[Zyx]

. . . On November 16th the blacks and Mulattoes concentrated for a last attack on Le Cap, and the strongly fortified posts surrounding it.

Clairveaux, the Mulatto, was in command. and with him was Capois Death, a Negro officer, so called on account of his bravery. From early morning the national army attacked. In the afternoon under a crossfire of musketry and artillery Capois led the assault on the blockhouses of [Breda] and Champlin, shouting 'Forward, forward!' The French were strongly entrenched and drove off the blacks again and again only to see them return to the attack with undiminished ardour. A bullet knocked over Capois' horse. Boiling with rage he scrambled up and, making a gesture of contempt with his sword, he continued to advance. 'Forward, forward!'

The French, who had fought on so many fields, had never seen fighting like this. From all sides came a storm of shouts. 'Bravo! Bravo!' There was a roll of drums. The French ceased fire. A french horseman rode out and advanced to the bridge. He brought a message from Rochambeau. 'The Captain-General sends his admiring compliments to the officer who has just covered himself with so much glory.'(83) Without a shot fired from the blacks, the horseman turned and rode back tot he blockhouse and the battle began again. The struggle had been such a nightmare that by now all in San Domingo were a little mad, both white and black."

. . .

(83) -- Sannon, Histoire de Toussaint-L'Ouverture, Vol. III, p. 195.

I find this story quite telling on human nature. At times, when I decide to do something extraordinary and marvelous, people, regardless of their station, gawk in amazement. Deep down we are animals in love with animals.

[Potemkin]

From all sides came a storm of shouts. 'Bravo! Bravo!' There was a roll of drums. The French ceased fire. A french horseman rode out and advanced to the bridge. He brought a message from Rochambeau. 'The Captain-General sends his admiring compliments to the officer who has just covered himself with so much glory.'(83) Without a shot fired from the blacks, the horseman turned and rode back tot he blockhouse and the battle began again.

That was a different and, in some ways, better age.