Читать книгу What You Do Is Who You Are - Бен Хоровиц, Ben Horowitz - Страница 12

Louverture was born into slavery on the Bréda estate sugar plantation in Saint-Domingue in, we think, 1743. Much of his personal history is fragmentary and uncertain—no one bothered to keep detailed records about obscure slaves. Historians also disagree about many of the turning points in the country’s revolution, agreeing only that its leader was an extraordinary man.

As a child, Louverture was so frail his parents called him “Sickly Stick” and did not expect him to live. Yet by age twelve, he had surpassed all the boys on the plantation with his athletic feats. In time he became known as the colony’s greatest horseman. Even as he neared sixty, he often rode 125 miles in a day.

Louverture was just five feet two and by no means handsome. Laconic, with a stern, probing glance, he was immensely energetic and focused. He slept two hours a night and could live for days on a few bananas and a glass of water. His education, position, and character gave him tremendous prestige among his fellow slaves long before the revolution. He never doubted that his destiny was to be their leader.

While still a teenager, he was made caretaker of the estate’s mules and oxen—a post usually held by a white man. Louverture seized this rare opportunity to educate himself in his free time and to read through his master’s library, including Julius Caesar’s Commentaries and Abbé Raynal’s Histoire des deux Indes, or History of two Indies, an encyclopedic account of trade between Europe and the Far East. Caesar’s work helped him understand politics and the art of war, and Raynal’s gave him a thorough grounding in the economics of the region and of Europe.

But his education and position did not exempt him from the fundamental indignity of being black. One day, as he was returning from Mass carrying his prayer book, a white man took notice. Louverture would recall that the man “broke my head with a wooden stick while telling me ‘do you not know that a negro should not read?’” Louverture apologized and stumbled home. He kept the vest soaked with his blood as a reminder of the incident. Years later, after the rebellion began, he met his tormenter again and, his biographer Philippe Girard writes with satisfaction, “killed him on the spot.”

The estate’s attorney, François Bayon de Libertat, recognized Louverture’s abilities and made him coachman. Around 1776, he freed Louverture; Louverture was now paid to drive Libertat’s coach. At the time, fewer than one in a thousand black men were set free. The father of the Haitian Revolution earned his freedom by forming a special bond with a white man.

Louverture used every carriage ride with Libertat to expand his network, making contact with nearly all of his future allies. The rides also enabled him first to understand, and then to master, French colonial ways. Louverture gradually came to a realization that no one else in colonial Saint-Domingue had arrived at: culture, not color, determined behavior.

One astonishing demonstration of this truth was that after he’d been freed, Louverture purchased slaves, usually to free them in turn. But he also strove to get ahead in the colonial manner, the only manner available to him at that point: off of slave labor. In 1779, in a brief and unsuccessful attempt to make money, he leased a coffee plantation worked by thirteen slaves. One of them was Jean-Jacques Dessalines, who in later years would become his second in command—and then go on to betray him.

If there was a motivational trigger for Louverture to turn from commerce to statecraft, perhaps it came in 1784, when he read a famous passage written by Abbé Raynal, a proponent of liberty who hoped for a slave revolt: “A courageous chief only is wanted. Where is he, that great man whom Nature owes to her vexed, oppressed, and tormented children? Where is he?” According to one account, Louverture read this passage over and over, dreaming that he might be that courageous chief.