Cape Francois.
Three of your letters arriving at the same time, my dear friend, have made me blush for my impatience, and force me to acknowledge that I have wronged you. But your friendship is so necessary to my happiness that the idea of losing it is insupportable. You know what clouds of misfortune have obscured my life. An orphan without friends, without support, separated from my sister from my infancy, and, at an age when the heart is most alive to tenderness and affection, deprived by the unrelenting hand of death, of him who had taught me to feel all the transports of passion, and for whose loss I felt all its despair—Cast on the world without an asylum, without resource, I met you:—you raised me—soothed me—whispered peace to my lacerated breast! Ah! can I ever forget that delightful moment when your care saved me? It was so long since I had known sympathy or consolation that my astonished soul knew not how to receive the enchanting visitants; fleeting as fervent was my joy: but let me not repine! Your friendship has shed a ray of light on my solitary way, and though removed from the influence of your immediate presence, I exist only in the hope of seeing you again.
In restoring me to my sister, at the moment of her marriage, you procured for me a home not only respectable, but in which all the charms of fashionable elegance, all the attractions of pleasure are united. Unfortunately, Clara, amidst these intoxicating scenes of ever-varying amusement, and attended by crowds, who offer her the incense of adulation, is wretched, and I cannot be happy!
You know her early habits have been different from mine; affluence might have been thought necessary to her, yet the sensibility of her heart rejects the futile splendour that surrounds her, and the tears that often stain her brilliant robes, shew that they cover a bosom to which peace is a stranger!
The fortune of her husband was his only advantage. The friend who had been charged with Clara from her infancy had accustomed her to enjoy the sweets of opulence, and thought nothing more desirable than to place her in a situation where she could still command them. Alas her happiness has been the sacrifice of his mistaken, though well meant, intentions. St. Louis is too sensible of the real superiority of his wife not to set some value on that which he derives from his money, and tears of bitterest regret often fill her eyes when contemplating the splendor which has been so dearly purchased. Though to me he has been invariably kind yet my heart is torn with regret at the torments which his irascible temper inflict on his wife. They force her to seek relief in the paths of pleasure, whilst destined by nature to embellish the sphere of domestic felicity.
Cape Francois.
General Rochambeau has given Clara a proof of his attention to her wishes at once delicate and flattering. She dined with a large party at the Government-house, where, as usual, he was entirely devoted to her. After dinner, he led her, followed by the company, to a saloon, that was fitting up for a dining-room. It was ornamented with military trophies, and on every pannel was written the name of some distinguished chief.
On one Buonaparte, on another Frederic, on another Massena, &c.
Clara said it was very pretty, but that Washington should also have found a place there!
A few days after, a grand ball was given, and, on entering the ball-room, we saw, on a pannel facing the door,
Washington, Liberty, and Independence!
This merited a smile, and the general received a most gracious one. It was new-year's eve. When the clock struck twelve, Clara, approaching the general, took a rose from her bosom, saying, let me be the first to wish you a happy new-year, and to offer you les etrennes.
He took the rose, passed it across his lips, and put it in his bosom.
The next morning, an officer called on her, and presented her a pacquet in the name of the general in chief. On opening it she found a brilliant cross, with a superb chain, accompanied by an elegant billet, praying her acceptance of these trifles.
Take it back, she exclaimed, I gave the general a flower, and will accept nothing of greater value.—The officer refused, and, as the eyes of her husband expressed no disapprobation, she kept it.
We have since learned that it is customary to make at this season, magnificent presents, and this accounts for the passiveness of St. Louis on this occasion.
Shortly after, at a breakfast given by Madame A——, Clara appeared with her brilliant cross: the General was there.
When they sat down to table, he offered her an apple, which she declined accepting. Take it, said he, for on Mount Ida I would have given it to you, and in Eden I would have taken it from you.
She replied laughing, no, no; since you attach so much value to your apple I certainly will not accept it, for I wish equally to avoid discord and temptation.
Her husband looked displeased, and withdrew as soon as possible.
On their return home, he told her that her flirting with the General, if carried much farther, would probably cost her too dear. She became serious, and I foresee the approaching destruction of all domestic tranquillity.
Clara, proud and high spirited, will submit to no control. If her husband reposed confidence in her she would not abuse it. But his soul cannot raise itself to a level with that of his wife, and he will strive in vain to reduce her to that of his own.
He has declared that she shall go to no more balls; and she has declared as peremptorily, that she will go where she pleases. So on the first public occasion there will be a contest for supremacy, which will decide forever the empire of the party that conquers.
Their jarrings distress me beyond measure. I had hoped to find tranquillity with my sister, but alas! she is herself a stranger to it.
I have no pleasure but that which the recollection of your friendship affords, which will be dear to my heart whilst that heart is conscious of feeling or affection.
Cape Francois.
The brigands have at length made the attack they so long threatened, and we have been terribly alarmed.
On Thursday last, one party approached the fort before day break, whilst another, passing behind the barrier, which is at the entrance of the plain, unobserved by the guard, surprised fort Belleair, which stands on an elevation adjoining the town, and killed the officer and twelve soldiers. The wife of the officer, who commanded that post, had gone, the day before to stay with her husband. Herself and her child were pierced by the same bayonet. The body of the officer lay across the bed, as if he had died in the act of defending them.
The negroes were advancing silently into the town, when they were discovered by a centinel who gave the alarm.
The troops rushed to arms. The Brigands were repulsed: but those who had taken possession of fort Belleair made a vigorous resistance.
St. Louis, who commands a company in the guarde nationale, was the first on the field. It was discovered that the negroes in the town intended to join those who attacked it from without and to kill the women and children, who were shut up in their houses, without any one to defend them; but the patroles of the guarde d'honneur prevented, by their vigilance, the execution of this design.
At nine o'clock the general sent to tell Clara that the part of the town she lived in being very much exposed, she had better come to his house and he would send her on board the admiral's vessel.
She replied that it was impossible for her to go, her husband having desired her on no account to leave the house; therefore she added, "Here I must stay if I am sure to perish."
The action continued at the barrier and advanced posts during the day. The negroes, depending on their numbers, seemed determined to decide at once the fate of the town, and we passed the day in a situation which I cannot describe.
In the evening the general sent an officer to tell Clara that he had some news from her husband which he could communicate to none but herself.
The first idea that presented itself was, that St. Louis had been killed. She seized my arm and without waiting to take even a veil hurried out of the house.
A gloomy silence reigned throughout the streets. She arrived breathless at the government house. The general met her in the hall, took her gravely by the hand and led her into a parlor.
What have you to tell me? she cried, where is St. Louis?
Calm your spirits said the general. Your agitation renders you unfit to hear any thing! But seeing that his hesitation encreased her distress, he said, laughing, your husband is well, has behaved gallantly, and seems invulnerable; for though numbers have been killed and wounded at his post, he has remained unhurt!
Then why, she asked, have you alarmed me so unnecessarily, and made me come here, when you knew he had desired me not to leave the house? He will never believe my motive for coming, and I shall be killed!
The general strove to soothe her, said that it would be highly improper to pass the night in her house, that several ladies had embarked, and that she must go on board, which she positively declined.
At that moment the officer who had accompanied us, entered, and presenting some papers to the general, they both went into another room.
Directly after the general called Clara. She went, and I followed her. He was alone, and looked as if he thought me an intruder, but I continued at her side.
The papers he held in his hand were dispatches from the camp. He told her that St. Louis would remain out all night, and again requested her to think of her own safety. But she would not listen to his proposal of sending her on board; and, attended by the officer who had accompanied us, we returned home.
Whilst the general was talking with Clara, I examined the apartment, which had been Madame Le Clerc's dressing-room.
The sofas and curtains were of blue sattin with silver fringe. A door, which stood open, led into the bedchamber. The canopy of the bed was in the form of a shell, from which little cupids descending held back with one hand, curtains of white sattin trimmed with gold, and pointed with the other to a large mirror which formed the tester. On a table, in the form of an altar, which stood near the bed, was an alabaster figure representing silence, with a finger on its lips, and bearing in its hand a waxen taper.
The first thing we heard on our return was that a soldier, sent by St. Louis, had enquired for Clara, and not finding her, had returned immediately to the camp.
She was distressed beyond measure, and exclaimed, "I had better go forever, for St. Louis will kill me!"
I endeavoured to console her, though I felt that her apprehensions were not groundless. She passed the night in agony, and awaited the return of her husband in the most painful agitation.
At ten the next morning he arrived, having left his post without orders, and thus exposed himself to all the rigours of a court-martial.
He was trembling with rage, transported with fury, and had more the air of a demon than a man.
I know your conduct madam, he cried, on entering, you left the house contrary to my desire; but I shall find means of punishing you, and of covering with shame the monster who has sought to destroy me!
He seized her by the arm, and dragging her into a little dressing-room at the end of the gallery, locked her in, and, taking the key in his pocket, went to the government house, and without waiting till the officers in the antichamber announced him, entered the room where the general was alone, reclining on a sofa, who arose, and approaching him familiarly said, "St. Louis, I am glad to see you, and was just thinking of you; but did not know that you had been relieved."
I have not been relieved, replied St. Louis, but have left a post where I was most unjustly placed and kept all night, to give you an opportunity of accomplishing your infernal designs. You expected, no doubt, that I would have shared the fate of my brave companions, which I have escaped, and am here to tell you what every body believes but which no body dares utter, that you are a villain!—I know to what I am exposed in consequence of leaving my post. You are my superior, it is true; but if you are not a coward you will wave all distinction, and give me the satisfaction due to a gentleman you have injured.
He then walked hastily away, before the general could recover from his surprise.
The officer, who had accompanied us the night before, followed and attempted to soothe him.
He said that he had been sent by the general to take Clara to his house because the part of the town in which she lived was absolutely unsafe, and that he had used a little stratagem to induce her to come, but that she had absolutely refused staying;—that Mademoiselle, (meaning my ladyship) had gone with her, and that he had not left her till he had conducted her home.
This a little softened the rage of St. Louis! He has a good opinion of this young man, who by the bye, is a charming creature. They entered the house together. I was alone, and joined my assurances to those of the officer, that we had not quitted Clara an instant.
He was now sorry for having treated her so harshly; but did not regret the scene that had passed at the general's.
At this moment a soldier entered, who told him that they had been relieved directly after he had left them, and that no notice had been taken of his departure.
I now learned that St. Louis, with sixty men, had been placed in the most advanced post, on the very summit of the mountain, where they were crowded together on the point of a rock. In this disadvantageous position, they had been attacked by the negroes; forty men were killed; and the troops of the line, who were a little lower down, had offered them no assistance. It being the first time that the guarde nationale had been placed before the troops of the line the common opinion is, that it was the general's intention to have St. Louis destroyed, as it was by his order that he was so stationed, and kept there all night, though the other posts had been relieved at midnight.
St. Louis forgot his rage and his sufferings in the assurance that Clara had not been faithless. He went to the room in which he had confined her, threw himself at her feet, and burst into tears.
Clara, affected by his pain, or ashamed of having so tormented him,—or fatigued with their eternal broils, leaned over him, and mingled her tears with his.
When the violence of her emotion subsided, she entreated him to forgive the inconsiderateness of her conduct, and vowed that she would never again offend him.—But you have destroyed yourself, she continued, the general will never pardon you: let us leave this hated country, where tranquillity is unknown.
After much debate, it was agreed that he should send us to Philadelphia, and that he would follow himself as soon as he had arranged his affairs.
Clara keeps her room and sees nobody, her husband is in despair at parting with her, but proposes following her immediately.
We embark in ten days. What power shall I invoke to grant us favourable winds? Whose protection solicit to conduct me speedily to my native shores, and to the society of my friends?
Cape Francois.
We are still here, my dear friend, and my disappointment and vexation have been so great, that ten days have passed since I have written a single line.
The general, thinking Clara was sent away against her will, and determined to thwart the intentions of her husband, laid an embargo on all the vessels in the port.
St. Louis raved, and swore she should not leave her room till he conducted her on board.
To prevent all intercourse from without, he keeps her locked up in a small room, adjoining her chamber.—Nobody, not even myself, can see her, except in his presence; and thus all confidence is at an end between them.
She weeps continually, and I am afraid the torments she suffers will destroy her health.
St. Louis is unworthy of her: he thinks it possible to force her to love him:—How much more would a generous confidence influence a heart like her's!
Many of his friends have represented to him the impropriety of his conduct. The challenge he gave general Rochambeau filled every body with terror, for it exposed him to certain death. To have left his post without orders was a crime equally serious; and, if the general has passed them both over in silence, it is supposed that his vengeance only slumbers for a time to be more sure in its effect.
He thinks Clara attached to the general. I know she is not! her vanity alone has been interested. To be admired was her aim, and she knew that, by attracting the notice of the general in chief, her end would be accomplished. She succeeded even beyond her wishes, but it has been a dangerous experiment; and will cost her, I fear, the small portion of domestic peace she enjoyed.—Domestic felicity she never knew! I am convinced that she has never been less happy than since her marriage!
Nothing can be more brutal than St. Louis in his rage! The day of his affair with the general, he threw her on the ground, and then dragged her by the hair:—I flew to her, but his aspect so terrified me that I was obliged to withdraw: and when his fits of tenderness return he is as bad in the other extreme. He kneels before her, entreats her pardon, and overwhelms her with caresses more painful to her than the most terrible effects of his ill-humour. And then his temper is so capricious that he cannot be counted upon a moment. I have seen him oblige her to stay at home and pass the evening alone with him, after she had dressed for a ball.
This does not accord with the liberty French ladies are supposed to enjoy. But I believe Clara is not the first wife that has been locked up at St. Domingo, yet she excites little sympathy because she has not the good fortune to be one of the privileged.
In Continuation.
Certain events, which shall be related, prevented me from finishing my letter. The same events have produced an entire change in our affairs, and we are now fixed at St. Domingo for some time.
The embargo is raised:—the general in chief is gone to Port-au-Prince; all the belles of the Cape have followed him. Clara is at liberty, and her husband content!
As soon as we had an opportunity of conversing together, Clara related to me occurrences which seem like scenes of romance, but I am convinced of their reality. Under the window of the little apartment in which she was confined, there is an old building standing in a court surrounded by high walls. The general informed himself of the position of Clara's chamber, and his intelligent valet, who makes love to one of her servants, found that it would not be difficult to give her a letter, which his dulcinea refused charging herself with. He watched the moment of St. Louis's absence, entered the deserted court, mounted the tottering roof, and, calling Clara to the window, gave her the letter, glowing with the warmest professions of love, and suggesting several schemes for her escape, one of which was, that she should embark on board a vessel that he would indicate, and that he would agree with the captain to put into Port-au-Prince, whither he would speedily follow her.—Another was, to escape in the night by the same window, and go to his house, where he would receive and protect her. But the heart of Clara acknowledged not the empire of general Rochambeau, nor had she even the slightest intention of listening to him.
If her husband knew all this it would cure him, I suppose, of his passion for locking up. But, incapable of generosity himself, he cannot admire it in another, and would attribute her refusal of the general's offers to any motive but the real one.
How often has she assured me that she would prefer the most extreme poverty to her present existence, but to abandon her husband was not to be thought of. Yet to have abandoned him, and to have been presented as the declared mistress of General Rochambeau, would not have been thought a crime nor have excluded her from the best society!
Madame G——, who has nothing but her beauty to recommend her, (and no excess of that) lives with the admiral on board his vessel. She is visited by every body; and no party is thought fashionable if not graced by her presence, yet her manners are those of a poissarde and she was very lately in the lowest and most degraded situation. But she gives splendid entertainments: and when good cheer and gaiety invite, nobody enquires too minutely by whom they are offered.
Clara laughs at the security St. Louis felt when he had her locked up. Yet in spite of bolts and bars love's messenger reached her. The general's letters were most impassioned, for, unaccustomed to find resistance, the difficulty his approach to Clara met added fuel to his flame.
You say, that in relating public affairs, or those of Clara, I forget my own, or conceal them under this appearance of neglect. My fate is so intimately connected with that of my sister, that every thing concerning her must interest you, from the influence it has on myself; and, in truth, I have no adventures. I described in a former letter, the gallantry of the French officers, but I have not repeated the compliments they sometimes make me, and which have been offered, perhaps, to every woman in town before they reach my ear. But a civil thing I heard yesterday, had so much of originality in it that it deserves to be remembered. I was copying a beautiful drawing of the graces, when a Frenchman I detest entered the room. Approaching the table he said. What mademoiselle do you paint? I did not know that you possessed that talent. Vexed at his intrusion, I asked if he knew I possessed any talents. Certainly, he replied, every body acknowledges that you possess that of pleasing. Then looking at the picture that lay before me, he continued: The modesty of the graces would prevent their attempting to draw you. Why? I asked. Because in painting you, they would be obliged to copy themselves.
With all this bavardage receive my affectionate adieu!
Cape Francois.
We have had some novelty here my dear friend, for general Closelle, who commands during the absence of the general in chief, has taken a new method to amuse the people, and courts popularity under the veil of religion. He gives no balls, no concerts; but he has had the church fitted up, and the fete dieu has been celebrated with great order, magnificence and solemnity.
At break of day the fete was announced by the firing of cannon: at eight o'clock the procession left the church, and passed through the principal streets, which were strewn with roses; the fronts of the houses were decorated with green branches, formed into arches, intermingled with wreaths of flowers. The troops under arms were placed in double ranks on each side of the street. The procession was opened by a number of young boys dressed in white surplices, singing a hymn in honour of the day. They were followed by young girls, crowned with myrtle, bearing in their hands baskets of flowers, which they strewed on the ground as they passed along. The band of music followed, and then the priests, bearing golden censors, in which were burning the most exquisite perfumes, preceded by four negroes, carrying on their shoulders a golden temple, ornamented with precious stones, and golden angels supporting a canopy of crimson velvet, beneath which the sacred host was exposed in a brilliant sagraria. After them marched general Closelle, and all the officers of the civil and military departments. The procession was closed by a number of ladies, covered with white veils. As the temple passed along, the soldiers bent one knee to the ground; and when it returned to the church, high mass was sung, accompanied by military music.
Clara and myself, attended by her everlasting beau, major B——, went all over the town, and so fatigued our poor cavalier, that he actually fell down; but he is fifty years old, and at least five hundred in constitution; he has been very handsome, has still the finest eyes in the world, is full of anecdote, and infinitely amusing.
General Closelle is very handsome, tall, and elegantly formed, but not at all gallant, consequently not a favourite with the ladies; and for the same reason, a great one with the gentlemen, particularly those who are married. Since the departure of the general in chief he has put every thing on a new footing: the fortifications are repairing, and block-houses are erecting all round the town.
A few days since the negroes attacked a block-house which was nearly finished. A detachment commanded by general Mayart, was instantly sent out to support the guard. As he passed under my window, I told him to hasten and gather fresh laurels. He replied, that at his return he would lay them at my feet; but, alas! he returned no more. The negroes were retreating when he arrived: a random shot struck him, and he fell dead from his horse. This young man came from France about a year ago, a simple lieutenant; he was very poor, but being powerfully protected, advanced rapidly in the army; and, what is infinitely surprising, thirty thousand dollars, and a great quantity of plate, were found in his house at his death.
Madame G——, a pretty little Parisian, who was his favourite, is inconsolable. She faints when any body enters the room, and repeats his name in gentle murmurs. In the evening she languishingly reposes on a sopha placed opposite the door, and seems to invite by the gracefulness of her attitudes, and the negligence of her dress, the whole world to console her.
The most distressing accounts arrive here daily from all parts of the island.
The general in chief is at Port-au-Prince, but he possesses no longer the confidence of the people. He is entirely governed by his officers, who are boys, and who think only of amusement. He gives splendid balls, and elegant parties; but he neglects the army, and oppresses the inhabitants.
A black chief and his wife were made prisoners last week, and sentenced to be shot. As they walked to the place of execution the chief seemed deeply impressed with the horror of his approaching fate: but his wife went cheerfully along, endeavoured to console him, and reproached his want of courage. When they arrived on the field, in which their grave was already dug, she refused to have her eyes bound; and turning to the soldiers who were to execute their sentence, said "Be expeditious, and don't make me linger." She received their fire without shrinking, and expired without uttering a groan. Since the commencement of the revolution she had been a very devil! Her husband commanded at St. Marks, and being very amorously inclined, every white lady who was unfortunate enough to attract his notice, received an order to meet him. If she refused, she was sure of being destroyed, and if she complied she was as sure of being killed by his wife's orders, which were indisputable. Jealous as a tygress, she watched all the actions of her husband; and never failed to punish the objects of his amorous approaches, often when they were entirely innocent.
How terrible was the situation of these unfortunate women, insulted by the brutal passion of a negro, and certain of perishing if they resisted or if they complied.
This same fury in female form killed with her own hand a white man who had been her husband's secretary. He offended her; she had him bound, and stabbed him with a penknife till he expired!
How often, my dear friend, do my sighs bear my wishes to your happy country; how ardently do I desire to revisit scenes hallowed by recollection, and rendered doubly dear by the peaceful security I there enjoyed, contrasted with the dangers to which we are here exposed. Yet the Creoles still hope; for
They think it impossible that this island can ever be abandoned to the negroes. They build houses, rebuild those that were burned, and seem secure in their possession. The measures of general Closelle inspire them with confidence; and they think that if he was commander in chief, all would go well. But when general Rochambeau was second in command, he was a favorite with every body; and it is only since he has attained the summit of power that he has appeared regardless of public opinion! He is said to have the talents of a soldier, but not those of a general. Whatever may be the fate of this country, here I must wait with patience, of which mulish virtue I have no great share, till some change in its affairs restores me to my own. Yet when there, I can hope for nothing more than tranquillity. The romantic visions of happiness I once delighted to indulge in, are fading fast away before the exterminating touch of cold reality.—
But whilst your friendship is left me life will still have a charm.
Cape Francois.
It is not often in the tranquillity of domestic life that the poet or the historian seek their subjects! Of this I am certain, that in the calm that now surrounds us it will be difficult for me to find one for my unpoetical pen.
Clara is dull, St. Louis contented, and I pass my time heavily, complaining of the fate which brought me here, and wishing to be away. We go sometimes to the concerts given by monsieur d'Or, where madame P——, a pretty little Parisian sings; and where madame A——, accompanied by her daughter, presides with solemn dignity. This lady, who is at present a most rigid censor of female conduct, and not amiable either in person or manners, lived many years with monsieur A——, who raised her from the rank of his housekeeper, to that of his mistress. But he fell in love with another lady, whom he was going to marry. The deserted fair one threw herself in despair at the feet of Toussaint, with whom she had some influence, and so forcibly represented the injustice of the proceeding, that Toussaint ordered A—— to be confined, saying he should not be released till he consented to marry the lady he had so long lived with. A—— resisted some time, but at length yielded, and exchanged his prison for the softer one of her arms.
Before the revolution there was a convent at the Cape. The nuns in general were very rich, and devoted themselves chiefly to the education of young ladies: some of their pupils, I have heard, would have done honour to a Parisian seminary.
When religion was abolished in France, the rage for abolition, as well as that of revolutionizing reached this place, and the nuns were driven from the convent by Santhonax, a name which will always fill every Frenchman's breast with horror: he caused the first destruction of the Cape. On the arrival of general Galbo, who was sent to supercede him, he said, "if Galbo reigns here, he shall reign over ashes," and actually set fire to the town. The convent was not then burned; but the society was dissolved, the habit of the order laid aside; and some of the nuns, profiting by the license of the times, married. One of these became the wife of a man who, during the reign of the negroes committed crimes of the deepest die. He has not yet received the punishment due to them; but he awaits in trembling the hour of retribution. I often see her. She has been very handsome, but her charms are now in the wane; she has a great deal of vivacity, and that fluency of expression in conversing on the topics of the day, which gives to a French woman the reputation of having beaucoup d'esprit.
I know also the lady abbess, who is an excellent woman of most engaging manners. She lives in a miserable chamber, and supports herself by her industry. The greatest part of the community have perished; and general Le Clerc found it more convenient to have the convent fitted up for his own residence, than to restore it to its owners, the government house having been entirely destroyed.
There are also here two hospitals, neither of which have been injured, though the town has been twice burned. The Hopitale de la Providence is an asylum for the poor, the sick and the stranger; the building is decent: but the Hopitale des Peres de la Charite is superb, surrounded by gardens, ornamented with statues and fountains, and finished with all the magnificence which their vast revenues enabled its owners to command.
The streets of the town cross each other at right angles, like those of Philadelphia, and there are several public squares which add greatly to the beauty of the place. In the centre of each is a fountain, from which the water, clear as crystal, flows into marble basons. The houses are commodious, particularly those of two stories, which have all balconies; but the streets are narrow, and the heat would be intolerable if it was not for the relief afforded by bathing, which is here an universal custom, and for the sea-breezes which, rising every afternoon, waft on their wings delicious coolness.
The mulatto women are the hated but successful rivals of the Creole ladies. Many of them are extremely beautiful; and, being destined from their birth to a life of pleasure, they are taught to heighten the power of their charms by all the aids of art, and to express in every look and gesture all the refinements of voluptuousness. It may be said of them, that their very feet speak. In this country that unfortunate class of beings, so numerous in my own,—victims of seduction, devoted to public contempt and universal scorn, is unknown. Here a false step is very rarely made by an unmarried lady, and a married lady, who does not make one, is as rare; yet of both there have been instances: but the faux pas of a married lady is so much a matter of course, that she who has only one lover, and retains him long in her chains, is considered as a model of constancy and discretion.
To the destiny of the women of colour no infamy is attached; they have inspired passions which have lasted through life, and are faithful to their lovers through every vicissitude of fortune and chance. But before the revolution their splendor, their elegance, their influence over the men, and the fortunes lavished on them by their infatuated lovers, so powerfully excited the jealousy of the white ladies, that they complained to the council of the ruin their extravagance occasioned to many families, and a decree was issued imposing restrictions on their dress. No woman of colour was to wear silk, which was then universally worn, nor to appear in public without a handkerchief on her head. They determined to oppose this tyranny, and took for that purpose a singular but effectual resolution. They shut themselves up in their houses, and appeared no more in public. The merchants soon felt the bad effects of this determination, and represented so forcibly the injury the decree did to commerce, that it was reversed, and the olive beauties triumphed.
But the rage of the white ladies still pursued them with redoubled fury, for what is so violent as female jealousy? The contest however was unequal, and the influence of their detested rivals could not be counteracted. Some of them were very rich. There is a friendliness and simplicity in their manners which is very interesting. They are the most caressing creatures in the world, and breathe nothing but affection and love. One of their most enviable privileges, and which they inherit from nature, is that their beauty is immortal—they never fade.
The French appear to understand less than any other people the delights arising from an union of hearts. They seek only the gratification of their sensual appetites. They gather the flowers, but taste not the fruits of love. They call women the "beau sexe," and know them only under the enchanting form of ministers of pleasure. They may appear thus to those who have only eyes; by those who have hearts they will always be considered as sacred objects of reverence and love. A man who thinks and feels views in woman the beneficent creature who nourished him with her milk, and watched over his helpless infancy; a consoling being who soothes his pains and softens his sorrows by her tenderness and even by her levity and her sports. But here female virtue is blasted in the bud by the contagious influence of example. Every girl sighs to be married to escape from the restraint in which she is held whilst single, and to enjoy the unbounded liberty she so often sees abused by her mother. A husband is necessary to give her a place in society; but is considered of so little importance to her happiness, that in the choice of one her inclination is very seldom consulted. And when her heart, in spite of custom, feels the pain of being alone, and seeks an asylum in the bosom of her husband, she too often finds it shut against her; she is assailed by those whose only desire is to add another trophy to their conquests, and is borne away by the torrent of fashion and dissipation till all traces of her native simplicity are destroyed. She joins with unblushing front, the crowd who talk of sentiments they never feel, and who indulge in the most licentious excesses without having the glow of passion to gild their errors. These reflections were suggested by a most preposterous marriage, at which I was present. A girl of fifteen was sacrificed by her grandmother to a man of sixty, of the most disagreeable appearance and forbidding manners. The soul of this unfortunate victim is all melting softness; she is of the most extraordinary beauty; she is now given to the world, and in those who surround her she will find the destroyers of her delicacy, her simplicity, and her peace.
Cape Francois.
To give you some idea of the despotism that reigns in this country, I must relate an event which, though it originated with Clara, was certainly carried farther than she either expected or desired.
On our arrival here she engaged a young Frenchman to give her lessons in his language, which she spoke tolerably before, but in which she wished to acquire perfection. After he had attended her some time she perceived that his lessons were considerably lengthened and that he chose for his themes the most amorous and affectionate pieces. Some observations made on the subject, drew from him a confession of the extraordinary passion she had inspired. After laughing at his folly, she dismissed him, and thought of him no more; but shortly after was informed that he had circulated reports highly injurious to her. General Rochambeau, whose ears they had reached, asked her from whence they arose? and she related to him with great simplicity the whole affair. The general said he should be embarked, and the next morning he was actually sent on board an armed vessel which was to sail in a few days. Whilst there he wrote a pathetic and elegant little poem in which he represented himself as the victim of the general's jealousy, who thus sought to destroy him for having interfered, and not unsuccessfully, with his pursuits. This paper was sent to the man with whom he had lived, and who handed it to every body. Clara was in despair. She informed the general in chief that he had rendered the affair, which was at first only ridiculous, seriously provoking: in consequence of which the house of this man was surrounded by guards, who, without giving him time to take even a change of clothes, conducted him on board the vessel where his friend was confined; it sailed immediately for France, and his house and store, which were worth at least thirty thousand dollars became the prey of the officers of the administration: but the poem was heard of no more.