Geggus - 2‘5 6mm will" éetgjus J Ms A mutant mm TL....

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Unformatted text preview: ; 2‘5; 6mm will" éetgjus' J Ms A mutant mm . TL .» f, ———— a... ...... -_ ........ _. . \,‘~ A but]: cm ' “oil-411a l’k v: a l 2""? [0/97 )6” 1 l a: Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean, 1789—1815 DAVID PATRICK CECCUS Just when the system of plantation slavery in the Caribbean was reach~ ing its apogee at the end of the eighteenth century, it faced an unprec— edented series of challenges. The emergence of the antislavery move~ ment in Europe in the 17803 and the outbreak of the great universalist revolution in France were soon followed by a long period of war and a wave of internal insurrections among the region’s racially oppressed groups and occasionally among its white colonists. This combination of forces created enormous disruption in the Caribbean, and in the case of Saint Domingue (modern Haiti) destroyed its wealthiest colony, bring- ing slave emancipation and independent statehood to the region for the first time. After 300 years of unchecked growth, colonialism and slavery, the defining institutions of the Caribbean, were annihilated precisely where they had most prospered. However, long after Haitian independence in 1804 and the with— drawal from slave trading during the same decade by most of the region’s carriers,1 slavery and colonialism remained entrenched in the Caribbean. It is true that Haitian aid and French revolutionary inspira- ‘ tion contributed to the secession of the Spanish colonies of the region’s southern rimland after 1811 and their eventual abolition of slavery. Yet throughout this period the plantation economy worked by slave labor continued to expand toward new frontiers, in Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the mountains of Jamaica, in Trinidad, the Guianas, and Louisiana. Longer-settled areas also showed unexpected signs of vigor. Most of this development, moreover, took place within the context of colonial empires. If expansion of the United States to the Gulf Coast (between 2 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS 1803 and 1819) diminished the area under European control, it also further stimulated the growth of plantation slavery in the region. The Haitian Revolution thus remained something of a turning point before its time. Reform, revolution, war, insurrection, and economic development all interacted but followed different chronologies, thus denying these years of turbulent upheaval any neat unity. If the rise of Napoleon Bonaparte brought both the French and Haitian revolutions to a close in 1804, their influence lived on in the Caribbean, and the insurrectionary movement continued unabated past the end of the European war in 1815. Antislavery did not climax until after 1830. For want of better- defined limits, this chapter will concentrate primarily on the period 1789—1815 and the interlocking struggles to destroy, defend, and extend plantation slavery during a period of widespread military conflict. From the beginning of European rule in the Caribbean, war and slave rebellion were prominent motifs in the region’s history. However, the decades flanking the turn of the nineteenth century, themselves flanked by the mainland revolutions to the north (1776—1783) and south (1811—1824), were quite exceptional. Most colonies suffered either for- eign invasion or internal revolt when, from 1793 to 1802, and with lesser intensity to 1815, war between the European powers sent tens of thou- sands of soldiers into the region, displaced thousands of refugees, and disrupted local shipping on a massive scale. Yet what distinguished this war and made it by far the bloodiest, was that racial inequality and slavery, the twin pillars of white rule in the Caribbean, and eventually European rule itself, were themselves being challenged in an unprec- edented manner both within the region and from outside.2 After centuries of indifference in the capitals of the imperial powers, slavery came to be seen increasingly as an evil in the eighteenth century, and in the 17805 sectors of European and North American opinion began to mobilize against it.3 In Pennsylvania and Massachusetts, which had strong maritime links with the Caribbean, slavery was abolished. In England a multiclass abolitionist movement was launched in 1787 that within five years forced a bill abolishing the slave trade through the House of Commons. Encouraged by developments in England, the elite Amis des Noirs society was founded in Paris in February 1788.4 At the same time colonial governments began to intervene between slaves and their owners to implement limited protective reforms. Over virulent protests from planters, new slave laws were passed for the French islands in the mid-17805, then for some British colonies, and in 1789 for the entire Spanish empire. The attempts at reform, like the abolitionist movements, were initially failures.5 They are important, however, for it? t}. 5 i 23 g: E. it i. is $ t i ‘1: i; 1‘ it '31 l E; i s. a Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 3 the way they influenced slave resistance in the Americas during the next forty years, creating what Michael Craton has called a "rumour syn— drome” centered on imaginary emancipation decrees.6 Before 1790, as Julius Scott rightly emphasizes, the American Revolution, British aboli- tionism, and Spanish reformism (and, I would add, French reformism and abolitionism) helped form in slave communities a “culture of expectation [that] anticipated and helped to fuel the outbreak of revolu- tion in the heart of Afro-America.”7 Antislavery was also important because of its impact on the French Revolution. Though the two movements sprang partially from similar social and intellectual currents, they do need to be distinguished. The one antedated and long outlived the other, and their supporters were far from always the same people. Whatever the implications of the Decla— ration of the Rights of Man of August 1789, revolutionary egalitarian- ism in the 17903 by no means necessarily implied racial equality or slave emancipation. Democrats both in France and its colonies were slow to take up these issues, which of course had a relevance to American blacks quite beyond that of any other aspect of the revolution.8 In few other societies can the ideals of liberty, equality, and fraternity have seemed so dangerous as in these plantation systems founded on bondage, inequality, and prejudice. The threat from France, however became much more direct once antislavery became part of the revolu: tionary mainstream. Legislating for the French colonies in the decrees of April 4, 1792, and February 4, 1794, radicals in Paris first brought racial equality and slave emancipation to the heartland of slaveownin America.9 Thereafter, in the middle and late 17905, the French Republifi made real its latent threat to slaveowners in general by pursuing a policy, "unjustifiable and barbarous” according to the British war min- ister, of offering liberation to the nonwhites of enemy colonies.10 The revolution’s impact in the realm of ideas was no doubt real, but it is exceedingly difficult to demonstrate, especially among Caribbean slaves. Its material impact, however, including the disruption of the power structure in the French (and some of the Dutch) colonies and the brmgmg of war to the whole region, cannot be in question. Affecting all classes of society, the French Revolution did not merely inflame latent aspirations but, more important, undermined the institutions that had held them in check. The French Revolution’s adoption of antislavery and antiracism was primarily a pragmatic response to events in the West Indies. Yves Benot and Robin Blackburn have reemphasized the importance of metropolitan idealist and political influences on the revolution’s colo- nial policy in sophisticated analyses that balance domestic and overseas 4 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS narratives.“ But few would disagree that the evolution of that policy was in large measure shaped by developments in Saint Domingue, particularly by the massive slave revolt of 1791. The revolution in Saint Domingue itself evolved out of complex interaction with events in France, but far more than metropolitan pressure groups or Enlighten— ment ideology, it was responsible for forcing the politicians in Paris belatedly to live up to their ideals when confronting the "colonial question.” In so doing, it posed a powerful and different threat to New World slavery, presenting close to home a destructive spectacle of self— liberation, first by the colony’s free colored community (1790—1792), then by its slaves (1791—1793). Their defeat of French, British, and Spanish armies and their achievement of national independence in 1804 were inflammatory examples and object lessons to those in bondage and, according to some historians, the source of actual attempts to export the black revolution to other American societies. In a seminal study of slave resistance in the Americas, Eugene Genovese gives striking centrality to the French Revolution andits impact on Saint Domingue, seeing a transformation from “restora— tionist” rebellion to “bourgeois-democratic” revolution beginning in Haiti.12 Many historians of Haiti, on the other hand, seek to downplay the impact of revolutionary France and stress instead continuity of resistance and indigenous factors such as voodoo and marronage in the genesis of the Haitian Revolution.13 For the British Caribbean, Michael Craton and Michael Mullin also adopt a mainly internal perspective, emphasizing the impact on resistance of creolization, though this view is rejected by Seymour Drescher, who sees phases of rebellion shaped first by the French Revolutionary War and then by abolitionism.M Christianity is another factor whose influence on resistance is disputed but whose importance certainly grew in this period, when Protestant planters belatedly accepted evangelization as a means of social control. In addition, the tremendous increase in slave imports during the late eighteenth century and the rapid growth throughout the Caribbean of the free colored population perhaps suggest that the 17905 might have brought increased conflict to the region, whatever happened in Europe. The relationship between the antislavery movement, the French Revolution, and the forces of black self-liberation is difficult to disen- tangle, and historians vary in the importance they attach to each of these challenges to the Caribbean status quo. Primarily the product of social and intellectual change in Europe, early antislavery, some argue, also owed a good deal to black resistance in the Caribbean.15 During the period covered by this chapter (1789-1815), antislavery had a signifi- cant impact on black resistance and on the French Revolution but can be Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean I 5 seen as subordinate to them, since together they greatly boosted the antislavery movement in France, giving it a forum and compelling arguments, while most scholars agree they set abolitionism back by more than a decade in Britain.16 However, beginning with the bannin of the British slave trade in 1807, abolitionism proved to be the mosgt powerful of the three forces in changing the shape of Caribbean society. In the period 1789—1815 we find two sets of conflicts in the Greater Caribbean. One was the international rivalry between the British French, and Spanish. The other consisted of mainly domestic struggles waged by the region’s three main social groups—slaves seeking free- dom, free coloreds fighting racial discrimination, and colonial elites seeking autonomy or independence. They were not discrete develop- ments; one often impinged on another. Slave rebellion encouraged white secessionism and foreign intervention in Saint Domingue but dampened desires for independence among criollos in Cuba and west- ern Venezuela. Fear of slave emancipation was probably the biggest obstacle to ending discrimination against free coloreds, although free colored—white conflict, imperial rivalry, and white independence move- ments all opened up opportunities for slaves. Many of these issues came together in the Grenada and Saint Vincent rebellions of 1795 and the South American revolutions, but only the Haitian Revolution embodied them all. Black resistance to slavery took a variety of forms in this eriod Generally, the most massive or protracted conflicts, the ones the}; most severely challenged colonial rule, were those in which emancipated slaves resisted attempts to reenslave them (Saint Domingue 1793—1798 1802—1803; Saint Lucia, 1795—1797; Guadeloupe, 1802; Prospect Bluff, Florida, 1815—1816), or where free coloreds or Black Caribs made com: mon cause with slaves in a joint war of liberation (Grenada and Saint Vincent, 1795—1796). These were usually epic contests, featuring pitched battles, staggering death tolls, and episodes of striking heroism. Also unnerving for colonial regimes were the war against the Boni maroons in Surinam (1789—1793) and the Jamaican Maroon War of 1795—1796 though there slavery was less directly at issue.‘7 It is significant that none of these contests strictly speaking was a slave revolt. Each profited greatly from organization experience and wea ' i , , onr available 0 l outsrde the state of slavery. p y n y The table “Slave Rebellions and Conspiracies, 1789—1815” at the end of this chapter is an attempt to identify what may be most properl termed slave revolts and conspiracies, those which proportionately involved slaves more than other groups, whose principal target was th: 6 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS slave regime, and which were organized within slavery rather than outside it. It is still not a well-defined category and far from homoge- neous, with events in Saint Domingue dwarfing all the others put together in magnitude, consequences, and duration. No restrictive criteria regarding size were applied, as information on this was often lacking. A few of the cases perhaps do not meet the standard of ten participants used in Herbert Aptheker’s pioneering study of slave rebellions in the United States.18 On the other hand, small numbers of slaves executed, punished, or even arrested indicate planter parsimony and prudence as often as the true dimensions of a conspiracy or revolt. Further problems of definition are posed by certain borderline cases. The 1802 Dominica mutiny of soldiers in the Second West India Regi- ment might have been included, since the legal status of black troops in the British Army was then still unsettled, and fear of being sold moti- vated the mutineers.” Another group of uncertain status, persons who successfully asserted their claim to freedom at this time, were the 1,000 Cobreros of eastern Cuba, though theirs was largely a nonviolent rebellion.20 The hundreds of fugitive slaves armed by the British in the War of 1812 who raided frontier plantations and later held a fort in the Florida panhandle against a US. Army force similarly do not fit usual categories; nor do the thousands of bondsmen who joined both sides in the Spanish American War of Independence.” The "Swiss" slaves who joined the free coloreds of west Saint Domingue in their early struggles were omitted from the table because they and their interests remained subordinated to the free coloreds, though they evidently hoped to gain their own liberty.22 The long resistance of the Dominica maroon bands in 1809—1814 and the “rebellious runaways” of northern Jamaica in 1798, whose activities fell halfway between insurrection and marronage, provide other cases. So, too, do the one or two hundred slaves who apparently joined the Trelawny Maroons in the war of 1795.23 What constituted a conspiracy also can be problematic. Some histo— rians question the existence of several of the plots listed in the table and attribute them to the imagination of nervous colonists or to slaves’ discussing fantasies of retribution.24 The Jamaica 1791 conspiracy and the Puerto Rico conspiracy of 1812 may fall in this category, as might the 1795 Trinidad plots mentioned by V. S. Naipaul.25 Evidence for some of the revolts is also scanty.” I have omitted several cases mentioned in recent historiography that I judged to be spurious." On the other hand, it is possible I have overlooked conspiracies or small rebellions that contemporaries sought to cover up. With these limitations in mind, we may suggest that slave revolts and conspiracies in the Greater Caribbean averaged at least two per Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 7 year during the period 1789—1815 and nearly four per year in the 1790s With revolts more numerous than conspiracies that did not reach frui— tion. About a dozen of the rebellions involved one hundred or more slaves. Outside of Saint Domingue, the only insurrections to mobilize 1,000 slaVes occurred in Guadeloupe (August 1793) and in tiny Curacao (1795 and 1800), though thousands of slaves joined in the multiclass rismgs in the British Windward Islands in 1795. Initially slave resistance was most prominent in France’s colonies. Then, in the mid—17905 the Spanish Caribbean saw an upsurge of activity. Another spate occurred in 1811—1812, though in general overt resistance diminished consider— ably after 1800. This pattern clearly had much to do with the impact of the French Revolution, though some historians have exaggerated its importance. Certainly, two other causal factors need to be taken into account: the variations in military strength experienced by different colonies and the influence of European antislavery and reformism In the British Caribbean the years 1789—1815 paradoxically consti- tute something of a low point in the histor ' y of autonomous black reSistance. Although the mid-17905 revolts of the Black Caribs Wind- ward Islands free coloreds, and Jamaican Maroons held center Sta 9 and although a number of plots were discovered in Jamaica after 1830, independent slave rebellions and conspiracies were more prominent in the preceding and succeeding decades.28 Slave participation in the multiclass conflicts provides only a partial explanation of this apparent downturn. Contemporaries pointed to the high degree of creolization and therefore stability, of the older colonies as an inhibiting factor buf the. great “creole” rebellions of 1816—1831 undermine the theory’s 'lau- Sibility.29 Michael Craton has suggested instead that tensions betaeen demographically balanced African and creole communities in this e- riod made cooperation in revolt difficult.30 However, the best genepral explanation might be found in the exceptionally high concentrations of troops maintained in the British colonies through the years 1789—1815 A quite impressive and fairly detailed correlation can be found between diminishing garrison strength and slave rebellion in this period and others, and not just in the British West Indies.31 The striking upsur e of reSistance that occurred in 1795, and the resistance of 1811—1812 as iell seem partly linked to falling troop levels in the Spanish colonies and the region in general. Unsurprising but neglected, this very concrete as ect of soCial control helps explain both the spatial and chronological digtri- bution of organized slave resistance. .Antislavery and reformism appear as significant influences on black resrstance at this time because of a remarkable series of revolts and conspiracies that featured false rumors of an emancipation law. More 8 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS than twenty occurred in the years 1789—1832, most of them in the Greater Caribbean.32 Coeval with the heyday of the abolitionist move- ment in Europe and chiefly associated with creole slaves, the phenom- enon emerged well before the French abolition of slavery or the Saint Domingue uprising, even before the Declaration of the Rights of Man. A few comparable examples occurred earlier in the century,33 but the series in question began with an attempted rebellion on Martinique in August 1789. Slaves claimed that the government in Europe had abol— ished slavery but that local slaveowners were preventing the island governor from implementing the new law. The pattern would be re— peated again and again across the region for the next forty years and would culminate in the three large-scale insurrections in Barbados, 1816, Demerara, 1823, and Jamaica, 1831.34 Together with the Saint Domingue insurrection of 1791, these were the biggest slave rebellions in the history of the Americas. Rumors of an official liberation that was being covertly sabotaged, present in at least one-third of the slave inSurrections and conspiracies between 1789 and 1815, were clearly a strong mobilizing force. Corro- sive of whatever hegemonic values a slaveowning class managed to impose, they both suggested new political strategies to slave dissidents and exacerbated the sense of injustice that Barrington Moore isolated as a crucial component of rebellion.35 Sometimes the rumors circulated without stimulating revolt, as in Saint Domingue at the end of 1789 or in France’s Indian Ocean colony of Bourbon, where the rumors arrived a year later.“ Early in 1790, however, minor rebellions broke out in Tortola, Venezuela, and Cuba, apparently caused by the anger and confidence generated by talk of an obstructed decree. That April the governor of Guadeloupe similarly interpreted an aborted local revolt.” There followed at the start of 1791 two rebellions in Dominica, conspira— cies in southern Saint Domingue and Guadeloupe, then the great upris- ing in northern Saint Domingue in August, followed by a shadowy conspiracy in Jamaica, all of which featured false rumors of emancipa- tion. Similar rumors resurfaced two years later in the major insurrection around Saint Anne, Guadeloupe, and then in mid-1795 in the spate of slave resistance affecting the Spanish empire at Pointe Coupée (Louisi- ana), Coro (Venezuela), Puerto Principe (Cuba), and distant La Plata.38 The extensive revolt on Curacao that summer provides another case, according to some accounts. In 1811—1812 the Spanish colonies again were affected, this time Cuba, Puerto Rico, and Santo Domingo, as was once more Martinique. Thereafter, the “rumor syndrome” was limited mainly to the Anglophone world, as was abolitionism. By 1789 angry colonists and alarmed officials were complaining that Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 9 antislavery literature and artifacts were circulating in both the French and the British West Indies and were attracting the excited attention of slaves.” Incautious table talk by colonists, dockside conversations with newly arrived seamen, and overly optimistic letters from slaves in Europe Were further sources of information and misinformation re- garding antislavery. Caribbean blacks henceforward were aware that cracks were appearing in what formerly had seemed the monolithic structure of white rule, divisions that perhaps might be exploited. In some cases, shrewd leaders apparently manufactured rumors of eman— cipation to mobilize resistance. However they started, the rumors seem to have been widely believed. This is partly why a number of rebellions in this period began peacefully as strikes or demonstrations; slaves hoped they might negotiate their way to freedom.“ Sometimes the supposedly beneficent intentions of the distant metropolitan power were projected onto its local representative, the colonial governor. In Puerto Principe, Cuba, in 1811, slaves feared local planters had poi— soned the local governor in order to block the emancipation decree. In 1791 Guadeloupe slaves, contrarily, supposed the governor was keep- ing quiet about the new law until he could sell his own slaves.“ ' Enslaved men and women were willing to believe talk of an aboli- tion law not only because it fulfilled their deepest aspirations but also because numerous contemporary developments combined to give it an air of plausibility. Both before and after 1789, governmental efforts to reform slavery or the slave trade, along with slaveowners’ hostile reactions to such measures, signaled to slaves that they had potential allies. Discussions of improving the status of free coloreds were also liable to misinterpretation. The British, French, and Spanish govern- ments had in the past all granted de facto freedom to certain indomi- table maroon communities, and the long-standing Spanish sanctuary law (freeing foreign runaways) became an object of critical international attention in 1789—1790 prior to its withdrawal in May 1790.42 The American Revolution had already begun the process of outlawing slavery, and Lord Dunmore’s recruiting of fugitive slaves as soldiers (some of whom were resettled in the Caribbean) set an important example: fighting for a king against rebellious colonists was a path to freedom.43 This was the role the Saint Domingue rebels claimed for themselves in 1791. These twenty or so rumor-inspired conspiracies and rebellions dis- play a good deal of variation. In some cases, the sources present belief in an obstructed decree as a prime motive force; for others, it appears as a peripheral aspect competing with several other ostensibly causal fac- tors. Taken together, however, they constitute a type of slave revolt 10 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS closely associated with the period 1789—1832 and, I would argue, with European antislavery more than with French libertarianism. If the two factors are difficult to separate in some of the early cases, this is not true later. Moreover, there is a fundamental difference between asserting a universal right to individual liberty and claiming a freedom bestowed by royal writ. The supposed agent of liberation was usually a king, and where the rebels’ discourse is represented in the sources it is more often of a traditionalist than a "bourgeois-democratic” nature—not least among the slave insurgents of Saint Domingue.44 When distant echoes of the Cortes of Cadiz reached Cuban plantations in 1811—1812, word went round that "the king had granted freedom, ” even though the king of Spain had been deposed three years earlier.‘15 In the Port Salut plot and first Dominica rebellion, both of January 1 791, the rumor was not of full emancipation but of the granting of three free days per week. Such a rumor was echoed later that year in northern and western Saint Domingue and around Basse Terre, Guadeloupe, in April 1793.46 This variant rumor first appeared in Martinique in the fall of 1789; it may derive from a French abolitionist tract of that year, and was usually communicated to slaves by free colored activists}? Like other “news” of interest to slaves, it was no doubt carried from island to island, as Julius Scott suggests, through networks of seamen and mi- grant free coloreds.48 In the three Spanish West Indian cases of 1811— 1812 the rumors of emancipation derived from a real proposal made by a Mexican deputy to the Cortes of Cadiz.49 In early 1790, on the other hand, the reforming C6digo Negro Espafiol of May 1789 was mistaken for an abolitionist measure. This was partly because colonial adminis- trations sought to keep the decree secret while trying to get Madrid to withdraw or modify it.” Urban slaves were often well informed of the Codigo’s real nature, and in Caracas some protested against the cover- up; but in the countryside wishful thinking appears to have distorted the news. In Martinique, news of antislavery activity and ministerial efforts at reform both played a part in producing the Saint Pierre rising of August 1789. Reports of the initial phase of the French Revolution must also have encouraged slaves’ expectations of radical change; but contrary to what some historians have written, the popular revolution of July was then unknown in the colony, where the Old Regime was yet to be challenged.51 The talk of emancipation surrounding the Guadeloupe conspiracy of May 1791 doubtless owed more to the activity of the National Assembly in Paris—ironically, since the legislators voted that month never to tamper with slavery—but contemporaries still blamed the abolitionists and royalists for the rumors.52 Scholars often link the inspirational doctrine of liberty and e l' ' ‘ . ' qua ity, which belated] came to include antirac1sm (1792) and then antislavery (1794). At the szme time 12 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS radical supporters sought to spread slave rebellion to British, Spanish, and Dutch possessions.56 Exactly how slaves perceived libertarian ide- ology is a difficult issue. Like antislavery rumors, though less directly, it doubtless reinforced existing aspirations for freedom, "boosting their legitimacy,” as Michel Martin and Alain Yacou put it,” and exacerbating a sense of relative deprivation. But this alone was not enough. The risk of almost certain death that came with violent resistance required a material improvement in the chances of success. Moreover, when slaves did revolt, they did not often employ the language of the French revolutionaries. Rather unusual were the insurgents on Curacao, who in August 1795 sang French revolutionary songs, and those at Coro and Maracaibo, who demanded "la ley de los franceses,” a republic, and the abolition of slavery, the sales tax, and the aristocracy.58 When "the first decrees of the Nation” (the Declaration of the Rights of Man, the abolition of serfdom, etc.) reached Martinique in the fall of 1789, the emancipation rumors that already had provoked the Saint Pierre rising were intensified, but no revolt resulted from the'ensuing agitation?"3 In Guadeloupe, slaves apparently did rise the following spring, taking advantage of the governor’s departure for Martinique with a large military expedition. The rebel leaders supposedly claimed they were authorized to overthrow slavery since the whites had over- thrown the king. As late as August 1793, however, after several more plots, a bloody revolt, and a year of civil war and with Iacobins in power locally and in France, Guadeloupean rebels still hesitated, during the major insurrection in Sainte Anne parish, to claim freedom as a right.60 In Saint Domingue, slaves saw the tricolor cockade as the sign of "the emancipation of the whites.” "The white slaves in France,” they were reported as saying, “had killed their masters and, now free, were governing themselves and taking over the land.”61 Nevertheless, when they rebelled in 1791, seeking their own emancipation, they adopted a counterrevolutionary stance difficult to reconcile with the ideals of 1789. These did not impinge on the slave revolution in a significant manner until the French Republic abolished slavery and the free black leader Toussaint Louverture rallied the slave insurgents to its cause."2 This was the turning point of the Haitian Revolution, and it transformed the war in the Caribbean. Henceforth the forces of black Self-liberation were combined with the resources of a modern state under the banner of antislavery. The transformation came about not through the French exaltation of individual liberty but because of France’s adoption of an abolitionist policy and offer of political support. It is significant that Toussaint Louverture was not a slave but a V member of the lower ranks of the free colored sector.“ 50, too, were the Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 13 chief conspirators at Coro and Maracaibo, and apparently also the domestic servants who organized the April 1790 conspiracy in Guade- loupe.“ Free colored leadership is found in about a dozen of the slave revolts and conspiracies of this period, notably those where the impact of libertarian ideology was most in evidence.65 Across the Americas it seems that free coloreds were more likely than slaves to respond to the message of the French Revolution.66 Indeed, a sort of continuum existed, with creole slaves predominating in plots and rebellions exhib- iting some degree of outside influence, while those of largely local inspi- ration were more likely to be dominated by Africans."7 French revolutionary influence usually coincided with the expecta- tion of intervention by French colonial forces. Saint Domingue priva~ teers played a prominent role in the Maracaibo conspiracy of May 1799, and according to Federico Brito Figueroa, they were implicated in the ' q Coro rising four years earlier.68 Another likely case is the great insurrec— tion that spread across western Curacao in 1795; its field slave leader claimed to be in touch with the mulatto general Andre’ Rigaud in Les Cayes, Saint Domingue, and he also took his name.69 It is additionally probable that, in Spanish Louisiana, the Pointe Coupée conspirators of 1795 were encouraged by France’s attempts, organized by ambassador Genet, to invade and force retrocession of its former colony.70 French military intervention, however, materialized only in the multiclass nsmgs in the British Windward Islands (1795) and Curacao (1800).71 Notwithstanding the important roles French and Dutch Jacobins played, the Curacao invasion and the Maracaibo conspiracy were by— products as much of the Haitian as of the French Revolution. The French government and local French naval officers in fact opposed both actions because the Dutch and Spanish were then France’s allies. Saint Domingue mulattoes were in large measure behind both events, and most of the troops that invaded Curacao were black (albeit from Guade— loupe). In Maracaibo, the French Iacobin seamen spoke of decapitating ‘ the king, while their nonwhite comrades recommended guillotining “the large landowners and poor whites.”72 g Though independent Haiti was not yet in existence, one might , identify'a "Haitian" influence on the Caribbean from 1791 onward the year'of the devastating slave insurrection in northern Saint Domingue and of the more immediately successful revolt of the free colored ‘ communities of its west and south provinces. Nothing remotely compa- ' rable in magnitude or outcome had happened before in an American slave society. The French Revolution proclaimed the ideals of liberty and equality, but the Haitian Revolution showed African Americans that these ideals could be won by force of arms. Successive victories 14 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS over armies of the chief colonial powers dramatized the message. In 1796 an ex-slave became deputy governor of the region’s wealthiest colony. By 1804 a black state existed in the heart of the Caribbean. As John Bauer concluded, the psychological impact on American slaves of this war of liberation will never be fully fathomed, but it was apparently widespread.” From Charleston to Bahia slaveowners complained of a new ”insolence" shown by slaves, which they often attributed to aware- ness of a successful black revolution." Some doubts remain about how much news penetrated rural regions.75 Yet the basic facts of the Haitian Revolution seem to have been rapidly disseminated along regional trade routes. Sailors, refugees, and proselytizing privateers spread tales of apocalyptic destruction and a new world in the making, and planters everywhere voiced fears of “ another Saint Domingue.” From Jamaica to Trinidad, slaves celebrated in song the triumph of the Haitian insur- 7" In 1800, the year Toussaint Louverture became governor of Saint gents. "Black, white, brown. Domingue, slaves sang in the streets of Kingston, All de same/’77 . That this represented a‘ profound change of consciousness is far from certain, and one needs to beware of overrating the. Haitian ex— ample as a factor stimulating other revolts. Even so, several cases are known where conspirators made reference to the Saint Domingue rising or sought to learn from it, and there were presumably more?8 Saint Domingue's influence on Curacao’s rebels has already been mentioned, and it is doubtless significant that José Chirino, leader of the Coro insurrection, had Visited the French colony. Individuals with French names frequently showed up among conspirators and rebels in Spanish or British colonies. Not all played prominent roles or were necessarily from Saint Domingue.79 However, three definitely were: Charles Deslondes, the driving force behind the Louisiana (1811) slave uprising, the largest in North America; Auguste Bonhomme, who organized the Marie Galante conspiracy (1791); and a "brown priest” involved in the Igbo conspiracy on Jamaica (1815). The free mulatto Edmond Thétis, a leader of the Martinique rebellion of 1811, had served several years in the army of Henry Christophe, who that year was crowned king of Haiti. The elaborate coronation of the former slave and his founding of 7 a Haitian aristocracy must have caught the imagination of many black people across the Caribbean. In Puerto Rico, where one planter called it "a consummate evil for the West Indies,” the news became confused with the emancipation rumor then circulating, so that in one district Christophe was perceived as the liberating monarch.so . The Haitian Revolution’s most obvious impact was on the extensive A nonte conspiracy that was based'in Havana but apparently was linked Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 15 to plots in many other parts of Cuba. Jose Antonio Aponte, a free black carpenter and Shango priest, owned portraits of Christophe, Toussaint Louverture, and the Haitian emperor Dessalines (as well as George Washington). Besides spreading rumors of an emancipation decree he and his group of. free black organizers looked back to the saint Domingue uprising for inspiration and led their followers to believe that help would come from Haiti. One organizer seems to have pre- tended'to be Jean Francois, the mainvleader of the 1791 insurrection who had long been an object of black pride in Havana. The conspirators certame sought information from Gil Narciso, an ex—subaltern of Jean Francois who was then visiting Havana, and they may have drawn him into the plot.“ Haitian citizens traveling in the Caribbean no doubt tended to be outspoken critics of slavery and racism. So were their governments. The politics of survival, however, probably prevented Haitian statesmen from seeking to spread slave rebellion elsewhere. Endless rumors circu- lated regarding the activity of Haitian “agents,” and these are given Credence by some scholars.82 In his postindependence proclamations Dessalines declared his solidarity with the still-enslaved blacks of the remaining French colonies, and his attempt in 1805 to annex Santo perningo strengthened fears of Haitian aggrandizement and subver- sion. Yet his supposed involvement in the 1805 Trinidad conspiracy seems-quite spurious. Early Haitian rulers could not afford to provoke a maritime blockade by the slaveholding powers that would cut off their source of arms. To maintain good relations with Britain, Toussaint Louverture in 1799 betrayed an attempt by French agents to raise Jamaican slaves—an ironic clash between the French and Haitian revo- lutions—and Christophe similarly denounced a supposed plot by his enemy Alexandre PétiOn, the president of the south Haitian Republic 33 . As. noted, south coast mulattoes were implicated in several con- spirac’ies' or revolts during the 17903, and Pétion himself, with 200 of Andre Rigaud’s officers, had participated in the invasion of Curacao in 1800.":1 Haitians living on Curacao were implicated in the Martinique rebellion of 1811, though it is not clear they had any state support The rebellion in Santo Domingo the fo‘llOwing year was, according to some scholars, aimed at facilitating intervention by Pétion, and a ain in— volved the shadowy figure of Gil Narciso.85 All in all, those vibe did most to export liberty from Haiti were not the ex-slave rulers who dominated the north (and who continued to purchase African workers through the slave trade) but the free-born and light—skinned anciens libres of the south, who had no inhibiting links with the British Paul Verna shows that Dessalines had nothing to do with the Miranda 16 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS expedition that sailed from Haiti in 1806 to end Spanish rule in Venezu— ela. Pétion, however, in return for vital munitions, ships, and men, persuaded Simon Bolivar a decade later to initiate slave emancipation in northern South America.86 This contribution to decolonization and liberation on the mainland may have been the Haitian Revolution’s most enduring influence on the Greater Caribbean.” Free coloreds thus played a prominent role in slave resistance in this period and proved particularly receptive to the messages of the French and Haitian revolutions. Especially striking was the alliance of free coloreds, slaves, and Black Caribs in the Windward Islands; it almost drove the British from Grenada and Saint Vincent in 1795. With assis- tance from Guadeloupe and Saint Lucia, the perseCuted Francophone population of these former French islands combined across class and ethnic lines under the banner of the Republic and were defeated only after a year.88 Though their numbers increased rapidly in these years and they proved excellent soldiers, free coloreds were outnumbered by whites in most colonies. Alliance with slaves thus made tactical sense for those determined to change the status quo. This was particularly true for those free coloreds who, regarding themselves as the only indigenous inhabitants of the islands, were developing aspirations toward independence.” Espousal of abolitionism, however, threatened free colored slaveowners and greatly complicated the free coloreds’ basic demand for racial equality. Emancipation might diminish the stigma attached to their origins, but more surely it weakened their status as free persons in a world of slaves and exposed them to new rivals. As a group, therefore, free coloreds were not abolitionists, and even the most radical proved ambivalent in their attitudes to slavery and ex-slaves. The conspiracy organized around Bayamo, Cuba, in August 1795 by the mulatto smallholder Nicolas Morales has sometimes been regarded as antislavery, since its aims included distributing land to the poor. Yet Morales made no mention of slavery and had no contact with slaves or maroons, only with free coloreds and disgruntled whites. Moreover, though the local presence of French refugees encouraged speculation among Cubans that the island had been sold to France, Morales seems to have been motivated less by the example of Saint Domingue’s free coloreds, who had achieved equality more than three years earlier, than by the gracias al sacar law of the preceding February. Wrongly believing ‘anted full equality and was being concealed by the local governor, ‘s planned an armed demonstration to force its implementa- \ ‘ again, the reform and rumor syndrome. The sales tax was as in other Spanish colonial rebellions that year.90 The Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 17 minor revolt on Martinique in 1800 led by Colonel Jean Kina, an ex-slave from Saint Domingue, has sometimes been called a slave revolt, and its leader did voice concern about the mistreatment of slaves. The revolt almost solely involved freemen, however, and was an attempt to re- verse recent legislation against them."1 In Saint Domingue Kina had been a staunch defender of the slave regime, fighting for the white planters against slave and free colored insurgents. His rebellion was thus a product of the Haitian Revolution, but an indirect one. The Declaration of the Rights of Man had an immediate impact on French free coloreds, encouraging them to organize politically in Paris, where they evoked an embarrassed evasiveness, and in the colonies, where they faced lynch mobs. Only in Saint Domingue, where they were most numerous, did they rise in revolt. Initially they aligned themselves with royalist forces, traditionally a limiting influence on popular racism, but after the fall of the monarchy and the winning of political equality in 1792 they changed sides to become a mainstay of republican rule in the colonies.92 A similar development occurred dur- ing the revolution in Venezuela between 1811 and 1815.93 In each case, the need for free colored military assistance (against rebel slaves or Spanish royalists) forced the dismantling of racial discrimination in the face of ingrained fear and prejudice. In the French colonies the reforms did not survive the revolution. Elsewhere free coloreds had to pursue less dramatic strategies aimed at achieving modest improvements in their civil status. In 1792 a petition of Jamaican freemen for small changes in discriminatory laws created alarm among white colonists, and four years later produced some limited results. A more widespread free colored activism ap— peared in the British islands in the period 1810—1815, foreshadowing the mobilization that would bring racial equality after 1830.94 Two factors that generally favored the free coloreds were a rapidly growing popula- tion (whereas white communities were usually shrinking) and the importance in this time of war and slave rebellion of nonwhite militias. In the Spanish colonies especially, militia service provided an avenue of social advancement, and reliance on free colored defenders inhibited governmental desires to discriminate. Since it provided military train— ing, influential whites in Cuba sought to abolish the black militia in the 17905, but the government retained it, fearing white separatism as well as slave revolts and foreign invasion. In 1812 the black battalion of the Havana militia felt able to petition for equal treatment with white soldiers, though it met only with a worried silence from the administra- tion.95 In all colonies, free colored militias helped in the suppression of 18 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS slave rebellions, and in the Spanish colonies several conspiracies were betrayed by members of the mulatto militia. Although the importance of internal divisions within the free colored sector is not well under- stood, it appears that the freemen most closely allied with slave rebels tended to be those closest to them in wealth, culture, and appearance—— black freedmen with little or no stake in slaveholding, such as Aponte, Chirino, and Toussaint Louverture (or Denmark Vesey in the United States).96 In Saint Domingue, some communities of free coloreds became caught up in the 1791 revolt, and opportunistic alliances were made and unmade. However, until slavery was abolished in the French colonies, the main free colored leaders did not support general emancipation, even if some displayed sympathy for the slaves’ plight. Following emancipation, the two groups jockeyed sometimes violently for power. In Saint Domingue and Guadeloupe many collaborated in the Napo- leonic reconquest of their islands in 1802, until it became apparent that only independence could guarantee the preservation of both equality and liberty. In Guadeloupe the freemen Delgrés and Ignace fought a heroically hopeless campaign to the death, while in Saint Domingue Pétion and Dessalines combined in a fragile alliance to finally oust the French. . It was probably a free colored who suggested “Haiti” as the name of their new state.97 The choice of an Amerindian word to celebrate the rupture with Europe and the massacre of surviving white colonists underscored the point that Haitian independence carried a more radical message than did that of the United States two decades earlier. Haiti was a symbol of black achievement in a world dominated by Europe- ans, where slavery and racism were gaining strength. For pro- and antislavery forces it became a crucial test case regarding ideas about race, slavery, and the future of the Caribbean, a debate to which Haitian publicists and statesmen contributed.98 Envisaging a very different type of independence, some French writers had predicted the secession of Saint Domingue even before the revolution, pointing to its economic strength and the autonomist'ten- dencies of its white planters. The French Revolution promptly gave white colonists extensive political (though not economic) concessions, but its growing radicalism and perceived threat to slavery increased the planters’ separatist aspirations and channeled them toward Great Brit— ain. After several attempts at secession, autonomist and counterrevolu- tionary groups colluded in inviting British forces into the main French colonies once war broke out in Europe (1792—1794).99 British rule, how— ever, did not bring self-government, and no more planter legislatures were created in the West Indies. The British planter classes, weakened Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 19 by absenteeism and already possessing considerable political au— tonomy, proved relatively quiescent through this period. Though em— bittered by the progress of the antislavery movement, their dependence on imperial protection, both commercial and naval, severely limited their room for maneuver. Moreover, the class conflict that racked the French colonies’ white communities produced only a few weak echoes in those of the British, who generally affected a bluff disdain for the doings of the “French maniacs.”100 As France had a much larger popula- tion than either England or Spain but far fewer colonial outlets, young and indigent white males were exceptionally numerous in its West Indian possessions.101 These petits blancs challenged planters and ad- ministrators and fueled fierce racial conflict, until later, as Jacobins, they rallied to the egalitarian republic. This radical trend was both expressed and facilitated by military mutinies of varying importance in most of the French islands.“02 Spain’s Caribbean colonies proved socially more stable, but its absolutist rule was particularly vulnerable to the doctrines of revolu- tionary France, at least in its mainland colonies, where whites were less inhibited than in the islands by fear of slave revolts and naval block- ade.103 Hostile even to moderate liberalism, the Spanish government sought from the beginning of the French Revolution to ban French publications and restrict immigration from foreign colonies. Rumors of white rebellion circulated in Cuba as early as 1794, but members of its prospering elite gave only a passing thought to autonomy when the monarchy fell in 1808 and to annexation by the United States when slave emancipation was feared in 1811. Aminor proindependence plot among Havana creoles was easily suppressed in 1810.104 Far more fragile was Spain’s hold on New Orleans and the Floridas, which were largely settled by foreigners.105 Yet it was Venezuela that generated most seces- sionist activity. This consisted of a republican (and antislavery) plot in 1797, the exile Miranda’s incessant canvassing for foreign assistance, his invasion of 1806, and the war for independence launched in 1811. The strength of the colonial military and administration made it a long struggle, and only revolution in Spain in 1820 clinched the outcome.“’" Venezuela thus produced the only Caribbean planter class to emulate Virginia’s in winning self-determination. For some other social groups the encroaching plantation frontier brought about a complete loss of autonomy. In the Gulf Coast hinter- land the Creek nation was destroyed by the US. Army following the War of 1812 and the curious attempt to establish the multiethnic state of Muskogee.107 In the West Indies, the Cuban Cobreros won official title to land and liberty, but the Dominica maroons were finally subdued, as 20 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS were the Boni in Surinam. The Black Caribs were deported from Saint Vincent to Central America, and the Trelawny Maroons from Jamaica to Canada. Most scholars regard the Jamaican Maroon War as the product of local causes, though a few have argued that French revolutionary influence was behind it.108 Some Maroons did claim belatedly to be seeking slave emancipation, but the conflict essentially expressed their particularist interests. They attracted relatively few supporters and were opposed by the rival Accompong Maroons. Similarly, the Djuka Maroons in Surinam helped the Dutch repress the rebellious Boni, and the Maniel/Dokos of Saint Domingue followed a strictly opportunist policy through the Haitian Revolutigni'Co-opted by timely concessions, the Dominica maroons did not joi /"/in the local revolts of 1791 and 1795 or the French invasion in 1805, though they fought against planter encroachment before and afterw rds.109 Established maroon bands had separate interests and identities from those of the surrounding slave populations. They thus tended to ight their own battles, not those of the slave populationin general.110 evertheless, they remained a potent symbol. On bot Jamaica and D minica, maroons were regarded by slave conspirat rs as potential lllies in revolt.1“ During the Haitian Revolution, blackwhite, and, . ulatto revolutionaries referred in their proclamations to the example of earlier maroon struggle (in Jamaica rather than Saint Domingue), though the popular belief that bands of fugitive slaves played a major role in launching the revolution is largely mythological.112 Even in this age of revolution, the strength of the colonial regimes resided not just in their ability to wield overwhelming force and their willingness to use terror but also in their ability to divide their oppo— nents and persuade them the costs of accommodation were less than those of resistance. Everywhere the deadliest enemy of conspiracy was the common government tactic of rewarding betrayal with grants of freedom, land, or cash pensions. Most of the conspiracies listed in the table were betrayed, as were those of whites and free coloreds. More- over, colonial governments were able to recruit thousands of enslaved blacks as armed defenders of the status quo. Though this usually provided a path to freedom for the slave soldiers, it divided the black population while adding to the regimes’ strength. Independence was achieved in Haiti and Venezuela only after the negotiation of multiclass alliances. In the British Windward Islands, a shared Francophone iden- tity also helped cement a multiclass alliance of oppressed groups that yielded only to massive military pressure. Among Anglophone blacks, Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 21 however, French invaders often encountered a hostility to outsiders built upon the creoles’ growing sense of identification with their par- ticular islands. This constituted another obstacle confronting Caribbean rebels.113 Black refugees from Saint Domingue met with resentment from slaves in Jamaica; Barbadian slaves celebrated British victories over the French Republicm Then as now, migration provided an anti- dote to small island parochialism, and it is striking that numerous rebels had previously traveled in the region.115 Yet there is no reason to believe whites had a monopoly on xenophobia. The ruling classes were at war with one another for much of this period, and in the French and mainland Spanish colonies they were rent by revolutionary divisions. The intersection of international rivalries and race war complicated calculations of self—interest, but as a rule, colonial policies switched from displays of transnational race/ class solidarity in peacetime to the sponsoring of revolutionary upheaval in time of war. In 1791 the governors of Jamaica and Santiago de Cuba sent assistance to Saint Domingue planters, their commercial rivals, albeit with mixed emotions.116 The governors of Havana and Santo Domingo were certainly less helpful, but there seems no truth to the charge leveled by contemporaries and some historians that the British and Spanish governments encouraged the destruction of the French colony.117 Spanish individuals undoubtedly traded with the rebel slaves, but there is no evidence of official intervention until war broke out in 1793. Then both powers sought to annex the colony, not to destroy it. Nonetheless, Spain’s recruitment of the 1791 rebels as auxiliary troops and, in a different way, the British intervention of 1793—1798 did much to advance the black revolution.“ Defeat then led the British to assist Toussaint Louverture against the French, until peace with France caused a cynical reversal of this policy, permitting the Napoleonic invasion of 1802. The Spanish, for their part, sent soldiers to Grenada to help the ' British against Julien Fédon, and they provided the Jamaican govern- ment with hunting dogs to suppress the Trelawny Maroonsm During the Anglo-Spanish wars between 1796 and 1808, the British assisted Spanish American revolutionaries seeking to throw off rule from Madrid, but the return of peace prevented the insurgents from obtain- ing help when the revolution got under way. Both British and Spanish colonies gave French refugees a nervous welcome; conservative white property owners were favored, and many were naturalized, but others were intermittently excluded or expelled. N apoleon’s invasion of Spain in 1808 led to the large~scale expulsion of French residents from Cuba, though it caused less drastic results in Puerto Rico. Spain’s century-old 22 ] DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS sanctuary policy of welcoming runaway slaves from foreign colonies was withdrawn in 1790, and the following year a treaty with the Dutch sought to close the Orinoco to fugitives.120 This closing off of traditional havens to runaway slaves possibly helped increase the likelihood of slave rebellions in the non-Hispanic Caribbean. The French Revolutionary War differed from previous wars in the Caribbean, partly because it combined traditional imperial rivalries with a bitter civil war and unprecedented racial struggle. A contest between opposing world views, in which opponents were dehuman- ized, it generated exceptional brutality, as did the later struggle in Venezuela. Both white and black troops tortured their prisoners and collected severed heads as trophies.121 Blacks were fighting for their freedom, colonial whites for their way of life. French republicans re— garded colonists who collaborated with foreign invaders as traitors, and their opponents viewed them as low-born saboteurs of social order. In Guadeloupe, Saint Domingue, and Venezuela, royalists and republi- cans executed hundreds of their compatriots. The French government, moreover, ordered no quarter be given to British soldiers, just as Bolivar later ordered war to the death against belligerent Spaniards. Yet it was the black population that suffered the worst atrocities. These reached a peak in the Haitian war of independence, in which the Napoleonic army waged what amounted to a war of genocide. Europeans who believed in the progressive civilization of mankind found cause for reflection.122 The war was also unusual as regards the Europeans’ degree of reliance on black soldiers, which was a response to the high death rates of European soldiers in the tropics and the need to combat nonwhite insurgents in difficult terrain. Free colored militias and the occasional arming of slaves in wartime had a long history in the region. The second half of the eighteenth century also saw the formation of special non- white units to combat maroons, as well as growing concern about military mortality due to disease. The 17905 then brought dramatic change in this area. Royalists, radicals, and free coloreds in the French islands all armed slaves to fight for them in 1791—1792, and after the outbreak of war in 1793 more formal corps appeared that mixed former rebels with other recruits. The French organized légions and demi— brigudes of emancipated slaves; the British raised Chasseur regiments on the plantations of occupied colonies, and in a desperate gamble that soon went awry, the Spanish recruited tropas auxiliares among the Saint Domingue insurgents of 1791.123 In the War of 1812, the British armed slave fugitives, as they had in the American War of Independence; and ephemeral corps of rangers were used in the West Indies down to 1815. The major development/however,‘was the foundation in 1795 of the / / Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean I 23 West India Regiments as regular units of the British army. Recruited mainly from slave ships, they numbered twelve regiments in the middle years of the war and came to constitute one-third of British forces in the Caribbean.124 Comparable developments occurred after 1811 in Venezu- ela, where the Haitian example at first made both sides reluctant to arm slaves, but circumstances soon changed their minds.125 Though frequently opposed by planters, the military demanded the arming of blacks because of their degree of immunity to tropical dis— eases and their superior performance in mountainous and forested terrain. As a result, much of the fighting between the British, French, and Spanish actually involved blacks in combat with blacks. The nature of the conflict consequently was rather different from that of most previous Caribbean wars. Often fought in the interior of the islands, it was more mobile, more adapted to the landscape, using surprise attack and rapid dispersal—guerrilla warfare a decade before the term was coined. Orthodox assumptions sometimes had to be reversed. Cavalry, not previously a key element in Caribbean warfare, became critical for controlling the plains, where most slaves lived. Port cities usually considered indefensible from the landward side were able to hold out for years against attackers lacking in artillery skills; whereas, deprived of their naval support, the ports now proved vulnerable to assault from the sea.126 Until guns were widely distributed, Africans, accompanied by drumming and chanting, fought with bows and arrows and lances; they yelled and whistled to frighten their enemies. Provided with uniforms, they underwent a degree of Europeanization, but according to Moreau de Jonnés, even regimented black troops always fired in a prone position.127 Many perhaps saw their tricolor cockades or royalist cap badges as amulets rather than political symbols. If John Thornton is right that many had been soldiers in Africa, they were doubtless more experienced than some of the hastily raised European corps sent against them?” The war at sea, too, was mainly of an informal type, centered on privateering rather than fleet actions. Reviving an old regional tradi— tion, swift coasting vessels were converted into corsairs and wrought havoc among regional shipping. Far more than in earlier wars, non— white seamen now played prominent roles, especially in the French islands, in Tortola, and later in Spanish America. Off the coast of Saint Domingue, armed barges crammed with fighting men of all colors became the terror of becalmed shipping. British Caribbean commerce lost some 500 vessels per year in the period 1793—1805. However, of the more than 700 captured by Guadeloupe privateers in the mid—17903, half belonged to neutrals, as did most of those taken before British Vice- 24 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS Admiralty Courts. The Danish merchant Johan Nissen was plundered seventeen times during the warm North American losses led to the Quasi War between France and the United States in 1798—1800. Neutral trade nevertheless flourished.130 Privateers, we have seen, also spread the message of revolution, and seaborne propaganda was a novel feature of this war. Victor Hugues arrived in Guadeloupe with a print— ing press, and Pétion sent one back with Bolivar to Venezuela. The British in Trinidad also funneled seditious writings into Spanish America. Driven from the French Windward Islands in 1809—1810, French corsairs moved northward to New Orleans and at the end of the period were operating out of Cartagena and Les Cayes with Yankee, Haitian, and Spanish creole brethren. The privateering milieu spanned the hemisphere and provided continuity between the revolutionary movements of the age.131 The amount of blood and treasure expended by the European governments in defending their Caribbean empires has never been calculated. According to Michael Duffy, the campaigns of 1793—1801, excluding the expenses of the Royal Navy, cost the British government perhaps thirty million pounds.132 This was equivalent to a year’s prewar tax revenue, or somewhat less than the market value of one year’s British Caribbean exports during the period in question. Military mor- tality has been a very controversial topic, but it is now clear that, of the European troops sent to the Caribbean by Britain alone, some 70,000 died there between 1793 and 1815. The turbulent years of the great military expeditions, 1793—1798, claimed just over half this number. Nearly 33,000 died in the relatively uneventful years that followed. The defense of Jamaica, which was never attacked, cost more than 8,000 British lives. In the period 1793—1801, 50 percent of European troops in British pay died and another 14,000 were discharged or deserted, while the British navy lost more than 30,000 total casualties.133 The vast majority of military deaths—certainly more than 95 percent—were due to disease, chiefly yellow fever, which fed on the massive influx of nonimmunes and subsequent movements of population throughout the region.134 Battle casualties, Duffy shows, were “relatively trivial" even in the 1790 6% ean troops 'g'En‘erally died without seeing combat at all. ot even the ample, though death rates we probably not very different from those in earlier Caribbean conflicts.136 Much less is known about F nch and Spar) sh losses. Of the ap- proximately 60,000 soldiers and ma ional guardsmen sent from France to Saint Domingue in the period 1791—1803,1/most never returned. The majority perished of fever, though in the first half of the Haitian War of . \ . , rimean War prov des a comparable ex- Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 25 Independence battle casualties approached 20 percent of total French military deadm At the beginning and end of the French wars Spain had the largest garrison in the Caribbean, but its military losses were prob- ably the smallest. Cut off from its colonies and near bankruptcy for much of the period, Spain sent relatively few forces to the region between 1793 and 1811. Spanish troops, moreover, had the reputation of suffering the lowest mortality and morbidity rates. Only a minority were native to the Caribbean, but soldiers from southern Europe had a significant degree of immunity to malaria, as the French also found.138 Even so, Spanish losses to disease in Santo Domingo were very heavy, and garrisons dwindled everywhere. All in all, the regular armed forces of the main colonial powers must have lost at least 180,000 dead in defending or seeking to expand their Caribbean empires in the period 1791—1815. The losses of the local populations in resisting or assisting their ambitions will probably never be known. This enormous inflow of European troops and seamen formed part of a multifarious movement of population within the Greater Caribbean that is one of the notable characteristics of this period. Germans, Poles, Catalans, and Irish, as well as British, French, and Spanish, they added to the ethnic diversity of the region. Although the army was the ultimate deterrent against slave uprisings, slaves and soldiers had a certain amount in common. Similarly regimented and punished, they both were employed for heavy manual labor and they had a tendency to become fugitives. In garrison towns they lived in close proximity. They also had the reputation of stealing from plantation provision grounds and retailing stolen property.139 More than ever the military was a salient presence in Caribbean societies, patrolling and mounting guard, parading on town squares, and thronging the markets, bars, and broth- els of the seaports. Much of the military’s later influence on Caribbean popular culture perhaps dates from these years, when slave secret societies organized as “regiments” and “convoys,” and the carnival Jonkonnu figure changed from a horned beast to a European soldier.”u Colonial refugees and their slaves were another source of popula- tion movement. From 1791 to 1804 successive cataclysms in Saint Domingue sent thousands of whites and free coloreds back and forth between the French colony and Jamaica, Cuba, and the south Carib- bean, as well as permanently to North America and Europe. There were reputedly 10,000 to 18,000 French in Santiago de Cuba in 1803. By mid- 1804 scarcely a member of the former ruling class remained behind in independent Haiti.”l Santo Domingo similarly lost most of its white inhabitants when it was transferred to French rule in 1795; they went chiefly to Cuba, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela, though some returned in 26 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS 1809.142 Beginning in 1790, alternating waves of royalists and republi- cans also fled the French Windward Islands, overwhelming small neigh— bors such as Saint Eustatius and Saint Kitt's. In the summer of 1793, Dominica received 5,000 to 6,000 refugees from Martinique. Arriving sometimes in rowing boats, often destitute, refugees had to be housed on porches and in sheds, and everywhere became the object of govern- ment relief and public subscriptions. Together with thousands of pris- oners of war crammed into jails and prison ships, they stretched local food supplies and helped spread the pandemic of yellow fever that ravaged the entire region for much of this period. Large numbers died.”3 In the Spanish colonies, even conservative French refugees some- times met with widespread hostility. This was caused first by their worldly behavior and by popular perceptions of them as radical her- etics, and later by anger at the Napoleonic invasion of Spain. Their harshness toward their slaves occasionally also attracted comment. 14" In the British islands, too, foreigners were frequently feared as a political threat, particularly the free coloreds and the slaves. In early 1795, 900 of the 1,500 “French” in Antigua were slaves. Colonial governments peri- odically passed laws to exclude or expel nonwhites. However, if some sang revolutionary songs, others were considered "inoffensive" and a valuable economic resource. This was especially so in underdeveloped regions such as Puerto Rico, eastern Cuba, Trinidad, and Louisiana. Only 30 percent of the Saint Domingue refugees who moved to New Orleans when expelled from Cuba in 1809 were whites.145 Just as the social accomplishments of the French colonists tended to impress their hosts, the skills of their pastry cooks and laundry women also were appreciated. Some French refugees were able to set up in colonial trade and made quick fortunes, as in Saint Thomas, where more than 1,500 foreigners were naturalized in the period 1792—1801. In Santo Domingo French colonists opened bars and gaming houses. Other refugees turned to privateering, as in Puerto Rico and Santiago de Cuba. Whites, free coloreds, and slaves made important contributions to the sugar indus- try in Cuba and Louisiana and to the expansion of coffee cultivation (till then largely a French monopoly) in Cuba, Puerto Rico, and Jamaica. Their most lasting impact, perhaps, was in the reinforcing of Francophone culture in Louisiana and Trinidad.“16 A peculiarly embarrassing refugee problem for colonial administra- tions was the resettling of demobilized black regiments. How could former slaves with military experience be. integrated into a slave soci- ety? The problem was especially acute in the case of the Santo Domingo auxiliary troops, who as rebel slaves had devastated northern Saint Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 27 Domingue in 1791 and as mutineers had massacred 700 colonists three years later. When the Spanish surrendered Santo Domingo in 1795, a hard core of 800 black soldiers refused to be left behind. After the governors of Cuba and Trinidad refused to accept them, they were distributed between coastal Honduras, Campeche, Portobelo, and Florida—marginal regions with few slaves and a need for additional defense. The policy proved a success. The blacks in Honduras played a key role in defending Trujillo against a British attack in 1797, and on the Florida frontier the former rebel leader Biassou defended Spanish plantations against the incursions of Creek Indians led by a white American eccentric.147 The British faced problems similar to those faced by the Spanish when they too withdrew from Saint Domingue. The Chasseur regiments they raised were turned away from Jamaica and many were sent back to plantation labor under Toussaint Louverture. Some were captured at sea and incorporated into the army of Guade- loupe; the rest went to Trinidad and helped ensure that colony remained Francophone in culture under British rule. Trinidad and British Hondu- ras later became preferred locations for settling black levies from the War of 1812 and retirees from the West India regiments.” Spanish, British, and French all used Central America’s sparsely settled Caribbean coast for disposing of groups they feared. In 1791 Saint Domingue colonists deported some 200 slaves, known as "the Swiss,” who had been armed by free colored insurgents. Intended for the Mosquito Shore of Nicaragua, they were dumped instead on the tiny islet of English Key, which led to their repatriation by the alarmed colonists of British Honduras. Others followed in succeeding years, including survivors of Fédon’s rebellion on Grenada, and perhaps other black prisoners of war.”9 (Already by 1794 black prisoners from Saint Domingue filled the jails of Kingston, Havana, and La Guaira, and though the military sometimes tried to sell those it did not kill, recruit, or use for forced labor, purchasers could not always be found.)150 The largest group of forced migrants to Central America comprised the Black Caribs deported from Saint Vincent in 1797. The British moved more than 2,000 to Roatan, along with black rebels from Martinique. With the help of the tropus auxiliares recently arrived from Saint Domingue, the local Spanish transferred them to the mainland, whence they spread westward to their present homes.151 The war thus occasioned substantial population movements in the Greater Caribbean, some of lasting consequence. By far the most signifi- cant, however, was the continuing importation of enslaved Africans. About 800,000 arrived in the period 1789—1815, not counting the ap- proximately 240,000 sold in the southern states of North America. 28 [ DAVID PATRICK GECGUS Despite the removal of the huge Saint Domingue market, slave imports to the Caribbean fell by less than 20 percent in the 17905 from their peak level in the 17803. In the following decade abolition reduced them to one-third of their peak level (or, including the United States, one-half). Among new arrivals, adolescents from the Congo basin were more prominent than ever; captives from the Bight of Benin were markedly fewer.”2 This continuing inflow of new laborers fueled an economic growth that financed the huge costs of colonial defense and helped make them acceptable to European governments. Economic growth came from three other main sources apart from this infusion of new labor. New lands were brought into production, agricultural and manufacturing techniques, sometimes diffused by refugees, raised productivity even in the oldest colonies. And sugar production everywhere received a fortuitous boost from the adoption of the high-yielding Tahiti cane. The opening of the slave trade to the Spanish colonies in 1789 and the generalized relaxation of trade restric- tions in wartime further aided expansion.153 War drove up production costs considerably, but it also did the same for commodity prices. The decimation of Saint Domingue’s output, together with population growth and urbanization in Europe and the United States, reinforced the trend. Though not the only factor at work, and though its losses were not quite as dramatic as sometimes suggested, the revolution in Saint Slavery, War, and Revolution in the.Greater Caribbean ] 29 region, when peace came the world’s leading exporter of tropical staples was still Jamaica. As late as 1807 it exported three times as much sugar and seven times as much coffee as Brazil.159 In all types of agriculture, numerous small—scale or marginal pro- ducers went out of business. Yet this was by no means new. With war’s 30 I DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS sharing control of their trade. Only the United States managed to combine economic and political gains (on the Gulf Coast) while consoli- dating its position in regional commerce. Colonialism and slavery remained the defining institutions of the Caribbean, but they had received heavy blows and were henceforth on the defensive. The Haitian Revolution freed a half—million slaves and shattered France's status as a major colonial power. The fusion of black resistance, abolitionism, and secular libertarianism achieved in the French colonies in the 17905 proved of short duration, but a weaker amalgam was forged in the Spanish American Wars of Independence. Spain’s hold on its mainland possessions was far from broken by 1815, but thereafter the South American insurgents were committed to the policy of racial equality, military manumission, and eventual slave emancipation that was to bring them success within a decade. Florida, invaded several times from the north, would be sold to the United States in 1819. Meanwhile only Haiti achieved independence and only Louisi- ana joined it in escaping European rule. Although the Danish, Dutch, British, and North American slave trades were ended, the number of slaves in the Caribbean declined only slightly and thousands of trans- ported Africans would be sold there annually for almost another half- century. Colonial rule after 1815 brought an uneven movement toward economic liberalization, combined with tighter political control. Mer— cantilist restrictions, abandoned during the war, were reimposed, and planters continued to sell in a protected home market at the price of heavy taxation. Spain, however, soon granted a large measure of free trade to its islands in recognition of their burgeoning position in the world market and its own political and economic weakness. The British introduced similar though less radical reforms in 1822. Colonial repre- sentation in metropolitan legislatures, briefly allowed in France (1789— 1799) and Spain (1811—1814), was not continued. The French govern— ment rejected not only the innovations of the revolution but even the advisory colonial assemblies granted in the 17805. British opinion also favored greater control of colonial affairs. Representative government wasth introduced into the new colonial conquests, and the Colonial Office, nded in 1803, took an increasingly interventionist stance, which hel ed pave the way toward the abolition of British slavery in 1833.162 Slavery hanged for the better and for the worse. Demographic rates benefited i the long term from the increasing creolization of the slave population, but this was interrupted by the massive imports of the 17905 and c unteracted by the increasing concentration on sugar culti— Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 31 vation and the shift in settlement toward the unhealthy environments of the south Caribbean. More efficient work regimes in the British West Indies gave plantation slaves shorter working hours and more food, according to I. R. Ward, and on Guadeloupe the abolition of night work proved a durable legacy of the revolutionary period.163 Changing Euro- pean manners, abolitionist scrutiny, and the threat of rebellion probably helped reduce flagrant atrocities against slaves. Wartime also brought those with access to urban markets better prices for their forage, firewood, and foodstuffs, and the influx of troops and seamen no doubt increased prOstitution.164 The consequent flow of earnings may have increased acts of self—purchase, which along with manumission for military service contributed to the rapid growth of the free colored population in these years. The free nonwhite proportion of the popula- tion grew everywhere except in Cuba, where it was outstripped by white and African immigration. An expanding free colored sector per- haps increased some slaves’ hopes for freedom, but more generally it must have enhanced the sense of relative deprivation among those in bondage. If an end to slavery was hardly in sight in 1815, its elimination by either violent or peaceful means was much easier to imagine than it had been a quarter—century earlier. Though the antislavery movement had yet to adopt emancipation as a political goal, it enjoyed a burst of success in 1814-1817 in obtaining slave registration in the British colo- nies and agreements to end the slave trade from all remaining carriers. Slaves in the nineteenth century knew slavery was under attack; they were exposed to the growing European preoccupation with individual liberty; and the searing drama of Saint Domingue had demonstrated, to them and their owners, the possibility of successful revolt. Since 1791 colonial whites had been complaining that Caribbean blacks exhibited a “new temper and ideas” or were “no longer the same people."165 Slave conspirators and rebels now usually articulated demands for general emancipation, which they felt they could extract from a white society in which they knew they had allies. Henceforward, however, central government politics, not slave consciousness or planter morale, would be the critical element in ending Caribbean slavery. Although black resistance or war often formed part of the process, peaceful means were usually to predominate. The Haitian case, the product of a unique combination of war and revolution, was not easily forgotten but would never be emulated. Caribbean slaves might secretly revere the black state in their midst,166 but its contribution to the broader emancipation process re— mains controversial. Robin Blackburn makes strong general claims for 32 1 DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS its impact, but outside of Venezuela and Santo Domingo, these seem difficult to substantiate precisely. Seymour Drescher ’s rigorous analysis of the British antislavery campaign suggests the Haitian Revolution had no decisive or long—lasting influence on it.“’7 Michael Duffy argues persuasively that the Haitian Revolution removed a fundamental ob- stacle to abolition by lessening British concern that Britain’s losses would benefit its traditional enemy, but he seems to suggest the Anglo- French war had an even greater effect.163 To an uncertain degree the Haitian struggle enhanced European opinions of blacks; but proslavery writers rationalized Haitian achievements, and both the revolution and subsequent national development fueled contradictory propaganda. The contrast between the export—oriented, forced-labor regime of King Christophe’s northern kingdom and the peasant agriculture of Alexandre Pétion’s southern republic further complicated assessments. The striking enthusiasm for Haiti evinced by the conservatiVe Quarterly Review, cited in the introduction, proved short-lived, and after 1820 Haiti’s centrality to the European debate over emancipation gradually diminished.169 NOTES 1. The Danish, Dutch, and (temporarily) the French slave trades ended in 1803, those of Britain and the United States in 1808. The slave trade to Venezuela was banned in 1811. According to David Eltis, Economic Growth and the Ending of the Transatlantic Slave Trade (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), p. 56, British and United States involvement in the Cuban slave trade had largely ceased by 1820. 2. The two classic studies of the wider political and intellectual context are David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in the Age of Revolution, 1776—1823 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1975), and Robin Blackburn, The Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, 1776—1848 (London: Verso, 1988). » 3. Seymour Drescher, Capitalism and Antislavery: British Mobilization in Comparative Perspective (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), emphasizes mobilization rather than the temporal shift in attitudes stressed in David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1966). . 4. On the links between British and French antislavery, see Jacques-Pierre Brissot, Discours sur la necessite’ d'établir a Paris une Sociéte’ . . . (Paris, 1788); Benjamin Frossard, La cause des esclaves negres, 2 vols. (Lyon, 1789). 5. Gabriel Debien, Les esclaves aux Antilles frangaises aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siécles (Basse—Terre: Société d’Histoire de la Guadeloupe, 1974), pp. 485—487, 493—494; Robert Southey, Chronological History of the West Indies (London, 1827), vol. 3, pp. 18, 21—22; R. C. Dallas, History of the Maroons (London, 1803), vol. 2, p. 444; José Torre Revello, “Origen y aplicacién del Codigo Negrero en la America Espanola (1788—1794),” Boletz’n del Instituto de lnvestigaciones Histéricas (Buenos Aires) 15, no. 53 (July 1932): 42—50. 6. Michael Craton, "Slave Culture, Resistance and the Achievement of Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean 1 33 Emancipation in the British West Indies, 1783—1838,” in Slavery and British Society, 1776—1838, ed. James Walvin (London: Macmillan, 1982), pp. 105—106. 7. Julius S. Scott 111, "The Common Wind: Currents of Afro—American Communication in the Era of the Haitian Revolution," Ph.D. diss., Duke University, 1986, pp. 122, 158. 8. David Geggus, "The French and Haitian Revolutions, and Resistance to Slavery in the Americas: An Overview,” Revue Francaise d’Histoire d 'OutP-Mer 56 (1989): 107—124. Of those revolutionaries in the Caribbean who did most to advance the cause of nonwhites, Victor Hugues and Admiral Lacrosse subse- quently betrayed them, moving with the political tide after 1800. On France, see Yves Bénot, La Revolution francaise et la fin des colonies (Paris: La Découverte, 1989). On the ideological limitations of the Patriots in the Tropics, see Anne Pérotin Dumon, “Les Jacobins des Antilles ou l’esprit de liberté dans les Iles— du-Vent,” Revue d’Histoire Moderne et Contemporaine 35 (1988): 275, 284—290, 302—304. 9. Though racial equality had been mandated in the French Code Noir of 1685, it had largely been ignored. 10. Cited in David Geggus, “The Enigma of Jamaica in the 17905: New Light on the Causes of Slave Rebellions,” William 8 Mary Quarterly 44 (April 1987): 279. 11. Bénot, Revolution francaise; Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, chaps. 5 and 6. 12. Eugene Genovese, From Rebellion to Revolution: Afro-American Slave Revolts in the Making of the Modern World (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State Univer- sity Press, 1979); also see David Patrick Geggus, chap. 5 in this volume. 13. For recent discussion, see Carolyn E. Fick, The Making of Haiti: The Saint Domingue Revolution from Below (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1990), chap. 2; David Geggus, "Voodoo, Marronage, and the Saint Domingue Slave Revolt of 1791,” in Proceedings of the 15th Meeting of the French Colonial Historical Society, Martinique and Guadeloupe, 1989, ed. Patricia Galloway and Philip Boucher (Lanham: University Press of America, 1992). 14. Michael Craton, “The Passion to Exist: Slave Rebellions in the British West Indies,” Journal of Caribbean History 13 (1980): 1—20; Michael Craton, Testing the Chains: Resistance to Slavery in the British West Indies (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1982); Michael Mullin, Africa in America: Slave Acculturation and Resistance in the American South and the British Caribbean, 1736—1831 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1992); Drescher, Capitalism and Antislavery, pp. 104— 109. 15. Michele Duchet, Anthropologie et histoire au siecle des lumieres (Paris: Flammarion, 1977), chap. 3. This view is rejected in Drescher, Capitalism and Antislavery, p. 99. 16. However, one can argue that by weakening French commercial compe— tition, the Haitian Revolution was a vital precondition for abolitionism’s suc— cess in Britain; see It. 168. 17. I capitalize those maroon communities recognized by colonial treaties, which granted free status in exchange for the recapture of fugitive slaves. The Boni fought for such treaty recognition; see Wim Hoogbergen, The Boni Maroon Wars in Suriname (Leiden: Brill, 1990). Already free for a half-century, the Trelawny Maroons fought principally for their own particularist ends; see Geggus, “Enigma of Jamaica,” pp. 279-285. 18. Herbert Aptheker, American Negro Slave Revolts, 5th ed. (New York: International Publishers, 1987), p. 162. 34 | DAVID PATRlCK GEGGUS 19. Roger N. Buckley, Slaves in Red Coats: The British West India Regiments (New Haven: Yale Umversrty Press, 1979), pp. 76—77. . . 20. Formerly slaves of the Crown but left largely to their own devrces smce the seventeenth century, the Cobreros periodically took to the hills when attempts were made to reenslave them. In 1788 they sent a representative to Spain to plead their case. When tensions mounted in 1795, a group of them ambushed a patrol, killing an official, but they were pardoned two years later: In 1800 the government gave way and recognized them as free. See Jose Luciano Franco, Las Minas de Santiago del Prado y la rebelién de los Cobreros (Havana: Editorial Ciencias Sociales, 1975); José Luciano Franco, Los Palenques de los negros cimarrones (Havana: Coleccién Historia, 1973), pp. 57—87. 21. John Milligan, “Slave Rebelliousness and the Florida Maroon,” Pro- logue: The Journal of the National Archives 6 (1974): 8—18; Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, chap. 9. h . 22. Most were probably recruited by the free coloreds, and the malority were forced back onto their plantations once the freemen had gained their ends. They apparently revolted when this was first attempted, but this (bloodless) rebellion may also have been a free colored maneuver to extract arms from their opponents. See letter by Bauvais, 22 September 1791, Caradeuc Papers, Georgla Historical Society, Savannah. 23. Geggus, "Enigma of Jamaica,” pp. 279—287. On the Dominica maroons, see Craton, Testing the Chains, pp. 226—231. For another case, omitted for lack of evidence, see n. 36. 24. For example, see Léo Elisabeth, “Gens de couleur et révolution dans les Iles du Vent (1789—janvier 1793),” Revue Frangaise d’Histoire d’Outre-Mer, 282— 283 (1989): 90; W. J. Gardner, A History of Jamaica (London: Elliot Stock, 1873), pp. 243—244; V. S. Naipaul, The Loss of Eldorado (London: André Deutsch, 1969), pp. 250—257; E. L. Joseph, History of Trinidad (Port of Spain, 1838), p. 226. Keith Laurence notes that in Tobago and Trinidad conspirators exploited social organizations, not all of whose members were aware of the rebellions being planned; see Laurence, "The Tobago Slave Conspiracy of 1801,” Caribbean Quarterly 28 (1982): 7. 25. See table for references to individual revolts and conspiracies. The most detailed work on this period of Trinidad history mentions a wave of marronage following the outbreak of the Grenada uprising, slaves discussing liberty and equality, and unconfirmed rumors of mutiny, but nothing more; see Jesse Noel, “Spanish Colonial Administration and the Social and Econorruc Foundations of Trinidad,” D.Phil. diss., Cambridge University, 1966, pp. 283—284. Cf. Gustave Borde, Histoire de l’ile de la Trinidad sous le gouvernement espagnol (Paris, 1882), p. 246. 26. The case of Demerara 1795 is usually described as a rebellion, but it looks more like slave cooperation with maroon attacks than an actual revolt; see Alvin Thompson, Some Problems of Slave Desertion in Guyana, c. 1750—1814 (Barbados, 1976), pp. 27—28. For the Guadeloupe 1790 case, see n. 37. 27. Reference to Cuban revolts in 1792—1793 in Jorge Dominguez, The Breakdown of the Spanish Colonial Empire (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980), p. 160, derives from a confusion with later events. Revolts in Bayamo and in Holguin in 1811—1812 referred to in Allan Kuethe, Cuba, 1753—1815: Crown, Military, and Society (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1986), p. 171, apparently were plots that did not reach fruition, to judge from José Lucrano Franco, Ensayos historicos (Havana: Editorial de Ciencias Sociales, 1974), pp. 167—173, though this work (pp. 133—134) exaggerates Cuban resistance in the Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 35 17905. Alain Yacou, “Le Péril haitien,” Chemins Critiques 2 (1992): 85—92, mis— leadingly presents the 1805 Trinidad plot and 1798 Trinidad (Cuba) plot as major revolts. The incident of August 1798 on the Pefialver estate near Havana (see Geggus, chap. 5 in this vol., n. 38) was in my view a work strike rather than a revolt. I can also find no evidence of the Jamaican risings of 1793 or the French invasion that stimulated them, mentioned in Genovese, Rebellion to Revolution, p. 21. The revolt mentioned in Henri Bangou, La Revolution et l’esclavage a la Guadeloupe (Paris: Messidor, 1989), p. 42, occurred in Guadeloupe not Martinique. 28. Geggus, "Enigma of Jamaica,” pp. 274—276. 29. Add. Ms. 58906, 115—116, British Library, London. This report of 1791 quite successfully predicted which islands were to be most at risk. It contrasted the unfavorable terrain, strong defense forces, and creolized slave populations of Barbados, Saint Kitts, and Antigua with the almost entirely African slave population of Grenada and the "impassable woods” found there and on Dominica and Saint Vincent. Grenada had one of the highest black-to-white ratios in the region. 30. For discussion, see David Geggus, Slave Resistance Studies and the Saint Domingue Slave Revolt: Some Preliminary Considerations (Miami: Florida Interna- tional University, Occasional Papers Series, 1983), pp. 17—20. 31. Geggus, "Enigma of Jamaica,” pp. 288—299. To the cases reviewed in this article, some of the Guadeloupe revolts could be added, notably that of April 1790, which followed immediately the departure of a military expedition of 1,000 men from the island. Robert Paquette, Sugar Is Made with Blood: The Conspiracy of La Escalera and the Conflict between Empires over Slavery in Cuba (Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 1988), p. 293, denies that an increase in garrison strength coincided with a lull in slave resistance in Cuba in 1799- 1804, “because slave uprisings occurred in 1798 and 1799.” However, whether or not the incident of February 1799 on the Ponce de Leon estate was a strike or a revolt (see chap. 5 in this vol., n. 38), the following five years were apparently peaceful, in marked contrast to the previous five—year period. After declining substantially for six years, the island garrison was reinforced in 1799 (from Mexico and Santo Domingo) and again (from Spain) in 1802. 32. Those occurring outside the region include a three-day strike in Buenos Aires, 1795; a conspiracy of Brazilian slaves in Upper Peru, 1809; the 1822 Vesey conspiracy in Charleston; and a conspiracy on Bourbon (Reunion) in 1832; see Lesley Rout, The African Experience in Latin America (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), p. 120; "El alzamiento de Santa Cruz, 1809,” in Obras completas de Humberto Vasquez—Machicado y Iose’ Vdsquez—Machicado, ed. Guillermo Ovando Sanz and Alberto Vasquez (La Paz: Don Bosco, 1988), vol. 7, pp. 617-620; William Freehling, Prelude to Civil War: The Nullification Contro— versy in South Carolina, 1816—1836 (New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1965), pp. 53—61; Hubert Gerbeau, "De Saint-Domingue a Bourbon,” Revue de la Société Hai'tienne d’Histoire et de Géographie 163 (1989): 55—62. 33. In Virginia, 1730, Venezuela, 1749, and Peru, 1779. Emancipation ru- mors without evidence of plotting were reported in Martinique in 1768, Ven- ezuela in the 17705, and the French Caribbean in 1775. See Aptheker, Slave Revolts, p. 79; Federico Brito Figueroa, Las I nsu rrecciones de los esclavos negros en la sociedad colonial venezolana (Caracas: Editorial Cantaclaro, 1961), pp. 49—53, 59; Wilifredo Kapsoli Escudero, Sublevaciones de esclavos en el Perri (Lima: Universidad Ricardo Palma, 1975), p. 67; Lucien Peytraud, L’Esclavage aux Antilles frangaises (Paris: Hachette, 1897), p. 372; Debien, Les Esclaves, pp. 387— 36 | DAVID PATRICK GECGL'S 388. The Cobreros community of eastern Cuba, which had long asserted its freedom, began in 1788 claiming knowledge of a royal decree in its favor; see 11. 20. 34. Geggus, “French and Haitian Revolutions,” 119—121. On the three late British Caribbean insurrections, see Craton, Testing the Chains, pp. 254-321. 35. Barrington Moore, I njustice: The Social Bases of Obedience and Revolt (New York: Sharpe, 1978). 36. Letter, 1 December 1789, Colonies, C9A/162, Archives Nationales, Paris (hereafter, AN); Claude Wanquet, Histoire d’une revolution: La Reunion, 1789— 1803 (Marseille: Jeanne Laffitte, 1980), pp. 398~399. Unspecified “disturbances” did occur on some Saint Domingue plantations, however. On Bourbon, the rumors were particularly associated with esclaves du roi, belonging to the government. 37. AN, C7A / 44, 25—32, 36. Though he used the word “insurrection,” it is not apparent any violence occurred. An ambitious conspiracy was discovered that had been preceded by widespread marronage and (apparently verbal) confrontations between slaves and whites. 38. Unfortunately no details are available concerning the Aguadilla rebel— lion in Puerto Rico, which occurred probably in July, or about the Trinidad conspiracies of 1795. On dating the Aguadilla affair, see chap. 5, n. 23. 39. Wedgwood ceramics featuring a kneeling slave with the caption "Am I not a man and a brother?” or “Ne suis-je pas ton frere?” appeared in Saint Domingue and Jamaica. In both colonies literate free coloreds were said to have read pamphlets to slaves. On Martinique, town slaves were described as gathering in groups to hear pamphlets read. See letter of 10 October 1789, C9A / 162, AN; David Geggus, “Jamaica and the Saint Domingue Slave Revolt, 1791— 1793,” The Americas 38 (October 1981): 222; Scott, “Common Wind,” pp. 134— 135; Pierre—Francois Dessalles, Historitu thS troubles survenus a la Martinique, ed. Henri de Fremont (Fort-de-France: Société d’Histoire de la Martinique, 1982), pp. 17—26. 40. This was true of the revolts in Martinique (1789), Dominica (1791), Guadeloupe (1793), Curacao (1795), Demerara (1823), and Jamaica (1831). The Puerto Principe rebels of 1795 claimed to have had the same intention. Barba- dos (1816) presents a similar case. Craton, Testing the Chains, p. 291, gives other comparable examples. 41. Franco, Ensayos, p. 156; Anne Pérotin-Dumon, Etre patriote sous [es tropiques (Basse—Terre; Société d’Histoire de la Guadeloupe, 1985), p. 277. In 1789 Martinique slaves generally favored the governor, though some expressed doubts: F3/30, 74, AN. 42. Its renewal in 1789 gave rise to complaints from British colonists and diplomats, as well as confusion in Saint Dominguez Colonial Office (hereafter, CO) 137/ 88—89, Public Record Office, London (hereafter, PRO); letter of 23 October 1789, C9A/ 162, AN. For US. complaints, see Jane G. Landers, chap. 6 in this volume. 43. Significantly, in view of what later happened in Saint Domingue, the initiative for this policy came as much from the slaves as from Dunmore; see Sylvia Frey, Water from the Rock: Black Resistance in a Revolutionary Age (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991), chap. 2. As governor of the Bahamas, Dunmore visited northern Saint Domingue in 1789 and dined on the Galliffet estate, where the 1791 uprising would begin; letter of 12 April 1789, 107 AP 128, AN. 44. David Geggus, The Saint Domingue Slave Revolt and the Rise of Toussainr Louverture, forthcoming. The insurgents did not speak with one voice, and what Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean I 37 they did was no doubt more important than what they said. Nevertheless, the church and king rhetoric of their leaders, even if opportunist or bogus, suggests that French revolutionary ideology was not an important influence on the 1791 revolt. Cf. n. 51. 45. Franco, Ensayos, p. 156; also see chap. 5 in this volume. 46. Pick, Making of Haiti, pp. 91, 137—138; Scott, “Common Wind,” pp. 193— 199; “Jugement en dernier ressort," 19 August 1793, D XXV 129/1008, AN. In 1797 the demand for free days reappeared in Marie Galante, voiced by the ex- >laves subjected to forced labor; see Jacques Adéla'ide-Merlande, La Carat‘be et la .Iuyune an temps de in Revolution et de l’EIupire (Paris: Karthala, 1992), p. 120. 47. See n. 51. The tract is Abbé Sibire, L’Aristocratie négriére (Paris, 1789). in :he “Swiss” affair in western Saint Domingue, the rumored three clays some- :imes appeared as a royal reform, but sometimes were explicitly part of a deal Jetween slave and free colored rebels; report of 4 October 1791, D XXV 61/610, 3nd doc. 59, D XXV 1/12, AN. 48. Scott, “Common Wind,” esp. pp. 193—199. The Port Salut conspiracy 'ollowed the Dominica rebellion by two weeks. Southern Saint Domingue had .‘lose commercial links with the south Caribbean, particularly Dominica, Curacao, and Saint Thomas. Only twenty miles separate Dominica and \lartinique. The rumor reappeared in Bourbon in 1832. 49. Franco, Ensayos, pp. 151—153; Guillermo Baralt, Esclavos reheldes: :onspiraciones y sublevaciones de esclavos en Puerto Rico (Rio l’iedras: Ediciones uracan, 1985), pp. 21—23; Carlos Esteban Deive, La Esclavitud en Santo Domingo anto Domingo: Museo del Hombre Dominicano, 1980), vol. 2, p. 479; Eleazar Lurdova-Bello, La lnt‘lependencia a’e Haiti y su influeucia en Hispanoamérica Caracas: lnstituto Panamericano, 1967), pp. 146, 150. 50. In Venezuela, Cuba, Santo Domingo, Louisiana, and New Granada, :olonial governments protested against the decree: Torre Revello, “Origen y ‘zplicacién,” pp. 44—47; Scott, “Common Wind,” pp. 150—157. in Florida, too, the ‘panish administration seems to have quietly avoided publishing it; communi- ation from Sherry Johnson. 51. David Geggus, “The Slaves and Free Coloreds of Martinique during the Age of the French and Haitian Revolutions: Three Moments of Resistance,” in zrts beyond the Seas: The Lesser Antilles in the Age of European Expansion, ed. Robert L. Paquette and Stanley L. Engerman (Gainesville: University Press of florida, 1996). 52. Pérotin-Dumon, Etre patriote, p. 277; Bangou, La Révolution, p. 46. 53. Cf. Pedro Arcaya, lnsurreccién de [05 negros en la serrania de Cora (Caracas: :istituto Panamericano de Geografia y Historia, 1949); Miguel Acosta Saignes, '.ia de los negros esciavos en Venezuela (Caracas: Hespérides, 1978), p. 279; “ederico Brito Figueroa, E1 Problema tierra y esclavos en la historia de Venezuela, 2d .1. (Caracas: Ediciones de la Biblioteca, 1985), pp. 225—232; Scott, “Common find,” p. 158. On the Puerto Principe rebellion, see chap. 5 in this volume. 54. The French law of May 15, 1791, enfranchising some free coloreds f :‘obably helped create the emancipation rumors surrounding the Saint .tomingue uprising of the following August, especially as the colonists forced 1e governor to reject it. 55. A recent increase in the sales tax was certainly a major grievance of the _ oro rebels, who demanded its abolition, as did free colored rebels in Cuba in august. The Louisiana conspiracy doubtless owed something to French at- . inpts to seize the colony, but the often-asserted involvement of French agents 35 never been proved. On Puerto Rico, see n. 38. 56. Victor Hugues on Guadeloupe and Goyrand on Saint Lucia assisted :"i 5 My 38 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS rebellions on Grenada, Saint Vincent, and Dominica in 1795 with soldiers and guns. Hugues’s successor Bresseau invaded Curacao in 1800 (though without approval from Paris). Agent Roume in Saint Domingue attempted to organize a rising on Jamaica in 1799, and he perhaps was behind the Santo Domingo plot of 1795. French involvement in the Coro and Maracaibo movements was apparently unofficial. Commissaire Sonthonax in Saint Domingue pretended he had established links with Jamaica, but French involvement in the Second Maroon War has not been proved; see Geggus, “Enigma of Jamaica,” pp. 279— 287. 57. De la Revolution frangaise aux revolutions créoles et négres, ed. Michel Martin and Alain Yacou (Paris: Editions Caribéennes, 1989), pp. 10, 15. 58. See nn. 68, 69. In the 1800 rising on Curacao, town slaves also sang “Down with those who trample on the people’s rights," and in 1797 three mulatto slaves from Curacao were deported from La Guaira for singing revolu- tionary songs; see Roberto Palacios, "Ansia de Libertad,” Lanternu 1 (1983): 20— 27; Carlos Edsel, “Trois mulatres de Curacao, chantres de la liberté,” in Revolution frangaise, ed. Martin and Yacou, pp. 61—68. 59. F3/30, 116—119, AN. ' 60. Pérotin—Dumon, Etre patriote, pp. 137—138, 274—282; Lucien-Rene Abenon et al., Antilles 1789: La Révolution aux Carai'bes (Paris: Nathan, 1989), pp. 163—166; Independent Chronicle (Boston), October 17, 1793. However, the gover— nor thought the April 1790 conspirators genuinely believed they had been freed; see n. 37. 61. Letter of 10 October 1789, C9A/ 162, AN. 62. This was the opinion of the first Haitian historian, Thomas Madiou, H is toire d’Ha'z'ti (1847—1848; 2d ed., Port au Prince: Département de l’Instruction Public, 1922), vol. 1, p. 490. It also seems to be the argument of Genovese, Rebellion to Revolution, p. 90. Both Toussaint’s and France’s commitment to general emancipation came about in two stages, marked by the local abolition in Saint Domingue by Commissioner Sonthonax in August 1793 and the Convention’s decree of the following February. See David Geggus, “From His Most Catholic Majesty to the Godless Republic: The ’Volte-Face’ of Toussaint 'Louverture and the Ending of Slavery in Saint Domingue,” Revue Frangazse d’Histoire d’Outre—Mer 65 (1978): 481—499; Geggus, "French and Haitian Revolu- tions,” 116—119. 63. David Geggus, "Toussaint Louverture and the Slaves of the Bréda Plantations,” Journal of Caribbean History 20 (1985—1986): 30—48. The original slave leaders of the 1791 insurrection continued their counterrevolutionary campaign in opportunistic alliance with the proslavery Spanish. 64. Anne Pérotin-Dumon, “The Emergence of Politics among Free Coloureds and Slaves in Revolutionary Guadeloupe,” Journal of Caribbean History 25 (1993): 109. The governor of Guadeloupe, however, thought they were slaves; C7A/44, 36, AN. 65. Others include the Dominica rising led by the mulatto Apollinaire and _ the Marie-Galante plot (1791); the Curacao (1800) and Martinique (1811) rebel- lions; the Havana and Bayamo conspiracies and Guanabo rising in Cuba; and the Santo Domingo rebellion (1811—1812). The "French negroes from captured ships” who conspired in Nassau in 1797 and spoke of Saint Domingue must have been (re)enslaved freemen. Free coloreds also played a role in the Port Salut conspiracy and northern plain rebellion in Saint Domingue (1791), the risings in Guadeloupe (August 1793) and Curacao (1795), the conspiracies in Louisiana (1795), Cartagena (1799), Tobago (1801), Trinidad (1805), Puerto Rico, « . n...»_ 1:-.. ma Mow nrlpans (1812), and Jamaica (1815). Here I am not Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 39 counting the free colored revolts that also included slaves, as in Grenada and Dominica (1795). 66. Geggus, ” French and Haitian Revolutions," pp. 109—113. The statement in José Luciano Franco, Revolucion y conflictos (Havana: Academia de Ciencias, 1965), p. 11, that the Jamaican Maroon War resulted from Victor Hugues’s propaganda seems without foundation. 67. In the latter category were the Louisiana (1791) plot; the revolts at Boca Nigua (1796) and Puerto Principe (1798); and the Carupano (1798), Demerara (1807), and Jamaica (1806—1807) conspiracies. The claim‘in Bridges, Annals of Jamaica, p. 284, unsupported by other sources, that the latter plot and that of 1809 were linked with French refugees may be doubted given the work’s highly xenophobic stance. The Bayamo conspiracy (1812) primarily involved Africans of the local cabildos, free and slave. Though motivated by Aponte’s propa- ganda concerning an emancipation decree, it apparently was set off by a local incident of brutality by a military patrol and was weakened by ethnic rivalries. The Igbo plot on Jamaica (1815) did have some links with British abolitionism and a mulatto priest from Saint Domingue, but otherwise had a traditional appearance, as defined by Michael Craton or Eugene Genovese. 68. Brito Figueroa, Problema, pp. 225—235; Brito Figueroa, lnsurrecciones, pp. I 60—79. Not infrequently privateers were former contraband traders, and south- ern Saint Domingue had close commercial links with Curacao and the Venezu- elan coast. 69. Two of the leaders, Louis Mercier and Toussaint, who declared “Nous sommes ici pour vaincre ou mourir,” were probably from Saint Domingue. See Johann Hartog, Curacao: From Colonial Dependence to Autonomy (Aruba: De Wit, 1968), pp. 125—128; Cornelis Goslinga, The Dutch in the Caribbean and Surimim, 1791/95—1942 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1991), pp. 1—20. 70. Gwendolyn Hall, The 1795 Conspiracy in Pointe Coupée,” Proceedings, ed. Galloway and Boucher, pp. 130—141; Jack Holmes, "The Abortive Slave Revolt at Pointe Coupée, Louisiana,” Louisiana History 11 (1970): 341—362. The Tobago conspiracy of 1801 is a comparable case. With peace negotiations in progress, the conspirators may have hoped to force the colony's return to French rule. 71. Though the latter was a multiclass insurrection, I have classed it among the slave revolts, since it seems to have included the autonomous involvement of the entire rural slave population but only a minority of local free coloreds and “glues, who nonetheless played key roles; see Palacios, "Ansia de libertad,” pp. 2 27. 72. Brito Figueroa, Problema, pp. 234—235. Moreover, among the leaders of the Curacao revolt were (as in 1795) a local black named Rigaud and residents from Saint Domingue. 73. John E. Bauer, “International Repercussions of the Haitian Revolution, " The Americas 26 (April 1970): 417; Scott, “Common Wind," chap. 4; Kieran Kleczewski, "Martinique and the British Occupation, 1794—1802,” PhD. diss., Georgetown University, 1988, pp. 331—332. 74. Geggus, “French and Haitian Revolutions,” pp. 110—112; Gardner, Jamaica, p. 239; Revolution francaise, ed. Martin and Yacou, pp. 38—39; Alain Yacou, “Le Projet des révoltes serviles de l’Ile de Cuba dans la premiere moitié du XIXe siecle,” Revue du CERC 1 (1984): 51. I do not think this means slaves were “well-informed” as argued in Hall, “Pointe Coupée.” Even literate whites lived in a world of rumor and uncertainty. Cf. the Pierre Bailly case described by Kimberley Hanger, chap. 7 in this volume. 75. J. R. Ward, British West India Slavery, 1750—1834 (Oxford: Clarendon M- 40 l DAVID PATRlCK ceccus Press, 1988), p. 229; Jacques Adéla‘ide-Merlande, Documents d’histoire antillaise et guyanaise (n.p., 1979), p. 52. 76. Geggus, “Enigma of Jamaica,” 276—277; Lionel Fraser, History of Trinidad (Port of Spain, 1891—1896), vol. 1, p. 268. 77. Slavery, Abolition and Emancipation: Black Slaves and the British Empire, ed. Michael Craton, James Walvin, and David Wright (London: Longmans, 1976), p. 138. The same year, the Spanish government suddenly found it prudent to recognize the freedom of the fractious Cobrero community, no doubt because of eastern Cuba’s close links with Saint Domingue; see n. 20. 78. Such cases include the conspiracies in Jamaica (1791), Santo Domingo (1793), Tobago (1801), Trinidad (1805), Havana, Bayamo, and Puerto Rico (1811—1812), and the rebellions in Santo Domingo (1796) and Barbados (1816). In Trinidad (1795) and Tobago black resistance in Grenada and Guadeloupe was also held up as an example. 79. Apart from the Curacao cases and those discussed in chap. 5, examples include the conspiracies in the Bahamas (1795, 1797), Cartagena (1799), Ha- vana, Bayamo, and Puerto Rico (1811—1812), and, less surprisingly, Louisiana (1795) and Tobago (1801). The leader of the fugitives who fought US. troops at Prospect Bluff, Florida, in 1816 was a Pensacola slave named Garson; see Milligan, “Slave Rebelliousness,” p. 14; Jane Landers, "Slave Resistance on the Southern Frontier: Fugitives, Maroons, and Banditti,” unpublished paper. 80. Baralt, Esclavos rebeldes, p. 27. In northeast Brazil, free colored militia~ men were discovered wearing cameo portraits of Dessalines a year after he was crowned emperor, and in a later rebellion they sang of emulating Christophe; see Luiz Mott, "Arevolucao dos negros do Haiti e o Brasil," Mensario do Arquivo Nacional 13 (1982): 5; Franco, Ensayos, p. 184. 81. Franco, Ensayos, pp. 154—180. Prominent among the conspirators was Hilario Herrera from Azua on the Santo Domingo frontier, who had lived through the Haitian Revolution. Another owned a copy of one of Christophe’s proclamations. 82. Jean Fouchard, “Quand Haiti exportait la liberté,” Revue de la Société Hai‘tienne d’Histoire et de Géographie 143 (1984); Palacios, “Ansia de libertad,” pp. 20—27; Yacou, “Le Péril ha’itien,” pp. 85—92; Baralt, Esclavos rebeldes, pp. 17—20. 83. Geggus, "Enigma of Jamaica,” 287—288. 84. Defeated by Toussaint Louverture, they were fleeing to France. 85. See n. 51; Franco, Ensayos, p. 183; Deive, Esclavitud, vol. 2, p. 479. 86. Paul Verna, Pétion y Bolivar: Cuarenta afios de relaciones haitiano— venezolanas (Caracas: Oficina Central de lnformacién, 1969), pp. 87—298. Once again, Curacao radicals such as Luis Brion were key intermediaries. A gradual emancipation law had already been passed by insurgents in New Granada but it remained without effect; Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, p. 348. 87. In a contrary sense, the destruction of Saint Domingue inhibited moves toward independence in Cuba and encouraged the expansion of slavery else- where. 88. Edward Cox, The Free Coloreds in the Slave Societies of St. Kitts and Grenada, 1763-1833 (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press), pp. 76—91; Craton, Testing the Chains, pp. 180—210. 89. The French free coloreds’ club founded in Paris in September 1789 was called the Société des Colons Américains. For much of the 17905 free colored commanders in Saint Domingue enjoyed de facto independence in their locali- ties. 90. Franco, Ensayos, pp. 95—100. Misdating the plot to 1796, Paquette, Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 41 Sugar, pp. 75, 124—125, underestimates its immediate causes, 1 think, and limitations. 91. David Geggus, “La Révolte de Jean Kina a Fort—Royal, décembre 1800,” Revue de la Socie’té Hai‘tienne d’Histoire et de Géographie 140 (September 1983): 12—25; see n. 51. 92. David Geggus, “Racial Equality, Slavery, and Colonial Secession dur- ing the Constituent Assembly," American Historical Review 94, no. 5 (December 1989): 1297—1303; Elisabeth, “Gens de couleur,” pp. 79—93. 93. Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, pp. 341—347. 94. Geggus, "Enigma of Jamaica,” 278—279; Cox, Free Coloreds, pp. 96—100. 95. See chaps. 6 and 7 in this volume; Kuethe, Cuba, pp. 166—168, 172. 96. Most of Aponte’s and Chirino’s co-conspirators were blacks. Other examples include José Ortiz of the Cartagena conspiracy, Joseph Suarez at Maracaibo, many minor figures such as Jean-Baptiste Cap and Romaine Riviere in Saint Domingue, and the free blacks who administered a ritual “conspira— tors’ drink” to the Curacao rebels of 1795. Mulattoes were more prominent in the Maracaibo plot (which is perhaps best classified as a free colored rather than slave conspiracy), the Martinique (1811) rebellion, one of the Dominica revolts, and the Marie Galante plot. Charles Deslondes of Louisiana was thought to be a frlee mulatto, but Robert Paquette (chap. 8 in this volume) shows that he was a s ave. 97. Before the revolution, a white southerner had already suggested the name in a proposal for political reform; see anon, Essai sur l’administration des colonies francoises (Antonina [Les Cayes], 1788), p. 12. 98. David Nicholls, Prom Dessalines to Duvalier: Race, Colour and National independence in Haiti (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), chap. 2' Alfred Hunt, Haiti’s Influence on Antebellum America (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1988), chaps. 3—5; Karin Schiiller, Die deutsche Rezeption haitianischer Geschichte in der ersten Halfte des 19. Jahrhunderts (Cologne: Bohlau 1992); David Brion Davis, “American Equality and Foreign Revolutions ’1 Journal of American History 76 (1989): 747—749; David Geggus, “Haiti and the Abolitionists: Opinion, Propaganda and International Politics, 1804—1838,” in Abolition and Its Aftermath: The Historical Context 1790—1916, ed. David Richardson (London, 1985), pp. 113—140. 99. Henri Lémery, La Revolution francaise a la Martinique (Paris: Larose, 1936); David Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution: The British Occupation ofSaint Domingue, 1793—1798 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982), chap. 3; Pérotin-Dumon Etre patriote, chaps. 5—9. I 100. Geggus, “Jamaica and the Saint Domingue Revolution,” pp. 225—229. Note, however, that English and French "republicans" upset the authorities in Havana with their celebrating together the success of the revolution; Royal Gazette (Kingston), 1792, no. 42, p. 22. 101. French colonial productivity, along with overmanning in the merchant marine, contributed to the effect. 102. Rioting troops burned the capital of Tobago in 1790. Those of the Port au Prince regiment killed their colonel in 1791. 103. The Core-Maracaibo region was an exception. The revolt of 1795 helped ensure the failure of Miranda’s invasion in 1806. 104. See chap. 5, n. 13; Kuethe, Cuba, pp. 156—162, 171; Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, p. 388. . 105. Ernest Liljegren, “Jacobinism in Spanish Louisiana, 1792—1797,” Loui- stana Historical Quarterly 22 (1939): 49—97; Thomas Abernethy, The South in the 42 | DAVlD PATRICK GEGGUS New Nation (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1961), pp. 330—366. A rebellion of North American settlers in 1810 extended along the Gulf Coast US. gains from the Louisiana purchase. Another revolt in 1812, in East Florida, misfired. . 106. Naipaul, Loss of Eldorado, pp. 135—154; Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, pp. 340—350; Verna, Pétion y Bolivar, pp. 76-298. _ 107. The creation of Augustus Bowles, an ex-Loyalist secretly backed by Bahamian merchants, Muskogee lasted from 1799 to 1803. With Governor Dunmore’s support, Bowles had invaded Florida in 1788 and 1791; "see Lyle McAlister, "William Augustus Bowles and the State of Muskogee, Florida Historical Quarterly 40 (1962): 317—328. H ' 108. Cf. Franco, Revolucién y conflictos, p. 11, and Geggus, Enigma of Jamaica,” pp. 279—287. 109. Craton, Testing the Chains, pp. 226—231. . 110. A possible exception might be found in Demerara in 1795; see n. 26. H 111. Craton, Testing the Chains, pp. 224—225; Geggus, "Enigma of Jamaica, . 277. p 112. Geggus, "Voodoo, Marronage," pp. 23—28. 113. Craton, Testing the Chains, pp. 165—168. . ’ 114. Geggus, "Enigma of Jamaica,” p. 292; Hilary Beckles, Black Rebellion in Barbados (Bridgetown: Antilles Publications, 1984), pp. 60—61. 115. On the diaspora of Francophone blacks, see n. 79. Aponte had done militia service in Florida, and possibly with Miranda in the American War of Independence. His lieutenant Hilario Herrera, "el lnglés," was from Santo Domingo and later pfitfipa ed in the 1812 rebellion there. The Venezuelan freemen Chirino and Gonzalez d respectively visited Saint Domingue and Curacao; the latter had been to Spain, nd their companion José Ortiz featured ; in both the Coro and Cartagena conspir es. The 1798 plot in Trinidad, Cuba, involved slaves from Curacao and Jamaica. , V 116. Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, .93; Jose Luciano Franco, Documentos para la historia de Haiti en el Archivo Na anal (Havana, 1954), p. 81. 117. E.g., Jules Saintoyant, La Colonisation fran ise pendant la Revolution (Paris: La Renaissance du Livre, 1930), vol. 2, pp. 77 84; Tadeusz Lepkowski, Haiti (Havana: Casa de las Américas, 968—1969), v 1. 1, pp. 62, 69; Franco, Revolucién, pp. 29, 31. ’ H . I 118. Geggus, "The Great Powers a d the Haitian R volution, in Tordesrllas y sus consecuencias, ed. Berndt S roter and K rin Schuller . (Madrid: Iberoamericana, 1995), pp. 114—122; Ge us, Slavery, ar and Revolution, chaps. 3, 4, 15; also see chap. 5, n. 43, in this vo V e. 119. The Cuban administration would notrhfiwever, provide dogs or cattle to help the British in Saint Domingue: Franco, Revolucion, p. 45; Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, p. 164. 120. Scott, "Common Wind,” pp. 188—189; Thompson, Some Problems, p. 27. 121. Bernard Foubert, “Les volontaires, de l’Aube et de la Seine-Inférieure » a Saint-Domingue,” Bulletin de‘la Société d ’Histoire de la Guadeloupe 51 (1982): 30; Pierre Pluchon, Toussaint Louverture: Un Révolutionnaire noir d’AnCien Régime (Paris: Fayard, 1989), pp. 491—492; Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, pp. 282 284; Verna, Pétion y Bolivar, pp. 125—129. 122. Marcus Rainsford, An Historical Account of the Black Empire of Hayti (London, 1805), introduction. 123. Fick, Making of Haiti, pp. 161—166; Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, c..- -...- nrll- . r: - A0 Canfi:nk nnlinv rnnnr'hll‘l lnno traditions 0f Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 43 arming blacks and welcoming foreign slave fugitives, as well as local dislike of the French, hatred of the French Revolution, and the desire to reconquer what had been Spain’s first American colony. 124. Buckley, Slaves in Red Coats, p. 55, estimates about 13,400 Africans were purchased for the regiments down to 1808. At least another 6,000 slaves were purchased for the Chasseurs in Saint Domingue. The combined cost exceeded 1.25 million pounds. 125. Davis, Age of Revolution, p. 80; Verna, Pétion y Bolivar, p. 97. 126. In the Haitian Revolution the development of a black artillery took time, notwithstanding Alexandre Pétion’s personal virtuosity in the matter. The departing British would have retained two coastal towns in 1798 (for strategic reasons) but for this development. No battery was dressed against Cap Francais until November 1803; the city surrendered the next day, so ending colonial rule. This is one reason I think the comments in Roger N. Buckley, The Haitian Journal of Lieutenant Howard (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1985), pp. 137—138, are misplaced. _ 127. Alexandre Moreau de Jonnes, Essai sur l'hygiéne militaire des Antilles (Paris: Migneret, 1816), p. 19; Geggus, Slaveri , War and Revolution, pp. 318—319; Foubert, “Volontaires,” p. 30. 128. John Thornton, “African Soldiers in the Haitian Revolution,” Journal of Caribbean History 25 (1993): 58—80. 129. M. W. B. Sanderson, "English Naval Strategy and Maritime Trade in the Caribbean, 1793—1802,” Ph.D. diss., London University, 1969, chaps. 3—4; Arnie Pérotin-Dumon, "Commerce et travail dans les villes coloniales des Lumieres: Basse-Terre et Pointe—a—Pitre, Guadeloupe,” Revue Francaise d’Histoire d’Outre-Mer 75 (1988): 65; Johan Nissen, Reminiscences of a 46 Years' Residence in the Island of St. Thomas (Nazareth, Pa., 1838), pp. 38, 58; Vice-Admiralty Court papers, 1793—1794, Jamaica Archives, Spanish Town. 130. John Coatsworth, “American Trade with European Colonies in the Caribbean and South America, 1790—1812,” William 69* Mary Quarterly 24 (1967): 243—266; Nissen, Reminiscences, pp. 16, 50, 61. 131. Anne Pérotin—Dumon, “Course et piraterie dans le Golfe de Mexique et la Mer des Antilles: L’Ultime épisode, ou la contribution des ’corsarios insurgentes’ a l’indépendance de l’Amérique,” Bulletin de la Sociéte’ d ’H istoire de la Guadeloupe 53—54 (1982): 49—69. 132. Michael Duffy, Soldiers, Sugar, and Seapower: The British Expeditions to the West Indies and the War against Revolutionary France (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1987), p. 372. Also see David Geggus, "The Cost of Pitt’s Caribbean Campaigns, 1793—1798,” Historical Journal 26 (1983): 704—705. 133. See Duffy, Soldiers, Sugar, and Seapower, pp. 329—334, for the period 1793—1801; garrison returns for 1799—1815, War Office (W0) 17/ 1733, 1875—- 1879, 2490—2504, PRO; and for Jamaica, W0 17/ 1985—2005, PRO. The total of military dead is 71,640, but Duffy included deaths en route to the Caribbean. Buckley, Slaves in Red Coats, p. 99, arrived at asimilar figure using different sources. His estimate that 97,000 European troops in British pay served in the Caribbean in this period probably needs increasing by about one-third. 134. Buckley, Slaves in Red Coats, p. 100, contends that lead poisoning was more important than fevers, but this seems improbable for many reasons; see David Geggus, “The Destruction of the British Army in the West Indies: Some Further Comments,” Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research 61, no. 4 (1978): 238—240. 135. Duffy, Soldiers, Sugar, and Seapower, pp. 337—338; Geggus, Slavery, War 44 1 DAVID PATRICK GECGUS and Revolution, pp. 364—365. In 1809, the year Martinique was captured, British losses in the south Caribbean were 24 killed in action and 2 dead from wounds out of 1,910 total dead: WO 17/2499, PRO. 136. Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, pp. 363—364. Frank and Andrea Cook, Casualty Roll for the Crimea (London: Haywood 8: Son, 1976), pp. 243, 245, show 19.3 percent of British forces in the Crimea died “in the east” (20,707), and that of these 13 percent were killed in action. The French army lost a larger proportion, but of its 95,000 dead, 10.5 percent were killed in action and 15.7 percent died of wounds; René Guillemin, La Guerre de Crimée (Paris: France- Empire, 1981), p. 316. 137. Pluchon, Toussaint Louverture, p. 572. 138. Moreau de Jonnés, Essai, pp. 22—23, 26; Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, p. 364. 139. Yvan Debbasch, “Le Marronage: Essai sur la désertion de l'esclave antillais,” L'Année Sociologique (1961): 39; Charles Frostin, "Papiers des Antilles III,” Cahiers des Amériques Latinas (1966): 183; Scott, “Common Wind,” pp. 50— 53. 140. Judith Bettelheim, “Jamaican Jonkonnu and Related Caribbean Festi- vals,” in Africa and the Caribbean: The Legacies of a Link, ed. Franklin Knight and Margaret Crahan (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979), pp. 81, 86, 95; Naipaul, Loss of Eldorado, pp. 250—257. 141. Philip Wright and Gabriel Debien, “Les Colons de Saint—Domingue passes a la Jama'ique," Notes d’Histoire Coloniale 168; Alain Yacou, "La Présence francaise dans la partie occidentale de l’ile Cuba au lendemain de la Révolution de Saint-Domingue,” Revue Francaise d’Histoire d’Outre—Mer 84 (1987): 149—188; Alain Yacou, "Esclave et libres francais 21 Cuba au lendemain de la Revolution francaise,” Jahrbuéh fiir GWte von Staat, Wissensrhaft und Gesellschaft Lateinamerikas 28 (1991): 163—197. \~\‘ 142. See chap. 5, n. 46. \‘\. 143. Boston Independent Chronicle, January 1, 1793; Lowell]. Ragatz, The Fall of the Planter Class in the British Caribbean, 1763— 33 (New York: Century, 1928), pp. 236—238; Anne Pérotin-Dumon, “Révolutio naires francais et royalistes espagnols dans les Antilles,” Revue Francaise d’Hz toire d’Outre-Mer 56 (1989): 125—158; Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, pp. 9 —97. 144. Santo Domingo 1110, Por illo to Acufia, 5 September 1793, AGI, Sevilla; Angel Sanz Tapia, Los Milit res engrados y as prisonieros franceses en Venezuela durante la guerra contra la rev lucién (Caracas: Instituto Panamericano, 1977), pp. 74, 106, 132—133; Maria Luq e de Sénchez, ” olons francais réfugiés ‘a Porto Rico,” in Revolution francais , ed. Martin and Yacou, pp. 41—48; Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, p\3\88; Gabri lDebien, "Les Colons de Saint-Domingue réfugiés a Cuba, 1793—181'57’LREvista de Indias 13 (January 1954): 559—605; (June 1954): 11—36. 145. Robert Dallas, The Maroons of Jamaica (London, 1803), vol. 2, p. 456; Borde, Trinidad, p. 246; Gardner, Jamaica, p. 239; Ragatz, Fall of the Planter Class, p. 237; Paul Lachance, "The Politics of Fear: French Louisianians and the Slave Trade, 1786—4809,” Plantation Societies in the Americas 1 (1979): 162—197. 146. Nissen, Reminiscences, pp. 16, 50, 90; Chapman Milling, “The Acadian and San Domingan French,” Transactions of the Huguenot Society of South Caro— lina 62 (1957): 33-34; Gabriel Debien, "De Saint-Domingue 51 Cuba avec une famille de réfugiés,” Revue de la Faculté d ’Ethnologie 8 (1964): 18; Manuel Moreno Fraginals, El lngenio: Complejo econémico soctal cubano del azucar (Havana: Edito- rial de Ciencias Sociales, 1978), vol. 1, pp. 71—72. Also see 11. 141 above. Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 45 , l 147. Estado 5/23, 24, 28, etc., AGI, Sevilla; n. 154 below; chap. 6 in this V0 Lime. 148. CO 319/6, 118, 126, PRO; Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, pp. 379— 381; Buckley, Slaves in Red Coats, pp. 136—317. 149. CO 123/13, PRO; Nancie L. Gonzalez, Sojourners of the Caribbean: Etlmogenesis and Ethnohistory of the Garifuna (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1988), p. 53; Cox, Free Coloreds, p. 80. 150. Sanz Tapia, Militares enzigrados, pp. 78—103, 147, 173, 263—264; Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, pp. 265, 282~284, 324. After the Napoleonic recon— quest of Guadeloupe in 1802, 2,000 black soldiers were deported and perhaps sold; Adélai‘de—Merlande, La Cara'z‘be, p. 162. p 151. Guatemala 805, AGI, Sevilla; Gazeta de Guatemala no. 15, 21 (1797); Gonzalez, Sojourners, pp. 39—41. Some Black Caribs remained hiding on Saint Vincent down to 1800; WC 1 / 89, 493, 567, PRO. 152. Data from Eltis, Economic Growth, p. 249. The more recent figures in David Richardson, "Slave Exports from West and West-Central Africa, 1700— 1809: New Estimates of Volume and Distribution,” Journal of African History 30 (1989): 1—22, suggest a less abrupt shift between the 17805 and 17905 and that Caribbean imports may have peaked in the 17605. 153. Ward, British West Indian Slavery, chap. 4; Moreno Fraginals, El lngenio, vol. 1, pp. 71—72, 78—95. 154. Seymour Drescher, Econocide: British Slavery in the Era of Abolition (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1977), pp. 76—91, 116. The produc- tion figures presented for Saint Domingue in the 17905 usually omit the output oi either the Republican or British-occupied zone; those of 1800—1801 were probably deliberately understated. On the importance of rising demand, see Eltis, Economic Growth, pp. 37-38. 155. Data in Noel Deerr, History of Sugar (London: Chapman 8: Hall, 1949), vol. 1, pp. 112, 131, 193—203, 212, 245; Francisco Scarano, Sugar and Slavery in Puerto Rico: The Plantation Economy of Ponce, 1800—1850 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1984), p. 7; Dale W. Tomich, Slavery in the Circuit of Sugar: Martinique and the World Economy, 183041848 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990), pp. 15, 24, 30, 42. Note, however, these figures mask the replacement of semirefined sugar exports with those of low-value muscovado. 156. Data in Francisco Pérez de la Riva, El Cafe’: Historia de su cultivo y czrplotacion en Cuba (Havana: Jesus Montero, 1944), p. 51; Drescher, Econocide, p. 79; James Leyburn, The Haitian People (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1966), p. 320. 157. Barry Higman, Slave Populations of the British Caribbean, 1807—1834 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press), pp. 55—63; Drescher, Econocide, chaps. 59; Duffy, Soldiers, Sugar, and Seapower, pp. 380. .158. Data in Stuart Schwartz, Sugar Plantations in the Formation of Brazilian Somety (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), pp. 422—434; Moreno Fraginals, Ingenio, vol. 1, pp. 40—42, vol. 2, p. 173. 159. Data in Colonial Brazil, ed. Leslie Bethell (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), pp. 314, 327—328. 160. Ragatz, Fall of the Planter Class, . 206; Drescher, Econociie ' - Ward, British West Indian Slavery, chap. 3. p L I passun, ‘ 161. Britain gained Saint Lucia and Tobago from France, Trinidad from Spain, and much of the Dutch Guiana colonies. Direct trade between British Caribbean colonies and Britain rose from one—fifth to one-quarter of total 46 | DAVID PATRICK GEGGUS British trade, then fell back to one-fifth by 1815: Duffy, Soldiers, Sugar, and Seapower, pp. 378—393; Drescher, Econocide, chap. 8. 162. David J. Murray, The West Indies and the Development of Colonial Govern- ment, 1801—1834 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), chaps. 4—7; Henri Blet, Histoire de la colonisation francaise (Grenoble: Arthaud, 1946), vol. 2, pp. 47—52, 60—64; Louis Pérez, Cuba: Between Reform and Revolution (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), p. 72; Scarano, Sugar and Slavery, p. 18; Ragatz, Fall of the Planter Class, pp. 338-339. 163. Higman, Slave Populations, passim; Ward, British West Indian Slavery, chap. 6; Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, p. 478. 164. Nissen, Reminiscences, p. 39; Geggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, p. 1791 8. January 1, Saint Lucia 9. Early January, Dominica 10. Mid-January, Dominica 11. January, Saint Domingue 12. May, Guadeloupe l3.June—-Ju1y, Saint Domingue 279 14.]uly, Louisiana 165. See n. 74; Geggus, "Enigma of Jamaica,” p. 277; Craton, Testing the Chains, p. 225. Cf. Pierre Dessalles, La Vie d’un colon a la Martinique au XlXe siecle, 2d ed., ed. Henri de Frémont (Courbevoie: De Frémont, 1988), pp. 86, 187; Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, p. 384. 166. In 1836 the Cuban government discovered that the banner of Bayamo’s Carabali cabildo bore a plumed cocked hat (as worn by Haitian officials) in place of the royal crown; Franco, Ensayos, p. 185. 167. Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, pp. 30, 300—315, 527;-Drescher, Capitalism and Antislavery, pp. 98—99, and Econocide, pp. 168—169, 214-223. 168. Duffy, chap. 3 in this volume;.Duffy, Soldiers, Sugar, and Seapower, pp. fifibean: GEnesQ‘Za Fragmented Nationalism, 15. August, Marie—Galante 16. August—November, Saint Domingue l7. November—December, Jamaica 1792+ 18. Saint Domingue 391-393. Cf. Franklin KnighE‘Phe—Ga 2d ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), p. _QB1ackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, p. 145. Even Drescher observes that in 792 “never before in the eighteenth century did the French colonies seem less ‘ ely to be serious rivals"; Econocide, p. 119. 169. David Geggus, "British Opinion and the Emergenc of Haiti, 1791- 1805” in Slavery and British Society, ed. Walvin, pp. 123—149; eggus, Slavery, War and Revolution, pp. 285—289; Geggus, "Haiti and the Aboliti nists,” pp. 113- 140,- Drescher, Capitalism and Antislavery, pp. 98—99. 1793 19. March, Santo Domingo 20. April, Guadeloupe 21. April, Guadeloupe 1 22. April, Guadeloupe B.-August, Guadeloupe Slave Rebellions and Conspiracies, 1789—1815 24 saintLuda Time and Place Revolt (R) or De ils Conspiracy (C) . 1794 1789 I//. 1/ ‘ 7.5. February, Martinique 1. August, Martinique R «"Saint Pierre district. 300—400 ' slaves. ' 1795 2. Demerara R 1 plantation. Widespread . , 26. Early, Santo Domingo Conspuacy' ' 27. Trinidad 1790 ' 28. April, Louisiana 3. May, Bahamas 30. May, Venezuela 31. July, Cuba 32. July? Puerto Rico 33. August, Curacao 34. Demerara 1 plantation. 7 Petit Bourg, etc. 100+ punished. 1 plantation. 1 overseer killed. 1 plantation. 2 slaves executed. West coast. Pillage and killing. 3. January, Cuba 4. April, Guadeloupe 5. Spring? Venezuela 6. May, Tortola 7. October—December, Martinique wwwww WOOWQOWWD (3 -Q WWOOWO W .9 ‘ WWEWWOOOO Slavery, War, and Revolution in the Greater Caribbean | 47 Soufriére. 1 plantation. Work stoppage / desertion/ con- frontation. Free colored leader. 1 white killed. Port Salut. 200 slaves. Saint Anne. Led by mulatto slave. Separate revolts on 3 estates. Pointe Coupée. 17 slaves ar— rested. Saint Domingue free colored hanged. North Province. 100,000+. North Coast. Revolt spreads beyond North. 1,0005. Hinche. 19 arrested. No execu- tions. Trois Riviéres. 200. 20 whites killed. Baillif. 5 death sentences. Basse—Terre region. 14 punished. Saint Anne. 1,000? slaves and freemen. Saint Luce. During British inva- sion. Samaria. 7blacks, 3 French whites. 2 conspiracies in south and north. Pointe Coupée. 23 slaves executed. Nassau. Francophone slaves. Coro. 300 slaves and free blacks. Puerto Principe. 15 slaves. Aguadilla. A few slaves. 2,000 slaves? 29 slaves executed. Cooperation with maroon attacks. ...
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