slaves was eventually adopted by everyone on the is-
land, and in turn helped to “aggravate the tensions between whites.” In this
way, slaves’ interpretations of the fissures in their masters’ society provided categories that deepened them, laying kindling that would help set the
colony alight.58
s p e c t e r s o f s a i n t - d o m i n g u e
35
c h a p t e r t w o
Fermentation
Yourmisfortuneisthatiamblack,”wrotetheslave
Philipeau to his owner, Madame de Mauger, in 1784. “I am black;
that is my only fault. If I could whiten myself you would see, with
the will of God, an increase in your wealth.” Philipeau lived on a plantation located in the rich Artibonite plain of Saint-Domingue. He had been born
there, and had served as Madame de Mauger’s domestic slave until the
1760s, when she and her husband left to settle permanently in France. By
the next decade Philipeau had become the commandeur —slave driver—
on the plantation. He was its most important slave: he oversaw the daily
work in the fields, made sure the other slaves were fed and taken care
of, and punished those who failed in their duties. He took his orders not
directly from Madame de Mauger, but from the salaried manager she
had hired to oversee her properties in the colony. Under pressure to de-
liver profits to their distant bosses, and eager to gain a foothold in the
colony through the commissions they received on plantation production,
such managers were often brutal to the slaves, stinting their food and med-
icine, forcing them to work on Sundays, and punishing them with great
violence.1
This, Philipeau warned Madame de Mauger, was what was happening
on her plantation. “Your manager is killing your negroes,” he announced.
“He is working them too hard.” Four had run away, including one old man
named Lamour who had always been a faithful worker, and who left be-
hind his four children. The manager, furthermore, was making the slaves
work on his own crops, for his own profit, taking them away from the work
of the plantation. Philipeau pleaded with Mauger to believe him: “I speak
to you as if I were explaining myself in front of God.” He also pleaded with
her to keep his letter a secret. If the manager of the plantation found out
that he had written to her, he would be “mistreated.” He signed the letter
“your very humble and obedient slave.” Madame de Mauger did not re-
spond to his entreaties.2
Philipeau’s letters highlight the paradoxes of life on the plantations of
absentee owners. Although such plantations were not the majority—in
the north, where they were most numerous, slightly less than half of those
producing processed sugar were owned by absentees—they were among
the largest and wealthiest. Absentee owners generally had a procureur
in the colony to whom they had given their power of attorney to oversee
their plantations, and who hired the gérants, or managers. The procureurs rarely visited the plantations, leaving the managers with enormous autonomy, which many exploited. One planter opined that of 100 plantations be-
ing run by managers, 95 were in ruins, while their managers had grown
rich. Managers could steal plantation commodities, use the slaves for their
own profit, and often get away with it. Slaves sometimes protested, as did
Philipeau, and one group of slaves on a sugar plantation in the south de-
clared in creole to an official: “We know we have to work for our master on
his plantation, but we don’t have to work on our manager’s plantation.” But
it took courage to complain, for masters were all too likely to take the word of a manager over that of a slave, and a manager who discovered such complaints had little to restrain him from inflicting brutal punishment. Slaves
on larger plantations also had to contend with économes (overseers) hired by managers or plantation owners to monitor the slaves in the fields and
track their sicknesses,
Mercy Cortez
Sean McGlynn
Nicholas Denmon
Jaxson Kidman
Scarlett Ward
James Lee Burke
Matthew Cousineau
Grant Sutherland
Morgan Rhodes
authors_sort