proposed conference with General Le Clerc. On the way, the people,
thinking peace was secured without the sacrifice of their freedom,
hailed him as their benefactor. Girls strewed flowers in his path, and
mothers held up their children to bless him. General Le Clerc received
him with a salute of artillery, and made a speech in which he highly
complimented his bravery, magnanimity, and good faith, and expressed a
hope that, though he chose to live in retirement, he would continue to
assist the government of the island by his wise counsels. In the
presence of the troops on both sides, he took an oath on the cross to
protect the freedom of St. Domingo. With the same solemn formalities,
General Toussaint promised that the treaty of peace should be faithfully
observed.
The next day, he explained fully to his officers and soldiers what were
the terms of the treaty, and impressed upon their minds that such a
promise could not be violated without committing the sin of perjury. He
thanked them all for the courage and devotedness they had shown under
his command, embraced his officers, and bade them an affectionate
farewell. They shed tears, and expressed the greatest reluctance to part
with him; but he told them that such a course would best conduce to
public tranquillity. The soldiers were inconsolable. They followed him,
calling out in the saddest tones, "Have you deserted us?" He replied:
"No, my children. Do not be uneasy. Your officers are all under arms,
and at their posts."
Twelve years had passed since he was working on the Breda estate, and
seeing houses and cane-fields on fire in every direction, had said to
his wife, "The slaves have risen." Since that time, his life had been
one scene of excitement, danger, ceaseless exertion, and overwhelming
responsibility. He had been commander-in-chief of the armies of St.
Domingo during five years, and governor of the island about one year.
Now, with a heart full of anxiety for his people, but cheered by hopes
of domestic happiness, he retired, far from the scene of his official
splendor, to Ennery, a beautiful valley among the mountains. Surrounded
by his family, he busied himself with clearing up the land and
cultivating oranges, bananas, and coffee. The people round about often
came to him for advice, and he freely assisted his neighbors in making
repairs and improvements. Strangers often visited him, and when he rode
abroad he was greeted with every demonstration of respect.
General Le Clerc, meanwhile, was attacked by a new and terrible enemy.
His troops, unused to the climate, were cut down by yellow fever, as a
mower cuts grass. In this situation, had Toussaint excited the blacks
against them, they might have been exterminated; but he had sworn to
observe the treaty, and he was never known to break his word. The
kind-hearted negroes, in many cases, took pity on the suffering French
soldiers; they carried them many little comforts, and even took them
into their houses, and nursed them tenderly.
Meanwhile, General Le Clerc's difficulties increased. His troops were
dying fast under the influence of the hot season; provisions were
getting scarce; he wanted to disband the negro troops that had joined
him, but they were wide awake and suspicious on the subject of Slavery,
and he dared not propose to disarm them. He was so treacherous himself
that he could not believe in the sincerity of others. He was always
suspecting that Toussaint would again take command of the blacks and
attack the remnant of his army while it was enfeebled by disease.
Bonaparte also felt that the popularity of Toussaint stood much in the
way of his accomplishing the design of restoring Slavery. It was
desirable to get him out of the way upon some pretext. The French
officers made him the object of a series of petty insults, and wantonly
destroyed the fruit on his grounds. By these means they hoped to provoke
him to excite an insurrection, that they might have an excuse for
arresting him. His friends warned him that these continual insults and
depredations foreboded mischief, and that he ought not to submit to
them. He replied, "It is a sacred duty to expose life when the freedom
of one's country is in peril; but to rouse the people to save one's own
life is inglorious."
Finding private remonstrances of no use, he reported to the French
head-quarters that he and his neighbors were much annoyed by the conduct
of the French troops, and that the people in the valley were made very
uneasy by their rude manners and their depredations on property. He
received a very polite answer from General Brunet, inviting him to come
to his house to confer with him on that and other matters connected with
the public tranquillity. The letter closed with these words: "You will
not find all the pleasures I would wish to welcome you with, but you
will find the frankness of an honorable man, who desires nothing but the
happiness of the colony, and your own happiness. If Madame Toussaint,
with whom it would give me the greatest pleasure to become acquainted,
could accompany you, I should be gratified. If she has occasion for
horses, I will send her mine. Never, General, will you find a more
sincere friend than myself."
Toussaint, who was sincerely desirous to preserve the public peace, and
who was too honest to suspect treachery under such a friendly form, went
to General Brunet's head-quarters, with a few attendants, on the 10th of
June, 1802. He was received with the greatest respect and cordiality.
His host consulted with him concerning the interests of the colony; and
they examined maps together till toward evening, when General Brunet
left the room. An officer with twenty armed men entered, saying: "The
Captain-General has ordered me to arrest you. Your attendants are
overpowered. If you resist, you are a dead man." Toussaint's first
impulse was to defend himself; but seeing it would be useless against
such numbers, he resigned himself to his hard fate, saying, "Heaven will
avenge my cause."
His papers were seized, his house rifled and burned, his wife and
children captured, and at midnight they were all carried on board the
French ship Hero, without being allowed to take even a change of
clothing. His wrists were chained, he was locked in a cabin guarded by
soldiers with fixed bayonets, and not permitted to hold any
communication with his family. As the vessel sailed away from St.
Domingo, Toussaint, gazing on the outline of its mountains for the last
time, said, "They have cut down the tree of Liberty; but the roots are
many and deep, and it will sprout again."
Toussaint l'Ouverture was even then incapable of imagining the base
designs against him. He supposed that he had been accused of something,
and was to be carried to France for trial. Conscious of uniform fidelity
to the French government, he felt no uneasiness as to the result, though
the treachery and violence with which he had been treated in return for
his great services made him very sad. Arrived on the shores of France,
he was removed to another vessel, and allowed only a few moments to say
farewell to his wife and children. They embraced him with tears, and
begged him to remember them, who had always loved him so dearly.
From the vessel, instead of being carried to Paris for trial, as he
expected, he was hurried into a carriage, and, followed by a strong
guard, was carried to the dismal Castle of Joux, near the borders of
Switzerland. That ancient castle stands among the mountains of Jura, on
the summit of a solid rock five hundred feet high. He was placed in a
deep, dark dungeon, from the walls of which the water dripped
continually. This was in August, 1802. But though it was summer
elsewhere, it was damp and cold in Toussaint's dreary cell. The keeper
was allowed about four shillings a day to provide food for him; and one
faithful servant, who had accompanied the family from St. Domingo, was
allowed to remain with him.
His spirits were kept up for some time with the daily expectation of
being summoned to attend his trial. But time passed on, and he could
obtain no tidings from the French government, or from his family. In a
letter to General Bonaparte, beseeching him to let him know of what he
was accused, and to grant him a trial, he wrote:--
"I have served my country with honor, fidelity, and integrity. All who
know me will do me the justice to acknowledge this. At the time of the
revolution, I spent all I had in the service of my country. I purchased
but one small estate, on which to establish my wife and family. I
neglected nothing for the welfare of St. Domingo. I made it my duty and
pleasure to develop all the resources of that beautiful colony. Since I
entered the service of the republic I have not claimed a penny of my
salary. I have taken money from the treasury only for public use. If I
was wrong in forming a constitution, it was through my great desire to
do good, and thinking it would please the government under which I
served. I have had the misfortune to incur your displeasure; but I am
strong in the consciousness of integrity and fidelity; and I dare affirm
that among all the servants of the state no one is more honest than
myself."
This letter is still in existence, and some of the words are blotted out
by tears that fell while the noble captive was writing it. Bonaparte
paid no attention to this manly appeal. After weary waiting, Toussaint
wrote again:--
"First Consul, it is a misfortune to me that I am not known to you. If
you had thoroughly known me while I was in St. Domingo, you would have
done me more justice. I am not learned; I am ignorant: but my heart is
good. My father showed me the road to virtue and honor, and I am very
strong in my conscience in that matter. If I had not been so devoted to
the French government I should not be here. All my life I have been in
active service, and now I am a miserable prisoner, without power to do
anything, sunk in grief, and with health impaired. I ask you for my
freedom, that I may labor for the support of my family. For my venerable
father, now a hundred and five years old, who is blind, and needs my
assistance; for my dearly loved wife, who, separated from me, cannot, I
fear, endure the afflictions that overwhelm her; and for my cherished
family, who have made the happiness of my life. I call on your
greatness. Let your heart be softened by my misfortunes."
This touching appeal met with the same fate as the first. Bonaparte even
had the meanness to forbid the prisoner's wearing an officer's uniform.
When he asked for a change of clothing, the cast-off suit of a soldier
and a pair of old boots were sent him. There seemed to be a deliberate
system of heaping contempt upon him. The daily sum allowed for his food
was diminished, and the cold winds of autumn began to howl round his
dungeon. They doubtless thought that so old a man, accustomed to
tropical warmth, and the devotion of a loving family, would die under
the combined influence of solitude, cold, and scanty food. But his iron
constitution withstood the severe test. The next step was to deprive him
of his faithful servant, Mars Plaisir. Seeing him weep bitterly,
Toussaint said to him: "Would I could console thee under this cruel
separation. Be assured I shall never forget thy faithful services. Carry
my last farewell to my wife and family."
The farewell never reached them. Mars Plaisir was lodged in another
prison, lest he should tell of the slow murder that was going on in the
Castle of Joux. Toussaint's supply of food was gradually diminished,
till he had barely enough to keep him alive,--merely a little meal
daily, which he had to prepare for himself in an earthen jug. The walls
sparkled with frost, and the floor was slippery with ice, except
immediately around his little fire. Thus he passed through a most
miserable winter. He was thin as a skeleton; but still he did not die.
As a last resort, the governor of the castle went away and took the keys
of the dungeon with him. He was gone three days; and when he returned,
Toussaint was lying stiff and cold on his heap of straw. Doctors were
called in to examine him, and they certified that he died of apoplexy.
This was in April, 1803, after he had been more than eight months in
that horrid dungeon, and when he was a little more than sixty years old.
The body was buried in the chapel under the castle. It was given out to
the world that the deceased prisoner was a revolted slave, who had been
guilty of every species of robbery and cruelty; and that he had been
thrown into prison for plotting to deliver the island of St. Domingo
into the hands of the English.
When the family of Toussaint l'Ouverture were informed of his death,
they were overwhelmed with grief, though they had no idea of the horrid
circumstances connected with it. The two oldest sons tried to escape
from France, but were seized and imprisoned. The French government
feared the consequences of their returning to St. Domingo. The youngest
son soon after died of consumption. Madame Toussaint sank under the
weight of her great afflictions. Her health became very feeble, and at
times her mind wandered. When the power of Bonaparte was overthrown, and
a new government introduced into France, a pension was granted for her
support, and her two sons were released from prison. She died in their
arms in 1816.
* * * * *
There was great consternation in St. Domingo when it was known that
Toussaint l'Ouverture had been kidnapped and carried off. There was an
attempt at mutiny among the black soldiers; but the leaders were shot by
the French, and the spirit of insurrection was put down for a time. No
tidings could be obtained from Toussaint, and after a while he was
generally believed to be dead. But his prediction was fulfilled. The
tree of Liberty, that had been cut down, did sprout again. Bonaparte
sent new troops to St. Domingo to supply the place of those cut off by
yellow fever. The French officers frequently subjected black soldiers to
the lash, a punishment which had never been inflicted upon them since
the days of Slavery. An active slave-trade was carried on with the other
French colonies, where Slavery had been restored, and people were
frequently smuggled away from St. Domingo and sold. The mulattoes found
out that people of their color were sold, as well as blacks. They had
formerly acted against their mothers' race, not because they were worse
than other men, but because they had the same human nature that other
men have. Being free born, and many of them educated and wealthy, and
slaveholders also, they despised the blacks, who had always been slaves;
but when Slavery touched people of their own color, they were ready to
act with the negroes against the whites. Toussaint's generals, though
they still held their old rank in the army, grew more and more
distrustful of the French. When General Christophe accepted an
invitation to dine with General Le Clerc, he ordered his troops to be in
readiness for a sudden blow. The French officer who sat next him at
table urged him to drink a great deal of wine; but Christophe was on his
guard, and kept his wits about him. At last he repulsed the offer of
wine with great rudeness, whereupon Le Clerc summoned his guard to be in
readiness, and began to accuse Toussaint of treachery to the whites.
"Treachery!" exclaimed the indignant Christophe. "Have you not broken
oaths and treaties, and violated the sacred rights of hospitality? Those
whose blood flows for our liberty are rewarded with prison, banishment,
death. Friends, soldiers, heroes of our mountains, are no longer around
me. Toussaint, the pride of our race, the terror of our enemies, whose
genius led us from Slavery to Liberty, who adorned peace with lovely
virtues, whose glory fills the world, was put in irons, like the vilest
criminal!"
General Le Clerc deemed it prudent to preserve outward composure, for
General Christophe had informed him that troops were in readiness to
protect him. But notwithstanding many ominous symptoms of discontent
among the blacks and mulattoes, he blindly persevered in carrying out
the cruel policy of Bonaparte. Shiploads of slaves were brought into St.
Domingo and openly sold. Then came a decree authorizing slaveholders to
resume their old authority over the blacks. Bitterly did Toussaint's
officers regret having trusted to the promises of the French
authorities. The consciousness of having been deceived made the fire of
freedom burn all the more fiercely in their souls. The blacks were
everywhere ready to die rather than be slaves again. In November, 1803,
General Christophe published a document in which he said:--
"The independence of St. Domingo is proclaimed. Toward men who do us
justice we will act as brothers. But we have sworn not to listen with
clemency to any one who speaks to us of Slavery. We will be inexorable,
perhaps even cruel, toward those who come from Europe to bring among us
death and servitude. No sacrifice is too costly, and all means are
lawful, when men find that freedom, the greatest of all blessings, is to
be wrested from them."
The closing scenes of the revolution were too horrible to be described.
General Rochambeau, who commanded the French army after the death of
General Le Clerc, was a tyrannical and cruel tool of the slaveholders.
Everywhere colored men were seized and executed without forms of law.
Maurepas, who had been one of Toussaint's most distinguished generals,
was seized on suspicion of favoring insurrection. His epaulets were
nailed to his shoulders with spikes, he was suspended from the yard-arm
of a vessel, while his wife and children, and four hundred of his black
soldiers, were thrown over to the sharks before his eyes. The trees were
hung with the corpses of negroes. Some were torn to pieces by
bloodhounds trained for the purpose; some were burnt alive. Sixteen of
Toussaint's bravest generals were chained by the neck to the rocks of an
uninhabited island, and left there to perish. Most of these victims were
firm in the midst of their tortures, and died with the precious word
Freedom on their lips. A mother, whose daughters were going to be
executed, said to them: "Be thankful. You will not live to be the
mothers of slaves."
I am happy to record that all the whites were not destitute of feeling.
Some sea-captains, who were ordered to take negroes out to sea and drown
them, contrived to aid their escape to the mountains, or landed them on
other shores.
The blacks, driven to desperation, became as cruel as their oppressors.
They visited upon white men, women, and children all the barbarities
they had seen and suffered. The wife of General Paul, brother of
Toussaint, was dragged from her peaceful home, and drowned by French
soldiers. This murder made him perfectly crazy with revenge. Though
naturally of a mild disposition, he thenceforth had no mercy on anybody
of white complexion. His old father, Gaou-Guinou, who survived Toussaint
about a year, was filled with the same spirit, and the last words he
uttered were a malediction on the whites. The spirit of the infernal
regions raged throughout all classes, and it was all owing to the
wickedness of Slavery.
On the last day of November, 1803, little more than a year after the
abduction of Toussaint, the French were driven from the island, never
more to return. The colony, which might have been a source of wealth to
them, if Toussaint had been allowed to carry out his plans, was lost to
France forever. St. Domingo became independent, under its old name of
Hayti; and General Christophe, who was as able as Toussaint, but more
ambitious, was proclaimed emperor. A law was passed, and still remains
in force, that no white man should own a foot of soil on the island. But
white Americans and Europeans reside there, and transact various kinds
of business under the protection of equal laws.
Perhaps it sometimes seemed to Toussaint, in the loneliness of his
dungeon, as if all his great sacrifices and efforts for his oppressed
race had been in vain. But they were not in vain. God raised him up to
do a great work, which he faithfully performed; and his spirit is still
"marching on." Slavery becomes more and more odious in the civilized
world, and nation after nation abolishes it. Fifty years after the death
of Toussaint all the slaves in the French colonies were emancipated. How
his spirit must rejoice to look on the West Indies now!
In 1850 the grave of Toussaint l'Ouverture was discovered by some
engineers at work on the Castle of Joux. His skull was placed on a shelf
in the dungeon where he died, and is shown to travellers who visit the
place.
For a long while great injustice was done to the memory of Toussaint
l'Ouverture, and also to the blacks who fought so fiercely in resistance
of Slavery; for the histories of St. Domingo were written by prejudiced
French writers, or by equally prejudiced mulattoes. But at last the
truth is made known. Candid, well-informed persons now acknowledge that
the blacks of St. Domingo sinned cruelly because they were cruelly
sinned against; and Toussaint l'Ouverture, seen in the light of his own
actions, is acknowledged to be one of the greatest and best men the
world has ever produced. A very distinguished English poet, named
Wordsworth, has written an admirable sonnet to his memory. The
celebrated Harriet Martineau, of England, has made him the hero of a
beautiful novel. Wendell Phillips, one of the most eloquent speakers in
the United States, has eulogized his memory in a noble lecture,
delivered in various parts of the country, before thousands and
thousands of hearers. And James Redpath has recently published in Boston
a biography of Toussaint l'Ouverture, truthfully portraying the pure and
great soul of that martyred hero.
Well may the Freedmen of the United States take pride in Toussaint
l'Ouverture, as the man who made an opening of freedom for their
oppressed race, and by the greatness of his character and achievements
proved the capabilities of Black Men.
* * * * *
It is better to be a lean freeman than a fat slave.--_A Proverb in
Hayti._
THE ASPIRATIONS OF MINGO.
A slave in one of our Southern States, named Mingo, was endowed with
uncommon abilities. If he had been a white man, his talents would have
secured him an honorable position; but being colored, his great
intelligence only served to make him an object of suspicion. He was
thrown into prison, to be sold. He wrote the following lines on the
walls, which were afterward found and copied. A Southern gentleman sent
them to a friend in Boston, as a curiosity, and they were published in
the Boston Journal, many years ago. The night after Mingo wrote them, he
escaped from the slave-prison; but he was tracked and caught by
bloodhounds, who tore him in such a shocking manner that he died. By
that dreadful process his great soul was released from his enslaved
body. His wife lived to be an aged woman, and was said to have many of
his poems in her possession. Here are the lines he wrote in his agony
while in prison:--
"Good God! and must I leave them now,
My wife, my children, in their woe?
'Tis mockery to say I'm sold!
But I forget these chains so cold,
Which goad my bleeding limbs; though high
My reason mounts above the sky.
Dear wife, they cannot sell the rose
Of love that in my bosom glows.
Remember, as your tears may start,
They cannot sell the immortal part.
Thou Sun, which lightest bond and free,
Tell me, I pray, is liberty
The lot of those who noblest feel,
And oftest to Jehovah kneel?
Then I may say, but not with pride,
I feel the rushings of the tide
Of reason and of eloquence,
Which strive and yearn for eminence.
I feel high manhood on me now,
A spirit-glory on my brow;
I feel a thrill of music roll,
Like angel-harpings, through my soul;
While poesy, with rustling wings,
Upon my spirit rests and sings.
_He_ sweeps my heart's deep throbbing lyre,
Who touched Isaiah's lips with fire."
May God forgive his oppressors.
BURY ME IN A FREE LAND.
BY FRANCES E. W. HARPER.
Make me a grave where'er you will,
In a lowly plain or a lofty hill;
Make it among earth's humblest graves,
But not in a land where men are slaves.
I ask no monument proud and high,
To arrest the gaze of the passers by;
All that my yearning spirit craves
Is, Bury me not in a Land of Slaves.
PHILLIS WHEATLEY.
BY L. MARIA CHILD.