La guerre des récits : T. Madiou vs B. Ardouin

 

Whilst randomly searching for something on Thomas Madiou, we came across what looks like a Youtube channel dedicated to the history of Haiti. Despite the reliance on what appears to be AI-generated images, this channel could potentially grow into something. Their video on Thomas Madiou and Beaubrun Ardouin does a decent job introducing these two central figures in the development of Haitian historical writing. We are definitely on Team Madiou, appreciating his larger scale and use of oral historical methods. As for Ardouin, we were probably too strongly influenced by the negative depiction of him as a political figure in Michel-Rolph Trouillot's analysis promoting the state against nation paradigm. Nicholls and his focus on the "color question" also tarnished Ardouin for writing history as the so-called "mulatto legend," which was not entirely fair or accurate.  At the end of the day, however, both Madiou and Ardouin were elitists and guilty of their own biases, omissions, or mistakes. But both produced invaluable works, even if Madiou was likely the better historian.

Madiou's Autobiographie

Although our initial interest in Thomas Madiou's Autobiographie was due to a rather obscure topic related to his genealogy, we are glad to have finally read the full text. His Histoire d'Haiti series is something we have of course tackled, but find it difficult to fully read in PDF form (one day, perhaps, we shall purchase the whole series). His Autobiographie supplements his historical writing with personal details and accounts of his life, serving in various governments from Boyer to Domingue. Unfortunately, the book ends with letters to his son on the rise of Salomon. The editors also omitted some of the familial details of the early section and in the letters to Madiou's son in France. Those minor issues aside, the Autobiographie covers years his Histoire series does not. They also, despite Madiou's own biases, offer an insider perspective to the world of the 19th century Haitian statesman and intellectual. One may disagree with his interpretations and dislike his biases which reflect his own elite background and connections, but Madiou remains an indispensable source.

After reading Madiou's autobiography, one cannot help but feel somewhat depressed. More than a century after Madiou's death, Haiti remains trapped in the same cycles of political turmoil, corruption, unconstitutional rulers, crises over succession, and a brutal, morally repugnant oligarchy eagerly aided by certain malefactors and international interests. Even in Madiou's time, Haitian rulers often acted arbitrarily and would violate constitutions to serve their own interests. For example, Madiou had to intervene to stop Michel Domingue from executing one man without charge or trial, which raised the ugly issue of the color question since the man Madiou intervened to save was a "mulatto." In another even more disturbing case, involving an order calling for the execution of a group suspected of cannibalism in Petit-Harpon, Madiou similarly intervened to ensure the peasant leader was properly charged. Madiou also mentioned numerous instances of Haitian presidents ruling arbitrarily or the general corruption and lack of morals among the political class. The continual in-fighting of different cliques and factions among those holding political power could remove some of the most progressive forces in Haiti, too. The sad case of Francisque in the Soulouque administration exemplifies this, as Delva turned the emperor against a bright noir. 

Indeed, if Madiou is reliable, governments like that of Soulouque reflected serious moral or ethical decline among those holding political office. As the elites who were supposed to model proper morality and prepare the path for the illiterate Haitian masses to become "civilized" or Westernized, they utterly failed to escape the legacy of the colonial masters and Guinean (African) despotism. Perhaps due to his own French education and perceptions of African backwardness, progress for Haiti could come through Europe and people of mixed-race origins who were more likely to possess a Western education and outlook than the Haitian peasantry. Vodou, allegedly linked to (rare) cannibalistic rituals and backwards African customs, was an additional impediment to Haitian development. Madiou discussed it in a similar light in his other published work, almost repeating verbatim his past arguments about the lack of proper social groups in a country which lacked cohesion. Somehow we are supposed to believe the Haitian even lacks the sense of family, perpetually reproducing the negative models of Saint Domingue and Africa. Madiou's own biases and class background were perhaps too strong for him to have developed a more nuanced view of the Haitian lower classes. Nonetheless, he correctly identified them as the victims of a rapacious oligarchy that exploited the nation. The Haitian peasant was the sole productive member of Haitian society, they just required proper guidance and a constitution aligned with the moeurs and development of the society. 

Unfortunately, the legacy of caste and racial divisions persisted across the 19th century as noirs and so-called mulattoes, according to Madiou, clashed. After 1843, the separation of the two "castes" allegedly became more severe as "mulattoes" began to abandon their estates and focused more on urban-based sources of wealth and status. For someone like Madiou, assuming he really did believe the Western-educated Haitian jaunes represented a civilizing vector, this intractable legacy of caste and the exploitation of it by certain noirs must have been another factor in his bitterness or pessimism. Madiou seems even more blunt about the reality of caste in Haiti here than in the Histoire. While is does not explain every conflict in Haitian social or political history, there is no doubt it was an ever-salient factor. Indeed, if Madiou is to be trusted, it could become a matter of life and death. The role of class, naturally, informs this. The difference between piquets and cacos, for instance, could be partly seen through the class origins of those leading them. The urban working class support for Salnave likewise shows the complexity of social class and color. Yet Madiou's insistence on color as a factor cannot be dismissed since he, unlike Nicholls, actually lived in 19th century Haiti.

Through it all, Madiou himself suffered throughout the periodic crises and sequestrations of goods belonging to statesmen or ex-ministers whose governments were overthrown. In spite of this,, he continued to serve in various administrations and, according to his autobiography, sought to resist the Catholic Church's violations of the Concordat while promoting education across the country. Perhaps Madiou's standing, family connections, and reputation made him attractive to every Haitian head of state who could recognize talent, albeit one they sometimes abused or, after revolutions and coups, threatened or exiled. His talents as a diplomat for Haiti in Europe appear to have played a major role in assuaging tensions with Spain during the War of Restoration in the Dominican Republic. He appears to have been a dedicated statesman invariably interested in serving a nation that repeatedly disappointed him. Sadly, some of his worst predictions have come true. He foresaw the eventual US Occupation as well as the fragmentation or collapse of the state. The numerous transitional governments, squabbling coalitions, appointed/selected presidents and inability to build consensus are still here. The uncertainty of Nissage Saget actually stepping down when his term came to an end brings to mind Moise. The assassination of Septimus Rameau, of course, reminds one of Moise. Regrettably, not much has changed since Madiou's time...except it's even worse today. 

Haitian Allusions to Indigenous Ancestry in the DR

 Although genetics is now confirming that most people in the Spanish Caribbean do indeed have indigenous ancestry from the native populations of the Caribbean and its surroundings, it is worthwhile to consider the various Haitian sources which have been saying the same thing about the Dominican people (and their ancestors) for over 200 years. While hardly new, it does shed light on some of the ethnic and racial dynamics that shaped Haitian perceptions of Dominicans, and the question of political union of Haiti and Spanish Santo Domingo under president Boyer. It may also serve as an additional "local" Caribbean source on the legacy of the indigenous Caribbean population in the Hispanic Caribbean. The following quotations are mostly drawn from Thomas Madiou, with a few from Beaubrun Ardouin, Emile Nau, and one from the Haitian government publication, Le Moniteur. Google Books and Gallica contain numerous works by the aforementioned 19th century Haitian historians, which should be consulted for additional information.

Here, Thomas Madiou references a local military commandant addressing the local population of San Juan de la Maguana, affirming indigenous ancestry among the contemporary population of the eastern half of the island. Not only did commandant Herrera draw on on the legacy of the cacique Henri, he claimed the indigenous population as ancestors. Such a speech indicates how "Dominicans" themselves were claiming aboriginal ancestry in the 19th century.

Here Beaubrun Ardouin references an address of Dessalines which explicitly refers to the population of the east as descendants of the Indian population of Hispaniola. Clearly, over 200 years ago, Haitians were already recognizing indigenous ancestry among Dominicans. In this case, it could be rhetorical in the sense of Dessalines and the indigenous army, unifying it politically under his rule to complete the avenging of the Americas. 

Emile Nau, a 19th century Haitian historian of the indigenous population of the island, mentions "Indian" traits among the people of the island. He specifies that it is used to describe women of mixed-blood in the east, and "ignes" in the west, who have features associated with "Amerindian" people. He admits that none of these people are "pure," but it shows how certain phenotypes were associated with "Indios" in the DR (and, to a lesser extent, Haiti). 

Here, in Le Moniteur, a Haitian refutes the claims of an American observer in the 1850s that the Dominican people are whites. Instead, the author argues that most of the population are "mulattoes" and blacks, and the "mulattoes" have indigenous ancestry. The Indians, according to this Haitian, have mixed principally with Africans. 

Thomas Madiou on the "Indian" village of Boya, where descendants of the indigenous population of the island were recognized as an Indian town by the Spanish for centuries. Madiou claims there were still "pure" Indiens there in the 1700s, but different sources suggest otherwise. Intriguingly, for the 19th century, Madiou clearly states that there are no more "pure" Indians in Boya or any other part of the island.

Here, Madiou interestingly states that the Dominicans always affirmed an indigenous origin. This, according to him, played a role in the eventual 1844 separation of the Dominican side of the island from Haitian unification. If true, this suggests that one of the reasons Dominicans may have resented Haitian rule was due to their indigenous heritage, which would have, perhaps, made them feel more legitimate in asserting their right to independence and autonomy. 

Here, while referencing Haitians traveling to Santiago and the valley of Vega Real. There, the inhabitants are more of a "mestizo" type and a "mulato" type, but a footnote on the same page references a higher proportion of "mestizos" in Seybe and Higuey, in the east of the island. 

Here, alluding to the 1844 separation, Madiou references an "Indian" sergeant named Jose del Carmen. This could be an allusion to Jose del Carmen Garcia, an uncle of Dominican historian Jose Gabriel Garcia.

In the first volume of Madiou's history of Haiti, he also mentions a fusion of Indian and Spanish "blood" among the population of the Spanish colony. This process occurred over time under the poor governance of the Spanish, but resulted in a population with "Indian" blood.

Thomas Madiou, le père de l'histoire d'Haïti

 

I am really enjoying the videos on various figures in Haitian history and literature from Haiti Inter. This one discusses one of the major historians of 19th century Haiti, Thomas Madiou. I often find him to be more impartial than Ardouin and, at least politically, more agreeable. I still need to get my hands on the later volumes of his vast series on Haitian history...

Haitian Exports From Thomas Madiou

 I believe the data speaks for itself in some ways, although it's unclear what unit of measurement export items are in (pounds? feet?) and I am unsure of how to convert Haitian gourdes to US dollars or British sterling. Like most years of the Boyer dictatorship from 1833-1843, the central goverment spent more than it took in. 

An Image of 19th Century Port-au-Prince

While perusing writings by Thomas Madiou and Victor Schoelcher, I came across the above image of Port-au-Prince from the massive Histoire d'Haiti by the former. It's quite beautiful, with lush, detailed colors and the city of Port-au-Prince in the back. No artist is given from what I can tell, but it depicts Port-au-Prince at the beginning of the second half of the 19th century. Based on descriptions by Moreau de Saint-Mery and Charles Mackenzie, we know Port-au-Prince was not much of a city, at least compared to Cap-Francais or Le Cap, something confirmed by other travelers to Haiti during the first half of the 19th century. Port-au-Prince was, to folks like Mackenzie, lacking any fine architectural or admirable city edifices, and even in the colonial period Moreau de Saint-Mery said the same. Port-au-Prince has also been devastated by fires and other disasters, such as the explosion of the arsenal, which cost several millions to repair (I believe this occurred in the 1820s). 

In this image, however, lacking extra detail on the layout and streets of Port-au-Prince, shows a much better-looking city with the scenic mountains in the background and the bay. I don't know, based on this image, Port-au-Prince must have been a relatively interesting place to see in the 19th century, even if, as most Haitian towns, roads were in a state of disarray, ruins of former greatness surround you (assuming you believe old plantations and wealthy homes of French whites in Saint-Domingue are a sign of a great past), and Port-au-Prince was not overcrowded. 

I plan on returning to Madiou for a future post, perhaps one focusing on his perspective of the Dominican separatist movement in 1844. Schoelcher will also receive at least one short post, but it's hard tackling old French documents with my elementary French and online dictionaries...