Chapter Twenty

The Môle St. Nicolas

Secretary of State Blaine was disturbed. All morning bells had been ringing and secretaries scurrying around like mad. With the arrival of the New York shipowner, even the clerks in the outer offices knew that something was “in the wind.”

The “problem of the West Indies” was perhaps the most important unfinished business left over from the former Secretary of State. Blaine had seen himself succeeding where William Seward had failed. Circumstances were propitious and favorably disposed; the Môle St. Nicolas, most coveted prize in the Caribbean, was practically within his grasp—or had been.

Haiti, after seventy-five years of maintaining itself as firm and invulnerable as its own Citadel, was now torn and weakened by civil war. Six years before, a provisional government had been set up under a General Légitime. Gradually Légitime assumed control, and two years later France recognized his government as official. But for reasons of their own, business interests in the United States preferred dealing with General Hyppolite’s opposing forces, who termed the present régime that of “the usurpers of Port-au-Prince.” President Cleveland had listened to their advice and not recognized any government in Haiti. That left everything wide open. The U.S.-West Indies Line and the Charleston & Florida Steamship Line tackled shutting out the rival British Atlas Steamship Company, and the dire need for coaling stations was stressed in certain circles. At long last the United States had high hopes of locking up the narrow Windward Passage, one of the strategic routes on the world’s highway system of commerce.

Meanwhile Stephen Preston, Haitian Minister, was in the United States pleading for his country’s recognition. Blaine played acat-and-mouse game, putting the anxious Preston off from week to week, yet according him every ceremonial privilege as a minister and assuring him that the matter of official recognition only awaited its turn before the new President—Benjamin Harrison.

So matters stood in the latter part of May, 1889. Then Secretary Blaine made two moves. He told Preston his terms for recognition: a naval station in Haiti and representation of Haiti in European capitals by the American ambassador to those countries! The Haitian’s olive face paled. He murmured a few words, bowed and departed. The Secretary then sent to President Harrison the names of an “investigating commission” to go to Haiti. It was to be headed by Colonel Beverley Tucker of Virginia.

Out of a clear sky, with no word of warning, Blaine’s papers still lying unsigned on his desk, President Harrison recognized the Légitime government in Haiti. At the same time he appointed the most widely known Negro in America “Minister Resident and Consul-General to the Republic of Haiti and chargé d’affaires to Santo Domingo.”

“A pretty kettle of fish!” stormed the shipowner.

Secretary Blaine struggled to maintain his dignity.

“A little premature, perhaps,” he temporized. “But our President has gone on record as favoring the development of commerce with Latin America, and we have no reason to believe that Frederick Douglass will not co-operate in carrying forward the clearly expressed policies of his government.”

“You are a fool!” snapped the shipowner.

The Secretary’s face flushed, and a vein throbbed at his temple.

“You forget,” he said evenly after a moment, “or perhaps you do not know, that Frederick Douglass was Secretary of President Grant’s Santo Domingo Commission; and Douglass had no part in its failure.”

“Whatever the reasons, what interests me is that the United States didn’t get Samoná Bay.” The shipowner’s voice rasped. “I never trust those—thosepeople. It’s bad enough to have to do business with them in the islands. Well”—he made a gesture of resignation—“I didn’t come here to quarrel. You’ll simply have to handle this fellow.”

The Secretary picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. He was wondering how well he or anybody else could “handle” Frederick Douglass.

“I’ve already dictated a letter to him in which I express the hope that he will accept President Harrison’s appointment—”

The shipowner interrupted with something like a sneer.

“You’re certainly going out of your way to be cordial.”

“Ignorant calf!” was the Secretary’s unspoken thought. Aloud he continued as if he had not heard. “—because his influence as minister,” he said steadily, “is the most potent force we can send to the Caribbean for the peace, welfare and prosperity of those weary and unhappy people.”

“Um—um.” The idea was penetrating. “Not bad, not bad at all.”

“It can be late fall before he arrives.” They regarded each other across the flat-topped desk. “Meanwhile—”

“Meanwhile,” the shipowner was getting to his feet, “much can happen.”

“I was thinking that.”

“Perhaps the usurper, Légitime, will not be on hand to greet our new Ambassador.”

“Perhaps!”

The gentlemen bowed and separated.

That evening Stephen Preston sent a joyful letter home. “A miracle has taken place, truly a miracle!”

And on Cedar Hill the Douglasses sat on their porch and re-read the letter which a messenger had brought from Secretary of State Blaine.

“You deserve it, my dear. You deserve every bit of it!” She smiled at her husband, her eyes shining with happiness. Douglass’ voice was a little husky. The letter trembled in his hand.

“Secretary Blaine is right. This is important to every freedman in the United States. It’s important to that valiant small nation which owes its independence to a successful slave revolt. This recognition is important to dark peoples everywhere. I am so grateful that I’m here to do my part.”

And Helen Douglass reached out and took his hand. She was proud, so very proud of him.

Telegrams and letters of congratulation came in, not only from all over the United States, but from Mexico, South America, Africa. A clockmaker in Zurich sent Douglass a great clock carved from a huge block of wood.

Newspapers in the United States only mentioned an unexpected “turn-over” in Haiti “because it might affect the recent appointment.” But when on October 7, 1889, Légitime was thrown out of office and Hyppolite became president, the Administration declared it a purelydomestic matter, and the United States representative was instructed to proceed to his post. Unexplained “troubles” had delayed Douglass’ departure, but now the reasons for keeping him in Washington rapidly exhausted themselves. The first week in November, Douglass, accompanied by his wife, sailed for Port-au-Prince.

Nature is lavish with her gifts in the Caribbean. They thought they had seen her finest habiliments along the Riviera, but even world travelers hold their breath or speak in awed whispers as out of the violet distance emerges the loveliest jewel of the Antilles.

Across a bay of deepest blue, the purple of the mountains of La Gonaïve loomed against the western sky as if tossed from the cerulean depths of the gulf. Fanning up from the great bay rise the hills, wrinkled masses of green and blue and gray and orange, their dim wave of color relieved by crimson splotches of luxuriant gardens or by the pointed spires of trees.

The city of Port-au-Prince spilled over into the water with its crowded harbor, large and small boats and white sails skimming over the surface. In the center of the city rose the great Gothic cathedral, to one side the white palace occupied by Haiti’s President.

Two smart, attentive officials were on the dock to meet Frederick Douglass. Behind sleek, glistening horses they drove the new Minister and his wife to the spacious villa which was to be their home. The house was already staffed with servants, who gathered, European fashion, to greet the new tenants. The maids smiled shyly at Mrs. Douglass, then whisked her away to her rooms. The officials took their leave, saying that the President would be happy to receive Mr. Douglass at his pleasure.

That afternoon, accompanied by his secretary, who would also act as interpreter, Douglass drove to the palace to present his credentials. He was cordially received by a uniformed adjutant. In a short while they were being ushered up a wide, sweeping staircase and into a frescoed hall. They paused here.

“There is the anchor of theSanta Maria,” the secretary whispered, “the anchor Columbus lowered in the Môle St. Nicolas.”

Douglass walked closer. He was so deeply absorbed that he did not see the huge doors swing open. The secretary had to touch his arm. The President of Haiti was coming to greet the representative from the United States, his hand extended. They went in to his study.

President Hyppolite was large and dark. He knew he was in adangerous game. He knew that he was only a pawn. Wary and watchful, he listened more than he talked. For underneath everything else—far deeper than personal ambitions—was his determination to keep Haiti out of the scheming hands that clutched at her so greedily.

He hated all Spaniards, Frenchmen, Englishmen and Americans with equal intensity. He studied this brown American, this ex-slave, who carried himself with such dignity and who spoke with such assurance. Hyppolite wondered how much the other man knew. He attended his visitor’s words carefully, listening to catch any additional meanings in his voice. He understood English, but he remained silent, his large head slightly cocked to one side until the interpreter translated Douglass’ words into French.

He answered in French. Choosing his words carefully, he expressed his approval of “growing commercial intercommunications,” his hope for closer and “mutually helpful” relations with the United States. Then he touched upon Haiti’s long and independent existence and said that each nation has the right to be proud of its autonomy.

“For a long time Haiti was an outcast among the nations of the world. But Haiti remembers that the victory of Toussaint L’Ouverture was as important to the United States as it was to Britain. By exterminating the armies of Leclerc, we at the same time destroyed Napoleon’s dream of an empire in the Mississippi valley. He was glad to sell Louisiana at any price.”

The President was satisfied with the expression which lighted Douglass’ face when the interpreter had translated these words. His rather grim face broke into a smile.

“I speak a little English,” he said in English.

Douglass grinned and returned with:

“J’ai étudié le francais—un—une peu—mais ma femme—” he stopped, spreading his hands hopelessly.

They laughed together then, and the rest of the visit Hyppolite spoke English.

“Here you will learn the French—but quick,” he said. “Altogether we will help you.”

Douglass expressed his own and his wife’s appreciation of the preparations for their comfort, and President Hyppolite said that without doubt Mrs. Douglass would be very busy receiving the ladies of Port-au-Prince.

After Douglass had bowed out, the President stood for a few minutes drumming on his desk. Then he pulled a cord which summoned a certain gentleman of state.

“Your Excellency!” The man waited. President Hyppolite spoke rather slowly, in concise French.

“The Frederick Douglass is an honorable man. He intends to discharge his duties in a manner which will bring credit and distinction to his people and to his nation. It is to be remembered at all times that Mr. Douglass is, first of all, Ambassador of the United States.”

“Yes, Your Excellency!”

The President dismissed him with a nod. Then he walked to the window and stood looking at the Square. From this window he could not see the middle of the Champs de Mars, but he was thinking of the statue there—the statue of a black soldier thrusting his sword toward the sky. This statue of Dessalines is Haiti’s symbol of her struggle for freedom. Hyppolite sighed as he turned away from the window.

He wondered if there might be a better way.

Back in Washington activities had been bent upon getting John Durham sent as special consul to Port-au-Prince because of his “special fitness for the job.” Once more President Harrison’s action proved disappointing. He sent John Durham to Santo Domingo City. It began to be whispered about in Washington and New York that the Haitians had snubbed Frederick Douglass and his wife. Stephen Preston heard the rumors just before he sailed for home. He suspected their origin, but he decided to hold his peace until he reached Port-au-Prince.

“Frederick,” Helen Douglass said, “this place will be my undoing! Such ease is positively shameful. My only exercise is changing clothes for another reception or dinner party. And the food!” Her voice became a wail of despair. “I’m getting fat!”

He laughed.

“Well, madam, I might suggest horseback riding. I’m feeling fine!”

She shook her head.

“You? I can’t go galloping around these mountains the way you do.”

It was true. Frederick Douglass estimated his age to be over seventy. Yet he was spending hours every day in the saddle.

“It’s the only way one can see Haiti!”

They took the boat to Cap Haitien, and while Helen was entertained in one of the big white houses set on the slopes and surrounded by a tropical garden, Douglass, accompanied by other horsemen, rodeup to the summit of Bonne-à-l’Evêque. Gradually the earth fell away until the rocky edges of the mountain showed like snarling teeth, and the foothills below seemed like jungle forest. An earthquake in 1842 was said to have shaken the Citadel to the danger point; but Douglass, viewing this mightiest fortress in the Western world, doubted whether any human army with all its modern equipment could take it. Christophe had built his Citadel at a height of twenty-six hundred feet—an amazing feat of engineering so harmoniously constructed through and through that, though thousands and thousands of natives must have died during the course of its construction, one could almost believe it the work of one man.

Douglass stood at the massive pile which is now the tomb of the most dominant black man in history.

“If a nation’s greatness can at all be measured by its great soldiers,” he thought, “then little Haiti, with its Toussaint L’Ouverture, Jean Jacques Dessalines and Henri Christophe, must surely be listed among the first!”

Another day they took him up a high cliff overlooking the Môle St. Nicolas.

“You have perhaps heard that Abbé Raynal called it the Gibraltar of the West Indies,” the Haitian commented, watching Douglass’ face.

“See,” the second companion pointed with his riding crop, “the harbor is practically landlocked. The entrance is only four miles wide and deep enough on both sides to permit the largest vessels to pass close to shore. At two hundred yards from land bottom is not touched with an eighty-fathom line.”

Douglass gazed in wonder. The waters of the bay spread out, smooth and unruffled as a great lake. The land on which they stood at the right of the entrance rose sharply. Opposite, a wooded plain extended. At the end of the bay clustered a group of buildings with the clear sheen of water right in the middle of them.

“Man could not have designed anything so perfect,” Douglass murmured.

The first Haitian spoke again.

“They say all the fleets in Europe could lie here secure from every wind. And the largest vessels in fifty fathoms of water could have cables on land.”

“It is incredible!”

The Haitian turned as if to mount his horse. He spoke carelessly.

“A powerful nation holding this harbor might easily control not only the Caribbeans but South America as well.”

“But a friendly nation,” Douglass reasoned with great sincerity, “with the means at hand might use this harbor to bring prosperity to all the Caribbean.”

“Ce soit possible!”

Douglass did not know French well enough to catch the slight sarcasm in the Haitian’s words.

As they rode down the trail they spoke only of the scenery.

In November the United States warshipYanticsteamed into the Môle, and Douglass reported that frequent references in the American press to alleged desires on the part of his country to obtain bases there were arousing fears among the Haitian people. Strangely enough, Douglass now found himself the point of attack by the press. They said he was not the man for the post.

“The fault of my character,” Douglass wrote later, “was that upon it there could be predicated no well-grounded hope that I would allow myself to be used, or allow my office to be used, to further selfish schemes of any sort for the benefit of individuals, either at the expense of Haiti or at the expense of the character of the United States.”[33]

Events moved rapidly. Certain facts became apparent to Douglass, and in March, 1890, he wrote to Secretary Blaine that certain American business interests were bringing pressure upon Haiti. Douglass had not at this time seen a report recorded by the Bureau of Navigation, received January 22, 1890, which read:

The strategical value of this Island from a naval point of view is invaluable, and this increases in direct proportion to the millions which American citizens are investing in the Nicaragua Canal. The United States cannot afford to allow any doubt to rest in the minds of any Haitian as to our fixed determination to allow no one to gain a foothold on, or establish a protectorate over this Island.

Home on leave for a few weeks in August, Douglass spoke on Haiti to a large audience in Baltimore. He noted he had recently been under attack by the press of the country.

“I believe the press has become reconciled to my presence in theoffice except those that have a candidate for it,” he said, “and they give out that I am going to resign. At them I fling the old adage ‘Few die, and none resign.’ I am going back to Haiti.”

Let us take Douglass’ own account of what happened the following winter. It appeared in theNorth American Review, September, 1891.

On January 26, 1891, Rear Admiral Gherardi, having arrived at Port-au-Prince, sent one of his under-officers on shore to the United States Legation, to invite me on board his flagship, thePhiladelphia.... I went on board as requested, and there for the first time I learned that I was to have some connection with negotiations for a United States coaling-station at the Môle St. Nicolas; and this information was imparted to me by Rear Admiral Gherardi. He told me in his peculiarly emphatic manner that he had been duly appointed a United Sates special commissioner; that his mission was to obtain a naval station at the Môle St. Nicolas; and that it was the wish of Mr. Blaine and Mr. Tracy, and also of the President of the United States, that I should earnestly co-operate with him in accomplishing this object. He further made me acquainted with the dignity of his position, and I was not slow in recognizing it.In reality, some time before the arrival of Admiral Gherardi on this diplomatic scene, I was made acquainted with the fact of his appointment. There was at Port-au-Prince an individual, acting as agent of a distinguished firm in New York, who appeared to be more fully initiated into the secrets of the State Department at Washington than I was, and who knew, or said he knew, all about the appointment of Admiral Gherardi, whose arrival he diligently heralded in advance, and carefully made public in all the political and business circles to which he had access. He stated that I was discredited at Washington, had, in fact, been suspended and recalled, and that Admiral Gherardi had been duly commissioned to take my place. It is unnecessary to say that it placed me in an unenviable position, both before the community of Port-au-Prince and before the government of Haiti.

In reality, some time before the arrival of Admiral Gherardi on this diplomatic scene, I was made acquainted with the fact of his appointment. There was at Port-au-Prince an individual, acting as agent of a distinguished firm in New York, who appeared to be more fully initiated into the secrets of the State Department at Washington than I was, and who knew, or said he knew, all about the appointment of Admiral Gherardi, whose arrival he diligently heralded in advance, and carefully made public in all the political and business circles to which he had access. He stated that I was discredited at Washington, had, in fact, been suspended and recalled, and that Admiral Gherardi had been duly commissioned to take my place. It is unnecessary to say that it placed me in an unenviable position, both before the community of Port-au-Prince and before the government of Haiti.

Anyone may read a carefully documented account of the negotiations which followed in Rayford Logan’sDiplomatic Relations of the United States with Haiti. There can be no question that Douglass strove to carry out the wishes of his government while at the sametime “maintaining the good character of the United States.” He clearly regretted certain features of the negotiations.

Not the least, perhaps, among the collateral causes of our non-success was the minatory attitude assumed by us while conducting the negotiation. What wisdom was there in confronting Haiti at such a moment with a squadron of large ships of war with a hundred cannon and two thousand men? This was done, and it was naturally construed into a hint to Haiti that if we could not, by appeals to reason and friendly feeling, obtain what we wanted, we could obtain it by a show of force. We appeared before the Haitians, and before the world, with the pen in one hand and the sword in the other. This was not a friendly and considerate attitude for a great government like ours to assume when asking a concession from a small and weak nation like Haiti. It was ill-timed and out of all proportion to the demands of the occasion. It was also done under a total misapprehension of the character of the people with whom we had to deal. We should have known that, whatever else the Haitian people may be, they are not cowards, and hence are not easily scared.

Frederick Douglass was blamed for the failure of the negotiations. He did resign the summer of 1891.

Logan says, “My own belief is that Douglass was sincerely desirous of protecting the interests of a country of the same race as his, while at the same time carrying out the wishes of his government and upholding the integrity of that government. His failure was due rather to the fact that there was no real public demand for the Môle, that Harrison was not prepared to use force.... After all, the Panama Canal had not been built; the United States had not even obtained her release from the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty so that she could construct a canal under her own control. The use of force against Haiti had to wait until the canal had been constructed, until the United States had become a world power, until a new period of recurrent revolutions had increased the impatience in the State Department, and until the attention fixed upon the World War permitted the military occupation of Haiti without arousing too much protest in the United Sates.”[34]

In 1893 the Haitian government appointed Douglass Haiti’s Commissioner to the World Columbian Exposition at Chicago; andin 1899 Haiti contributed the first thousand dollars toward the bronze statue of Frederick Douglass now standing in one of the public parks of Rochester. Speaking in 1932, Dantes Bellegarde, Haitian Minister to the United States, expressed the belief that were Frederick Douglass still living he “would be among those who most ardently approved the doctrine of international morality.... A policy respectful of the rights of small nations such as had been exemplified in the activities of Douglass while United States Minister in Haiti, is the only policy capable of assuring to a powerful nation like the United States the real and profound sympathy of the states of Latin America.”

Frederick Douglass was now nearly eighty years old. He had not retired from public life. His snow-white bushy hair, topping the straight, well-set figure was a familiar sight wherever people gathered to plan a stronger, nobler nation, to build a more understanding world. His faith in his country and in its ultimate destiny rendered him tolerant; his ready wit was gentle. Little knots of people gathered round him wherever he went and found themselves repeating his stories and remembering best of all his rare good humor. The villagers in Anacostia were proud of him. They told of the visitors who came from far and near seeking his home.

On the morning of February 15, 1895, Susan B. Anthony arrived in Washington to open the second triennial meeting of the National Woman’s Council. This was her seventy-fifth birthday, and that afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Douglass called to express their good wishes and congratulations.

The big open meeting of the session was to be February 20. During the morning Frederick Douglass appeared and, amid resounding applause, was invited to the platform by the president, Mrs. Sewall. He accepted, but declined to speak, acknowledging the applause only by a bow.

It was one of those bitterly cold days, and Douglass reached home just in time for supper. He was in high good spirits. Even while he shook off the snow and removed his boots in the hall he was recounting the happenings of the day.

“Miss Anthony was at her best!” he said as he stood before the big open fire, warming his hands.

“I’m a little tired,” he said after supper. He had started up the stairs and stopped, apparently to look at the picture of John Brown which hung there on the wall. His wife, in the living room, turned quickly. The phrase was unlike him.

And then he fell. He was dead before they could get him to his room.

All the great ones spoke at his funeral. Susan B. Anthony read Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s memorial to the only man who had sustained her demand for the enfranchisement of women at the first convention back in 1848.

There have been many memorials to him—in marble and bronze, in song and poetry. But stone and wood are dead, and only we can make words come alive. Frederick Douglass’ words reach us across the years:

Though I am more closely connected and identified with one class of outraged, oppressed and enslaved people, I cannot allow myself to be insensible to the wrongs and suffering of any part of the great family of man. I am not only an American slave, but a man, and as such, am bound to use my powers for the welfare of the whole human brotherhood.... I believe that the sooner the wrongs of the whole human family are made known, the sooner those wrongs will be reached.[35]

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