Caribbean Kings and Emperors

In this episode of Compendium Trivia, we dive into the fascinating and often turbulent history of Haiti's monarchy. Learn how the slave revolution gave birth to the first modern Black nation and why Haiti's experiment with kings and emperors was marked by ambition, intrigue, and dramatic turns. Why were enslaved people in Haiti forced to wear muzzles? How did an American soldier become the last emperor of Haiti? Join us as we uncover this captivating yet little-known history at the heart of the Caribbean. 

Transcript

Hello and welcome!

In today’s episode of Compendium Trivia, we’re diving into the surprising history of the kings and emperors of Haiti. That’s right—Haiti, which today is known for its shaky governance system, to say the least once had its own monarchy!

Let’s take a deep dive into the fascinating royal history of this Caribbean island!

Let’s start with some Haiti facts and finding it on the map. 

Here it is, in the heart of the Caribbean, not too far from Cuba and Jamaica, in the archipelago of the Greater Antilles.

It lies on the western part of the island of the same name.

The eastern part of the island belongs to a separate country—the Dominican Republic, which you may know from vacation brochures and rum ads.

The island was discovered by Europeans in the 15th century, actually by Columbus, who spotted it during his first voyage in 1492. 

You can expect that when Columbus "discovers" a place, it usually doesn't end well for the people already living there. 

That was a case this time as well , the island's indigenous population—the Arawaks—were quickly decimated by guns and the diseases brought from across the ocean. 

The island was then colonized by French and Spanish, who shared it between them: French owned the west and Spanish the east.

The French part, known then as the Saint-Domingue colony, quickly became the richest colony thanks to its plantations of tobacco, sugar, cocoa, coffee, and other high-demand export goods. It was growing so fast that it even earned the nickname “The Pearl of the Caribbean.”

So far, so good, right?

Well, not exactly. Because this meteoric rise of the French colony had a really dark side to it.

Since the local population was wiped out leaving man shortages, the Frenchies decided to solve this problem by importing slave labour.

After all what’s colonization without some horrific human rights abuse right?

Over the next 200 years thousands of Africans were forcibly shipped to Haiti under terrible conditions on slave ships.

Chained together, they slept, ate, and defecated in the same spot in the dark, stuffy decks never seeing a ray of sunlight during their voyage.

Their journey was so brutal that estimated 10–20% of them perished during the voyage.

And what was waiting for those who survived? The "welcome package" was forced labor, malnutrition, violence, and complete dehumanization.

Slaves were worked to literal death, fed barely enough to function, and —believe it or not— sometimes forced to wear muzzles to prevent them from eating the crops they were harvesting. Like dogs.

Punishments were brutal, random, and designed to keep people living in absolute terror. Disease and violence were widespread, women were regularly raped. Slaves were punished in unimaginably cruel ways for the slightest sign of disobedience—or even for no reason at all—just to terrorize the others.

The whole social system of Saint-Domingue was built on divisions, not only along the axis of white colonizers vs. black slaves but also among different African tribes "imported" to the island and among colonizers of different social statuses.

This, in turn, led to a vicious circle of hatred, as described by the French historian Paul Fregosi:

"Whites, mulattos and blacks hated each other. The poor whites couldn't stand the rich whites, the rich whites despised the poor whites, the middle-class whites were jealous of the aristocratic whites, the whites born in France looked down upon the locally born whites, mulattoes envied the whites, despised the blacks and were despised by the whites; free blacks brutalized those who were still slaves, Haitian born blacks regarded those from Africa as savages. Everyone—quite rightly—lived in terror of everyone else. Haiti was hell, but Haiti was rich."[25]

This living hell that Haiti had become eventually reached its boiling point and exploded in 1791 when the great slave uprising began—the so-called Haitian Revolution.

The local French population was quickly wiped out in the process by The vengeance-seeking slaves quickly killed off the local French population, managed to survive military intervention and and by 1804, declared independence—becoming the first modern Black nation and the first European colony to break free. 

So, a victory and a happy ending? Well, not quite. But this is the moment when the first Haitian emperor, mentioned in today's episode title, enters the game.

Jean-Jacques Dessalines was one of the key leaders of the slave uprising, and after the fighting was over, he crowned himself Emperor Jacques I of Haiti. 

You would think that he was following Napoleon footsteps but in fact his coronation ceremony took place two months before Bonaparte’s!

Jacques I was then followed by a king for a change, Henri Christophe, and later another emperor, Faustin Soulouque.

The reigns of all these rulers had a lot in common: they were short-lived, brutal, full of chaos, and ended in a nasty way.

Under their leadership, Haiti constantly struggled economically. And while the country was technically free, the labor system in place was still not much different from slavery.

Internal conflicts were rampant, with different factions and military commanders at each other’s throats. One such rebellion led to the assassination of Emperor Jacques I in 1806—just two years after he took the throne.

Foreign relations were equally challenging. There were armed conflicts with the neighboring Dominican Republic, and the young nation lived under the constant threat of a potential European invasion. To prepare for such a scenario, several forts were constructed at great expense, further depleting the country's already limited resources.

And speaking of money, Haiti’s coffers were also constantly empty thanks to the outrageous "independence debt" France imposed on them in exchange for recognizing their independence. Believe it or not, Haiti was still paying it off until 1947—nearly 150 years later. 

Seems like they really held a grudge and took "breakup fees" to a whole new level.

In those difficult circumstances, the Haitian royals did what they could, but managing the country was not an easy task—especially when they had expensive taste.

They were lavishly overspending on coronation ceremonies, luxury products imported from Europe, and construction projects, while their people lived in poverty.

Henri Christophe, for example, built a ridiculously extravagant palace where he hosted legendary feasts and parties. It later became the scene of his downfall—when surrounded by enemies, he chose to take his own life within its walls in 1820. The palace was destroyed soon after and now stands in ruins, a haunting reminder of Haiti’s dramatic past.

As for the 2nd Emperor Faustin? He also made an abrupt exit, forced to abdicate by rebels in 1859.

After that, Haiti ended their romance with monarchy, and the country switched to a presidential system—because, let's be honest, they’d had enough royal drama in such a short period of time.

Emperor Faustin also made an abrupt exit, forced to abdicate by rebels in 1859.

But the history of Haitian royals doesn’t end there.

There is one more character who was named an emperor of this Caribbean country, although not officially.

And actually, the man was not even born in Haiti.

In fact he was a Polish-born American named Faustin Edmond Wirkus, marine who served on the island during the American occupation of Haiti between 1915 and 1934.

He was stationed on Gonâve, a small island off the Haitian coast, where he met Ti Memenne—a local spiritual leader and the unofficial queen of the islanders.

Because of his kindness in saving her from arrest—and his uncanny name similarity—she saw Faustin as the reincarnation of Haiti’s last emperor, Faustin Soulouque.

Things really escalated from there - in a full-blown Voodoo ceremony, Wirkus was coronated as Faustin II, co-ruling the island alongside Ti Memenne. The locals even called him Li te pe vini—"the one who has returned. — as a successor to the previous emperor.

His rule was actually beneficial for the local population. Using American funds, he managed to build infrastructure and generally improve the lives of his subjects.

But there was just one problem—he was still technically an American marine, not an actual king. And the U.S. government wasn’t thrilled about one of their soldiers moonlighting as a monarch.

After three years of ruling his tiny kingdom, Wirkus was recalled by his superiors and sent back to reality.

He died in 1944 in the U.S., but not before writing a book about his bizarre royal adventure: The White King of La Gonâve: The True Story of the Sergeant of Marines Who Was Crowned King on a Voodoo Island.

It’s an interesting read, and I highly recommend checking it out—I’ve left a link in the description where you can download it for free.

And so ends the fascinating saga of the kings and emperors of Haiti — it was truly a royal rollercoaster. Hope you enjoyed the ride!

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Until next time —Ciao!