The Haitian Trilogy: Plays: Henri Christophe, Drums and Colours, and The Haytian Earth (30 page)

                                             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.

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.
)