Master of the Crossroads - Madison Smartt Bell [363]
“Yes,” said Toussaint. “I know.”
Absently he touched the knot which secured his headcloth at the nape of his neck. Vincent looked into his molasses-colored, red-rimmed eyes. From outside the door there was a scraping of chairs as other people found seats in the waiting room.
“But truly,” Vincent said, with a gesture at the dispatch case. “France supports you absolutely, as it has always supported the cause of the blacks.”
Toussaint masked the beginning of his smile with the usual movement of his hand. Sober, he opened the dispatch case and lifted out the documents. Raising the papers near to his eyes, he began to sort through them.
“You see,” Vincent told him. “All is in order.”
“Yes,” said Toussaint. He laid down the sheaf of papers and stood up, moving around the desk. “I believe I ought to bring in our friends.”
He drew the double doors inward, glanced around the anteroom, and beckoned to the doctor and Pascal, leaving the others to wait. Pascal pushed the doors shut behind him, while the doctor embrace Vincent with a genuine warmth. Tousaint, who had returned to his seat behind the desk, lifted a document from among the dispatches and began to read aloud.
Citizens, a constitution which has not been able to sustain itself against multiple violations is now replaced by a new pact designed to affirm liberty.
Article ninety-one carries the principle that the French colonies shall be ruled by special laws.
That disposition derives from the nature of things, and from the difference of climates.
Toussaint slid one sheet of paper beneath another and went on reading from the top of the next page. His voice was harsh and surprisingly loud.
The difference of habits, of morals, of interests, the diversity of soil, agriculture, production, requires various modifications.
One of the first acts of the new legislature will be the drafting of new laws designed to rule you.
Toussaint stopped, and turned back to the previous page.
“Special laws,” he said. “This idea has been put forward before in Saint Domingue.” He looked at Vincent. “Though of course, that was before you had ever visited our colony.” He licked his tongue and leafed through the papers. “I see among the members of the new government names I recognize from former times,” he said. He laid down the papers and covered them with his hand. “You assure me,” he said, “that these gentlemen support the cause of the blacks, as they have always done.”
The three white men shifted their feet and looked over each other’s shoulders. All three of them knew perfectly well that the men Toussaint mentioned had been slave owners and ferocious defenders of their practice. The doctor wondered if Vincent knew (as Toussaint implied he did not) that the whole question of “special laws” had been a device to maintain slavery in the colonies at the same time that the French Revolution was proclaiming the universal rights of man.
“I have heard that the First Consul has a wife,” Toussaint remarked.
“Josephine,” Vincent said. “A lady worthy in every respect of her husband’s great capabilities. Though I can attest that she is not only intelligent and perspicacious, but perfectly natural in her manner.”
“Ah,” Toussaint said, leaning back and stroking his jawline. “Then you are acquainted with her.”
“That is my honor.” Vincent coughed. “Only slightly, to be sure.”
“She is herself a Creole, I have heard,” Toussaint went on. “She has her substance from some great plantation in the colonies. And so she must have a particular understanding of the need for special laws to govern them.”
“General, you are exceedingly well informed,” Vincent said, while Pascal and the doctor exchanged a private look of horror. “Of course, you also know that numerous such Creole whites serve loyally in your own armies, as we speak.”
Toussaint stood stock still. His hand floated evenly, suspended a quarter-inch above the desktop. He had disappeared completely into his wide interior reservoir of stillness. Such moments always gave the doctor a combination of anticipation and fear.