One of the most peculiar developments near the end of the Haitian Revolution was the adoption of the name Inca and children of the Sun by Jean-Jacques Dessalines. According to historian Thomas Madiou, Dessalines began using the name by the autumn of 1802, referring to those who submitted to him in opposition to the forces of Leclerc (Madiou 451). However, Dessalines dropped the Inca name after July 1803, when he began to refer to his forces as Armée Indigène, asserting indigeneity in opposition to the French (Geggus 52). Although a number of observers and historians have commented on this “Inca Episode” in the history of the Indigenous Army, contextualizing it within the broader context of nationalist struggles in the Americas demonstrates the power of Inca symbolism across much of the Americas, extending even into the Caribbean. Rebecca Earle’s The Return of the Native: Indians and Myth-Making in Spanish America, 1810–1930 provides a context for understanding the appeal of the Inca to the Haitian independence movement. Thus, this brief post will endeavor to elucidate the origins of Inca symbolism and its appeal to the people of Saint Domingue in the 18th century, and connect it to the independence movement that led to independence in 1804. By the conclusion, hopefully Antillean “Incas” will seem less aberrant or surprising.

First, one must determine to what extent people in Saint Domingue were aware of the history of the Incas. Residents of the colony likely encountered the Inca through encyclopedias, histories, and theater. The colonial newspaper, Affiches américaines, actually listed a history of the Incas for sale in the colony on the 31st of October 1780.^[1] On the 17th of May 1783, the same newspaper also listed a book entitled Les Incas as available at the Imprimerie Royale. While it is uncertain if this is a reference to Marmontel’s Les Incas or another work, these references in the colonial press establish the availability of books on the Inca.^[2] Those able to read French texts, undoubtedly mostly whites, but a small number of the population of African descent, too, could have accessed these books through purchase, borrowing texts, or through conversation with those who had read such works.^[3] Those interested in the island of Hispaniola’s indigenous past may have also been familiar with the Incas and Peru through encyclopedias, plays, and histories, which could have reached free people of color and slaves through a variety of avenues. For example, Charles Arthaud, a doctor and member of the Cercle des Philadelphes at Le Cap, authored a study of the island’s indigenous people, Recherches sur la constitution des naturels du pays, sur leurs arts, leur industrie, et les moyens de leur subsistance.^[4] Arthaud and similar philosophes were likely familiar with the Incas through their research. In addition, copies of Voltaire’s Alzire were also listed in the press as available for consumers in a notice on April 15, 1775 at Le Cap. This latter work, we shall see, was a popular choice for stage adaptation in the colony and likely a significant contributor to the appeal of the Incas to the Haitian revolutionaries.

The colonial press also covered the Tupac Amaru Rebellion in Peru during the 1780s. A major revolt led by a descendant of the Incas, Tupac Amaru was mentioned in Affiches américaines 5 times from 1781 to 1784 (Thomson 426). While the brief articles did not invariably provide the most detail, the reference to Tupac Amaru’s presentation of himself as an Inca and the references to his followers as children of the Sun likely stood out to readers. Those familiar with the Incas through encyclopedias, Voltaire’s Alzire, Marmontel’s Les Incas or other texts would have undoubtedly been at least somewhat aware of this historical background. The rebels may have even aroused sympathy from those in the colony who saw the Inca through the lens of the Black Legend of Spanish cruelty and tyranny. Nonetheless, coverage of the rebels in the 1 May 1782 article referred to the actions of Tupac Amaru’s band as “brigandages” whilst also referring to the event as “too interesting” to not cover. One can imagine that enslaved people and free people of color who heard the news may have been interested, too. After all, a subjugated, oppressed people had risen in revolt, perhaps recalling to some their own racialized subordination in the French colony. Those familiar with the Incas through books or Alzire may have even conceptualized the Incas as captives or slaves rising against their oppressors in a way similar to slave revolts and marronage in the colony.

The next area in which familiarity with the Incas developed was theater. Theater could reach more people than written texts in a colonial society with low literacy rates, and audiences likely discussed what they saw with friends, families and neighbors.^[5] Enslaved people were probably exposed to this, directly or indirectly, while free people of color were sometimes prominent actors themselves or audience members of stage productions. Indeed, according to Fischer, “Theater appears to have been one arena where blacks, whites, and mulattoes mixed with relative ease and where the laws governing theatrical performances in France were relaxed long before the “liberation of theaters” in the metropolis” (Fischer 208). Theater, therefore, was a sure way in which certain themes, messages, and ideas were bound to circulate among all of the 3 racial groups in the colony. This is precisely why Voltaire’s Peruvian-inspired play, Alzire, likely contributed to the appeal of the Inca to the Haitian revolutionaries in 1802. Between 1765 and 1783, the play was staged at least 7 times in the colony, including performances in Port-au-Prince, Le Cap and Saint-Marc. This suggests that the play’s plot was probably familiar to audiences, and certainly those familiar with the text of the work or Voltaire’s other likely  books knew of it by reputation. Since free people of color and perhaps some of the slave population would have seen the play or at least heard about its plot, setting, and characters, Alzire was possibly the most important source of information on the Inca Empire and Peru. Moreover, one staging of the play included an actor, Dainville, who allegedly wore authentic costumes for the role, suggesting audiences had a glimpse of what was believed to be Inca dress.^[6] As a result of the frequency of performances of Alzire plus the availability of the play in book form to consumers, Voltaire’s story was familiar and accessible.

The play itself, a story set in colonial Peru that pits a tyrannical governor, Guzman, against Zamor, a cacique of Potosi and lover of Alzire, critiques the Spanish conquest and, intriguingly, reverses the charge of barbarism against the Europeans. Zamor, believed to be dead, returns to see Alzire and later slays Guzman, described in the text as “Zamor, our country’s great avenger” (Voltaire 13). Despite Voltaire’s admiration for the Incas, however, the play ends with a message of the moral redemption of Guzman. This, in turn, demonstrates to Zamor that Christianity and the Europeans were not entirely iniquitous. In other words, Zamor, the Avenger of the Americas, is ready to enjoy the benefits of Spanish or European civilization through the benevolent, paternal figure of Alvarez, the father of Guzman. One can envision free people of color in a colony like Saint Domingue imagining themselves as Zamor, ready to lead the masses into a truly novel New World with the benefits of European civilization. The message is thus ambiguously critical of colonialism since the new generation of indigenous elites, represented by Alzire and Zamor, the latter presumed to convert to Christianity later, will likely seek the counsel of Alvarez (the positive side of European civilization). If one wishes to trace the origin of this ambiguity deeper in time, El Inca Garcilaso de la Vega, whose Royal Commentaries was well-known to French intellectuals, was the mestizo product of the Spanish conquest whose work served as one of the foundational sources for French historical and literary production related to Peru.^[7] El Inca Garcilaso, torn between the idealized version of his mother’s people and his Spanish background and experience, indirectly influenced Alzire and how audiences in Saint Domingue viewed the Incas.

Besides theater, news and books, familiarity with the Inca may have reached Saint Domingue through contact with pro-independence Creoles from Spanish America in France. For example, Franciso de Miranda, who interacted with Brissot, was already interested in the Incas before the Haitian Revolution.^[8] Although Miranda did not go so far as to desire an actual Inca ruler at the head of government, his interest in reviving the name for an independent South American state was mirrored by other movements in South America. For instance, the Inca Plan of 1816, in which Rio de la Plata leaders at the Congress of Tucumán actively discussed the idea of reviving an Inca empire led by an Indian, reveals how some pro-independence leaders seriously considered a revival of the Inca state (Earle 44). Other pro-independence writers across South America drew on the Incas, Inca symbolism, or the idea of a hereditary monarchy led by a titular Inca. Undoubtedly, Haiti’s use of this symbolism predated much of the South American nationalist movements, though Francisco de Miranda may have been one of the early influences since 1790. Of course, as Earle’s work suggests, romanticized notions of the Incas or the pre-conquest societies as idealized groups wronged by Spanish colonialism became part of an invented past for a creole nationalism. However, Earle tracks how this changed over time as liberals and conservatives appropriated the past of pre-colonial societies while maintaining their own elite positions and access to power. Regardless of their lofty praise indigenous civilizations or the metaphorical use of the Indian as a foundational figure for the nation, the direct descendants of the indigenous peoples were usually marginalized. In Haiti, on the other hand, where there were no natives, Creoles of varying degrees of African descent participated in a similar discourse that privileged the elites and marginalized the bossales (or their descendants).^[9]

(See part II, here)

[1] An additional possible source of information on the Incas and the Spanish Conquest may have been Abbé Raynal’s Histoire philosophique et politique des établissements et du commerce des Européens dans les deux Indes.

[2] Jean-François Marmontel, a friend of Voltaire, wrote a historical romance on the conquest of Peru. His work was, as one might expect, similar to Voltaire’s on the subject of Peru, and known to some in Saint Domingue, including one of the generous of the Indigenous Army.

[3] On literacy in Saint Domingue’s people of color, see Jean Fouchard, Les marrons du syllabaire: quelques aspects du problème de l’instruction et de l’éducation des esclaves et affranchis de Saint-Domingue.

[4] An interest in the island of Hispaniola’s indigenous past was quite strong with the Cercle des Philadelphes. See Colonialism and Science: Saint Domingue and the Old Regime by James E. McClellan III.

[5] On theatre in Saint Domingue, see Jean Fouchard, Le théâtre à Saint-Domingue.

[6] “Authentic” Inca regal garb likely left quite an impression on viewers. Even if rather deviant from historically accurate clothing, special costumes probably fueled more discussion about the play.

[7] The child of a conquistador and a woman from the Inca nobility, El Inca Garcilaso wrote his history of the Incas as an elderly man in Spain, with the help of other written sources and the manuscript of a text by Blas Valera, a Jesuit mestizo from Peru. See The Jesuit and the Incas: The Extraordinary Life of Padre Blas Valera, S.J. by Sabine Hyland.

[8] See Hacía una historia de lo imposible by Juan Antonio Fernandez for intriguing details about Miranda’s time in Europe and the possible flow of ideas that reached free people of color from Saint Domingue.

[9] Possibly fruitful comparisons could be made with the Spanish Caribbean, too. A large corpus of poems, novels, histories and legends were connected to independence movements in Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. For an introduction to the theme of the Indian in the Spanish Caribbean, consult Jalil Sued Badillo’s “The Theme of the Indigenous in the National Projects of the Hispanic Caribbean”in Making Alternative Histories: The Practice of Archaeology and History in Non-Western Settings.