ct-
2;
a
MEMOIR
PIERRE TOUSSAINT,
BORN A SLAVE
ST. DOMINGO
THE AUTHOR OP " THREE EXPERIMENTS IN LIVING," " SKETCHES OF THE
LIVES OP THE OLD PAINTERS," " FAMILIAR SKETCHES OP
SCULPTURE AND SCULPTORS," ETC.
SECOND EDITION.
BOSTON:
CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY,
111 Washington Street.
1854.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by
Crosby, Nichols, and Company,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
cambridge:
metcalf and company, stereotypers and printers.
PART FIE ST.
The records of distinguished characters are
multiplied around us: the statesman who has
toiled night and day for his country is held
in grateful remembrance;— the hero who has
fought for the land of his home and people
justly wins the laurels that are showered upon
him; — the scholar who devotes his pen to
the instruction of his fellow-beings, the poet,
and the historian gradually build for them¬
selves monuments. But there is one class
whose silent accumulation of good deeds is
not computed, but which is daily increasing
the amount of human happiness, and whose
influence is like that of the crystal stream
which wanders through the meadow, adding
1
2
memoir of
to its uncounted portion of wild-flowers and
verdure. Of such a one we would speak in
the simple, unexaggerated language which
corresponds to the subject of this memoir.
Pierre Toussaint was born in the island
of St. Domingo, in the town of St. Mark, on
the Plantation de Latibonite, which belonged
to Monsieur Berard. The grandmother of
Toussaint, Zenobe Julien, was a slave in the
family, and selected as a wet-nurse for the
oldest son. This maternal office she also per¬
formed for his sister.
It was customary in the West Indies for
people of fortune to send their children
abroad, to secure to them better influences
than they could obtain on a plantation.
Sometimes, at the age of four and five years,
sons and daughters were separated from ten¬
der parents, with a degree of heroic sacrifice
for which nothing but the importance of the
measure could give their parents resolution.
M. Berard early decided to send his son to
Paris to be educated; and to supply, as far as
possible, the tenderness of a mother, Zenobe
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
3
Julien was selected to accompany him, and
to remain with him several months. This
proof of the father's confidence in the bond¬
woman sufficiently demonstrates the reliance
which both parents placed on her. When she
returned to St. Domingo, it was to conduct
the two daughters to Paris, who were to be
placed at a boarding-school.
On leaving them there, she again returned
to St. Mark and resumed her attendance on
her mistress. The parents so fully estimated
the worth of this faithful domestic, that, as a
reward for her fidelity and a proof of their
entire confidence, they gave her her freedom.
They well knew that her attachment to them
formed the strongest bonds. John Berard
constantly wrote to her from Paris, sending
her presents, and retaining his early affection.
Zenobe had a daughter whom she called
Ursule. As the little girl increased in years,
she became more and more useful to Madame
Berard, and was finally adopted as her wait¬
ing-maid and femme de chambre.
The subject of our memoir, Pierre Tous-
4
MEMOIR OF
saint, was the son of Ursule, and became the
pet of the plantation, winning all hearts by
his playfulness and gentleness.
His grandmother, Zenobe, was particularly
attached to him; yet when Monsieur and
Madame Berard concluded to rejoin their
children in France, and called on Zenobe to
accompany them, she did not hesitate for a
moment, but gave them her free obedience,
and cheerfully acceded to their wishes; for
they no longer had the right to command.
For the fifth time the faithful attendant
crossed the ocean, — a more adventurous and
lengthened voyage than now, — and after see¬
ing her master and mistress settled in Paris,
returned again to St. Mark. Here she had
the happiness of passing the evening of her
life in the service of her nursling, John Berard,
who came back to reside on his father's plan¬
tation after he had completed his studies,
leaving his two sisters with his parents.
Pierre Toussaint was born before the elder
Berard quitted the country, and Aurora, his
youngest daughter, stood godmother to the
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
5
infant slave. She was a mere child, and he
could have no recollection of the ceremony j
but as he grew older, he became more and
more devoted to his little godmother, fol¬
lowing her footsteps, gathering for her the
choicest fruits and flowers, and weaving ar¬
bors of palms and magnolias. Toussaint's
happiness was much increased by the birth
of a sister, who was called Rosalie.
We can scarcely imagine a more beautiful
family picture; it was a bond of trust and
kindness. Slavery with them was but a
name.
About the time of Pierre Toussaint's birthf
1766, and several years later, the island of St.
Domingo, or Hayti, as it was usually called,
tvas in its most flourishing state. The French
colony was then at the height of its prosper¬
ity. The tide of improvement had swept over
the land ; forests had been cleared, marshes
drained, bridges built over rivers, torrents
converted into picturesque waterfalls. The
harbors were made safe and commodious, so
that large vessels could ride at anchor. Beau-
6
MEMOIR OF
tiful villas and cottages bordered the sea,
while palaces and magnificent public build¬
ings adorned the interior. Hospitals were
built; fountains refreshed the air. Scarcely
could imagination reach the luxury of this
island, which seemed to contain in its bosom
the choicest treasures of nature. Such an
earthly paradise could not fail to attract for¬
eigners. The French were proud of their col¬
ony, and it became a fashion with them to
emigrate to the island. Some settled as
planters, others passed to and fro at their
pleasure, promoting commerce, good-will, and
the arts of refinement.
The terrible events which followed this
flourishing era are too painful to record; yet
we can hardly forbear touching upon the his¬
tory of Toussaint L'Ouverture, though bearing
no other connection with the subject of our
memoir than accidentally arises from similarity
of name, color, country, and being both born
in slavery, and on the same river. Toussaint
L'Ouverture, so famous in history, was born in
1745, about twelve years before Pierre Tous-
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
7
saint, but had arrived at mature life before he
became conspicuous, and was till then only
distinguished for his amiable deportment, his
humanity, and the purity of his conduct. His
discriminating master, Comte de Noe, early
perceived the power of his intellect, and had
him instructed in reading, writing, and arith¬
metic; and he allowed him the use of his
books, from which he culled a surprising
amount of knowledge. It is well known,
that, in the insurrection of the negroes, he
refused all participation, until he had effected
the escape of M. Bayou (to whom he was
coachman) and his family to Baltimore, ship¬
ping a large quantity of sugar for the supply
of his .immediate wants.
The subsequent career of Toussaint L'Ou-
verture was a noble one. His superior ca¬
pacity gave him complete ascendency over
the black chieftains, while his natural endow¬
ments of manner and person inspired respect
and deference, and enabled him to keep in
check their wild and revengeful passions.
In 1797 Toussaint L'Ouverture received a
s
MEMOIR OF
commission from the French, government of
commander-in-chief over the armies of St.
Domingo. From 1798 until 1801 the island
continued peaceable and tranquil under his
sway. His measures were mild and prudent,
but his discipline was strict. In 1801, when
the independence of Hayti was proclaimed, he
sent his two sons to France for an education.
Bonaparte sent them back some time after,
accompanied by Le Clerc, with orders not to
give them up, but to retain them as hostages,
if Toussaint refused to abandon his country¬
men. "With a magnanimity that equals the
records of ancient history, the father suffered
them to return. It is not in accordance with
our present plan to trace the dark and treach¬
erous snares which enveloped him. It is well
known that, notwithstanding the most solemn
assurances of safety, he was seized and con¬
veyed in the night on board a vessel, and trans¬
ported to Brest. After imprisonment in the
Chateau de Joux, he was carried to Besantjonj
and confined in a subterranean prison, where
he languished in cold and darkness through
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
9
the winter, — he who had been reared under
the tropical sun of his beloved island! — and
died in 1803.
The treacherous, cruel, and unjust impris¬
onment of Toussaint drew upon Bonaparte
severe and just condemnation. "We have only
to study the closing days of the conqueror,
and to see him " chained like a vulture " on
the rock of St. Helena, a spectacle for the
world, to turn almost with envy to the dark
and dreary winter prison where Toussaint
ended his life, heroically and without one
complaint; —
" That dungeon-fortress * never to be named,
Where, like a lion taken in the toils,
Toussaint breathed out his brave and generous spirit.
Ah, little did he think who sent him there,
That he himself, then greatest among men,
Should in like manner be so soon conveyed
Athwart the deep, — and to a rock so small
Amid the countless multitude of waves,
That ships have gone and sought it, and returned,
Saying it was not! " t
* The Castle of Joux in Franche-Comt6.
t Kogers's "Italy."
10
MEMOIR OF
We quit this melancholy contemplation for
the subject of our memoir, and go back to the
happiest period of Pierre Toussaint's life.
John Berard successfully cultivated the plan¬
tation, treading in his father's footsteps, and
with patriarchal care exacting a due propor¬
tion of labor, which he rewarded with kind¬
ness-and protection. Wealth flowed in upon
him. He was tenderly attached to his cousin,
and finally married her. She had resided
much on the plantation, and partook of his
attachment to the slaves, particularly to Ze-
iiobe and her descendants.
" I remember her," said Toussaint, " when
the bridal took place. She was very pale; her
health was always delicate, but she looked
so lovely, and we were all so happy! and Ros¬
alie and I were never tired of gathering flow¬
ers for her, and we used to dance and sing for
her amusement." In one year after her mar¬
riage she began to droop. " Ah!" said Tous¬
saint, " I can see her as she lay upon the
couch, panting for air, — all so beautiful, out¬
side and in; then Rosalie and I would stand
PIERRE TOTTSSAINT.
11
at opposite corners of the room and pull the
strings of a magnificent fan of peacock's
feathers, swaying it to and fro, and we would
laugh and be so gay, that she would smile
too; but she never grew strong, — she grew
weaker."
She expressed a wish to go to Port-au-
Prince ; — probably her near relations resided
there. She took Toussaint and Rosalie with
her.
About this time the troubles in St. Domin¬
go began. The revolutionary doctrines of
France could not fail to influence her colo¬
nies. Hayti looked at the contest for liberty
and equality with the keenest interest. The
wealthy proprietors joined in the universal
cry. But they had no idea of participating
these blessings with the free-born colored peo¬
ple ; they still meant to keep them in a subor¬
dinate state. A large' number of wealthy and
intelligent merchants, but a shade or two
darker than their aristocratical brethren, stout¬
ly contended for an equal share in adminis¬
tering the affairs of the colony, and claimed
12
MEMOIR OF
their right of representation, of sharing in the
distribution of offices, and all the immunities
of free and independent citizens. This was
by no means the idea of the nobility of St.
Domingo; and when France subsequently es¬
poused the cause of the mulatto free popula¬
tion, and when the Abbe Gregoire spoke elo¬
quently for them in the National Assembly,
the hatred of the whites knew no bounds. As
yet only private attempts at annoyance had
arisen on both sides • but a dark storm seemed
threatening, for the disaffected had talked of
offering their colony to the English. No
fears were entertained of the slaves ; they
were considered as machines in the hands of
their masters, and, without principles, wills,
or opinions of their own, they were neither
dreaded nor suspected; and so the contest
seemed to be between the nobility and the
free people of color.
Monsieur B6rard willingly consented to the
change his young wife proposed in going to
Port-au-Prince, hoping she might derive bene¬
fit from it. But no favorable symptoms oc-
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
curred ; her decline was rapid, and in one
short month from her arrival she breathed her
last, in her twenty-first year.
Toussaint and Rosalie returned to Latibo-
nite at St. Mark's. It was most touching to
listen to Toussaint's description of his young
mistress, as he saw her every day declining,
yet then unconscious that he should soon see
her no more!
The attachment of these two classes, of
mistress and slave, might almost reconcile us
to domestic slavery, if we only selected par*
ticular instances. But without suggesting
whether there are few or many such, we
may all understand the danger of institutions
which leave to ignorant, passionate men thq
uncontrolled exercise of power. It is not,
however, on the ground of individual treat¬
ment that the philanthropist, the statesman,
and the moralist found their strongest argu¬
ments against slavery; it is on the eternal
rights of man, on the immutable laws of God;
and till it can be proved that the negro has
no soul, we cannot plead for him merely on
14
MEMOIR OF
the score of humanity, or place him simply
under that code of laws which, imperfectly it
is true, protects the noble horse from abuse.
It was for his divine right that the Abbe Gre-
goire spoke so successfully.
We now arrive at what formed the great
era of Pierre Toussaint's life. He had hither¬
to lived in the midst of luxury and splendor;
for the apartments of Monsieur Berard, as
he describes them, were furnished in a style
of expense that exceeded even modern prodi¬
gality. All the utensils of his mistress's
chamber were of silver lined with gold; the
dinner service was of the same metals. In
St. Domingo, the tropical climate yielded its
abundant fruits, and the hardships of winter
were never known.
Monsieur Bdrard married a second wife,
and still all was successful and prosperous.
But this was not long to last. The troubles
had now begun. He earnestly wished to pre¬
serve a neutral position; but he found this
impossible. His immense property became
involved; his perplexities increased in various
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
15
ways; and he determined to quit the island,
and repair to the United States to pass a year,
meaning *to return when the storm was over
and tranquillity restored. He took with him
five servants, including Toussaint and his sis¬
ter Rosalie.
New York was their place of destination.
Monsieur Berard, by the kindness of a Mend,
found a house ready, furnished, of which they
took immediate possession. He brought suf¬
ficient funds to enable them to live in good
style for more than a year. Madame Berard
also brought over her sisters, one of whom
had married General Dessource.
They formed at this time a gay and united
family, with plenty of society and amuse¬
ment. " I remember," said a lady who
was well acquainted with them, " Toussaint
among the slaves, dressed in a red jacket, full
of spirits and very fond of dancing and mu¬
sic, and always devoted, to his mistress, who
was young, gay, and planning future enjoy¬
ment."
All went on pleasantly with them for a
16
MEMOIR OF
year; but intelligence from the island grew
more and more alarming, and M. Berard
thought it necessary to return to St*. Domin¬
go, to look after his affairs. Previously to his
going, he mentioned to Toussaint that he
wished him to learn the hair-dressing busi¬
ness, and a Mr. Merchant, who dressed the
hair of Madame Berard, engaged to teach
him for fifty dollars. M. Berard, placing the
property he had brought over to this country
in the hands of two respectable merchants,
took leave of his wife, as he thought for a
short season. In the mean time, she remained
tranquil and hopeful, talking over her plans of
living with Toussaint, telling him her projects
for the time to come, and concerting pleasant
surprises for her husband when he should
arrive. She was much pleased with Pierre's
success as a coiffeur, and said how gratified
M. Berard would be to find he had succeeded
so well. Those who have known Toussaint
in later years will easily comprehend the
manner in which he was adopted into the
confidence of his employers through life. His
PIERRE TOTTSSAINT.
17
simple, modest deportment disarmed all re¬
serve ; he was frank, judicious, and unobtru¬
sive. A highly cultivated and elegant woman
said, " Some of the pleasantest hours I pass
are in conversing with Toussaint while he is
dressing my hair. I anticipate it as a daily
recreation." The confidence placed in him by
his master and mistress he considered a sa¬
cred trust.
Melancholy letters arrived from M. Berard.
His property was irreclaimably lost; and he
wrote that he must return, and make the most
of what he had placed at New York. This
letter was soon followed by another, an¬
nouncing his sudden death by pleurisy.
Madame Berard had not recovered from
this terrible shock, 'when the failure of the
firm in New York to whom her property was
intrusted, left her destitute.
" Ah!" said Toussaint, " it was a sad period
for my poor mistress; but she believed — we
all believed — that she would recover her
property in the "West Indies. She was rich
in her own right, as well as her husband's,
2
18
MEMOIR OP
and we said, 4 O madam! you will have
enough.'"
But this present state of depression was
hard indeed to one who had always lived in
luxury. The constant application for debts
unpaid was most distressing to her; but she
had no. means of paying them, and she could
only beg applicants to wait, assuring them
that she should eventually have ample means.
Toussaint entered into all her feelings, and
shared her perplexities; and though he had
scarcely passed boyhood, he began a series of
devoted services.
He was one day present when an old friend
called on her, and presented an order for forty
dollars, thinking her husband had left the
money with her, and by no means divining
her state of destitution. She assured him he
should have the money, and requested him to
wait a short time; she considered it peculiarly
a debt of honor. A\7hen he went away, she
said to Toussaint, " Take these jewels and
dispose of them for the most you can get."
He took them with an aching heart, con-
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
19
trasting in his own mind her present situation
with the affluence to which she had always
been accustomed. He had by industry begun
to make his own deposit; for, as a slave, he
was entitled to make the most of certain por¬
tions of his time. In a few days he went to
his mistress, and placed in her hands two
packets, one containing forty dollars, the other
her own valuable jewels, upon which the sum
was to have been raised. We may imagine
what were her feelings on this occasion!
At another time, the hair-dresser of whom
Toussaint had learnt his trade called on Ma¬
dame Berard for the stipulated sum. Tous¬
saint heard her reply, with faltering voice,
"It was not in her power to pay him; he
must wait." Toussaint followed him out, and
entered into an engagement to pay the sum
himself, by instalments, and at length received
an acquittal, which he presented to his mis¬
tress. She was at first alarmed, and said,
" O Toussaint, where can you have got all
this money to pay my debts !" "I have got
some customers, Madame," said he; " they
20
MEMOIR OF
are not very fashionable, but Mr. Merchant
very good,— he lets me have them; and be¬
sides, I have all the money that you give me,
my New Year presents, — I have saved it all."
She was much surprised, and told him she did
not know when she should be able to repay it.
He told her it was all hers, that he never
wanted that money again; that he had already
good customers, and expected every day more
and more. " My poor mistress," said Tous-
saint, " cry very much."
From this time he considered his earnings
as belonging to Madame Berard, except a
small deduction, which he regularly set aside,
since he had a purpose to execute which he
communicated to no one. His industry was
unceasing, — every hour of the day was em¬
ployed ; when released, his first thought was
his mistress, to hasten home and try to cheer
her.
In this way he alleviated the burden of her
troubles ; his affectionate, loving heart sympa¬
thized in all her sorrows. His great object
was to serve her. He was perfectly contented
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
21
with his condition. Though surrounded in
New York by free men of his own color, he
said that he was born a slave, — God had thus
cast his lot, and there his duty lay.
Two of Madame Berard's sisters died, and
the family was thus broken up. A gentleman
from St. Domingo, Monsieur Nicolas, who
had left the island about the same time with
the Berard family, cherished the hope, which
many entertained for years, of recovering his
property. In the mean time, like other unfor¬
tunate emigrants, he found himself obliged to
convert those accomplishments which had
made a part of his education to the means of
living. For some time he performed as a mu¬
sician in the orchestra of the theatre, and gave
lessons in music to a number of scholars. He
was a constant friend of Madame Berard, and
they at length married. For some time they
were sanguine in the hope of returning to the
island, and taking possession of their property,
but constant disappointment and perpetual
frustration of her hopes wore upon Madame
Nicolas's naturally delicate frame, and her
22
MEMOIR OF
health became much impaired. Monsieur
Nicolas was a kind and tender husband, and
did all in his power to alleviate her indispo¬
sition, and administer to her comfort.
Toussaint, in the mean time, was industri¬
ously pursuing his business as a hair-dresser,
and denying himself all but the neat apparel
necessary for his occupation, never appropri¬
ating the smallest sum of his earnings to his
own amusement, though at that season of
youth which inclines the heart to gayety and
pleasure. Belonging to a race proverbially
full of glee, and while on the island, among
his sable brethren, first in the dance and song,
he now scrupulously rejected all temptation
for spending money, and devoted his time to
his mistress. "We have before alluded to the
care with which he hoarded his gains. Be¬
sides the pleasure of surprising Madame with
little delicacies, he had evidently another ob¬
ject in accumulating, of which he did not
speak. He was successful, and took a re¬
spectable stand as a hair-dresser. His earnings
belonged in part to his mistress; but as she
PIERRE T0T7SSAINT.
23
grew more sick, he delighted to add voluntarily
the portion which belonged to himself. His
sister Rosalie was a constant and faithful at¬
tendant, but Toussaint was both a companion
and friend. Madame Nicolas had an affection
of the throat, and .was obliged to write rather
than converse ; to this faithful friend she used
to express her wants on little scraps of paper,
and he invariably supplied them, while she
consoled herself with the idea that he would
be fully indemnified eventually from her own
property. He had no such belief; he wished
for no return. In later years he said, " I only
asked to make her comfortable, and I bless
God that she never knew a want."
He strove to supply her with the luxuries
of her tropical climate, — grapes, oranges,
lemons, and bananas; he regularly procured
jellies and ice-creams from the best confec¬
tioners, and every morning went to market to
obtain what was necessary for her through
the day. His business of hair-dressing proved
very lucrative, and kept him regularly em¬
ployed. He attended one lady after another,
24
MEMOIR OF
in constant succession, and when released
from his duties hastened to render new ser¬
vices to his invalid mistress. She felt that
influence which a strong and virtuous mind
imparts, and communicated to him her per¬
plexities. He often read to her, and, adds
one of his most cherished and faithful friends,*
" Perhaps this scene, so touching to his feel¬
ings and elevating to his heart, in contem¬
plating a being honored and beloved, gradu¬
ally wasting away, may have been the foun¬
dation of that piety which has sustained him
through life, and become deeply seated in his
breast. He is a Catholic, full in the faith of
his Church, liberal, enlightened, and always
acting from the principle that God is our
common Father, and mankind our brethren."
Toussaint seemed to understand the consti¬
tution of Madame Nicolas's mind; he reflect¬
ed that she had always been' accustomed to
* Mrs. Philip J. Schuyler, whose death took place in 1852,
preceding Toussaint's about fifteen months. She was the
daughter of Micajah Sawyer, M.D., of Newburyport. To her
notes the author of this memorial is principally indebted..
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
25
society, and that the excitement of it was ne¬
cessary for her. " I knew her," said he, " full
of life and gayety, richly dressed, and entering
into (amusements with animation; now the
scene was so changed, and it was so sad to
me! Sometimes, when an invitation came, I
would succeed in persuading her to accept of
it, and I would come in the evening to dress
her hair; then I contrived a little surprise for
her. When I had finished, I would present
her the glass, and say: i Madame, see how
you like it.' O, how pleased she was! I
had placed in it some beautiful flower, — per¬
haps a japonica, perhaps a rose, remarkable
for its rare species, which I had purchased at
a greenhouse, and concealed till the time ar¬
rived." Sometimes, when he saw her much
depressed, he would persuade her to invite a
few friends for the evening, and let him carry
her invitations. When the evening arrived,
he was there, dressed in the most neat and
proper manner, to attend upon the company;
and he was sure to surprise her by adding to
her frugal entertainment ice-cream and cakes.
26
MEMOIR OF
It appeared his great study to shield her from
despondency, — to supply as far as possible
those objects of taste to which she had been
accustomed. In this constant and uniform
system, there was something far beyond the
devotion of an affectionate slave; it seemed
to partake of a knowledge of the human
mind, an intuitive perception of the wants of
the soul, which arose from his own finely or¬
ganized nature. In endeavoring to procure
for her little offerings of taste to which she
had been accustomed, he was unwearied: not
because they had any specific value for him¬
self, but simply for the pleasure they gave to
her. All he could spare from his necessary
wants, and from the sum which he was en¬
deavoring to accumulate, and to which we
have before alluded, was devoted to his mis¬
tress. " Yet one rule," said he, " I made to
myself, and I have never departed from it
through life, — that of not incurring a debt,
and scrupulously paying on the spot for every
thing I purchased."
But not all this affectionate solicitude, nor
PIERRE TOTTSSAINff.
27
the cares of a kind husband, for such was
Monsieur Nicolas, could stay the approach of
death. Her strength rapidly declined, and
every day Toussaint perceived a change. At
length she was confined to her bed. One day
she said to him, " My dear Toussaint, I thank
you for all you have done for me; I cannot
reward you, but God will." He replied,
" O Madame! I have only done my duty."
" You have done much more," said she ; " you
have been every thjng to me. There is no
earthly remuneration for such services."
A few days before her death, she called
Toussaint to her bedside, and, giving him her
miniature, told him she must execute a paper
that would secure to him his freedom. Mon¬
sieur Nicolas, who was present, said, " Save
yourself this exertion, — every thing you wish
shall be done." She shook her head, and re¬
plied, " It must be done now."
Her nurse from infancy, Marie Boucman,
had accompanied her mistress to New York.
She was aunt to Toussaint. Free papers
were given to this faithful domestic by Ma-
28
MEMOIR OF
dame Berard and her sisters in St. Domingo,
in which we find this sentence: "We give
her her freedom in recompense for the attach¬
ment she has shown us, since the troubles
which afflict St. Domingo, and release her
from all service due to us."
This woman, whom she tenderly loved, she
committed to Toussaint's care in a most
touching manner. " As you love my mem¬
ory," said she, " never forsake her: if you
should ever quit the country, let her go with
you."
The deed was legally executed which^ se¬
cured to Toussaint his freedom, and which
she had. strength to sign. She then desired
him to bring a priest, made her confession,
received her last communion, and died at the
age of thirty-two.
She was a most gentle, affectionate woman,
and deeply attached to those around her. "We
think a letter of hers, addressed to her negro
nurse, will not be uninteresting in this connec¬
tion. It appears that Marie, after seeing her
mistress safely settled in New York, returned
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
29
again to see her family, as among Toussaint's
papers the following letter is found from Ma¬
dame Nicolas: —
"New York.
" How, my dear Marie! is this the way you
keep your promise ? You told me you woulcl
write to me as soon as you reached the Cape.
Every one has written, but I find no little note
from you. Have you forgotten me, my dear
Memin ? This thought makes me too sad. I
was sorry to part with you, but I would not
tell you all I felt, lest you should have changed
your mind, and passed the cold winter here.
So now you are at the Cape.
" I hear you reached there after a voyage of
thirty days. "Were you ill, my dear Memin ?
How are you now ? I am impatient to hear
from you. Tell me news of your children.
If it had not been for this last intelligence, we
should by this time have been at the Cape ;
as soon as the French troops arrive, we shall
return. If you are not well off, come back to
me, and we will all go to St. Domingo to¬
gether. You know that you are a second
30 memoir of pierre tot7ssaint.
mother to me; you have filled the place of
one. I shall never forget all you have done
for my poor sisters, and if efforts could have
saved any one, I should now have them all.
But God has so ordered it, and his will be
done! Ah, dear Memin, your religion will
support you under all your sufferings, — never
abandon it!
Adieu! Write me soon, or I shall think
you do not love me any longer.
" I am, always, as you used to call me, your
" Bonte."
The little fancy names of endearment were
peculiar to the West Indian mistresses and
slaves. Marie Boucman returned again to
New York.
PAET SECOND.
After the death of Madame Nicolas,
Toussaint remained with her husband. M.
Nicolas lived on the first floor of a house,
with one servant, who was his cook; and
Toussaint continued to go to market for him,
and to perform many gratuitous services. In
this manner they resided together for four
years, in Reed Street.
Marie Boucman had also a room on the
same floor of the house, and supported her¬
self by her industry.
Rosalie, who was still a slave, was engaged
to be married, and Toussaint at once put into
execution the project he had long contem¬
plated, and for which he had been accumulat-
32
MEMOIR OF
ing the needful money by degrees. This was
the purchase of his sister's freedom. Of his
own freedom he never seems to have thought,
but it was all-important to him that Rosalie
should enter life under the same advantages
as her husband and those around her. "With
a delicacy for which he was always remark¬
able, he never mentioned this subject to
Madame Nicolas, though we cannot but
think that she would at once have bestowed
it without price. Probably the subject never
occurred to her.
Toussaint paid his sister's ransom, and she
was soon married. He had now time to
think of himself. He had formed an attach¬
ment for Juliette Noel, and they were married
in 1811, and continued to live in the same
house with Monsieur Nicolas, having two
rooms in the third story.
At the end of four years M. Nicolas left
New York for the South, and a constant
interchange of letters and kind offices on.
Toussaint's part took place, continuing till
the death of M. Nicolas. The following
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
33
extract from a letter of M. Nicolas to Tous-
saint, written long after, will show how high¬
ly this gentleman respected and appreciated
him: —
"July, 1829.
" I have received your letter, my dear Tous-
saint, and share very deeply the sorrow which
the loss of your niece must bring ^upon you.
No one knows better than I, how much you
were attached to her; however, as you say
very truly, we must resign ourselves to the
will of God. I am sorry to hear that Juliette
has been ill, and hope that your next letter
will speak of her reestablished health. I
have not written to you for a long time, my
dear Toussaint, — not that I do not think of
you, or that I love you less, but I was
troubled because I was not able to send you
any thing; however, I know your heart, and
feel quite sure you will not impute this delay
to want of inclination. You have no idea
how unhappy I am when I cannot meet little
debts. But, my dear Toussaint, I fail every
day ; I am at least ten years older than when
3
34
memoib of
I last saw you. Both .courage and strength
begin to fail, and add to all this, that I do not
hear a word from France about our claims.
You can understand my sad situation; but a
few years longer will put an end to my
misery. However, I do not despair to see
you again before I pay the debt to Nature.
In the mean time think of me, write to me,
and be assured that you will always find me
your true friend,
"G. Nicolas."
A period of prosperity seemed now to have
dawned on the faithful Toussaint. He was
happy in his conjugal connection. Juliette
was of a gay, cheerful disposition, and fully
estimated the worth of her husband. Indeed,
how could it be otherwise? She saw him
universally respected, and treated as a friend
by every one. As a hair-dresser for ladies, he
was unrivalled: he was the fashionable coiffeur
of the day; he had all the custom and pat¬
ronage of the French families in New York.
Many of the most distinguished ladies of the
city employed him ; we might mention not a
few who treated him as a particular friend.
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
35
A pleasant novel, said to be written by a
Southern lady, but published in New York,
"The Echoes of a Belle," gives a graphic
description of Toussaint as a hair-dresser:
" He entered with his good tempered face,
small ear-rings, and white teeth, a snowy
apron attached to his shoulders and envelop¬
ing his tall figure."
He went continually from house to house
performing the office of hairdresser, and was
considered quite as a friend among the fair
ladies who employed him. They talked to
him of their affairs, and felt the most perfect
reliance upon his prudence; and well they
might, for never in this large circle was he
known to give cause for an unpleasant re¬
mark. Once a lady, whose curiosity was
stronger than her sense of propriety, closely
urged him to make some communication
about another person's affairs. " Do tell me,
Toussaint," said she, " I am sure you know
all about it." " Madam," he replied with dig¬
nity, though with the utmost respect, " Tous¬
saint dresses hair, he no news journal."
36
MEMOIR OF
At another time he was requested to carry
a disagreeable message. He immediately an¬
swered, " I have no memory."
Toussaint had delayed his marriage with
Juliette, till he saw his sister Rosalie, as he
believed, well settled in life, and mistress of
her own freedom; but all his affectionate
endeavors could not secure to her the happi¬
ness he had so fondly anticipated.
In 1815 Rosalie had a daughter born,
but her prospects had been cruelly frus¬
trated ; her husband proved idle and dissi¬
pated, and Toussaint almost entirely sup¬
ported her. The little infant was named
Euphemia by her uncle, but the mother's
health rapidly declined. Dr. Berger was her
able and humane physician; he pronounced
her in a decline. Juliette took home the
infant of six months old, and brought her up
by hand. Very soon the mother was re¬
moved to Toussaint's roof, and, after linger¬
ing a few months, breathed her last. Pre¬
viously to this event, Marie Boucman had
died, carefully watched over by Toussaint,
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
37
who considered her as a legacy bequeathed to
him by his mistress.
Euphemia was a sickly, feeble child. Dr.
Berger did not give much encouragement
that she would live; but Toussaint, who was
always sanguine, fully believed that her life
would be granted to them. Both his and
Juliette's assiduity was unremitting for her;
no parents could have done more. Every
day Toussaint took the feeble little creature
in his arms, and carried her to the Park, to
the Battery, to every airy and pleasant spot
where the fresh breezes sent invigorating
influence, hoping to strengthen her frame and
enable her lungs to gain a freer respiration.
The first year of her life was one of con¬
stant struggle for existence, but God blessed
their untiring efforts, and the frail plant took
root and flourished.
An incident occurred in Toussaint's life
about this time, which deeply interested him.
He was summoned to the City Hotel to dress
the hair of a French lady, who was a
stranger. She could speak no English, and
38
MEMOIR OF
therefore was very glad to converse with him
in her native language. She spoke to him of
her lonely feelings, and of her painful separa¬
tion from a dear friend, who was now in Paris.
Toussaint told her there were many agree¬
able French families in New York. " Yes,"
she said, " she had letters to a number, but no
one could supply the place of her Aurora
Berard."
It was the first time he had heard his
godmother's name mentioned for many years.
Could it be her of whom the lady spoke ?
A few inquiries settled the matter; it was
indeed the same, — she who in the hap¬
py period of his infancy had stood sponsor
5.t the baptismal font, who had sometimes
visited his dreams, but of whose very exist¬
ence he was doubtful. How many touching
recollections arose to his mind! Again the
palmy groves of his beautiful native isle
were before him; again he was gathering
fruits and flowers for his little godmother, and
performing a thousand antic sports for her
amusement. But such delusions are momen-
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
39
tary; he was once more Toussaint the hair¬
dresser, and hastened back to communicate
this delightful surprise to his faithful Juliette.
The lady was soon to leave the city and re¬
turn to Paris; he wrote to Aurora by her, but
from some unfortunate mistake} when he car¬
ried his letter she had sailed.
His disappointment was great, but in three
months afterwards he received the following
letter from Aurora, saying she had heard of
him through her friend, and expressing her
affection for his grandmother and mother,
and her kind interest in him.
"X Monsieur Toussaint, Coiffeur*
"Paris, November 27,1815.
" Madame Brochet, on her return to this city,
fifteen days since, has given me intelligence
of you, my dear godson. I, as well as my
brothers and sisters, am truly grateful for the
zeal that you manifested in wishing to learn
* It is but justice to observe, that all the original letters in
this volume addressed to Toussaint are translations from the
Trench.
40
MEMOIR OF
something of us, and for the attachment
which you still feel for us all. After the infor¬
mation that Madame Brochet gave me, I can¬
not doubt that you will be glad to receive a let¬
ter from me. I write to you with pleasui 3, and
I have felt much in learning that you are
prosperous in your affairs, and very happy.
As to us, my dear Toussaint, we have never
quitted Paris." Our situation is not happy.
The Revolution deprived us of all our prop¬
erty. My father was one of the victims of
that frightful period. After being confined
six weeks in prison, and under constant in¬
spection of the government, on their own
place, near Paris, both he and my mother
died of grief. My brothers and sisters are
married, but I am not, and am obliged to
make exertions to live which have impaired
my health, which is now very poor. Were
it not for that, I might be tempted to ac¬
complish the voyage you desire; but I am
not the less sensible to the offers you make
me, through Madame Brochet, and I thank you
sincerely. It is consoling to me to know,
pierre toussaint.
41
amidst all my troubles, that there exists one
being who is so much attached to me as you
are. I wish we could live in the same town,
that I might give you details by word of
mouth about my family. [Here follows a
short account of her brothers and sisters and
their children.]
" Write to me, my dear Toussaint, about
your wife; I know you have no children. Do
you know any thing relating to St. Domingo ?
What has become of all our possessions, and
our ancient servants ? Tell me all you know
about them. Have you any of your former
companions in your city ? My nurse Made-
laine and your mother, are they still living ?
Tell me every thing you know. Adieu, my
dear godson. Do not forget to write to me,
and depend upon the affection of your god¬
mother, who has never forgotten you, and who
loves you more than ever, since she finds you
have always preserved your attachment to
"Aurora Berard."
This letter Toussaint immediately an¬
swered, and accompanied it by a dozen
42
MEMOIR OP
Madras handkerchiefs. The French ladies
highly prized this article, for at that time they
were considered a most tasteful and fashiona¬
ble head-dress. Juliette always wore them,
and was often asked to teach ladies to fold
them, and give them the graceful and pic¬
turesque air which she gave to her own.
From this time letters were frequently ex¬
changed between Aurora and her affection¬
ate godson. He sent her Canton crape dress¬
es, and other articles which were of great
price in France, and all of the best quality.
These presents she gratefully acknowledged,
but there is a very natural fear expressed that
he has sent too expensive ones. In alluding
to the crape dresses, she writes: " To judge
from the dearness of the articles here, I fear
you may have made some sacrifice to pur¬
chase them, and this idea gives me pain."
Soon after the letter sent by Aurora, Tous-
saint received the following from Monsieur
Berard, the brother of Aurora: —
"Paris, 1815.
" I have learned with pleasure and grati-
pierre toussaint.
43
tnde, my dear Toussaint, all that you have
done for my brother Berard and his widow,
and the attachment you still entertain for our
family. Since I have known all this, I have
wished to write to you, and express the love and
esteem I feel for you. It is from Mesdames
D , R , and C , I have received
these details. I was so young when I left St.
Domingo, that I should certainly not recognize
your features, but I am sure my heart would
acknowledge you at once, so much am I
touched with your noble conduct. All my
family share these feelings, but more particu¬
larly my sister Aurora. I do not despair of
returning to St. Domingo, and of finding you
there, or in the United States, if I take that
route.
" Adieu, my dear Toussaint. Give me
news of yourself, and believe in my sincere
friendship.
"Berard du Pithon."
This renewal of his early intercourse with
the Berard family was a source of great hap¬
piness to Toussaint. We regret that none of
44
MEMOIR OF
his letters to his godmother remain; but hers
sufficiently prove the affection on both sides.
He even proposed removing to Paris with
Juliette, and consults her on the eligibility of
such a step. Her answer, an extract from
which is here given, is most kind, considerate,
and disinterested. His wish is evidently to
support her, as he had his mistress, by his
own industry.
"Paris, December 1, 1818.
" I have seen Mr. S to-day. This gen¬
tleman appears to be much attached to you,
which gives me great pleasure. "We talked
together of your wish to come to France. If
I only consulted my own desire to see you, I
should say, come at once; but your happiness,
my dear godson, is what I think of above all
things, and since every one from New York
tells me that you are happy, highly esteemed,
and much beloved by most respectable per¬
sons there, would you be as well off here?
Those who know your resources better than I
can, may advise you with more confidence. If
I were rich, this would be of little consequence.
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
45
I should call you near to me, for I should be
too happy to have a person to whom I could
give all my confidence, and of whose attach¬
ment I should feel certain. This would be
too desirable for me, not to ask you to come;
but my position is a sad one. I could not be
useful to you, and I fear you would not be so
happy as you deserve. I speak to you like a
mother, for be assured that your godmother
would be most happy to see you. Although I
have not seen you since my childhood, I love
you like a second mother, and I can never
forget the services you have rendered to my
brother and his wife. My brothers and sisters
share these feelings, and we never speak of
you without emotion."
The following is from another letter of
Mademoiselle Berard, of a little later date: —
" Your friends have not left me ignorant of
all the good you do, and that you are the
support of the colored women of our planta¬
tion. You must induce them to work, for
you should not give away all your earnings.
You must think of yourself, of your wife, and
46
MEMOIR OF
niece, whom you look upon as a daughter.
I hear that Hortense is with you; she be¬
longed to me, and must be young enough to
work and support herself. You will do her a
service if you induce her to work; tell her so
from me. It gives me pain to find that you
are still without news of your family; here we
know nothing. Let us trust in Providence.
Your feelings of piety make me believe that
God is also your consolation; you are right,
and the assurance that every one expresses of
your religious character gives me great pleas¬
ure. I feel deeply, my dear godson, all that
you tell me of your desire to see me, and to
serve me. I understand your noble feelings.
Your attachment adds much to my happiness,
for there are so few persons in the world who
resemble you, that I appreciate you as you
deserve."
This pleasant intercourse continued for
many years. At length the following letter
came: —
« July 28, 1834.
" You are already in sorrow, my dear Tous-
PIERRE TOTJSSAINT.
47
saint, and the sad news J must announce to
yon will only augment it. Two months have
passed since your beloved godmother was
taken from us by sudden death. My heart is
so deeply oppressed by this affliction, that I
can scarcely write. A few days before her
death she spoke of you; she wished to write
to you, being very anxious at not having
heard from you for a long time. What pleas¬
ure she would have experienced in receiving
your last letter, which arrived about fifteen
days since! The news I send to you will be
sad, but you may be assured of the affection
that every member of our family feels for
you, and myself in particular. My dear
Toussaint, it will be a great pleasure to hear
from you. .1 hope that Divine Providence
will mitigate the painful remembrance of
your adopted niece. Man can offer only
words, but God, who sends the affliction, can
diffuse into our souls all necessary fortitude.
May you have recourse to the throne of
grace, and that blessed future life where all
our thoughts ought to centre. I hope that
48
MEMOIR OF
your dear godmother now enjoys perfect hap¬
piness ; since the death of our parents she
has suffered much. Indeed, for several years
she has experienced the pain of rheumatism
in frequent attacks; her patience and resigna¬
tion to the will of God, and her entire con¬
fidence in the Mother of God, will be her
propitiation. I love to think that God is
good; he knows our hearts, and will judge
us."
The letter closes with assurances of the
love and gratitude of all the family. It is
from Madame de Berty, the sister of Aurora
Berard.
Toussaint's situation was now prosperous
in every way; he lived in a pleasant and
commodious house, which was arranged with
an air of neatness, and even gentility. Juliette
was gay and cheerful; she loved her little
parties and reunions; they had wealth enough
for their own enjoyment, and to impart to
those who were in want. They were con¬
scientious Catholics; charity was for them,
not only a religious duty, but a spontaneous
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
49
feeling of the heart. One instance may here be
mentioned of the quiet, silent manner in which,
they bestowed their good deeds. A French
gentleman, whom Toussaint had known in
affluence, a white man, was reduced to pov¬
erty ; he was sick and suffering, craving a
delicacy of food which he had no means to
procure. For several months Toussaint and
Juliette sent his dinner, nicely cooked, in
«
such a way that he could not suspect from
whom it came. " If he had known," said
Toussaint, " he might not have liked it;
he might have been proud." " Yes," said
Juliette, "when Toussaint called to see him
sometimes, he would say, ' O, I am well
known! I have good friends; every day some¬
body sends me a nice dinner, cooked by a
French cook'; and then perhaps he would
enumerate the different viands. My good
husband would come home, and tell me, and
we would laugh very much."
"When Euphemia was about seven years
of age, a friend of Toussaint's proposed
her being taught music. Her uncle was
4
50
MEMOIR OF
wholly opposed to the idea; he thought it
would involve much expenditure of time and
money, and Jie saw no advantage to be de¬
rived from it. He said the little girl had her
own sweet voice, and sang like the birds, yet
they were not taught music.
Some time after, a warm and true friend
of Toussaint's, who knew his worth, urged
him to let her give lessons to Euphemia in
music; this was the lovely and amiable Miss
Metz.* She persevered in going to his house,
with her notes in her hand. Finally he con¬
sented, on her suggesting that it might here¬
after become a means of support to his niece.
This representation, with her gratuitous in¬
struction, obviated his objections; but then
another arose. So tenderly guarded was the
little Euphemia, that he never suffered her to
go into the streets alone, and he felt that his
time could not be spared to attend her. Miss
Metz, in her benevolent zeal, beautiful and
young as she was, offered to come herself and
* Now Mrs. Moulton, residing in Paris.
PIERRE TOTTSSAINT.
51
give the lessons. But Toussaint's never fail¬
ing sense of propriety would not allow of
this arrangement; and Juliette, her good
aunt, accompanied her three times a week to
her kind young friend, to receive her lesson.
This was continued for four years. Tous-
saint purchased a piano, and she made all
the progress that could be expected.
It was obvious, however, that her religious
and moral cultivation was the first object
with her uncle; his tenderness and judg¬
ment were constantly blending their efforts
for the improvement of her heart and mind.
He was most desirous to make her a being
who would be capable of fulfilling her duty
towards her Creator and her fellow-beings.
No household instruction was omitted. Juli¬
ette was an excellent housekeeper, and the
little girl was her aunt's assistant. They
were constantly inculcating lessons of charity
with her pleasures.
Toussaint was much interested in the
Catholic Orphan School for white children.
" On ^Euphemia's saint's day," he said, " I
52
MEMOIR OF
always took her with me to the cake shop,
and we filled a large basket with buns, jum¬
bles, and gingerbread, which we carried to
the Orphan Asylum." I said to him, " You
let her give them to the children ?" " O
no, madam! that would not be proper for
the little black girl. I tell her, ask one of
the sisters if she will give them to the chil¬
dren. When they were sent for, Euphemia
stood on one side with me to see them come
in, and when they received the cake they were
so glad, and my Euphemia was so happy!
One day as we went there, she asked me,
c Uncle, what are orphans ?' I answered, they
are poor little children that have no father
or mother. For a moment she looked very
sad; then she brightened up and said, ' But
have they no uncle ? ' O madam! I feel so
much, so much then, I thank God with all
my heart."
He had the happy art of making every one
love him, by his affectionate and gentle man¬
ner. His deportment to his wife was worthy
of imitation even by white men. She was
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
53
twenty years younger than he was, and no
doubt had a will of her own ; but she always
yielded it to Toussaint's, because she said she
was not obliged to do it. A friend related to
me an amusing scene she witnessed. Juliette
was about to purchase a mourning shawl, for
she had just lost a relative. The shawls were
exhibited. " How do you like this for mourn¬
ing ? " said she to Toussaint. " Very pretty,"
he replied. " I think," said she, " it is hand¬
some enough for church." " O yes! very good
for that." " Don't you think it will do to
wear if it rains ? " " O, certainly!" "I think
it will do sometimes to wear to market, don't
you ? " " Very nice," he replied; " pray take
it, Juliette; it is good for mourning, for
church, for rain, and for market; it is a very
nice shawl." Juliette secured it, much satis¬
fied with her bargain.
Since I began this memoir, I have learned
that Toussaint purchased Juliette's freedom
before he married her. To this circumstance
he did not allude in the history of his early
life ; probably from that sense of delicacy for
54
MEMOIR OF
which he was so remarkable. He went im¬
mediately after the ceremony to the City Hall
to have the papers ratified.
Euphemia was taught reading, writing,
and all pursuits adapted to her age. When
she was five or six years old, she was a most
engaging child; her manners were striking¬
ly gentle, her countenance and expression
pleasant, and her behavior excellent, modelled
upon her uncle's ideas of obedience and
deference, which he had always practised
himself. He often contrived to throw in a
word of admonition to the children round
him; to one little girl where he visited he
said, " Miss Regina, your mother very good;
obey her now, you will be happy when you
are older." This lesson years after she grate¬
fully mentioned.
How devotedly he loved his little niece,
many will yet remember. She seemed fully
to understand his affection, and clung to him
as the vine clings to its support. She was
delicately formed, and her figure slight; he
would put his arm around her, and say, " My
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
55
Euphemia," with a tenderness that was af¬
fecting ; there appeared something sacred in
his love, as if he felt that God had intrusted
her to his protection, and, by depriving her of
all other earthly support, had made him re¬
sponsible for her future welfare.
When she was about twelve years old,
Toussaint procured her a French teacher.
French was his own and his wife's language,
of course that of his family; but he wished
her to speak it grammatically. He also let
apartments in his house to a respectable
white woman, a widow, who taught Euphe¬
mia English, and who after a while collected
a small school of young children.
It was a striking trait in his character, that
every thing in which he engaged was thorough¬
ly done; there was a completeness in his plans,
and their execution, which commanded confi¬
dence, and which perhaps was one of the causes
of the respect which he inspired. This some¬
times led ladies to say, that Toussaint " was a
finished gentleman." His moral qualities,
however, gave him this distinction; for with
56
MEMOIR OF
the most perfect modesty he knew exactly what
was due to others and to himself, while his
heart overflowed with that Christian kindness
which far surpasses mere worldly politeness.
He was observant of all the forms of the
Roman Catholic Church; through winter and
summer he missed no matin prayers, but his
heart was never narrowed by any feeling as
to sect or color. He never felt degraded by
being a black man, or even a slave; for he
considered himself as much the object of
Divine protection as any other human being.
He understood the responsibility, the great¬
ness, of the part allotted him ; that he was to
serve God and his fellow-men, and so fulfil
the duties of the situation in which he was
placed. There was something truly noble
and great in the view that he took of his own
nature and responsibility. No failure on the
part of the master could in his opinion ab¬
solve a slave from his duty. His own path
was marked out; he considered at a straight
one and easy to follow, and he followed it
through life. He was born and brought up
PIEREE TOUSSAINT.
57
in St. Domingo at a period which can never
return. In the large circle around him there
were no speculations upon freedom or human
liberty, and on those subjects his mind ap-
pears to have been perfectly at rest. When
he resided in New York, he still preserved the
same "tranquil, contented state of mind, yet
that he considered emancipation a blessing,
he proved, by gradually accumulating a sum
sufficient to purchase his sister's freedom. It
was not his own ransom for which he toiled,
but Rosalie's, as has been previously said, for
he wished that she might take her station as
a matron among the free women of New
York. But he does not appear to have enter¬
tained any inordinate desire for his own free¬
dom. He was fulfilling his duty in the situa¬
tion in which his Heavenly Father chose to
place him, and that idea gave him peace and
serenity. When his mistress on her death¬
bed presented him his liberty, he most grate¬
fully received it; and we fully believe he would
not have suffered any earthly power to wrest
it from him.
5S
MEMOIR OF
There are many in the present day who
will view this state of mind as degrading,
who consider the slave absolved, by his great
primary wrong of bondage^ from all obliga¬
tion to the slaveholder. Not such was Tous-
saint's idea. He did not ask, like Darwin's
African slave, " Am I not a man and a
brother?" but he felt that he was a man and
a brother. It was the high conception of
his own nature, as derived from eternal jus¬
tice, that made him serene and self-possessed.
He was deeply impressed with the character
of Christ; he heard a sermon from Dr. Chan-
ning, which he often quoted. " My Mends,"
said Channing, " Jesus can give you nothing
so precious as himself, as his own mind. May
this mind be in you. Do not think that any
faith in him can do you good, if you do not
try to be pure and true like him." We trust
many will recognize the teachings of the
Saviour in Toussaint's character.
Madame Toussaint loved Euphemia with
the same affection that she would have be-
1
stowed on her own children, had she pos-
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
59
sessed any. She was an excellent wife, and
respected her husband's feelings in all things.
She was gay and good-humored, had a most
pleasant, cordial laugh, and a ladylike deport¬
ment. Her figure and features were fully de¬
veloped, and much more African than Tous-
saint's, though she was several shades lighter.
Their house was the abode of hospitality,
and many pale faces visited them.
At the age of fourteen, Euphemia seemed
to have attained firmness and strength, and
we can hardly imagine more domestic happi¬
ness, or a picture of more innocent enjoy¬
ment, than Toussaint's household afforded.
His peculiar devotedness and tenderness
towards Euphemia seemed to be richly re¬
warded. He had 'no idea of making her a
being that would be incapable of fulfilling the
daily avocations of life. She was carefully
taught all domestic duties; it was her great
pleasure to aid her aunt, and she was never
happier than when she was allowed to assist
in the work of the family. When she grew
old enough to make her uncle's coffee, it
60
MEMOIR OF
would be difficult to say which received most
pleasure, the uncle or the niece, the first time
she brought it to him, and said, " I made it
all myself."
Toussaint's friends knew well they could
afford him no higher gratification than by be¬
stowing kind attentions upon this child of his
adoption and darling of his heart. Many
and constant were the little presents she
received. Toys, dolls, and bonbons were
the early gifts; afterwards books, and those
things suitable to her increasing years. He
always spoke of the kindness and solicitude
of his beloved friend, Mrs. Peter Cruger, origi¬
nally Miss Church, for his Euphemia, with
a gratitude that could hardly be expressed.
He had another devoted friend, to whom his
heart was bound by the strongest ties of
reverence and affection, — the one to whom
we have before alluded. One has long since
passed away, the other but yet a little while
was with us. They both loved and cherished
the litte girl for her uncle's sake, and she
seemed to be daily fulfilling his fond wishes.
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
61
She was carefully educated in the forms of
the Catholic Church, and no lesson of love,
charity, or kindness was forgotten, that might
soften and penetrate her youthful heart.
What delight to Toussaint to return to his
happy home after the fatigues of the day,
and meet this young creature of his affec¬
tions, who enlivened him with her music,
cheered him by her smiles, and interested him
by relating all her little pursuits since they
had separated! Perhaps she would repeat to
him some story she had read during his ab¬
sence, and she would say, " It is a true story,
I read it in a book."
Her exercises in ^writing were very regular;
every week two little notes in French and
English were handed to Toussaint from his
niece. "We have many of them before us;
we insert a few, which are about equal to
those of white children at her age.
"New York, February 23, 1827.
" Dear Uncle : —
" O, how sorry I am that you was not
there to see Miss Metz married; she looked
so sweet and beautiful; she looked like an
62
MEMOIR OF
angel; but what I think was so good in her,
that she should come and kiss my aunt and
me, before all the company. I believe no¬
body would do it but her. It will come quite
difficult to me to call her Mrs. Moulton. I
have made one mistake already.
"Adieu, dear uncle.
" Euphemia Toussaint."
" Dear Uncle : —
" What bad weather we have now! I hope
it will not last long, for it is very disagreeable
for you, who have to run all over the town,
and everywhere ; but God knows better than
we do ; he does every thing for the best, and
it is so singular that we cannot be contented.
Dear uncle, I will be very much obliged to
you if you will give me one shilling to buy
cotton to finish my frock; now I have begun
it I want to finish it very much, and after
that I want to embroider a Vandyke. I have
not seen Mrs. Cruger a long time; I wish to
see her very much.
"Adieu, dear uncle.
" Euphemia Toussaint."
PIERRE TOTTS SAINT.
63
" Dear Uncle : —
" O, I must write to Mrs. Moulton to tell her
about your having your miniature taken; * I
know that it will please her, and make her
laugh. I have several things to tell her that
will please her very much. Dear uncle will
you excuse me for writing so short a letter
this week, for I composed it in a great hurry.
"Your Euphemia Toussaint."
The little girl's attachment to this kind
friend, Mrs. Moulton, was unceasing through
her short life. She often complained of^the
difficulty of calling her by her married name,
and said, the other was much more natural.
It is with grief we see dark clouds gather¬
ing over this smiling prospect. The health
of Euphemia began to decline, and she was
threatened with consumptive complaints. Ju¬
liette mentioned her fears to her uncle; he
could not believe it, he could not listen to it.
But alas! it soon became too evident that the
* The miniature alluded to is the one from which the litho¬
graph has been taken.
64
MEMOIR OF
disorder of the mother had sown its heredi¬
tary seeds. Then there was no rest for poor
Toussaint night or day. He required the un¬
remitting consolations of his friends to soothe
and calm his mind. He hung over the dar¬
ling of his affections with an intensity of
feeling which seemed to threaten his own life.
The good Father Powers devoted himself
to uncle and niece. It was judged best not
to acquaint Euphemia with her situation. It
was her delight to rest in her uncle's arms, to
tell him how she loved him, and what she
would do for him when she got well.
Sometimes when friends called, they would
find him seated on her bed, where she lay
supported by pillows, her presents strewed
around her, for people were untiring in send¬
ing her little gifts to interest and amuse her.
Her uncle would hand h,er the articles that
lay beyond her reach, and amuse her by re¬
counting her treasures. So many more good
things were sent her than she could even
taste, that she said playfully, " I make uncle
eat all these up, but I keep the flowers to
look at."
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
65
Toussaint felt deeply the proofs of friend¬
ship which were daily accumulated in at¬
tentions to his darling, and often expressed
his unworthiness in the humblest manner,
saying, " I thank God for all his goodness."
It was a great consolation to him that
Euphemia suffered but little. She gradually
wasted away, without any painful struggles.
He said one day, " God is good; we know
that here on earth, but my Euphemia will
know it first there" pointing upwards.
A few months brought the rapid decline to
a close; and the loved one who had been so
carefully cherished and guarded, and whose
slumbers had been watched over from infancy,
slept the last sleep of death.
" And what is early death, but sleep
O'er which the angels vigils keep;
Around the white-robed seraphs stand,
To bear the young to the spirit-land."
For a long while Toussaint could only say
to those who came to comfort him, " My
poor Euphemia is gone"; and as his lips
uttered these words, he covered his face with
5
66
MEMOIR OF
his hands. He grew thin, avoided society,
and refused to be comforted. But his mind
was too pious and too rational to indulge
long this excess of sorrow. He listened to
high and holy consolations, and found resig¬
nation in the prayers of his Church. Those
who witnessed his struggles to command
himself at this time, and perform his daily
duties, have spoken of him with reverence.
Toussaint received a most consolatory letter
from his friend, Mrs. Cruger, who was then in
France, soon after the death of his niece.
"We give the following translation: —
" 1829.
" I need not say, my dear Toussaint, how
much I sympathize with you; my heart and
my soul follow you in your last cares for
this cherished child, to whom you have ever
been the best, the most tender of fathers.
My tears have flowed with yours; but I could
not weep for her, I wept for you. When we
resign to the Eternal Father a child as pure
as the heaven to which she returns, we ought
not to weep that an angel has entered into a
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
67
state of happiness which our feeble concep¬
tions cannot picture, and you, my good Tous-
s'aint, who are piety itself, will realize this
consoling thought, the only one you can now
welcome in this severe affliction. The life of
Euphemia has been almost a miracle; she
owes her existence to your constant care and
watchfulness. Her short life has been full of
happiness ; she has never known the loss of a
mother; far happier than hundreds of others
raised in the wealthiest and most elevated
classes, the most gentle virtues and affec¬
tions have surrounded her from her cradle,
and she has been taken from a paradise on
earth to enter into an eternity of happiness.
Could you have secured the future to her ?
If death had struck you instead of her, to
what dangers might she not have been ex¬
posed! May the consciousness of the duty
you have so faithfully discharged mitigate
this bitter sorrow. You have given back to a
cherished sister the child of your adoption,
before either sin or sorrow had touched her,
and they will both wait for you in that man-
68
MEMOIR OF
sion reserved for beings as excellent and vir¬
tuous as you are."
The effect of Euphemia's death, and the
deep affliction it caused Toussaint, seemed
eventually to produce a more energetic pur¬
pose of usefulness ; his earnest desire was to
benefit others. To accomplish this object,
when funds were wanting, he would use his
influence in promoting fairs, and, in individual
cases, raffles ; disposing of elegant and super¬
fluous articles at a just price, when their own¬
ers were reduced by poverty.
His ingenuity in contriving means of assist¬
ance to others was remarkable. A French
lady, who was much embarrassed in her cir¬
cumstances by the depreciation of her small
property and the failure of her rents, con¬
sulted Toussaint on the possibility of doing
something for her support. He suggested
her teaching French. She said very frankly,
that she was inadequate to it, that she had
no grammatical knowledge. " Madam," said
he, " I am no judge, but I have frequently
heard it said that you speak remarkably pure
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
69
and correct French." This was really the
case, for she had been educated in the best
society. " That is a very different thing,"
she replied, " from teaching a language."
Toussaint, after some moments of reflec¬
tion, said, " Should you be willing to give
lessons for conversing in French ? " She re¬
plied that she should be quite willing.
He at once set about procuring scholars
among his English friends, many of whom
appreciated the advantage of free and famil¬
iar, and at the same time correct conversation,
for their children; and thus pupils were not
wanting for the lady, and she was able to sup¬
port her family by these simple means till the
sudden rise of her rents relieved her from her
embarrassment. This method was^ quite an
original idea of Toussaint's at that time,
though it has since been adopted even in our
own language.
On occasion of some fair for a charitable
purpose, Toussaint would go round to his
rich friends and represent the object, and
they placed so much confidence in his judg-
70
MEMOIR OF
ment, that they would often add trifles to
swell the list, and always take a number of
tickets ; and in this way he was able to col¬
lect considerable sums for the benefit of the
orphan and the widow.
It must not be supposed that Toussaint's
charity consisted merely in bestowing money;
he felt the moral greatness of doing good, of
giving counsel to the weak and courage to the
timid, of reclaiming the vicious, and, above
all, of comforting the sick and the sorrowful.
One of his friends said that " his pity for the
suffering seemed to partake of the character
of the Saviour's tenderness at the tomb of
Lazarus." "When he visited his friends in
sorrow, his words were few; he felt too deep¬
ly to express by language his sympathy.
Once he said, " I have been to see poor
Madam C ." (She had met with a most
heavy bereavement.) " And what did you
say to her ? " said a friend. " Nothing," he
replied, " I could only take her hand and
weep with her, and then I went away; there
was nothing to be said." He felt that, in the
PIERKE TOUSSAINT.
71
first moment of stunning grief, God alone
could speak to her.
When he entered the house of mourning,
an air of sympathy pervaded his whole man¬
ner, the few words he uttered were those of
faith and love, and he was often successful in
communicating comfort to the sorrowful.
We must not omit his wonderful capacity
in sickness ; how often he smoothed the pil¬
low and administered relief to disease. He
was constantly summoned as a watcher, and
gave his services to the poor without money
or price. At a time when the yellow fever
prevailed, and the alarm was so great that
many were deserted, Toussaint discovered
that a man was left wholly alone. He was a
stranger, but he took him to his house, nursed
him, watched over him, and restored him to
health. . This stranger was a white man!
Like others, he sometimes met with ingrati¬
tude for his services; in one particular in¬
stance he persevered through difficulties and
discouragements in endeavoring to serve a
French family, and succeeded in procuring
72
MEMOIR OF
situations for two of the young men ; but as
they grew successful, they rather avoided
their benefactor. " I am glad," said Tous-
saint, " they so well off; they want nothing
more of me."
Because Pierre Toussaint was an unlet¬
tered man, many people who were surprised
at his character, and at his numberless good
deeds, attributed his-excellence wholly to his
natural disposition. They said, " He has the
best instincts, — he was born good." Those
who knew him better saw that he was gov¬
erned by a high and noble principle. In a
world of passion and error it is idle to talk
of human instincts as securities of virtue.
Toussaint reflected deeply; he had no theo¬
ries of philosophy; he would not have un¬
derstood much of the sentimental language
with which our novels abound; but, as we
have before seen, he understood the plain
teachings of Christianity. He often quoted,
in his native language, from the Sermon on
the Mount, and the beatitudes seemed to have
found their way to his heart. His whole life
PIERRE TOTJSSAINT.
73
was one of thought and observation ; he had
a surprising insight into character, and a
wonderful tact in classing his friends. To
some, even where he was sincerely attached,
he was never communicative, for he knew
they were not judicious; to others, with
whom he had daily intercourse, he was care¬
ful not to commit himself, for he knew they
were not sincere; but there were others to
whom he gave his whole heart, as though he
truly believed them but little lower than the
angels.
When we speak of Toussaint's friends, we
do not include his own people of color,
though most gladly would we procure their
testimony were it in our power. That he
was a fast and true friend to them we know,
but our walks have not led us among them ;
yet by this noble specimen we are induced to
believe what they may become by treading in
his footsteps. The friends we mean to par¬
ticularize were those to whose houses he
daily resorted, — people in New York of the
highest class in rank, cultivation, and wealth.
74
MEMOIR OF
It was by such he was sought and honored,
and long after his labors as hair-dresser had
diminished, by the simpler fashion of the
times, he was requested by them to continue
his daily visits. His profession began with
the age of powder and pomatum, when im¬
mense fabrics were reared upon the female
head; and to have an idea of these, the young
must go back to ancient pictures, where they
will see them in all their glory. When pow¬
der was relinquished, still the style of hair-
dressing was somewhat architectural. Dur¬
ing the French Revolution perukes or wigs
were introduced, and of course adopted by
our American ladies. These seemed to fur¬
nish the strongest proofs of the caprice of
fashion, as it was generally found that those
on whom nature had liberally bestowed black
hair went through the process of the razor,
and appeared with flaxen or light brown
wigs; so, in reverse, the blonde belles aston-.
ished their admirers by appearing with glossy
raven curls. Of course there could be no at¬
tempt at deception in this matter; it was one
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
75
of the caprices of fashion which had its
reign and passed away.
Through all these changes Toussaint con¬
tinued to be the favorite, and was summoned
to shave the beautiful heads he had so often
dressed, and prepare them for the modern
wig. Then again the perukes were dis¬
carded, and the natural hair suffered to grow,
and what were called crops succeeded, with
the short hair curled over the head. Still
Pierre stood in high favor ; no curls were so
beautifully arranged as his. As the hair be¬
gan to recover its growth, the Grecian fashion
was adopted, — the hair fastened on the back
of the head and falling in curls like those of
the sculptured Venus. Still Toussaint was
all-important, and ready to adopt any fashion
his employers chose; but he looked on with
the eye of a philosopher. " Fashion keep
change, change," said he; " all good, the way
poor people live."
A lady told me that one day, when he came
to pay his daily visit, they were preparing
dresses for a wedding. " I well remember,"
76
MEMOIR OF
said she, " the thoughtful manner with which
he stood looking at the flowers, laces, and
gay silks strewed about the room. I said,
' Why do you look so grave, Toussaint ?'
' O madam,' said he, 'I go to a great
many places; I go into one house and they
cry, cry, cry, — somebody dead. I go into
another, and it is all laugh, laugh, — they are
happy and glad. I go to another, it is all
shut up dark, they move very softly, they
speak in a whisper, — somebody Very sick, f
come here, it is all dance and sing, and flow¬
ers and wedding-dresses. I say nothing; but
it makes me think a great deal.' "
Although always received with gladness
and respect by the heads of the house, his
humility, good sense, and kind feeling made
him equally welcome to the domestics. He
was often consulted by them, and when he
entered the house, he generally exchanged a (
few words ; he excited in them no envy or ill-
will, which it might have been expected would
arise, from seeing a colored man treated with
so much more distinction than themselves.
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
77
The truth was, that they respected him, they
felt the value of his good opinion, of his
recommendation, and, above all, they confided
in the kindness of his heart.
This was in truth his great characteristic,
the goodness of his heart. " The heart will
live for ever. Of mere ingenuity, learning, and
ability, much must fail us on the floor of
heaven, left behind with the world it knows
of, and to perish with it." But the heart will
live on, not only hereafter, but here. Obedi¬
ence and resignation towards God, faith in
the future, patience and commiseration for
•the sick and suffering, and love towards those
of your own household, and to those around
you, are not perishable in their nature •; their
influence is felt on all who come in contact.
And thus it was with Toussaint; his heart
was not only kind and affectionate, but gay
and cheerful; it was filled with trust and con¬
fidence, and gave him the happy power of dis¬
pelling gloom and anxiety in others. Perhaps
few reflected on the subject, yet they all felt
that they loved to see him throughout the
household.
78
MEMOIR OF
On New Year's day he was always among
those who came to tender their good wishes;
every house from the drawing-room to the
kitchen was open to him, and every hand ex¬
tended. We presume few remember him in
his early manhood. Then he was tall and
well made, and with the flexibility of limb
which belongs to his race. He was truly an
African, not as we see him in a degenerate
form, but as Mungo Park describes him in his
travels through Western Africa. " Every
evening when the sun goes down, all Africa
is alive with dance and song. The sound of
music, rude though it be, stirs the leaves of
the palm-tree from the marts of Ophir to the
coast of Congo." Toussaint's lively descrip¬
tion of these evenings on his native planta¬
tion reminds us of the traveller's account.
Some of the songs of the West-Indian ne¬
groes are yet preserved amongst us, and are
remarkable for their childlike expression of
human nature. The specimen which Park
gives of an African song must be familiar to
us all : " The poor white man, faint and
weary, came and sat under our tree," &c.
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
79
The death of Toussaint's most dear and
beloved friend, Mrs. Cruger, was a heavy
affliction to him as well as to others. We
insert a letter addressed to him on that oc¬
casion, from a French lady: —
" Havre, 1840.
" I am very sorry to learn the death of
your truly estimable friend, Mrs. Cruger.
The good Archbishop of Bordeaux, Bishop
Chevereux, said to me, ' We are left on
earth to weep for our friends.' We must
believe that her good deeds and her virtues
will find favor in the sight of the God of
mercy, whose precepts she has followed all
her life.
"Adieu, my dear Toussaint! Although we
may not meet again in this land of exile, yet
I trust we shall be reunited in our true coun¬
try, — heaven. Let us live so as to merit
this happiness."
PART THIRD.
The period in Toussaint's life which oc¬
curred from the time of Euphemia's death
for a succession of years seems to have been
an uncommonly tranquil one. His union
with Juliette was happy. She was the daugh¬
ter of a respectable woman named Clau-
dine Gaston, who came to this country as a
nurse, as has been before mentioned, with a
French family, by whom she was much be¬
loved. She was a judicious and an affec¬
tionate wife, by her neatness and order
making his house pleasant to him, and taking
a more than equal share in the labors of the
family.
Every man must value the respect of his
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
81
wife, and Toussaint could not but be gratified
with the evident delight Juliette received from
the attentions paid him. "When her friends
congratulated her on having such a good hus¬
band, her frank, happy smile, displaying rows
of white teeth, gave a full assent to their com¬
mendations.
Toussaint said of himself, that he possessed
a quick temper, that he was born with it,
and was obliged to bear it about with him.
"We doubt not that it was true, because he
had a lively sensibility to every thing; yet to
those who knew his self-command and forbear¬
ance, this trait made him the more interesting.
One of his intimate friends, in alluding to his
confessions and penitence on the subject, said:
" I never heard him speak ill of any one; if
he could say no good, he was silent. Even
those who were ungrateful to him met with
no angry rebuke; it seemed to be his object
to forget all injuries."
Toussaint had a quick sense of the ridicu¬
lous, and like most of his race, when he was
young, was an excellent mimic; as he grew
6
82
MEMOIR OF
older he relinquished this power, so amusing
to others, as a dangerous one. He played on
the violin for small dancing parties at one
time, and taught one or two boys to play on
this instrument, saying, if they did not derive
profit from it, it would at least be an innocent
amusement.
One of the methods in which Toussaint
did essential good was by bringing up colored
boys one after another, sending them to
school, and, after they were old enough, teach¬
ing them some useful business. In all these
plans of charity Juliette united.
The neatness and order of their household
was striking. Toussaint purchased a pleasant
and commodious house in Franklin Street,
and a gentleman of the highest respectability
took rooms there for some months. From a
note of his I have permission to make ex¬
tracts : —
" I am sorry to hear that Toussaint is on
his death-bed, though I do not believe he has
cared much about living since he lost his
wife. Such was the even tenor of his way
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
83
while I lived under his roof, that nothing oc¬
curs particularly to my memory. You know
there is no being on earth who presents so
few prominent and recollectable points as a
'perfect gentleman.' If you undertake to
describe any such person whom you have
ever known, you will find him the most in¬
describable. So it was with Toussaint. His
manners were gentle and courtly ; —how can
this simple statement be expanded into de¬
tails, so as to give a better idea of them ?
The most unaffected good humor at all times,
the most respectful and polite demeanor with¬
out the slightest tincture of servility, the most
natural and artless conversation, — ali this I
remember of him, as every one else remem¬
bers who knows him; but all his intercourse
was so unobtrusive that it is difficult for me
to recall any thing marked. I remember how
much I was pleased with his deportment and
behavior towards his wife. Juliette was a
good woman, but unlike Toussaint; she was
flesh and blood, while he was possessed of
the spirit of one man out of many thousands.
84
MEMOIR OF
I never met with any other of his race who
made me forget his color. Toussaint, for his
deportment, discretion, good sense, and en¬
tire trustworthiness and fidelity, might have
discharged creditably all the functions of a
courtier or privy councillor. His politeness,
which was uniform, never led you for a mo¬
ment to suspect his sincerity; it was the
natural overflow, the inevitable expression of
his heart, and you no more thought of dis¬
trusting it than of failing to reciprocate it,
and I cannot imagine that any one could
offer him an indignity."
Such is the testimony of a gentleman thor¬
oughly acquainted with the world. I re¬
member Juliette's opening a drawer and say¬
ing, " This is Mr. 's linen, I have all the
care of it" ; and it certainly did her the great¬
est credit.
We have no authority to say much of
Toussaint's views of slavery; in that, as in
all things else, he acted rather than theorized.
As we have seen, his earnings, all that he did
not spend on the comfort of his mistress, were
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
85
carefully hoarded for his sister's freedom, and
his wife's freedom he purchased before he
married her. We cannot doubt how highly
he prized liberty for the slave, yet he was
never willing to talk on the subject. He
seemed to fully comprehend the difficulty of
emancipation, and once, when a lady asked
him if he was an Abolitionist, he shuddered,
and replied, " Madame ils n'ont jamais vu
couler le sang comme moi," "They have never
seen blood flow as I have"; and then he added,
" They don't know what they are doing."
"When Toussaint first came to this country,
the free negroes and some of the Quakers
tried to persuade him to leave his mistress.
They told him that a-man's freedom was his
own right. " Mine," said he, " belongs to my
mistress."
When the colored people in New York
celebrated their release from bondage, on the
5th of July, 1800, they came to Toussaint to
offer him a prominent part in the procession.
He thanked them with his customary polite¬
ness, congratulated them on the great event
86
MEMOIR OF
of emancipation, but declined the honor they
assigned him, saying, " I do not owe my free¬
dom to the State, but to my mistress."
There are so many instances of his devo¬
tion to the sick that we do not particularize
them; but one lady mentions, that when the
yellow fever prevailed in New York, by degrees
Maiden Lane was almost wholly deserted, and
almost every house in it closed. One poor
woman, prostrated by the terrible disorder,
remained there with little or no attendance;
till Toussaint day by day came through the
lonely street, crossed the barricades, entered
the deserted house where she lay, and per¬
formed the nameless offices of a nurse, fear¬
lessly exposing himself to the contagion.
At another time he found a poor priest in a
garret, sick of the ship-fever, and destitute of
every thing. He made his case known, pro¬
cured him wine and money, and finally re¬
moved him to his own house, where he and
Juliette attended upon him till he recovered.
A friend once said to him, " Toussaint, you
are richer than any one I know; you have
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
87
more than you want, why not stop working
now ?" He answered, " Madam, I have
enough for myself, but if I stop work, I have
not enough for others."
By the great fire of 1835, Toussaint lost
by his investments in insurance companies.
Some of his friends, who knew of his slow,
industrious earnings, and his unceasing chari¬
ties, thought it but just to get up a subscrip¬
tion to repair his losses. As soon as it was
mentioned to him he stopped it, saying he was
not in need of it, and he would not take what
many others required much more than he did.
Among the numerous letters which Tous¬
saint received, there are many from foreign
parts. Persons of rank and high considera¬
tion wrote to him for years.
In 1840 Toussaint received the following
letter from a friend at Port-au-Prince: —
" My dear Toussaint : —
" You will receive this by the Abbe ,
who has left this country because he could
not exercise his functions as a priest of God
ought to be able to do. His holy duties are
88
memoir of
shackled by laws which subject him every
moment to judges, who, according to the
rules of our faith, are not competent to direot
a priest in his duties as a minister of God.
For reasons like these, he leaves this country;
but he can inform you on this subject better
than I can."
This gentleman was received by Toussaint
with much respect and cordiality. He left
New York very shortly, and a few months
after, a letter, from which we make the fol¬
lowing extracts, reached Toussaint: —
« Rome, 1841.
" My very dear Friend : —
" You are no doubt surprised not to have
heard from me since I left New York, but
I can assure you this omission has not
arisen from forgetfulness of you or your dear
wife. On the contrary, I have thought of you
constantly, but my engagements have pre¬
vented my writing until now.
" On my arrival in this city, I was pre¬
sented to the Propaganda, and was received
by his Eminence Cardinal Fransoni with
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
89
much attention and kindness. I was offered
other missions, but I preferred and received per¬
mission to continue my studies at Rome for
two years in the College of the Twelve Apos¬
tles, and the Propaganda pays all the expense
during my residence in Rome. To-day for
the first time I put on the Roman ecclesiasti¬
cal habit. I have received permission from
the Cardinal Vicar-General of the Pope, to
celebrate the Holy Mass in all the churches
of Rome. There are, I believe, four hundred,
some of them the largest and finest in the
world; indeed they are little heavens upon
earth, adorned with every thing which can be
procured in gold, silver, hangings of silk and
satin, in marble statuary, in paintings, and
mosaics. I wish I could give you a more
minute account. Present my respects to the
Rev. Mr. Powers, and believe me that I
hold you and your kind wife in constant re¬
membrance. "With my best wishes for your
temporal and eternal welfare, permit me to
subscribe myself.
" Your very sincere friend."
90
MEMOIR OF
We add a few extracts of'letters from his
own race. The following is from Constantin
Boyer: —
"Port-au-Prince, 1836.
" My dear Friend : —
" I begin by wishing you a happy new
year, as well as to madam, your wife. How¬
ever, it is only wishing you a continuation of
your Christian philosophy, for it is that which
makes your true happiness. I do not under¬
stand how any one can have a moment's
peace in this world if he does not have con¬
stant reference to God and his holy will."
Another colored friend in Port-au-Prince
writes as follows : —
"1837.
"You wish me prosperity, dear friend;
what can touch my heart more than to re-
, ceive your benedictions, — the benedictions of
a religious man. I have known many men
and observed them closely, but I have never
seen one that deserved as you do the name
of a religious man. I have always followed
your counsels, but now more than ever, for
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
91
there are few like you. Good men are as rare
as a fine day in America."
The following is from a colored woman to
Madame Toussaint: —
"Port-au-Prince, 1844.
" This is the second letter I have written to
yon without waiting for an answer; but the
gratitude I owe to you, my very dear friend,
and to your husband, induces me to write,
every good opportunity. After the services
and the kindness you have shown me, during
my residence in New York, I hope I never
shall forget you. Since our arrival here, we
have been in constant trouble and anxiety;
the country is not tranquil. I fear that we
shall be obliged to return to Jamaica again.
At the other end of the coast, more than
twelve hundred persons have gone to Jamaica.
We are in a country where you can get no
one to serve you or to help you. They all
tell you they are free, and they will serve no
one."
The following extract is from a letter by a
colored friend: —
92
MEMOIR OF
" Port-an-Prince, 1838.
" Let us now speak of politics. I have the
honor to send you the treaty between France
and Hayti, that you may see the conditions
of agreement between the two powers. If I
were to give you all the details, I should have
to write a journal. But you will have them
before your eyes. I can tell you, however,
that since the arrival of Baron de Lascase
there has been nothing but fetes, dinners,
breakfasts, and balls, in the city and the en¬
virons. The company consisted of the cap¬
tains of frigates, the French Consul and his
staff, generals, colonels, and other officers of
Hayti. Would you believe that great num¬
bers of persons wished to give them break¬
fasts, and could not ? These gentlemen were
always engaged by one or another. Le Baron
de Lascase gave a ball to the Haytian ladies;
never has any thing like it been seen in Port-
au-Prince. The company was the captains
of frigates and brigs, as well as their officers.
Ah! it was a splendid ball. They left, the
22d of March, with two Haytian missionaries,
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
93
who have gone to France to get a receipt for
the money which has been given, and to see
to the ratification of the treaty.
" The Chamber of Representatives is open
since the 10th of April. I hope they will
lower the duties, and that will give us a more
open commerce, and be a great advantage to
us. The President made a fine discourse at
the opening of the Chamber, but I could not
get it to send it to you. It will come by the
next opportunity. I assure you that the Baron
de Lascase has been very much pleased with
the Haytian gentlemen. They left Port-au-
Prince with regret, after having made such
pleasant acquaintances. May God keep you,
Sir, in his holy keeping! It is not we who
will see the happiness of this country, but our
children will. If they behave themselves well,
they will enjoy the happiness which has been
denied to their ancestors."
The following is extracted from another
letter of C. Boyer : —
"Port-au-Prince, June 13, 1842.
" My dear friend, do you know (unhappy
94
MEMOIR OF
country!) that there exists no longer Cape Hai-
tien, nor Santiago, nor Port-au-Paix! These
three cities were destroyed, on the 7th of May
last, by an earthquake. While I speak of it,
my hair stands on end. Never has living soul
seen such a terrible earthquake. Santiago,
such a pretty city, so well built, all with walls
like the Cape, all houses of two or three
stories high, all has been thrown down in
half a second. At the Cape not a house
stands upright. The trembling lasted for five
minutes, rapidly, with great force. At Go-
naive the earth opened, and a clear stream
of water rushed out. At the same time a fire
broke out and consumed twenty houses. At
Port-au-Paix the sea rose violently nearly five
feet, and carried off the rest of the houses
which had not fallen. At the Cape six thou¬
sand persons have been killed under the ruins,
and two thousand wounded. At St. Domin¬
go all the houses have not fallen; they are,
however, nearly all shattered and uninhabita¬
ble. The shock was much more violent to¬
wards the north than at the south; but this
pierke toussaint.
95
gives you some idea of what has taken place
in this poor country. It happened at half
past five in the evening. This country is now
most miserable."
The following is from a young colored
man: —
" St. Thomas, 1849.
" My dear and venerable Compatriot : —
So far off as I am from you, I think of
you always. I wend my way to Franklin
Street at least once a day, in imagination,
and the recollections of Boston or Lowell, of
New York or Jersey City, never leave me.
Yes, the Union is a beautiful thing (belle
chose), and the United States is a beautiful
country. It offers something much more
beautiful than other countries. It is its love
of order, of work, its industry, that makes it
first among the nations. They are surprised
in the Colonies at the enthusiasm with which
I speak of the United States, because in gen¬
eral the men of our race here suppose that all
people of color are treated like cattle there.
I wish I could tell you something satisfactory
96
MEMOIR OF
of our country; but this gratification is a long
way off. If there is not bloodshed, there are
deceptions, iniquities, the same bad tenden¬
cies, — terror is the order of the day."
The following is an extract from a letter
from an old friend of Toussaint's. It may
be interesting from its touch of humor.
" Chicago.
" My dear old Companion : —
" I am glad to hear that your horrible win¬
ter has neither killed you nor given you any
serious illness. Thanks to your regular habits
and your fervent prayers, you are still in good
health, and I hear very prosperous. But you
are still a negro." You may indeed change
your condition, but you cannot change your
complexion, — you will always remain black.
Do they mistake you for a white man, that
you have a passport everywhere ? No ; it
is because you perceive and follow the naked
truth. Many think that a black skin pre¬
vents us from seeing and understanding good
from evil. What fools! I have conversed
faith you at night when it was dark, and
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
97
I have forgot that you were not white. The
next morning when I saw you, I said to my¬
self, Is this the black man I heard talk last
night ? Courage ! let them think as they
please. Continue to learn, since one may
learn always, and communicate your wisdom
and experience to those who need it. I must
now write to you about the ladies here.
They are great coquettes, go with their heads
well dressed, which they arrange themselves
with great taste. Your business (hair-dress¬
ing) would be worth nothing here. You
must not come to this place to make your
fortune ; it would be a bad speculation."
We feel as if we had hardly done justice to
the constant and elevated view which Tous-
saint took of his responsibility towards his
own race. He never forgot that his color sep¬
arated him from white men, and always spoke
of himself as a negro. He sometimes related
little anecdotes arising from this circumstance
which amused him. One occurs to me that
made him laugh heartily. A little girl, the
child of a lady whom he often visited, came
7
98
MEMOIR OF
and stood before him, looking him steadily in
the face, and said, " Toussaint, do yon live
in a black house ? "
When he was very sick, a friend who was
with him asked him if she should close a win¬
dow, the light of which shone full in his face.
" O non, Madame," he replied, " car alors je
serai trop noir "; —" O no, Madam, for then I
shall be too black." This humorous notice of
his color, without the slightest want of self-
respect, was entirely in keeping with his char¬
acter. He was a true negro, such as God had
made him, and he never strove to be any
thing else. The black men represented as
heroes in works of fiction often lose their
identity, and cease to interest us as represent¬
atives of their race, for they are white men in
all but color. It was a striking trait in Tous¬
saint, that he wished to ennoble his brethren,
by making them feel their moral responsibil¬
ity as colored men, not as aping the customs,
habits, and conversation of white men. He
never forgot that he "lived in a black house"
nor wished others to forget it.
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
99
For many years Toussaint's life seems to
have passed unmarked by any sorrows which
do not occur to every one. He had accumu¬
lated what to his moderate views w*as an in¬
dependence, and enabled him to assist others.
Juliette's mother lived with them, and was
supported by him till she died. He had no
connections of his own, but his kindness to all
who needed it was unceasing. We think there
are many who will recollect this period, and
the cheerful little parlor where they convened
their guests.
One of their social parties was pleasantly
described to me by a white American ac¬
quaintance who had called ^ on them, and
whom Juliette invited with a companion to
visit her. They belonged to the household
of one of his most cherished and respected
friends. They found only two Frenchwomen,
as guests besides themselves. The table was
most neatly and handsomely set out, with
snowy damask table-cloth and napkins, and
exhibiting many of the elegant little memo¬
rials pertaining to the tea-table which had
100
MEMOIR OF
been sent them as presents from their friends
in Paris. Juliette sat at the head, and waited
on them, treating them with her delicious
French chocolate, but of which she did not
herself partake. When they had finished the
repast, they went into the contiguous room,
and Toussaint joined the party. It was thus
his sense of propriety led him to draw the
line. He never mingled the two races. Thi3
might have been in some measure the result
of early teaching, but there was evidently a
self-respect in avoiding what he knew was un¬
welcome.
"We find a letter of Toussaint to Juliette,
which we insert: —
" I have this moment received your letter,
my dear wife, and I answer it on the spot.
Every thing goes on well here. I have a
great wish to see you, but I wish much more
that you should remain as long as you are
pleased to do so, for I love my wife for herself,
not for myself. If you are amu,sed at Balti¬
more, I hope you will remain some days long¬
er with your good friends. I thank them for
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
101
having received you so kindly. Present my
compliments to Miss Fanny, and tell her that
I hope she will not set you too many bad ex¬
amples. I know that, though she is very de¬
vout, she is un peu michante. I hope you will
bring away with you her devotion, but not her
mechanceU."
There was often something sportive and
paternal in Toussaint's manner towards his
wife, and when the difference in their ages
was understood, it was easily accounted for.
He had ransomed her when sfce was fifteen,
and when he was himself in his thirty-seventh
year. They were most truly attached to each
other. " Je ne donnerois pas ma Juliette,"
said he to one of his French friends, " pour
toutes les dames du monde; elle est belle a
mes yeux," — "I would not give my Juliette
for all the women in the world; she is beau¬
tiful in my eyes."
Both of them enjoyed excellent health, and
probably Toussaint never supposed he should
be the survivor. It was otherwise ordered.
Juliette's health began to fail, and some
102
MEMOIR OF
alarming symptoms appeared. As in Euphe-
mia's case, he was sanguine that she would
recover. He said, " She is much younger than
myself, — shB is strong, very strong. She is
nervous, — she will soon be better." But it
became evident that she grew more ill, and
he could no longer shut his eyes upon her
danger.
" I often went to see Juliette," said a friend
to me. " Between her chamber and her hus¬
band's there was a small room, which was
fitted up with a crucifix, a prie-dieu, and many
beautiful emblems of the Catholic faith, gifts
to Toussaint, which he carefully treasured.
{ Ah,' said she, { he prays for me there, — it is
all the comfort he has ; he will soon be alone.
Poor Toussaint !"'"
"When her death came, it was a dreadful
blow to him. He never recovered from the
shock. It seemed to him most strange that
she should go first, and he be left alone ; yet
he constantly said, " It is the will of God."
Soon after her death, his own health became
impaired. The strong man grew feeble; his
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
103
step slow and languid. We all saw that.
Toussaint was changed. Yet he lingered on,
daily visiting beloved friends who sympathized
in his great loss, and still continuing his works
of beneficence.
We have adverted to the gayety and play¬
fulness of Toussaint. They often met an¬
swering sympathies among his friends. We
extract one or two passages from the let¬
ters of a lady who was travelling in Europe,
and who well understood these traits in his
character: —
" 1849.
" I have returned from church. The service
was performed in a Catholic chapel, with all
the insignia. I thought of my dear Tous¬
saint, and send my love to him. Tell him I
think of him very often, and never go to one
of the churches of his faith without remem¬
bering my own St. Pierre, and nobody has a
better saint. I am glad to hear from him
I
and his good Juliette."
We add a short note from the same
lady: —
104
memoik of
" Dear Toussaint : —
" I go to the Catholic churches all over;
they are grand and ancient. I always remem¬
ber my own St. Pierre, and often kneel and
pray with my whole heart. Ah, dear Tous¬
saint, God is everywhere ! I see him in
your Church, in mine, in the broad waste and
the full city. May we meet in peace and joy.
Ever and ever
" Your true friend."
We find among Toussaint's papers con¬
tinual proof of his charitable gifts and loans,
and of his efforts to discover any of his own
family .who might yet remain in St. Domin¬
go, and also of the family of his aunt, Maria
Boucman. In his will he sets aside four hun¬
dred dollars to be paid to her descendants in
case they can be found within two years.
His health was now evidently failing, yet
morning after morning, through snow and ice
and wintry frosts, his slow and tottering step
was seen on his way to Mass, which he never
once failed to attend for sixty years, until a few
months before his death; and later in the day,
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
105
fiis aged frame, bowed with years, was to be
seen painfully working its way to a distant
part of the city, on errands of love and char¬
ity. A friend said to him thoughtlessly,
" toussaint, do get into an omnibus." He
replied, with perfect good humor, " I cannot,
they will not let me."
One bitter pang remained for him; to
watch by the death-bed of that being who,
from her exalted station, had poured strength
and consolation into his wounded heart; who
had often left the gay circles of fashion to
speak to him words of peace and kindness,
and who, when the shadows of death were
coming over her, gave orders that Toussaint
should always be admitted. Many were the
fervent and silent prayers that the aged man
breathed by the side of her bed, with clasped
hands and closed lips.
Toussaint was a devoted disciple of his
Church ; her books of instruction were his
daily food, his prayer-book was always in his
pocket, and the maxims of Thomas & Kem-
pis were frequently introduced in his serious
106
MEMOIR OF
conversation. His illustrations were often
striking. In speaking to a Protestant friend
of the worship of the Virgin, he said, turn¬
ing to a portrait of a near relation of hers
in the room, " You like to look at this: it
makes you think of her, love her more ; try to
do what she likes you to do." In this inter¬
esting manner he described his own feelings
towards the pictures and images of the Vir¬
gin Mary.
As he grew more feeble he was obliged to
give up his attendance on the church. This
occasioned him some depression. One of
his Protestant friends who observed it said,
" Shall I ask a priest to come and see you ?
Perhaps you wish to confess." After a long
pause he said, "A priest is but a man ; when
I am at confession, I confess to God; when I
stand up, I see a man before me."
His simple method of expressing his con¬
victions was striking, and often instructive.
He was enlightened in his own faith, not
from reading, but from a quick perception of
the truth.
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
107
A lady who had known Toussaint from her
childhood wrote a letter when she heard of
his illness, from which the following passages
are quoted: —
" If my mother were living, how much she
could tell us of Toussaint! But unfortunately
I never kept notes of the many incidents she
used to relate of his character; I regret it sin¬
cerely now. At the time of Euphemia's
death we were in France, but most deeply
did we feel for him.
" When we returned I saw him constantly,
and began to comprehend him, which I never
did fully before. I saw how uncommon, how
noble, was his character. It is the whole
which strikes me when thinking of him; his
perfect Christian benevolence, displaying it¬
self not alone in words, but in daily deeds;
his entire faith, love, and charity; his remark¬
able tact, and refinement of feeling; his just
appreciation of those around him; his per¬
fect good taste in dress and furniture, — he
did not like any thing gaudy, and understood
the relative fitness of things. He entertained
108
MEMOIR OF
an utter aversion to all vain pride and as¬
sumption. He spoke of a lady he had known
in poverty who was suddenly raised to wealth.
She urged him to call and see her. He was
struck with the evident display of her riches.
She talked to him of her house, her furniture,
her equipages, her jewels, her dresses; she
displayed her visiting cards with fashionable
names. To all this Toussaint silently listened.
' Well,' said she, ' how do you like my es¬
tablishment ?' 'O madam!' he said, 1 does
all this make you very happy ? ' She did not
answer; she was not happy, poor woman!
She was poor in spirit; she never knew the
pleasure of making others happy.
" I recollect how invariably he consulted the
dignity of others, as well as his own. A lady
was staying with me, and being a Roman
Catholic, she wished to go to St. Peter's
Church, and asked Toussaint for a seat in
his pew, on Sunday morning. He said,
i Certainly, madam, you shall be accommo«
dated.' I went with her to Barclay Street;
we found him waiting at the door. He con-
PIERRE TOTJSSAINT.
109
ducted her to Madame Depau's pew, which
was vacant. ' I expected to sit in your pew,'
Said she. 4 No, madam,' he replied, ' it would
not be proper.' Though he labored under the
disadvantage of speaking a language imper¬
fectly, it being late before he became famil¬
iarized with English, he seemed always to
say just what was proper, and what any one
who knew him would expect him to say.
His religion was fervent, sincere, and made a
part of himself; it was never laid aside for
worldly purposes. You must not think from
these remarks that Toussaint was a grave,
solemn man ; he was full of spirit and anima¬
tion, and most entertaining in his little nar¬
ratives. I have laughed merrily at his anec¬
dotes and remarks, and when my sister and
I were girls, he used to dance for us as they
danced when our parents were young; and
though the style was so different, his atti¬
tudes were easy and graceful. Though very
discriminating, and meeting with amusing
things in various families, he was careful never
to repeat what passed in different houses,
110
MEMOIR OF
much less to betray the slightest confidence
placed in him. How much I regret that I
cannot be near him at the last! but I have
the satisfaction of knowing ' all is well.'"
Many other -touching remembrances might
be added. One French lady said: " He dressed
my hair for my first communion; he dressed
it for my wedding, and for christenings, for
balls and parties; at burials, in sickness and
in trouble, he was always here."
Another said: " The great fire of 1835
changed our fortunes; the first person who
came to us early the next morning was Tous-
saint, to proffer his services and sympathy."
There is but little to add to this memorial.
When I last saw Toussaint, I perceived that
his days were numbered; that he stood on the
borders of the infinite. He was feeble, but
sitting in an arm-chair, clad in his dressing-
gown, and supported by pillows. A more
perfect representation of a gentleman I have
seldom seen. His head was strewed with
the " blossoms of the grave." When he saw
me he was overcome by affecting remem-
PIERRE TOUSSAINT. Ill
I
brances, for we had last met at tne funeral
obsequies of the friend so dear to him. He
trembled with emotion, and floods of tears
fell from his eyes. " It is all so changed! so
changed!" said he, " so lonely!" He was too
weak to converge, but his mind was filled
with images of the past, of the sweet and
noble lady to whose notes we are indebted.
The next day I saw him again, and took
leave of him to see him no more in this
world. It was with deep feeling I quitted
his house, — that house where I had seen the
beings he dearly loved collected. It was a
bright summer morning, the last of May; the
windows were open, and looked into the little
garden, with its few scattered flowers. There
was nobody now I had ever seen there, but
himself, — the aged solitary man !
I left the city, and in early June received
notes from a friend who had visited him daily
for months. From these I transcribe.
" Toussaint was in bed to-day ; he says it
is now the most comfortable place for him,
or as he expressed it in French, ' II ne peut
112
MEMOIR OF
pas etre mieux.' He was drowsy and indis¬
tinct, but calm, cheerful, and placid, — the
expression of his countenance truly religious.
He told me he had received the last com¬
munion, for which he had been earnest, and
mentioned that two Sisters of Charity had
been to see him, and prayed with him. He
speaks of the excellent care he receives, — of
his kind nurse (she is a white woman), — and
said, 'All is well.' He sent me away when
he was tired, by thanking me."
A few days after, I received the following
note: —
" Excellent Toussaint! he has gone to
those he loved. His departure took place
yesterday at twelve o'clock, without pain or
suffering, and without any change from ex¬
treme feebleness. I saw him on Sunday; he
was very low, and neither spoke nor noticed
me.
" On Monday, when I entered, he had re¬
vived a little, and looking up, said, ' Dieu
avec moi,' —' God is with me.' When I
asked him if he wanted any thing, he replied
PIERRE TOUSSAINT.
113
with a smile, ' Rien sur la terre,' —' Nothing
on earth.'
" I did not think he was so near the gates of
heaven; but on Thursday, at twelve o'clock,
his spirit was released from its load. He
has put joff his sable livery, and is clothed in
white, and stands with 1 palms in his hands,
among the multitude of nations which no
man can number.' How much I shall miss
him every day, for I saw him every day, —-
every day!"
The following note is of a still later date:—
" I went to town on Saturday, to attend
Toussaint's funeral. High Mass, incense, can¬
dles, rich robes, sad and solemn music, were
there. The Church gave all it could give, to
prince or noble. The priest, his friend, Mr.
Quin, made a most interesting address. He
did not allude to his color, and scarcely to his
station ; it seemed as if his virtues as a man
and a Christian had absorbed all other
thoughts. A stranger would not have sus¬
pected that a black man, of his humble call¬
ing, lay in the midst of us. He said, ' Though
8
114
MEMOIR OF
no relative was left to mourn for him, yet
many present would feel that they had lost
one who always had wise counsel for the
rich, words of encouragement for the poor,
and all would be grateful for having known
him.'
" The aid he had given to the late Bishop
Fen wick of Boston, to Father Powers of our
city, to all the Catholic institutions, was
dwelt upon at large. How much I have learnt
of his charitable deeds, which I had never
known before! Mr. Quin said, ' There were
few left among the clergy superior to him in
devotion and zeal for the Church and for the
glory of God; among laymen, none.'
" The body of the church was well filled
with men, women, children, nuns, and charity
sisters; likewise a most respectable collection
of people of his own color, all in mourning.
Around stood many of the white race, with
their eyes glistening with emotion. When
Juliette was buried, Toussaint requested that
none of his white friends would follow her
remains; his request was remembered now,
PIERRE TOTTSSAINT.
115
and respected; they stood back as the coffin
was borne from the church, but when lowered
to its last depository, many were gathered
round his grave."
Thus lived and died Pierre Toussaint; and
of him it may be truly said, in the quaint lan¬
guage of Thomas Fuller, an old English di¬
vine, that he was " God's image carved in
ebony."
APPENDIX.
We insert the following notices, which ap¬
peared, among several others, after the death
of Tons saint, as they prove how much and
how universally he was respected and appre¬
ciated.
The following short notice of him appeared
the other day in two of the New York morn-
ing papers: —
" Pierre Toussaint, whose funeral will take
place this morning, at ten o'clock, from St.
Peter's Church, Barclay Street, was born in
the servitude of St. Domingo, and, in devoted
attendance upon his mistress in her flight
from that island, arrived in this city in 1787.
Here the former dependent became the sole
118
APPENDIX.
support of the unfortunate lady, and her
most disinterested friend until her death.
The occupation of ladies' hair-dresser gave
him admission to the houses of the influen¬
tial families of that day, and his good man¬
ners, unusual discrimination of character, and
high sense of propriety insured him the
countenance, courtesy, and esteem of all to
whom he was admitted, and the confidence
and friendship of many to whom the excel¬
lency of his life and character was more inti¬
mately known. All knew his general worth,
but few were acquainted with the generous
qualities of his heart, and with those prin¬
ciples of disinterested and genuine kindness
which governed his daily conduct. His char¬
ity was of the efficient character which did
not content itself with a present relief of
pecuniary aid, "but which required time and
thought by day and by night, and long watch¬
fulness and kind attentions at the bedside of
the sick and the departing. Thus goodness
springing from refined and elevated principle,
and from a sense of religious duty, which
never permitted him to omit a most scrupu¬
lous compliance with all the requirements of
his faith, formed the prominent feature of his
character, and made his life a constant round
appendix.
119
of acts of kindness and sympathy. By such
a life, governed by such principles of integrity,
charity, and religion, Toussaint secured to
himself the respect, esteem, and friendship of
many of our first citizens; and though death
has made the circle small in which he had
moved, there are yet remaining many who re¬
member his excellence and worth with the
kindest appreciation.
" S."
The following is an extract from a notice
that appeared in the New York Evening
Post: —
" Uncle Tom not an Apocryphal Char¬
acter.— A correspondent suggests to us, that
the aged black man, Pierre Toussaint, who
came to this city nearly sixty years ago from
St. Domingo, and last week closed a long,
useful, and blameless life, might, if Mrs. Stowe
could have been supposed to have known
him, have sat as the original of the portraiture
to which she gave the name of Uncle Tom.
Toussaint is spoken of by all who knew him
as a man of the warmest and most active be¬
nevolence, the gentlest temper, and the most
courteous and graceful, yet wholly unassum¬
ing manners. The successive pastors of St.
120
appendix.
Peter's Church had all the same opinion of
him, and it is said that, when the present pas¬
tor came to bury him, he observed that he had
not such a man left among his congregation.
It would be worth the while of any one who
kruew him well, to give in a brief memoir
some anecdotes of a life which was, through¬
out*, so shining an exapiple of goodness
" It is related of a gentleman, formerly of
this city, distinguished for the wit and point
of his conversation, that he was one day talk¬
ing with a lady, who instanced Hyde de Neu-
ville as more fully illustrating her idea of a per¬
fect gentleman than any other person she had
known. He replied: ' The most perfect gentle¬
man I have ever known is Pierre Toussaint.'"
The following is part of a notice in the
Home Journal, which, a few days after, pro¬
ceeded from the pen of Mr. Henry T. Tucker-
man : —
" Died on Thursday, June 30th, at his resi¬
dence in this city, Pierre Toussaint, in the
eighty-seventh year of his age.
"We cannot allow this brief announcement
to form the sole record of one whose example
is a higher vindication of his race, or rather a
APPENDIX.
121
nobler testimony to the beauty and force of
character, than all the works of fiction that
studious invention ever conceived. Pierre
Toussaint for more than sixty years has been
the most respected and beloved negro in
New York. He came here in 1787, with his
mistress He soon began to exercise
his rare talents as a ha4r-dresser, and became
indispensable to the ladies of New York, and
their children. A very few of the brides, whose
tresses he so daintily arrayed, yet survive; and
as long as any of them lived, Pierre paid them
regular visits, and was always certain of a
kind reception. He supported his beloved
mistress, not only in comfort, but luxury, when
her means failed, until the day of her death.
Meantime, he had associated himself with all
the best families. The wives and daughters
loved to listen to his tropical reminiscences, or
his cheerful comments on the news of the day,
as he adorned their heads for the evening par¬
ty ; and the children delighted to put them¬
selves under his kindly hands when the time
came for a hair-cutting. Pierre was thus busy
from morning to night After the
death of his mistress he married, and was en¬
abled to purchase a very good house in Frank¬
lin Street. He retired from business with an
122
APPENDIX.
adequate fortune, and thenceforth devoted
himself to social and benevolent duty. His
relations in the former respect were threefold;
first, to his cherished lady friends and their
families, whom he had attended in youth, and
towards whom he exhibited a disinterested
and loyal attachment, which seemed to be¬
long to a past age or <a different country, so
unique and touching was its manifestation
second, to the French population of New
York, to which he was attached by early as¬
sociation and native language; and thirdly,
to his own race, the mass of whom were so
much below him in tone of character and po¬
sition, that only a fraternal sentiment truly
Christian could have prompted his constant
interest in their welfare, and ready sympathy
in their pleasures and griefs. By these so
widely different classes Pierre was both re¬
spected and beloved. He moved among them
in a way peculiarly his own. He possessed
a sense of the appropriate, a self-respect,
and a uniformity of demeanor, which amount¬
ed to genius. No familiarity ever made him
forget what was due to his superiors, and
prosperity and reputation never hardened his
heart towards the less favored of his own
class.
APPENDIX.
123
" For sixty years he attended Mass at six in
the morning, as punctual as a clock, until
prostrated by illness. His days and nights
were given to visits, ministrations to the sick,
attendance upon the bereaved, and attempts
to reform the erring and console the afflicted.
Often strangers paused to look with
curiosity and surprise Upon the singular ta¬
bleau presented in Broadway of the venerable
negro, with both his hands clasped in greeting
by a lady high in the circles of fashion or
birth, and to watch the vivid interest of both,
as they exchanged inquiries for each other's
welfare.
" The last time I saw Pierre, he was seated
among a group of mourners, beside the coffin
of a lady venerated for years in the highest
social sphere of the city. She was almost the
last tie that bound him to the past. He had
visited her daily for thirty years, and brought
his offering of flowers ; and there he sat, with
his white head bowed in grief, and every line
of his honest sable face wet t with tears. It
was a beautiful homage to worth, — a beauti¬
ful instance of what may be the disinterested
relation between the exalted and the hum¬
ble, — when the genius of character and the
sentiment of religion bring them thus to¬
gether.
124
APPENDIX.
" Pierre was buried in the Cathedral church¬
yard, beside his wife and adopted child; and
his funeral was attended by gentlemen and
menials, his death-bed soothed by the fair¬
est, as well as venerated by the most humble
representatives of the wide circle included in
his sympathies and attracted by his worth.
Peace to the ashes of good, noble, loyal Pierre
Toussaint!"
THE END.