Papalier was probably the only person in the valley who did not attend
mass on this saint's-day morning. The Spanish general was early seen,
surrounded by his staff, moving towards the rising ground, outside the
camp, on which stood the church, erected for the use of the troops when
the encampment was formed. The soldiers, both Spanish and negro, had
some time before filed out of their tents, and been formed for their
short march; and they now came up in order, the whites approaching on
the right, and the blacks on the left, till their forces joined before
the church. The sun had not yet shone down into the valley, and the dew
lay on the grass, and dropped like rain from the broad eaves of the
church-roof--from the points of the palm-leaves with which it was
thatched.
This church was little more than a covered enclosure. It was well
shaded from the heat of the sun by its broad and low roof; but, between
the corner posts, the sides could hardly be said to be filled in by the
bamboos which stood like slender columns at intervals of several inches,
so that all that passed within could be seen from without, except that
the vestry and the part behind the altar had their walls interwoven with
withes, so as to be impervious to the eye. The ground was strewn thick
with moss,--cushioned throughout for the knees of the worshippers. The
seats were rude wooden benches, except the chair, covered with damask,
which was reserved for the Marquis d'Hermona.
Here the General took his place, his staff ranging themselves on the
benches behind. Jean Francais entered after him, and seated himself on
the opposite range of benches. Next followed Toussaint Breda, alone,
having left his sons outside with the soldiers. Some few more advanced
towards the altar; it being understood that those who did so wished to
communicate. An interval of a few empty benches was then left, and the
lower end of the church was thronged by such of the soldiery as could
find room; the rest closing in round the building, so as to hear the
voice of the priest, and join in the service.
There was a gay air about the assemblage, scarcely subdued by the place,
and the occasion which brought them to it. Almost every man carried a
stem of the white amaryllis, plucked from among the high grass, with
which it grew thickly intermixed all over the valley; and beautiful to
the eye were the snowy, drooping blossoms, contrasted with the rich dark
green of their leaves. Some few brought twigs of the orange and the
lime; and the sweet odour of the blossoms pervaded the place like a holy
incense, as the first stirring airs of morning breathed around and
through the building. There were smiles on almost every face; and a hum
of low but joyous greetings was heard without, till the loud voice of
the priest, reciting the Creed, hushed every other. The only
countenance of great seriousness present was that of Toussaint, and his
bore an expression of solemnity, if not of melancholy, which struck
every one who looked upon him--and he always was looked upon by every
one. His personal qualities had strongly attracted the attention of the
Spanish general. Jean Francais watched his every movement with the
mingled triumph and jealousy of a superior in rank, but a rival in fame;
and by the negro troops he was so beloved, that nothing but the strict
discipline which he enforced could have prevented their following him in
crowds wherever he went. Whenever he smiled, as he passed along, in
conversation, they laughed without inquiring why; and now, this morning,
on observing the gravity of his countenance, they glanced from one to
another, as if to inquire the cause.
The priest, having communicated, at length descended from before the
altar, to administer the water to such as desired to receive it. Among
these, Toussaint bent his head lowest--so low, that the first slanting
sunbeam that entered beneath the thatch seemed to rest upon his head,
while every other head remained in the shadow of the roof. In after
days, the negroes then present recalled this appearance. Jean Francais,
observing that General Hermona was making some remark about Toussaint to
the officers about him, endeavoured to assume an expression of deep
devotion also; but in vain. No one thought of saying of him what the
General was at that moment saying of his brother in arms--"God could not
visit a soul more pure."
When the blessing had been given, and the few concluding verses of
Scripture read, the General was the first to leave his place. It seemed
as if he and Toussaint moved towards one another by the same impulse,
for they met in the aisle between the benches.
"I have a few words of business to speak with you, General--a work of
justice to ask you to perform without delay," said Toussaint.
"Good!" said the General. "In justice there should be no delay. I will
therefore breakfast with you in your tent. Shall we proceed?"
He put his arm within that of Toussaint, who, however, gently withdrew
his, and stepped back with a profound bow of respect. General Hermona
looked as if he scarcely knew whether to take this as an act of
humility, or to be offended; but he smiled on Toussaint's saying--
"It is not without reasons that I decline honour in this place this
morning--reasons which I will explain. Shall I conduct you to my tent?
And these gentlemen of your staff?"
"As we have business, my friend, I will come alone. I shall be sorry if
there is any quarrel between us, Toussaint. If you have to ask justice
of me, I declare to you I know not the cause."
"It is not for myself, General, that I ask justice. I have ever
received from you more than justice."
"You have attached your men to yourself with singular skill," said the
General, on their way down the slope from the church, as he closely
observed the countenances of the black soldiers, which brightened, as if
touched by the sunlight, on the approach of their commander. "Their
attachment to you is singular. I no longer wonder at your achievements
in the field."
"It is by no skill of mine," replied Toussaint; "it is by the power of
past tyranny. The hearts of negroes are made to love. Hitherto, all
love in which the mind could share has been bestowed upon those who
degraded and despised them. In me they see one whom, while obeying,
they may love as a brother."
"The same might be said of Jean Francais, as far as your reasons go; but
Jean Francais is not beloved like you. He looks gayer than you, my
friend, notwithstanding. He is happy in his new rank, probably. You
have heard that he is ennobled by the court of Spain?"
"I had not heard it. It will please him."
"It evidently does. He is made a noble; and his military rank is now
that of lieutenant-General. Your turn will come next, my friend; and if
promotion went strictly according to personal merit, no one would have
been advanced sooner than you."
"I do not desire promotion, and--"
"Ah! there your stoical philosophy comes in. But I will show you
another way of applying it. Rank brings cares; so that one who is not a
stoic may have an excuse for shrinking from it; but a stoic despises
cares. Ha! we have some young soldiers here," he said, as Moyse and his
cousins stood beside the way, to make their obeisance; "and very perfect
soldiers they look, young as they are. They seem born for military
service."
"They were born slaves, my lord; but they have now the loyal hearts of
freemen within them, amidst the ignorance and follies of their youth."
"They are--"
"My nephew and my two sons, my lord."
"And why mounted at this hour?"
"They are going to their homes, by my direction."
"If it were not that you have business with me, which I suppose you
desire them not to overhear--"
"It is as you say, General."
"If it had not been so, I would have requested that they might be at our
table this morning. As it is, I will not delay their journey."
And the General touched his hat to the lads, with a graciousness which
made them bend low their uncovered heads, and report marvels at home of
the deportment of the Marquis d'Hermona. Seeing how their father was
occupied, they were satisfied with a grasp of his hand as he passed,
received from him a letter for their mother, and waited only till he and
his guest had disappeared within the tent, to gallop off. They wondered
at being made the bearers of a letter, as they knew that his horse was
ordered to be ready beside his tent immediately after breakfast, and had
not a doubt of his arriving at the shore almost as soon as themselves.
Papalier was lounging on the couch beside the table where breakfast was
spread, when General Hermona and his host offered. He started up,
casting a look of doubt upon Toussaint.
"Fear nothing, Monsieur Papalier," said Toussaint; "General Hermona has
engaged to listen to my plea for justice. My lord, Monsieur Papalier
was amicably received by your lordship on crossing the frontier, and, on
the strength of your welcome, has remained on the island till too late
to escape, without your especial protection, a fate he dreads."
"You mean being delivered up as a republican?"
"Into the hands of my own negroes, my lord," said Papalier, bitterly.
"That is the fate secretly designed for any unfortunate planter who may
yet have survived the recent troubles over the frontier."
"But how can I protect you? The arrangement is none of mine: I cannot
interfere with it."
"Only by forgetting in this single instance the point of time at which
we have arrived, and furnishing me with a pass which shall enable me to
sail for Europe, as I acknowledge I ought to have done long ago."
"So this is the act of justice you asked from me, Toussaint. Why did
you not say favour? I shall do it with much more pleasure as a slight
favour to one whom I strongly regard. You shall have your safe-conduct,
Monsieur Papalier. In the meantime--"
And he looked towards the steaming chocolate and the piles of fruit on
the table, as if his appetite were growing urgent.
"One word more, my lord, before offering you my welcome to my table,"
said Toussaint. "I beseech you to consider the granting this pass as an
act of justice, or of anything rather than favour to me. Yesterday, I
would have accepted a hundred favours from you: to-day, with equal
respect, I must refuse even one. I pledge myself to tell you why before
you rise from table, to which I now invite you."
"I do not understand all this, Toussaint."
"I have pledged myself to explain."
"And you say there is no personal feeling--no offence between us?"
"If any, my lord, I alone am the offender. Will you be pleased to--"
"Oh, yes, I will breakfast; and was never more ready. Monsieur
Papalier, our morning mass has kept you waiting, I fear."
Papalier seated himself, but was near starting up again when he saw his
negro host preparing to take his place between his two quests, Papalier
had never yet sat at table with a negro, and his impulse was to resent
the necessity; but a stern look from the General warned him to submit
quietly to the usages of the new state of society which he had remained
to witness; and he sat through the meal, joining occasionally in the
conversation, which, for his sake, was kept clear of subjects which
might annoy him.
As soon as the servants, after producing pen, ink, and paper, had
withdrawn, the General wrote a safe-conduct, and delivered it to
Monsieur Papalier, with an intimation that an attendant should be ready
to guide him to the nearest port, at his earliest convenience. Papalier
understood this as it was meant--as a hint that there must be no delay.
He declared, therefore, his wish to depart, as soon as the heat of the
day should decline.
"And now, my lord--," said Toussaint, "Yes, now for the explanation of
this fancy of not receiving kindness from your best friends. Let us
hear."
"I have this morning, my lord, despatched letters to Don Joachim Garcia,
at Saint Domingo--"
"You are in communication with the Colonial Government; and not through
me! What can this mean?"
"And here, my lord, are exact copies of my letters, which I request the
favour of you to read, and, if I may be permitted to say so, without
haste or prejudice--though, in this case, it is much to ask."
Toussaint disappeared in the inner apartment; but not before he saw a
smile on Papalier's face--a smile which told of amusement at the idea of
a negro sending dispatches of any importance to the head of the
government of the Spanish colony.
The General did not seem to feel any of the same amusement. His
countenance was perplexed and anxious. He certainly obeyed Toussaint's
wishes as to not being in haste: for he read the papers (which were few
and short) again and again. He had not laid them down when Toussaint
re-appeared from within--no longer glittering in his uniform and
polished arms, but dressed in his old plantation clothes, and with his
woollen cap in his hand. Both his guests first gazed at him, and then
started from their seats.
Toussaint merely passed through the tent, bowing low to the General, and
bidding him farewell. A confused noise outside, followed by a shout,
roused Hermona from his astonishment.
"He is addressing the troops!" he cried, drawing his sword, and rushing
forth.
Toussaint was not addressing the troops. He was merely informing
Jacques, whom he had requested to lie in waiting there, beside his
horse, that he was no longer a commander--no longer in the forces; and
that the recent proclamation, by showing him that the cause of negro
freedom was now one with that of the present government of France, was
the reason of his retirement from the Spanish territory. He explained
himself thus far, in order that he might not be considered a traitor to
the lost cause of royalty in France; but, rather, loyal to that of his
colour, from the first day of its becoming a cause.
Numbers became aware that something unusual was going forward, and were
thronging to the spot, when the General rushed forth, sword in hand,
shouting aloud--
"The traitor! Seize the traitor! Soldiers! seize the traitor!"
Toussaint turned in an instant, and sprang upon his horse. Not a negro
would lay hands on him; but they cast upon him, in token of honour, the
blossoms of the amaryllis and the orange that they carried. The Spanish
soldiers, however, endeavoured to close round him and hem him in, as the
General's voice was still heard--
"Seize him! Bring him in, dead or alive!"
Toussaint, however, was a perfect horseman; and his favourite horse
served him well in this crisis. It burst through, or bounded over, all
opposition, and, amidst a shower of white blossoms which strewed the
way, instantly carried him beyond the camp. Well-mounted soldiers, and
many of them, were behind, however; and it was a hard race between the
fugitive and his pursuers, as it was witnessed from the camp. Along the
river bank, and over the bridge, the danger of Toussaint appeared
extreme; and the negroes, watching the countenance of Jacques, preserved
a dead silence when all the horsemen had disappeared in the woods which
clothed the steep. Then all eyes were turned towards the summit of that
ridge, where the road crossed a space clear of trees; and there, in an
incredibly short time, appeared the solitary horseman, who, unencumbered
with heavy arms, and lightly clothed, had greatly the advantage of the
soldiers in mounting the ascent. He was still followed; but he was just
disappearing over the ridge, when the foremost soldier issued from the
wood behind him.
"He is safe! he is safe!" was murmured through the throng; and the words
reached the ears of the General in a tone which convinced him that the
attachment of the black troops to Toussaint Breda was as strong as he
himself had that morning declared it to be.
"Now you see, General," said Papalier, turning into the tent, from which
he too had come forth in the excitement of the scene--"you see what you
have to expect from these negroes."
"I see what I have to expect from you," replied the General, with
severity. "It is enough to witness how you speak of a man to whom you
owe your life this very day--and not for the first time."
"Nay, General, I have called him no names--not even `traitor.'"
"I have not owed him my life, Monsieur Papalier; and you are not the
commander of these forces. It is my duty to prevent the defection of
the negro troops; and I therefore used the language of the government I
serve in proclaiming him a traitor. Had it been in mere speculation
between him and myself that those papers had come in question, God knows
I should have called him something very different."
"There is something in the man that infatuates--that blinds one's
judgment, certainly," said Papalier. "His master, Bayou, spoiled him
with letting him educate himself to an absurd extent. I always told
Bayou so; and there is no saying now what the consequences may be. It
is my opinion that we have not heard the last of him yet."
"Probably," said the General, gathering up his papers as his aide
entered, and leaving the tent in conversation with him, almost without a
farewell notice of Papalier.
The negro troops were busy to a man, in learning from Jacques, and
repeating to one another, the particulars of what was in the
proclamation, and the reasons of Toussaint's departure. General Hermona
found that the two remaining black leaders, Jean Francais and Biasson,
were not infected by Toussaint's convictions; that, on the contrary,
they were far from sorry that he was thus gone, leaving them to the full
enjoyment of Spanish grace. They addressed their soldiers in favour of
loyalty, and in denunciation of treason, and treated the proclamation as
slightly as Don Joachim Garcia could possibly have wished. They met
with little response, however; and every one felt, amidst the show and
parade and festivity of the day, a restlessness and uncertainty which he
perceived existed no less in his neighbour than in himself. No one's
mind was in the business or enjoyment of the festival; and no one could
be greatly surprised at anything that might take place, though the men
were sufficiently orderly in the discharge of their duty to render any
interference with them unwarrantable, and any precautions against their
defection impossible. The great hope lay in the influence of the two
leaders who remained, as the great fear was of that of the one who was
gone.
The Spanish force was small, constituting only about one-fourth of the
whole; and of these, the best mounted had not returned from the pursuit
of Toussaint;--not because they could follow him far in the enemy's
country, but because it required some skill and caution to get back in
broad day, after having roused expectation all along the road.
While the leaders were anxiously calculating probabilities, and
reckoning forces, Jacques was satisfying himself that the preponderance
of numbers was greatly on the side of his absent friend. His hatred of
the whites, which had never intermitted, was wrought up to strong
passion this day by the treatment the proclamation and his friend had
received. He exulted in the thought of being able to humble the
Spaniards by withdrawing the force which enabled them to hold their
posts, and by making him whom they called a traitor more powerful in the
cause of the blacks than they could henceforth be in that of royalist
France. Fired with these thoughts, he was hastily passing the tent of
Toussaint, which he had supposed deserted, when he heard from within,
speaking in anger and fear, a voice which he well knew, and which had
power over him. He had strong reasons for remembering the first time he
had seen Therese--on the night of the escape across the frontier. She
was strongly associated with his feelings towards the class to which her
owner belonged; and he knew that she, beautiful, lonely, and wretched,
shared those feelings. If he had not known this from words dropped by
her during the events of this morning, he would have learned it now; for
she was declaring her thoughts to her master, loudly enough for any one
who passed by to overhear.
Jacques entered the tent, and there stood Therese, declaring that she
would leave her master, and never see him more, but prevented from
escaping by Papalier having intercepted her passage to the entrance.
Her eyes glowed with delight on the appearance of Jacques, to whom she
immediately addressed herself.
"I will not go with him--I will not go with him to Paris, to see his
young ladies. He shall not take care of me. I will take care of
myself. I will drown myself sooner than go with him. I do not care
what becomes of me, but I will not go."
"Yes, you will care what becomes of you, Therese, because your own
people care," said Jacques. "I will protect you. If you will be my
wife, no white shall molest you again."
"Be your wife!"
"Yes. I love the blacks; and none so much as those whom the whites have
oppressed--no one so much as you. If you will be my wife, we will--"
Here, remembering the presence of a white, Jacques explained to Therese
in the negro language (which she understood, though she always spoke
French), the new hopes which had arisen for the blacks, and his own
intention of following Toussaint, to make him a chief. He concluded in
good French, smiling maliciously at Papalier as he spoke--
"You will come with me now to the priest, and be my wife."
"I will," replied Therese, calmly.
"Go," said Papalier. "You have my leave. I am thus honourably released
from the care of you till times shall change. I am glad that you will
not remain unprotected, at least."
"Unprotected!" exclaimed Therese, as she threw on the Spanish mantle
which she was now accustomed to wear abroad. "Unprotected! And what
has your protection been?"
"Very kind, my dear, I am sure. I have spent on your education money
which I should be very glad of now. When people flatter you, Therese
(as they will do; for there is not a negress in all the island to
compare with you),--remember who made you a lady. You will promise me
that much, Therese, at parting?"
"Remember who made me a lady!--I have forgotten too long who made me a
woman," said Therese, devoutly upraising her eyes. "In serving Him and
loving my husband, I will strive to forget you."
"All alike!" muttered Papalier, as the pair went out. "This is what one
may expect from negroes, as the General will leant when he has had
enough to do with them. They are all alike."
This great event in the life of Jacques Dessalines did not delay his
proceedings for more than half-an-hour. Noon was but just past, when he
led forth his wife from the presence of the priest, mounted her on his
own horse before his tent, and sent her forward under the escort of his
personal servant, promising to overtake her almost as soon as she should
have crossed the river. When she was gone, he sent the word through the
negro soldiery, who gathered round him almost to a man, and with the
quietness which became their superior force. Jean Francais and Biasson
were left with scarcely twenty followers each; and those few would do
nothing. The whites felt themselves powerless amidst the noonday heats,
and opposed to threefold numbers: and their officers found that nothing
was to be done but to allow them to look on quietly, while Jacques led
away his little army, with loud music and a streaming white flag. A few
horsemen led the van, and closed in the rear. The rest marched, as if
on a holiday trip, now singing to the music of the band, and now making
the hills ring again with the name of Toussaint Breda.
As General Hermona, entirely indisposed for his siesta, watched the
march through his glass from the entrance of his tent, while the notes
of the wind-instruments swelled and died away in the still air, one of
his aides was overheard by him to say to another--
"The General has probably changed his opinion since he said to you this
morning, of Toussaint Breda, that God could not visit a soul more pure.
We have all had to change our minds rather more rapidly than suits such
a warm climate."
"You may have changed your opinions since the sun rose, gentlemen," said
Hermona; "but I am not sure that I have."
"How! Is it possible? We do not understand you, my lord."
"Do you suppose that you understand him? Have we been of a degraded
race, slaves, and suddenly offered restoration to full manhood and
citizenship? How otherwise can we understand this man? I do not
profess to do so."
"You think well of him, my lord?"
"I am so disposed. Time, however, will show. He has gone away
magnanimously enough, alone, and believing, I am confident, from what
Father Laxabon tells me, that his career is closed; but I rather think
we shall hear more of him."
"How these people revel in music!" observed one of the staff. "How they
are pouring it forth now!"
"And not without reason, surely," said Hermona. "It is their exodus
that we are watching."