_Cape Francois._
What a change has taken place here since my last letter was written!
I mentioned that there was to be a grand review, and I also mentioned
that the confidence General Le Clerc placed in the negroes was highly
blamed, and justly, as he has found to his cost.
On the day of the review, when the troops of the line and the guarde
nationale were assembled on the field, a plot was discovered, which
had been formed by the negroes in the town, to seize the arsenal and
to point the cannon of a fort, which overlooked the place of review,
on the troops; whilst Clairvaux, the mulatto general, who commanded
the advanced posts, was to join the negroes of the plain, overpower
the guards, and entering the town, complete the destruction of the
white inhabitants. The first part of the plot was discovered and
defeated. But Clairvaux made good his escape, and in the evening
attacked the post General Le Clerc had so imprudently confided to him.
The consternation was terrible. The guarde nationale, composed chiefly
of Creoles, did wonders. The American captains and sailors volunteered
their services; they fought bravely, and many of them perished. The
negroes were repulsed; but if they gained no ground they lost none,
and they occupy at present the same posts as before. The pusillanimous
General Le Clerc, shrinking from danger of which his own imprudence
had been the cause, thought only of saving himself. He sent his plate
and valuable effects on board the admiral's vessel, and was preparing
to embark secretly with his suite, but the brave admiral La Touche de
Treville sent him word that he would fire with more pleasure on those
who abandoned the town, than on those who attacked it.
The ensuing morning presented a dreadful spectacle. Nothing was heard
but the groans of the wounded, who were carried through the streets
to their homes, and the cries of the women for their friends who were
slain.
The general, shut up in his house, would see nobody; ashamed of the
weakness which had led to this disastrous event, and of the want of
courage he had betrayed: a fever seized him and he died in three days.
Madame Le Clerc, who had not loved him whilst living, mourned his death
like the Ephesian matron, cut off her hair, which was very beautiful,
to put it in his coffin; refused all sustenance and all public
consolation.
General Rochambeau, who is at Port au Prince, has been sent for by the
inhabitants of the Cape to take the command. Much good is expected from
the change, he is said to be a brave officer and an excellent man.
Monsieur D'Or is in the interim Captain General, and unites in himself
the three principal places in the government: Prefect Colonial,
Ordonnateur, and General in Chief.
All this bustle would be delightful if it was not attended with such
melancholy consequences. It keeps us from petrifying, of which I was in
danger.
I have become acquainted with some Creole ladies who, having staid in
the Island during the revolution, relate their sufferings in a manner
which harrows up the soul; and dwell on the recollection of their long
lost happiness with melancholy delight. St. Domingo was formerly a
garden. Every inhabitant lived on his estate like a Sovereign ruling
his slaves with despotic sway, enjoying all that luxury could invent,
or fortune procure.
The pleasures of the table were carried to the last degree of
refinement. Gaming knew no bounds, and libertinism, called love, was
without restraint. The Creole is generous hospitable, magnificent,
but vain, inconstant, and incapable of serious application; and in
this abode of pleasure and luxurious ease vices have reigned at which
humanity must shudder. The jealousy of the women was often terrible in
its consequences. One lady, who had a beautiful negro girl continually
about her person, thought she saw some symptoms of _tendresse_ in the
eyes of her husband, and all the furies of jealousy seized her soul.
She ordered one of her slaves to cut off the head of the unfortunate
victim, which was instantly done. At dinner her husband said he
felt no disposition to eat, to which his wife, with the air of a
demon, replied, perhaps I can give you something that will excite
your appetite; it has at least had that effect before. She rose and
drew from a closet the head of Coomba. The husband, shocked beyond
expression, left the house and sailed immediately for France, in order
never again to behold such a monster.
Many similar anecdotes have been related by my Creole friends; but
one of them, after having excited my warmest sympathy, made me laugh
heartily in the midst of my tears. She told me that her husband was
stabbed in her arms by a slave whom he had always treated as his
brother; that she had seen her children killed, and her house burned,
but had been herself preserved by a faithful slave, and conducted,
after incredible sufferings, and through innumerable dangers to the
Cape. The same slave, she added, and the idea seemed to console her for
every other loss, saved all my madrass handkerchiefs.
The Creole ladies have an air of voluptuous languor which renders
them extremely interesting. Their eyes, their teeth, and their hair
are remarkably beautiful, and they have acquired from the habit of
commanding their slaves, an air of dignity which adds to their charms.
Almost too indolent to pronounce their words they speak with a drawling
accent that is very agreeable: but since they have been roused by the
pressure of misfortune many of them have displayed talents and found
resources in the energy of their own minds which it would have been
supposed impossible for them to possess.
They have naturally a taste for music; dance with a lightness, a grace,
an elegance peculiar to themselves, and those who, having been educated
in France, unite the French vivacity to the Creole sweetness, are the
most irresistible creatures that the imagination can conceive. In the
ordinary intercourse of life they are delightful; but if I wanted a
friend on any extraordinary occasion I would not venture to rely on
their stability.