Early Bainet, Jacmel, and Some Origins of Gens de Couleur

1703 Census translated and transcribed by De Ville.

We here at the blog are very interested in the history of Bainet. Thus, we could not resist preserving a copy of De Ville's translation of a 1703 census for the Jacmel quarter, which included Bainet. Taken just five years after the Compagnie de Saint-Domingue established Jacmel in 1698, it shows how underpopulated that region of Saint Domingue was in the early 1700s. The only plantations appear to have been indigo, and the entire black population was around 107 individuals (3 were free). Unexpectedly, there was a large gender imbalance among the white population, with about 12 adult women and 30 adult males and 9 garcons carrying arms. 

The black population also had more adult males than females, but the difference wasn't as stark. Moreover, the underpopulated Jacmel quarter only had indigo plantations or farms, with only 7 of the listed households owning an indigoterie. Presumably the rest, the vast majority, grew subsistence crops or provided services to the Compagnie de Saint Domingue or the owners of the indigo plantations. Perhaps some of the less fortunate whites were formerly indentured laborers, brought by the Compagnie or an earlier entity, and were only beginning to establish themselves as habitants by 1703. 

Baptism of Jean Baptiste Cange in 1719

Bainet's presence in the list can be found in numerous names listed here, whose largely mixed-race descendants formed an important part of the area in the rest of the 18th century. For example, Sougrain, Robin, Cangé and possibly Moreau, Bonnefoy, and Lemaire were surnames used by various free people of color families in and around Bainet, Jacmel, and Grand-Goave for the rest of the century. Presumably, they are the descendants of the white colons already in the area in 1703, and the enslaved or free people of color who married or bore children by them and their descendants. Historians have often pointed out the prevalence of interracial marriages in Bainet during the early decades of the 1700s, particularly that of white men lacking property and propertied women of color. 

Baptism of Jeanne Butet in 1709, the woman we suspect was a sister of Marguerite Butet

For instance, one of the surnames we have been researching, Cangé, was associated with a very large number of people in the area who were descendants of a Jean Celin Cangé who married a free "mulatto" named Marguerite Butet (probably the daughter of Rene or Louis Marin Buttet). While we are still unsure of who the two adult Cangé listed in this 1703 census was, we believe the Cangé name was brought to the area by two brothers or cousins. The first baptismal record for a Cangé born in the area, Jean Baptiste Cangé, indicates his parents were Jean Cangé and Marguerite Courville. 

1728 baptism in Jacmel parish of Marie Jeanne, child of Jean Cange and Marguerite. Jeanne Butet was the godmother.

It seems possible that the Jean Cangé who married Marguerite and began having several children (Jean Baptiste, Louis Celin, Pierre, Marguerite, Marie Jeanne) was probably one of the children listed in the Cangé household in 1703. Perhaps his wife's surname was mistakenly written as Courville in 1719, but she seems to have used Butet in most records identifying her (unless Jean Celin remarried another Marguerite in the 1720s). She was also connected to a Jeanne Butet, fille naturelle of Rene Butet and a free black woman, who moved to Jacmel and married a Boursicot. Some of their descendants would marry, too, further solidifying the family and property ties between some of the Cangé and Boursicot in the Jacmel and Bainet parishes. 

Baptism of a child whose godmother was Marguerite Butet, still alive in 1776

Regardless of the ultimate origins of the Cangé name in Saint Domingue, the marriage of Marguerite Butet and Jean Cangé was advantageous for both. Marguerite, through her father and uncle, had ties to early planters and administrators in the colony. Marriage to Marguerite could have helped the Cangé politically and economically, eventually paving the way for them to establish a coffee plantation in Grand-Goave. Clearly, in 1703, the Cangé household did not own an indigo plantation and they only owned 2 female slaves and 3 horses. Strategic marriage with a woman of color whose family were landowners and serving in the administration of the colony must have been a step up for Jean Cangé and increased the status of his mixed-race progeny. His free people of color children and grandchildren usually married other free people of color, and established themselves as coffee planters and left behind many descendants. We believe that it is likely most people with the Cangé surname and roots in Bainet, Jacmel, and Grand-Goave are descendants of these people in some fashion, as well as the enslaved majority of the population in the colonial era. Unfortunately, it is far more difficult to trace our enslaved forebears, but that will obviously occupy much of our future research into Bainet's history during the 18th century. 

Señor Blues

We here at the blog are currently constructing a Horace Silver playlist. While we are mostly drawn to his recordings featuring Joe Henderson, especially The Cape Verdean Blues and Song For My Father, we are forcing ourselves to listen to music from his various outfits and eras. Always the master of a funky Latin number, "Señor Blues" shows off Silver's mastery of a minor blues in 6/8 time. Silver, as always, shines in live performances with his deep blues and percussive piano style. 

The Housing Lark

Sam Selvon's brief novel The Housing Lark combines his typical comic sensibilities with a serious storyline about the struggle of West Indian migrants to find adequate housing in the racist London of the 1960s. Thematically, the story seems to combine the cynicism and disappointment of the later Moses novels with the humorous and episodic structure of Selvon's Trinidad novels or his famous work, The Lonely Londoners. Written in dialect and comprised of a ballad-like structure which heavily uses Trinidadian vernacular, calypso, and West Indian culture, history, and migrant experience, the novel's happy ending and promise of solidarity among West Indians in London hints at the rise of a "West Indian" identity among Caribbean migrants in the UK. Through their common experience of racialization, discrimination, and cultural differences with the English, one sees a powerful forging of a shared identity through "excursions," rum, Trinidadian and West Indian cuisine, chasing after "birds," and the central role of women in actually seeing to it that the "housing lark" succeeds. 

It's a novel for dreamers and reflects the sexist culture of the West Indian male characters like Battersby and Syl, but it's undeniably entertaining, witty, and hopeful. Who could resist laughing after reading the tale of Nobby and his English landlord giving him puppies he does not want? Or the ambiguous Syl, an Indian Trinidadian, who tries to pass as an East Indian to secure housing from a discriminatory landlord? After all, through the dream of Harry Banjo and the pragmatism of Jean, Matilda and Teena, they will find a house of their own. Thus, they will achieve a degree of security, space, and belonging in the "Mother Country" which rejects them. Sure, one can find elements of the pessimism of Selvon's later sequels to The Lonely Londoners, but there is a lot of optimism in this entertaining and immersive tale of 1960s Caribbean London. One wonders what transpired between the mid-1960s and the 1970s to cause Selvon's shift in tone and eventual relocation to Canada...

Hyperion

After so many friends and acquaintances have recommended it, we have finally read Hyperion. Due to its narrative structure of combining multiple stories and characters within the larger narrative of a pilgrimage to the mysterious world of Hyperion, Simmons is able to get away with combining various science fiction subgenres, tropes, and literary allusions that encompass horror, noir, cyberpunk, and a plethora of writers, ranging from Keats and Chaucer to Edgar Allen Poe and William Gibson. Sure, it's cool. It's occasionally interesting and crafts a fascinating post-Hegira future of humanity in the 29th century, under the Hegemony of Man. Neologisms are dropped throughout the text and context helps the reader keep up and figure out this fast-paced, complex world and its characters. Unfortunately, due to its very hodgepodge nature combining various tropes and genres, it lacks cohesion and the somewhat silly conclusion left a sour taste. Nonetheless, the reader is occasionally swept up in the world built by Simmons, and the sad future of humanity represented by the Hegemony, its troubled relationship with independent AI, and the Ousters. That may be enough to convince us to read the rest of the series. We shall see...