"These passions of war, of which you speak," said Toussaint, "need never have raged, if God had permitted the whites to dream what was in the souls of the blacks. Let the past now be forgotten. I have restored your estates because they were yours; but I also perceive advantages in your restoration. By circumstances--not by nature, but by circumstances--the whites have been able to acquire a wide intelligence, a depth of knowledge, from which the blacks have been debarred. I desire for the blacks a perpetual and friendly intercourse with those who are their superiors in education. As residents, therefore, you are welcome; and your security and welfare shall be my care. You find your estates peopled with cultivators?"
"We do."
"And you understand the terms on which the labour of your fellow-citizens may be hired? You have only to secure to them one-fourth of the produce, and you will, I believe, be well served. If you experience cause of complaint, your remedy will be found in an appeal to the superintendent of cultivators of the district, or to myself. Over the cultivators no one else, I now intimate to you, has authority."
The gentlemen bowed, having nothing to say on this head.
"It may be in your power," continued Toussaint, after applying to his secretary for a paper from the mass on the table--"it may be in your power to do a service to the colony, and to individuals mentioned in this paper, by affording information as to where they are to be found, if alive; which of them are dead; and which of the dead have left heirs.
Many estates remain unclaimed. The list is about to be circulated in the colony, in France, and in the United States. If you should chance to be in correspondence with any of the owners or their heirs, make it known to them from me that they will be welcome here, as you are. In the mean time we are taking the best care in empower of their estates.
They must rebuild such of their houses as have been destroyed; but their lands are cultivated under a commission, a part of the produce being assigned to the cultivators, the rest to the public treasury."
Toussaint read the list, watching, as did every one present, the countenances of the Creoles as each name was pronounced. They had information to offer respecting one or two only; to the rest they gave sighs or mournful shakes of the head.
"It is afflicting to us all," said Toussaint, "to think of the slaughter and exile of those who drank wine together in the white mansions of yonder plain. But a wiser cheerfulness is henceforth to spread its sunshine over our land, with no tempest brewing in its heats."
"Have we heard the whole list?" asked Monsieur Charrier, anxiously.
"All except three, whose owners or agents have been already summoned.
These three are, the Athens estate, Monsieur Dank; the Breda estate, the attorney of which, Monsieur Bayou--" "Is here!" cried a voice from the lower part of the room. "I landed just now," exclaimed Bayou, hastening with extended arms to embrace Toussaint; "and I lose not a moment--" "Gently, sir," said the Commander-in-chief, drawing back two steps.
"There is now a greater distance between me and you than there, once was between you and me. There can be no familiarity with the chief of a newly-redeemed race."
Monsieur Bayou fell back, looking in every face around him, to see what was thought of this. Every face was grave.
"I sent for you," resumed Toussaint, in a mild voice, "to put you at the head of the interests of the good old masters;--for the good alone have been able to return. Show us what can be done with the Breda estate, with free labourers. Make the blacks work well. Be not only just, but firm. You were formerly too mild a master. Make the blacks work well, that, by the welfare of your small interests, you may add to the general prosperity of the administration of the Commander-in-chief of Saint Domingo."
Monsieur Bayou had no words ready. He stared round him upon the black officers in their splendid uniforms, upon the trains of liveried servants, handing coffee and fruits and sangaree on trays and salvers of massive silver, and on the throng of visitors who crowded upon one another's heels, all anxious, not merely to pay their respects, but to offer their enthusiastic homage at the feet of his former slave. His eye at length fixed upon the windows, through which he saw something of the outline of the group of ladies.
"You desire to greet Madame L'Ouverture?" said Toussaint, kindly. "You shall be conducted to her." And one of the aides stepped forward to perform the office of introducer.
Monsieur Bayou pulled from his pocket, on his way to the window, a shagreen jewel-case; and, by the time he was in front of Madame he had taken from it a rich gold chain, which he hung on her neck, saying, with a voice and air strangely made up of jocoseness, awkwardness, and deference-- "I have not forgotten, you see, though I suppose you have, what you gave me, one day long ago. I tried to bring back something prettier than I carried away--something for each of you--but--I don't know--I find everything here so different from what I had any idea of--so very strange--that I am afraid you will despise my little presents."
While speaking, he shyly held out little parcels to Genifrede and Aimee, who received them graciously, while their mother replied-- "In those old days, Monsieur Bayou, we had nothing really our own to give; and you deserved from us any aid that was in our power. My daughters and I now accept with pleasure the tokens of friendship that you bring. I hope no changes have taken place which need prevent our being friends, Monsieur Bayou."
He scarcely heard her.
"Is it possible," cried he, "that these can be your girls? Aimee I might have known--but can this lady be Genifrede?"
Genifrede looked up with a smile, which perplexed him still further.
"I do not know that I ever saw a smile from her before; and she would not so much as lift up her head at one of my jokes. One could never gain her attention with anything but a ghost story. But I see how it is," he added, stooping, and speaking low to her mother, while he glanced at Moyse--"she has learned at last the old song that she would not listen to when I wanted to tell her fortune:-- "`Your heart's your own this summer day; To-morrow 'twill be changed away.'
"And Aimee--is she married?"
"Aimee is a widow--at least, so we call her," said her mother, smiling.
"Isaac (you remember Placide and Isaac)--her brother Isaac is all the world to her; and he is far away."
Aimee's eyes were full of tears in a moment; but she looked happy, as she always did when Isaac was spoken of as her own peculiar friend.
"I was going to ask about your boys," said Bayou. "The little fellow who used to ride the horses to water, almost before he could walk alone--he and his brothers, where are they?"
"Denis is with his tutor, in the palace here. Placide and Isaac are at Paris."
"At Paris! For education?"
"Partly so."
"And partly," interposed Paul, "for an object in which you, sir, have an interest, and respecting which you ought, therefore, to be informed.
There are those who represent my brother's actions as the result of personal ambition. Such persons have perpetually accused him to the French Government as desiring to sever the connection between the two races, and therefore between this colony and France. At the moment when these charges were most strongly urged, and most nearly believed, my brother sent his two elder sons to Paris, to be educated for their future duties under the care of the Directory. I hope, sir, you see in this act a guarantee for the safety and honour of the whites in Saint Domingo."
"Certainly, certainly. All very right--very satisfactory."
"Everybody who understands, thinks all that the Commander-in-chief does quite right," said Madame, with so much of her old tone and manner as made Bayou ready to laugh. He turned to Paul, saying-- "May I ask if you are the brother who used to reside on the northern coast--if I remember right?"
"I am. I am Paul--Paul L'Ouverture." He sighed as he added, "I do not live on the northern coast now. I am going to live on the southern coast--in a palace, instead of my old hut."
"Monsieur Bayou will see--Monsieur Bayou will hear," interrupted Madame, "if he will stay out the levee. You will not leave us to-day, Monsieur Bayou?"
Monsieur Bayou bowed. He then asked if he had the pleasure of any acquaintance with the other lady, who had not once turned round since he arrived. Therese had indeed sat with her face concealed for some time past.
"Do not ask her," said Aimee, eagerly, in a low voice. "We do not speak to her of old times. She is Madame Dessalines."
"The lady of General Dessalines," said Madame. "Shall I introduce you?"
She called to Therese. Therese just turned round to notice the introduction, when her attention was called another way by two officers, who brought her some message from Toussaint. That one glance perplexed Monsieur Bayou as much as anything he had seen. That beautiful face and form were not new to him; but he had only a confused impression as to where and when he had seen them. He perceived, however, that he was not to ask. He followed her with his eyes as she rose from her low seat, and placed herself close by one of the open jalousies, so as to hear what passed within.
"It is the English deputation," said Paul. "Hear what my brother will say."
"What will become of them?" said Madame. "I do not know what would become of me if my husband were ever as angry with me as I know he is with them."
There were indeed signs of wrath in the countenance which was commonly gentle as the twilight. The rigid uprightness of his figure, the fiery eye, the distended nostril, all showed that Toussaint was struggling with anger. Before him stood a group of Englishmen--a sailor holding a wand, on which was fixed a small white banner, two gentlemen in plain clothes, the captain of the frigate which rode in the bay, and a colonel of the English troops in Jamaica.
"It is all very well, gentlemen," Toussaint was saying--"it is all very well as regards the treaty. Twenty-four hours ago we should have had no difficulty in concluding it. But what have you to say to this treatment of women on board the schooner you captured? What have you to say to your act of taking all the gentlemen out of your prize (except one who would not quit his sister), leaving the ladies in charge of a brutal prize-master, who was drunk--was it not so?" he added, turning to one of his officers.
"It was: he was drunk, and refused the ladies access to their trunks of clothes, denied them the wine left for their use, and alarmed them extremely by his language. These ladies were wives of our most distinguished officers."
"It matters not whose wives they were," said Toussaint: "they were women; and I will treat with none who thus show themselves not to be men."
"We do not ask you to treat with my prize-master," said Captain Reynolds. "If it be true--" "It is true," said a voice from the window, to which all listened in a moment. "My maid and I were on board that schooner; from which we landed four hours ago. It is true that we were confined to the cabin, denied the refreshments that were before our eyes, and the use of our own clothes; and it is true that the oaths and threats of a drunken man were in our ears all night. When morning came, we looked out to see if we were really in the seas of Saint Domingo. It seemed as if we had been conveyed where the whites are still paramount." And Therese indignantly walked away.
"You hear!" said Toussaint. "And you ask me to trade with Jamaica!
While permitted to obtain provisions from our coast, you have captured a French schooner and a sloop in our seas; you have insulted our women; and now you propose a treaty! If it were not for that banner, you would have to treat for mercy."
"When shall I be permitted to speak?" asked Captain Reynolds.
"Now."
"The blame is mine. I appointed a prize-master, who, it now appears, was not trustworthy. I was not aware of this; and I left in the cabin, for the use of the ladies, all their own property, two cases of wine, and such fruits as I could obtain for them. I lament to find that my confidence was misplaced; and I pledge myself that the prize-master shall be punished. After offering my apologies to the offended ladies, I will retire to my ship, leaving this business of the treaty to appear as unconnected as it really is with this mischance. Allow me to be conducted to the presence of the ladies."
"I will charge myself with your apologies," said Toussaint, who knew that any white stood a small chance of a good reception from Therese.
"I accept your acknowledgment of error, Captain Reynolds, and shall be ready to proceed with the treaty, on proof of the punishment of the prize-master. Gentlemen, I regard this treaty with satisfaction, and am willing to enclose this small tract of peace in the midst of the dreary wilderness of war. I am willing to see trade established between Jamaica and Saint Domingo. There are days when your blue mountains are seen from our shores. Let to-morrow be a bright day when no cloud shall hide us from one another's friendship."
"To-morrow," the deputation from Jamaica agreed, as they bowed themselves out of the presence of the Commander-in-chief.
"More English! more English!" was whispered round, when the name of Gauthier was announced.
"No; not English," observed some, on seeing that the five who now entered, though in the English uniform, were mulattoes.
"Not English," said Toussaint, aloud. "English soldiers are honourable, whether as friends or foes. When we meet with the spying eye, and the bribing hand, we do not believe them to be English. Such are the eyes and hands of these men. They have the audacity to present themselves as guests, when their own hearts should tell them they are prisoners."
"Prisoners!" exclaimed Gauthier and his companions.
"Yes, surely--prisoners. Your conduct has already been judged by a military commission, and you are sentenced. If you have more to say than you had to plead to me, say it when I have read."
Toussaint took from among the papers on the table a letter brought, as Gauthier alleged, from the English commander, Sir Thomas Brisbane, declaring Gauthier empowered to treat for the delivery to the British of the posts of Gonaives, Les Verrettes, and some others, in order to secure to the British the freedom of the windward passage. Toussaint declared that the messengers had brought with them bags of money, with which they had endeavoured to bribe him to this treachery. He asked of them if this were not true.
"It is," said Gauthier; "but we and our authorities acted upon the precedent of your former conduct."
"What former conduct? Did those hands ever receive gold from the coffers of an enemy? Speak freely. You shall not suffer from anything you may say here."
"You have been the means by which posts have been delivered to an enemy.
We remember hearing of the surrender of Marmalade, Gros Morne, and some others."
"I was the means, as you say; but it was done by a wiser will and a stronger hand than mine. In that transaction my heart was pure. My design was to lose rank, and to return to poverty by the step I took.
You ought to have inquired into facts, clearly understood by all who know me, before you proceeded to insult me. Have you more to say?"
"It was natural that we should believe that he through whom posts had been delivered would deliver posts again; and this was confirmed by rumours, and I believe, even by letters which seemed to come from yourself, in relation to the posts now in question."
Gauthier appealed to his companions, who all assented.
"There are other rumours concerning me," said Toussaint, "which could not be perverted; and to these you should have listened. My actions are messages addressed to the whole world--letters which cannot be forged; and these alone you should have trusted. Such misunderstanding as yours could hardly have been foreseen; but it will be my fault, if it be repeated. The name of the First of the Blacks must never again be associated with bribery. You are sentenced by a military commission, before which your documents have been examined, to run the gauntlet.
The sentence will immediately be executed in the Place d'Armes."
"Are you aware," cried Gauthier, "that I was second in command at Saint Marc when it was in the possession of the British?"
"I am aware of it."
"This is enmity to our colour," said another. "To our being mulattoes we owe our disgrace."
"I have beloved friends of your colour," said Toussaint. "Believe me, however, the complexion of your souls is so disgusting that I have no attention to spare for your faces. You must now depart."
"Change our punishment!" said Gauthier. "Consider that I am an emigrant officer. Some other punishment!"
"No other," said Toussaint. "This is the fit punishment--mean as your design--ridiculous as your attempt. Are the French Commissaries in waiting, Laroche? Let them be announced."
The prisoners were removed by one door, while the imposing party from France entered by the other.
Commissary Hedouville, who had been for some time resident at Cap Francais, entered, followed by a party of his countrymen, just arrived from Paris. There was among them one, at sight of whom Toussaint's countenance changed, while an exclamation was heard from the piazza, which showed that his family were moved like himself. The person who excited this emotion was a young black officer, who entered smiling, and as if scarcely able to keep his place behind the Commissary, and General Michel, the head of the new deputation.
The Commander-in-chief quitted his station, and advanced some steps, seizing the officer's hand, and asking eagerly-- "Vincent! Why here? My boys--how, where are they?"
"They are well: both well and happy in our beloved Paris. I am here with General Michel; sent by the government, with gifts and compliments, which--" "Which we will speak of when I have offered my welcome to these representatives of the government we all obey," said Toussaint, turning to the Commissary and the General, and remembering that his emotions as a father had caused him, for the moment, to lose sight of the business of the hour. He made himself the usher of the French Commissaries to the sofa, in front of which he had himself been standing. There he would have seated Hedouville and General Michel. Hedouville threw himself down willingly enough; but the newly arrived messenger chose to stand.
"I come," said he, "the bearer to you of honours from the Republic, which I delight to present as the humblest of your servants.--Not a word of apology for your graceful action of welcome to Brigadier-General Vincent! What so graceful as the emotions of a parent's heart? I understand--I am aware--he went out as the guardian of your sons; and your first welcome was, therefore, due to him. The office of guardian of your sons is, ought to be, in your eyes, more important, more sacred, than that of Commissary, or any other. If our national Deliverer--if the conqueror of Italy--if our First Consul himself were here, he ought to step back while you embrace the guardian of your sons."
The party in the piazza saw and heard all.
"If," said Madame, in a whisper to Genifrede, "if these honours that they speak of come from Bonaparte--if he has answered your father's letter, your father will think his happiness complete--now we know that the boys are well."
"The First Consul has written, or will write, no doubt," said Aimee.
"It must be pleasant to him as to my father, to greet a brother in destiny and in glory. Surely General Vincent will come and speak to us; will tell us of my brothers! He looked this way just now."
"The First Consul will not write," said Moyse. "He is a white; and therefore, though a brother in destiny and in glory, he will not notice the Commander-in-chief of Saint Domingo."
"You are right, Moyse," said Madame Dessalines. "And it is best so."
"But that will disappoint my husband very much," said Madame. "He likes the whites better than you do."
"He does," said Therese. "But let us listen."
Hedouville was at the moment exerting himself to introduce his secretary, Monsieur Pascal.
"An honoured name," observed Toussaint.
"And not only in name, but by blood connected with the great man you refer to," said Hedouville.
"None are more welcome here," said Toussaint, "than those who bring with them the honours of piety, of reason, and of science." And he looked with deep interest upon the countenance of the secretary, which did in truth show signs of that thoughtfulness and sagacity, though not of the morbid suffering, which is associated in all minds with the image of the author of the Provinciales. Monsieur Pascal returned the gaze which was fixed upon him with one in which intense curiosity was mingled with doubt, if not fear. His countenance immediately, however, relaxed into an expression of pleased surprise. During this brief moment, these two men, so unlike--the elderly, toil-worn negro, and the young, studious Frenchman--felt that they were friends.
Monsieur Pascal stepped aside to make way for Monsieur Moliere.
"Are we to welcome in you," asked Toussaint, "a messenger of mirth to our society?"
The group of Frenchmen could scarcely restrain their laughter at this question. Monsieur Moliere had a most lugubrious countenance--a thing not always inconsistent with a merry humour: but Monsieur Moliere's heart was believed never to have laughed, any more than his face. He answered, as if announcing a misfortune, that he claimed no connection with the dramatist, though he believed some of his family had attempted to do so.
"Monsieur Moliere discharges the duty of a pious descendant, however," said Vincent. "He laughs himself into such a state of exhaustion every night over those immortal comedies, that he has to be carried to bed.
That is the reason we see him so grave in the morning."
"Think of Monsieur Moliere as a trusted secretary of the messenger from the republic to yourself," said General Michel.
"I come," said Michel, assuming a pompous tone, "I come associated with an officer of the republican army, Monsieur Petion--a native of this colony, but a stranger to yourself."
Monsieur Petion paid his respects. He was a mulatto, with shy and reserved manners, and an exceedingly intellectual countenance.
"We lost you early," said Toussaint; "but only to offer you the warmer welcome back. It was, as I remember, to attend the military schools of France that you left your home. Such scholars are welcome here."
"And particularly," observed Michel, "when they have also had the fortune to serve in the army of Italy, and immediately under the eye of the First Consul himself."
"Is it so? Is it really so?" exclaimed Toussaint. "I can never hear enough of the ruler of France. Tell us--but that must be hereafter. Do you come to me from him?"
"From the government generally," replied Petion.
An expression of disappointment, very evident to his watchful wife, passed over the face of Toussaint.
"There is no letter," she whispered to Genifrede.
"We bring you from the government," said Michel, "a confirmation of the dignity of Commander-in-chief of this colony, conferred by Commissary Santhonax."
Toussaint bowed, but smiled not.
"See, he sighs!" said Madame, sighing in echo.
"These are empty words," said Therese. "They give him only what they cannot withhold; and at the very moment they surround him with spies."
"He says," replied Madame, "that Hedouville is sent here `to restrain his ambition.' Those were the words spoken of him at Paris, where they will not believe that he has no selfish ambition."
"They will not believe, because they cannot understand. Their Commander-in-chief has a selfish ambition; and they cannot imagine that ours may be a man of a higher sold. But we cannot help it: they are whites."
"What a dress--what a beautiful dress!" exclaimed Madame, who almost condescended to stand fairly in the window, to see the presents now displayed before her husband by the commissary's servants.
"These presents," pursued General Michel, while Petion stood aloof, as if he had no concern in the business--"this dress of embroidered velvet, and this set of arms, I am to present to you, in the name of the late Directory of France, in token of their admiration of your services to the colony."
Toussaint stretched out his hand for the sword, which he immediately assumed instead of the one he wore, observing that this sword, like that which he had now laid aside, should be employed in loyal service to the republic. As he took no notice of the embroidered dress, it was conveyed away.
"Not only in the hall of government," resumed Michel--"but throughout all Europe, is your name ringing to the skies. A eulogium has been delivered at the Council of Ancients--" "And an oration before the governors of the Military Schools," added Hedouville.
"And from Paris," said Pascal, "your reputation has spread along the shores of the Rhine, and as far north as Saint Petersburg; and in the south, even to Rome."
Toussaint's ear caught a low laugh of delight from the piazza, which he thought fit alone for a husband's ear, and therefore hoped that no one else had heard.
"Enough, gentlemen," he said. "Measuring together my deeds and this applause, I understand the truth. This applause is in fact given to the powers of the negro race; and not to myself as a soldier or a man. It belongs not, therefore, to me. For my personal support, one line of a letter, one word of message, from the chief of our common country, would be worth the applause of Europe, of which you speak."
Monsieur Petion produced a sealed packet, which he delivered; and this seemed to remind General Vincent that he had one too. Toussaint was unable to refrain from tearing open first one, and then the other, in the intense hope of receiving some acknowledgment, some greeting from the "brother in destiny and in glory," who was the idol of his loyal heart. There was no word from Bonaparte among the first papers; and it was scarcely possible that there should be in the other packet; yet he could not keep his eye from it. Other eyes were watching from behind the jalousies. He cast a glance, a half smile that way; the consequence of which was that Aimee, forgetting the time, the deputation, the officers, the whole crowd, sprang into the room, and received the letter from Isaac, which was the only thing in all that room that she saw. She disappeared in another moment, followed, however, by General Vincent.
The father's smile died away from the face of Toussaint, and his brow darkened, as he caught at a glance the contents of the proclamations contained in Petion's packet. A glance was enough. Before the eyes of the company had returned from the window, whither they had followed the apparition of Aimee, he had folded up the papers. His secretary's hand was ready to receive them: but Toussaint put them into his bosom.
"Those proclamations," said Hedouville, rising from the sofa, and standing by Toussaint's side, "you will immediately publish. You will immediately exhibit on your colours the words imposed, `Brave blacks, remember that the French people alone recognise your freedom, and the legality of your rights!'"
As the commissary spoke these, words aloud, he looked round upon the assembled blacks, who, in their turn, all fixed their eyes upon their chief. Toussaint merely replied that he would give his best attention to all communications from the government of France.
"In order," said Hedouville, as if in explanation of a friend's purposes, "in order to yield implicit obedience to its commands." Then resuming his seat, he observed to Toussaint, "I believe General Michel desires some little explanation of certain circumstances attending his landing at Cap."
"I do," said General Michel, resuming his solemn air. "You are aware that General Vincent and I were arrested on landing?"
"I am aware of it. It was by my instant command that you were set free."
"By whose command, or by what error, then, were we arrested?"
"I hoped that full satisfaction had been afforded you by Monsieur Raymond, the Governor of Cap Francais. Did he not explain to you that it was by an impulse of the irritated blacks--an impulse of which they repent, and to which they will not again yield, proceeding from anger for which there is but too much cause? As you, however, are not to be made responsible for the faults of your government towards us, the offending parties have been amply punished."
"I," said Hedouville, from the sofa behind, "I am held responsible for the faults of our government towards you. What are they?"
"We will discuss them at Cap," replied Toussaint. "There you will be surrounded by troops of your own colour; and you will feel more at liberty to open your whole mind to me than, it grieves me to perceive, you are when surrounded by blacks. When you know the blacks better, you will become aware that the highest security is found in fully trusting them."
"What is it that you suppose we fear from the blacks?"
"When we are at Cap, I will ask you what it was that you feared, Monsieur Hedouville, when you chose to land at Saint Domingo, instead of at Cap--when you showed your mistrust of your fellow-citizens by selecting the Spanish city for your point of entrance upon our island.
I will then ask you what it is that your government fears, that it commits the interests of the blacks to a new legislature, which understands neither their temper nor their affairs."
"This was, perhaps, the cause of the difficulty we met with at Cap," observed General Michel.
"It is the chief cause. Some jealousy on this account is not to be wondered at; but it has not the less been punished. I would further ask," he continued, turning again to Hedouville, "what the First Consul fears, that--" "Who ever heard of the First Consul fearing anything?" cried Hedouville, with a smile.
"Hear it now, then."
"In this place?" said Hedouville, looking round. "In public?"
"In this place--among the most loyal of the citizens of France," replied Toussaint, casting a proud look round upon his officers and assembled friends. "If I were about to make complaints of the First Consul, I would close my doors upon you and myself, and speak in whispers. But it is known that I honour him, and hold him to my heart, as a brother in destiny and in glory: though his glory is now at its height, while mine will not be so till my race is redeemed from the consequences of slavery, as well as from slavery itself. Still, we are brothers; and I therefore mourn his fears, shown in the documents that he sends to my soldiers, and shown no less in his sending none to me."
"I bring you from him the confirmation of your dignity," observed General Michel.
"You do so by message. The honour is received through the ear. But that which should plant it down into my heart--the greeting from a brother--is wanting. It cannot be that the First of the Whites has not time, has not attention, for the First of the Blacks. It is that he fears--not for himself, but for our country: he fears our ambition, our revenge. He shall experience, however, that we are loyal--from myself, his brother, to the mountain child who startles the vulture from the rocks with his shouts of Bonaparte the Great. To engage our loyalty before many witnesses," he continued, once more looking round upon the assemblage, "I send this message through you, in return for that which I have received. Tell the First Consul that, in the absence of interference with the existing laws of the colony, I guarantee, under my personal responsibility, the submission to order, and the devotion to France, of my black brethren. Mark the condition, gentlemen, which you will pronounce reasonable. Mark the condition, and you will find happy results. You will soon see whether I pledge in vain my own responsibility and your hopes."
Even while he spoke, in all the fervour of unquestionable sincerity, of his devotion to France, his French hearers fell that he was virtually a monarch. The First of the Blacks was not only supreme in this palace, and throughout the colony; he had entered upon an immortal reign over all lands trodden by the children of Africa. To the contracted gaze of the diplomatists present, all might not be visible--the coming ages when the now prophetic name of L'Ouverture should have become a bright fact in the history of man, and should be breathed in thanksgiving under the palm-tree, sung in exultation in the cities of Africa, and embalmed in the liberties of the Isles of the West:--such a sovereignty as this was too vast and too distant for the conceptions of Michel and Hedouville to embrace; but they were impressed with a sense of his power, with a feeling of the majesty of his influence; and the reverential emotions which they would fain have shaken off, and which they were afterwards ashamed of, were at the present moment enhanced by sounds which reached them from the avenue. There was military music, the firing of salutes, the murmur of a multitude of voices, and the tramp of horses and of men.
Toussaint courteously invited the commissaries to witness the presentation to him, for the interests of France, of the keys of the cities of the island, late in the possession of Spain, and now ceded to France by the treaty of Bale. The commissaries could not refuse, and took their stand on one side of the First of the Blacks, while Paul L'Ouverture assumed the place of honour on the other hand.
The apartment was completely filled by the heads of the procession--the late Governor of the city of Saint Domingo, his officers, the magistracy of the city, and the heads of the clergy.
Among these last was a face which Toussaint recognised with strong emotion. The look which he cast upon Laxabon, the gesture of greeting which he offered, caused Don Alonzo Dovaro to turn round to discover whose presence there could be more imposing to the Commander-in-chief than his own. The flushed countenance of the priest marked him out as the man.
Don Alonzo Dovaro ordered the keys to be brought, and addressed himself in Spanish to Toussaint. Toussaint did not understand Spanish, and knew that the Spaniard, could speak French. The Spaniard, however, chose to deliver up a Spanish city in no other language than that of his nation.
Father Laxabon stepped forward eagerly, with an offer to be interpreter.
It was an opportunity he was too thankful to embrace--a most favourable means of surmounting the awkwardness of renewed intercourse with one, by whom their last conversation could not be supposed to be forgotten.
"This is well--this fulfilment of the treaty of Bale," said Toussaint.
"But it would have been better if the fulfilment had been more prompt.