Leclerc was succeeded at St. Domingo by General Rochambeau, a son of the Comte de Rochambeau, who twenty years before had commanded the French corps which enabled Washington to capture Cornwallis at Yorktown. A brave officer, but known to be little fit for administration, Rochambeau was incompetent for the task that fell on him. Leclerc had warned the Government that in case of his own retirement he had no officer fit to replace him,--least of all Rochambeau, who was next in rank. Rochambeau wrote to inform the First Consul that thirty-five thousand men must be sent to save the island.[13] Without a new commander-in-chief of the highest ability, a new army was useless; and meanwhile Rochambeau was certain to waste the few thousand acclimated soldiers who should form its nucleus.

The First Consul found himself in a difficult and even dangerous situation. Probably the colonial scheme had never suited his tastes, and perhaps he had waited only until he should be firm in power in order to throw off the tutelage of Talleyrand; but the moment had arrived when his tastes coincided with policy. A second failure at St. Domingo would destroy his own credit, and disgust both the army and the public. Abandonment of the island was equally hazardous; for it required the abandonment of French traditions and a confession of failure. Retirement from St. Domingo was impossible, except under cover of some new enterprise; and as Europe stood, no other enterprise remained for France to undertake which would not lead her armies across the Rhine or the Pyrenees. For this undertaking Bonaparte was not yet ready; but even had he been so, it would have offered no excuse for abandoning the colonies. The ocean would still have been open, and St. Domingo within easy reach.

Only one resource remained. Bonaparte told no one his plans; but he was not a man to hesitate when decision was needed. From the day when news of Leclerc’s death arrived, during the first week of January, 1803, the First Consul brooded over the means of abandoning St. Domingo without appearing to desert intentionally a policy dear to France. Talleyrand and Decrès were allowed to go on as before; they gave instructions to Bernadotte, and hurried the preparations of Victor, whom the ice and snow of Holland and the slowness of the workmen held motionless; they prepared a reinforcement of fifteen thousand men for Rochambeau, and Bonaparte gave all the necessary orders for hastening the departure of both expeditions. As late as February 5, he wrote to Decrès that fifteen thousand men had been, or were about to be, sent to St. Domingo, and that fifteen thousand more must be ready to sail by the middle of August.[14] Yet his policy of abandoning the colonial system had been already decided; for on January 30 the “Moniteur” produced Sebastiani’s famous Report on the military condition of the East,--a publication which could have no other object than to alarm England.[15]

Livingston was quick to see the change of policy; but although he understood as much as was known to any one, he could not count with certainty on the result.[16] Not even Joseph and Lucien knew what was in their brother’s mind. Talleyrand seems to have been elaborately deceived; even as late as February 19 he was allowed to instruct General Beurnonville, the French ambassador at Madrid, to express “the warm satisfaction which the last acts of sovereignty exercised by the King of Spain in Louisiana have given to the First Consul.”[17] The last act of sovereignty exercised by Spain in Louisiana had been the closure of the Mississippi. Before Beurnonville could obey this order, Godoy, hastening to anticipate possible interference from France, promised Pinckney, February 28, that the entrepôt should be restored. King Charles’s order of restitution bore date March 1, 1803; Beurnonville’s note, urging the King to sustain Morales, bore date March 4, and March 10 Don Pedro Cevallos replied to Talleyrand’s congratulation in a tone so evasive as to show that Godoy was again deceiving the First Consul.[18] Cevallos did not say that the right of deposit had ten days before been restored; he contented himself with mentioning the reasons alleged by Morales for his act, adding at the close the empty assurance that “in every way his Majesty prizes highly the applause of the French government.” In January, only a few weeks before, Godoy had told Beurnonville, with unconcealed satisfaction, that Bonaparte should not have Florida,--although without Florida the town of New Orleans was supposed to be of little value. In February he snatched away what he could of New Orleans by replacing the Americans in all their privileges there.

Livingston plied the French officials with arguments and memorials; but he might have spared himself the trouble, for Bonaparte’s policy was already fixed. The First Consul acted with the rapidity which marked all his great measures. England at once took Sebastiani’s Report as a warning, and began to arm. February 20 Bonaparte sent to the Corps Législatif his Annual Report, or Message, which spoke of Great Britain in language that could not be disregarded; finally, March 12, Livingston saw a melodramatic spectacle which transfixed him with surprise and excitement.[19] The scene was at Madame Bonaparte’s drawing-room; the actors were Bonaparte and Lord Whitworth, the British ambassador. “I find, my Lord, your nation want war again!” said the First Consul. “No, sir,” replied Whitworth; “we are very desirous of peace.” “I must either have Malta or war!” rejoined Bonaparte. Livingston received these words from Lord Whitworth himself on the spot; and returning at once to his cabinet, wrote to warn Madison. Within a few days the alarm spread through Europe, and the affairs of St. Domingo were forgotten.

Bonaparte loved long-prepared transformation-scenes. Such a scene he was preparing, and the early days of April, 1803, found the actors eagerly waiting it. All the struggles and passions of the last two years were crowded into the explosion of April. At St. Domingo, horror followed fast on horror. Rochambeau, shut in Port au Prince,--drunken, reckless, surrounded by worthless men and by women more abandoned still, wallowing in the dregs of the former English occupation and of a half-civilized negro empire,--waged as he best could a guerrilla war, hanging, shooting, drowning, burning all the negroes he could catch; hunting them with fifteen hundred bloodhounds bought in Jamaica for something more than one hundred dollars each; wasting money, squandering men; while Dessalines and Christophe massacred every white being within their reach. To complete Bonaparte’s work, from which he wished to turn the world’s attention, high among the Jura Mountains, where the ice and snow had not yet relaxed their grip upon the desolate little Fortress and its sunless casemate, in which for months nothing but Toussaint’s cough had been heard, Commander Amiot wrote a brief military Report to the Minister of Marine:[20] “On the 17th [April 7], at half-past eleven o’clock of the morning, on taking him his food, I found him dead, seated on his chair near his fire.” According to Tavernier, doctor of medicine and chirurgien of Pontarlier, who performed the autopsy, pleuro-pneumonia was the cause of Toussaint’s death.

Toussaint never knew that St. Domingo had successfully resisted the whole power of France, and that had he been truer to himself and his color he might have worn the crown that became the plaything of Christophe and Dessalines; but even when shivering in the frosts of the Jura, his last moments would have glowed with gratified revenge, had he known that at the same instant Bonaparte was turning into a path which the negroes of St. Domingo had driven him to take, and which was to lead him to parallel at St. Helena the fate of Toussaint himself at the Château de Joux. In these days of passion, men had little time for thought; and the last subject on which Bonaparte thereafter cared to fix his mind was the fate of Toussaint and Leclerc. That the “miserable negro,” as Bonaparte called him, should have been forgotten so soon was not surprising; but the prejudice of race alone blinded the American people to the debt they owed to the desperate courage of five hundred thousand Haytian negroes who would not be enslaved.

If this debt was due chiefly to the negroes, it was also in a degree due to Godoy and to Spain. In the new shifting of scenes, Godoy suddenly found himself, like Toussaint eighteen months before, face to face with Bonaparte bent on revenge. No one knew better than Godoy the dangers that hung over him and his country. Aware of his perils, he tried, as in 1795, to conciliate the United States by a course offensive to France. Not only did he restore the entrepôt at New Orleans, but he also admitted the claims for damages sustained by American citizens from Spanish subjects in the late war, and through Don Pedro Cevallos negotiated with Pinckney a convention which provided for a settlement of these claims.[21] Although he refused to recognize in this convention the spoliations made by Frenchmen within Spanish jurisdiction, and insisted that these were in their nature claims against France which Spain was not morally bound to admit, he consented to insert an article copied from the expunged Article II. of the treaty of Morfontaine, reserving to the United States the right to press these demands at a future time.