Read Avengers of the New World: The Story of the Haitian Revolution Online
Authors: Laurent Dubois
c h a p t e r s i x
Defiance
Inlate1792theslavePhilipeauwroteagaintohisowner,Madame
de Mauger, in France. “I am black, but, my dear mistress, I am true
and loyal,” he declared. He was raising his children to love and fear
God, he announced, and to faithfully respect their masters. Philipeau did
not complain about the plantation manager, as he had years before. In-
stead, he wrote to Mauger of the profits “I made this year.” He was now—
as he had long argued he should be—the manager of her indigo planta-
tion. It was not, however, Mauger’s generosity or farsightedness that had
brought this about. Indeed, although he must have assumed she knew
what had happened, Philipeau was reticent about announcing the change
too openly. His new power had come from revolt: sometime during the
previous months, he and other slaves had risen up and forced their hated
manager off the plantation.1
In a world overshadowed by the smoke of the slave revolt in the north,
slaves throughout the colony were emboldened to speak and strike out
against the hierarchies of slavery. Indeed Mauger had, within a few
months, completely lost control of both of her plantations. Early in 1792
the slaves on her sugar plantation had risen up against their manager. “Your
blacks have forced me out of your plantation, having pillaged and stolen
everything and threatened to kill me,” the deposed manager wrote in May.
“Right now they are doing as they please.” Even before this had happened
things were difficult on the plantation; it had been impossible to build a
needed mill because the carpenter had been killed fighting the insurgents.
“The colony is depopulated of whites,” the manager lamented. He had
seen enough. Fearing for his safety, he left for France.2
Mauger’s slaves presented their demands with a confidence that
shocked those who confronted them. When a group of whites from Saint-
Marc, acting on Mauger’s behalf, went to her sugar plantation two months
later to replace the expelled manager, the slaves responded unequivocally.
“Our surprise was extreme,” wrote the visitors, “to hear them all shout that
they didn’t want any more whites.” It turned out that a free man of color
named Enard had “taken over the management of the plantation without
anyone asking him to.” When Mauger’s representatives came to the planta-
tion, the slaves announced they were quite happy with Enard’s services and
wanted “no others.” The visitors explained that Enard was less qualified
than the white manager they had chosen. They had every legal right to
choose who would manage the plantation, and the slaves had, in principle,
no right to refuse. But when Mauger’s representatives insisted, the assem-
bled slaves made “murmurs and threats” and showered them with jokes
and insults, and the whites retreated.3
Faced with such united resistance, whites found they had little power to
respond. Mauger’s representatives asked local administrators to punish the
rebellious slaves. But with so few troops at their disposal in front of widening slave resistance, there was little they could do. A month later Mauger’s
administrators named another man, a sugar refiner, to take control of the
plantation, but the slaves expelled him too. In the end, Mauger’s represen-
tatives accepted Enard’s presence, and even paid him and sent food to the
plantation. “Men are vindictive, and we are in a century in which it seems
everything is permitted,” they wrote apologetically to Mauger. Only the de-
feat of the slave insurgents of the north could bring the slaves of the West-
ern Province back under control. Although on many plantations slaves re-
mained “tranquil,” they were not “working too hard.” “We are forced to
close our eyes and reward them anyway. It is quite cruel, but the hope of a
different future gives us patience.”4
These events paralleled those on Mauger’s indigo plantation, where
Philipeau had taken charge. In his letter to Mauger, Philipeau at first dis-
tanced himself from what had happened: he wrote that the slaves had
“taken advantage of the revolution to fire your manager.” But then he
made clear that he had both approved and participated: “You know that if I
had been master, he would have been kicked out of here six years ago for
his bad behavior.” He assured Mauger: “We did nothing bad to him. We
did not hurt him.” And then he gave her an order of his own. Rather than
being angry with her slaves, he told Mauger to “bless God that this man is
no longer on your property.” She could depend on him to keep things run-
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ning on the plantation, he insisted. The slaves had not left, and they had
not killed or hurt anyone. Indeed, “since the revolution” there had been
three “little creoles” born. Her property was increasing under his care.5
In his letters Philipeau presented himself as his mistress’ humble ser-
vant. He declared he would be happy to accept a new manager, whether
“white” or “mulatto.” In a letter they wrote several months later to Mauger,
a group of other slaves from the plantation declared they were repentant
about what they had done. “All the subjects in Saint-Domingue have felt
the loss of reason,” they noted. But at the same time they justified their behavior, describing how the old manager had “tyrannized” them, and point-
ing, as Philipeau had years before, to the financial losses she suffered as
proof of this. “We are slaves and your subjects, and we give ourselves over
to work as we should, but humanity must interest itself in our fate.” They
had a right to be treated according to certain rules, they asserted, and to
take action when they were wronged by those in power. Philipeau had
taken a bold step years before in writing to his mistress to ask her to intervene on behalf of her slaves. In the new context created by the insurrection
of 1791, he and the other Mauger slaves had gone further, using their num-
bers and their determination to take over the plantation themselves. They
understood that those in charge had little power to resist and would ulti-
mately be forced to negotiate with them over the terms of their labor. Like
slaves elsewhere in the Artibonite region, and throughout the Western
Province, they did not destroy or abandon the plantations, but they began
to make them their own.6
At the beginning of 1792, while much of the Northern Province had been
overtaken by slave revolt, the west and the south were still relatively un-
touched by open insurrection. During the year, however, the compass of
slave action expanded dramatically in these regions. Some slaves attacked
their masters and took control of their plantations, and by the end of the
year independent bands of insurgent slaves had established themselves in
parts of the south. Slave revolution, initially limited to the Northern Prov-
ince, now engulfed much of the colony. It was groups of whites and free-
coloreds—many of them plantation owners—who laid the foundation for
this expansion of slave revolution by arming slaves to fight alongside them
in their violent battles against one another.
Free-colored leaders had initially shied away from using this tactic. In
his 1790 revolt Vincent Ogé refused to mobilize slaves, as some suggested
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he should. And in the south in January 1791 free-coloreds turned down an
offer of support from a group of several hundred conspiring plantation
slaves. These insurgents, like those who would set in motion the revolt in
the north several months later, were inspired by the rumor of the king of
France’s grant to plantation slaves of three free days per week; they were
determined to force the local administration to enforce the decree. The
free-coloreds, though they promised to issue such a demand, were not will-
ing actually to join forces with the slave conspirators. Although the latter
decided to go ahead with their revolt anyway, their plans were discovered
and their leaders arrested and imprisoned before they could act. The slaves
of the south would have to wait for the slaves of the north to open the way.7
A year later most of the slaves of the south were still on their planta-
tions. But male slaves increasingly found opportunities for individual free-
dom. As their battles with local whites continued, some free-coloreds con-
cluded that they could not win without slave recruits. Bands operating
in the countryside held out the promise of liberty to men from the planta-
tions who would join them in fighting the whites. Slaves had reason to be
wary of such promises. Many probably knew of what happened to the
Swiss—the slave insurgents who had joined with the free-coloreds in
the early 1790s—most of whom had found death instead of liberty. Never-
theless many slaves responded. Sometimes they were given little choice.
Troops of free-coloreds occupied plantations, seeking to win over the
drivers on plantations abandoned by their owners. If the driver resisted,
they sometimes cut up his whip—a symbol of his power—or, worse, shot
him. In some cases these bands also pillaged and burned the houses of
the slaves. Once the free-coloreds were drawing recruits from among the
slaves, whites had little choice but to respond in kind or be overwhelmed.
By the end of 1791 whites in several parts of the south had freed their own
slaves and made them soldiers. Les Cayes passed a decree ordering that
one-tenth of the local slaves be recruited to fight the free-coloreds.8
Most free people of color (many of whom, like the Raimond family,
owned plantations in the area) shared with whites a desire to see slavery
maintained in the area, and assumed—reasonably enough, given the long
history of slave recruitment in Saint-Domingue and elsewhere in the
Americas—that the granting of freedom to some slaves in return for their
service would not fundamentally undermine their own power or wealth.
But, called on to be auxiliaries in a war that was not their own, slaves
gained military experience and new political perspectives. Once they were
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serving “as equals in arms” they took “as an accomplished fact the freedom
they were promised.” As one planter wrote, the slaves who had left planta-
tions for military camps had “lost the habit of working” and in the process
became “accustomed to thinking.” Once the war between the whites and
free-coloreds came to an end, many of them began fighting their own war.9
In the west, where conflicts between whites and free-coloreds had been
raging since the disintegration of the various “Concordats” signed in 1791,
slaves were also increasingly recruited as auxiliaries. Port-au-Prince, still the stronghold of the white radicals, was under siege by the troops of free-coloreds. But the latter had enemies outside the town as well. In the
Artibonite region a planter named Claude Isaac Borel—who was a repre-
sentative in the Colonial Assembly—turned his plantation into an armed
camp and, fighting under a red flag, launched attacks against free-coloreds
in the area. He transformed the community of white saltmakers who lived
in the region into an armed band to fight with him. In the face of Borel’s
successes, free-coloreds in the region began recruiting slaves from local
plantations. As in the south, when the slave drivers on certain plantations
refused to cooperate, the free-coloreds sometimes killed them. The civil
war profoundly undermined the authority of masters in the Artibonite
plain and created new fissures in the system that held slaves in check.10
The white radicals of Port-au-Prince, too, began recruiting slaves to
fight for them. Jean-Baptiste de Caradeux, a planter who had previously
armed his own plantation slaves, created the “Company of Africans,” re-
cruiting among urban slaves. They carried out raids on the Cul-de-Sac
plain and in March 1792 joined with troops of white patriots in attack-
ing the free-colored stronghold at Croix-des-Bouquets. As these troops
marched across the plain, they raided plantations, taking the pigs and
chickens of many slaves, and forced some to join their ranks. The fortu-
itous arrival of a solar eclipse as they marched added to the terror they in-
spired in their opponents. Although slaves on one plantation fought back,
for the most part the Port-au-Prince troops encountered little resistance
from them or the outnumbered free-coloreds, who retreated from Croix-
des-Bouquets. Soon, however, the tide turned. An army of slaves, angered
by the depredations against them and encouraged by emissaries from the
free-coloreds, rose up on the plantations of the plain and converged on
Croix-des-Bouquets. Ten to fifteen thousand strong, armed with sticks and
machetes, they marched into battle behind Hyacinthe, who waved a horse-
hair talisman meant to protect them from enemy fire. “Don’t be afraid; it’s
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only water coming out of the cannon,” he called as they charged. Although
many fell, others braved the murderous artillery to meet the Port-au-