The Black Napoleon
by
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Fort de Joux, designed by the Romans to facilitate their invasion of Gaul, dominated the high road between France and Switzerland. The towering, forbidding structure, sitting astride a rocky promontory in the French Alps, had become a prison during the reign of Louis XIV.
Snow-covered mountains surrounding de Joux cast a gloomy twilight over the area by late afternoon. A wind, chilled by the perennial glaciers and dampened by low cloud cover, assaulted Toussaint's weakened body.
He stood, surrounded by guards on the ice-covered courtyard. An officer of Dragoons and the commander of Fort de Joux Prison methodically acted out the ceremony of signing and exchanging papers, wherein the one terminated and the other assumed responsibility for the quiet, fragile, black man) who wondered what the ugly pile of stone held for him.
Finally) formalities concluded) salutes and courtesies exchanged, the numbered prisoner was handed to the Captain of Security) Colomier, flanked by two impassive guards. The interior of de Joux surpassed, in stark reality, the threatening exterior. Long) gloomy corridors glistened with rivulets of melted snow. Torches in wall brackets deepened rather than dispelled the oppressive) impenetrable shadows.
Captain Colomier led the procession through interminable turns, stairwells, and passageways burrowing deep into the chateau's hideous places of secret agonies. Arched cell openings) heavily barred) lined the passageway. Shimmering light from the wall-hung torches penetrated an occasional cell sufficiently to bring the wretched occupant into 436
view. An undertone of mumbling, cursing, and praying pervaded.
Due to an angle in the corridor and the placement of a torch, one cell was provided with a comparative abundance of light. As they passed, Toussaint glanced into the barred cage and stopped abruptly; then slowly turned to face the disheveled, bearded inmate sitting on a pile of straw, cross-legged, with his hands manacled to the cell wall. The eyes, spots of fire in the haggard face, stared at Toussaint's bedraggled but recognizable general's uniform, then fixed on Toussaint's face as recognition registered with both men.
Colomier made a sign to the guards and waited a few steps removed.
'Captain Colomier-' Rigaud shouted and pulled himself upright, his head thrust forward.
'Do you know what you have there? The king of the savages, a leader of Negro slaves who have the effrontery to call themselves soldiers. And he, killer of women and children, executioner of your noble Legionnaires, your countrymen. Captain-he is to be addressed as General.' Yes, Governor-General of your precious West Indies colony, Haiti...'
Rigaud's shrieking laughter added a sinister, threatening horror to the place. Confinement in de Joux was now a reality for Toussaint, standing motionless, studying his former adversary, whose disintegration struck hard at something deep inside the Governor-General.
'You have never understood your tragic choice) the cause of your grievous fate. So you found in me a contrived enemy- God help you now.'
Rigaud underwent a transformation. Relaxing, settling back against the wall, his voice was soft, almost gentle. 'We could not change the world we were born into, nor the color of our skin. And that, General Toussaint, was the cross each of us bore on our long journey to-this . . .'
He made an attempt at a gesture with his left hand. The chain played out. He sat silent, hand still raised.
Fort deJoux
Colomier nodded and stepped back as Toussaint turned to face Rigaud, who pulled on his chains and shouted: 'What I made of it was to rise above you, to my rightful place. In so doing I did not descend the ladder to become one of half a million Africans. Damn you, Governor-General, you have brought us all down to their festering state.'
Toussaint pulled his cloak close, shaking with cold. He spoke with quiet passion. 'You might have had aspirations to become an emperor, a king. Dreams are not the stuff that can sustain impossible goals. Our fate is determined by circumstance, some of it unchangeable. You admired and envied the soaring sea-birds. The means to achieve your desire was never within your power. Disregarding that hard truth, you jumped off the cliff, thinking you could-through the strength of your will-soar over the waves.' Colomier stared at Toussaint, his expression a mixture of enchantment and wonder, until the gentle man concluded: 'What might have been will occupy our intellect until our journeys' end.' Toussaint stepped closer to the barred cell, his voice not much more than a strong whisper. 'General Rigaud-you have come to this-believing black can be white.' The caged prisoner's response was in kind. 'And what of you? You have arrived at de Toux, a final resting place for fallen heroes.'
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Colomier's patience was remarkable. It may have been that knowing the chance encounter would, in all likelihood, never be repeated, he permitted the Haitians a few moments before the eternity awaiting them, displaying his instinctive respect for rank, an unconscious deference strong within him. He waited and watched.
Toussaint put out one hand, gripping a bar to steady himself. 'I have never understood-your hatred of blacks went undiminished. What could have extinguished your hostility?'
There was a shrill tremor to Rigaud's laugh and a note of rising anger as he shouted: 'The black strain contaminates, poisons, marks, and betrays all who are cursed-better say condemned. Remove the cause-that was my war.
Toussaint stepped back, his voice almost unheard. 'You would have destroyed me because I am black. The war of the skin, an ignoble purpose. Whatever caused your imprisonment, it is better for Haiti that you are here.'
Toussaint managed a smile. 'When you elected to serve with Leclerc, your expectations did not encompass confinement in the dungeons of de Joux.' Rigaud's voice was strong, accusing. 'Expectations create men) treachery and jealousy destroy them. You disapprove of ambition, Governor-General?' His tone was derisive. As he uttered the title of rank he smiled.
'Ambition of itself and for oneself is seldom embellished with virtue. Your words are understood by me more than you may think. I have known, to my sorrow, disappointment as great as any man.'
Rigaud's bitterness was uncontrolled as he shouted: 'Governor-General VOuverture's expectations-did they envision his brother Paul and his strong arms, Dessalines and Christophe, joining forces with his people's enemies?'
Toussaint began to turn away as he answered: 'No more than he did your choice.'
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About the Book
THE BLACK NAPOLEON relates, in fast-paced storytelling, racial conflicts caused by unbending political and social attitudes meeting head-on with strong and determined black efforts to establish a free society. Color lines are crossed and re-crossed as the passions of the many-tiered society explode.
The coals of the revolution of 1795-1803 that overturned the Bourbon dynasty of the French royal house ignited a fire on the island of Haiti in the Caribbean more than two thousand miles west of France and light years distant in human affairs. French Colonists had established paradise for themselves and a living hell for five hundred thousand black slaves. A parade of memorable giants live within these pages: Toussaint L'Ouverture, Napoleon, Christophe, Leclerc, Dessalines, Rochambeau, Hardy, Rigaud, Jeannot, planter Henri Julian, Neville, Rubidoux, Susan L'Ouverture, Count de Noe, Minister Talleyrand and Pauline Leclerc, Napoleon's sibling who brought an unprecedented level of social behavior to that licentious society.
Fifty years a slave, Toussaint L'Ouverture, liberator of Haiti, was a legend in his time. His passionate belief that the enslavement of his people must end carried through the terror and bloodshed that destroyed Napoleon's legions and dispossessed the French colonists. Four words tell the story, 'war of the skin,' as the parade of monumental historical characters intrigue and deceive in that garden spot of the Caribbean.
About the Author
James Jess Hannon's final drafts followed a near fatal accident outside the U.S. that demanded many years of therapy and recovery. He has written original story concepts and treatments for John Wayne, Batjac Productions, Paul Donnelly, Universal Studios, Marlon Brando Sr., Pennebaker Studio, Phil Yordon 20th Century Fox and others.
The author's inventory of novels and screenplays offers a wide variety of plots, locations and dates, i.e., THE BLACK NAPOLEON is set during the Napoleonic era, JUDGE NOT takes place in San Francisco, California in the 1990's, AMELIA EARHART 1945 in north China, World War II, THE KNIFE in the imperial County 1907, ODYSSEY OF JIM DOPYLE during the great depression, LAST WEEKEND in Hollywood, a current story, and many others ranging far and wide in time and place.
A wonderful air of authenticity is present in all of his works, some growing out of personal experience. Hannon holds an Honorable Discharge from the U.S. Navy, the Royal Canadian Air Force and the U.S. Army, Paratroop Infantry and Military Intelligence.
THE BLACK NAPOLEON is an unusual achievement involving extensive research over the years utilizing libraries in Paris, London, New York and Los Angeles evidenced in the remarkable story line.