Toussaint Louverture Page 16

  Over the summer, Sonthonax repeatedly urged Biassou and Jean-François to join him, but they eventually refused. Louverture, whom Sonthonax also contacted, replied that he “wanted a king.” Sonthonax sneered at African monarchists who fought “to avenge our good king Louis XVI,” but the concept of a republican government seemed nebulous to the rebels. It was not made any clearer by the fact that Sonthonax, after dismissing the colonial assembly and Governor Galbaud, essentially ruled as a dictator in the manner of the Committee of Public Safety in Paris.17

  Pressed by the black population of Cap to proclaim “general liberty,” Sonthonax, on July 11, offered to free the spouses of any black soldiers who joined the French Army. By defecting, Louverture could have gotten France to recognize his second wife, Suzanne, as free, which had been his goal all along. And yet, he again turned down French offers, because he blamed the “republican traitors” for beheading Louis XVI.18

  Undeterred, Sonthonax continued to expand his policy of emancipation for the rest of the summer. Unlike previous French colonial administrators, who had often purchased plantations or married creole heiresses, he had no financial or personal stake in slavery. In fact, he took on a mixed-race partner whom he eventually married. Interracial marriages had not been technically illegal in prerevolutionary Saint-Domingue, but they carried such a social stigma that it was unthinkable for a prominent official to marry across the color line. Sonthonax’s personal life offered a powerful illustration of the changing times and of his commitment to racial egalitarianism.19

  Louverture saw the slave rebellion that he had midwifed slip out of his control as Sonthonax became the embodiment of black liberty. On Bastille Day 1793, Sonthonax organized a ceremony in Cap in which he planted a tree of liberty topped by a liberty pike and a liberty cap, a triptych that symbolized freedom and that would later become the centerpiece of the Haitian coat of arms. Rumor had it that he intended to abolish slavery altogether, which would secure his place in history as Saint-Domingue’s Great Emancipator. Meanwhile, in an attempt to be recognized as commander-in-chief of all the black auxiliary units of the Spanish Army, Biassou was spreading stories that he was the Revolution’s true father because Louverture had been too cowardly in August 1791 to claim that role for himself. Two years into the Revolution, few knew that he had conceived it.20

  Concerned by Sonthonax’s and Biassou’s attempts to upstage him, Louverture publicly announced for the first time that the slave revolt was his brainchild. “I was the first to favor [liberty], a cause I always upheld,” he revealed in August 1793. It was also apparently during this period that he acquired the cryptic nickname of “Louverture,” his misspelled rendering of the French for “the opening.” Theories on the origins of his name abound: authors have variously attributed it to his battlefield exploits, the gap between his teeth, and Vodou tradition. In fact, remembered a comrade-in-arms, he simply wanted to publicize that “he was the first who stepped forward to get the slaves of the North to revolt.” The nickname was a way to brand himself as a revolutionary trailblazer.21

  There was also an element of personal vindication in Louverture’s belated naming. For five decades he had been known as Toussaint Bréda after his owners. Though legally required to adopt an African-sounding name after his manumission (such as Guinou, his grandfather’s last name), he had not done so, most likely because he wanted no reminder of his African roots. Only after 1791 did he acquire a full French identity, first as “Monsieur” Toussaint, and now as Toussaint Louverture. This was a proud moment in his life. He now had a name that he could pass on to his offspring. He would introduce himself as “Toussaint Louverture” consistently for the rest of his life, often in the face of racist enemies who persisted in calling him “Toussaint” as if he were still a slave.22

  Sonthonax’s ever more sweeping proclamations forced Louverture to hasten his political evolution. In August 1793, he wrote several letters to introduce himself to the world. One of these became known as the proclamation of Camp Turel, after the place from which it was written, and is often quoted to underline his supposed lifelong commitment to black liberty: “I am Toussaint Louverture, my name may be known to you,” he began. “I want liberty and equality to reign in Saint-Domingue. I worked from the beginning for its existence.”23

  Read in isolation, this passage implies that Louverture was and had always been an advocate of general emancipation; the rest of the document, however, implies that the letter was addressed to free people of color and whites, not slaves, and that the term “liberty” referred to the political rights of a privileged minority, not universal emancipation. Other letters he wrote around the same period are marked by ideological inconsistency, mixing God, monarchy, and the rights of men.24

  On August 29, the same day that Louverture delivered his ambiguous proclamation in Camp Turel, Sonthonax put an end to four years of French equivocation. After asserting, per the French Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, that “MEN ARE BORN AND REMAIN FREE AND EQUAL IN RIGHTS,” he abolished slavery in northern Saint-Domingue altogether. Polverel did the same in the West and South of Saint-Domingue in October, at which point all the slaves of the colony became officially free under French colonial law.25

  Sonthonax publicized his decree widely. He translated it into Spanish and Kreyòl and sent printed copies to the rebel leaders in Spain’s employ. Louverture got his own copy. No other European power had abolished slavery in the Western Hemisphere, and only a few states in the northern United States had. Even the physical document itself was exciting: at a time when Louverture’s patrons in Santo Domingo had no printing press at their disposal and relied exclusively on handwritten manuscripts, the public proclamations printed in Saint-Domingue looked very modern by comparison.

  And yet Louverture was not completely won over. The idea of general liberty clearly intrigued him, but his loyalty to the Bourbons was just as strong. “His politics, character and conduct are easy to understand,” remembered his son. “A former slave, he loved freedom passionately. The grandson of an African king, he could not hate kings and nobles.”26

  Louverture’s sharp political instincts also gave him pause. How could he trust a man like Sonthonax, who had come to Saint-Domingue to end the slave revolt and had once “sworn before the Supreme Being to maintain slavery forever”? The governor of Saint-Domingue immediately denounced the emancipation decree as null and void because it violated Sonthonax’s instructions. Sonthonax could not even get his decree implemented in Gros-Morne, an area nominally under his control. It was not clear, for that matter, whether he was still a commissioner: the man who had appointed him, Louis XVI, was dead, and there were persistent (and, as it turned out, accurate) reports that the French government had recalled him. His enemies did their best to further undermine Sonthonax by spreading rumors that he had died and that his fellow commissioner Polverel was about to join him in the ground. The very future of France, which was at war with most of Europe’s monarchies, seemed bleak; Louverture heard that France had already lost the war in Europe. “There is a big ruckus in France,” an old slave replied when he was approached by Sonthonax’s envoys. “When it is over, they’ll come to take away this liberty at gunpoint.”27

  Better, then, to wait and determine whether abolition was here to stay before committing to the French camp. Sonthonax’s decree was a “trick” and a “chimera,” warned Biassou. “This liberty is good for nothing,” agreed another rebel leader, echoing a common belief among the rebel ranks that no one but a master or a king had the legal right to free a slave. Makaya and Pierrot, two relatively minor leaders, were the only ones who took up Sonthonax’s offer—only to have second thoughts later.28

  The rebels’ entry into Spanish service proved highly beneficial to their Spanish patrons. They brought 10,000 warriors with them, a formidable army by Caribbean standards. Jean-François led the largest force (6,000), but Louverture, who served under Biassou, was the most active. In a few months, he carved out a terri
tory that encompassed the towns of Dondon, Marmelade, Verrettes, Petite-Rivière, and Plaisance in the interior of the northern province; he capped off his achievements in December 1793 by conquering the port of Gonaïves on the western coast, which cut French Saint-Domingue in two and gave the Spanish access to the Caribbean Sea. More skilled as a politician than as a soldier, Louverture often won his victories by convincing his foes to join his side. This would always remain his preferred strategy, along with his willingness to pardon his adversaries—including white planters, whom he would then enlist in his army. Louverture’s handler Matías de Armona, the Spanish commander of the central border region, was usually wary of black auxiliary troops, but he was so impressed by Louverture’s achievements that he rewarded him with ornamental swords and bullfights in his honor. This delighted a man who had longed for recognition all his life.29

  Governor García requested that Madrid manufacture three engraved gold medals for Jean-François, Biassou, and a now-forgotten rebel leader named Hyacinthe to show his gratitude for the rebels’ help. By the time the medals arrived, Hyacinthe had been hanged for double-crossing the Spanish, but García had become so taken with “the good deeds of another black named Toussaint Louverture,” who “worked with efficiency and skill, unlike those of his color,” that García selected him to receive the third medal.30

  The rebel force’s transformation from marauding slave band to professional army intensified under Spain’s leadership. The Spanish colony of Cuba sent officers to drill the troops, while Biassou’s general staff drafted formal regulations and job descriptions for the entire chain of command, all the way down to child drummers. Meanwhile, Jean-François married his common-law wife, Charlotte, so that it could not be said that a Spanish general was living in sin. She received silk stockings from Governor García as a wedding present; he received a stern lecture from Father Josef Vásquez about marital fidelity. No more demoiselles for him.

  One thorny issue—Who led the rebel army?—remained. In the summer of 1793, Jean-François visited Biassou’s encamped army and distributed cash to his troops in an overt attempt to steal them. Biassou countered by sending a personal envoy to Governor García to denounce Jean-François as a man of “many words but few deeds.” He wanted to get himself recognized as “generalissimo” of all the conquered territories. A Spanish officer noted that Biassou’s “only job is to drink aguardiente [hard liquor],” so one suspects that Louverture was orchestrating this political maneuvering behind the scenes. Tensions between the two rebel factions reached a point that Jean-François briefly had Louverture imprisoned in retaliation.31

  Afraid of losing the war due to infighting among the rebel factions, Spain organized a formal reconciliation ceremony in November 1793. The experience must have been awe-inspiring for men just two years removed from the sugar fields of Saint-Domingue. Standing at attention in front of an audience of Spanish officers, translators, and witnesses, Biassou, Jean-François, and Louverture declared that they were “honored to be the faithful vassals” of the king of Spain and swore “never to speak again . . . of past disputes.” The Spanish formally delineated the border between Biassou’s and Jean-François’s territories, and their feud eased thereafter. But the ceremony left one issue unresolved: Louverture’s status. Though he was asked to pledge his personal loyalty to Spain, as if he led his own force, the document listed no area under his command, which implied that he served at Biassou’s discretion.32

  Louverture’s decision to join the Spanish Army transformed the lives of his wife and sons, who established their residence in the town of San Rafael while he campaigned in the central region of Saint-Domingue. Aside from occasional forays to Cap to attend Mass, the Louvertures had spent their entire lives in Haut-du-Cap; they now lived in another colony altogether. They had been nobodies; now they were the family of one of the most powerful figures in Santo Domingo. They had been slaves, but Spain had now likely provided them with official freedom papers. Louverture was away for months at a time because of the war, but this period marked the first time, after the subjugation of slavery and the upheavals of the slave revolt, that he could lead a family life that was almost normal.33

  Louverture, who a decade earlier did not have enough money to buy back his relatives’ freedom, began accumulating significant wealth in real estate. He and Suzanne acquired plots in San Rafael, San Juan de la Maguana, and Bánica, as well as a cattle ranch near Hinche. They later bought or leased several coffee plantations near Ennery and Gonaïves on the French side, making them one of the richest couples in Hispaniola. Louverture estimated his personal wealth around that period at over half a million francs (the new name for the French livre), an impressive sum when the death of two slaves worth 3,000 colonial livres had doomed his coffee-growing venture at an earlier stage of life.34

  During the winter of 1793–1794, local colonists encouraged Britain to invade Saint-Domingue and nullify the emancipation decree. In short order the British took over the main ports of the western and southern coasts. Jérémie, Môle Saint-Nicolas, and Saint-Marc fell one after the other. The Spanish received reinforcements from Cuba and Puerto Rico and seized the major port of Fort-Dauphin (today Fort-Liberté) in the North, after which they prepared to launch an amphibious assault on France’s main stronghold in Cap. Sensing that victory was within grasp, Governor García traveled from the colonial capital of Santo Domingo to Fort-Dauphin to witness it firsthand.

  Yet a crisis was brewing. It did not seem fair to Louverture that Jean-François and Biassou, whom he had recruited into his plot in August 1791, were his seniors in the Spanish Army. He claimed that they were lightweights who lived well at Spain’s expense while he did most of the actual fighting. Spanish expense reports indicate that there was some truth to his recriminations: when selecting gifts for their allies, the Spanish chose fine muslin and scarlet cloth for Jean-François, and barrels of wine and rum for Biassou, while Biassou’s staff—which is to say Louverture—received quills, ink, and paper. Why should he bow for a fop and a sot?35

  Louverture’s relationship with Jean-François had been frayed since the incident at Ouanaminthe in August 1792; the white colonists of Santo Domingo made sure that his relationship with Biassou, a boisterous but endearing character, eventually soured as well. One evening, when Biassou and Louverture were dining together, Biassou received a letter from a planter named Laplace, which the illiterate Biassou handed to Louverture to read. As he deciphered the letter, Louverture was “surprised to learn that Mr. Laplace, who was writing, was urging [Biassou] to be careful and that I was an old Capuchin who would supplant him while praying to the good Lord.” Biassou assured Louverture that he paid no attention to Laplace’s persiflage, but Louverture did not forget the incident. Over time, he came to view his old friend as “a weak man, fragile, and ignorant,” as well as “impetuous, disorganized, and forgetful.”36

  Laplace was one of the many exiled French planters who returned in 1793–1794 to the Spanish-controlled areas of Saint-Domingue where slavery was still legal. Their arrival upset a balance of power that had tilted heavily in favor of black officers. Some of the planters, whose political common sense remained remarkably deficient from the start to the end of the Revolution, expected to recover their slaves and immediately send them back to the fields upon their return. In Le Borgne, planters tried to reinstitute the use of the whip; in Petite-Rivière, a local commander recommended killing all foremen and one-tenth of the workforce whenever a crime was committed on a plantation. Louverture’s officers also complained that the Spanish soldiers who were supposed to “offer us protection” were involved in the “vile commerce” of buying slaves in Saint-Domingue and exporting them to Cuba. The feud between Louverture and Biassou, which had begun as a simple clash of egos, turned into a profound ideological dispute over the morality of the slave trade and, ultimately, the goals of the Revolution.37

  A trusted adviser of Biassou proposed to institute a type of serfdom enforced by rebel soldiers that wou
ld offer an alternative to the extremes of slavery and emancipation. Though he would adopt a similar labor system ten years later, Louverture did not think the political climate was right for it presently. If plantation work was restored too quickly, he feared, the independent rebel groups whose loyalty was still up for grabs would surely side with the abolitionist French.38

  The cost of these disputes became evident in March 1794, when some of Biassou’s men re-enslaved the wives and children of some of the soldiers in Louverture’s army and then blamed Louverture. Louverture insisted that he had taken no part in this “odious trade,” but one of his subordinates blamed him nonetheless and staged an ambush. Eight men died by Louverture’s side, including his brother Pierre.39

  Louverture fled to the Spanish headquarters in San Rafael and asked for redress, but he received little sympathy. Juan Lleonart, who had replaced Matías de Armona as commander of the border region, had long been convinced of Louverture’s “perfidy.” A proud noble with forty-one years’ service in the army, Lleonart also disliked having to cater to former slaves. When new upheavals broke out among black auxiliary units, Lleonart blamed Louverture, jailed his nephew Moïse, and put his wife and sons under house arrest.40

  Louverture’s loyalty to his kin was one of the few nonnegotiable principles in his long and complex life. By killing his brother Pierre and imprisoning his relatives, his rivals had crossed a line. He chose to defect.

  Spanish contingents were few in the border regions, but battalions from Cuba were expected shortly and there was no time to lose. In April 1794, Louverture opened negotiations with the French, armed plantation slaves opposed to Biassou, and even made plans to assassinate his old friend. These were dangerous gambits. Angered by the defection of some minor rebel chiefs, Governor García had recently decreed that anyone communicating with the enemy would be sentenced to death, and Biassou was known to “chop off heads like the Emperor of Morocco.”41