"What to do!" said L'Ouverture to Christophe, as they entered his
apartment at Le Dondon. "What to do? Everything, this year and for the
future, may depend on what we decide on for our next step. And we must
decide before we leave this room, say your thoughts, Henri."
"I am for a truce."
"I am for a retreat in the mountains. Now for our reasons! Why do you
desire a truce?"
"Because I see that Leclerc so earnestly wishes it, that I am confident
we may make good terms, for the interval of waiting till we recover
altogether our power, our territory, and our people. Leclerc will
revoke our outlawry. That done, you will be the virtual rider of our
people till August; after which no foes will be left upon our soil.
What have you to say against this?"
"That it is yielding, unnecessarily and fatally, to the invaders. Where
are our censures of Clerveaux and Maurepas, if we, too, yield to
Leclerc, and make terms with him?"
"Every one of our people will understand the difference in the cases.
Every one of them sees the difference between falling at the feet of
Leclerc, like Clerveaux; or joining him on the very field on which you
were about to oppose him, like Maurepas; and making a truce, for a short
interval, when you are almost destitute of ammunition, and the enemy so
exhausted with the heats as to decline coming into the field; while, at
the same time, fresh troops are pouring in upon the coast, in such
numbers as to prevent your regaining your independence by remaining in
arms. If every man of the negroes has not wit enough to understand this
for himself, who is better able than you to inform them of whatsoever
you desire them to know? Be assured, Toussaint, powerful as your
influence is this day among our people, it will be more so when you are
no longer an outlaw. It is worth a large sacrifice of our feelings to
have our outlawry revoked."
"Have you more reasons to give for accepting a truce; or, as the French
understand it, a peace?"
"Let me first hear your reasons for a retreat in the mountains."
"A retreat in the mountains is the more honest proceeding of the two,
Henri. If we make terms with the French, it will be knowing that that
which goes by the name of peace is no more than a truce till August."
"And will not they know that as well as we? Is it necessary to tell the
whites, at this day, that they are liable to the fever in the heats, and
that any army, however glorious in its strength previously, becomes a
skeleton at that season? This is a matter that is perfectly understood
by all the parties."
"We must look forward, Henri, to the days to come, when August itself is
past. The influence of myself or my successor will be injured by my
having, even apparently, yielded to the invaders. My power over our
people's minds will be immeasurably greater, if I shall have
consistently refused to tolerate the foe, from the moment of their first
hostile act to the end of the struggle. Am I not right?"
"That character of consistency will be purchased at a price too dear;--
at the cost of your characteristic of mercy, Toussaint--of reverence for
human life. You will be ranked with Dessalines, if you keep up, for
four months, the disturbance and devastation of war, when every one
knows that your end will be as certainly gained after these four months
have been spent in peace. What a grief it would be to see you changed
in all eyes from the adored L'Ouverture to Toussaint the bandit! Pardon
my freedom."
"I required it of you, my friend; so do not speak of pardon. We are
agreed that the moral influence of my conduct is the main consideration,
as the destruction of the French army is certain, sooner or later--our
independence secure, if we so will it. If we remain in the mountains,
cutting off in detail the grasp which France shall attempt to lay on any
part of our territory or our system; training our people, meantime, for
another campaign, if France should attempt another; replenishing
gradually our stores with perpetual small captures from the enemy,
allowing them no asylum, discountenancing their presence, in every
possible way--we shall be taking the shortest, and therefore the most
merciful method of convincing the French and the blacks at once that
their empire here is at an end, and slavery henceforth impossible for
the negroes of Saint Domingo. But, if I make a peace or truce, how dim
and perplexed will be the impression of my conduct! I cannot hold
office, civil or military, under the French. Henri, you would not have
me do so!"
"Certainly not. Till August, retire to your estate, that every office
in the colony may thereafter be in your hand."
"If I co-operate with the French, even in the faintest appearance, my
moral influence will be all on their side, and a second year of warfare
will find us farther from peace or independence than the first. If I
act, more or less, for the blacks, Leclerc will send me to France as a
traitor. If I do nothing, neither party will believe in my doing
nothing: each will suspect me of secret dealings with the other. It is
also true that I cannot, if I would, be inoperative. Every glance of my
eye, every word of my lips, in my own piazza at Pongaudin, would be made
to bear its interpretation, and go to disturb the single and distinct
image which I now stand before every eye and in every mind."
"I do not agree with you," said Henri. "While the image of August is
distinct in the minds of the Saint Domingo people, it will keep your
influence single and intelligible to them. As for what the French
think, that is their own affair. They have the means of knowledge. Let
them use them. There is one fact which no one can misunderstand, the
while--that after the defections under which you have suffered, and
under your known want of military stores, an incursive war from the
mountains appears ferocious--both revengeful and cruel--when every one
knows that time will render it unnecessary."
"These defections do not discourage me as they do you, Henri. Full one
third of my forces are faithful--are proved so by trial. These, with
the goodness of our cause, are enough for my hopes--almost for my
desires. There is no ferocity, but rather mercy, in hastening on the
day of our independence and peace, by using a force so respectable--so
honoured, as this tried remnant of my army."
"You reckon fallaciously, Toussaint. You include my troops in the force
you speak of."
"Henri!" exclaimed L'Ouverture, stopping in his walk up the apartment;
"it cannot be that you will desert me. No, no! forgive me that the
words passed my lips!"
"Never will I desert you or our cause, Toussaint. Never will I intermit
my enmity to our invaders; never will I live for any other object than
the liberties of our people. But the time may be come for us to pursue
our common object by different paths. I cannot go and play the bandit
in the mountains."
"Why did you not call me a bandit when I was at the Plateaux?"
"Because you were then waging an honourable war. War, not peace, was
then beckoning you on to freedom. A state of voluntary outlawry, a
practice of needless ravage, will make a different man of you. Say no
more of it, Toussaint: I cannot be lieutenant to--Do not make me utter
the word."
"You have always hitherto obeyed me, Henri."
"I have; and when _we_ are in a state of war, I will obey you again. Do
not class me with La Plume and Clerveaux--or, rather, do, if you will,
and when August is past I will prove to you the difference."
"Do not you see, Henri, that you not only cease to aid me at a great
crisis but that you put a force upon me?"
"I cannot help it; I must do so, rather than go and be a butcher in the
mornes with Dessalines."
"Say with me, too: call me a butcher, too! After the long years that
you have known my heart, call me a butcher too."
"Let us talk sense, Toussaint: this is no time for trifling. After
August, I shall join you again--to fight, if it be necessary: but I hope
it will not."
"Not if heaven strengthens me to do my work without you, Christophe.
After the fever, it is much for the sick to walk: we do not expect the
dead to rise."
"When I join you, after August," resumed Christophe, "whether for the
labours of war or peace, you, and perhaps even Jacques, will wish that
your hands were as clean from blood as mine. Your thought, Toussaint!--
tell me your thought. If--"
"I was thinking that you _will_ join us, Henri. You _will_ labour till
our great work is done. You may err; and you may injure our cause by
your error; but you will never be seduced from the rectitude of your own
intentions. That is what I was thinking. I would fain keep my judgment
of you undisturbed by a grieving heart."
"You are more than generous, Toussaint: you are just. I was neither.
Pardon me. But I am unhappy--I am wretched that you are about to
forfeit your greatness, when--Oh, Toussaint! nothing should ever grieve
me again, if we could but agree to-day--if I could but see you retire,
with your wonted magnanimity, to Pongaudin, there, with your wonted
piety, to await the leadings from above. Where is your wonted faith,
that you do not see them now, through the clouds that are about us?"
"I cannot but see them now," said Toussaint, sighing; "and to see is to
follow. If you are wholly resolved to make a truce for yourself and
your division--"
"I am wholly resolved to do so."
"Then you compel me to do the same. Without you, I have not force
sufficient to maintain an effectual resistance."
"Thank God! then we shall see you again L'Ouverture, and no longer
Toussaint, the outlaw. You will--"
"Hear me, Henri! You put this constraint upon me. What are you
prepared to do, if the French prove treacherous, after our peace is
made?"
"To drive them into the sea, to be sure. You do not suppose I shall
regard them as friends the more for making a truce with them! We will
keep our eyes upon them. We will preserve an understanding with the
whole island, as to the vigilance which the blacks must exercise, day
and night, over their invaders. The first treacherous thought in
Leclerc's mind is a breach of the truce; and dearly shall he rue it."
"This is all well-planned, Henri. If the cunning of Leclerc proves
deeper than yours--"
"Say ours, Toussaint."
"No. I have no part in this arrangement. I act under your compulsion,
and under my own protest; as I require of you, Henri, to remember. If
we are not deep enough, vigilant enough, active enough, for Leclerc and
his council--if he injures us before August, and Bonaparte ordains a
second campaign after it, are you ready to endure the responsibility of
whatever may befall?"
"I am."
"Have you looked well forward into the future, and detected every
mischief that may arise from our present temporising, and resolved that
it was a less evil than losing the rest of this season, putting a
compulsion upon your best friend, and fettering the deliverer of your
people?"
"I have so looked forward--repudiating the charge of undutiful
compulsion. I act for myself, and those under my command."
"Virtually compelling me to act with you, by reducing me from being the
General of an army to be the leader of a troop; and by exposing our
cause to the peril--the greatest of all--of a declared division between
you and me. I yield, Christophe; but what I am going to do, I do under
protest. Order in the French prisoners."
"Yet one moment," said Henri. "Let me reason with you a little further.
Be satisfied of the goodness of the act before you do it."
"I do not need satisfaction on that. I do not quarrel with the terms we
are to make. I do not protest against any of the provisions of the
treaty. I protest against the necessity of treating. Summon the
prisoners."
"Can you," said Christophe, still delaying, "can you improve upon the
terms proposed? Can the conditions be altered, so as to give more
satisfaction to your superior foresight? I would not use flattering
terms at this moment, Toussaint; you know I would not. But your
sagacity is greater than mine, or any one's. I distrust myself about
the terms of the treaty, I assure you."
"About anything more than the mere terms of the treaty?" asked
Toussaint, again stopping in his walk.
"About the conditions--and about the conditions only."
"Your self-distrust is misplaced, and comes too late. Order the
prisoners to be brought in."
As Sabes and Martin entered, L'Ouverture and Christophe renewed, by a
glance, their agreement to speak and act with the utmost apparent
sameness of views and intentions. It was but a poor substitute for the
real coincidence which had always hitherto existed; but it was all that
was now possible.
"I am going to send you back to your Captain-General, gentlemen," said
Toussaint.
"Not without apology, I trust," said Sabes, "for having subjected to
such treatment as we have undergone, messengers sent to parley--bearing
actually the necessary credentials from the Captain-General. For nine
weeks have my companion and I been dragged from place to place, wherever
it suited your purposes to go, in perpetual fear for our lives."
"I am sorry you have trembled for your lives, gentlemen," replied
Toussaint. "It was an unnecessary suffering, as I gave you my word, on
your capture, that your persons were safe. Considering that you were
found crouching among the ferns, within hearing of my private
conversation with my son respecting the affairs of the war, I think your
complaints of your detention unreasonable; and I have no apology to
make, on that ground, either to yourselves or your commander. I cannot
hear another word of complaint, gentlemen. You know well that by any
general in Europe you would, under similar circumstances, have been
hanged as spies. Now to public business. I am about to send you to
General Leclerc, with proposals from General Christophe and myself to
bring this painful war to an end, according to the desire of the heads
of both armies. We all know such to be the wish of the
Captain-General."
"No doubt. It was never his desire, nor that of any true Frenchman,"
said Sabes, "to be at war on the soil of this colony. You alone,
General Toussaint, are responsible for the loss of lives, and all the
other miseries which it has occasioned."
"How so? Let him say on, Lieutenant Martin. No one suffers by speaking
his thoughts to me, be they what they may. On what consideration is it
possible to impute this war to me?"
"It would never have broken out if you had not despised the authority,
and thrown off the control, of the mother-country. This view cannot be
new to you, General Toussaint," continued Sabes, on seeing the look of
amazement with which L'Ouverture turned to Christophe.
"Indeed it is," replied Toussaint. "The charge is as unexpected as it
is untrue. You, sir," he said, appealing to Lieutenant Martin, "are a
naval officer. Tell me how you would act in such a case as this.
Suppose you commanded a vessel of the state, authorised and approved in
your office? suppose another officer came--without notice, without your
having heard a word of complaint--and leaped upon your deck, with a crew
double the number of your own, striking down and fettering your men. If
you resisted their violence in such a case, successfully or
unsuccessfully, would you admit that you were the cause of the
struggle--that you despised the government under which you held your
command--that you threw off the control of your superiors?"
There was a pause.
"Such is my case," said Toussaint; "and thus you must represent it, if
you be men of honour. The purport of my letter to the Captain-General
(which will be ready by the time you are prepared for your journey), is
to declare the willingness of General Christophe and myself to
negotiate, as the continuation of the war, under the circumstances which
have arisen, appears to be without object. The terms which we require,
and which it is supposed General Leclerc will agree to, are an amnesty
for all who have ever fought, or otherwise acted, under our command; and
the preservation of the rank of all black officers, civil and military.
My friend Christophe and I will retire to our estates, to pray for the
peace and welfare of the colony--the peace and welfare which have,
notwithstanding our prayers, been so unhappily broken up. Gentlemen,
there can be little doubt that the Captain-General will agree to these
terms of pacification."
"We cannot answer for his replies," said Martin. "Our representations
shall be faithful."
"I doubt it not," said Toussaint, "after experiencing your companion's
courage and fidelity in rebuke; for which, though he is mistaken in
fact, I honour him. Nor can I doubt the readiness of the
Captain-General to treat with us on the terms I shall propose; for he
must know that I shall always, among my native fastnesses, be strong to
burn, ravage, and destroy. He must know, that though my negroes may be
conquered, they will never more be subdued; and that, entrenched in the
mornes, they can always effectually prevent an unfriendly settlement of
the island. He must know that I am open to generous treatment; but
otherwise ready and able to sell dearly a life which has done our
country some service."
The French officers assented; but waited, as if to hear something more,
besides Christophe's declaration, for his own part, of agreement in what
L'Ouverture had said.
Sabes at length spoke, not without another cautionary sign from his
companion.
"Your generous frankness, General Toussaint," said he, "induces me to
remind you of one more duty which, in case of the desired pacification,
you will owe to the Captain-General. You will hold yourself indebted to
France for all such treasure as, in an hour of alarm, you may have
chosen to conceal."
"What does this mean?" said Toussaint. "General Christophe, do you know
of any public treasure being concealed in any part of the island?"
"None," said Christophe, "public or private."
"Nor do I. You hear, gentlemen."
"You forget, General Toussaint, what we heard on the occasion of our
capture."
"You forget your own words to us," said Lieutenant Martin--"that we had
seen and heard too much for you to let us go."
"I remember my words perfectly; and that they referred to my choice of a
post in the mornes, and a retreat for my family--affairs long since made
public enough. What else do you suppose you saw and heard? If I spoke
of depositing my treasures in the mornes, I was doubtless speaking of my
household. Did you understand me to mean gold and silver? What was it
that you suppose you saw and heard?"
"We saw new-made graves, and the tools that dug them, after having heard
shots."
"You are welcome to dig upon the Plateaux, and to take whatever treasure
you may find. You will find only the bones of the brave who fell in
attacking and defending the post."
"And of those who, being there, can tell no tales. You forget that we
heard their death-shots before we saw their graves. The time is come
for you to tell the secret that you buried with them."
Christophe rarely laughed; but he laughed now.
"They believe," said he--"apparently they believe--that you hid treasure
in the morne, and then shot and buried the servants employed."
"We do," said the officers, gravely.
"Were you really about to carry this story to the Captain-general?"
asked Toussaint, smiling. "Tell him that the wealth of the colony,
sufficient for the desires of its inhabitants, is dispersed through all
its dwellings, to be enjoyed--not hidden by avarice, and sealed with
blood."
"We are too well informed," said Sabes, "concerning the wealth and
splendour of the colony to believe that any part of its treasure has met
our eyes that can be concealed. Duty to France now requires that she
should be put in possession of the whole wealth of the island."
"Let France cultivate an honourable peace," said Toussaint, "and her
authorities will assuredly see the wealth of the colony spread over all
its fields, and amassed in every harbour. We can then present an
overflowing public treasury. That is all I have to offer: and it ought
to be enough."
Sabes did not press the point further, because he saw it would be
useless. But he and his companion were more and more persuaded of the
truth of their notion of what they had seen and heard, the more they
recalled the tales told at the Court of France of the plate, the gems,
the bullion and coin, and the personal ornaments which abounded, even in
the prosperous days of the old emigrants. Every one knew, too, that the
colony had been more prosperous than ever since. It is not known by
whom the amount of the hidden treasure was, at length, fixed at
thirty-two millions of francs. Sabes and Martin simply told their story
and their ideas to Leclerc, adding the information that Toussaint
L'Ouverture was an adept in dissimulation; that they had as nearly as
possible been deprived of this piece of insight, by the apparent
frankness and candour of his manners; and that, but for the boldness of
Sabes in pressing the affair of the buried treasure, they should
actually have quitted the negro chief, after an occasional intercourse
of nine weeks, without any knowledge of that power of dissimulation
which had been formerly attributed to him by those who, it now appeared,
knew him well, and which must be the guiding fact in all the
Captain-General's dealings with him. His cunning must be met by all the
cunning that Leclerc's united council could muster, or destruction would
lurk under the pretended pacification. Accordingly, the whole of
Leclerc's policy henceforth proceeded on the supposed fact of Toussaint
L'Ouverture being the prince of dissemblers.