The Hour and the Man Part 50

"If so, command me, my dear. But it is more likely that the changes to come will have the opposite effect. Then pretty young white ladies may have all their own way; while the storm will burst again on the heads of the dark people."

"If so, command me, madam," Euphrosyne exerted herself to say. The abbess's smile made her eyes fill with tears, almost before she had spoken.

"Are your eyes wet for me, my dear?" said Madame Oge, with surprise.

"Let the storm burst upon me; for I am shattered and stricken already, and nothing can hurt me. But I shall remember your offer. Meantime, you may depend upon it, the news I told you is true--the times I warned you of are coming."

"What news? what warning?" eagerly asked the sisters of Euphrosyne, as soon as the guest was out of hearing.

"That there were hurricanes last November, and there will be more the next," replied she, escaping to her chamber. Before she slept, she had written all her news and all her thoughts to Afra, leaving it for decision in the morning, whether she should send entire what she had written.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE HERALD ABROAD.

Madame Oge's news was too true. Monsieur Pascal had held many an anxious conversation with L'Ouverture on the subject, before Afra showed him her little friend's letter. In a short time an additional fact became known--that Bonaparte had re-established the slave-trade. His enmity to the race of blacks was now open and declared.

The first intimation which the colony at large had of what had happened, was through the altered demeanour of their chief. From the first bright day of the prolific, gorgeous summer, to that in which the season merged in a fierce autumnal storm, L'Ouverture had been seen to be not less calm and quiet than usual, but depressed and sad. Some ascribed his gloom to the transaction at Cap, and the misery it must needs have introduced into his home. Others, who saw how much the colony had gained in confidence, and Toussaint's government in strength by that act, looked for a different cause. Some reminded each other that, while no man was more energetic in the hour of proof than their chief, his spirits were wont to droop when others were elated. It seemed as if some boding ghost whispered evil to him most peremptorily when the harvests were ripest before his eyes, when the laugh and the song were loudest in his ear, and when no one dreamed that the bright days of the colony would ever more be overclouded.

It was even so. When Toussaint saw that his race was in peace, it filled him with grief that this peace was not likely to last. When he saw what the true African soul was, when cleansed from blood and anger, and permitted to grow in freedom and in harmony, it was torture to know (as he did too well) that new injuries were preparing for it--that it was certain to be again steeped in pa.s.sion and slaughter, and all that was savage in it excited afresh. This, even more than the death of Moyse, cast gloom round his soul, during the last of the series of bright and prosperous summers that were to pa.s.s under his eye. When autumn came, it might have made him wonder, if he had had leisure to consider himself, to find how his spirits rose, and his heart grew light, exactly when dismay and dread began to overcloud every face about him, but when he saw that suspense and struggle were coming to an end.

He perceived perplexity in the countenance of his friend Pascal, even in the presence of his bride. He met sorrow in the mild eyes of Henri; he heard that exultation in the voice of Jacques which always struck like discord upon his ear. He observed that in the bearing of Madame Dessalines which carried back his memory ten years into her past history. He saw Aimee tremble at the approach of any one who might bring news from France; and he heard Margot weeping at her prayers, as she implored of Heaven the safe return of her sons. Yet all this caused to his sympathising heart scarcely a pang; so clear was his path now, so distinct was the issue to which his duty, and the fate of his race was brought.

"Here it ends then," said he, one day at the council-table, rising as bespoke. "Here ends all possibility of compromise. For the blacks, it is slavery or self-defence. It is so, Monsieur Pascal."

"It is. The terms of the new peace are proclaimed."

"And the fact substantiated that Bonaparte has declared that he will do what he pleases with Saint Domingo."

"Such were certainly his words."

"Who is surprised?" inquired Dessalines. "I forewarned you of this, long ago: and I said, at the same time, that, if we waited for aggression, we might find it too late for defence."

"Not a word of fear, Jacques. Our victory is as sure as the justice of Heaven."

"Perhaps so; but it would have been easier if you had not been training your people, all these years, to love and cherish those whom they are now going to resist."

"I see and admit our difficulty, Jacques. But if I had governed as you would have had me, we should have been in a worse. I should then have been the chief of a race of savages, instead of soldiers and citizens.

If we had been extirpating the whites all this time, we should now have been destroying each other, instead of preparing to go forth to a righteous war."

"True. Most true," declared Henri. "We may suffer for a time, and fight with the more difficulty, from our habits of observance towards those whom we must now oppose; but G.o.d will not allow the spirit of forgiveness and love to be finally a snare."

"Never," said Toussaint. "He has appointed fierce pa.s.sions for a yoke, and mild affections for freedom. Though Bonaparte betrays and oppresses, the Gospel stands.--It is now time for proclaiming the war throughout the colony."

"I will prepare the proclamation this night," said Monsieur Pascal.

"If you will, my friend," said Toussaint. "But I intend to be my own proclamation. To-morrow morning I set forth for Saint Domingo, to visit my brother in his city. I shall examine every fort, and call together the militia, as I go. The trip would be more effective if I could have my council about me."

"I will go with you," said Henri.

"And I," exclaimed Jacques.

"And I?" said Raymond, inquiringly.

"No, Raymond; stay at Port-au-Prince, to report my proceedings to the legislature. And you, Monsieur Pascal, remain here to receive the despatches which may arrive from France. My brethren-in-arms of the council will be with me. When we have satisfied ourselves, we will let you know whether or not those who would have loved and served France for ever as a guardian angel, can cast her off when she becomes an incubus."

It was a time of high excitement--that in which L'Ouverture, attended by four of his generals, and a train of inferior officers, traversed the island, to communicate or confirm the intelligence that an expedition was believed to be setting sail from France, for the purpose of wresting from the blacks the freedom which was theirs by the law of the land.

Toussaint found, not only that all hearts were ready for the a.s.sertion of freedom, but that all eyes were so fixed upon him, all ears so open to his lightest word, that there was every probability of his purposes being fully understood and completely executed. At a word from him, the inhabitants of Cap Francais and Port-au-Prince began to remove their property into the fastnesses of the interior, and to prepare to burn those towns at the moment of the French attempting to land. It was useless to think of preventing a landing, so exposed was the greater part of the coast. The more rational hope was so to distress the foe on sh.o.r.e as to make them glad to go on board their s.h.i.+ps again. Equally satisfactory was the disposition of the interior. The munic.i.p.al bodies throughout the colony, previously brought under one system, now acted in concert. Their means of communication had been improved, so that each settlement was no longer like an encampment in the wilderness: on the contrary, every order given by L'Ouverture seemed to have been echoed by the mountain-tops around, so promptly was it transmitted, and so continually did he find his commands antic.i.p.ated. As he went, his four generals parted off, to examine the forts on either hand, and to inspect and animate the militia. Everywhere the same story was told, and everywhere was it received with the same eagerness and docility. "The French are coming to make slaves of us again; but there shall never more be a slave in Saint Domingo. They are coming; but they are our countrymen till they have struck the first blow. We will demand of them an account of our brethren in Cayenne, in Guadaloupe, and in Martinique.

We will ask of them concerning our brethren on the coasts of Africa.

If, in return, they throw us chains and the whip, we shall know how to answer. But not a blow must be struck till they have shown whether they are brethren or foes. Our dark skin is no disgrace; but the first drop of a brother's blood dyes us all in infamy. Let the infamy be theirs who a.s.sault us. At this moment our first duty is to our white brethren of this island; in this time of our high excitement, they are full of grief; they are guiltless of this attack upon our liberty; they are as willing as we to live and die under the rule of L'Ouverture: and under the special protection of L'Ouverture, they shall, if they please, live and die. Beware of imputing to them the sins of their colour; protect them from your hearts--defend them with your lives. In the hour of danger, as you invoke the blessing of Heaven, save first the Creole whites, and next your wives and your children."

Such were the exhortations spoken everywhere by Christophe, La Plume, and Clerveaux. It could not be expected of Dessalines that he should deliver the last clauses with perfect fidelity. The solemnity of the hour had, however its tranquillising effect, even upon his ruling pa.s.sion. Even his heart, which usually turned to stone at the sight of a white, was moved by the visible distress of the proprietors of that race, who were, with scarcely an exception, in despair. In private, they execrated the spirit and conduct of their former neighbours, now in Paris, whose representations were the chief cause of the expedition now projected. Instead of remaining or returning, to ascertain the real state of things in Saint Domingo--instead of respecting the interests and wishes of those who were entirely satisfied under the government of L'Ouverture, they had prejudiced the mind of the First Consul, and induced him to bring back the ruin and woe which had pa.s.sed away. The ladies wept and trembled within their houses; their fathers, husbands, and brothers flocked to every point where L'Ouverture halted, to a.s.sure him of their good-will to his government, and to remind him of the difficulty and danger of the position in which they were placed. These last carried some comfort home with them. All who had seen Toussaint's face had met there the gaze of a brother. If there were two or three who went with doubtful minds, prepared to exult at the depression of the blacks, but thinking it well to bespeak protection, in case of the struggle ending the wrong way--if there was a sprinkling of such among the throng of whites who joined the cavalcade from the cross-roads, they shrunk away abashed before the open countenance of the Deliverer, and stole homewards to wait the guidance of events.

If it had not been that the city of Saint Domingo was at the end of this march, Toussaint would have traversed the colony with a higher spirit and a lighter heart than during any of his serener days of power; but the city of his brother's government was before him, and, at its gate, Paul, whom he had not met since the death of Moyse. He had not been forgetful of his sorrowing brother; he had immediately sent to him Father Laxabon--the best consoler, as the last confidant of the departed. Letter upon letter had Toussaint sent--deed upon deed of kindness had he attempted towards his brother; but still Father Laxabon had written, "Come not yet;" "He must have time;" "Give him time if there is to be peace between you." Now it had become necessary that they should meet; and far readier was Toussaint to encounter the armies of France than the countenance of his brother. For ever, in the midst of the excitements of the journey, he found himself asking in his own mind where and how Paul would meet him; and whether he had cut off from himself his brother, as well as his brother's son.

Meantime, the party rode proudly on, through the interior of the island, signs of welcome spreading around them at every step. From the gra.s.s-farms, in the wide savannahs, the herdsmen hastened, with promises to drive their flocks up into the mornes, where no enemy should penetrate while a man remained to guard the pa.s.ses. At each salute from the forts that rose at intervals along the way, the wild cattle rushed towards the steeps; while the parties of hunters turned back from their sports, to offer themselves as scouts and messengers on behalf of the colony. From some glade of the woods appeared the monk, charged with the blessing of his convent; or the grazier, with a string of horses-- his gift, for the service of the army. Around the crosses which, half concealed by the long gra.s.s of the plains, yet served to mark the road, were gathered groups of women, bearing bags of money, or ornaments of gold and silver, which they would have thrust upon him, to whom they declared that they owed their all; while every settlement displayed its company of armed men, standing in military order, and rending the air with shouts, on the approach of their chief. La Plume and Clerveaux, to whom such demonstrations were less familiar than to the other generals, no longer doubted that all would be well. They p.r.o.nounced that the colony already showed itself invincible. Toussaint thought that he might have been of the same opinion, if the expected foe had been any other than French. The event must show whether the pains he had taken to unite his race with their fellow-citizens as brethren would now weaken or strengthen his cause--whether it would enhance or mitigate the bitterness of the impending quarrel.

On the morning of the last day of their survey of the interior, the party emerged from the shade of the woods, and, crossing the gra.s.sy levels of the Llanos, reached the ferry by which the Ozama was to be crossed near its mouth. On the opposite bank were hors.e.m.e.n, who, on observing the party approaching the ferry, put spurs to their horses, and galloped southwards, in the direction of the city. They need not so have hastened; for the Deliverer was stopped at every fis.h.i.+ng hamlet-- almost at every hut along the sh.o.r.es of the bay, to receive the loyal homage of the inhabitants--Spanish as well as French. In the midst of these greetings the eye and the soul of the chief were absent--looking to what lay before him. There, at some distance, springing from the level of the plain, rose the cathedral of Saint Domingo, and other lofty buildings, whose outline was distinctly marked against the glittering sea which spread immediately behind. An ungovernable impatience seized him at length, and he broke away, bursting through the throngs upon the road, and resolving not to stop till he should have seen his fate, as a brother, in his brother's eyes.

A procession of priests was issuing from the city gates as he approached. They were robed, and they bore the Host under a canopy. At the first sound of their chant, the generals and their suite threw themselves from their horses, and prostrated themselves upon the gra.s.s.

On rising, they perceived that the whole city had come out to meet them.

"The whole city," Toussaint heard his companions say: and his heart throbbed when he strained his sight to see if the Governor of the city was the only one left at home. The procession of priests had now turned, and was preceding him--slowly--so slowly, that he would fain have dispensed with the solemnity. The people crowded round his horse and impeded his way. He strove to be present to the occasion; but all was like a troubled dream--the chanting, the acclamation, the bursts of military music from a distance--all that at other times had fired his soul was now disturbance and perplexity. A few faithless persons in the crowd, on the watch for information with which they might make interest with the French on their arrival, noted the wandering of the eye and the knitting of the brow, and drew thence a portent of the fall of the Deliverer.

At length the gate was reached; and there, in the shadow of the portal, surrounded by his attendants, stood Paul. On the arrival of his brother at the threshold, he took from an officer the velvet cus.h.i.+on on which the keys of the city were deposited, and advancing to the stirrup of the Commander-in-chief, offered them, according to custom. For an instant, Toussaint gazed on the aged, worn, melancholy countenance beside him, and then stooped from his horse, to fling his arms round the neck of his brother, breathing into his ear, "If _you_ are in your duty at such a time as this, who else dare fail me? I thank G.o.d! I thank G.o.d! We cannot fail."

Paul withdrew himself, without speaking. His action was sullen. He led the way, however, towards the Governor's house, evidently expecting to be followed. Not another word pa.s.sed between them on the way. Through one wide street after another L'Ouverture was led; and from the balconies of whole ranges of fine houses, from the roof of many a church, and the porch of many a convent, was he hailed, before he could catch another glimpse of the countenance of the brother who preceded him. At the gate of the Governor's house there was a pause; and way was made for the chief to pa.s.s in first. He did so; and the next moment turned round in the vestibule, to speak to Paul; but Paul had disappeared. Glancing round, Toussaint saw Father Laxabon awaiting him at the foot of the staircase. Each advanced to the other.

"Father, he is wretched," whispered Toussaint. "Bring me to him."

"Follow me," said the priest; and, instead of mounting the marble staircase, L'Ouverture and the father were seen to enter a pa.s.sage, into which every one else was forbidden to follow. Father Laxabon tapped softly at a door, and was desired to enter. He opened it, and closed it behind Toussaint, keeping watch outside, that the brothers might not be disturbed.

Paul started to his feet from the conch on which he had thrown himself.

He stood waiting. Now was the decisive moment; and Toussaint knew it was. Yet he stood speechless.

"I left my son in your charge," said Paul, at length.

"You did: and I--"

"And you murdered him."

"No, Paul! I executed justice upon him. Hear me, brother, once for all. I am heart-broken for you as a brother: but as a magistrate, I will admit no censure. As his father in your stead, I was, as the event has proved, too ambitious for him: but, as a ruler, I did but my duty."

"Yes! You have been ambitious! You have chosen your duty!"

"My ambition was for him, Paul. As for my duty--remember that I have too a child whom, by that act, I doomed to worse than death."

"You see what liberty has brought to us. Look at the family of Ouverture--consider what has befallen since your struggle for liberty began; and then, perhaps, you will give over struggling. Welcome the French--go back to Breda--send me home to my hut on the sh.o.r.e, that I may die in such peace as is left to a childless man. Why do you not answer me, Toussaint? Why will you not give us a last chance of peace?

I must obey you at the city gate; but I will importune you here. Why will you not do as I say?"