to hold any communication with his family. As the vessel sailed away from St. Domingo, Toussaint, gazing on the outline of its mountains for the last time, said, "They have cut down the tree of Liberty; but the roots are many and deep, and it will sprout again."

Toussaint l'Ouverture was even then incapable of imagining the base designs against him. He supposed that he had been accused of something, and was to be carried to France for trial. Conscious of uniform fidelity to the French government, he felt no uneasiness as to the result, though the treachery and violence with which he had been treated in return for his great services made[75] him very sad. Arrived on the shores of France, he was removed to another vessel, and allowed only a few moments to say farewell to his wife and children. They embraced him with tears, and begged him to remember them, who had always loved him so dearly.

[75]

From the vessel, instead of being carried to Paris for trial, as he expected, he was hurried into a carriage, and, followed by a strong guard, was carried to the dismal Castle of Joux, near the borders of Switzerland. That ancient castle stands among the mountains of Jura, on the summit of a solid rock five hundred feet high. He was placed in a deep, dark dungeon, from the walls of which the water dripped continually. This was in August, 1802. But though it was summer elsewhere, it was damp and cold in Toussaint's dreary cell. The keeper was allowed about four shillings a day to provide food for him; and one faithful servant, who had accompanied the family from St. Domingo, was allowed to remain with him.

His spirits were kept up for some time with the daily expectation of being summoned to attend his trial. But time passed on, and he could obtain no tidings from the French government, or from his family. In a letter to General Bonaparte, beseeching him to let him know of what he was accused, and to grant him a trial, he wrote:—

"I have served my country with honor, fidelity, and integrity. All who know me will do me the justice to acknowledge this. At the time of the revolution, I spent all I had in the service of my country. I purchased but one small estate, on which to establish my wife and family. I neglected nothing for the welfare of St. Domingo. I made it my duty and pleasure to develop all the resources[76] of that beautiful colony. Since I entered the service of the republic I have not claimed a penny of my salary. I have taken money from the treasury only for public use. If I was wrong in forming a constitution, it 

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