This is the place to stop; from this point to watch with solicitude,
but without fear, the development of this enfranchised people, under
the direction of their chief. It cannot be—history does not stop; its
march in the past cannot be changed—only the present and the future
are plastic.
At this point, the horizon in St. Domingo is clear and serene; no man
can see signs of a coming tornado. Only in the heart of Toussaint
Louverture does the mercury tremble, indicating “change.” The
convulsions which had shaken Europe are spent. Napoleon is the master
of France, and the treaty of Amiens (1801) has secured a treacherous
peace. Toussaint watched, with feverish solicitude, the movements of
Napoleon. Dull flashes streaked the eastern horizon, and muttered
threats hardly moved the air. Repeatedly he wrote to Napoleon, once
addressing him as “The first of the blacks to the first of the
whites”—repeatedly he urged his own loyalty, and that of his race,
to France. Napoleon’s vanity was touched—Toussaint was talked about
in Europe—in Paris.[54] He was another star—a black Napoleon! The
Corsican stomach was quick.
What cared Napoleon, for France? What cared he for a St. Domingo
negro? Napoleon Buonaparte was Napoleon’s god, and him he worshiped.
He received Toussaint’s suggestions and requests with contempt. This
neglect moved Toussaint more than all other things; for, in the
distance, Napoleon seemed to him a magnanimous and god-descended
hero, a lover of liberty—as, indeed, at that time he did to many men
in France—as he does to one Abbott at the present time. If we look
for weakness in Louverture, we shall find it here; he trusted France,
he trusted Napoleon, and he trusted the planters of St. Domingo. He
believed that, by his justice and magnanimity to them, he could move
them from their insane purpose of reënslaving the blacks. If he had
brayed them in mortars he could not have got it out of them. Knowing
the experience, education, resources, and power of the whites, and
the ignorance and weakness of the blacks, he sought support in his
work from the whites. He, in a degree, dimmed the prestige of his
greatness, in the eyes of the blacks, by concessions made to the
whites. So desirous was he of the confidence of the whites, and of a
character for strict impartiality, that when the blacks in General
Moyse’s district, in their sensitive fears of reënslavement, rose and
murdered some of the whites, and were not hindered by General Moyse,
he had him court-martialled, and allowed him to be shot, and he a
superb officer and his own nephew. He disarmed his troops and sent
them back to the labors of agriculture. But all these availed nothing.
Peace in Europe foreboded war in St. Domingo. Exasperated planters
gathered in Paris; they clamored as ever for their old wealth and
rights—they said:—“No slavery, no colonies!” Napoleon’s counselors
recommended force. “What do you think of the matter?” said Napoleon,
to the Abbé Grégoire. “I think,” said he, “that if these counselors
were to change color, they would change opinions.” He never said
more truth with less words. Make the blacks white, and to-morrow
negro slavery would be ended. The restoration of slavery was
resolved on in the Legislative body, by a vote of two hundred and
twelve against sixty-five![55] This was in Republican France, under
a Republican Consul, who shouted the words, “Peace” and “Liberty”
till he was hoarse, and the world became sick of them and him. On
the 20th May, 1801, Buonaparte issued the decree restoring the
colonies to their condition previous to 1789—this authorized the
slave-trade and abrogated liberty. But, perhaps, he had gone too
fast? He afterwards decreed that St. Domingo and Guadaloupe should
be excepted—for how long, he omitted to say. When General Vincent
presented to him the draft for the Constitution sent by Toussaint,
he caught his opportunity—“Here,” said he, “is a revolted slave whom
we must punish—the honor of France is outraged.” Vincent pleaded;
the minister, Forfait, attempted dissuasion—he was silenced by
this answer:—“There are sixty thousand men that I want to send to
a distance!” Old soldiers of the Republic—some of whom believed
“Liberty” to be other than a shout.
The expedition was resolved on—man could not hinder it. The whites
interested in this island were exultant; their joy vibrated in the
hearts of some whites and mulattoes in St. Domingo. They reckoned
that the blacks would at once pass under the yoke—created by God, as
they were, for slavery; they forgot what twelve years of struggle
and liberty might have done for the negro.[56] Yet, why is this
great army sent? The colony is not in rebellion; it has not denied
the authority of France—indeed, has not Toussaint driven out the
Spaniards and English—those enemies of France—and refused liberty and
protection from England? For what, then, is this mighty armament!
these fifty-six warlike ships, this General Le Clerc, this Admiral
Joyeuse, these 30,000 veteran soldiers—are all these needed to
restore to France the island which she has never lost? If not for
that, then for what are they intended?