ETBRARY 

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 



A Tale of San Domingo, 



BY 

E. W. GILLIAM, M.D. 



BALTIMORE: 

JOHN MURPHY & CO., 
1890. 



LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
n A\/TC 



COPYRIGHT, 1890, BY E. W. GILLIAM, M. D. 



TO 

THOMAS L. REESE, 

THE HONEST MEBCHANT, THE DUTIFUL SON, THE JUDICIOUS FRIEND, 

THIS FIRST ESSAY AT FICTION, 

CARRIED ON TO COMPLETION UNDER HIS ENCOURAGEMENT, 
IS DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS 



PAOX. 

CHAPTER I. Introduction, - 1 

II. Cape Francis, 20 

III. La Plaine du Nord, - - 35 

IV. A Discussion, .... 56 

V. The "Crop Over," - - 93 

VI. The Outbreak, 110 

VII. The Battle, - 127 

VIII. Interceding, - 148 

IX. Vain Pleading, - - 171 

X. A Thoughtful Ride, 196 

XI. The Interview, - - ' 223 

XII. The Court-martial, 232 

XIII. The Cage, - 251 

XIV. Jacque, 258 

XV. The Flight, - 268 

XVI. On the Massacre, - 284 

XVII. Cape Fra^ois Again, - 294 

XVIII. Conclusion, - - - '- - 304 



PREFACE. 



In preparing, for one of the periodicals, an article 
entitled " The African Problem," the author was led to 
examine the history of San Domingo which island, since 
the slave insurrection of 1791, has been controlled by 
the blacks ; and, in certain incidents connected with that 
terrible outbreak, he found material which, he thought, 
would lay the foundation for a readable story. The 
story, therefore, was begun, and the result is in the fol 
lowing pages. 

The historical portions are authentic, with the excep 
tion of a single anachronism (so to call it). It was 
necessary to place the scene of the story at the beginning 
of the outbreak. The author further desired to introduce 
Jean Jacque Dessalines. Since this negro chieftain, how 
ever, does not appear in history till several years later, 
the author has taken the liberty of representing Paul 
Dessalines as the twin brother of Jean and the fomenter 
of the insurrection, and of transferring to the former the 

well known character of the latter. 

vii 



viii Preface. 

The "African" discussion between Colonel Tourner 
and M. Tardiffe fairly represents the views on that sub 
ject as held by the French Jacobins on the one hand, and 
the San Domingo planters on the other. 

The introductory chapter first appeared as an historical 
article in The Magazine of American History, under the 
title of " The French Colony of San Domingo : Its Rise 
and Fall." The story, with some cutting down, was 
afterwards published serially in The Catholic World. 
Those who have read the serial will see in the book form 
substantial additions. 

Among the works on the West Indies in general and 
San Domingo in particular, the author is especially 
indebted to Franklin's volumes and Rainsford's elabo 
rate history. 



179UH ZTale of San 




CHAPTER I. 
INTRODUCTION. 

AN Domingo, in natural advantages, 
is unsurpassed. Three mountain 
ranges, of moderate elevation, tra 
versing its entire length, are a guarantee for 
attractive scenery and well-watered land. The 
heat is tempered by the trade winds. The 
climate is salubrious, save along the coast. 
Splendid flowering plants adorn the plains. 
Majestic forests of pine, mahogany of the finest 
kind, the most valuable dye and cabinet woods, 
clothe the mountain sides. The soil is one of 
exceeding fertility, the low-lying districts yield- 

1 



2 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

ing in profusion the best varieties of tropical 
growths, while the productions of temperate 
regions thrive on the elevated slopes. In short, 
it is excelled by no other portion of the world. 
In its day it was called " The Garden of the 
West Indies," "The Queen of the Antilles;," 
and it was the boast of Columbus, when its 
native richness and beauty burst upon him, 
that he had found the original seat of Paradise. 

Columbus discovered this turtle-shaped island 
December 6, 1492, and at Isabella, on the 
northern coast, established the first Spanish 
colony. The city of San Domingo was founded, 
1496, by the brother of the renowned admiral. 
For half a century these settlements received 
marked attention from the mother country, and 
rose to great prosperity. But, as other parts 
of America were discovered, the inhabitants 
were drawn off; and the indigenes having been 
exterminated by excessive work and general 
ill-usage, the island, for a period, declined. 

In 1789 its sovereignty was divided between 
France and Spain. The French colony occupied 
the western portion of the island, an irregular 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 3 

north-and-south line separating it from Spanish 
territory. The area of this colony was ten 
thousand square miles, or one-third of the 
whole, being somewhat larger than the State of 
Vermont. It embraced three provinces, north 
ern, southern, and western, presided over by a 
governor-general. Cape Frangois, in the north 
ern province, was the metropolis, and the Paris 
of the Western World. At the above date 
French San Domingo had reached a remark 
able state of prosperity and splendor. 

The utmost effort had been made to stimulate 
and improve agriculture, and on every hand 
the teeming colony smiled with successful in 
dustry. Spread over it were a thousand sugar 
plantations, and three thousand -of coffee, not to 
mention the cultivation of indigo, cacao, cotton, 
etc., and the splendid tropical fruits yielded to 
trivial care. The narrow but rich plain of Cul 
de Sac itself contained one hundred and fifty 
sugar plantations, while the rising slopes, up to 
the Spanish lines, were clothed with coffee farms, 
that appeared from the hill-crests as so many 
thickets. In 1789 the colony laded, for France 



4 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

alone, four hundred vessels. It supplied Europe 
with half of its sugar. Its exports were valued 
at $28,000,000. Numerous roads, spacious and 
most beautifully kept, intersected the country in 
all directions. The planters lived in j ovial splen 
dor, in the loveliest homes in the world. From 
1750 to 1789 (the beginning of revolutionary 
activity) the growth of the colony was marvel 
ous, at the latter date reaching a height superior 
to all other colonial possessions. 

The inhabitants were whites, mulattoes or 
people of color, and negro slaves. The rise of 
each is written in dark lines. 

In 1630 a small body of French and English, 
who had established themselves on St. Chris 
topher, one of the Windward islands, were ruth 
lessly driven out by the Spaniards. The greater 
part found refuge in Tortuga, a small island 
near the northwest coast of San Domingo, where 
they increased rapidly, and as buccaneers, be 
came the terror of the neighboring seas. Upon 
the commerce of the Spaniards, their special ene 
mies, they took the amplest revenge. Predatory 
excursions soon gave them a footing on the 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 5 

western coast of San Domingo. Eventually, 
the English buccaneers settled in Jamaica. The 
French section continued to gain ground in San 
Domingo, where gradually they left off piracy, 
and became planters. The French government 
now began to extend its care. Governors were 
appointed. The planters were increased by 
immigrants from the mother country. Wives 
were sent out. Negro slaves were taken in 
raids upon Spanish territory. An incursion to 
Jamaica in 1694 secured two thousand, and a 
notable impulse was given to the cultivation 
of sugar. The colony, in 1697, had greatly 
developed in numbers and importance, and 
the Spaniards, unable to cope with France, 
by the treaty of Ryswick formally ceded to 
the latter country the western portion of the 
island. 

In 1789 the whites were known as Europeans 
and as Creoles, between whom great jealousies 
existed. The former, generally, were public 
functionaries, military men, or merchants 
lived chiefly in the towns assumed an air of 
superiority, and exercised much petty tyranny. 



6 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

The Creoles or planters considered themselves 
the heirs of the soil were excessively imperious 
and voluptuous, impatient of restraint, jealous 
of wealth and honor, unbounded in self-indul 
gence, yet hospitable and charitable. They 
commonly lived on the estates they cultivated, 
and resented disdainfully the assumed superi 
ority of the European. 

Of the mulattoes many were cultivated men, 
opulent and large slave-owners. Their charac 
ters often commanded respect, yet meanness of 
birth could not be forgotten. The whites looked 
down upon them contemptuously, and their 
condition, on the whole, was truly degrading. 
They were exposed to perpetual insult and 
humiliation were governed by a set of local 
laws applicable only to themselves on attain 
ing their majority they were compelled to serve 
three years in a kind of militia, to keep run 
away slaves in check were subject to a "cor 
vee" for the maintenance of the roads ex 
cluded from public employments and the liberal 
professions and not allowed to bear the names 
of their white fathers. Many had been highly 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 7 

educated in France, and possessed large estates, 
and the deprivation of political and personal 
rights was borne with a gathering and ominous 
sense of resentment. 

The circumstances connected with the intro 
duction of the negro slaves, to replace the 
exterminated indigenes, opens the blackest page 
in Spanish history. 

These indigenes as they appeared to Colum 
bus, before they had been broken and debased 
by the Spaniard's cruelty were an interesting 
race. Reliable accounts represent them as 
being of lighter color than the inhabitants of 
the neighboring islands, and generally superior 
singular in feature, but not disagreeable in 
aspect timid and gentle, in person not tall, but 
well-shaped and active, weak in body, incapable 
of much labor, short lived, and extremely frugal. 
They were guileless in their manners, possessed 
fair apprehensions, were remarkably obedient 
to their rulers, humble, patient, submissive, 
with a love for quietude, and dislike for dis 
putes. They exercised a simple agriculture 
and had made some progress in the arts of 



8 1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

ornament and of utility, displaying ingenuity 
in working beaten gold, and in the manufacture 
of a plain cotton cloth and earthern pitchers. 
In a word, they occupied a middle state between 
savage life and polished society an unoffend 
ing, peaceable and amiable race. Their char 
acter was in keeping with the native fauna of 
the island, which contained no beast of prey, 
and no wild animal larger than a hare. 

The bold bearing of the Spaniards, their 
great size and strength, and splendid aspect in 
shining armor and on caparisoned horses, pro 
duced in the minds of the simple islanders a 
reverential awe. They regarded them as hav 
ing descended from the heavens, and gave them 
the honor due to superior beings. But the 
Spaniards were ravening wolves ; and under a 
course of most merciless treatment the history 
of the indigenes is pitiful, till it ends with their 
extinction fifty years on. 

Pioneer colonists are commonly reckless ad 
venturers, without money or character. On 
his second voyage, to colonize Hispaniola, Co 
lumbus, good and great as he was, committed 



1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 9 

the profound mistake of taking with him, for 
want of better material to complete his number, 
a lot of convicted criminals, who, let loose 
among the natives, made themselves free with 
their wives and property, and turned the colony 
into a hell. 

The outrages became unbearable, even to 
this submissive people, and an unsuccessful 
attempt at resistance was followed by the impo 
sition of a yearly tribute. In lieu of tribute, 
a slavery presently succeeded unequaled for 
cruelty and destructiveness. Unprotected by 
the stronger physiques which the ordinary 
environments of an underling race are naturally 
fitted to secure, they fell an easy prey to the 
pitiless Spaniards, who exhausted against the 
defenseless creatures every advantage their 
manifold superiorities conferred. 

Under Governor- General Bobadilla, they 
were divided into classes, and distributed, like 
cattle, among the Spaniards, by fifties and hun 
dreds. The attempt of his successor, van do, 
to modify these distributions into Mrings, where 
by, for a certain sum and for a specified time, 



10 1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

the Indians were compelled to work for the 
Spaniards, only deepened their oppression. 
Payment was made a plea for multiplied exac 
tions. The character of the pitiless slavery 
advanced under Albuquerque and others, and 
the death of Isabella removed all check upon 
its rigors. The serious efforts of this amiable 
and illustrious princess in behalf of the politi 
cal as well as the religious interest of the 
indigenes had been frustrated by the cruelty of 
the Spaniards. Their merciless treatment had 
been studiously concealed from her. It re 
mained unknown till she lay upon her dying- 
bed, and deeply distressed the last hours of the 
pious Queen. 

Spanish cruelty had its root in avarice. 

Quid non mortalia pectora cogis 
Auri sacra fames f 

This grew so intense that the Indians came 
to believe that gold was the Spaniards' real 
God. Neglecting agriculture, they drove the 
natives to the mines, and there imposed tasks 
upon this feeble-bodied people that would have 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 11 

been excessive for a far hardier race. They 
were worked till they spat blood, and the milk 
dried up in the breasts of nursing women. 

Resistance offered at the outset proved utterly 
futile. On the Vega Real an army of a hundred 
thousand was dreadfully routed by a Spanish 
force but two hundred strong. 

Resorting now to starvation against their 
enemies whom they had observed, in contrast 
with their own frugal ways, as being immense 
eaters they pulled up their edible roots, sus 
pended agriculture, and fled to the mountains. 
The device recoiled against themselves. A 
third of the population perished ; and the lime 
stone caverns near the mountain summits still 
abound with the bones of the wretched fugitives 
who preferred death by starving to the intol 
erable tyranny of the Spaniards. 

Henceforth they hopelessly submitted, and 
sank into a sluggish, dazed condition, with a 
perfect hatred towards their oppressors and 
everything pertaining to them. Those about 
to die and exhorted to baptism, refused the rite 
with expressions of abhorrence for the Chris- 



12 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

tian's heaven, on being told that Spanish souls 
had gone thither. 

The Indians worked only under the spur of 
blows and ill-usage. No indignity, no wrong, 
no treachery was spared them. They almost 
lost the semblance of human beings; and to 
such intellectual blights some of the newly 
arrived priests hesitated to administer the sac 
raments. The Spaniards spurned those whom 
their oppression had driven towards idiotcy, 
and treated them as an inferior species of 
animals. Instances are mentioned (in a neigh 
boring colony) of Indian infants having been 
fed to hounds, and of a princess' son bartered 
for a cheese. 

Multitudes perished in the four chief mines 
multitudes disappeared from suicide, famine, 
fatigue, and superinduced disease. Laborers 
became scarce, and, to supply the want, the 
Spaniards visited one of the Bahamas, and, 
representing to the islanders that the spirits of 
their departed friends and ancestors were living 
happily in Hispaniola, entrapped, within a few 
years, forty thousand, and sent them to the 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 13 

mines. To close the dreadful recital: the 
Spaniards worked these mines so actively, that, 
at the end of fifty years, there remained not one 
hundred natives out of the one-and-a-half mil 
lion who happily inhabited the island upon its 
discovery by Columbus. It is a horrible story 
against Spain ; and from these infernal wrongs, 
has arisen the wrath of Grod to wither, to this 
clay, the Spanish settled portions of the New 
World. 

The inhuman treatment of the indigenes 
raised up advocates. The most notable was 
Las Casas. He thought it less cruel to work 
negroes. They had far greater powers of 
endurance, one negro being considered the 
equal of five Indians. To mitigate, therefore, 
the sufferings of the latter, as well as to sustain 
the colony now languishing for labor, the 
Emperor Charles V. adopted Las Casas' sug 
gestion, and granted to one of his Flemish 
favorites a patent for the yearly importation of 
four thousand. This privilege, sold to Genoese 
merchants, became the foundation of a regular 
trade for supplying the colony a trade that 



14 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

continued to increase throughout the whole 
archipelago, where the negroes multiplied with 
prodigious rapidity. It has been noticed as a 
remarkable historical fact, that the humane 
efforts of this noble-hearted priest should be so 
closely associated with the establishment in 
America of the African slave trade. 

In 1789 the colony contained '450,000 slaves 
the mulattoes and free blacks being 24,000 
the whites, 40,000. 

At this date it had reached a height of 
prosperity without parallel in the history of 
colonial possessions. Many of the proprietors, 
enormously rich (hence the phrase, as rich as a 
Creole) , lived half the year in Paris in the most 
sumptuous style, attended, as a special act of 
legislation allowed, by retinues of slaves 
passing the winters in their beautiful West 
India homes. Others resided permanently in 
France, and spent all their revenues abroad ; 
yet, so vast were the capabilities of the island, 
that, under a careful system of tillage which 
"wrested from a most fertile soil the most 
immense wealth," riches multiplied as if by 



1791 ^f Tale of San Domingo. 15 

magic. The private luxury and public gran 
deur of the colony astonished the traveler, and 
its accumulation of wealth was a constant 
source of surprise to the mother country. 

Unhappily, dissoluteness had advanced with 
equal strides, and the outward splendor rested 
on frail virtuous supports. Morally, the 
mulattoes appear to have been the superior 
class. The planters and negroes were alike 
depraved. The former were sybarites. Opu 
lent and dissipated, they had reached a state 
of sentiment and manners the most vitiated, 
and the slaves had caught the infection. If the 
master was proud and voluptuous, the slave 
was vicious and often riotous, and the punish 
ment frequently cruel and unnatural. 

Society, moreover, was throughout in a con 
dition of antagonisms, the creole slave regard 
ing with scorn the newly imported African ; 
the free mulatto disdaining the creole slave; 
while the whites looked down with contempt 
upon all, and were themselves divided by the 
wretched jealousies between planters and func 
tionaries. It was an atmosphere of suspicion 



16 1791^1 Tale of San Domingo. 

and ill-will, in which an evil construction was 
given to everything. No determinate princi 
ples guided the superior classes. Each passing 
event became a new occasion for discontent. 
In a society so circumstanced the revolutionary 
spirit agitating the mother country found ready 
entrance, and the dissolution of social order was 
apparently threatened. 

In the discussions in France (1787-88) that 
preceded the meeting of the States-General, 
each race became profoundly interested. The 
doctrine of "liberty, equality, and fraternity " 
was warmly indorsed by the whites yet for 
themselves alone. The mulattoes saw the 
opportunity for realizing political and social 
rights. The slave, too, became an interested 
listener, and began to feel the stirring of new 
aspirations. The latter, at the outset, remained 
quiet, though, as Rainsford observes, the efforts 
in their behalf by Lafayette, Mirabeau, and 
the Abbe Gregoire made their condition a 
prominent topic of conversation and regret in 
half the towns of Europe. 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 17 

The mulattoes, however, promptly insisted 
upon political equality ; and at once arose be 
tween them and the whites a bitter struggle, 
which the vacillating course of home legisla 
tion now favoring one party, now the other 
prolonged and greatly intensified. It was a 
most deplorable state of affairs, and tore the 
colony dreadfully. Both sides were in arms, 
and not infrequently in bloody encounters. 
There were collisions, and then settlings towards 
repose; then fresh aggravations and impend 
ing conflict, followed by recedings from the 
verge of war. 

Finally, May 15, 1791, the national assembly 
passed a decree warmly supported by Lafay 
ette, Condorcet, Gregoire, and other leaders 
granting to the "people of color" full political 
rights. The tidings reached San Domingo in 
June, and fell like a thunderbolt from a clear 
sky. It at once consolidated all parties among 
the whites against the mother country. The 
colonists had been dividing against themselves, 
as the sentiment of the national assembly de 
veloped towards the enfranchisement of the 
2 



18 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

colored races, some advocating one course 
others another. But race feeling is deeper than 
political feeling ; and the whites, in the pres 
ence of the enforced equality of the " bastard 
and scorned" mulatto, by a natural esprit de 
corps, became consolidated. The worst, too, 
was feared from the decree's effect upon the 
slaves, who had already grown noticeably delib 
erative and restless. In a frenzy of rage they 
determined to reject the civic oath. They forced 
the governor to suspend the operation of the 
decree, till they could appeal to France. In the 
northern provincial assembly a motion was 
made to raise the British flag. 

The mulattoes, alarmed, yet exasperated to 
the last degree, gathered in armed bodies. The 
sentiment prevailed that one or the other party 
must be exterminated. War seemed inevitable 
when the blacks (August 15), rising in vast 
numbers, suddenly appeared upon the scene, 
and within four days laid one-third of the 
northern province in utter ruin. 

The whites, in consternation, now promptly 
granted civil rights to the mulattoes, and these 



1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 19 

(generally slaveholders), turning against the 
blacks with all the zeal that the powerful inter 
ests of property inspire, peace appeared not 
improbable when the fatal legislation of the 
national assembly reached its climax. For, 
moved by the remonstrances of the planters' 
agents, who raised the cry that the colony was 
about to be lost, and ignorant of the black rising 
and the accord between whites and mulattoes, 
the assembly (September 24) repealed the de 
cree of May 15. The mulattoes could not be 
persuaded that the planters had not instigated 
the repeal lost all confidence in the whites 
threw themselves into the negro camp and a 
furious and fatal war ensued. 

Thus perished amid unparalleled scenes of 
uproar, butchery, and beastly outrage this 
splendid colony, founded in the cruelties of the 
Spaniard and the buccaneer. It was a day of 
blood for blood of vengeance for those wretched 
indigenes whose merciless slavery these blacks 
had been imported to bear. It is amid these 
scenes that the following narrative takes its 
rise. 




CHAPTER II. 
CAPE FRANCOIS. 

APE Francois, before its destruction 
by the revolted negroes, was a splen 
did city, the real capital of French 
St. Domingo. It was strikingly situated upon 
a small plain hollowed out from between two 
noble mountains (called Homes by the natives) 
that rose from the city's limits towards the west 
and the north, the latter ending abruptly upon 
the bay, and giving a strong site to Fort 
Picolet, whose guns commanded the entrance 
to the harbor. A narrow passage to the north 
west, and a broader one southward, between 
the Western Morne and the bay, led to the 
celebrated " Plaine du Nord," whose fertile ex 
panse was studded with thriving towns, smiling 
villages, and its far-famed coffee and sugar 
20 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 21 

plantations. Thirty well-built streets crossed 
each other at right angles ; public squares were 
numerous and attractive, and in its air of 
graceful wealth and elegance the Cape, as it 
was commonly called, rivalled the foremost 
cities of Europe. 

It was on an August evening, 1791, in a 
handsomely furnished room at the Hotel de 
Ville a fine stone structure on la rue St. Louis, 
and facing the Place de Clugni that Charles 
Pascal and his son Henry were conversing in 
earnest tones. The elder Pascal was dressed 
with scrupulous neatness, in the style prevail 
ing anterior to the Revolution: a square-cut 
and collarless coat, long-flapped waistcoat, stock 
ings gartered at the knee and beneath the 
breeches, which buttoned over them; low- 
quartered, square-toed shoes, with red heels 
and buckle. The hair was gathered in a queue, 
and a broad black ribbon, called a solitaire, 
encompassing the throat and fastened behind, 
completed the attire. He was a tall, spare, 
rather feeble-looking man, who had scarcely 
turned fifty, but one would have taken him to 



22 1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

be far older. A settled shade of care or grief 
lessened the effect of regular and clearly-cut 
features. His manner was grave and courteous, 
yet firm withal. 

A year before a victim to the uproar and 
terrors of the times Charles Pascal had lost 
a beloved wife, nee Beatty, from one of the 
Carolinas, whom he had met in early life, during 
a business visit to Baltimore. Recent pecuniary 
losses had all but wrecked an abundant fortune. 
The first inroad was an outlay as endorser for 
his brother, who by injudicious investments and 
mismanagement lost his wealth, and was now 
living in Jamaica, whither he had gone with 
the hope of rebuilding his fortune. About the 
same time an opportuuity offered to buy at 
advantage a valuable plantation, which, as ad 
joining his own, he had long 'desired, and his 
bank-balance was well-nigh exhausted in the 
purchase. He soon realized his mistake ; for 
the revolutionary spirit in France, extending to 
St. Domingo and embroiling the whites and 
mulattoes, had paralyzed trade and spread ruin 
through the colony. The planters were espe- 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 23 

cially affected. That the slaves should be 
indifferent to passing events was impossible; 
They had grown increasingly restless, insubor 
dinate, and idle, and agriculture, that before had 
proven enormously remunerative, was now con 
ducted at a loss. Under these circumstances 
plantation life had become exceedingly irksome 
to M. Pascal, when the confirmation of certain 
fears hastened a change he had been contem 
plating. Dismissing his salaried manager, and 
placing plantation affairs in the hands of his 
body-servant, Jacque Beatty, he closed his 
mansion, and had that morning domiciled him 
self at the Hotel de Ville. 

His companion was a well-proportioned young 
man of three- and-twenty, with light hair and 
clear gray eyes, inherited from his mother. 
Excepting the chin a feature so often deficient, 
but here perfect and an excellent set of teeth, 
his lineaments, taken singly, were not specially 
noticeable. The combination, however, was un 
usually attractive, and gave the impression of 
an amiable, intelligent, and resolute character. 
He had received in the best schools of Cape 



24 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

Francois a finished commercial education, de 
clining, in view of his parents' health and being 
an only child, an opportunity his father offered 
to study at the French capital. For some years 
he had been agent for Thomas Harrison, a 
wealthy Englishman, who conducted in Balti 
more a large trade in West India fruit. Since 
the outbreak of the revolutionary spirit his 
business had greatly declined, and Mr. Har 
rison, in appreciation of his efficient services, 
had been corresponding with him in reference 
to the transfer of the agency to Jamaica, and 
connecting with it a branch house for the sale 
of American goods. He had but recently re 
turned from an extended visit of inspection to 
Kingston, and it was a current on-dit that he 
was on the eve of removing thither. 

" You are doubtless surprised, Henry," said 
the elder Pascal as the former entered the apart 
ment in response to a note from his father, " at 
my being domiciled here, and without a line to 
you of my intention." 

" In truth I am," he replied, " though these 
are days of surprises." 



1791^ Tale of San Domingo. 25 

"Life at Sans Souci, Henry, had become a 
heavy drag." 

"I know that, sir, and have often advised 
your spending a portion of your time at the 
Cape." 

" I should probably have remained, however, 
had I not had grounds for apprehending an 
outbreak of the slaves." 

" An outbreak of the slaves ! " cried Henry 
Pascal with a mingled sense of astonishment 
and dread, for he knew his father possessed a 
cool, clear judgment, and was little controlled 
by idle alarms. " I trust, indeed, you are mis 
taken, sir." 

" I have such fears, Henry." 

" No such fear is felt here," quickly rejoined 
the son. 

" Ah ! Henry, the spirit of liberty is abroad, 
often, alas ! wild and irrational ; but its cry, for 
good or for evil, rings through the air. The 
Commons are seizing it in France ; the mulat- 
toes are struggling for it here; may not the 
slave, too, strike to be free ? " 



26 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

"Why, sir, I cannot but think and I ex 
press the common opinion that the negroes 
have been remarkably quiet under the extra 
ordinary provocations to excitement they have 
received for the past two years." 

"I have noticed a tendency to deliberate," 
replied the elder Pascal. 

"And what inference do you draw ? " 

" That deliberation among slaves is the pre 
lude to revolution. They are a vicious set, 
corrupted by their profligate, sybarite masters, 
and ready for anything." 

" Do you think," asked Henry Pascal reflec 
tively, " if a revolt were precipitated, it could 
possibly be successful ? " 

"Why not, Henry?" 

" Because a black rising would at once con 
solidate the whites and mulattoes ; and against 
the alliance what could the slaves effect, without 
wealth, education, or military means ? " 

" Upon the question of success I might say, 
Henry, that there is a point where mere num 
bers must outweigh the united force of wealth, 
intelligence, and prestige ; that the blacks pos- 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 27 

sess splendid physiques, are not deficient in 
personal courage, and stand nearly ten to one 
against whites and mulattoes combined." 

The elder Pascal had been speaking in a 
quiet manner, but at the same time in a manner 
so assured that his son could not avoid sus 
pecting that behind his calm utterances there 
was something which had not yet appeared. 
Pausing a moment, he said : 

" My dear father, this is a matter of startling 
import. Let me hear the precise grounds for 
the fear you have expressed." 

"They are briefly stated," he answered, 
counting off the arguments upon his fingers. 

" First : these days of uproar and change 
tempt to such a movement. Second : we have 
among us not a few recently imported Africans, 
who sigh for their savage freedom, and remem 
ber against us the wrongs done them, the 
kindred from whom they have been torn, and 
the horrors of the middle passage. Third and 
especially : the negroes are becoming convinced 
that the mulattoes will triumph in their strug 
gle for political rights, and fear the result upon 



28 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

themselves. Though apparently quiet, they 
have been on the alert and eager in their inqui 
ries, and are as conscious of the general course 
of affairs as you or I. They have leaders who 
keep them informed. They see that the senti 
ment of the National Assembly is becoming 
more and more Jacobin, and developing over 
whelmingly on the side of the mulattoes ; and 
that, with the whole power of France exerted 
to enforce the 15th of May decree, the mulattoes 
must win. The mulattoes are known to be 
hard masters, and with the enlargement of 
their civil rights the negroes fear their own lot 
will become more straitened." 

" I must say, sir, that these grounds appear 
to me largely speculative." 

" Have you seen, Henry, the Abbe Gregoire's 
letter, addressed to the people of color upon 
the passage of last May's decree?" 

" Yes, sir." 

" It distinctly declares," continued the elder 
Pascal, "that the logical sequence of that 
decree must be the ultimate liberty of the 
blacks." 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 29 

"But why not believe with the abbe," re 
joined Henry Pascal, " that emancipation will 
come by-and-by, and peacefully ? " 

" Never, Henry, never ! African slavery is 
essential to the best interests of the colony, and 
has so grown into the body politic that it could 
not be torn away without rending a thousand 
fibres and letting out blood. The abbe's most 
unfortunate letter has already sped through the 
blacks as a fire among dry leaves. Besides/' 
he added, bending towards his son and speaking 
in a lowered and intense voice, "/ have had a 
warning from Jacque" 

"What, from Jacque!" exclaimed Henry 
Pascal, starting from his seat and suddenly 
showing the most profound interest. " Has 
Jacque Beatty had aught to say about this?" 

" He has," replied his father. 

"What are the disclosures ?" was the hurried 
inquiry. 

"Two days ago he sought me in private, 
and I will confide his information upon the 
pledge of secrecy he required, as involving 
his life." 



30 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

" The pledge is given," said Henry Pascal ; 
when his father proceeded : 

" Jacque's words were few but startling 
that a movement looking to revolt was wide 
spread and well-organized ; and that the out 
break would probably occur within a few days. 
Inquiries could elicit no more." 

"God knows, it is enough! ejaculated the 
younger Pascal. 

" The interview ended," continued his father, 
" with my obtaining permission to speak of his 
disclosures to you. Your duties often take you 
to the plantations, and, as you were uncon 
vinced by other considerations, it becomes 
necessary to give you the benefit of this faithful 
negro's warning." 

Henry Pascal for some moments remained 
buried in thought. By all who knew him 
Jacque Beatty was held in the highest esteem. 
His fidelity to the Pascal family had been 
thoroughly tested, and Henry Pascal at once 
realized the gravity of the disclosure. 

"Would it violate the pledge," he asked, 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 31 

" to advise the authorities, on general grounds, 
to take steps against the danger?" 

" Not a finger, Henry, can be raised in that 
direction. The pledge to Jacque, that what he 
said should lead to no action beyond the per 
sonal safety of my family, is sacred. He has 
risked his own life for mine, and my word of 
honor shall be inviolate." 

"At least I can speak to Col. Tourner, and 
urge his coming to the Cape. The relations I 
bear to his daughter place his family within 
the conditions of the pledge. I must see him 
to-morrow." 

Further conversation followed in this direc 
tion, when the elder Pascal said: "There is 
another topic, Henry, pressing for considera 
tion. You know the condition of my personal 
affairs. What real estate I own in this city is 
now all but valueless, and planting is carried 
on at a loss. Even if matters become no worse, 
the course of my affairs is directly towards 
bankruptcy. An outbreak of the negroes is 
upon us, and, whether ultimately successful or 
not, it would further depress agriculture, and I 



32 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

am broken up root and branch. A frail state 
of health at my age excludes the hope of 
rebuilding my fortunes, even should the colony 
prosper again ; and I must be looking towards 
you, Henry, for aid. Mr. Harrison's con 
siderate offer for so, I think, I may call it 
is most opportune. Your business here has 
greatly declined, with little prospect of 
recovery. You speak English as fluently as 
French, and would have in Jamaica superior 
opportunities. I advise acceptance. I would 
go with you, and would leave this accursed 
island without a regret, did not your mother's 
dust rest within its soil." 

Henry Pascal was a noble son, full of warm 
sensibilities, and his father's tone struck deeply 
into them. His filial look and manner gave 
the true reply. His words were : 

"My dear father, Mr. Harrison's proposal, 
as you are aware, I have been very carefully 
revolving, and shall now most probably feel 
obliged to accept it, though tender ties bind 
me to St. Domingo. Wherever I am my 
strength is yours, yours always." And of the 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. v 33 

spirit oi these words Henry Pascal's entire life 
had been the faithful expression. 

Filial affection ! how lovely a grace ! Alas ! 
that it is fading out in this material age. Par 
ents are parents still, and encircle their chil 
dren with pure, rich currents of love. But 
children know not parents, or, like dumb cattle, 
are mindful only of the hand that provides. 
Alas ! for our Christian name, that filial piety 
decays, and to-day finds its best expression in 
a heathen land. 

It was a late hour when Henry Pascal bade 
his father good- night, and left for his lodgings 
on la rue St. Simon. The elder Pascal soon 
retired, but it was long before he slept. A 
thousand thoughts thronged his mind. He 
dwelt upon his married life, upon its happy 
course, upon his wife's love; and with the 
memory of her loss was mingled a sense of 
satisfaction that she was removed from the 
burden of such days. His mind ran back to 
his early years, to the home of his youth ; and 
the scenes and incidents illustrating his par 
ents' tender care and his own conduct towards 
2 



34 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

them he recalled with all the freshness of 
yesterday. With a restful feeling his thoughts 
then turned upon his noble, generous son. The 
angry cloud that had gathered so suddenly, 
and was about to burst upon the distracted 
colony, would .complete, he knew, his financial 
ruin. But through the gloom filial affection 
was a star of hope that shone with a steady 
and cheering ray. 



CHAPTER III. 

LA PLAINE DU 




LLIAM Tourner came of a good 
English family. A wild, reckless 
young man, and overwhelmed by 
debt, he fled his country and found refuge on 
the island of Tortuga, among the buccaneers 
a French and English piratical aggregate. A 
difficulty resulted in the separation of the 
nationalities. The English buccaneers became 
settled in Jamaica. William Tourner, for some 
cause, remained with the French section, which 
finally secured a firm footing on the western 
coast of St. Domingo. There, like many others 
of the buccaneers, he amended his ways, became 
a cultivator, and took to wife a Spanish woman, 
from which union descended the Col. Tourner 
of our narrative. 

35 



36 1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

Col. Tourner his former rank in a militia 
regiment gave him the title was a well- 
preserved, middle-aged man of character, taste, 
and cultivation. True to his English and Span 
ish origin, he manifested, save to his intimates, a 
somewhat reserved disposition, the more notice 
able among the lively French Creoles. He was 
blunt of speech and impatient in temper, a fre 
quent cause (to speak in a Johnsonian way) of 
his being disagreeable to others and a source of 
unhappiness to himself. Those who knew him 
well valued his worth. Good men are better 
than they seem to be, and bad men are worse. 

His fortune stood in his estates, which he cul 
tivated with pride and successful care. Though 
far from being a voluptuary, as the planters 
generally were, he supported, under a stimulus 
from Madame Tourner, a superb and expensive 
establishment, and accumulated little out of his 
revenues. His Creole wife, nee Marie Andre, 
was an attractive and accomplished woman, free, 
affable, amiable, but over-indulged and wordly- 
minded, and a votary to the ostentation of 
wealth. A leader of fashion and a devotee to 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 37 

display, she maintained an elegant style of 
living, and paid homage to riches as the means 
of gratifying her luxurious tastes. 

Their only child was a daughter, Emilie, a 
beautiful character, harmoniously blending the 
best qualities of her parents. Henry Pascal had 
won the heart of Emilie Tourner. The families 
lived near each other in the same parish, and 
were intimate. The children grew up, as it 
were, together, and had formed for each other 
an affection of the strength of which they were 
unconscious until separated by Elmilie Tourner's 
going abroad. 

The disturbed condition of France induced 
Col. Tourner to send his daughter to England to 
complete her education. Eighteen months be 
fore she had returned in the fulness and fresh 
ness of her charms. Henry Pascal eagerly 
pressed his suit, and bore away the prize from 
a number of competitors. Marriage, however, 
had been deferred, first, by the death of Madame 
Pascal, and again by the disastrous conflicts 
between the whites and mulattoes, and the dis 
tracted state of colonial affairs. Among those 



38 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

who had sought her hand was a young ex- 
proprietor, Louis Tardiffe, an accomplished man, 
but thoroughly unprincipled. Shrewdly per 
ceiving at the commencement of revolutionary 
activity the probable course of affairs and depre 
ciation of property, he had sold his valuable 
San Domingo possessions and invested the pro 
ceeds in foreign funds. Fifty thousand pounds 
in the Bank of England was for those days a 
substantial worldly guarantee. Though a re 
jected lover, M. Tardiffe continued to pay 
occasional visits to the Tourner family, where 
he was warmly received by Madame Tourner, 
with whom he had early ingratiated himself, and 
who admired him the more as the wisdom of his 
investments became more and more apparent ; 
and, generally, his solid wealth, when fortunes 
were everywhere crumbling, made him a person 
of marked consideration. As colonial troubles 
multiplied he had thoughts of quitting the 
island. A mingled sentiment of love for fimilie 
Tourner and revenge against his successful rival 
restrained him ; and in the waning fortunes of 
their families and his own secure wealth he 



1791^ Tale of San Domingo. 39 

began, as he thought, to perceive a lever which, 
worked with the address he felt conscious of 
possessing, might yet capture the one and crush 
the hopes of the other. He was now living in 
fine style at the Cape, on the interest of his 
investments, and in politics professed to be an 
extreme Republican. 

Belle Vue, the home of the Tourners, was five 
leagues southward from Cape Frangois, on the 
road between Petite Ance and Dondon, and a 
league from the former village. The Pascal 
plantation, known as Sans Souci, lay a league 
and a half east from Belle Vue, on the road 
connecting Petite Ance and Grand Riviere. 

A morning ride in the West Indies is de 
lightful. But to enjoy it one must be up 
betimes, for the sun rises at six, and his early 
ray is powerful. The morning after the con 
versation given in the last chapter Henry Pascal 
rose with the earliest dawn. He had slept but 
little. Thoughts of the impending revolt, of its 
possible success, of its disastrous effects in any 
event, of the distractions it would add to the 
already distracted colony, of his father's embar- 



40 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

rassments, of his leaving San Domingo, of 
Emilie Tourner, filled his mind and banished 
sleep for hours. 

He dressed hastily and looked out. A rain 
for the wet season was at hand had fallen 
during the night. Save a stretch in the east, 
which was slightly reddening, the sky was still 
overcast ; but the clouds hung high and moved 
lazily. In the upper air a few bats were skim 
ming for the morning's meal. Otherwise, all 
nature lay in repose, and looked freshened by 
the evening's rain. Having despatched a simple 
breakfast, he mounted the livery bespoke the 
previous evening, and, stirring the mettle of his 
horse, in a few moments lost sight of the Cape 
behind the Western Morne. 

His road lay through the finest portion of 
La plaine du Nord, and the opening day dis 
closed, in its kind, a scene of unrivalled beauty. 
The French colonists adopted every means to 
stimulate and improve agriculture, and the best 
results were exhibited on this celebrated plain. 
On every side, the deep, dark, rich soil was 
tilled with the utmost care, and with prodigious 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 41 

returns. Separated commonly by citron hedges 
studded with wild flowers that never lost their 
bloom, field succeeded to field, the sameness 
being relieved here and there by the plantation 
houses and the luxurious mansions ol the pro 
prietors and managers, approached through 
magnificent avenues, and all embowered in flora 
of varied and splendid description. It is usual 
throughout the West Indies sometimes on the 
same plantation for cultivation to be carried 
on the whole year round. A ride, therefore, of 
a few miles often suffices as on the morning 
before us to show the cane at every stage 
of advancement, from the planting to the cut 
ting. From the well-kept road shaded at 
almost every point by rows of lime-trees, or 
the graceful papaw or spreading mango, and 
with wild flowers innumerable decking its 
borders wide stretches of cane-cuttings, of the 
dense, dark-green middle growth, or of the cane 
in flower and waving its delicate lilac crest, 
came successively in view. And when the 
glorious tropical sun arose and spread his 
radiance over the scene the effect was magical. 



42 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

The prospect was, indeed, eminently beautiful, 
and though Henry Pascal had ofttimes wit 
nessed it, its influence was still fresh and irre 
sistible, and dispelled for the moment the gloom 
into which his thoughts had plunged him. 

On entering the Belle Vue plantation he 
became conscious of more than ordinary activity 
and bustle. Here, as elsewhere, great columns 
of black smoke were rolling up from the sugar- 
works. His attention, however, was particu 
larly drawn to the gangs of slaves, who, under 
the field overseers, were cutting down the 
straw-yellow cane, and, though at all times a 
merry race, their unusual hilarity, while with 
boisterous song and sally they vigorously plied 
their work, indicated, as did the aspect of the 
fields, the " Crop Over," or what elsewhere is 
known as the " Harvest Home," when, the last 
cane having been cut and sent to the sugar- 
house, each slave receives a quart of rum, a 
holiday, and a feast and dance prepared for 
them on the green. 

A gang of negro women near the road-side, 
in turbaned head, and osnaburg petticoat well 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 43 

tucked in at the waist, were especially notice 
able for their queer song, the dolorous senti 
ments of which were in sharp contrast with 
their superb physiques and the abundant 
evidences of rich and joyous life around them. 
One served as leader, the rest joined in the 
refrain; and the words Englished would run 
as follows : 

" Sangaree da kill de capt'in. 

Oh! Lor', hemus'die; 
New rum kill de sailor, 

Oh ! Lor*, he mils' die ; 
Hard work kill de nigger, 

Oh! Lor*, hemus' die.'' 

From the road entrance, framed in massive 
stone and iron, the approach to the Belle Vue 
mansion was through an avenue of superb 
mountain-cabbage trees, towering often a hun 
dred feet. Behind these on either side, and 
some distance off, stood the negro cabins the 
better class rudely made of stone, roofed with 
a thatch-work of palm; and all embowered 
among mangoes, Java-plums, sour-sops, sapa- 
dilloes, and other trees bearing sweet and 
pleasant fruit. The mansion an ample frame 



44 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

building, somewhat low for its area and simple 
in structure, yet possessing an air of elegance, 
with large, high-pitched rooms, wide, airy 
passages, and girt with deep galleries protected 
by trellis-work on the sun-exposed sides 
occupied a central eminence in the midst of 
a green lawn as smooth as velvet. A succes 
sion of terraces formed so many blooming and 
brilliant circles. Fountains and -swimming- 
pools, cut in stone, cooled the air. Winding 
walks, set in beautiful little shrubbery, and 
shaded by trees in graceful variety the 
feathery-plumed mountain cabbage, the stately 
palmetto, the waving cocoanut, the palm, the 
papaw, sand-box, and silk-cotton led through 
the spacious grounds, the open places of which 
abounded with flowers, rich in many colors, 
and splendid beyond description. 

Henry Pascal rode up, flung the reins to a 
valet, and a moment after was closeted with 
Col. Tourner. 

" I have ridden hard and early," he said, 
after the exchange of salutations, "to make 
a vital disclosure, but require a pledge to 



1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 45 

secrecy, and to no further action than the 
safety of your family may demand." 

" Zounds ! Henry Pascal, you all but take 
away my breath," exclaimed the Colonel, whose 
look of surprise at his visitor's unusually timed 
call and urgent manner was increased by his 
words ; " and you will completely do so, if you 
strap me up so tightly." 

"There is no alternative," Henry Pascal 
gravely answered. 

" I have so received the communication, and 
must so transmit it." 

"But, in all seriousness, monsieur, do you 
deem it wise and safe to bind one's self thus 
absolutely, and in regard to an unknown and 
what you call vital communication?" 

" The conditions," his visitor answered, " are 
unyielding." 

" But, suppose," the Colonel continued, " I 
should bind myself to a wrong ? " 

"Col. Tourner," came the impressive reply, 
"I am here for your good. The pledge is 
required for the protection of a friend. It 
must be given, or I am compelled to return 



46 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

with the word unspoken, and the consequences 
upon your head." 

The Colonel's scruple was advanced rather 
on the spur of the instant than as seriously 
entertained. It was a momentary resistance 
to a sudden and unlooked-for assault upon the 
will, and easily gave way, as reason asserted 
its office, before the high character and peculiar 
earnestness of his guest. He therefore added, 
after a moment's pause : 

" I yield the point. Let me hear what you 
have to say." 

"It is even this: Jacque Beatty reveals to 
my father that a negro insurrection is at hand, 
and has advised him to improve his chances of 
safety by a residence at the Cape." 

"Mon Dieu! And what action has your 
father taken?" asked the Colonel quickly, and 
with a changing countenance. 

" He is now domiciled at the Cape, twenty- 
four hours after the disclosure." 

"Dreadful! dreadful!" murmured the Colonel. 
" God take mercy on us ! " 

" But what precisely," he added, looking up 



1791^1 Tale of San Domingo. 47 

at his visitor in an eager way, " did you gather 
from Jacque's communication that a plot is 
forming, or that an outbreak is actually at 
hand?" 

" The latter," was the reply. 

"And you have full confidence in Jacque's 
statement?" the Colonel asked. 

"Implicit. You must know, indeed, that 
the circumstances of the colony for the past 
two years afford speculative grounds for sup 
posing such an event highly probable; but 
Jacque's word is enough." 

" And you think," asked the Colonel again, 
" there is no exaggeration?" 

" You know, monsieur, Jacque's character for 
prudence and fidelity. Not a doubt exists with 
me that an appalling calamity hangs over us." 

"Why, Henry Pascal," broke out Col. 
Tourner as a new thought struck him, "I 
feel confident my slaves would defend me. 
They are preparing to celebrate the ' Crop 
Over' this very evening; and I have never 
seen them more contented, or enter so heartily 
into the spirit of the occasion." 



48 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

"That may be," his visitor rejoined; "but 
do you suppose there are even chances that 
the defence would be successful?" 

"What, then, in Heaven's name, do you 
advise?" asked Col. Tourner, throwing him 
self back in his chair with an air of anxious 
uncertainty. 

" That you follow my father's example, and 
go with your family at once to the Cape." 

" Henry Pascal, you are right," said his host 
after a thoughtful pause. " No other course is 
open. 'Twould be folly to risk my family by 
remaining here." 

" My GJ-od ! what a prospect ! " he bitterly 
added, and in apparent soliloquy. " I have 
been persuading myself that a brighter day 
would dawn; but, should the slaves rise, no 
hope remains, at least for the present proprie 
tors. The colony becomes a wreck, and all of 
us beggars." 

It was finally arranged that Henry Pascal 
should secure apartments for the Tourners at 
the Hotel de Ville, when the former, again 
pressing upon the Colonel immediate action, 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 49 

bade his host adieu, to join Emilie Tourner, 
whom he had observed upon the lawn. Slightly 
above the medium height, with the graceful 
symmetry of outline in form and feature so 
expressive everywhere in tropical life, in the 
bloom of youth and health, her full, dark 
eyes beaming with intelligence and sensibility, 
Emilie Tourner, in her personal charms, amply 
sustained the reputation for which Creole 
maidens are famous. Her character, in cer 
tain aspects, was a tropical exception. Possess 
ing the simplicity, the enthusiasm, the purity 
of heart and warmth of affection characteristic 
of Creoles, she was without the ordinary air 
of languor and tendency to inactivity and 
indolence, born of an enervating climate and 
habitual dependence upon retinues of slaves. 
Whether due to her remnant of English blood, 
or to her English education, or to both com 
bined, her mental fibre had in it a useful 
element of firmness and energy. If we add 
a sweet voice and a winning manner, the 
portraiture is complete. 
4 



50 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

Some work to be done in the grounds pre 
liminary to the "Crop Over" had required 
her direction, and she was returning as Henry 
Pascal approached, her graceful figure showing 
to advantage in the morning costume simple, 
as became the hour, yet elegant, as became the 
daughter of a San Domingo proprietor. They 
met with the recognition of lovers. Startled, 
as her quick eye read the troubled mind of 
Henry Pascal, Emilie Tourner was the first to 



"Monsieur," she exclaimed hurriedly and 
with a look of alarm, " what has happened, tell 
me what has happened ? You seem worn and 
anxious as I have never marked before." 

"Be not disturbed, mademoiselle; I slept 
little last night, and have ridden since the 
morning's dawn." 

" Are you not from Sans Souci?" 

"No, mademoiselle; I left the Cape at 
four." 

" Why, then, this long, early ride ? And I 
am told by the valet that your horse has been 
urged!" 



1791^ Tale of San Domingo. 51 

" The condition of the colony, mademoiselle, 
is sufficient cause for anxiety." 

" Such, monsieur, has been its condition for 
two years and more. So much angry discus 
sion, so much rumor and turmoil and conflict, 
so many sudden and wild changes all this has 
bewildered me. I am kept in a state of fearful 
expectance, and ready to start almost at my own 
shadow. Pardon my precipitancy. But your 
look, monsieur, and the circumstances of your 
visit, argue something unusual, and I must 
know what it is. It is far better, in these dread 
days, to know the worst than be racked with 
imaginings about some danger suspected." 

To this appeal Henry Pascal replied that 
she had conjectured correctly; that there was 
something unusual ; and that in truth he had 
sought her to speak of it. He then pointed 
out, in a general way and at length, that the 
struggle of the mulattoes for civil rights was 
exerting the same influence upon the negroes 
that the struggle of the Commons in France 
had exerted upon the mulattoes ; that the 
slaves, in many quarters, were ominously rest- 



52 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

less and threatening ; that he greatly feared 
they would very soon be another element in 
the disorder of the colony ; that the times were 
becoming more lawless, and plantation life 
more unsafe; that his father, in consequence, 
had just changed his residence to the Cape; 
that he had come over to advise similar action 
to Col. Tourner ; that, as the result of the inter 
view, her father had instructed him to secure 
apartments for his family at the Hotel de Ville, 
and that he earnestly desired her to stimulate 
her parents, so far as she could, to immediate 
action. 

" I shall do as you wish me," she answered, 
pausing to reply, "for I confide in your judg 
ment. Yet all this has about it a suddenness 
I cannot fathom." 

" I am forbidden now, mademoiselle, to speak 
my mind more fully. You shall know more 
hereafter. Trust me," he added in significant 
tones, " and heed my warning." 

She glanced at her companion, but said noth 
ing. They had been slowly walking along the 
shaded way, and having now reached a seat 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 53 

beneath a silk-cotton, occupied it in silence 
fimilie Tourner absorbed in what she had just 
heard, her companion in the thoughts to which 
he was about to give expression. Presently 
he spoke, and with a touch of hesitation : 

"Mademoiselle, I begin to despair of the 
colony, and my thoughts have been running 
upon the Harrison offer." 

" Henry ! " she cried, her manner suddenly 
assuming great tenderness, and tears filling 
her eyes, " will you can you add to these new 
forebodings the prospect of your leaving San 
Domingo?" 

" Dearest Elmilie," he replied, deeply touched, 
and speaking in a strain of equal tenderness, 
"it is my love for you that moves me. My 
own business, as you are aware, is sadly re 
duced. My father's fortune hangs by a thread. 
He has but his estates and slaves. Should 
trouble with the latter arise, the former are 
valueless. If the Harrison offer justified it, I 
would ask you to name our bridal day, and 
take you with me from this distracted island." 

" Have you, then, decided upon going ? " she 



54 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

quickly asked, catching at what she supposed 
might be his implied meaning, and turning 
upon her companion a searching glance. 

" I have not," he replied. " I was but 
speaking of what might become necessary." 

"Do you think your going probable?" she 
again asked. 

" Press me not, fimilie. I could not answer 
without speaking of matters upon which my 
lips are for the present sealed." 

She had regained outward composure, but 
deep and despairing grief was in her words as 
she replied: 

"My heart, Henry, has become lead, and 
sinks within me. I thought the excitements 
produced by the 15th of May decree were 
calming down, and danger disappearing. The 
darkness is gathering again, and seems deeper 
than ever. If there be light beyond, G-od help 
us to reach it ! " 

"I will not disguise from you, fimilie," 
replied her lover, pressed with fears, yet anx 
ious to cheer her, " what I regard as the 
extreme gravity of affairs ; but keep a brave 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 55 

spirit. The skies shall yet brighten for us. 
Hasten your father to the Cape ; you will there 
be secure, and we can speak together of these 
matters more fully." 

The horse had been ordered, the adieus were 
spoken, and Henry Pascal, mounting the gig, 
and urged by the energy of his thoughts, was 
speedily at the Cape again ; for the road was 
excellent, the sky still somewhat overcast, and 
the day an unusually cool one. 




CHAPTER IV. 
A DISCUSSION. 

|PON the departure of his guest, Col 
onel Tourner at once sought his 
daughter, and learned the character 
of the communication Henry Pascal had made 
to her. They agreed it would be better to defer 
speaking to Madame Tourner of the expected 
removal till the morrow. She was taking, as 
usual with her, a lively concern in the prepara 
tions for the " Crop Over." A lady of fashion 
though she was, she had at heart warm, tender 
sympathies, and, sincerely interested in the 
welfare and happiness of the slaves, and per 
sonally attached to many of them, the " Crop 
Over " was just the event to awaken her kind- 
heartedness. On these occasions her best stores 
were spread without stint before them, and she 
56 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 57 

was now busily adding to her stock of guava 
jelly and other delicacies, and superintending 
with great spirit the general arrangements for 
the feast to the great delight of her husband, 
who was well known for his humanity towards 
his slaves, and encouraged to the utmost such 
exhibitions of domestic zeal. 

The Colonel expressed his determination, in 
view of the increasing lawlessness, to ride over 
to the Cape early next morning, and, if proper 
provisions had been made, to remove thither 
immediately, in which proposed step his daugh 
ter warmly sustained him. 

The afternoon brought an unexpected and, 
under all the circumstances, an unwelcome 
visitor in the person of M. Tardiffe. He had 
that morning ridden over to Dondon to see 
some friends. Calling at Belle Vue on his way 
back to the Cape, he accepted a pressing invita 
tion from his bonne amie, Madame Tourner, to 
stay to the "Crop Over." 

M. Tardiffe was a thorough type of the 
Frenchman of the period. A retrousse nose 
and a pair of small, bright eyes occupied their 



58 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

usual place in an oval, clean-shaven, and secre 
tive countenance. He was marked by a stoop 
in the shoulders, used glasses, and addressed 
one with a suspicious kind of smile and turned- 
up cast of the eyes. The ordinary conception 
of a gentleman he very well realized, being 
skilled in the accomplishments of the day, 
well-informed, polished, and agreeable, but 
withal was vain, insincere, vindictive, and dis 
solute though his pretensions were otherwise. 

Preparations in hand for the "Crop Over" 
gave Madame Tourner and her daughter satis 
factory excuses for absence, and during the 
afternoon Colonel Tourner and his guest were 
together alone. Conversation almost neces 
sarily turned upon politics and colonial affairs, 
which, though apparently not so threatening as 
they had been a month or two before, were yet 
threatening enough, and were in the heart and 
on the lips of every one. 

It was a period when the strifes of factions 
had become merged into a sentiment of intense 
hostility to the mother country. At the begin 
ning of revolutionary activity, and with an eye 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 59 

to the preservation of slavery, the planters 
were a unit for legislative independence, it 
being justified in their view by the intelligence 
and wealth of the colony and the impossibility 
of speedy communication with France over the 
wide ocean between them. They argued that 
the local affairs of the planters would be best 
administered by the planters themselves, and 
that in periods of excitement and danger 
prompt and prudent action by those on the 
ground and familiar with all the circumstances 
might be essential to the life of the colony. 

But as the tendency towards enfranchisement 
of the colored races developed in the National 
Assembly, other parties arose. Some and 
among these was Colonel Tourner favored a 
British protectorate; others desired colonial in 
dependence under the general guardianship of 
the European powers; others were monarch 
ists, or friends of the late regime; whilst others 
were republicans. To the latter party belonged 
M. Tardiffe, who was conspicuous for cham 
pioning the shifting sentiments of the National 
Legislature. 



60 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

These divisions greatly weakened the cause 
of the whites. They were suddenly healed, 
however, by the effect of the 15th of May de 
cree, which terminated the embittered struggle 
in the enfranchisement of the mulattoes. For 
two years the colony had been in uproar, often 
in arms ; but the storm that burst upon receipt 
of the news of this decree was unparalleled. 
With the exception of a few inveterate repub 
licans, all parties at once became consolidated 
against the mother country. In the Northern 
province, and especially in its capital, Cape 
Frangois, the feeling was exceptionally intense. 
A motion was made in the Provincial Assem 
bly, then in session at the Cape, to reject the 
civic oath and raise the British flag. A depu 
tation was forthwith despatched to France to 
intercede for the repeal of the obnoxious decree, 
the execution of which the governor-general at 
the peril of his life was forced to suspend until 
the result of the embassy should be ascertained. 
The hopes thus raised had abated somewhat 
the outward agitation; a deep and wrathful 
feeling nevertheless remained. 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 61 

The mulattoes, on their part, furious at the 
palpable injustice done them and the cow 
ardly conduct of the governor-general, sullenly 
awaited the aid of the French government. 
The disastrous issue of former conflicts alone 
restrained them from open hostilities. The 
two parties thus stood at daggers drawn, and 
a dreadful sense of uncertainty and insecurity 
pervaded the colony. 

At this crisis M. Tardiffe, alone among 
the prominent citizens of the Cape, remained 
attached to the republican cause, even up to 
the point of justifying the 15th of May decree. 
A close observer of events in France, he foresaw 
the triumph of the extreme republicans, and 
having no property interests in San Domingo . 
to be affected by the immediate results of the 
Jacobin policy towards universal liberty, he 
was influenced by a not uncommon political 
incentive, the wish to be on the winning side. 
He predicted the speedy emancipation of the 
slaves, and even went so far as to hold that it 
would be to the ultimate benefit of the colony. 
These opinions, freely advocated in public, 



62 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

drew upon him an excessive degree of odium. 
On more than one occasion violence was offered 
him, and his life being seriously threatened, 
he took the advice of friends and for a period 
withdrew from the Cape, remaining at Dondon, 
where he had relatives. Under these circum 
stances, he became exceedingly popular with 
the mulattoes and blacks, and suddenly rose to 
great influence over them. His name was 
everywhere on their lips, and far and wide he 
was known as Vami des noirs. He was now 
at the Cape again, for the excitements had 
sensibly declined. But his opinions he held 
very quietly, and, though no craven, deemed it 
advisable to withdraw almost entirely from 
public view. 

Restless under this mental repression and 
seclusion, it was with a sense of relief that he 
discussed affairs with Colonel Tourner. Their 
opinions differed widely. But on former occa 
sions they had amicably debated their differ 
ences, and though the Colonel understood the 
character of his guest, and had no special 
admiration for him, yet M. Tardiffe's manner 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 63 

was conciliating, and the latter felt safe in 
giving free expression to his views. 

On Colonel Tourner's part the conversation 
at the outset was reluctant and cold. The 
interview with Henry Pascal had left him 
abstracted and moody, and he would greatly 
have preferred his visitor's absence. His 
heart, however, held a heated current of 
thought, which, struck by M. Tardiffe, soon 
sent glow and point into the dialogue. 

" I am happy, Monsieur Tourner," said M. 
Tardiffe, in his smiling way and florid style, 
" that affairs wear a more improved aspect than 
when we last met." 

" I see no change but for the worse," was the 
somewhat short answer. 

"For the worse! Ma foi, monsieur, you 
must speak jestingly." 

"There are maladies, Monsieur Tardiffe, 
wherein the sufferer outwardly seems rallying, 
while inwardly the disease hastens its deadly 
work." 

" Pardon me, but I fail to comprehend." 

" I mean this," said the Colonel : " the shilly- 



64 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

shally course of that madcap body, the National 
Assembly, now favoring the whites and now 
the mulattoes, has so embittered the struggle, 
and so spun out the wrangle over what are 
called the natural rights of man, that Jacobin 
follies have taken root among the slaves, and 
I fear we are threatened with a strike for 
freedom, which would give the colony its coup 
de grace" 

" You astonish me, monsieur, and I must 
regard your view a mistaken one." 

" Very well, we shall see." 

" The aspiration for freedom," continued M. 
Tardiffe, "has doubtless been caught by the 
blacks ; but it's incredible they should attempt 
to realize it by violence, when a legal and 
peaceful medium is perceived to be at hand." 

" You think, then, the slaves will be free, 
one way or another? " 

"I do, monsieur. Prance will confirm the 
enfranchisement of the mulattoes, the current 
is all in that direction ; and the freedom of the 
slaves must ensue as a logical sequence." 

" So says the Abbe Gregoire." 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 65 

" Yes, monsieur, and a noble letter the Abbe 
has written." 

"Noble! forsooth!" exclaimed the Colonel 
with a frown. " Yes noble you may call it, if to 
breed rebellion and blood be noble ! The slaves 
understand that letter far too well." 

"They also understand, Monsieur Tourner, 
how affairs in France are progressing in their 
favor. Why should they attempt to seize the 
prize, when a resort to violence would ensure 
the postponement of it, quite probably the 
absolute loss? Their peaceable emancipation, 
monsieur, I believe would be for the advantage 
of us all." 

" Pshaw ! " replied the Colonel, rising and 
showing impatience at the sentiment " I have 
looked carefully into this question myself, yet 
know no grounds for any such notion." 

"What say you to the abstract ground, 
Monsieur Tourner? Has not the negro a 
natural right to be free ? " 

" Let me tell you and pardon my plain 
speaking that when I hear one propose a view 
in the abstract, I am ready to hear nonsense. 
5 



66 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

The circumstances and qualities of a thing are 
a part of the thing itself. Abstractions are 
mental toys, and cannot solve real questions. 
Take the negro as he is among us, with all his 
surroundings, and what are your emancipation 
reasons, or grounds for believing he has the 
wits for self-government and becoming a fit 
factor in our civilization ? " 

Colonel Tourner delivered this with an en 
ergy that surprised his guest. The latter, 
however, whilst resolved not to offend the Col 
onel whom he had special reasons for wishing to 
please, accepted the challenge, and continued : 

"Is not the negro, monsieur, of the same 
stock with ourselves, and must we not suppose 
he possesses capabilities qualifying him to 
reach our altitude ? " 

" Of the same stock with ourselves, eh ? 
How do you account for his black skin and 
negro tokens ? " 

" By climatic influence. My opinion is, that 
the human race was one at the first in origin 
and color that it multiplied and spread 
and that separate sections, settled in different 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 67 

latitudes, took on, under climatic influences 
acting with abnormal force in that early and 
impressionable period of the race's age took 
on, I say, monsieur, under these circumstances, 
different hues, which, as the race grew and 
hardened, crystallized into permanent charac 
teristics. Those who first dwelt beneath a 
tropical sun, became negroes." 

" Clearly, but partially put, Monsieur Tar- 
diife. Now hear my opinion : it is that mental 
change and bodily change were contempo 
raneous, and that the same tropical sun which 
blackened the skin and crinkled the hair of 
those first dwellers, permanently weakened the 
brain also, whereby the negro is unfitted for 
successful freedom by the side of the white 



man." 



" You push the climatic effect too far, mon 



sieur." 



" I see not how. I know no ground to bar 
the mental change. Every thing whitens to 
wards the poles, and darkens and degenerates 
towards the equator at least as respects man. 
His most perfect development is in the centre 



68 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

of the temperate continents; and the first 
dwellers there were the ancestors of the white 
race, who, beneath a friendly sun, permanently 
received, in that early and impressionable age 
you speak of, their superiorities over the black- 
skin brother." 

"You are hard upon Monsieur le Noir" 
replied M. Tardiffe, somewhat disconcerted by 
the unforeseen turn in his argument. 

" Do you think I am one to be unfair to the 
negro ? " asked the Colonel, with a spice of 
warmth. 

"No, no, monsieur, not intentionally. I 
recognize fully your well- deserved reputation 
as an exceptionally benevolent master, and I 
believe you are ready to credit the negro with 
the abilities you honestly regard him as pos 
sessing. But I think you underrate those 
abilities. There are facts, plain facts, mon 
sieur, that support higher claims than you 
allow." 

" Facts are jewels," remarked the Colonel. 

" The facts I refer to," continued his guest, 
"are the talents and erudition individual 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 69 

negroes have displayed, and which gauge the 
possibilities of the race." 

" Give your facts." 

"Well Benjamin Bannaker is a notable one, 
a Maryland negro, residing near Baltimore." 

" Bannaker is not unknown to me," said 
Colonel Tourner. 

" You know, then, his reputation for eminent 
scientific attainments they have been recog 
nized by the savants of France. Monsieur 
Pascal, Jr., has one of Bannaker's almanacs, 
received through his Baltimore house, and it 
is a monument to this negro's astronomical 
abilities." 

"Bannaker is a man of science," answered 
Colonel Tourner, " and deserves the more praise, 
because his chances have been few and scant. 
But can he be a warrant for the intellectual 
hope of the negro, when his grandmother was 
a white woman ? " 

" It's true," continued the Colonel in answer 
to M. Tardiffe's expression of surprise. " His 
grandmother was a Welsh woman, who freed 
one of her slaves and then married him ; and I 



70 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

fancy Bannaker's fine gifts are rather to be 
traced to his large measure of white blood." 

"Well, well, Monsieur Tourner, I own to 
little knowledge about Bannaker, beyond his 
very remarkable ^ciics. Should he prove 
unavailable for my purpose, I am yet not 
without examples." 

" Let me hear them," the Colonel said. "This 
question has been a study with me, and I 
welcome any light you can shed upon it." 

" I direct your attention, then, to one Thomas 
Fuller, a pure African, I believe if I mistake 
not, an imported African a United States 
negro, too, resident in the State of Virginia. 
The accounts are, that, entirely unaided, Fuller 
has attained phenomenal proficiency as a calcu 
lator, being able, by pure mental effort and 
more rapidly than the scholar's pencil, to solve 
the most difficult questions, involving series of 
multiplications, and with products extending 
into the millions." 

" I make a note of all such cases, Monsieur 
Tardiffe, and know, too, something of ' Negro 
Tom,' as he is called." 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 71 

" Very well and what think you of ' Negro 
Tom,' as an argument ? 

"Are you aware that this negro can neither 
read nor write, and that, beyond his wonderful 
gift for calculation, there is nothing to show he 
has more than a common-place negro mind?" 

"Indeed!" 

"Such are the facts, as I have read them; 
and his case is of a piece with those negroes 
some have come under my eye in whom a 
rare musical gift allies itself with a general 
mental state verging almost upon idiotcy." 

"Nevertheless," replied M. Tardiife, "these 
facts are intellectual phenomena, and possess 
significance. How will you value them ? " 

"As tokens of a high origin as signs of 
what the source of the race is, not of what the 
race itself will be. Look around you, Monsieur 
Tardiife. What promise do you see of advanced 
mental life in the negroes, as a whole ? Is not 
the intelligence of the lower races centred in 
the mulattoes, and in them as they near the 
white stock? Look down the course of his 
tory. Where has the African built cities, 



72 1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

adorned letters, or founded great and conquer 
ing states?" 

" We should look forward" eagerly interposed 
M. Tardiffe, " for negro civilization, and believe 
that as Asia was once in the ascendant, as Eu 
rope is now, so the day for Africa is to dawn." 

" Monsieur," rejoined the Colonel, " the 
growth of civilization is not the evolution of suc 
cessive continents. If civilization has withered 
in one quarter to bloom in another, it has been 
brought forth, in every instance, by some variety 
of the white or yellow race. Sixty centuries have 
passed, yet Africa remains the dark continent. 
If the blacks have the capabilities you claim 
for them, it is incredible that the history of the 
world should not point to a single illustration. 
I grant the talents and culture of individual 
Africans, such as Amo, Capitein, and Phillis 
Wheatley; but, believing the negro to be a dete 
riorated part of the human family, these occa 
sional instances of cultivation, and such mental 
marvels as < Negro Tom ' exhibits, are proofs, to 
my mind, of a noble ancestry from which the race 
has fallen, not of a height it is yet to reach." 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 73 

"Monsieur," said M. Tardiffe, resisting a 
Voutrance, " you furnish material for reflection, 
but I agree not with you. Was not the primi 
tive condition of man, let me ask, that of a 
savage?" 

"Civilized man, then, has risen from sav- 
ageism, eh ? " 

" Precisely so, Monsieur Tourner ; and when 
the critical influence reaches the negro, or the 
proper impact from without strikes him, why 
should he not rise too, as the whites have 
done?" 

" Perhaps you go a step further, and imagine 
what in these days we are beginning to hear, 
that the savage has risen from the ape, eh?" 

" The theory appears plausible." 

"Bagatelle que tout cela!" broke out the 
Colonel " a theory certain savants are amus 
ing their leisure with. Have you read their 
books ? " 

" Some of them." 

"Don't they assume that developments in 
nature are smooth and gradual ? " 

" Yes, monsieur." 



74 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 



, then, do they fill the sudden and 
broad gap between the savage and the ape?" 

"By an extinct species of lemur, known to 
savants as a pentadactyle, plantigrade buno- 
dont." 

"Their learned jargon! Has this five- 
fingered, flat-footed bunodont, as they term 
it, ever been seen?" 

" It is visible, monsieur, to the eye of science." 

"Have any traces of it in what are called 
the geological ages, ever been found? " 

"Savants explain their absence, monsieur, 
through a theory of fossil formation." 

"Yes, yes," responded the Colonel, "they 
have troops of theories, I own. See here, 
Monsieur Tardiffe, this fancied ape is the latest 
of its kind. There are numbers of older and 
living species. How happens it that this has 
been lost ? Let them find it, or show traces of 
it, and prove the link, or yield to man a free 
chain of his own." 

" Well, monsieur, dismiss the ape, if you 
will. N'importe. But, apropos, allow me one 
question: Is not civilization a development?" 



1791 ,4 Tale of San Domingo. 75 

"Yes." 

" Very well : are not civilized peoples devel 
opments from savage peoples ? " 

"No certainly not from savages of the lower 
grade." 

"What say you, then, of the Groths and 
Vandals, and other northern ancestors of the 
present European nations?" and M. Tardiife's 
keen little eyes sparkled again at having, as he 
supposed, caught the Colonel in a corner. 

" That they were not degraded savages." 

"Not savages, monsieur, when their name 
is a synonym for all that is merciless and vile ! " 

"I say, not degraded savages," replied the 
Colonel. " The accounts we have of them are 
mainly from their enemies. The Gothic races 
lived in villages, followed husbandry and the 
chase, were organized into powerful military 
bodies, and showed aptitude for the higher 
culture the moment they touched it. Take the 
fiercest of them all, Attila and his Huns. 
Their war with the Roman Empire was a 
struggle between the free life of the plains and 
those luxurious settlements of Southern Europe 



76 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

that had transferred political power to some of 
the meanest and basest of mankind. Attila, 
their king, could entertain Roman Embassa- 
dors with dignity and splendor, and was offered 
in marriage the sister of a Roman Emperor. 
Do you place such a people, sir, on the level of 
African savages, with wooly head and turned- 
out lip?" 

M. Tardiffe sat silent, and the Colonel con 
tinued : 

" BTo, monsieur, I do not believe that civiliza 
tion has its sources in savageism. What does 
this new science of geology witness, but that 
the oldest and lowest manhood is a real man 
hood? that in the deepest strata in which 
human remains are found, we find a real man, 
not a savage, but a real man, bearing rule over 
nature, and with aptitudes giving the hope of 
what he has since become? And when life's 
river appears within the bounds of history, it is 
seen to flow nobly from the start, and ever 
maintains, at some point at least, a high level. 
If it lowers in one quarter, it swells in another. 
From time to time it renews itself by a union 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 77 

of currents, and is illustrated in its course by 
the Mosaic writings, Assyrian and Egyptian 
grandeur, Greek art and poetry, Roman law, 
and modern civilization. The lower forms of 
savageism, sir, are certain chronic degenera 
tions, the swamps and bogs along its banks." 

At this point the entrance of a servant with 
sangaree and fruit interrupted the discussion. 
It was renewed, almost immediately, under 
a special and practical shape the effect of 
emancipation in St. Domingo. 

" Monsieur Tardiffe," said Colonel Tourner 
having dismissed the valet, and now assuming 
the aggressive, " what grounds have you for the 
notion that freedom would prove a betterment 
to this colony ? " 

" I can express it in one word," replied M. 
Tardiffe, as he drained a glass of sangaree 
"the blacks would be free to develop their 
capabilities ; and the whites could then procure 
more intelligent workmen, without the burden 
of many slaves either too young or too old to 
labor." 

" Do you imagine the two peoples would 



78 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

grow side by side peacefully, without race 
jealousies and struggles ? " 

" In great social revolutions, monsieur, jar- 
rings must accompany adjustments. C'est in 
evitable. But adjustment must come, and with 
advantage, since the change would rest on 
justice." 

" Is it your opinion, Monsieur Tardiffe, that 
the two peoples would remain apart? " 

"For a period, undoubtedly. But as the 
blacks attain wealth and cultivation, why 
should there not be a gradual coalescence?" 

"Humph!" was the Colonel's brief reply, 
given very expressively. 

"The twenty thousand mulatto half-breeds 
among us," his guest went on, "with every 
circumstance most unfavorable for the blacks, 
I take as a pledge for such a result, when the 
blacks, free and advancing, shall have reversed 
these circumstances." 

The Colonel's question had been in a measure 
leading, and the answer made not unantici 
pated, but M. Tardiife's manner was so cool 
and matter-of-course, and his response such a 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 79 

combination of statement and argument, that 
the Colonel fired up and delivered a hot reply. 

" In the lusty roves of white men among 
slaves I see no tendency towards a proper 
blending of bloods, Monsieur Tardiffe. Fusion, 
sir, would follow from the thorough social 
intermingling of the two races on terms of 
unconsciously recognized equality, and the 
freedom of marriage across the color line and 
the bar to this, sir, I hold to be insuperable." 

" Monsieur, you speak positively," answered 
M. Tardiffe, in his usual, inflated way ; "nev 
ertheless I am constrained to believe such 
a coalescence both reasonably possible, and 
highly probable." 

"Hut! tut!" the Colonel exclaimed. "Eman 
cipation, citizenship, full political rights, may be 
possibilities, but social fusion, never ! ! Fusion 
with the blacks, forsooth ! Become what they 
may, negroes will never see union with the 
children or children's children of their masters. 
Set it down as a sure thing. The whites would 
spurn honorable alliance with them, as they 
have done with the bastard mulatto." 



80 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

" Your prejudices, Monsieur Turner, are par 
donable." 

" Call it prejudice or what not, it has a scien 
tific and permanent basis. This fusion you 
speak of, sir, is forbidden by natural laws." 

"What ! Are my ears open ? Forbidden by 
natural laws, do you say, when the wise inform 
us that mingling of bloods is an ethical bless 
ing?" 

"Mixing bloods is not a blessing, unless 
between varieties of the same group." 

" I do not altogether perceive your meaning, 



monsieur." 



"I mean, that mankind is marked off by 
color into three great groups, white, yellow, 
black; that the blending of varieties within 
each group is a betterment, but not the blend 
ing of the groups themselves." 

"Ah! monsieur," said M. Tardiffe smilingly, 
" you are representing the theory of some intense 
Caucasian, no doubt." 

" Theories were in order just now, to coin the 
bunodont," answered the Colonel, relaxing him 
self into a grim sort of smile; "but I give 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 81 

demonstrations : The Griquas of South Africa, 
hybrids of Dutch colonists and Hottentots 
the Mongolian and Slavic mixture of Russian- 
Asia the Portuguese and negro half-breeds of 
Brazil mongrel races, in make and mind and 
morals below the baser stock are the facts in 
proof of what I say." 

" Monsieur Tourner, I confront facts with 
facts. In spite of the obstacles a powerful race 
prejudice originates, are not many of the wealth 
iest, best educated, and most respectable among 
us, the half-breed mulattoes ? " 

" That certain grades of the mulatto are far 
above the negro, I allow ; but others are below 
him, and experiments show that the blending 
of whites and blacks would end in a debased 
hybrid race inferior to the native negro 
ancestry." 

" Permit me, monsieur, for the word ' experi 
ments ' to suggest ' race partialities,' as being a 
more accurate term." 

" They are the experiments, sir, of those 
men of science to whom you have shown a 
willingness to appeal, and the result, mark you, 
6 



82 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

is fact, not theory. Suppose fusion effected, 
sir, and the white blood of this colony all 
absorbed by negro embraces. It is certain 
that, under the division and subdivision of the 
white element, the grade of the mixed race 
would rapidly lower, and sink to points beneath 
the negro level. Fusion across the color-line 
would prove a pure curse, Monsieur Tardiife ; 
and the riddle for emancipationists is to find 
betterment in turning loose half a million negro 
slaves among one- tenth their number of highly 
cultivated whites, the former scarcely raised 
above savageism, and the two races remaining 
rigidly apart." 

" It occurs to me, Monsieur Tourner, that for 
a practical man you expend a vast deal of vigor 
upon a somewhat theoretical question. Should 
it ever be at all, complete, unobstructed amal 
gamation is in the far future. Suppose the 
races are to continue asunder. Why should they 
not improve severally, and be mutual helps ? " 

" Two free peoples, standing apart, will not 
go forward side by side, without a struggle for 
the mastery," was the Colonel's reply. "The 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 83 

world has never seen it, and a priori grounds 
are all against it." 

" Methinks an intense Caucasian like Mon 
sieur Tourner should not object to the struggle, 
seeing all the advantages would be on his side." 

" What think you the odds are ? " asked the 
Colonel. 

"Why, monsieur, the immense superiority 
of the whites in respect to wealth, intelligence, 
and prestige." 

" There is a point, Monsieur Tardiffe, where, 
under forms of law, mere numbers will over 
match wealth, intelligence, and prestige, com 
bined. The blacks are more than ten to one 
against us." 

" But would the blacks be disposed to utilize 
their power ? The submissiveness born of slav 
ery must needs linger long among them, and 
the race is known to be unambitious and un- 
persistent." 

" Yet are they capable," replied the Colonel, 
" of sudden and great effort for an immediate 
end ; and, roused and banded by a powerful 
esprit de corps, the outcome of white repugnance 



84 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

and repression, they would resent the attempt 
to hold them as underlings. Realizing their 
power and led by demagogues, they would 
seize political power, and use it for race ends. 
The negro heel, sir," exclaimed the Colonel, 
with an outburst of startling energy, " would 
be on the neck of the white man, and kept 
there by the mere inertia of the mass. St. 
Domingo would become a hell, sir the prince of 
tyrants is he who has once been a slave /" 

A knowledge of the brewing plot imparted 
to the Colonel's conversation a peculiar point 
and bitterness, which, in view of the apparently 
improved condition of affairs, was a constant 
source of surprise to M. Tardiffe. He could 
not understand it. Astonished now at the vehe 
mence of his host, he remained silent, and the 
Colonel continued : 

"What, Monsieur Tardiffe, are the leading 
traits of the negro ? I pass by theft and false 
hood. They are the vices of slaves. Let 
slavery, too, explain, if it can, why the negro 
shrinks from thought, from foresight, and from 
toil. The race, sir, is gay and jovial, but, mark 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 85 

you," he added, raising the finger of emphasis, 
"it is cruel, revengeful, and intensely lewd. By 
whom are the most fiendish crimes done among 
us? We shield our daughters red-handed, and 
the doom of the negro ravisher is swift and 
terrible. Yet does not his powerful lust often 
brave this doom in the beastliest and most 
pitiful outrage ? Let the swelling numbers of 
this people, chafed by race antagonisms into 
vindictive moods, once get the upper hand, and 
what fate, sir, awaits the whites? " 

" At the approach of such danger, monsieur, 
they would of course depart the island." 

"Yes, they would be driven out in stark 
beggary what would be left of them." 

" Well, monsieur," said M. Tardiife, deeming 
it advisable to shift the point, " you must allow, 
that the tendency of the age is to advance the 
political power of the commons, and they rule 
through majorities. I put an imaginary case. 
Suppose that numbers have prevailed and that 
the whites have emigrated, leaving the blacks 
in sole control. Do you think, with the monu 
ments of civilization before them and the 



86 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

memory of its methods fresh, they would 
improve?" 

" No ! I do not," was the Colonel's emphatic 
reply. "Semi-savages, used to no other sub 
ordination than that of domestic slavery, could 
not unite in the relations of regular govern 
ment, or be moulded into a system of artificial 
society." 

" I do not mean, Monsieur Tourner, that the 
negro would immediately, or within a genera 
tion, become an enlightened citizen ; but would 
he not manifest advancement in that direction ? 
He is a trained laborer, and labor is the basis 
of prosperities." 

"He has been a laborer by compulsion," 
answered the Colonel, "and emancipation would 
be. but another name for basking sloth." 

"Such, monsieur, might be the immediate 
result. Liberty's first draught is intoxicating. 
But would not the ultimate effect be to stimu 
late and improve him? At the close of the 
last century the Scottish peasantry were as 
averse to settled industry as we can conceive 
any people to be. They were thieves and 



1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 87 

vagabonds, living without law and begging from 
door to door. What is Scotland to-day, mon 
sieur? The land of thrift and steady habits." 
" The curse of the Scotch," responded the 
Colonel, " was insecurity of law. With a 
change of administration, betterment came. 
These Scotch, too, were another sort of people 
to the negro, with his immature, semi-civilized 
brain. A rising generation, Monsieur Tardiife, 
must be frugal, industrious, temperate, and 
ambitious. I see no hopes of these becoming 
marks of negro character. Emancipation would 
mean emancipation from work. His indolence 
would find an ally in the bounty of the soil, 
and the negro would be an inveterate drone in 
an island where one month's steady labor would 
buy an acre, and one day*s work in the week 
on that acre, yield food enough to maintain a 
family for a year. Left to himself and as he 
now is, he would sink below his present level. 
This splendid civilization would crumble at his 
touch. San Domingo, sir, which is meant to 
be a paradise, would become a pig-sty, and 
wild hogs root over these teeming fields." 



88 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

" You say, monsieur, ' as he now is,' " 
remarked M. Tardiffe, catching at the Colonel's 
expression. " There are circumstances, then, 
under which you conceive it possible for free 
blacks to improve." 

The Colonel nodded assent. 

"Well, monsieur, I shall be delighted to 
hear them, and have you furnish at least one 
ray of light to this dark theme." 

"The circumstances, I think," was the Colo 
nel's reply, "would be their emancipation 
among ah advanced white population, with the 
two races nearing each other in numbers. The 
whites would make and administer the laws 
and guide public opinion, and their energy and 
culture would be lifting to the vain and imi 
tative black. He would have the spur and 
steerage he needs, the moral control exerted by a 
superior race ; and, tutored thus for some gener 
ations, would probably be able to stand alone." 

" Very good, very good," exclaimed M. Tar- 
diife, in whom the discussion had developed a 
personal interest in his side, " and what next 
for Monsieur le Noir 9 " 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 89 

"At a certain point," replied the Colonel, 
"the races should be separated. They have 
differing degrees of wit, and deep-seated social 
repulsions, and could not harmoniously unfold 
themselves within the same sphere. The negro 
has a meagre nature. He is but a grown child, 
an immature man, and the limit of his devel 
opment is mediocrity or a semi-civilized state. 
Trained in the methods of civilization and set 
off by himself, he might thrive in his way and 
to his degree." 

" Ah! monsieur, your word * might 1 obscures 
even this hope for the poor blacks." 

" The theme is a dark one, take it as you 
will. A black state, even under these circum 
stances, would be beset with perils, and would 
need at the outset the helping hand of the 
whites ; for nations, Monsieur Tardiffe, ripen 
slowly, and the sudden formation of a political 
body is a most difficult feat." 

" You think the races should be separated," 
said M. Tardiffe, in a musing sort of way. 

" I do, monsieur." 



90 1791^ Tale of San Domingo. 

" Their remaining together you think would 
be an evil." 

"An unmixed and disastrous evil," replied 
the Colonel. " Beyond a certain height the 
whites would resent the black man's rise, as a 
menace to their own dominion. They would 
keep him an underling. In all quarters the 
blacks would be checked by the aroused antag 
onism and competition of the better trained 
race. Their growing self-assertion would be 
doomed to unceasing mortification. Every 
higher step of progress, every deepening of 
aspiration, would carry with it increased 
humiliation. The vantage-ground of the blacks 
would be their phenomenal fecundity ; and the 
task of the whites would be to hold down a 
swelling, struggling, scowling race, gaining 
upon them in numbers, and enraged at being 
repressed. From this .point, sir, I can see 
naught but troubles, mounting in magnitude, 
and ending with a life- and- death race struggle." 

"But, monsieur," interrupted M. Tardiffe, 
"might not the tension be' relieved by the 
gradual concentration of the races in different 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 91 

sections, and the local supremacy of each on its 
own- ground?" 

" My answer, Monsieur Tardiffe, is, that the 
blacks are naturally unqualified for reaching 
the level to become meet helpers in sustaining 
an advanced civilization. Fitted for low flight, 
they would lose their wings in the attempt to 
soar near the sun. They would sink below 
the natural limit of their development, and, 
becoming moribund, would drag down those 
with whom they are allied. Race conflicts 
would multiply politics would grow utterly 
vile and the poison from a decaying member 
spread universal decline." 

Warned by the stroke of the six o'clock 
plantation bell, the Colonel brought the discus 
sion to a close : 

" But, monsieur, I must allow time for your 
toilet. A word more : You are not to think 
I am in any sense a foe to the blacks. My life 
as a master is a pledge the other* way. I know 
some noble negroes. My opinion of the race, 
as drawn from long observation and study, has 
been given. I hold that the three great divi- 



92 1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

sions of the human family black, yellow, 
white should develop within themselves towards 
their respective bounds, these being a half- 
civilized, civilized, and enlightened state." 

With these words Colonel Tourner rang up 
the valet and placed M. Tardiffe in his charge. 
The latter was soon busy at his toilet, which 
he elaborated with true French art and under 
the stimulus of meeting fimilie Tourner ; and 
if thoughts in regard to her predominated, he 
yet retained a vigorous impression of the con 
versation in which he had just participated, 
and the reflection would come up that Colonel 
Tourner was a needle-witted opponent, and 
bristled all over with " negro " points. 



CHAPTER V. 
THE "CROP OVER." 




was an hour later when M. Tar- 
diffe entered the drawing-room. His 
dress was strictly fashionable, and 
in the style, as far as tropical climate allowed, 
developed with the advance of the French 
Revolution : the coat long, and buttoning at 
the waist, whence it sloped off upwards and 
downwards, with a collar spreading upon the 
shoulders ; the waistcoat open at the throat ; 
breeches rather close-fitting and extending to 
the middle of the calf, where they were met by 
half-top boots ; the cravat was tied loosely in 
bows, and the hair was worn long and gathered 
in a queue. 

Emilie Tourner appeared in a style of simple 
elegance. The light muslin dress was short- 

93 



94 1791^ Tale of San Domingo. 

waisted, and fell in straight, loose folds to her 
feet. The sleeves, tight on the upper arm, ex 
panded from the elbow, and terminated in a 
fringe of rich lace. About the throat a white 
handkerchief, with a flavor of lavender-water, 
was adjusted in such a manner as to represent, 
according to the fashion of the times, the breast 
of a pigeon ; her coiffure was made en boucles, 
after the prevailing mode, the front hair form 
ing a light mass of short curls with the back 
hair flowing, and she displayed a few pieces of 
rare bijouterie, a style of adornment for which 
creole young ladies generally show a passion. 
The only addition to the company was the 
manager in white dittoes, M. Fauchet, the 
usual guest of the proprietor on these occa 
sions. 

Tea was taken rather quietly. The Colonel 
had been so free in speech during the afternoon 
that rest was natural. Emilie Tourner was 
noticeably abstracted, and wore a pensive look. 
The conversation was chiefly confined to M. 
Tardiffe and Madame Tourner, the latter being 
in high spirits, and entertaining her guest in 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 95 

the gracious and charming manner of which 
she was the mistress. 

After tea she invited the company to an 
inspection of the festive tables. M. Tardiffe 
escorted Emilie Tourner, the latter protected 
against the dangerous dew by a hat trimmed 
with bows of ribbon and of great expanse of 
border,and the former by a peculiar palm 
chapeau, which, among San Domingo fashion 
ables, replaced the flat, round brim, and tall, 
conical crown of the Parisian beaver. 

The scene illustrated the proverbial loveliness 
of moonlight evenings in the West Indies. 
The clouds had all fled. The atmosphere, puri 
fied by the recent rain, was perfectly clear, and 
sweet with the odor of roses and lemon-flowers. 
The stars shone brilliantly. Myriads of fire 
flies sparkled in the trees, and the mild radiance 
of the rising gibbous moon was paling the light 
of the many-colored lanterns that at every turn 
illuminated the grounds. 

Cooking in the West Indies is done in small 
charcoal furnaces and out-of-door brick ovens, 
and for the two preceding days Madame Tourner 



96 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

had been taxing her resources in this direction. 
The result was the rich and bountiful feast 
spread beneath a branching mango. Fowls, 
hams, Gruinea-birds, turkeys, flying-fish, butter- 
fish, pastry, tarts, guava jelly, preserved ginger, 
custard apples, pineapples, melons, etc., with 
jorums of lemonade and tamarind water, made 
a feast fit for a king. 

Two dishes prepared especially for the negro 
taste were opossum and agouti, the latter larger 
than a rat and less than a rabbit, somewhat 
resembling both, and eaten by West India 
negroes with the gout of an alderman for turtle. 
A small table of honor was arranged apart for 
the " drivers " or field overseers. These com 
monly were old negroes of tried fidelity, who, 
under the white manager, superintended field- 
work. The single addition of turtle, served 
with rum punch, varied its viands from the 
general cheer. 

The tables were in charge of a number of 
trusted servants, to whom Madame Tourner now 
gave some parting directions, when the company 
proceeded to the lawn in front of the mansion, 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 97 

where, as the boisterous mirth indicated, a large 
assemblage of jovial " darkies " were having a 
" high " time. 

The negro disposition is eminently social and 
convivial, and the beautiful moonlight evenings 
in the tropics are their delight. They are great 
chatterers, and will keep late hours spinning 
yarns and telling " Nancy " stories, or tales of 
ghosts and goblins, which West India negroes 
call "jumbees." The slaves, too, often gave 
"parties" or balls, to which not uncommonly, 
it must in truth be added, the larders and 
wardrobes of their masters and mistresses were 
made to furnish liberal contributions. Dancing 
is a passion, and on these occasions they fre 
quently " do " with skill and grace the prevailing 
styles, which their imitative powers have caught 
from their owners. During the soiree at the 
mansion one might often see the slaves on the 
green beneath the open windows, executing, 
with extra agility and chuckling delight, the 
various "sets" at the call of the musician. 

Near the centre of the lawn, in front of the 
mansion, the carpets had been spread for 
7 



98 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

dancing. The musicians a fiddler, a tambou 
rine-player, and a man beating what is called 
a triangle were seated on an elevated plat 
form, where they did duty with a gravity 
befitting their office. Beneath them was a 
crowd of lively blacks, looking as pleased as 
Punch, and all in holiday rig. The slaves 
were excessively vain of their personal appear 
ance, and, if necessary, would go in rags during 
the week to have something to wear on a, fete 
day or at a " party." The men on this occasion 
wore woollen caps, the dews being heavy and 
dangerous. The women were tricked out in 
different styles of flashing kerchiefs twisted 
into high turbans, gaudy gowns, many-colored 
sashes, and a profusion of cheap ornaments. 

In the midst were the dancers " doing," in 
their turn, Scotch reels and quadrilles with 
intense gout and joyousness. Encircling these 
was a throng of blacks constantly moving in 
and out among themselves and giving vent to 
a thousand gay sallies, cracking their ready 
jokes upon the manners and customs of the 
"buckras," and breaking now and then into 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 99 

loud and glad laughter at some of their witti 
cisms, the point of which it was often difficult 
to see. The jabber was " immense." On the 
outside crowds of little blacks as plump as 
puddings were gambolling and cutting capers 
over the green. 

They were a lively set free and easy, for 
the occasion was privileged, yet perfectly well- 
ordered bubbling over with the merriment 
born of a jovial temperament and superb phy 
sique ; and their healthy, contented, happy 
countenances reflected the care of a benevolent 
master. 

At the instance of her maid, who was a 
reigning belle, and now craved the aid of her 
young mistress in completing her personal 
adornment, fimilie Tourner returned for a few 
moments to the mansion. The Colonel, in 
expectation of a sojourn at the Cape, was con 
ferring with Manager Fauchet in regard to 
plantation affairs; and M. Tardiffe saw the 
coveted opportunity for a word in private with 
Madame Tourner. 

He had keep himself thoroughly informed 



100 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

as to the circumstances both of the elder and 
the younger Pascal, and was cognizant of their 
unsatisfactory condition. This, indeed, was a 
common remark among the Pascals' acquain 
tances. For Henry Pascal he professed friend 
ship, was not unfrequently in his company, 
knew of the Harrison offer, and had discovered 
by adroit and apparently casual inquiries that 
acceptance was not improbable. He often 
dropped in at the Hotel de Ville, it being a 
news centre and resort for men of wealth and 
leisure, and was aware of the elder Pascal's 
arrival and taking apartments an hour after 
the event. Putting all this and the on dits of 
the Cape together, his shrewd and interested 
intelligence had drawn conclusions and con 
cocted insinuations which he was most desirous 
to communicate to Madame Tourner. He 
therefore at once joined her and proposed a 
turn in the grounds. 

" Verily, I must congratulate you," he said. 
" The banquet your kindness has prepared for 
these blacks is really sumptuous." 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 101 

"The Colonel, monsieur, allows me a carte 
blanche on these occasions." 

"I trust, too, madame, your efforts will be 
justly appreciated, and that the black taste may 
not discard your delicacies for 'possum fat and 
agouti." 

The expression, though highly ill-bred, was 
a natural one under the circumstances, and had 
a logical connection in M. Tardiffe's mind. 
His aim was to lodge among Madame Tour- 
ner's thoughts an objection against matching a 
daughter reared in luxury with a man the 
worldly fortunes of whom were in so critical 
a condition as those of Henry Pascal. The 
general idea uppermost was the unwisdom of 
joining things ill-suited for each other, and, 
without reflecting on the impropriety, he seized 
upon the illustration before him, in the spread 
ing of such delicacies before the gross appetites 
of negroes, and not rather allowing their plate 
and palate to accord. 

He had no sooner spoken, however, than he 
perceived the faux pas as being an uncalled-for 
fling at the slave, as well as a stricture upon 



102 1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

Madame Tourner's judgment, and was not 
surprised, therefore, at the evident displeasure 
conveyed both in the substance and the manner 
of her answer. 

" They are negroes and slaves, I know, mon 
sieur, but they have human hearts, and will 
be grateful for at least having offered to them 
what is rare and costly." 

"Pardon me, dear madame; but I was 
reflecting pardon my saying so that the 
times are not the most propitious for revealing 
to slaves the difference between cabin fare and 
the luxury of the mansion." 

It was a clumsy effort to extricate himself, and 
Madame Tourner rejoined with an arch smile : 

" What danger can follow, monsieur, when 
the slave, as you are aware, disdains the higher 
style of living ? " 

" I own the thrust," he replied laughingly. 
" But pray, madame, tell me why mademoiselle 
appears like one bereaved. 'Tis her wont to 
charm us all with her grace and high spirits." 

" I cannot tell, and it troubles me not a little. 
Monsieur Pascal made a hurried visit this 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 103 

forenoon, but I was so busy at the ovens you 
see, monsieur," she parenthetically remarked 
in her winsome way, " I have quite a range 
of aptitudes that he left before I could 
speak with him. Since then Emilie has been 
depressed." 

" Ah! Ah! I perceive an affaire du cceur 
a case of melancholy la maladie sans maladie." 

" I haven't had an opportunity," Madame 
Tourner continued, " of speaking with her fully ; 
and she seems to be reticent. I trust Monsieur 
Pascal brought no alarming news from the 
Cape." 

" I have heard of none," M. Tardiffe replied, 
" except what relates to the Pascals them 
selves." 

" The Pascals ! " cried Madame Tourner 
excitedly, stopping in her walk, and turning 
in astonishment upon the speaker. "What 
can have happened to the Pascals ? " 

" Ah! madame, la langue triafourche" insidi 
ously answered M. Tardiffe. " It repents me 
to have awakened your curiosity, since 'tis mere 
street gossip, and may be unjust to our friends." 



104 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

"It is no curiosity, but matter of deep per 
sonal interest, monsieur ; let me know what 
this gossip is." 

" After all, madame, it scarcely comes within 
the category of ' alarming,' " remarked M. Tar- 
diffe who had reached the point for disclosing 
his beguiling news, but held it back with a kind 
of orator's pause, that he might give it with 
increased emphasis. 

" Explain yourself, Monsieur Tardiffe," spoke 
up his companion with symptoms of impatience. 
" What concerns the Pascals concerns us." 

"Well, Dame Rumor has it, if it must be 
spoken, that Monsieur Pascal is unable to meet 
his obligations and may lose his estates." 

"Mon Dieu! Can it be true?" cried out 
Madame Tourner. " But, monsieur," she added 
with a sudden lowering of tone, "the rumor 
may be an error, or at least overdrawn." 

"It has probably originated," replied her 
guest, "in another rumor that Monsieur Henry 
is about to become a clerk in a Kingston 
counting-room." 



1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 105 

"He has had such an offer, I know," 
remarked Madame Tourner with a serious air, 
and apparently regaining composure. 

"It is surmised," continued M. Tardiffe, 
"that he would not accept so poor a position, 
and one so remote, if his father had cash to 
spare." 

He glanced at his companion, but she said 
nothing and he went on : 

"Monsieur Pascal has left Sans Souci, and 
taken apartments at the Hotel de Ville." 

" Indeed ! " spoke up Madame Tourner. 

"And the on dit is that, under all the cir 
cumstances of the family, he will probably 
emigrate with his son." 

" The Pascals to leave San Domingo and we 
know nothing of it ! Monsieur, it is impossi 
ble!" exclaimed Madame Tourner, again arrest 
ing her steps and facing her companion. " And 
yet," she continued after a moment's considera 
tion, and as if communing with herself, "it 
would explain this abrupt visit and Elmilie's 
dejection." 

"I'm very sorry for the Pascals," remarked 



106 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

M. Tardiffe in his bland, oily way. "But, 
after all, madame, virtue is the only nobility." 

" True, monsieur, true ; yet for those who 
have known affluence to shrink themselves into 
the fittings of poverty is a difficult and a painful 
task." 

" Ah ! madame, Jamaica is a prospering isle, 
and Monsieur Henry is young and capable. 
He will speedily win fortune for mademoiselle." 

"My daughter, Monsieur Tardiffe, has no 
occasion to be solicitous for fortune," answered 
Madame Tourner with dignity. 

" Pardon me, dear madame, mademoiselle is 
richly and doubly endowed, I know, in person 
as in purse." 

For a moment or two Madame Tourner 
remained silent and in thought, when with a 
sudden and remarkable change of manner, 
abruptly answering her own reflections, and 
breaking away as if from a spell, she gaily 
cried : 

" You shall not cloud our ' Crop Over/ Mon 
sieur Tardiffe. That such reverses and pro 
posed changes should exist, and we have heard 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 107 

not a word concerning them is perfectly incredi 
ble, monsieur, and I will give no credence to 
these idle Cape on dits. Come, we will rejoin 
our friends ; they are awaiting us." 

Notwithstanding her assertion of incredulity, 
as the party became one again M. Tardiffe 
was not unobservant of the significant glances 
Madame Tourner gave her daughter, and felt 
satisfied he had lodged in the mind of the 
former some judicious trains of thought. 

West India dews, as has been already 
remarked, are heavy and dangerous, and upon 
the coming up of Madame Tourner with her 
guest the party repaired to the piazza. 

In the meanwhile the negroes had been doing 
fine service at the tables, and were now, in 
jovial bands, returning to the dance. At a 
signal the sounds suddenly ceased, and all 
became expectant, as four young dusky fellows 
took a position on the green, midway between 
the piazza and the carpets, and sang in their 
patois, to a plaintive air and with really fine 
effect : 



108 1791^4 Tale of San Domingo. 

" Me be a nigger-boy, born in de hovel,* 

What plantain da shade from de sun wha da shine ; 
Me learn to dig wid de spade and de shovel, 

Me learn to hoe up de cane in a line. 
Me drink my rum in de calabash oval, 

Me neber sigh for de brandy or wine ; 
Me be a nigger-boy, born in de hovel, 

What plantain da shade from de sun wha da shine. 
Me be a nigger-boy, 
Me be a nigger-boy : 
When me live happy, wha for me repine ? 

" Me neber run from my master's plantation. 

Wha for me run ? Me no want for get lick. 
He gib me house, and me no pay taxation ; 

Food when me famish, and nurse when me sick. 
'Mancipate-nigger, he belly da empty ; 

He hab de freedom ; dat no good for me ; 
My massa good man ; he gib me plenty, 
Me no lub free-nigger better dan he. 
* Me be a nigger-boy, 

Me be a nigger-boy, 
Me happy fellow; den why me want free?" 

It was a delightful incident, expressive of the 
simple truth, and to Colonel Tourner, cognizant 
of the brewing plot, especially pleasing. The 
French planters, generally, were capricious 
masters, by turns excessively indulgent and 
severe. The power to control was in conse 
quence diminished, while their sensual, sybarite 
habits spread an evil example among the slaves, 

* A song current throughout the West Indies in slavery days. 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 109 

and rendered them less controllable. Colonel 
Tourner was a man of pure, unsullied character ; 
a firm, just, and generous master; and the 
tender, sympathetic nature of his wife had 
endeared herself and family to the slaves by a 
thousand kindly little acts in sickness and on 
other occasions. The effect upon them was not 
only an exceptional reputation for character 
and efficiency, but a deep personal attachment 
to their master, to whom not unfrequently they 
would kneel for a blessing when he visited the 
cabins, as he often did, in looking after their 
welfare; and Colonel Tourner felt justified in 
the opinion he had that morning expressed to 
Henry Pascal, that should the negroes rise, he 
was confident his slaves would defend him. 




CHAPTER VI. 
THE OUTBREAK. 

ILE Colonel Tourner's negroes were 
thus regaling themselves and mak 
ing merry, another body had assem 
bled at no great distance off, and for a far 
different purpose. The meeting was at the 
cabin of one Sharper, a sawyer by trade, who, 
like many of the more intelligent negroes, was 
allowed to hire his time, he accounting to his 
master for so much per month. He lived in 
an out-of-the-way spot in a forest, as suitable 
to his trade, at the declivity of the high range 
of hills between Dondon and Grande Riviere. 
His cabin of two rooms was made of wattling, 
plastered on the inside with clay, and roofed 
with a thatch-work of palm, the walls being 
adorned with paper cuts of all shapes and 
110 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. Ill 

sizes, many of bizarre design, and irregularly 
arranged after negro fashion. Here were 
met a score of insurrectionary leaders. They 
dropped in one by one, and having assembled, 
placed sentries, with watchword, upon every 
possible avenue of approach. 

The plot was widespread and well organized, 
the general plan being to murder the plantation 
whites and fire the buildings ; surprise, if pos 
sible, the smaller interior towns, and, when 
pressed, to retire to the mountains, where they 
could concentrate and drill, and secure arms, 
as they hoped, from their Spanish neighbors. 
For a commissariat they looked to the labor of 
their women and the natural bounty of the 
soil. 

The special objects now were to decide upon 
the date and the scope of the impending mas 
sacre. To lessen the chances of discovery it 
was important that the date should be as early 
as possible, allowing time for the runners to 
speed the word. The second day from the 
meeting was accordingly agreed upon, August 
22 the hour, midnight. 



112 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

As for the other question who should be 
the victims? some favored sparing women 
and children. A majority, however, at the 
outset, pressed for indiscriminate massacre, and 
the sentiment became unanimous after an ha 
rangue from a notorious runaway. This fellow 
bore the name of Welcome ; and one Latour 
was the monster master from whose cruelties 
he had fled and who had lost, it was alleged, 
within three years, fifty of his negroes from 
inhumanity. Welcome harangued as follows: 

" Some of you sabe 'bout me. I tell you all. 
My massa, he da sen' me out to hunt he run 
aways. I hunt day an' night, an' me no fin' 
'em. I go home, an', my massa, he da lick- me 
an hour wid a cart lash. De lash, it da go roun' 
my body, an' break de skin eb'ry time. Den, 
my massa, he sen' me out ag'in. I hunt up an' 
down, an' me no fin' 'em. I go home, an', my 
massa, he da lick me ag'in till I faint. I be 
laid up one whole week in de sick-house. Den, 
my massa, he sen' me out ag'in, an' now I be 
runaway, too. 

" I git plenty to eat an' hab good time. But 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 113 

I want fur to see my mammy, Elsee. My 
mammy, she be good to me. She be de only 
one dat lub me. One night I stole in to my 
mammy's cabin ; but she be dead. My massa, 
he say to her, < You sabe where Welcome be ' ; 
an 7 he da lick her, an' he da pour bilin' water 
down her throat. An' my mammy, she be dead, 
an' I be fur blood. Ef we doan lick de buckras, 
you all sabe it'll be de same to de nigger, ef he 
hit sof or ef he hit hard. De buckras will 
lick us an' torment us an' string us up all de 
same. I be fur to hit hard. Ef we doan git to 
be free, we'll hab blood for blood." 

The 22d of August began with sunshine, but 
closed in furious storms. Until noon the day 
was clear and still and the sun shone with un 
usual splendor. An hour later a freshening 
breeze blew from the south-west. Presently, 
in that direction, the sky became overcast. 
The cloud rose with a whitish, clearly-defined 
border, and deepened in color until near the 
horizon it assumed a uniform purplish black, 
through which lightning flashed, and above 
whose line a mass of broken cloud, angrily 
8 



114 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

moving within itself, rolled rapidly forward. 
As it neared the zenith its velocity apparently 
increased. A few spiteful gusts disturbed the 
perfect stillness, when, with abrupt and furious 
onset, the storm burst. Clouds of driven dust 
filled the air. The wind roared through the 
trees, which bent and groaned and lashed their 
strong arms in the struggle of resistance. 
Suddenly the darkness deepened, and the flying 
leaves and branches could scarce be seen. The 
sequence, however, was but a heavy rainfall. 
The fury of the storm had passed ; yet at inter 
vals other storms followed, with lightnings and 
mighty thunderings, making such a night as is 
seldom seen beyond the tropics. Wind and rain 
ceased towards midnight, though the heavens 
remained shrouded. It was an evening typical 
of the frightful passions swelling in the breasts 
of thousands of the blacks, and about to burst 
forth in scenes of uproar, butchery, and beastly 
outrage without a parallel. 

Shortly after midnight confused and dreadful 
rumors of a negro rising began to prevail 
at the Cape. The first intimation were the 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 115 

conflagrations that suddenly started up over 
the Plaine du Nord, as observed from the Vigie, 
or signal port, on the summit of the Morne du 
Cap, the lofty eminence on the southwestern 
outskirts of the city. 

It had been the day appointed for the Tour- 
ners' coming. Till a late hour Henry Pascal 
had remained at the Hotel de Ville, surmising 
that if a start had been made before the storm 
they might possibly arrive after its subsidence. 
Its continued violence, however, dispelled this 
view. His father having retired, he went down 
to the office, and as the storm gave tokens of 
passing off, concluded, before venturing out, to 
await further abatement. The hour was late ; 
besides the drowsy clerk no one else was in, 
and, seating himself, he became buried in his 
own reflections. The non-arrival of the Tour- 
ners strangely oppressed him, and his fancy- 
ings took every possible drift. Madame Tour- 
ner may have interposed objections, he thought, 
or the preparations may not have been com 
pleted ; if the start had been made before the 
storm, where had they found shelter? Sup- 



116 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

pose the delay should prove fatal ; what if the 
negroes should rise to-night ? It would be, he 
thought, a fit night for such work ; and the idea 
took possession of him, and drew around him 
a spell, and the elements grew weird and evil- 
looking, until the flashings and distant thunder- 
rolls from the receding storm seemed in his 
brooding imagination the gleam of knives and 
the groans of the dying. 

The rain had ceased, and rousing himself 
out of such reveries, Henry Pascal sought his 
lodgings in la rue St. Simon. He had slept 
perhaps a couple of hours when a gun from the 
arsenal awoke him. A second brought him to 
his feet in a tumult of apprehension, and, rush 
ing to the window, he learned from a citizen 
hurrying by that the negroes on the Plain were 
murdering the whites and firing the plantations. 
To throw on his clothes and rush out was the 
work of an instant. Fugitives from the im 
mediate estates, affrighted by the conflagrations, 
had arrived, alarm guns were booming, and the 
streets already in commotion. 

Henry Pascal's first care was to rouse his 



1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 117 

father, for he knew the Cape itself was in dan 
ger. Hastening along la rue St. Simon and 
passing into la rue St. Louis, he reached the 
Hotel de Ville to find his father up and expect 
ing him. They were aghast at the dreadful 
fate that most probably had overtaken the 
Tourners. A faint hope remained that the 
Colonel's slaves had proven faithful, and that 
he had escaped with his family to some neigh 
boring town or settlement, as Dondon or Petite 
Ance, whence the fugitives might make for the 
Cape in sufficient numbers for defence before 
the negroes could concentrate. 

Wrung with anguish, Henry Pascal hurried 
forth again to get tidings from the plain. By 
this time the city had become thoroughly 
aroused. Mistrustful of the large mulatto 
element among them, the whites generally 
remained at home under arms, in dread uncer 
tainty awaiting day-break and the action of the 
authorities. Many with friends and kindred 
on the Plain were upon the streets in quest of 
news. Some were making for the Morne du 
Cap, the summit of which commanded an 



118 1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 

extended view. With others Henry Pascal 
sought the thoroughfare by which fugitives 
would enter. Hastily traversing, therefore, 
la rue St. Louis, and turning north into a 
crossing street at the Place Royale, he entered 
the broad la rue Espagnole, along which he 
pressed past the Cimetiere, past the base of the 
Western Morne, till he reached a point to scan 
the Plaine du Nord. Towards the south in 
every quarter the horizon was aglow. What 
scenes were occurring beneath the light of those 
flames ! He stood spellbound, transfixed by a 
horrible fascination. 

Commencing without a sign of warning on a 
plantation owned by the Count de Noe, in the 
parish of Acul, where fourteen negroes mur 
dered the overseers and fired the buildings, the 
rising spread with the utmost rapidity and 
overwhelming force. Excepting Cape Frangois 
and one or two other ports, the entire northern 
province was overrun and at the mercy of fero 
cious and lusty negro bands. Instances were 
not wanting of remarkable devotion to their 
masters, but the general conduct of the insur- 



1791 ^4 Tale of San Domingo. 119 

gents was unexampled for brutality and heart 
rending outrage. Within four days two-thirds 
of the magnificent Plaine du Nord lay in ruins, 
and the wretched remnants of hundreds of 
white families, suddenly reduced from opulence 
to beggary, fled, terror-stricken and barely 
clothed, to the Cape. 

What had been the fate of the Tourners ? 

The day after the "Crop Over" the Colonel 
rode down to the Cape, and finding that Henry 
Pascal had been prompt to make satisfactory 
arrangements, he decided upon bringing over 
his family the following morning. But on the 
eve of departure, even of a temporary character, 
one often finds unexpected things to do, and, in 
the absence of such sources of delay, the Tour 
ners did not prove an exception. Preparations 
had not been completed when it became evident 
that a storm of unusual force was developing. 
The departure was, in consequence, postponed 
till the next day, and everything made ready 
against an early move, to avail themselves of 
the forenoon, which even in the rainy season is 
commonly open. These preparations had kept 



120 1791 ,4 Tale of San Domingo. 

them up late, and, after retiring, the outbursts 
of the elements allowed but a broken rest. 
The cooled air and quietude, however, that 
came with the close of the storm invited repose, 
and Colonel Tourner had fallen into sound sleep, 
when a piercing cry from his daughter smote 
his ear. 

Her anxiety of mind, consequent upon the 
general condition of affairs, had been greatly 
deepened by Henry Pascal's visit and prepara 
tions for flight to the Cape, and this evening, 
after a day of bustle and fatigue, her brooding 
spirit had risen to a state of positive agitation 
at the unexpected delay and their having to 
pass another night in the midst of lurking and 
horrible dangers. The terrors of the storm 
lent their aid, and her imagination became so 
wrought upon that it was long before she could 
catch even fitful sleep. In one of her rousings 
her suspicious ear detected, as she thought, 
footfalls upon the lawn. She rose and looked 
out. The heavens were shrouded, but the moon 
was up and cast a dim light. She could see 
nothing, however, and supposed, as the negroes 



1791 A Tale of San Domingo. 121 

kept late hours, it may have been some one 
passing through the grounds after the storm. 
Examining anew the lower sash of the windows, 
the fastenings of which she had taken the 
precaution to secure, she again sought her 
couch, when presently sounds on the piazza- 
roof startled her. Were they rain-drops shaken 
from the boughs, or the stealthy movements of 
an intruder? With her heart in her mouth 
she started up, and as she drew aside a curtain 
a negro burst upon the sash. She sprang back 
terror-stricken, and with the appalling cry that 
aroused her father. Bounding from the bed, 
he seized his sabre and a brace of heavy double- 
barrelled pistols, as his daughter wildly entered, 
exclaiming that negroes were breaking into her 
room. 

" Be in reach of me with this, if you can, and, 
if I fall, use it upon yourself," he said in a 
breath, thrusting a pistol into her hand (for it 
would be impossible, he knew, in the struggle 
upon him, to control the sabre and more than 
one pistol ; nor could he, being in night-dress, 
secure the other about his person), and rushing 



122 1791 .4 Tale of San Domingo. 

out, for he was a man of courage and a master 
of weapons, he met the foremost negro in the 
hall-way and ran him through, yet not without 
receiving a slash upon the upper left arm. 
Another negro, making at him with an axe, 
fell dead from a pistol-shot within the door- way 
of his daughter's room. At a third, who was 
entering the window, he fired, but in the dim 
light the ball went astray, and the negro, 
adroitly avoiding a sabre-thrust, sprang upon 
him with a yell. Colonel Tourner was a man 
of strength as well as courage, but the left arm 
was helpless from the stab in the muscles, and 
the negro, who was a powerful fellow, had borne 
him to his knees, and was wrenching the sabre 
from him, when he cried out, " Shoot, Emilie!" 
She had kept behind her father, almost 
expiring with terror, yet resolute to help him, 
if she could. She could tell in the dimness he 
was wounded, for his left side was all bloody, 
and when the hand-to-hand struggle began, 
she saw his disadvantage with an awful, 
despairing, sinking dread. But as her father 
went down a tremendous spring of energy 



1791^