A slave code the planters simply ignored

Girard makes a provocative case about French slave law. The Code Noir of 1685 forbade masters to rape enslaved women and required them to marry and free those they did, barred marriage without the owner's consent but also against the couple's will, prohibited separating families at auction, obliged owners to feed and clothe people including in old age, denied them the right to torture or execute on their own authority, and even laid down a procedure for the enslaved to sue for mistreatment. Freed people became full French citizens whatever their colour. Set against a France where the king could torture or imprison white subjects without trial, Girard calls it enlightened for its time. The king was far away, however, and settlers who could rough up an inconvenient governor did not repeal the code, they ignored it. He calls that casual disregard for law a lasting feature of Haitian society. Corroborated by 2 works in the library. Where this account departs from the standard one: Girard treats the Code Noir as unusually humane legislation for its era, against the common presentation of it as a charter of French colonial cruelty.

The San Antonio made port at Veracruz on 24 May 1687 with 580 enslaved Africans in its hold. Margarita de Robles, Paula Matias and Maria de Pares came ashore quietly from the captain's cabin. They had been taken in the raid of 1683, held at Petit-Goave, and had worked their way back through Baracoa in eastern Cuba and Havana. On the last leg they travelled as free women and Spanish subjects, seasick and dependent on other passengers for food, but with their status unquestioned. The people below them were about to be branded, quarantined and measured. Matias later gave her age as twenty two and called herself a free mulata. She said the pirate Lorenco had taken her prisoner with other women and carried her to Petit-Goave, where she remained. She named no owner, no husband and no companion, and said nothing of how she had survived four years among the French.

A denunciation made to the inquisitorial commissioner in Salvador in March 1686 described slaveholders buying an enslaved couple precisely because they were known for curing afflictions caused by poison and charms, and hoping to profit from their practice. It sits inside a cluster. Across the two full trials and twenty one investigations from 1686 to 1707, ten cases involved fifteen medical practitioners, and all but one of the fifteen were of African descent. Some stood accused of causing afflictions and some of curing them, and the same people often did both. The knowledge that an illness came from sorcery, and frequently the accusation itself, came from the enslaved, and owners gradually adopted it. Church law had nothing yet to say about any of this, and the Inquisition did not much want the cases. The link between poison, sorcery and African healers was made on plantations and in city streets long before a statute described it.

Eric Williams, the Trinidadian historian and politician, put the point in a sentence. The English settlement of 1688 gave a decisive push to the doctrine of open commerce, and the traffic in captive Africans was then opened on exactly the terms every other line of business was opened on, with a single difference, which lay in the nature of the goods. The goods were people. That settlement is normally taught as the moment parliamentary liberty was secured in England. In the same decades the Royal African Company lost its monopoly and English shipping was opened to any merchant who wanted to fit out a slaver, and the volume carried across the Atlantic rose sharply in consequence. The expansion of liberty at home and the expansion of the traffic in human beings abroad were produced by the same act. Saint-Domingue was reaching its first sugar boom while this was happening on the other side of the Channel.