Showing posts with label Haitian Revolution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Haitian Revolution. Show all posts

Sunday, 7 November 2021

Toussaint L'Ouverture

 William Wordsworth wrote of Toussaint L'Ouverture:

"There is not a breathing of the common wind that will forget thee;
thou hast great allies;
thy friends are exultation,
agonies and love,
and man's unconquerable mind."
(published in the Morning Post, 2 February 1803)

Pierre Dominique Toussaint L'Ouverture - his surname possibly deriving from his bravery in battle where he once made a breach in the ranks of the enemy, was born a slave on Breda plantation, St. Domingue (Haiti), in 1746. It is said that he came from noble stock, in that he was the grandson of an African king, King Goau-Guinou of the Aradas. He was taught to read and write by Pierre Baptiste, a free black. It would appear that his father was highly regarded by the master of L'Habitation Breda, the Comte de Noé, who, upon his marriage to a slave Pauline, granted him 'liberté de savanne', a partial freedom that allowed the slave, although still the property of his master, freedom within the confines of the estate to live his own life.
"Toussaint's father was also granted a parcel of land and five slaves of his own to work for him," wrote Wenda Parkinson in an account of the life of Toussaint, entitled "The gilded African". There were five children born to the marriage, Pierre, the eldest, became a colonel in the army of the king of Spain; Paul served as a general in the French colonial army, Marie Jean, the only girl, married a colonel. There was a boy who died young named Goau-Guinou after his royal grandfather, and then there was Toussaint.
Philip Sherlock wrote of him:
"Toussaint had a quick mind, he learnt quickly, learnt from his father the use of healing herbs; learnt the ancient stories of his people, and above all learnt to hate the degradation of slavery."
The Comte de Noé was a man of the enlightenment and recognised in this family a natural intelligence. Being kindly, he lent the boys books.
St. Domingue, the futile, prosperous colony that it was, groaned beneath the weight of slavery. Toussaint saw men and women treated not as human beings, but as things. As a youth, tall, thin, a trifle frail, he was called 'fatras baton' - the thrashing stick. He tested his strength swimming the fast-flowing rivers, climbed to the hilltops alone and crawled up the rocky crags on the mountains above Breda. He saw the schooners and sloops setting out from Haitian ports for France, laden with such quantities of sugar, coffee, indigo and cotton that all of Europe marvelled. He saw the production of sugar grow and then grow even more to the stage when Haiti in 1789 was producing one third more sugar than all the British colonies in the Caribbean.
His father, the coachman to the Comte de Noé, would take him along when the Comte attended the affairs of the nobility. He saw the wealth that flowed into the estates, the finery from Paris, the opulence of absolute ownership. He knew that all this power and wealth rested on the basis of plantation slavery and was witness to the appalling cruelty so revolting that it would sicken you if it were to be recalled in detail.
Beneath this power, this wealth, beneath the crushing heel, there was a rising anger, swelling like some vast tide. As an explosion it came in 1791 when 100,000 Africans rose in revolt and swept the north of St. Domingue with fire and sword.
Toussaint joined the rebels. At first, he was suspect. They had won the hard-fought battles; they had put the fire, and they had faced the fire. But his determination was relentless and his skill in war obvious. By sheer power of his leadership he came to be regarded as their best general.
Regiments from France arrived and the colonists by and large refused the moderate terms of peace that were asked by Toussaint and the rebels. The colonists were contemptuous. "Did Toussaint think that they had brought half a million African slaves to the New World to make them French citizens?" they asked.
Now came the heroic moment in Toussaint's life: should he take the easy road and return to Breda, or the difficult road that meant years of war, perhaps even defeat? As a learned man, he may have remembered the words of Pericles, spoken in Athens over the Athenians who had given their lives for their country: "Life was dear, but they held their honour dearer, and so when the hour came it brought not terror but glory."
With that decision, a rebellion without a clear purpose became a war of liberation.
The hounds of war howled over the island and behind came the horsemen of the apocalypse, bringing disease, starvation and death. Toussaint first fought the French, then the Spaniards in the eastern half of the island (now the Dominican Republic). Then he fought against Maitland and his English army. His tattered army victorious, he now ruled all the island which Christopher Columbus had named Hispaniola, both what was once French and what was once Spanish.
In France, the French Revolution had swept the monarchy from the throne and had beheaded the aristocracy. Out of that new reality came Napoleon Bonaparte. The shadow of the Corsican dictator fell over all Europe. In Haiti, Toussaint strove to create a free African state. Napoleon saw quite clearly the real meaning of the Haitian revolution. He knew that the successful slave revolt in that island was a turning point in the history of the New World. He himself told his minister Talleyrand to inform England that "the freedom of the Negroes, if recognised in St. Domingue and legalised by France, would at all times be a rallying point for freedom-seekers of the New World".
Napoleon sent an armada of 46 ships to Haiti's harbours, carrying an army of 46,000 men to subdue Toussaint and his people. At first, the Haitian was overwhelmed and dismayed at the vastness of Napoleon's army. Turning of a strategy of "burnt earth", he summoned his best general Jean-Jacques Dessalines and instructed him:
"Remember that this soil nourished on our blood and sweat must not yield a crumb of food to our enemies. Keep all roads under constant fire. Throw the bodies of horses and men into all wells and springs, destroy everything, burn everything."
The three terrible allies Toussaint, yellow fever and dysentery reduced Napoleon's army to a shambles. In the end, having lost 60,000 men, Napoleon withdrew from the New World and gave up his designs on Haiti and Louisiana.
Toussaint had secured the freedom of Haiti. His actions were of direct benefit to the infant Federation of the United States, to whom Napoleon sold Louisiana. Toussaint, however, did not see the end. Betrayed by one of his friends, French General Brunet, he was kidnapped and taken to France. As the ship sailed into the rolling Atlantic swells, Haiti hardly more than a memory hovering on the horizon, Toussaint said:
"In overthrowing me, you have cut down in Haiti only the trunk of the tree of liberty. It will spring up again by the roots, for they are numerous and deep."
Toussaint L'Ouverture died ten months later in a fortress in the bleak and wintry Jura mountains, but the roots of the tree sprouted again and in 1804 Haiti was finally free.


Buy "Roume de St. Laurent – A Memoir" by clicking here:
Amazon
Barnes & Noble

Tuesday, 18 June 2019

Roume de St. Laurent ... A Memoir


"A creole cocktail of political thriller, historical romance and dashing picaresque replete with pirates and lost gold, corrupt financiers, ravishing coquettes, rabid revolutionaries and future emperors (Dessalines, Naploeon), Roume invites us to consider modernity in the New World, or what Besson frequently refers to as “the nightmare nest of slavery”. In dramatic fashion Roume examines the entanglement of Europe and the Caribbean on the cusp of the Haitian Revolution, the crossroads where the spirits of outmoded European feudalism and nascent capitalism, Enlightenment libertarianism and universalism collided with and contested the magical realism of an Afro-Creole worldview uneasily yet expediently allied with the ambitions of the offspring of the entanglement – the conflicted mulattoes.”
(Simon Lee,  Trinidad Guardian, 3 October 2016)

"Roume ‘works’ as a story from beginning to end, always moving and exciting, always unveiling inner truths about the Trinidadian or Caribbean spirit but also about the human spirit. It is never sensational, not even when you’re describing the horrors of the French Revolution. You ‘explain’ Trinidad better than any author I’ve read, although ‘explaining’ Trinidad is not your main goal. (Or is it?)
Most impressive to me is how you are able to display everywhere in your account such a keen sense of the virtue of restraint and subtlety.  I kept waiting for excess but never found it, not even once. The ‘poetical’ passages and touches are always deeply moving, and plausible, too. The whole thing is stunning.”
(Arnold Rampersad, Letter to the Author, 12 August 2016)

"Philippe Roume de Saint Laurent—who was he? Was he one of Trinidad’s heroes? He’s been called the “coloniser” of the island; he had a lot to do with the 1783 Cedula of Population and the subsequent waves of French migration here, which did indeed “populate” the island and open it up to plantation development….This long, sprawling novel reads like an epic romance, even though the basic facts about Roume’s career are accurate. There’s piracy in the Caribbean, hidden treasure (buried in a cave in Gasparee), revolution and war in France and Saint Domingue/Haiti, intrigues, villainies, manhunts and plots…. Besson’s exciting and lushly written novel gives us a romantic and fascinating view of Trinidad, France and the Caribbean during the era of Revolution—the best and the worst of times, as Dickens famously wrote at the start of his A Tale of Two Cities.”
(Bridget Brereton, Trinidad Express, 2 June 2016)


ISBN: 978-976-8244-21-5
530 pages
Softcover / Kindle

Click here to purchase the book on Kindle and as a paperback on Amazon

Click here to purchase the book as a paperback on barnesandnoble.com



Making room for Creole history
Review by Simon Lee
Published in the Trinidad Guardian, 3 October 2016

"Jerry Besson’s latest foray into the not so distant but largely forgotten past –a fictionalized memoire of Philippe Roume de Saint Laurent, the man who engineered the 1783 Cedula for Population which birthed modern Trinidad – ebulliently mixes genres in a stampede of individual and historical narratives, exploring aspects of Creole sensibility which have slipped through the seine of recent Caribbean historiography.
 Yet this heavyweight, at close to 500 pages and hugely ambitious in its scope (tracing the creolization of Enlightenment ideals and centering the ‘peripheral’ Caribbean at the heart of the ill-fated French and successful Haitian revolutions) lightly sidesteps the tedium of much historical fiction. Roume immerses readers intimately in the lives of such unforgettable imaginary characters as Sarusima the Carib or the demented white Creole Tante Mam’zelle, along with historical figures like Roume’s shape-shifting second wife Marianne ‘Soubise’ Rochard, the Grenadian mulatresse, whose fictional journals both anchor her husband’s narrative of opportunism and also provide another, insider’s point of view of the events he engaged in.
 A creole cocktail of political thriller, historical romance and dashing picaresque replete with pirates and lost gold, corrupt financiers, ravishing coquettes, rabid revolutionaries and future emperors (Dessalines, Naploeon), Roume invites us to consider modernity in the New World, or what Besson frequently refers to as “the nightmare nest of slavery”. In dramatic fashion Roume examines the entanglement of Europe and the Caribbean on the cusp of the Haitian Revolution, the crossroads where the spirits of outmoded European feudalism and nascent capitalism, Enlightenment libertarianism and universalism collided with and contested the magical realism of an Afro-Creole worldview uneasily yet expediently allied with the ambitions of the offspring of the entanglement – the conflicted mulattoes.
 Although the Haitian Revolution/War of Independence has attracted the attention of writers across the region from Walcott and Lamming, to Cesaire, Glissant and Carpentier, only historians like Laurent Dubois have attempted to chart revolutionary movements throughout the Caribbean at the end of the eighteenth century. In fiction it is only Besson who has made the connection between the Haitian uprising of 1791 and the Fedon uprising in Grenada of 1795, which like similar uprisings in St Vincent and St Lucia challenged the institution of slavery and European hegemony. It is the figure of Roume, a white Grenadian-born creole, who allows Besson to make the connection. Roume’s life journey took him on the wings of ambition and opportunism from Grenada to Trinidad, South America, Europe, Tobago and twice to Haiti, first as an agent of the French crown and then as High Commissioner of the French Revolution.
 Besson characterizes Roume as Frontier Man and Creole by birth and sometime conviction, embodying in him the contradictions of the Caribbean white massa slave-owning class, tainted by the legacy of the nightmare nest of slavery. When his first European-born wife Fanny recoils from him, still reeking from his latest sexual encounter on their Grenadian estate, he dashes her exotic fantasies (“a life of adventure, a sensual mixture of fecundity and elegance in a place on the frontier of the New World…she saw herself with him in paradise”) with all the callousness of those who viewed the slaves as property at worst, or “intelligent animals…without souls” at best. “You had to cover them, conquer them, breed them,” he rages at her with plantation pragmatism.
 Ironically it is a product of precisely this brutal regime, the mulatresse Soubise Rochard, who becomes his second wife, soul mate and companion for life. Born as Marianne Katronice, the illegitimate daughter of an estate owner and his slave mistress, she crosses the divide erected by the aristocracy of the skin when freed by her dying father. However, in pre-Fanon style, for survival purposes, she cultivates a Creole identity as Soubise, only reverting to Marianne when occasion demands.  She is aware of the common ground which unites her with Roume and which ultimately severs him from the Old World despite his manoeuvring: “As a Creole, descendant of Europeans born in these islands, Philippe had an understanding of the land, climate and the blacks…The salt of the Caribbean Sea ran in his veins…we, Philippe and I understood things differently –Phillipe’s imagination contained a great deal of my own.”
 Soubise also recognizes Roume’s fluid identity, knowing “he possessed the actor’s gift of being all things to all men. A born Creole.” His central belief in free will and choice, allied to his insatiable drive to be an agent of change lead him to a major role in the worst excesses of the French Revolution, when as a “blooded Jacobin” he embraces the period of The Terror drawing on an internalized legacy of violence: “we of the slave islands understand how to live without a sense of humanity.”

By positioning Roume at the centre of the revolution in France, Besson echoes the theory of CLR James and others that the modern world was birthed in the Caribbean, in Haiti. Some of the best elements of Enlightenment philosophical theory (equality, liberty) were compromised, betrayed and eventually reversed by the French, because philosophy makes for bad economics and the French Revolution depended financially on slavery as much as the Ancien Régime. As one of the metropolitan characters puts it when dismissing the slaves’ claims to the Rights of Man: “ Rights, human rights cannot apply to them. Soulless, they have not the faculty of choice. Anyway that would mean a collapse of the economy. France cannot afford to free her blacks.” It took the “soulless creatures” of Haiti to effect the praxis of Equal Rights and fight for them successfully, establishing the world’s first free black republic at the same time as Napoleon swept aside the vestiges of the French Revolution to re-establish the old order, in the new guise of an empire.
 Roume’s decline is directly linked to the ascendancy of both Toussaint l’Ouverture  and Napoleon. Sent back to Hispaniola as the Republic’s High Commissioner in 1799, Soubise recognizes the dilemma he faces: “ You must make up your mind, are you of the Caribbean, or do you belong on the other side, the Atlantic.” Although Roume has by now arrived at a common understanding with Toussaint whom he reveres (“both believed that a Caribbean interpretation of the republican ideal could be arrived at. This belief had at its centre the certainty shared by them that the African…was a complete human being.”) he elects to put down his bucket with Napoleon, rejecting Toussaint’s offer “Stay and this nation will honour you…You will stand, an equal, with the men who have liberated the New World.’ Roume’s hestitation can be read as symptomatic of the Creole malaise of failing to fully embrace first liberty and much later independence, the same psychopathology Fanon and Naipaul highlighted, which is still with us in the postmodern Caribbean.
 Roume can stand alone as a viscerally entertaining text, dramatizing the genesis of the modern Caribbean. Viewed in the context of Besson’s prolific oeuvre, both historical and fictional, we can also read it as the continuing expression of a minority or sidelined narrative in the post-independence history of the Caribbean – the Afro/French-Creole story. Political correctness, politically manipulated Afrocentrism and some of the worst aspects of globalization and (under) development have obscured or obliterated this narrative, which we must all be grateful to Besson for retrieving, in the interest of better understanding who we are now and how we got here."


Thursday, 2 August 2012

Roume's last moments


His breath came in small, rapid gasps. His once sweetly handsome face now decimated by pain. Sunken cheeks, his lips propped up from beneath by teeth grown large from the shrinking of their foundations. Wisps of consciousness floated in and out like cobweb gently blowing in a shaft of sunlight, sometimes visible, sometimes not. Anchoring memories that had not entirely lost their flavour. He tried not to let the phlegm rattle in his throat, as he knew that that would make her feel that he was going. He was going.
He braced himself, assuming in his mind a more dignified way of lying, and tilted up his chin, glancing along his cheek towards where his official uniform was thrown across the back of a chaise longue. Gold brocade, handsome with the dark blue twill, the hilt of his ceremonial sword bringing a regality to it. The emperor's golden eagle shimmered, his eyes were moist. He thought to raise his hand to wipe away a tear. He decided not to, as it would alarm her. The cobwebs of his mind floated upwards and shimmered in the sunlight of recollection.
He saw himself and her and the child boarding the frigate Isle de France, 84 guns, at the dock at Port-au-Prince. They had said good-bye to Toussaint, whom he knew was the only person capable of keeping Haiti for France, if treated well, with reason and intelligence. Before he left, he had written a letter to Napoleon, advising against an expedition. It was ignored.
It was aboard the Isle de France that the first signs of illness had occurred, had occurred to him. A wrenching pain, so sharp, so surprising in its intensity that it made him crouch and grab the gunwale for support as the ship settled in the bosom of a long Atlantic roller to rise up, her bow breaking free. His face was cold with sweat.
New York was behind them, France ahead. He had been 22 when he first went to France, a place strange, yet familiar. He loved it, cushioned it with inherited memories, bathed with day dreams, dreamt while lying on the white sand at Grand Anse, the sky just a shade lighter than the sea. St. George's, a medieval skyline in miniature. This land of his forefathers.
He was at home in Paris, his father's House on the Rue de la Concorde was modest. They used it in the way that people used townhouses when they really lived in the country or on islands. He was rich. They were well connected. He met a girl in an enchanted circle of gaiety, charm and Mozart. Her name was Francis Wilhelmine. She was the daughter of Sir John Lambert Bart. and his wife Anne Holmes. They married in 1765 and returned to Grenada to a house newly built on a knoll, overlooking great beauty in the parish of Grand Pauvre, where their daughter Elizabeth was born in 1766 and where other babies were born only to die, tiny things to be buried quickly beneath the huge eucalyptus trees, inaugurating the family's graveyard on the estate.
His wife and daughter travelled with him to Trinidad in 1777, after his father's death. His mother had remarried a dandy, a sailor with a lean on a title, just a few months older than he. His adventures into finance had produced reversals. He now adventured to the nearby Spanish island, hardly populated, rich in potential. He would become its colonist with the inauguration of a celebrated cedula. He would become so many things. His marriage to Francis Wilhelmine not so much failed as it withered. His mother thought her extravagant. He knew she was faithless. 22 years later, when she was living in Trinidad, by then a British colony, he cited in his divorce petition in Haiti her liaisons with "two retired lifeguardsmen among others...". By then, his politics had changed; gone was his royalist past. Now he was republican, soon to be imperialist.  "She openly professed the most extreme and anti-revolutionary principles. She only associates with the enemies of the French people...". Port of Spain, in spite of being British, was populated by many royalists and noble Frenchmen. 
The vision fled, as the opiate faded and the pain returned. He awoke before dawn. She had climbed into bed with him for the warmth. There was almost no money. His daughter died at age 20, in 1786, during his Tobago years when he had served with Arthur Dillon. He as Ordinateur, Count Dillon as governor. He reported directly to the Marechal de Castries. The Parisian street sounds rose up with the melting mists, shouts and whistles. Bells chiming, the thump of a broom on a carpet, the clatter and rattle of horse-drawn traffic. She stirred. He realised that the little one was between them, Rosette, named in memory of his mother, Rose de Gannes, the Marquise de Charras, the Chatelaine of Champs Elysées on the island of Trinidad. His own plantation at Diego Martin. His first wife's estate at Ariapita just west of the town. Such a long, long way away from home. What home? Home in Grenada? Home in Haiti? Home in Tobago? Home in Tobago. He dreamt he had closed his eyes. He saw her plainly, dressed in white, in someone else's clothes, in the style of the previous century. She appeared to be in costume. He had almost laughed out loud. Dillon's glance contained him. A long-legged quadroon, auburn hair, bright blue eyes, her skin the colour of dark honey, young, 16, high-breasted, big-bottomed, her toes splayed apart from walking barefooted all her young life, strode past them without a glance in the market at Port Louis, now called Scarborough.
He made inquiries. She had been born in Grenada, her name Marianne Elizabeth Rochard, the natural daughter of Thomas Daniel Rochard Lepine and of Genevieve Katronice. That night, he and Dillon in court dress paced the front gallery of Government House in anticipation of the arrival of the Marechal. He saw her passing through the garden in the company of a group of young girls, who were ogling the officers as they sat smoking or playing at whist in the gallery. A carriage turned into the drive, two young slaves with torches ran before it, the girls had run away. Not her. The brilliance illuminated her features, enflamed them, he noticed her slightly flaring nostrils, he thought them endearing.
The officers rose to attention. The governor descended to greet the Marechal. Their eyes remained locked as significant events started to unfold. They became lovers at that moment and remained so for the rest of their lives. A daughter was born to them in Scarborough on the 6th July, 1788. Many years later, while acting French agent and commissioner in Spanish Santo Domingo, in a ceremony in Port Republicain, now Port au Prince, in 1799, in the presence of Toussaint L'Ouverture, the Divisional General commanding forces in French St. Domingue, Louis Beauvais, Christophe Mornet and Paul L'Ouverture, he divorced Fanny Lambert and married Mlle. Rochard, legitimising their daughter. He was 56 and she 38.
The Spanish crown had granted a Cedula of Population, through his endeavour. This created modern Trinidad. The French crown had appointed him Ordinateur of Tobago, where he and Arthur Count Dillon had been so successful in carrying out the objectives set them by the French government. Under orders from Napoleon Bonaparte, he went to Haiti, then the most valuable colony in the world, providing about two thirds of the overseas trade of France, which had risen in revolt, overthrown its government and defeated the armies sent to subdue it. 
He was dispatched to exercise his talents with its leadership to win it back. He gained the friendship and the trust of the island's liberator, Toussaint L'Ouverture. He administered the Spanish half of the island, power passed between his hands, battles unrecorded were fought, won, lost, whatever.
Haiti was a genie that would never return to its bottle. General Leclerc, the emperor's brother-in-law, came with an army in 1803. This ended in complete defeat, Leclerc's death and final victory for the Blacks. Napoleon walked away from the western hemisphere. He even sold Louisiana to the newly made Republic of the United States. The great days of the French were over in the west. Roume's outstanding career was now over, too. The emperor had granted him a pension of 3,500 francs a year on 18 Germinal, an. XI (or 8th April, 1803). This ceased on his death that day in Paris, as he lay in the arms of Marianne; his daughter asleep beside them.
She had great difficulty in obtaining a pittance for herself and the child. She made several appeals to the Navy Ministry. At one point, Napoleon was reminded "Your majesty has refused this application because this woman is coloured". The note however continued "but she dies from hunger and a pension of 400 or 500 francs is recommended". Napoleon ordered that a pension of 600 francs a year be paid to her from the Naval Pensioners' Fund. He initialled the decree himself. Philippe Rose Roume de St. Laurent is hardly remembered by history.


Buy "Roume de St. Laurent – A Memoir" by clicking here:
Amazon
Barnes & Noble

Monday, 2 April 2012

The Fires of Liberty in the New World

Two very important anniversaries in the Americas are coming up: the 4th July is the Independence Day of the United States, and the 5th July that of Venezuela. Both those dates commemorate the end of revolutions, and the men who initiated and fought are today remembered as heroes and liberators. The Caribbean, in fact, has had many revolutionaries in the French, English and Spanish colonies. The upheavals acted as triggers for migration, and especially we in Trinidad have ancestors who came as the result of revolution in their previous homes. During the times of British colonialism, the heroes of other nations were all but forgotten. "One of the troubles with our system of education is that it ignores the region to which we belong. What does the school-boy in San Fernando know about Simon Bolivar? Or about Jose Marti? Or about Toussaint of Haiti?" said Prof. Dr. Philip Sherlock in a radio programme in 1964. Today, as an independent nation, we will blow away the thick layer of dust from the marble busts of the heroes, an have a look at who some of those revolutionaries really were.

The close of the 18th century was a pivotal period for the western hemisphere north and south. It was a time of war, where England  fought its old enemy France, who in turn supported the colonists in North America who were struggling for independence. Spain, who was now out of the race for European dominance of the New World, fought to keep her colonies in South America; colonies she could hardly now afford to maintain.  

The colonies in both North and South America overthrew the monarchies—the House of Hanover, England's ruling dynasty, in the North, and Spain's House of Bourbon in the South—and went on to write for themselves republican constitutions. 

The war of American Independence came to an end in 1781 with the surrender of General Cornwallis, the commander of English troops in the American colonies. Great Britain recognised the government of the United States of America as independent. Slavery was made illegal in the state of Massachusetts on the ground that the words in the constitution of 1780 were "All men are born free and equal", which was a nullification of slavery. Maryland followed and also outlawed the slave trade.  

George Washington was born in Bridges creek, Virginia, in 1732. His great-grandfather was first mentioned in Virginia about 70 years earlier, where he acquired wealth and public standing. George's father Augustine died while George was still a little boy. George was a healthy boy, and in 1747, he went to Mount Vernon, the residence of his eldest half-brother Lawrence, who had inherited most of the estate. In 1748, George gained employment with the Fairfaxes, the family of Lawrence's wife, as a surveyor of the Fairfax property. During his employment, George learnt to hunt, to use arms and became interested in the strategies of warfare. In 1751, George came to the Caribbean, to Barbados to be precise, to accompany his half-brother in the last months of his life; he died the following year of consumption. George inherited the estate and became guardian of his niece. 

In 1755, Washington became involved in warfare for the first time, when the English colonies of America sent an expedition against the French colonies of that continent. Four years later, he married a rich young widow, and upon the death of his niece he became one of the richest men in America.

The British colonies in America became involved in a five-year quarrel with Britain in 1765. Washington first had the viewpoint of peaceful measures and negotion, but soon changed his view in that he favoured force to defend his countrymen's rights. He took a leading part in the political arena, and being neither an orator nor a writer, he excelled in common sense and management of affairs. Becoming commander-in-chief,  he led the first American contingent against the British in Boston in 1775.  

In the following six years, the Americans waged a war for independence against the British. In close alliance with the French from 1778 onwards, the war was eventually won in 1781, and George Washington resigned his commission as commander in chief of the American army, having accomplished his great work of defeating the British forces. In 1793 he laid the cornerstone of the Capitol in Washington in a masonic ritual in which he presided as master.  

In the war for the independence of the British colonies in North America, several thousand Africans had fought on both sides. Slaves gained their freedom for serving the Union under General George Washington. Some black regiments came from as far away as Haiti.

"The aim of the Franco-American alliance was to evict the British from Savannah, Georgia," remarks Smithsonian Museum their publication "The Black Presence in the Era of the American Revolution". They continue: "In early September [of 1779], a French fleet of thirty-three sail, under the command of the Comte d'Estaing, anchored off the Georgia cost and discharged its troops. As reported in the Paris Gazette, there were 2,979 'Europeans' and 545 'Coloureds': 'Volunteer Chasseurs, Mulattoes, and Negroes, newly raised at St. Domingo,' the latter called the Fontages Legion after its French commander. 

"Among the coloured volunteers in the American cause were young men destined to become famous in the Haitian revolution—among them were André Rigaud and Luis Jacques Beauvais, non-commissioned officers at Savannah; Martial Besse, a general under the Versailles Convention; Jean Baptisete Mars Belley, deputy to the convention; and Henri Christophe, future king." 

French revolutionary thinkers, such as the Marquis de Lafayette, influenced the framers of both the American and Haitian constitutions. As a result, Haitian patriots supported Washington's war for independence.

Among many Haitians who came to Trinidad and Tobago were also the descendants of General Alexander Dumas, another hero of the Haitian revolution. Today, the family of Reginald Dumas, former head of the Public Service, still live in our country. 

Africans fought also for England, as witnessed by the Company Villages in south Trinidad. Soldiers of these Black detatchments in the British army were transported to Trinidad and given land and freedom. 

In Trinidad, 1783 was a pivotal year. It saw the promulgation of the Cedula of Population, a document issued from the Spanish Royal Court at Madrid that was of special importance to our island. It established an immigration policy to Trinidad, and defined the creation of modern Trinidad as distinct from the old, Spanish times. It opened the doors to significant agricultural development. Even after the abolition of slavery here in 1838, this agricultural foundation went on to make this island one of the wealthiest territories in these parts. The cedula also served to create one of the most racially diversified places in the world through its terms. The whole agreement was the work of a significant man, Philippe Rose Roume de St. Laurent, who had been born in the island of Grenada. Roume de St. Laurnet later served the French government as 'ordinateur' (judge) in Tobago. He represented Napoleon Bonaparte as one of the commissioners of Haiti. When he married Marianne Rochard, a coloured woman from Tobago, in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Toussaint L'Ouverture and his brother were their witnesses.



Simon Bolivar

1783 was also the year that Simon Bolivar, the great liberator of South America, was born in Caracas. For more than 200 years, this city had been one of the great centres of Spanish imperial power in South America. Ever since de Losada had founded it in 1567, Caracas had grown in size, power and influence. 

The Bolivars were one of the great families of Caracas. In their veins ran the blood of Africa, of the Iberian peninsula, and of the natives of the Andes. They owned large estates of sugar cane which were worked by slave labour, as well as silver mines that produced tremendous wealth. Simon's grandfather had been granted a colonial title of nobility by the Spanish court. 

Orphaned before his fifteenth birthday, Simon Bolivar's maternal grandfather, Feliciano Palacios, took him in his care and arranged for him to have the best possible education in Venezuela and in Spain. Amongst his tutors were Simon Rodriguez and Andres Bello. Simon distinguished himself during the years of his education in Spain with his academic accomplishments. There, at the age of 18, he fell in love with Teresa del Toro, who was a year younger. The families insisted on a year's delay of marriage. At the end of the year, Bolivar married Teresa and took his wife back to one of the family's plantations in the valley of Aragua, near Caracas. Not long after, Teresa died of a malignant fever, and the heartbroken Simon swore never to remarry. He kept his oath, however, he always enjoyed the company of women and admitted that the inspiration he gained from them was a necessity to him.

Single, young Bolivar returned to Europe. He was the guest of the Marquis de Uztaiz, who gave him access to one of the greatest private libraries of Spain, famous for its collections on the physical sciences, history, philosophy and politics. It was during this period at Cadiz that Simon met Francisco de Miranda.  

Miranda was a remarkable person. He was the type of intellectual that revolution turns into a military leader, and he became the precursor of Venezuela's fight for independence. Born in Caracas, Francisco's education was immense. He had devoted many years to the study of politics. Simon Bolivar was greatly influenced by the older man's grasp of culture and history, and of the philosophy of the "rights of man". Bolivar became a member of Lodge Lautro in Cadiz in 1803, together with two other great South American patriots, José de San Martin, later the liberator of Argentina, and Bernardo O'Higgins, later the national hero of Chile. 

Argentine soldier and statesman, national hero of Argentina, José de San Martin was born in Yapeyu in 1778. Played a great part in winning independence for his native land, Chile and Peru. Officer in the Spanish army (1789-1812), but helped Buenos Aires in its struggle for independence (1812-1814). Raised army in Argentina, and in January 1817 marched across the Andes to Chile, where he and Bernardo O'Higgins defeated the Spanish at Chacabuco and Maipo, thus winning independence for Chile. Subsequently, he won independence for Peru and became this country's protector. He resigned in 1822 after differences with Bolivar and died in exile in Boulogne in 1850.

Bernardo O'Higgins, the Chilean revolutionary, born in Chillán in 1778, illegitimate son of Ambrosio O'Higgins, the Irish-born viceroy of Chile and Peru. Played a great part in the Chilean revolt of 1810-1817, and became known as the 'Liberator of Chile'. In 1817-1823 he was the new republic's first president, but was deposed after a revolution and retired to Peru, where he died in 1842. 

This was a time when words like "liberty" and "equality" were powerful concepts. The term "rights of man" can be understood only against the background of a Europe dominated by autocratic monarchs, supported by aristocracies that excluded vast majorities of the population. The furnace of the French Revolution had branded those ideas upon the consciousness of a generation. The revolution in France was followe by the era of Napoleon Bonaparte, and there was a growing interest in science and the roots of another revolution, the Industrial Revolution.  

In Paris, Simon Bolivar met the great German scientist and explorer Alexander von Humboldt, who knew South America well. Bolivar told him his feelings of the dignity of life in his homeland, and to this von Humboldt replied: "I believe that your country is ripe for emancipation. But who will be the man to undertake so vast an enterprise?" 

Bolivar traveled to Rome in the company of his former tutor Simon Rodriguez. There, one golden afternoon, they climbed to the top of the Aventin Hill, where more than 2000 years before the ancient Romans had been accustomed to reaffirm their right for freedom.

Simon Bolivar gazed long at the monuments and the ruins of classical buildings spread before him. Then, all of a sudden, he turned to Rodriguez and said:"I swear before you, I swear by the God of my fathers, by my fore-fathers themselves, by my honour and my country, that I shall never allow my hands to be idle or my soul to rest until I have broken the shackles which bind us to Spain."

Thus, great decisions are made, and this one was to be the turning point for South American affairs. Sometimes, a person would move to the moment of decision so gradually that at first, there is no sign of change or of the turn in his or her life. But to others, it is a bolt from the blue, a moment of revelation, such as happened to Paul on the Damascus Road. 

Not long after his stay in Rome, upon his return to Caracas, Bolivar met with a group known as the Patriotic Society. They were in disorder and had no idea how to go forward. Bolivar forced the issues, cried out to them: "These doubts are the sad effects of our ancient chains. Chains we no longer need to wear. They say that we should prepare for great projects with calm - are not 300 years of calm sufficient? Without fear, let us lay the cornerstone of South American independence."

Events moved swiftly. Bolivar, Andres Bello and others went to London in search of British help. They also persuaded Francisco de Miranda to return and lead the armies of Liberation. It was his second attempt to break the shackles that bound the southern continent to Spain. 

But the general, who had once commanded an army on the Rhine, was now too old - he could not adapt himself to guerrilla warfare, bungled the campaign and accepted terms from the Spanish. Bolivar arrested him. The rot, however, had set in. 

The revolution was smashed, the leaders arrested. Miranda was sent to Spain in chains. Bolivar escaped to Curaçao and eventually to Haiti, where Toussaint L'Ouverture offered asylum. All his property and estates in Venezuela were confiscated. Notwithstanding, he kept his courage and his flaming faith in the cause of liberation.

When Bolivar returned to Venezuela, the tide was turned from the neighbouring island of Trinidad. From there, a small band of men, remembered as the "Immortal 45", crossed the Gulf of Paria under the command of a young man by the name of Santiago Moreño. They took the coastal towns, drawing thousands to their cause.  

Bolivar's famous Cartagena manifesto demonstrated the importance for all American States to work together for independence. The second phase of the revolution was now underway. Final victory was yet a long way away., however. 

Simon Bolivar kept the course and held before him the lesson "Let no motive therefore make you swerve from your duty, violate your vows or betray your trust." 

 "United we are strong" is a concept as old as humanity. In the history of nations, it manifests itself in the form of federations. Simon Bolivar had a dream of a federation of South American states, with his home country, Venezuela, being part of that. Partly liberator and elected president, partly dictator, Bolivar succeeded in joining Venezuela, Colombia and New Granada into a republic called Colombia. In 1822, Ecuador was joined, and in 1824 Peru. Upper Peru was named Bolivia in his honour, however, the inhabitants of that state were not at all satisfied with Bolivar's consitution and drove out his troops. In 1828, also the republicans in Colombia rebelled against Bolivar's supreme power, and in 1829, Venezuela split from the federation and elected José Antonio Páez as president. A year later, Bolivar died, leaving behind a shattered federation, but a dream of federation very much alive in the former Spanish colonies of South America. 

Páez' power collapsed in the 1840s, when liberal ideas became stronger. From 1846 to 1858, control of the country was in the hands of José Tadeo Monagas and his brother José Gregorio. They were not liberal, and apart from the abolition of slavery in 1854, nothing much was achieved for the people.

After the collapse of the Monagas regime, chaos and turmoil struck Venezuela for twelve years. Páez tried to once more restore order in the early 1860s, but failed. The turmoil ended with Antonio Guzmán Blanco assuming power in 1870 and assuming dictatorial rule until 1888.  

A quantity of Venezuelan families from both Caracas and the coastal towns came to Trinida in the period of the dictators. Others merely renewed older links with the island. French creole families, such as the Ganteaumes and the Pantins, and German creoles such as Wuppermann and Siegert, married into Caracanian families, such as Machado and de Tova. 

Guzmán, like the other dictators, did not achieve any alleviation in the mass poverty of Venezuela. He rebuilt Caracas, but the rural masses remained in their hovels. After his regime ended, the country again fell into chaos, until stability was re-gained at the terrible price of oppression and brutality. Cipriano Castro ruled from 1899 to 1908, followed by Juan Vicente Gómez from 1908 until 1935.

 "Bolivar's dreams of liberty and freedom proved illusory," writes Esmond Wright (ed.) in "History of the World". Dr. Philip Sherlock adds in a lecture on Radio Guardian, 1964: "Bolivar had been successful in the war because he had the support of the great conservative families. They were hostile to Spain. But when Spain was defeated, all hte old vested interests began to assert their power and take charge. It was the old landed estate, the latifundia, against any form of democratic rule. Bolivar dreamed of a great federation of the South American continent, that would be the counterpart of the United States. The nine years between 1821 and 1830 found Bolivar struggling to defeat the parochialism and selfishness of the landed proprietors. The struggle brought frustration and defeat."


Buy "From the Gates of Aksum" (Kindle or Softcover) by clicking here:

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

Emancipation Day


An Eyewitness’ Account of Emancipation Day
1st August, 1834

given by Lieutenant Colonel Capadose, a British Army Official, while stationed in Trinidad.
Published by Capadose in 1845 in the book ‘Sixteen Years in the West Indies’

“I was present, with the late Colonel Hardy, at the Government House (or Office) at Port of Spain, Trinidad, on the memorable 1st August, 1834, when, as the first step to freedom, the quondam slaves of all British Dominions, were denominated apprentices - the Governor and Council were all assembled to listen to a representation, or rather an interrogatory, of a number of negroes, regarding their supposed, unlimited, emancipation - these people appeared to be a deputation from a few French Eststes; and were for the most part very old men, old women, and children, the only young man among them was their spokesman, who was probably selected, because he spoke the French language well - it was he who addressed the Governor, with the question, whether the King had not granted them (that is all slaves) unqualified liberty, from that date? That they understood so, and yet their managers and overseers insisted on their working, as ususal, that Morning on the estates.
I must here explain that French gentlemen, managers and overseers, accompanied these negroes to the Government House, H.E., the Governor, Sir George Hill, followed by the Members of Council, the Judges and other official Gentlemen, had repaired to the balcony of the Council chamber to enquire into the cause of such an assmblage as then filled the Court Yard, below the building. In anwer to the above question, be mildly observed that His Majesty had indeed been most graciously pleased to grant them Freedom, that they were consequently no longer slaves, bu free British subjects from that day forth - yet, His Majesty had decreed that they were still to reside on the estate and serve, under certain enactments for their benefit, as before; in capacity of apprentices during six years, after which they would, in 1840, be free to go wherever they pleased - scarcely had His Excellency pronounced “Six years,” than the negroes, old women and men, vociferated “pas de six ans, point de six ans” (not six years, no six years) - hardly would they allow His Excellency to be heard in conclusion, so loud did they repeat “pas de six ans.” etc.
The Governor however continued speaking to them, in their own language, with the greates affability, and concluded by exhorting them, to return quitly home, like good foks, and resume their avocations under employers who, doubtless would treta them kindly, and indeed the new laws ensured them good tetamnet; they nevertheless stood immoveable, and would not retire; the Governor then left the baalcony, and lest he might not have been properly understood by the multitude below, he directed one of the Secretaries, or Government Officers, present, to take his place, and explain more fully what he had said, which was done, but with no better success, the same vociferations being repeated at the words “six years” “pas de six ans!” etc.
At this time two gentlemen entered the council chamber, military officers, Captain Hay, and Captain Mackenzie, just arrivced from England, on appointment, as Special Magistrates, to see the act for the apprenticeship carried into effect. One of these magistrates was accordingly directed by His Excellency to replace the previous speaker, at the balcony, and explain to the infatuated people below, their error; which the magistrate did in the most clear and intelligible manner; read, and explained to them, the printed act, that he held in his hand; exhorted them to wirhdraw peaceably and without delay, or it would become his painful duty to use compultsion; but no, the foolish people were deaf to his remonstrances and ever and anon vociferated “Pas de six ans, nous ne voulons pas de six ans, nous sommes libres, le Roi nous a donné la liberte!” “No six years, we do not want six years, we are free, the King has given us liberty!” at different pauses, or cessation of noise, the young spokesman represented in good French, and with eloquent and respectful tone, that they had toiled all their lives, had enriched their masters by the sweat of their brow, that the King was surely too good to exact of them six years more of servitude, that their masters might take advantage, so as to work them, during that period, to death, or so immoderately, that they could not live long after service - at this, the magistrate assured them that he and his colleagues would take expecial care to prevent such abuse, that the act provided for so many hours moderate labour per day, and such and such allowance of food etc., and that it would be impossible for anyone to ill-treat them - again he most earneslty exhorted them to withdraw, but in vain, they would not - torrents of rain fell, but had apparently no effect on those people, they remained immoveable, vociferating “Pas de six ans” etc. - the Members of Council, and some other gentlemen present, then lost all patience, and forcibly advised the Governor to declare Martial Law - the Militia was under arms in various parts of the town, and artillery drawn out at different points, an insurrection being apprehended, though no symptom of it appeared beyond the pobsinancy of foolish old people in the government courtyard, headed by a single young man, and none of them had even a stick in their hands - nevertheless gentlemen (civilians) about the Governor, were vehement in their demands for Martial Law - His Excellency appeared perplexed, and at length requested the opinion of Colonel Hardy, who had till then remained a tranquil spectator but on being asked whether he deemed it advisable to declare Martial Law, he replied, decidedly not.
“Martial Law!” exclaimed he, “against whom? - I see only old men, women, and children, poor ignorant people, who come to ask a question, and know no better -” or words to that effect. The chief Judge, and to the best of my recollection, the Attorney General, also, coincided in opinion with the Colonel, that there wa necessity for Martial Law, that the police could disperse the obstinate people.
It is to be remarked, that had Martial Law been proclaimed, Colonel Hardy would have been invested with the chief command, would have commanded the Militia, together with the regular force throughout the colony, whilst the Governor’s authority, in a great measure, if not entirely, would have been suspended - yet it was generally believed that had the Colonel advised it, Martial Law would certainly habe been declared in Trinidad. Towards the close of the evening, that is about sunset, the police were called in to act, and by persuasion more than force, caused the obstinate apprentices to ritre; soon after which, Colonel Hardy took me with him, in his gig, to St. James Barracks, on our way we saw bodies of militia, cannon planted at the entry of the streets, with militia artillery-men and lighted matches, as if prepared for a fierce encounter; and as the gig rolled on, a number of girls danced about in the streets, singing French arriettes of, probably, their own composition on the goodness of King William in ganting them freedom - whcih Colonal Hardy observed “looked mightily like insurrection.”
The two or three succeeding days more negroes flocked to town and would not return to their masters, so that the magistrates were compelled to exert the power vested in them, and make some examples by having corporal punishment inflicted on a few of the strong and regractory men, which had the desired effect, and the apprentices returned to the Estates and re-commenced work.
At Naparima the apprentices on some Estates were still more refractory, and several examples were made, which restored order, and all proceeded quitely afterwards.
For about a week to ten days after Aug. 1st, 1834, the inhabitants (many of them) were very apprehensive of insurrection and revolt; the French were the most alarmed. A lady, who had been driven from St. Domingo at the early part of teh French Revolution, told me that the troubles in that Island, commenced by deputations of old persons coming forward in the first instance; and, that consequently, when she heard of the assemblage before the Government House, she dreaded lest similar horrors to those formely perpetrated at St. Domingo were on the eve of being committed in Trinidad.”


Buy "The Book of Trinidad" by clicking here:








Buy "A Rada Community in Trinidad" by clicking here:













Thursday, 20 December 2007

Roume's Last Moments

A fictionalised version of the death of Roume de St. Laurent, containing factual elements of his life.

His breath came in small, rapid gasps. His once sweetly handsome face now decimated by pain. Sunken cheeks, his lips propped up from beneath by teeth grown large from the shrinking of their foundations. Wisps of consciousness floated in and out like cobweb gently blowing in a shaft of sunlight, sometimes visible, sometimes not. Anchoring memories that had not entirely lost their flavour. He tried not to let the phlegm rattle in his throat, as he knew that that would make her feel that he was going. He was going. He braced himself, assuming in his mind a more dignified way of lying, and tilted up his chin, glancing along his cheek towards where his official uniform was thrown across the back of a chaise longue. Gold brocade, handsome with the dark blue twill, the hilt of his ceremonial sword bringing a regality to it. The emperor's golden eagle shimmered, his eyes were moist. He thought to raise his hand to wipe away a tear. He decided not to, as it would alarm her. The cobwebs of his mind floated upwards and shimmered in the sunlight of recollection.

He saw himself and her and the child boarding the frigate Isle de France, 84 guns, at the dock at Port-au-Prince. They had said good-bye to Toussaint, whom he knew was the only person capable of keeping Haiti for France, if treated well, with reason and intelligence. Before he left, he had written a letter to Napoleon, advising against an expedition. It was ignored.

It was aboard the Isle de France that the first signs of illness had occurred, had occurred to him. A wrenching pain, so sharp, so surprising in its intensity that it made him crouch and grab the gunwale for support as the ship settled in the bosom of a long Atlantic roller to rise up, her bow breaking free. His face was cold with sweat. New York was behind them, France ahead. He had been 22 when he first went to France, a place strange, yet familiar. He loved it, cushioned it with inherited memories, bathed with day dreams, dreamt while lying on the white sand at Grand Anse, the sky just a shade lighter than the sea. St. George's, a medieval skyline in miniature. This land of his forefathers. He was at home in Paris, his father's House on the Rue de la Concorde was modest. They used it in the way that people used townhouses when they really lived in the country or on islands. He was rich. They were well connected. He met a girl in an enchanted circle of gaiety, charm and Mozart. Her name was Francis Wilhelmine. She was the daughter of Sir John Lambert Bart. and his wife Anne Holmes. They married in 1765 and returned to Grenada to a house newly built on a knoll, overlooking great beauty in the parish of Grand Pauvre, where their daughter Elizabeth was born in 1766 and where other babies were born only to die, tiny things to be buried quickly beneath the huge eucalyptus trees, inaugurating the family's graveyard on the estate.

His wife and daughter travelled with him to Trinidad in 1777, after his father's death. His mother had remarried a dandy, a sailor with a lean on a title, just a few months older than he. His adventures into finance had produced reversals. He now adventured to the nearby Spanish island, hardly populated, rich in potential. He would become its colonist with the inauguration of a celebrated cedula. He would become so many things. His marriage to Francis Wilhelmine not so much failed as it withered. His mother thought her extravagant. He knew she was faithless. 22 years later, when she was living in Trinidad, by then a British colony, he cited in his divorce petition in Haiti her liaisons with "two retired lifeguardsmen among others...". By then, his politics had changed; gone was his royalist past. Now he was republican, soon to be imperialist. "She openly professed the most extreme and anti-revolutionary principles. She only associates with the enemies of the French people...". Port of Spain, in spite of being British, was populated by many royalists and noble Frenchmen.

The vision fled, as the opiate faded and the pain returned. He awoke before dawn. She had climbed into bed with him for the warmth. There was almost no money. His daughter died at age 20, in 1786, during his Tobago years when he had served with Arthur Dillon. He as Ordinateur, Count Dillon as governor. He reported directly to the Marechal de Castries. The Parisian street sounds rose up with the melting mists, shouts and whistles. Bells chiming, the thump of a broom on a carpet, the clatter and rattle of horse-drawn traffic. She stirred. He realised that the little one was between them, Rosette, named in memory of his mother, Rose de Gannes, the Marquise de Charras, the Chatelaine of Champs Elysées on the island of Trinidad. His own plantation at Diego Martin. His first wife's estate at Ariapita just west of the town. Such a long, long way away from home. What home? Home in Grenada? Home in Haiti? Home in Tobago? Home in Tobago. He dreamt he had closed his eyes. He saw her plainly, dressed in white, in someone else's clothes, in the style of the previous century. She appeared to be in costume. He had almost laughed out loud. Dillon's glance contained him. A long-legged quadroon, auburn hair, bright blue eyes, her skin the colour of dark honey, young, 16, high-breasted, big-bottomed, her toes splayed apart from walking barefooted all her young life, strode past them without a glance in the market at Port Louis, now called Scarborough.

He made inquiries. She had been born in Grenada, her name Marianne Elizabeth Rochard, the natural daughter of Thomas Daniel Rochard Lepine and of Genevieve Katronice. That night, he and Dillon in court dress paced the front gallery of Government House in anticipation of the arrival of the Marechal. He saw her passing through the garden in the company of a group of young girls, who were ogling the officers as they sat smoking or playing at whist in the gallery. A carriage turned into the drive, two young slaves with torches ran before it, the girls had run away. Not her. The brilliance illuminated her features, enflamed them, he noticed her slightly flaring nostrils, he thought them endearing.

The officers rose to attention. The governor descended to greet the Marechal. Their eyes remained locked as significant events started to unfold. They became lovers at that moment and remained so for the rest of their lives. A daughter was born to them in Scarborough on the 6th July, 1788. Many years later, while acting French agent and commissioner in Spanish Santo Domingo, in a ceremony in Port Republicain, now Port au Prince, in 1799, in the presence of Toussaint L'Ouverture, the Divisional General commanding forces in French St. Domingue, Louis Beauvais, Christophe Mornet and Paul L'Ouverture, he divorced Fanny Lambert and married Mlle. Rochard, legitimising their daughter. He was 56 and she 38.

The Spanish crown had granted a Cedula of Population, through his endeavour. This created modern Trinidad. The French crown had appointed him Ordinateur of Tobago, where he and Arthur Count Dillon had been so successful in carrying out the objectives set them by the French government. Under orders from Napoleon Bonaparte, he went to Haiti, then the most valuable colony in the world, providing about two thirds of the overseas trade of France, which had risen in revolt, overthrown its government and defeated the armies sent to subdue it.

He was dispatched to exercise his talents with its leadership to win it back. He gained the friendship and the trust of the island's liberator, Toussaint L'Ouverture. He administered the Spanish half of the island, power passed between his hands, battles unrecorded were fought, won, lost, whatever.

Haiti was a genie that would never return to its bottle. General Leclerc, the emperor's brother-in-law, came with an army in 1803. This ended in complete defeat, Leclerc's death and final victory for the Blacks. Napoleon walked away from the western hemisphere. He even sold Louisiana to the newly made Republic of the United States. The great days of the French were over in the west. Roume's outstanding career was now over, too. The emperor had granted him a pension of 3,500 francs a year on 18 Germinal, an. XI (or 8th April, 1803). This ceased on his death that day in Paris, as he lay in the arms of Marianne; his daughter asleep beside them.

She had great difficulty in obtaining a pittance for herself and the child. She made several appeals to the Navy Ministry. At one point, Napoleon was reminded "Your majesty has refused this application because this woman is coloured". The note however continued "but she dies from hunger and a pension of 400 or 500 francs is recommended". Napoleon ordered that a pension of 600 francs a year be paid to her from the Naval Pensioners' Fund. He initialled the decree himself. Philippe Rose Roume de St. Laurent is hardly remembered by history.