A refugee from Saint-Domingue blames Philadelphia's wharves for the fever

Yellow fever killed three thousand five hundred or more people in Philadelphia in 1797. Most physicians who could leave the city did leave. One who stayed was Felix Pascalis, who had arrived in the United States in 1793 as a refugee from the Caribbean and had treated fever patients at Benjamin Rush's house on Walnut Street during the epidemic of that year. His book on the 1797 outbreak argued against the common opinion that the disease had been carried in on human bodies aboard ships from Saint-Domingue. He allowed that ships brought it, and held that it moved through wood and air rather than from person to person, rising as putrid exhalations from the timber wharves along the city's two rivers as they dried out. His recommendation was to replace the wharves with stone and coat the stone with tar once a year. The theory was wrong. The habit of plotting cases against places became part of epidemiology.

The French traveller Moreau de Saint-Mery published the first volume of his description of the French part of Hispaniola in 1797. He had presided over the electors of Paris in July 1789. His account of the rites and beliefs of enslaved people is the earliest to come near what was actually happening, and he still condemned what he had watched as a kind of bacchanal that ended in disgusting prostitution. He noted that the participants were Arada people, from the town of Allada in Dahomey, and that they lived by the rules of their religion. Worship centred on dances around a snake kept in a wired box on an altar, from which the faithful were said to gain knowledge of past and future. A goat was killed and its blood poured over those present, who swore to stay faithful. He described the trance that followed without a word for what it was.

News of the French takeover of the Dutch Republic and the creation of the Batavian Republic had already been part of Tula's argument the previous year. In 1796 it worked its way through the colonial administration. The ancien régime governor Johannes de Veer withdrew and was replaced by a politically colourless local bureaucrat, Jan Jacob Beaujon, who was in turn replaced by an apparently more outspoken pro-French Patriot, Johann Rudolf Lauffer, all within the same year. Oostindie stresses that this reshuffle reflected dynamics inside the white elite, between Orangists and Patriots but also within Patriot circles, over questions that came down to trade and economic interest. Sections of the free coloured population had their own stake in the 1796 power games, mainly better representation in local politics, and there is evidence of open and sometimes violent free coloured protest, but no sign of organised cross-colour action aiming at radical change.

Thornton records that in 1796 Macaya and other band commanders proposed a general massacre of whites, and uses the episode to show that a single leader could work with both of the Kongolese royal models he has reconstructed. To his own followers a leader might present himself as the conqueror king who ruled by force and could act with impunity; to those who would lead a united Haiti he might be an advocate of the blacksmith king, the founder who ruled with consent. Thornton reads the atrocity stories that fill the archives with care, allowing that the brutality of the slave regime and the ferocity of its suppression could generate revenge cycles, and that some tales were invented to turn French opinion against the rebels. Still, he notes that early leaders such as Jeannot enforced iron discipline through terror and displayed African religious paraphernalia in camp.