Peace was at last come to this distracted island. The Halcyon bird,
rocked by the gentle billows, could now hatch its young, and men
might pray that the new births would be harbingers of prosperity.
Toussaint rests in the bosom of his family on the estate Deschaux,
among the mountains of the Artibonite. He knows himself to be the
first man in St. Domingo; the people everywhere accept him as such.
This “old negro with a commission from Heaven”—the “maggot rolled in
linen,” as some of Hedouville’s followers called him—this “chattel,”
prized at 500 dollars, has come to strange places. His praises,
even, are chanted in the “Conseil des Anciens,” and Europe wonders
about this black.[43] In the face of the example of civilized
nations and the orders of the Directory, he proclaims an amnesty
for all political offenders—and keeps it! He invites whites and
blacks to return to their pursuits; he orders Te Deum to be sung in
the churches, and that all officers shall have morning and evening
prayers read to their respective corps. Of course his enemies said
this was hypocrisy.[44]
The sword is sheathed, and Toussaint applies his whole powers to the
restoration of confidence and industry. The country is traversed by
parties of black troops, engaged in restoring the whites, the owners
(when they could be found), to their estates, and the blacks to their
labors. Hedouville proclaimed the expulsion of those who had taken
part against France, the confiscation of their estates and universal
liberty to the blacks. Toussaint pronounces an amnesty, and places
the slaves at an apprenticeship of five years, giving them a share
of the productions. The blacks obey him rather than Hedouville, and
the whites are lost in wonder. Many who, in the evening, had looked
upon him as a brigand, in the morning knew him as their beneficent
deliverer.
The negroes were stimulated to exertion, by the prospect of wealth
and manhood, and were sustained in it by the determination of
Louverture: no man but the drunkard is wholly indifferent to worldly
good. His justice and moderation taught the whites to confide in him,
and his wisdom, strength, and heroism, rendered him potent with the
blacks.[45] His soldiers were subject to an iron discipline—each
officer was supreme, but let him beware lest he be unjust or cruel.
Lacroix, who was an eye-witness, says:—“It was strange to see naked
Africans giving an example of the strictest discipline, and making
a campaign with nothing to eat but bananas and a little maize.”
Property was respected and life was safe, while Toussaint guided
these naked blacks. One class only was discontented—the mulattoes.
They could not forgive the blacks for taking the preëminence, and,
brave as he was, Rigaud was not superior to envy. Hedouville, deeply
mortified at Toussaint’s superiority, plotted mischief with the
mulattoes; uneasiness prevailed, and insurrection again lifted its
head. The whites attempted to disarm the blacks under Gen. Moyse, at
Fort Dauphin. The tidings spread, and over the plain of Cap François
the negroes were roused. Toussaint appeared at Cap, and all again
became quiet. Hedouville hastily embarked for France—but he threw
from the deck of his ship the apple of discord to the shore. He
issued his proclamation, charging that Toussaint was sold to the
English, and he gave to Rigaud authority over the South. Toussaint
now expressed his wish to retire from power, and his quarters were
thronged with deputations, whites, yellows, and blacks, praying him
to continue their protector and father. Two kings cannot sit on
the same throne: Louverture was the hero of the blacks, Rigaud the
chief of the mulattoes—both were superior men. Roume, the remaining
French commissioner, entered into the large plans of Toussaint, and
pronounced him “a philosopher, a legislator, a general, and a good
citizen.” Rigaud, in a sullen humor, departed for the South; there
the mulattoes flocked to his standard, and enrolled with them many of
the blacks. The idea of black supremacy was hateful to them; the FACT
was intolerable, and occasions were not wanting, so the war—a war of
races—once more broke out. It is not necessary to dwell upon it—it
was one of terrible and bloody ferocity: no man asked or received
quarter; on both sides, hecatombs of victims were sacrificed. The
vindictiveness of Rigaud was surpassed by the ferocity of Dessalines,
and through 1798 and ’99 this destruction continued—the fields
could not be tilled, and gaunt famine stalked over the South. The
energy and perseverance of Toussaint were too much for the skill
and desperation of Rigaud. He was reduced, step by step; undone, he
staggered to his fall, and at last, with Petion, sailed for France.
On the 1st of August, 1800, Toussaint makes his triumphal entry
into Aux Cayes. The mob shouts, of course, for the mob worships
success, and the mulattoes are at his feet—one word of his, and
they are exterminated. Toussaint is either merciful, or he is wise,
or he is very crafty. He assembles them together, he ascends the
pulpit, firm, sad, perhaps severe. What might those firm lips not
express? He says:—“I have published a proclamation—‘Forgive us our
transgressions as we forgive those who transgress against us.’ I
have ordered all citizens to return to their parishes, to enjoy the
benefits of this general amnesty. Citizens, not less generous than
myself, let your most precious moments be employed in causing the
past to be forgotten; let all my fellow-citizens swear never to
recall the past; let them receive their misled brethren with open
arms, and let them, in future, be on their guard against the traps of
bad men.”[46] Peace now is possible—his task is done! Alas, his task
is not ended! During the confusion, a brisk slave trade had sprung up
in the eastern end of the island. At the city of St. Domingo, vessel
after vessel sailed with a living freight, to the English islands and
elsewhere, stolen, captured, and sold from St. Domingo. Toussaint
determines that such an anomaly shall not exist, and that the Spanish
towns, secured to France by the treaty of Basle, shall be given up.
Napoleon having assumed the powers of first consul, had confirmed
Toussaint in his position. He now remonstrates with commissioner
Roume, upon the continuance of the outrageous traffic. Roume was
indifferent, perhaps guilty of complicity; and Toussaint sets about
this new work. He marches a body of troops into the Spanish end of
the island, and, in January, enters the ancient city of St. Domingo,
and hoists the French colors upon its ramparts. In February, he
announces the pacification of the colony.
The star of Louverture has culminated; from the Bay of Samana on the
East to Cape Tiburon on the West his power is everywhere acknowledged
and established—a French colony, but controlled by a black, the only
man who can order the incoherent elements.
Through ten long years, war has desolated this island: distracted
counsels have discovered small wisdom: the French had no other idea
than to retain it as a rich colony for France, and to strip its
breasts of soft down for her luxurious head. The mulattoes wished
to share in the spoil. The blacks had an indistinct but obstinate
aversion to being plucked at all! This took shape in the brain of
Toussaint Louverture: founded, as this idea was, upon the profoundest
instincts of human nature, it could not be driven out of these men,
not even by whips or bayonets. Toussaint knows what ought to be done,
and he alone knows how to do it.
He declares, that no State can be prosperous, but with agriculture as
its material basis.
That men of _all colors_ must be secure in their lives, and in the
enjoyment of the products of their own labor.
That good morals and measures are necessary to the State.
That churches and schools must be restored and sustained.
That, to preserve their liberties, the blacks of St. Domingo must be
ready to defend them with arms in their hands.