Exterior. Day. A guerrilla camp in the mountains. A tent, a SERGEANT propped against a rock, eating. A shadow covers him. He looks up, eating. CHRISTOPHE.
SERGEANT
You are a major, I see.
(Pause.)
What army?
(CHRISTOPHE turns away, bewildered. Then, back to the SERGEANT.)
These days I can’t tell one army from another.
CHRISTOPHE
Where is General Toussaint L’Ouverture?
(Exasperated, he explodes.)
Attention! Salute.
(The SERGEANT rises, spits.)
SERGEANT (Leisurely)
… You in the wrong army, friend. You want Toussaint?
He gone to fight for the Spanish in San Domingo.
CHRISTOPHE
The Spanish?
SERGEANT
Dee Spaneesh. You know. Spaneesh. Sí.
CHRISTOPHE
Against his own country?
Why?
(There is a howl of laughter. DESSALINES emerges from the rear of the tent tying his trousers with a cord.)
DESSALINES
Why? Ask Moise, his nephew. They went together.
Sonthonax offered him “the protection of the Republic”
If he will bring his army to his side.
(He laughs.)
CHRISTOPHE
Dessalines? You don’t remember?
In the Place des Armes … years ago …
DESSALINES
The waiter. Yes. You’re a soldier now.
A major.
CHRISTOPHE
I thought the time had come to fight together.
DESSALINES
You can read?
CHRISTOPHE
No.
DESSALINES
This sergeant can.
Listen to this from our esteemed commander.
Read. I admire that old bald-headed son of a bitch!
SERGEANT (Reading.)
The blacks want a king, and they will stop fighting
Only when that king is recognized.
DESSALINES
A king!
He is a royalist. All of this was for nothing.
(He gestures.)
He has printed another message for the armies.
CHRISTOPHE
A king?
SERGEANT (Reading.)
Brothers and friends. I am Toussaint L’Ouverture, my name is perhaps known to you. I have undertaken vengeance. I want liberty and equality to reign in San Domingo. I work to bring them into existence. Unite yourselves to us, brothers, and fight with us for the same cause …
(DESSALINES looks out at the deserted camp.)
DESSALINES
I turned to have a piss and they were gone.
Signed Toussaint L’Ouverture.
You know something?
We are going to join him.
(He walks over to the SERGEANT, whose eyes are closed with exhaustion. He strips away his chevrons. The SERGEANT looks up, startled. A sword point slashes his cheek. He remains still.)
This …
(He holds up the chevrons.)
Was when you served that coachman.
(He throws it away.)
That is when you serve me …
(He points with his sword to the bleeding scar.)
(Fade-out.)
Scene 22
Exterior. Day. Smoke. Noises far. A camp. Dark, overcast sky. SOLDIERS, some wounded, returning from battle. DESSALINES emerges from a tent, an empty bottle in his hand, drunk.
DESSALINES
There must be one hundred thousand yellow niggers slaughtered there.
Burn, burn! There’s no more Les Cayes.
We have destroyed Rigaud!
(Passes the bottle, hugs the SERGEANT. He dances a drunken dance, then stops, tottering as … CHRISTOPHE arrives, muddy, tired. They watch the inferno.)
CHRISTOPHE
This is not war.
DESSALINES
It will do for now.
(TOUSSAINT enters, MOISE with him.)
Some rum?
TOUSSAINT (Washing his hands.)
I hate excess.
DESSALINES
Ho, ha! He kills ten thousand mulatto citizens
And shrugs his shoulders and says he hates excess!
I love this hypocrite!
(He drunkenly embraces TOUSSAINT.)
TOUSSAINT
Enough!
(He paces angrily.)
I come from an exhausting fight and find
My two best generals getting drunk like sergeants.
Collect your troops. We’re marching out of here.
You too, General Moise.
(CHRISTOPHE, DESSALINES, MOISE exit.)
O God, to find in the centre of this whirlwind
Some core of quiet.
(Enter two SOLDIERS with CALIXTE-BREDA.)
SOLDIER
We found this one.
TOUSSAINT
Calixte? Monsieur Calixte?…
(To the SOLDIERS)
Leave us alone … Monsieur Calixte …
CALIXTE-BREDA
And General Toussaint, not true?
I have walked for a week in the litter of your armies,
Passed through the fields burnt, rooted up
By army of wild pigs …
TOUSSAINT
Pigs! My soldiers!
CALIXTE-BREDA
I stepped across dead children in the streets,
God in heaven, Toussaint. Hell is not worse.
(He rushes to a table and seizes TOUSSAINT’s pistol. Hoists, aims pistol.)
O God, give me the strength to shoot this monster.
TOUSSAINT
God. Do not speak of God, Monsieur Calixte.
I cannot think of God. Where was God in those years
When we were shipped and forced to bear our excrement,
Were peeled alive, pestered with cannibal ants,
Where was God?
(He sits on a camp stool, weeping with rage and exhaustion.)
I have learnt to pick up a dead child
On my sword as you would lift an insect.
I learnt this.
But when we tried, when we tried,
Where, where was your heart? Your God?
(CALIXTE-BREDA is also weeping. The love between them pours out its bewilderment.)
CALIXTE-BREDA
Toussaint, what is all this,
What is happening to the world? To us?
When will there be peace?
TOUSSAINT
Do you know what peace means to me, monsieur?
It is a rag soaked in blood I must squeeze dry
Before there can be peace. And then
My generals say, Toussaint,
Leave him to clean it. Like your stables …
(Enter DESSALINES, CHRISTOPHE.)
DESSALINES
Who is this fucking white? A spy?
TOUSSAINT
I was his coachman.
DESSALINES
Coachman? Is he offering you your old job?
Look, this is not a fucking coachman, you white bitch,
This is General Toussaint L’Ouverture, commander in chief.
Kneel! On your knees! Kneel! Kiss his fucking foot!
CALIXTE-BREDA
So these are the great generals. Is this Dessalines?
And you. You are General Henri Christophe.
DESSALINES
Yes, yes, white man, this is Dessalines,
Who ripped the white heart from the flag of France.
Tell them you see him when you reach in hell.
TOUSSAINT
I command here, Jean Jacques.
(MOISE enters.)
MOISE
We ready to march.
CHRISTOPHE
Well?
(To TOUSSAINT)
Well?
TOUSSAINT
Look, you! Both of you, I will not be pushed! I will not.
br /> DESSALINES
He hates excess.
CALIXTE-BREDA
Did you kill my son? Answer me that.
(Silence.)
TOUSSAINT
Take him, Sergeant.
SERGEANT
And …
DESSALINES
And shoot him, hang him, anything.
We have an army waiting for this ruin.
(The SERGEANT waits. TOUSSAINT in the tent. He is weeping.
Outside, the army begins its march. The drums, the orders, the chanting. The tent flap lets in light and the SERGEANT enters. POMPEY, manacled, is behind him, with another SOLDIER.)
SERGEANT
General, you forget to tell us what to do with him.
(TOUSSAINT looks up wearily.)
TOUSSAINT
See that the body of the white is buried.
Let the priest say what he has to say over it.
SERGEANT
Yes, my General.
TOUSSAINT (Rising with a groan.)
It is yes, Comrade General.
It is always yes, comrade this and comrade that …
SERGEANT
Yes, Comrade General.
(TOUSSAINT walks up to POMPEY.)
TOUSSAINT
You saw what I did. You saw what I had to do?
(POMPEY nods.)
Are you afraid of me, too, Pompey?
(POMPEY is silent.)
You hid him, for all those years.
I suppose they would call you a good nigger.
You saw what I have had to do.
All that out there.
I myself, I thought war would be so … neat.
(Pause.)
I want to wage peace. To plant, where men fell.
Did we burn Belle Maison, too? Is it still there?
POMPEY
Oui, Comrade General …
TOUSSAINT
And the stables, sweet dung,
And the great rooms intact?
POMPEY
It is good land.
TOUSSAINT
You loved it more than me, compère.
POMPEY
I would not say that, Comrade General.
TOUSSAINT
Where is Yette?
(POMPEY shakes his head, in tears.)
You loved her, too, Monsieur Pompey.
And Belle Maison. It is yours now.
I’ll write an order. We have to start … continue.
Wait. I will write an order giving you the estate.
You will manage it. You loved it the most.
POMPEY
I do not understand, Comrade General.
Mine? All that wide land?… Mine?
TOUSSAINT
It is yours. I will draw up the papers.
The land. Work it. Find Yette. And you both,
Together, slowly work it. You agree, don’t you,
Jean Jacques?
(He embraces DESSALINES.)
POMPEY (Stepping near.)
M’sieu Toussaint.
TOUSSAINT
Toussaint, Pompey. No. If you please.
Let him go, Sergeant. Give him a mule,
Food. Point the mule’s head towards …
Anywhere … but away from here. This madness.
(He leads POMPEY away.)
DESSALINES
Mais qui qualité moune i’croit moi y’est?
CHRISTOPHE
I don’t know. What kind of person, Jacko?
DESSALINES
All this shit comes from speaking French like Frenchmen!
He “thou’s” me. I’m not his subordinate
Or his familiar. His tu is too distant.
“Et toi, Jean Jacques,” his arm around my shoulder,
Drawing me into his heart. I hate his heart,
I’d rip it from its cage and spit on it.
Do “thou” agree, waiter?
CHRISTOPHE
It’s because thou can’t read.
DESSALINES
I can read faces. That’s all I need to read.
CHRISTOPHE
Read mine. Tell me what I will be after the war.
I can’t read either. But I can see you, Jacko,
In a tight coat making speeches to Parliament.
DESSALINES
I don’t want any more mouth-music about parliaments.
They just waiting till the war is finished, those
Ragtag and bobtail bunch of ragged blackbirds
In cravats and frock coats saying they’re an Assembly,
Sitting on branches and calling themselves a Senate.
That’s what you want? Me in a cravat and jacket
Making speeches that would make a statue sleep?
Senator Dessalines? Representative Dessalines?
I’d quicker go back to burning beef on a spit
And herding cows.
CHRISTOPHE
That was the revolution.
We fought it for the people, for the plebiscite.
DESSALINES
What words! What vocabulary! What nonsense!
Plebiscite! What is that? What is the language
To an idiot scratching his head in the country
And furrowing his forehead like a marmoset?
Words for parrots! We are tribesmen, compère,
Congolese, Arrabas, we have chiefs, we have kings,
No plebiscite! Mulatto words! Senate, plebiscite!
You think Boukmann would have said it? Smile!
If we surrender to this kind of language,
We surrender to their idea of civilisation,
And that way, in spite of victory, I tell you,
We would have won nothing. We will remain
One hundred, two hundred years from now, waiters,
Maids, servants, parrots, and monkeys. Plebiscite!
They will make mulattos of everybody.
Earth-coloured people who produce nothing.
I would slaughter every one of them again.
CHRISTOPHE
This was a military operation, Jacko,
That Toussaint ordered. And I follow orders.
DESSALINES
Come on, don’t get your orders mixed up, waiter.
You used to serve them at the Auberge de la Couronne.
All of the trouble before the revolution
And all the problems after the revolution
Have come from this uncertain race, the mulattos,
From the impenetrable, rock-headed bourgeoisie,
Who, because they have hair like red wire, eyes
The colour of grey stones, would rather die
Than be called black. Well, since that’s what they want,
Let them die, I’m giving them what they want.
They can go to heaven happy, and then us.
They won’t see us anymore. We’ll be in hell.
CHRISTOPHE
I don’t know. I think we in hell already, mate.
(They exit.)
Scene 23
France. NAPOLEON dictating. He screams at GENERAL LECLERC.
NAPOLEON
Who is this man? This gilded African? These are your orders: “General Leclerc, follow your instructions exactly, and the moment you have rid yourself of Toussaint, Christophe, Dessalines, and the principal brigands, and the masses of the blacks have been disarmed, send over to the continent all the blacks and mulattos who have played a role in the civil troubles … Rid us of these gilded Africans, and we shall have nothing more to wish.” Fini.
(Pause. At the window.)
Now we shall see who rules the New World!
ACT TWO
“Go, meet the angry kings…”
—Seneca
Scene 1
A BUGLER, in French uniform, blows his sunset call, then leaves the battlement. The CHORUS enters. As she sings, to a slow drumbeat, sick FRENCH SOLDIERS are brought in on litters.
CHORUS (Singing.)
Toutes c??
?est soldats français
Malades. Eux bien malades,
Ni ça ka prier Dieu
Ni ça qui ka rêver
C’est l’enfers eux rivées
La fièvre ka fait eux fous
Eux ka déchirer rades
Eux ka craser com’ poux
Is sad, is very sad.
The army under Leclerc,
Their general, every day
Like flies they falling sick
With fever, yellow fever.
They tearing off their clothes.
The fever have them weak.
Some dreaming they in hell.
La guerre, c’est pas chose belle.
(She exits to the drumbeat.)
(Saint-Domingue: Interior. Afternoon. An army hospital. LECLERC in bed, sweating. He turns his head towards the mountains. PAULINE enters, closes the door gently behind her. She is carrying a basin with cracked ice, a napkin.)
LECLERC
I know how this bores you.
How you hate … sickness.
Like your brother, Napoleon.
Our short, great Emperor.
The corporal.
You have always done everything dutifully,
You measure the exact quantity of love, and no
More. I should be grateful. The Sister of my
Emperor.
PAULINE
You’re tiring yourself.
(She mops his brow.)
LECLERC
When you are weak, helpless like this,
You know what strength is.
PAULINE
Sleep.
LECLERC (Putting her hand away.)
I’m afraid. Send in my secretary.
(Pause. The heat. The soft wind.)
PAULINE
Don’t be afraid, I love you. I wish you were well.
(LECLERC turns away, tears in his eyes. PAULINE looking through the window at the afternoon mountains.)
I wish you were in France.
It would be simpler.
(LECLERC turns his head aside to sleep. PAULINE watches him. Her face. She rises, takes up the basin. She goes to the window. She closes the window carefully. She exits behind a screen.)
Scene 2
Another part of the hospital. ANTON, asleep. PAULINE enters the room. She agitates her loosened bodice gently and blows down the cleft of her bosom. She passes the damp cloth gently over her breast, then she shuts the door.
LECLERC’S VOICE