Claiborne

Author(s):  
Jason Berry

In the 1790s, as planters sold off land for faubourgs, or neighborhoods, New Orleans branched out. One such neighborhood was founded by Claude Tremé. Antonio de Sedella clashed with the vicar Rev. Patrick Walsh and his replacement Rev. John Olivier. Sedella became the elected pastor of St. Louis Cathedral, leading the one institution where people voluntarily gathered across the color line. Governor William C.C. Claiborne, a lawyer-turned-politician, governed a divided city. Conflicts arose between the French and American cultures, the black militia and white elite, and between Claiborne himself and his opponents. Faced with an influx of Haitian refugees, including whites, free people of color, and slaves, Claiborne faced the challenge of providing for the refugees deemed free while establishing the status of those the refugees considered as slaves. Many refugees who were legally free in Haiti became slaves in New Orleans. A slave revolt, with an estimated 500 rebels, broke out in 1811. Claiborne sent the local militia to put down the insurrection. Close to 100 of the rebels were killed. Advocates for statehood argued that Louisiana should join the U.S., and by admitting Louisiana in 1812, the U.S. cemented itself to a slave economy.

2021 ◽  
pp. 46-56
Author(s):  
Laura Arnold Leibman

The years following Sarah and Isaac’s conversion were ones of great change on the island, rife with controversies and rebellion. On the one hand the Brandon-Lopez-Gill clan was prospering, with both Brandon cousins and Lopez-Gill uncles making important marriages. Yet the synagogue was in disarray, with interracial sex often at the center of controversies. While unmarried Jewish men like Sarah and Isaac’s father suffered no penalties for extramarital affairs, married Jews and religious leaders found themselves repeatedly sanctioned by the synagogue, their intimate affairs laid open. Racial tensions on the island reached a peak in 1816 when a slave revolt broke out near the southern coast. In the years following the revolt, free people of color would seek compensation for their support in suppressing the insurrection. Petitions and religion, rather than open rebellion, became the new path to power.


2021 ◽  
Vol 71 (1) ◽  
pp. 41-60
Author(s):  
Juliane Braun

Scholars who have studied the contested meaning of “creole” in Louisiana have typically maintained that the “Creole myth,” that is the strategic redefinition of the term “creole” to refer to the white descendants of Louisiana’s original French and Spanish settlers, emerged during or shortly after the Civil War. Drawing on a newspaper article and two case studies related to the New Orleans theatre, this essay proposes a new periodization for the emergence of the “Creole myth” and a re-evaluation of the cultural and political work it was doing. I want to suggest that conceiving of the Creole myth as an antebellum phenomenon (rather than examining it in the context of the postbellum era) allows us to see that its creation was not just motivated by French Louisianian concerns about cultural integrity and ethnic survival but also by this population’s anxiety about race and the status and mobility of free people of color. As a rhetorical tool that gained traction in the 1830s, the strategic redefinition of “creole” to exclude all people of African descent operated in tandem with other attempts to curtail the rights of free people of color, preventing their social, economic, and political ascent during the antebellum period. Ceux qui ont étudié le sens contesté du terme « créole » en Louisiane ont typiquement maintenu que le « mythe créole », c’est-à-dire, la redéfinition stratégique du terme « créole » à ne comprendre que les descendants blancs des colons d’origine française ou espagnole est apparu pendant ou peu après la guerre de Sécession. S’appuyant sur un article de journal et sur deux études de cas du théâtre à la Nouvelle-Orléans, cet article propose une nouvelle périodisation de l’émergence du « mythe créole » ainsi qu’une réévaluation du travail politique et culturelle qu’il exerçait. Je veux suggérer qu’en concevant le mythe créole comme phénomène d’avant la guerre de Sécession (plutôt que de l’examiner dans le contexte de l’après-guerre), nous comprenons que sa création a été motivé non seulement par des préoccupations d’intégrité culturelle et de survie ethnique de la part des Franco-louisianais, mais aussi par leur anxiété raciale par rapport à la mobilité des gens de couleur libres. Comme outil rhétorique qui a gagné du terrain dans les années 1830, la redéfinition stratégique de « créole » afin d’exclure tous ceux d’ascendance africaine fonctionnait en combinaison avec d’autres tentatives à restreindre les droits des gens de couleur libres, empêchant leur ascension sociale, économique et politique pendant l’ère d’avant la guerre de Sécession.


2021 ◽  
Vol 44 (3) ◽  
pp. 399-427
Author(s):  
Manuel Covo

Abstract Histories of the French Revolution usually locate the origins of the “one and indivisible Republic” in a strictly metropolitan context. In contrast, this article argues that the French Revolution's debates surrounding federation, federalism, and the (re)foundation of the French nation-state were interwoven with colonial and transimperial matters. Between 1776 and 1792 federalism in a French imperial context went from an element of an academic conversation among bureaucrats and economists to a matter of violent struggle in Saint-Domingue that generated new agendas in the metropole. Going beyond the binary language of union and secession, the article examines the contest over federation and federalism in Saint-Domingue between free people of color and white planters who, taking inspiration from both metropolitan and non-French experiences with federalism, sought to alter the colony's relationship with the metropole while also maintaining the institution of slavery. Revolutionaries on both sides of the Atlantic, unsure which direction to take and without the benefit of hindsight, used the language of federalism to pursue rival interests despite a seemingly common vocabulary. This entangled history of conflicts, compromises, and misunderstandings blurred ideological delineations but decisively shaped the genesis of the French imperial republic. Généralement, les histoires de la Révolution française placent les origines de la « République une et indivisible » dans un contexte strictement métropolitain. Cet article soutient en revanche que les débats de la Révolution française sur la fédération, le fédéralisme et la (re)-fondation de l'Etat-nation français étaient liés à des questions coloniales et transimpériales. Dans le contexte impérial français, entre 1776 et 1792, le fédéralisme ne fut plus seulement un objet de débats académiques entre bureaucrates et économistes, mais devint un élément central dans une lutte violente à Saint-Domingue qui contribua à infléchir les choix politiques faits en métropole. Au-delà du langage binaire de l'union et de la sécession, l'article examine les conflits cristallisés par les notions de fédération et de fédéralisme entre des libres de couleur et des planteurs blancs qui, s'inspirant d'expériences fédéralistes métropolitaines et étrangères, cherchèrent à modifier la relation de la colonie avec la métropole tout en maintenant l'institution esclavagiste. Des deux côtés de l'Atlantique, les révolutionnaires, qui ne savaient quelle direction emprunter, employèrent le langage du fédéralisme pour défendre des intérêts contradictoires malgré l'usage d'un vocabulaire apparemment commun. Cette histoire faite de conflits, de compromis et de malentendus contribua à brouiller les partages idéologiques mais n'en influença pas moins la genèse de la République impériale française.


Author(s):  
Cécile Vidal

This chapter traces the emergence of a sense of place among French New Orleans residents of all conditions through the analysis of the uses of ethnic and national categories. It demonstrates that the French Regime did not witness the birth of a single “Creole” identity that united all historical actors across racial boundaries. Racial formation prevented the development of a shared relationship to the city between settlers, slaves, and free people of color. Nevertheless, after the succession of two generations by the end of the 1760s, as the elite fought to keep the colony within the French Empire during the 1768 revolt, New Orleans emerged as a distinctive place in relation to both the metropole and Saint-Domingue.


Author(s):  
Sue Peabody

Slave labor in eighteenth-century Isle Bourbon was shaped by the cultivation of staple crops, unlike the proto-industrial forms of labor found in the sugar plantations of the Atlantic world, and may have been milder, though periodic cyclones brought famine to slaves and their masters alike. On the eve of the French Revolution, following the death of Charles Routier, Madeleine’s mistress filed manumission papers, freeing her. As a result of the slave revolt in Saint-Domingue (Haiti), France issued the 1794 Decree of 16 Pluviôse abolishing slavery throughout the colonies. Although Madeleine should have been considered free twice over, the widow Routier declared Madeleine her slave on her 1796 census, a moment when Madeleine—like many free people of color in France’s empire—faced potential or actual re-enslavement.


Author(s):  
Sally McKee

This chapter discusses how the free people of color in New Orleans pointed to Edmond Dede as an example of what African Americans could achieve if given opportunities like the ones he found in France. To his death, Creoles of color thought Dede was so unusually accomplished for an American black man that they elevated what little they knew about his life in France to the level of drama. Problems for the historian start with the realization that although the reports about his life were certainly exaggerated by his friends and admirers, some of the enhancements came from Dede himself. For those who seek to understand his opportunities and choices within their historical context, the process of separating fact from wishful thinking awakens a sympathy for the man who risked all and mustered the resources to act on his dreams.


2011 ◽  
Vol 29 (4) ◽  
pp. 1061-1087 ◽  
Author(s):  
Rebecca J. Scott

In the summer of 1809 a flotilla of boats arrived in New Orleans carrying more than 9,000 Saint-Domingue refugees recently expelled from the Spanish colony of Cuba. These migrants nearly doubled the population of New Orleans, renewing its Francophone character and populating the neighborhoods of the Vieux Carré and Faubourg Marigny. At the heart of the story of their disembarkation, however, is a legal puzzle. Historians generally tell us that the arriving refugees numbered 2,731 whites, 3,102 free people of color, and 3,226 slaves. But slavery had been abolished in Saint-Domingue by decree in 1793, and abolition had been ratified by the French National Convention in 1794. In what sense and by what right, then, were thousands of men, women, and children once again to be held to be “slaves”?


Author(s):  
Elizabeth Stordeur Pryor

Chapter 4 tells the story of how, between 1834 and the 1860s, the U.S. Department of State refused to grant free people of color official passports for international travel. During a period when passport policy was still nascent, by rejecting black applicants, the federal government illustrated how travel and citizenship were inextricably linked in the United States. At the same time that African Americans could not get passports, state laws and customs required some people of color to carry a series of identification papers best thought of as racialized surveillance documents, including slave passes, black sailors’ passports, and free papers. Demonstrating how fundamentally raced the idea of carrying papers was to white Americans, when white people traveled abroad, they consistently grumbled about having to show their papers. For colored travelers, however, the passport was an object of desire because it denoted U.S. citizenship. In the late 1840s and early 1850s, by pushing the federal government to address racial restrictions for acquiring the U.S. passport, colored travelers rendered the question of black citizenship a matter of national import almost a decade before the 1857 Dred Scott decision did the same.


Author(s):  
Wim Klooster ◽  
Gert Oostindie

The Second Dutch Atlantic was a distinct era in Dutch colonial history, different both from the imperially-minded period from 1620 through 1680 and the years after 1815, in which the Dutch Atlantic faded into insignificance. While marked by a lack of geographic expansion, the Second Dutch Atlantic saw remarkable Dutch colonial and inter-imperial activity. On the one hand, the Dutch engaged in the Atlantic slave trade, built their own plantation colonies on the “Wild Coast” of South America, and developed their Caribbean islands into commercial assets. On the other hand, they were deeply involved in inter-imperial trade and finance. Maintained by slave majorities and, increasingly, free people of color as well as whites from various European backgrounds, the Dutch Atlantic realm was heterogeneous in its governance, religious profile, and ethnic composition.


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