The Colonial Dream: Imperial Knowledge and the French-Malagasy Encounters in the Age of Enlightenment 9783110715316, 9783110715248

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Damien Tricoire The Colonial Dream

Transregional Practices of Power

Edited by Milinda Banerjee, Julia C. Schneider, and Simon Yarrow

Volume 5

Damien Tricoire

The Colonial Dream Imperial Knowledge and the French-Malagasy Encounters in the Age of Enlightenment Translated by Christine O’Neill

The translation of this work was funded by Geisteswissenschaften International – Translation Funding for Work in the Humanities and Social Sciences from Germany, a joint initiative of the Fritz Thyssen Foundation, the German Federal Foreign Office, the collecting society VG WORT, and the Börsenverein des Deutschen Buchhandels (German Publishers & Booksellers Association).

ISBN 978-3-11-071524-8 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-071531-6 e-ISBN (EPUB) 978-3-11-071535-4 ISSN 2625-235X Library of Congress Control Number: 2022947802 Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2023 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston Cover image: Port Louis dans l’île de Sainte-Marie; vue de l’ancien monument de la prise de possession, in: Abel, Hugo, France pittoresque ou Description pittoresque, topographique et statistique des départements et colonies de la France […], Paris: Delloye, 1835. Foto: Damien Tricoire. Printing and binding: CPI books GmbH, Leck www.degruyter.com

Preface Preface to the English edition The Colonial Dream is more than a book about the French and the Malagasy. It is essentially a study of political and, above all, intellectual failure. The accounts of “the European expansion” have long placed an emphasis on the political, military, organisational and intellectual superiority of the Europeans while casting aside the fact that European rule was rather exceptional in the early modern world. By showing that the reasons for political, military and intellectual failure were structural and not merely incidental, this monograph contributes to revising narratives that have a long tradition and still influence the way we write history. This also implies reconsidering the Enlightenment not as a triumph of rationality, but rather as that of an imaginary that did, in many cases, impoverish the Europeans’ empirical understanding of the world. The Colonial Dream is a slightly revised translation of my German monograph Der koloniale Traum (Böhlau, 2018). In the meantime, Pernille Røge’s monograph Économistes and the Reinvention of Empire (2020) has appeared, which reaches similar conclusions regarding the central role of physiocrats in the invention of Enlightenment colonialism (ideas that I had also presented in my Enlightened Colonialism of 2017). I have profited from the comments of reviewers, especially those of Rafaël Thiébaut, that have added precision to some details. The present edition benefits especially from references to Gilbert Ratsivalaka’s unpublished dissertation on the emergence of the Kingdom of Madagascar with which I was not familiar when I wrote Der koloniale Traum. This translation and publication would not have been possible without the “Geisteswissenschaften International”, a prize funded most generously by the Börsenverein des Deutschen Buchhandels (German Book Trade Association), the Fritz Thyssen Foundation, VG WORT and the Auswärtige Amt (German Foreign Office). All these institutions I would like to thank very warmly. Furthermore, my gratitude goes to Christine O’Neill, who has translated the manuscript with great skill.

Preface to the German edition This book is a revised version of my ‘Habilitation’ (postdoctoral thesis), which was submitted to the University of Halle-Wittenberg in 2016. The German ‘Habilitation’, which is similar to a second doctoral dissertation, provides the scholar https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-001

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with the opportunity of a radical change of subject, and indeed, within the discipline of history, such a change is usually expected. What may feel like coercion to some, to me felt like enrichment. Studying a new era (the Age of Enlightenment), a new region (the Indian Ocean) and new subject areas (global history and the history of knowledge) amounted to a major broadening of my horizons. I have endeavoured to present these new research interests in a book that is readable, that combines narrative with analysis, is based on an examination of historiography and yet is not overloaded with specialist discussions. The research project out of which this book grew was influenced by encounters during my years in Halle. After my arrival at the Martin Luther University in 2011, I soon discovered that Halle had an astonishing concentration of institutions that are active in my newly-chosen areas of research. The history of ideas, religion and the global history of the eighteenth century are explored intensively by the Interdisziplinäres Zentrum fü r die Erforschung der Europäischen Aufklärung (IZEA) [Interdisciplinary Centre for European Enlightenment Studies], the Exzellenznetzwerk “Aufklärung – Religion – Wissen” (ARW) [‘Enlightenment – Religion – Knowledge’ Network of Excellence], the Interdisziplinäres Zentrum fü r Pietismusforschung (IZP) [Interdisciplinary Centre for Pietism Studies] and the Franckesche Stiftungen [Francke Foundations]. The Max Planck Institute for Social Anthropology also provides valuable stimuli in the field of global history. Above all, however, I was fortunate to be employed by Andreas Pečar, Professor of Early Modern History. I owe a lot of ideas to the intensive collaboration that quickly developed between us. Andreas involved me in many of his projects yet still left me plenty of time for research, for which I am deeply grateful. He thinks of scholarship as a conversation and cultivates an admirably open, stimulating and honest culture of discussion. I was fortunate to interest him in Enlightenment colonialism and consequently, among other things, he supported my plan to hold a conference on this topic which resulted in a book entitled Enlightened Colonialism (2017). Most notably, we co-authored a book on the Enlightenment that grew out of our unease at the anachronistic interpretations underlying both the white and black legends of the Enlightenment (Falsche Freunde, Frankfurt a. M. 2015). These projects directly influenced the present monograph. Last but not least, Andreas read the manuscript of this book and offered valuable advice. During this time, I have benefited from conversations with many people who drew my attention to relevant literature and research material, among them my esteemed colleagues Catherine Ballériaux, Moritz Baumstark, Paul Beckus, Simon Dagenais, Miriam Franchina, Karsten Holste, Marianne Taatz-Jacobi and Ingrid Würth. I am grateful to Prof. Dr. Anja Bandau, who was kind enough to

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comment on parts of the manuscript from the perspective of literary studies. The members of the ‘Habilitation’ Committee, Prof. Dr. Michael G. Müller, Prof. Dr. Antje Flüchter and Prof. Dr. Thomas Bremer, have provided valuable advice that improved the manuscript. The same holds for the editors of the ‘Externa’ Böhlau series: Prof. Dr. Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger, Prof. Dr. Christian Windler, Prof. Dr. Hillard von Thiessen and associate professor Dr. André Krischer. To Nathalie Szczech I am grateful for the photos from Grasset de Saint-Sauveur’s book. I was afforded the opportunity to present parts of the project for discussion at colloquia and conferences in Berlin, Buenos Aires, Halle, Heidelberg, Leipzig, Münster, New York, Tübingen and Wolfenbüttel; for this I would like to thank Prof. Dr. Peter Burschel, Prof. Dr. Renate Dü rr, Prof. Dr. Daniel Fulda, Dr. Sü nne Juterczenka, Daniel Kanhofer, Prof. Dr. Karen Kupperman, Prof. Dr. Hans-Jü rgen Lü sebrink, Prof. Dr. Matthias Middell, Gabriel Rocha and Prof. Dr. Barbara Stollberg-Rilinger. My special thanks go to my wife Daria Sambuk who, through these years, has always accompanied me intellectually, supported me with advice and has read, commented on and corrected the manuscript. This book is dedicated to her.

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Fig. 1: Map of Madagascar showing the locations most important for this study.

Contents Introduction 1 Colonial and Global Histories 5 History of Knowledge and of the Enlightenment Structure and Arguments 33

19

Encountering and Narrating 

Islamic and European Globalisations 39 41 Colonial Failure Explained Cultural Hybridisations on the Margins of the Islamic World First European Attempts at Expansion 53

45



The French in Madagascar, the French from Madagascar 57 The Subjects of Two Kings 58 Mercenaries and Robbers 62 67 The East India Company and the Impossible Colonisation Massacre on Nosy Boraha 71



Imperial Failure and Colonial Fantasies A Colonial Master without a Colony Dreamers and Sceptics 81 86 Health and Environment Trade and Goods 89



Maudave, or The Optimist 97 Rule by Natural Authority 98 Transcultural Communication 105 Political Irrelevance 113 A Voltaire in Madagascar 117 A Montesquieu in Madagascar 121



Unsuccessful Conquistadors 125 French-Malagasy Plans for a Coup 127 A New Colony Misery and Devastation 130

77 78

125

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A Cortés in Madagascar Slave Trader and Tyrant

136 141



Beňovský or The Enlightenment Robinsonade 145 A Robinson Crusoe in Madagascar 146 149 Narrativisation and Objectivisation Beňovský’s Contradictions 153 159 A George Washington in Madagascar A Lycurgus in Madagascar 162



Persistence and the End of the Dream of Madagascar 170 A Malagasy-French “Republic” 171 Maudave’s Vision during the Revolution 174 180 Convicts and Slaves The New Madagascar Policy of the Restoration Period 185

Creating Knowledge 



The Spirit of Gentleness 199 200 Madagascar during the Late Enlightenment The Discourse on Madagascar in the Ministry of the Navy Taboos of Enlightenment Colonialism 217 Violence 218 Frontiersmen 222 Indigenous Knowledge and Racial Categorisation Religion and “Superstition” 232

225

 Colonialism and philosophie 238 The Problems of Ruling from a Distance 239 Flacourt’s Reception during the Enlightenment 243 A Laboratory for the History of Civilisation 248 Philosophers and Politicians 256 Legitimising Knowledge in the Age of Enlightenment  Adventurers and Bureaucrats 273 The Mascarenes and the Origin of the Discourse 275 The Indian Ocean and Armchair Adventurers 285 Patronage and Knowledge Production 293

264

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The Memoranda and their Archiving 302 The New Epistemic Setting of the Restoration Period

310

 The Birth of Modern Colonialism? 317 Changing Colonial Politics after the Seven Years War 320 329 Old Approach, New Coat of Paint Rupture in practice? 336 337 Assimilationism as a Colonial Ideology of the Modern Era? Conclusion

341

Appendix 348 List of Handwritten Memoranda on Madagascar (1769 – 1819) Abbreviations

353

Illustrations

354

Bibliography

355

Index

381

348

Introduction In October 1776, Moritz (Móric) August Beňovský, commander of the French troops in Madagascar, sent to the Minister of the Navy in Versailles the text of an oath taken by the ‘kings, princes and chiefs of the island of Madagascar’. According to the document, the native princes pledged allegiance to Beňovský and elected him ‘Ampansakabe’, King of Kings of Madagascar: After we have eaten the sacrificed animal and sworn the blood oath before our peoples, we sing, declare and acknowledge Moritz August count Beniovsky [sic!] as our supreme head, as Ampansakabe […]. Therefore […] we submit to his authority by an inviolable oath; accordingly, we resolve to erect a monument in our province of Mahavelou [sic!] to commemorate this union and immortalise our sacred vow, so that our children and our children’s children will remain into the remotest future devoted to the sacred and priestly Ampansakabe family, this we sanctify by our submission […].¹

According to Beňovský, this election led to the establishment of French rule in northern Madagascar, although only indirectly, as it could not function without him. His letters reveal that this breakthrough did not happen without preparation. A few months earlier, Beňovský had explained to the Minister of the Navy how he had succeeded in subjugating the island: The plan I have pursued regarding the natives has always been marked by justice. The islanders were always wary […] and for a long time they thought my ventures were traps. They came to realise that their own manoeuvres of deception and breaches of trust were of no use to them; they dared to use violence. This, however, opened their eyes to the unreasonableness of their actions. Defeated and homeless, they decided to submit themselves as slaves; I have received them as friends and given them back their old possessions; I have even received them as allies. Such an approach […] also showed the other nations that peoples who are subject to the [French, D. T.] government are happy. They come from all cor-

 ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 11, fol. 2 f., Acte du serment des rois, princes et chefs de Madagascar commencé le 1er octobre 1776 dans la plaine de Mahavelona, pour élire Maurice-Auguste de Benyowsky au rang d’Ampansacabé, no place, n.d.: “Aiant consommé le sacrifice et fait le serment du sang en présence de nos Peuples, chantons, déclarons et reconnoissons le Maurice Auguste Comte Béniowsky pour notre chef supreme Ampansacabé […]. C’est pourquoi […] nous nous soumettons inviolablement a son autorité, en conséquence nous décidons d’ériger en notre Province de Mahavelou un monument pour perpétuer la Mémoire de notre Union, et d’immortaliser notre sacré serment, afin que nos enfants et enfants de nos enfants jusqu’à la postérité la plus reculée soient soumis à la sacrée famille D’ombiasse d’ampansacabé, que nous sanctifions, par nos soumissions […].” https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-002

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Introduction

ners of the island to subject themselves and enjoy dependence on the [French, D. T.] government. The rule of justice has moved them to call us wise men.²

For the Minister of the Navy, this was splendid news. But should he trust it? The reports of Beňovský’s direct superiors, the governor and the intendant of Île de France (today’s Mauritius), painted a completely different picture. With his impetuous war policy, Beňovský had put the king to great expense without being able to show any tangible success.³ Nonetheless, an employee of the Bureau de l’Inde at the Ministry of the Navy proposed on 30 June 1776 that the king should grant Beňovský independence from the administration of Île de France. Though it was not yet possible to be absolutely certain that the reports of victory from the Great Island, as Madagascar was often called, were true, they were so precise and in keeping with the extraordinary audacity of this exceptional man that one could assume his reports contained at least partial truths.⁴ A genius like him should be able to act freely: Be that as it may, […] one must recognise in [Beňovský, D. T.] an exceptional man made to instigate revolutions and able to create a colony. But a man of his stature was not born to be dependent on the government of Île de France. Any dependence hinders the momentum of genius.⁵

A year earlier, the ministerial administration had already prepared a whole series of legal documents and instructions to help establish a new independent admin-

 ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 96, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 2 June 1776: “Le plan que j’ai suivi envers les naturels du pays porta toujours l’empreinte de la justice. Les Insulaires toujours méfians […] prirent longtems mes démarches pour des pièges, ils ont vu que leurs trumperies et trahisons devenoient inutiles, ils osèrent tenter la voie des forces, qui enfin leur a ouvert les yeux sur leur égarement, vaincus et expatriés ils ont pris le parti de se soumettre en esclaves, Je les ai reçu en amis en les rétablissant dans leurs anciennes possessions, qui plus est je les ai reçu au nombre des alliés : un tel procedé […] convainqui en même tems [sic] les autres nations du bonheur dont jouissaient les peuples soumis au gouvernement, ils viennent d’un bout de l’Isle à l’autre se soumettre pour jouir de la dependence du Gouvernement, dont l’administration de la justice à leur égard nous à mérité d’eux mêmes le nom de sages.”  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 75, Ternay and Maillart to the Minister of the Navy, 16 August 1774, and no. 90, Ternay to Aiguillon, 6 September 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 62, p. 2, “Rapport au ministre relatant un acte de courage extraordinaire”, Versailles, 30 June 1776.  Ibid., p. 3: “Quoiqu’il en soit, […] on ne peut s’empêcher de reconnoitre en lui un homme rare et extraordinaire, fait pour les révolutions et digne de créer un établissement. Mais un homme de cette trempe n’est pas né pour être dépendant d’un Gouverneur de l’Isle de france. Toute dépendance arrête les élans du génie.”

Introduction

3

istration for a large colony in Madagascar.⁶ Thus, it appears that in Versailles, not just a few believed in Beňovský’s success. To the contemporary reader who knows that Beňovský was one of the most daring impostors of the eighteenth century and who reads how the minister had been warned against him by the governor and the intendant of Île de France, such excessive credulity is positively astounding. The case of Beňovský reveals phenomena that play a central role in this book, namely the imaginary colonisation of Madagascar after the Seven Years War, and a tendency that may be described as the colonisation of the imaginary. After 1763, the establishment of certain colonialist conceptions of the self and the Other can be observed in France. With regard to the Red Island, as Madagascar is sometimes called, perceptions became prevalent that had little to do with local realities. Colonial politicians were inclined to follow colonial dreams rather than an empirical assessment of the particular situation. Information about the situation in colonised areas was easily manipulated by adventurers. Such developments are linked to personal interdependencies, relationships of patronage, techniques of knowledge acquisition in the French administration and norms for the legitimisation of knowledge. That Beňovský’s fantastic tales were given credence was due to his position in the service of the Minister of the Navy. Also, he made use of the media of information generation (memoranda, maps, etc.) which created their own reality and guided the worldview of the political actors in the motherland, thus contributing to his success. Finally, the commander embedded his account in an accepted discourse on the right and proper way to colonise Madagascar. The adventurer showed himself as a ‘civiliser’ who, beyond all conflicts, ultimately won the hearts of the natives through gentleness, fairness and trade, and raised them to the next level of civilisation. In doing so, Beňovský in his self-fashioning drew on ideas that had emerged in the 1760s especially in writings on Madagascar and which, in the following decades, were to have a strong impact on public discourse about this island in the Indian Ocean, and colonial expansion in general. In fact, hardly any other part of the world captured the imagination of French colonial politicians in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries as much as Madagascar – “the largest island in the world”, as it is relentlessly called in the sources. In 1793, for example, a senior official of the Ministry of the Navy noted that “the Naval Department has a large number of memoranda on Madagascar”.⁷ The

 ANOM, C 5 A 5, nos. 44– 49.  Quoted from Wanquet, Claude, “Entre délire de conquête et parcimonie. La politique française à Madagascar à la fin de l’Ancien Régime”, in: Revue historique des Mascareignes 5

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Introduction

memoranda of the later eighteenth century, which plead for colonial expansion in Madagascar, fill several boxes in the archives of the Ministry of the Navy. Numerous other memoranda can be found in holdings containing the correspondence of various personalities with the Ministers of the Navy as well as in several files of the Foreign Ministry. In the second half of the eighteenth century, these memoranda inspired no less than three actual attempts to establish a colony in Madagascar: on Nosy Boraha (the island of Sainte-Marie) by the Compagnie des Indes in the 1750s, in Tôlanaro (Fr. Fort-Dauphin) by the Comte de Maudave in the years 1768 – 1772, and in Antongil Bay by Moritz Beňovský and his successor Sanglier in the period 1773 – 1785. Further expansion plans were about to be implemented, such as the project to create a penal colony as decided by the National Convention in 1793, or the plan of 1800 to establish protectorates. The fact that all these projects failed miserably did not deter the authors of such plans from proposing similar projects right up to the Napoleonic era. Rather, these colonial planners saw themselves encouraged by the fact that other enlightened men had had similar ideas before them. In short, a self-referential discourse on Madagascar established itself. This book, among other things, is concerned with understanding how such a discourse could emerge and gain acceptance. Its history is not only relevant for an analysis of the ultimately failed attempts at colonial expansion on the Great Island, but it also provides insights into the history of the Enlightenment, French colonial history and the history of knowledge in the French administration. The discourse on Madagascar was central to the definition of the roles in the world that French elites ascribed to themselves during the second half of the eighteenth century. It provided the framework for new colonial policy objectives. Its genesis also reveals much about the history of ideas and knowledge, which are usually summarised under the headings of “Enlightenment” and “ruling from a distance”. With the study of the history of French colonial expansion in, and knowledge of, Madagascar, this work aims to contribute to two areas of research, namely colonial and global history on the one hand, and the history of knowledge and the Enlightenment on the other.

(2004), 207– 222, here 208: “Le département de la Marine possède une grande quantité de mémoires sur Madagascar”.

Colonial and Global Histories

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Colonial and Global Histories This book approaches colonial and global history on three levels. At a microhistorical level, the focus is a case study of Madagascar, which in recent research has been largely neglected and is therefore, to some extent, still interpreted according to older patterns dating back to the colonial period. It is necessary to “decolonise” further the history of Madagascar in the eighteenth century. More generally, the aim is to contribute to a better understanding of continuities and ruptures in colonial history, particularly that of the French empire. The case of Madagascar is helps answer the question of the extent to which the Enlightenment period constituted a colonial-historical watershed. There is no serious scholarly monograph that covers French attempts at expansion in Madagascar in the early modern period.⁸ In general accounts of French colonial history of that period, and even in monographs on the French East India Company, the attempts at colonial expansion on the Great Island in the eighteenth century are mentioned only in passing.⁹ Until recently, serious misinterpretations have been circulating in scientific publications. According to an article by a renowned historian of Madagascar, for example, Beňovský  Though the recently published account by Gérard Buttoud offers a synthesis, it is not based on an archival study; see Buttoud, Gérard, L’échec des premières colonies françaises à Madagascar (1633 – 1831), Paris 2017. The scholarly work that comes closest to an analysis of the FrenchMalagasy encounters is Gilbert Ratsivalaka’s unpublished PhD dissertation that interprets the emergence of the Merina-dominated Kingdom of Madagascar within the framework of Malagasy resistance to French colonial expansion. This thesis provides many valuable insights into some of the episodes that are at the core of the present narrative. However, its overall perspective is different, as it does not focus on the French production of information and colonial fantasies; rather, it is best characterised as an apology for King Radama’s expansion policy. Ratsivalaka’s account is influenced by Malagasy nationalism, which leads to some distortions in the history of the French-Malagasy encounters. He endeavours to show that Malagasy independence was strongly threatened by the French in order to justify the necessity of national unification under Merina domination, and in so doing, he tends to overestimate the political and commercial strength of the French. Ratsivalaka also exaggerates the cohesion among Malagasy actors, for example when he claims that there was a “Malagasy resistance” to French colonialism. Lastly, he presents the Merina expansion as a largely peaceful process – a narrative that has been strongly criticised by Gwyn Campbell. See Ratsivalaka, Gilbert, Madagascar dans le sud-ouest de l’océan Indien (circa 1500 – 1824). Pour une relecture de l’histoire de Madagascar, Thèse de doctorat, Université de Nice/Sophia Antipolis, 1995; Campbell, Gwyn, An Economic History of Imperial Madagascar, 1750 – 1895. The Rise and Fall of an Island Empire, Cambridge 2005.  E. g. in Haudrère, Philippe, L’Empire des rois, 1500 – 1789, Paris 1997, 135 – 140, 330 f. There is hardly any mention of Madagascar in Ames, Glenn Joseph, Colbert, Mercantilism, and the French Quest for Asian Trade, DeKalb (Ill.) 1996, 33 – 36, 92– 94; Ménard-Jacob, Marie, La Première Compagnie des Indes. 1664 – 1704. Apprentissages, échecs et héritage, Rennes 2016.

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Introduction

had built up a large colony in the north of the island with a capital, roads, canals, plantations and industrial facilities, even though this colony existed only on paper.¹⁰ The colonisation attempt of the seventeenth century that lasted thirty years is better known but is often interpreted by researchers as a start-up mistake rather than a symptomatic chapter in the history of French colonialism.¹¹ So far, specialists in early modern French colonial history have only taken a marginal interest in Madagascar. To some extent, the island remains the private hunting ground of experts on the history and culture of the southern Indian Ocean. Portuguese and British scholars have written little about the Great Island in the early modern period, even though individuals from these nations were very much present in Madagascar.¹² Similarly, the interest of French and Malagasy scholars, who have worked on this topic in recent decades, has usually been the regional history of the Indian Ocean in general, and of Madagascar in particular. They concentrated on phenomena that were of greater importance to Malagasy history than the failed French attempts at expansion. Thus, ethnologists, ethnohistorians and archaeologists have made great progress in understanding the political structures and social orders on the island prior to the establishment of the “Kingdom of Madagascar” in the early nineteenth century.¹³  Campbell, Gwyn, “Imperial Rivalry in the Western Indian Ocean and Schemes to Colonise Madagascar, 1769 – 1826”, in: Afrikanische Beziehungen, Netzwerke und Räume, eds. Lawrence Marfaing/Brigitte Reinwald, Mü nster 2001, 111– 130, here 84.  Haudrère, L’Empire des rois, 135 – 140.  Larson, Pier M., “Colonies Lost. God, Hunger, and Conflict in Anosy (Madagascar) to 1674”, in: Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 27/2 (2007), 345 – 366, here 341; Campbell, An Economic History, I.  Deschamps, Hubert, Histoire de Madagascar, Paris 1960; Ottino, Paul, L’Étrangère intime. Essai d’anthropologie de la civilisation de l’ancien Madagascar, Paris 1986; Hébert, Jean-Claude, “Les Zavaga ou Zabaga indonésiens (= Vazaha), artisans et trafiquants du fer, commerçants ou pirates (?) à Madagascar et aux Comores, aux XIIe–XIIIe siècles”, in: Omaly sy Anio. Revue d’études historiques 37– 40 (1993 – 1994), 13 – 62; Beaujard, Philippe, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux dans le sud-est de Madagascar. Les exemples Antemoro et Tañala”, in: Omaly sy Anio 33 – 36 (1991– 1992), 235 – 286; Vérin, Pierre, Histoire ancienne du nord-ouest de Madagascar, Antananarivo 1972; Vérin, Pierre, Les Échelles anciennes du commerce sur les côtes nord de Madagascar, thèse de doctorat d’État, unprinted, université de Lille III, 1975; Vérin, Pierre, Les Zafimaniry et leurs traditions esthétiques, Paris 1991; Kottak, Conrad Philip/Jean-Aimé Rakoroarison/ Aidan Sonthall/Pierre Vérin (eds.), Madagascar. Society and History, Durham (N. C.) 1986; Rahamefy, Adolphe, Le Roi ne meurt pas. Rites funéraires princiers du Betsiléo, Paris 1997; RaisonJourde, Françoise (ed.), Les Souverains de Madagascar. L’histoire royale et ses résurgences contemporaines, Paris 1983; Ballarin, Marie-Pierre, Les Reliques royales à Madagascar. Source de legitimation et enjeu du pouvoir, Paris 2000; Molet, Louis, La Conception malgache du monde du surnaturel et de l’homme en Imerina, 2 vols., Paris 1979; Rakotoarisoa, Jean-Aimé, Mille ans d’occupation humaine dans le Sud-Est de Madagascar. Anosy, une íle au milieu des terres, Paris 1998;

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The limited interest in Madagascar today contrasts with the attention that the island enjoyed in France in the early modern period. If little research has been done on the French-Malagasy history of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it is not due to a lack of sources. Much was printed about the Great Island in eighteenth-century France: travel reports, histories of the seventeenth-century colonisation attempts, as well as descriptions of the island and some novels.¹⁴ The holdings of the former Colonial Office (bureau des colonies) of the Ministry of the Navy, which are now in Aix-en-Provence, also contain numerous manuscripts dealing with Madagascar. These can be divided into three groups: official correspondence, memoranda and personal files. The first group includes what were almost weekly letters between the Ministry of the Navy, colonial officials and other imperial actors in the Madagascar–Île de France–Versailles triangle. The memoranda were written by various individuals whose main place of residence, at least temporarily, had been in the Indian Ocean area. However, most of these memoranda were written in France and sent to the Ministry of the Navy. The ministry officials then copied and stored them in a separate archive, the Dépôt des colonies. Finally, the personnel files contain letters, memoranda or copies of court records from, and about, persons who worked in Madagascar. In addition, the memoranda collections of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs include numerous manuscripts concerning Madagascar. The Museum of Natural History in Paris holds the bequests of several people who had travelled to the island. The French National Library also houses manuscript holdings about the Great Island. Sources in the Archives nationales in Pierrefites-sur-Seine relate to the decree of the National Convention to turn Madagascar into a penal colony. However, the early attempts at the colonisation of Madagascar are not entirely unexplored. Recent literary and historical essays on the presence of the French in Madagascar and their writings about the island as well as about the colonial-

Lombard, Jacques, Le Royaume sakalava du Menabe. Essai d’analyse d’un système politique à Madagascar, XVIIe–XXe siècles, Paris 1988; Kent, Raymond, Early Kingdoms in Madagascar, 1500 – 1700, New York 1970; Kent, Raymond, “Religion and State in Madagascar. A comparison of Antanosy and Sakalava in the 1600s”, in: Omaly sy anio 5 – 6 (1977), 279 – 297.  Nivoelisoa Galibert’s publications provide a good overview of French Madagascar literature of the early modern period; see Galibert, Nivoelisoa, Madagascar dans la littérature française de 1558 à 1990. Contribution à l’étude de l’exotisme, Villeneuve d’Ascq 1999; Galibert, Nivoelisoa, Chronobibliographie analytique de la littérature de voyage imprimée en français sur l’océan Indien (Madagascar, Réunion, Maurice) des origines à 1896, Paris 2000. Another important resource is Grandidier, Guillaume, Bibliographie de Madagascar, 2 vols., Paris 1905.

8

Introduction

ist imagination in the seventeenth¹⁵ and eighteenth¹⁶ centuries, form the point of departure for this monograph. In recent decades, researchers have gained more detailed knowledge of international trade on the island.¹⁷ Knowledge about Madagascar in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries has, apart from a few historians, been studied primarily by literary scholars, who have investigated the connection between images of Madagascar, utopian literature and the Enlightenment. Yet the insights gained so far have not been embedded sufficiently in French colonial history or in the history of knowledge of the French administration and of the Enlightenment period.¹⁸ Also, we must still resort to publications

 Schmidlin, Joseph, “Les premières missions à Madagascar à la lumière des matériaux de la ’Propagande’. Traduit, présenté et annoté par V. Belrose-Huygues et J.-L. Peter S. J.”, in: Omaly sy Anio 11 (1980), 113 – 127; Larson, “Colonies Lost”; Autour de Flacourt. Actes du colloque “Étienne de Flacourt”, à l’occasion du centenaire des Études malgaches à l’Institut national des langues et civilisations orientales (Orléans, 11 octobre 1996), Paris 1998; Racault, Jean-Michel, “Les Voyageurs du XVIIe siècle devant les croyances malgaches. Le cas de Souchu de Rennefort, ou du témoignage documentaire à la quête métaphysique”, in: Revue historique des Mascareignes 5 (2004), 187– 202; Bechtloff, Dagmar, Madagaskar und die Missionare. Technisch-zivilisatorische Tranfers in der Frü h- und Endphase europäischer Expansionsbestrebungen, Stuttgart 2002.  Campbell, “Imperial Rivalry”; Campbell, An Economic History; Filliot, Jean-Michel, “Les Établissements français à Madagascar au XVIIIe siècle”, in: H. J. Deschamps (ed.), Perspectives sur le passé de l’Afrique noire et de Madagascar. Mélanges offerts à Hubert Deschamps, Paris 1974, 66 – 89; Wanquet, “Entre délire de conquête et parcimonie”; Wanquet, Claude, “La première abolition de l’esclavage à Madagascar. Une histoire fantasmée”, in: Revue historique des Mascareignes 2 (2000), 83 – 97; Wanquet, Claude, “Joseph-François Charpentier de Cossigny et le projet d’une colonisation ‘éclairée’ de Madagascar à la fin du XVIIIe siècle”, in: Guy Jacob (ed.), Regards sur Madagascar et la Révolution française, Antananarivo 1990, 71– 85; Pawliková-Vilhanová, Viera, “Móric Beňovsky´ a Madagaskar”, in: Móric Beňovsky´, 1746 – 1786 – 1996. Cestovatel’, Vojak, Král’. Súbor štúdií, Martin 1997, 47– 57; Sylla, Yvette, “Un envoyé de l’Assemblée nationale à Madagascar en 1792. La mission de Daniel Lescallier”, in: Guy Jacob (ed.), Regards sur Madagascar et la Révolution française, Antananarivo 1990, 63 – 69.  Rakoto, Ignace (ed.), La Route des esclaves. Système servile et traite dans l’est malgache, Paris 2000; Armstrong, James C., “Madagascar and the Slave Trade in the Seventeenth Century”, in: Omaly sy Anio 17– 20 (1983 – 1984), 211– 233; Hooper, Jane, Feeding Globalization. Madagascar and the Provisioning Trade, 1600 – 1800, Athens (Ohio) 2017.  Rambeloson-Rapiera, Jeannine, “Madagascar et les Malgaches dans la pensée des Lumières”, in: Guy Jacob (ed.), Regards sur Madagascar et la Révolution française, Antananarivo 1990, 29 – 41; Jacob, Guy, “Le Madécasse et les Lumières. Voyage à Madagascar d’Alexis Rochon”, in: idem, Regards sur Madagascar et la Révolution française, Antananarivo 1990, 43 – 57; Galibert, Madagascar dans la littérature; Galibert, Nivoelisoa, “Fanjahira et la coupure. Écrits lazaristes du Fort-Dauphin (1648 – 1657)”, in: Revue historique des Mascareignes 5 (2004), 179 – 186; Zatorska, Izabella, Discours colonial, Discours utopique. Témoignages français sur la conquête des antipodes, XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles, Varsovie 2004; Linon-Chipon, Sophie, “Madagascar illustrée. Littérature de voyage et iconographie du XVIIe au XIXe siècle”, in: Revue historique des

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from the colonial period (1896 – 1960) to reconstruct the history of political events.¹⁹ But these pre-1960 narratives convey older models of explanation that are in need of revision. It was by no means the case that historians from the colonial period were uncritical of early modern colonial actors. Yet they hardly took the Malagasy’s agency seriously and implicitly assumed that a victory of the French over the “savages”, who in their eyes often enough resembled children, represented the norm. They also had a tendency to adopt uncritically the claims and self-fashionings of the French on the Red Island, or at least defend the record of some self-appointed colonial masters. Moreover, they were

Mascareignes 5 (2004), 131– 146; Linon-Chipon, Sophie, “De l’art de (ne pas) coloniser. Mythe et désenchantement des Français à Madagascar et à l’Île Bourbon au XVIIe siècle”, in: Norbert Dodille (ed.), Idées et Représentations coloniales dans l’océan Indien, Paris 2009, 313 – 320; LinonChipon, Sophie, Gallia orientalis. Voyages aux Indes orientales, 1529 – 1722, poétique et imaginaire d’un genre littéraire en formation, Paris 2003; Molet-Sauvaget, Anne, Madagascar dans l’œuvre de Daniel Defoe. Étude de la contribution de cet auteur à l’histoire de l’île, thèse de doctorat d’État, unprinted, université de Dijon 1989; Fougère, Éric, Les Voyages et l’Ancrage. Représentations de l’espace insulaire à l’âge classique et aux Lumières (1615 – 1797), Paris 1995; Gigan, Angélique, “Bernardin de Saint-Pierre et la colonisation de Madagascar”, in: Norbert Dodille, Idées et Représentations coloniales dans l’océan Indien, Paris 2009, 321– 334; Racault, Jean-Michel, “Les premières tentatives coloniales à Madagascar (XVIIe–XVIIIe siècles). Échos dans la fiction”, in: Norbert Dodille (ed.), Idées et représentations coloniales dans l’océan Indien, Paris 2009, 285 – 298.  Malotet, Arthur, Étienne de Flacourt ou les origines de la colonisation française à Madagascar, 1648 – 1661, Paris 1898; Froidevaux, Henri, Un explorateur inconnu de Madagascar au XVIIe siècle: François Martin, Paris 1896; Froidevaux, Henri, Un mémoire inédit de M. de la Haye sur Madagascar, Paris 1897; Froidevaux, Henri, Valeur historique des deux éditions de l’ouvrage de Flacourt, Paris 1900; Froidevaux, Henri, La France à Madagascar. Jacques Pronis, Paris 1900; Froidevaux, Henri, Les Lazaristes à Madagascar au XVIIe siècle, Paris 1903; Froidevaux, Henri, Les derniers projets du duc de La Meilleraye sur Madagascar, 1663, Paris 1915; Grandidier, Alfred/Guillaume Grandidier, Histoire de la découverte de l’île de Madagascar par les Portugais pendant le XVIe siècle, no place 1902; Grandidier, Alfred/Guillaume Grandidier, “Les Anglais à Madagascar au XVIIe siècle. Leurs projets et tentatives de colonisation sur la côte Sud-Ouest”, in: Revue de Madagascar 5/1 (1903), 492– 502; Grandidier, Alfred, Histoire physique, naturelle et politique de Madagascar, vol. 4: Ethnographie de Madagascar, tome premier: Les Habitants de Madagascar, deuxième partie: Les Étrangers, Paris 1908; Grandidier, Guillaume/Raymond Decary, Histoire physique, naturelle et politique de Madagascar, vol. 5: Histoire politique et coloniale, Tome III: Histoire des populations autres que les Merina, Fascicule I: Betsileo, Betsimisaraka, Antanosy, Sihanaka, Tsihimety, Bezanozano, Antanala, Antankarana, Bara, Mahafaly, Antandroy, Tananarive 1958; Foury, B., “Maudave et la colonisation de Madagascar (1ère partie)”, in: Revue d’histoire des colonies 41 (1955), 343 – 404; Foury, B., “Maudave et la colonisation de Madagascar (2ème partie)”, in: Revue française d’histoire d’outre-mer 43 (1956), 14– 81; Pouget de Saint-André, H., La colonisation de Madagascar sous Louis XV, d’après la correspondance inédite du comte de Maudave, Paris 1886; Cultru, Prosper, Un empereur de Madagascar au XVIIIe siècle. Benyowsky, Paris 1906.

10

Introduction

largely blind to hybrid realities and the “going native” of the French.²⁰ The fact that these narratives still influence historiography is thus problematic. As a result, scholarship since the colonial period has seen the reasons for the failure of the French settlement under Maudave not in the actions of the indigenous people, but in the lack of support from the administration of Île de France,²¹ or in the “tyrannical” behaviour of individual French officers.²² These explanations have two things in common. First, they assume that a European who is humane and has sufficient means at his disposal, should in principle succeed in establishing a colony in Madagascar. Second, they go back to patterns of interpretation of colonial actors in the eighteenth century when the failing French often negated the structural obstacles that made colonial expansion impossible.²³ Hence, one of the aims of this study is to question how best to write the history of the French presence in the southern Indian Ocean, and to explore the causes of failure and how this failure was dealt with. In doing so, this book is in line with a research trend of the past few decades. While in colonial historiography as recently as the mid-twentieth century, the victory of “civilisation” over “barbarism” was often assumed, at least implicitly, and the Europeans tended to be portrayed as the actual agents of modernity, the ambiguities of colonial rule have become the focus of interest since the 1970s. In recent years, the perspective on imperial history has been emphatically decentred, and the emergence of polycentricity and the autonomy of the imperial border regions have been examined.²⁴ According to more recent research, even in the colonies the Eu Very critical of Beňovský’s lies, however, is Cultru, Un empereur de Madagascar.  Grandidier, Histoire physique, naturelle et politique, vol. 5, part III, 106; Wanquet, “Entre Délire de conquête et parcimonie”, 216 – 218; Campbell, “Imperial Rivalry”, 84; Zatorska, Discours colonial, 5; Filliot, “Les Établissements français à Madagascar”, 84.  Sylla, Yvette, “Les Malata. Cohésion et disparité d’un ’groupe’”, in: Omaly sy Anio 21– 22 (1985), 19 – 32, here 23.  Such a negation of failure and the scant willingness to learn from failure seem to have been typical, as recent cultural studies on failure show; see Brakensiek, Stefan/Claudia Claridge (eds.), Fiasko. Scheitern in der Frü hen Neuzeit. Beiträge zur Kulturgeschichte des Misserfolgs, Bielefeld 2015; Karstens, Simon, Gescheiterte Kolonien – Erträumte Imperien. Eine andere Geschichte der europäischen Expansion, 1492 – 1615, Wien 2020.  White, Richard, The Middle Ground. Indians, Empires, and Republics in the Great Lakes Region, 1650 – 1815, Cambridge 1991; Daniels, Christine/Michael Kennedy (eds.), Negotiated Empires. Center and Peripheries in the Americas, Routledge 2002; Hinderaker, Eric, Elusive Empires. Constructing Colonialism in the Ohio Valley, 1673 – 1800, Cambridge 2008; Stoler, Ann Laura/Frederick Cooper, “Between Metropole and Colony. Rethinking a Research Agenda”, in: Ann Laura Stoler/Frederick Cooper (eds.), Tensions of Empire. Colonial Cultures in a Bourgeois World, Berkeley (CA) 1997, 1– 58; Cardim, Pedro et al. (eds.), Polycentric Monarchies. How Did Early Modern

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ropeans were by no means the only imperial actors. A crucial role has been played by indigenous elites in establishing, shaping and stabilising the imperial order.²⁵ Europeans often had to adapt to local structures and hybrid realities emerged, so that in the end, it is not always clear who dominated whom.²⁶ The non-European colonial or non-colonial societies within which Europeans acted were often marked by ambiguities, “métissages” (physical as well as cultural hybridisations) and transculturality,²⁷ and many actors were able to move between these worlds.²⁸ Indigenous peoples and African slaves have creatively appropriated European political and legal ideas²⁹, while, at the same time, exert-

Spain and Portugal Achieve and Maintain a Global Hegemony?, Chicago 2012; Grafe, Regina, and Alejandra Irigoin, A Stakeholder Empire. The Political Economy of Spanish Imperial Rule in America, London 2008.  White, The Middle Ground; Jennings, Francis, The Invasion of North America. Indians, Colonialism, and the Cant of Conquest, Chapel Hill 1975; Jennings, Francis, The Ambiguous Iroquois Empire. The Covenant Chain Confederation of Indian Tribes with the English Colonies, New York 1984; Jennings, Francis, Empire of Fortune. Crowns, Colonies and Tribes in the Seven Years’ War in America, New York 1988; Eccles, W. J., The Canadian Frontier, 1534 – 1760, New York 1969; Masters, Adrian, “A Thousand Invisible Architects. Vassals, the Petition and Response System, and the Creation of Spanish Imperial Caste Legislation”, in: Hispanic American Historical Review 98 (2018), 377– 406; Dowd, Gregory Evans, “Wag the Imperial Dog. Indians and Overseas Empires in North America, 1650 – 1776”, in: A Companion to American Indian History, eds. Philip J. Deloria/Neal Salisbury, Oxford 2002, 46 – 67.  White, The Middle Ground.  Gruzinski, Serge, La Pensée métisse, Paris 1999; White, Sophie, Wild Frenchmen and Frenchified Indians. Material Culture and Race in Colonial Louisiana, Philadelphia 2012; Feichtinger, Johannes/Ursula Prutsch/Moritz Csáky (eds.), Habsburg postcolonial. Machtstrukturen und kollektives Gedächtnis, Innsbruck 2003; Hárs, Endre/Wolfgang Mü ller-Funk/Ursula Reber/Clemens Ruthner (eds.), Zentren, Peripherien und kollektive Identitäten in Österreich-Ungarn, Tü bingen 2006; Flü chter, Antje, The Dynamics of Transculturality. Concepts and Institutions in Motion, Cham 2015.  Calloway, Colin G., Crown and Calumet. British-Indian Relations, 1783 – 1815, Norman 1987; White, The Middle Ground; Teltscher, Kate, “Writing Home and Crossing Cultures. George Bogle in Bengal and Tibet, 1770 – 1775, in: Kathleen Wilson (ed.), A New Imperial History. Culture, Identity and Modernity in Britain and the Empire, 1660 – 1840, Cambridge 2004, 281– 296; Hsia, Ronnie Po-Chia, A Jesuit in the Forbidden City. Matteo Ricci, 1552 – 1610, Oxford 2010; Sysyn, Frank E., Between Poland and the Ukraine. The Dilemma of Adam Kysil, Cambridge 1985.  Pulsipher, Jenny Hale, Subjects unto the Same King. Indians, English, and the Contest for Authority in Colonial New England, Philadelphia 2005; Ghachem, Malick W., The Old Regime and the Haitian Revolution, Cambridge 2012; Calloway, Colin G./Neal Salisbury, “Introduction. Decolonizing New England Indian History”, in: Reinterpreting New England Indians and the Colonial Experience, eds. Calloway, Colin G./Neal Salisbury, Boston 2003, 13 – 23; Silvermann, David J., “The Church in New England Indian Community Life. A View from the Islands and Cape Cod”,

12

Introduction

ing a decisive influence on European thought and politics both overseas and in the colonial mother countries. Even racial and orientalist thinking (in Edward Said’s sense) derived in part from self-descriptions and self-images of the nonEuropeans.³⁰ Accordingly, Europeans had often found it difficult to comprehend this ephemeral and mixed colonial reality.³¹ Therefore, historians no longer endeavour to write the history of empires and globalisation primarily as European history. The manifold interconnections between world regions and communities (as in Subrahmanyam’s connected history) and the unstable and context-dependent mutual perceptions are reconstructed.³² The history of diplomacy has also contributed to this renewal of the history of intercultural encounters. Christian Windler emphasises that diplomatic interactions should be understood as an “experience of the Other” (expérience de l’Autre) in which actors are not locked into a fixed culture that prescribes their interpretations. Agents manoeuvre between divergent normative systems; they often deal with them pragmatically and produce new, and partly contradictory, interpretations.³³ This book is a further contribution to a series of studies, such

in: Colin G. Calloway/Neal Salisbury (eds.), Reinterpreting New England Indians and the Colonial Experience, Boston 2003, 264– 298.  Shoemaker, Nancy, “How the Indians Got to be Red”, in: The American Historical Review 102 (1997), 625 – 644; Jobst, Kerstin, “Orientalism. E. W. Said und die Osteuropäische Geschichte”, in: Saeculum 51 (2000), 250 – 266; Schnepel, Burkhard, “Verschlungene Wege in den Orient und zurü ck. Ein Prolog”, in: Schnepel, Burkhard /Gunnar Brands/Hanne Schöning (eds.), Orient – Orientalistik – Orientalismus. Geschichte und Aktualität einer Debatte, Bielefeld 2011, 15 – 28.  Stoler, Ann Laura, Along the Archival Grain. Epistemic Anxieties and Colonial Common Sense, Princeton 2009, 182– 234; Pagden, Anthony, The Uncertainties of Empire. Essays in Iberian and Ibero-American Intellectual History, Aldershot 1994.  Gruzinski, Serge, Les Quatre Parties du monde. Histoire d’une mondialisation, Paris 2006; Boucheron, Patrick (ed.), Histoire du monde au XVe siècle, Paris 2009; Bertrand, Romain, L’Histoire à parts égales. Récits d’une rencontre orient-occident (XVIe-XVIIe siècles), Paris 2011; Burbank, Jane/Frederick Cooper (eds.), Empires in World History. Power and the Politics of Difference, Princeton 2010; Lieberman, Victor, Strange Parallels. Southeast Asia in Global Context, c. 800 – 1830, Cambridge 2003; Richards, John F., The Unending Frontier. An Environmental History of the Early Modern World, Berkeley 2003; Chakrabarty, Dipesh, Provincializing Europe. Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference, Princeton 2000; Stuchtey et al., Across Cultural Borders; Subrahmanyam, Sanjay, Penumbral Visions. Making Polities in Early Modern South India, Ann Arbor 2001; Subrahmanyam, Sanjay, Mughals and Franks, New Dehli 2005; Subrahmanyam, Sanjay, Three Ways to be Alien. Travails and Encounters in Early Modern World, Waltham 2011; Hopkins, A. G. (ed.), Globalization in World History, London 2002.  Windler, Christian, La Diplomatie comme expérience de l’Autre. Consuls français au Maghreb (1700 – 1840), Genève 2002.

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as that of Christina Brauner,³⁴ which confirm these theses. It explores the (diplomatic) encounters as moments in the formation of transculturality, hybrid realities and symbolic ambiguities. When French officials met with Malagasy princes, they adapted their conduct, their techniques of symbolic communication and rituals of forming alliances. In the following, as far as the sources allow, the creation of ad hoc interpretations, rituals and symbols that integrated the Other into one’s own sign system and made him a friend and ally is examined. This process worked both ways and, contrary to the assertions of French officials to their superiors, it never created distinct hierarchies. The subaltern personnel, who appear only fleetingly in the sources, were significantly involved in these fluid interpretations.³⁵ These were the interpreters and trade clerks, who possessed the necessary language and communication skills, and thus helped to shape the interactions between French officials and local princes. Indeed, in some cases, they did not act in the interest of their superiors; they were well able to develop a secret diplomacy of their own that was connected to their position in the local society. In fact, many French such as interpreters, trade clerks or private traders, who maintained lasting relationships with Malagasy people, integrated into local society, for example by marrying Malagasy women and thereby assuming Malagasy social roles. The result of these encounters was not a “middle ground” as the French presence was too weak for that. Rather, the French and métis integrated into Malagasy political and social structures. Only then, and often through plans that were not at all in the interests of the French state, did they have a chance to gain wealth and power. This also means that we must decentre our view of the French colonial empire and look for the local realities beyond the discourses that were produced for headquarters by the French administration in the region. In the case of Madagascar in the early modern period, however, due to a lack of sources, it is not possible to overcome the older Eurocentric and colonial view by writing an “histoire à parts égales”,³⁶ that is, a history that pays equal attention to the perceptions and strategies of both the Europeans and the non-Euro-

 Brauner, Christina, Kompanien, Könige und caboceers. Interkulturelle Diplomatie an der Goldund Sklavenkü ste im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert, Köln/Weimar/Wien 2015.  Christian Windler identified research into the role of subaltern personnel as a desideratum fifteen years ago; see Windler, La Diplomatie comme expérience de l’Autre, 28. Although no systematic study of this topic is provided here, it is given some attention. Also see the anthology edited by Windler and Hillard von Thiessen on the multiplicity of actors in international relations: Von Thiessen, Hillard/Christian Windler (eds.), Akteure der Außenbeziehungen. Netzwerke und Interkulturalität im historischen Wandel, Cologne 2010.  Bertrand, L’Histoire à parts égales.

14

Introduction

peans. The few Malagasy manuscripts from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries almost all have a magical-religious character and are of secondary importance for this study.³⁷ Here, it will be necessary to use European sources to reconstruct and interpret the local societies, political conditions, as well as the strategies and reactions of the Malagasy to the French presence. Even though the main body of the French sources from the eighteenth century had a legitimising function and contained little local knowledge as will be shown, this does not apply to all texts equally. Some letters, the report of a commission of enquiry, some travel reports as well as diaries do provide insights into local realities and perceptions. Moreover, it is possible to compare the information from the eighteenth century with very different descriptions by authors from the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries, as well as with modern ethnological research. Reconstructing the political strategies of Malagasy princes often shows that there was a huge discrepancy between French and Malagasy expectations. What is narrated here is a story of encounters and connections between two parts of the world³⁸ that involved many misperceptions on the part of the Europeans. The knowledge of Madagascar that the French administration developed was clearly inadequate to help impose dominion. Why was this so? It was not that the French were inherently unable to adopt the Malagasy view of the world or that they lived apart from Malagasy society. On the contrary, there was a lively French-Malagasy world, which was marked by transculturality and métissages. However, there were different levels and kinds of knowledge in the different world regions. Recent historiography on the history of science has emphasised that regional cultures have a direct influence on science itself. The ways in which scholarship is funded, pedagogic traditions, communication networks but also ideologies and religions, influence the practices

 The only known early modern manuscripts that tell the story of the kings are from the Antaimoro. The dynasty of the Merina did not have its own history written down until the nineteenth century. For the Malagasy manuscripts, the so-called sorabe, and their use by historians, see Guenier, N. J., “Au carrefour de l’oralité et de la tradition écrite. Sources malgaches en caractères arabes”, in: Omaly sy Anio 23 – 24 (1986), 77– 90; Beaujard, Philippe, “Les manuscrits arabico-malgaches (sorabe) du pays Antemoro”, in: Omaly sy Anio 28 (1988), 123 – 150; Kent, Early Kingdoms, 88 – 114, 205 – 242.  For the terms and research paradigms of world and global history, see Osterhammel, “Zugänge zur Weltgeschichte”; Borchardt, Knut, “Globalisierung in historischer Perspektive”, in: Jü rgen Osterhammel (ed.), Weltgeschichte, Stuttgart 2008, 217– 238; Mazlish, Bruce, “Global History and World History”, in: Mazlish, Bruce/Akira Iriye (eds.), The Global History Reader, New York 2005, 16 – 20; Hunt, Lynn, Writing History in a Global Era, New York 2014, 44– 72.

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and content of scientific inquiry.³⁹ Such differences across space can be observed in the case of knowledge about Madagascar, and it may be said that France and the Indian Ocean formed two different knowledge regions even for French-speaking people. The French produced two different kinds of knowledge. In Madagascar, they acquired a local knowledge that was connected with Malagasy societies, cultures and everyday life. The metropolitan elites and the French state apparatus, on the other hand, produced a knowledge that was remote from Malagasy everyday life and that served primarily to justify claims to power.⁴⁰ This knowledge was imperial. In order to develop an effective policy, it was important for the colonial headquarters to gain insight into how Malagasy and European actors or the métis on the ground experienced and perceived everyday life and politics, and how they developed their commercial and political strategies accordingly. However, because it fulfilled other functions, the late Enlightenment knowledge of Madagascar was too far removed from local perceptions and experiences to help Versailles design an effective expansionist policy. Rather, it served to bolster the aspirations of agents who either wanted to be active as colonial masters in the Indian Ocean or promoted such projects. It was decisively influenced by a French narrative with an ideological character, the Enlightenment, and functioned within the framework of French networks of patronage. Despite the emergence of a shared French-Malagasy world, it is impossible to avoid the conclusion that the repeated early modern French attempts at expansion on this island all failed miserably. This was due not only to the unrealistic expectations of some of the protagonists, but also to the mistaken hopes of the decision-makers that there would be some advantage in colonising the Great Island. The present study examines the failed colonisation efforts of the early modern period with particular attention to the Age of Enlightenment. It begins in 1642 and concludes in 1817– 1819, when French policy on the mainland of the Great Island had failed and the French settled instead on the island of Nosy Boraha (Fr. Sainte-Marie), to the east of Madagascar. In 1817, a prince from the Malagasy highlands, Radama I, King of the Merina, subjected Toamasina (Fr. Tamatave), the most important port on the east coast. Thereafter, the Merina-dominated Kingdom of Madagascar blocked French colonial expansion on the mainland until the end of the nineteenth century. In the context of these political shifts as well as altered modes and conditions of knowledge pro Livingstone, David N., Putting Science in its Place. Geographies of Scientific Knowledge, Chicago 2003, esp. 87– 134.  On these two different kinds of knowledge: Luckmann/Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, 1– 118.

16

Introduction

duction, a change took place in Paris as the French elites abandoned the late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar and their assimilationist approach to expansion. One appeal of the case examined here lies precisely in the repeated failures of the French. If to date experts in French colonial history have paid little attention to the history of the Great Island, it is – apart from the low international profile of Madagascar today – no doubt partly due to this lack of success. It comes as no surprise that the historiography of colonial history concentrates on success, since this is what leads to the establishment of domination of distant places. Yet such a focus on expansion creates a distorted picture of the history of Europeans overseas. Sometimes, the general portrayals of “European expansion” give the impression that the Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, French and British had overrun the world in the early modern period.⁴¹ In recent monographs by renowned historians, one still reads that for five centuries, Europeans and their colonial offshoots dominated the seas and much of the earth.⁴² Even some authors who clearly do not write apologetic accounts of colonial history sometimes explain this alleged global dominance by claiming that the Europeans had not only superior technology but also a “more rational calculation of cause-and-effect and means-to-an-end” than other peoples.⁴³ By contrast, this study will emphasise that in the early modern period, apart from Siberia, the Europeans conquered only about a third of the Americas, and not a third of the world, as is often stated.⁴⁴ Virtually everywhere else, if present at all, they were only one group of actors alongside others and did in no way dominate large territories until the late eighteenth century. Early modern colonial history was full of uncertainties and failures.⁴⁵ Consequently, research into French-Malagasy history is meant to help correct the image of the Europeans as the main agents of global

 This bias and the importance of the history of failure is also emphasised in Larson, “Colonies Lost”, 346, whereas Haudrère emphasises the successes and the expansion: Haudrère, L’Empire des rois.  Headrick, Daniel R., Power over Peoples. Technology, Environments, and Western Imperialism. 1400 to present, Princeton 2010, 1. Particularly problematic is Geoffrey Parker’s account of the European military revolution. According to Parker, “the native peoples of America, Siberia, Black Africa and Southeast Asia lost their independence to the Europeans” in the early modern period. However, this finding does not apply to a single African nation; see Parker, Geoffrey, The Military Revolution. Military Innovation and the Rise of the West, 1500 – 1800, Cambridge 1988, 115 – 145 (quotation p. 136).  Reinhard, Wolfgang, Kleine Geschichte des Kolonialismus, Stuttgart 1996 (quotation p. 57).  Parker, The Military Revolution, 4 f.; Headrick, Power over Peoples, 2.  Games, Alison, The Web of Empire. English Cosmopolitans in an Age of Expansion, Oxford 2008, 14, emphasises the uncertainties and failures in the history of the English colonial empire.

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historical change and modern rationality, an image based not least on apologetic representations from the colonial period. In addition, it is important to use the French-Malagasy case study to reflect on the periodisation of the history of the French colonial empire. Usually, that history is divided into two periods, namely that of the “first” and the “second” colonial empire. The first, supposedly, was largely lost in the late eighteenth century, while the second was initiated with the invasion of Algeria.⁴⁶ More recently, however, the thesis has been put forward that both eras share similar colonialist expectations. Saliha Belmessous, for example, pointed out that both in the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries, French elites had sought to assimilate the colonised. In Canada in the time of Louis XIV, as well as in Algeria in the second half of the nineteenth century, it was assumed that the colonised peoples would become French.⁴⁷ Since assimilationist expectations with regard to Madagascar were vigorously formulated in the eighteenth century, the Red Island seems particularly suitable to test this thesis.⁴⁸ Finally, based on the French case, this monograph seeks to help clarify whether the intellectual origins of modern colonial empires should be looked for in the Enlightenment. The new assimilationist Madagascar policy after the Seven Years War correlates with a series of changes in the policies of several European empires. From the 1760s onwards, increasing expansionist efforts may be noted, based on the project to “civilise” the colonised. In Spanish America around this time, state authorities developed the ambition not to leave the “savages” to the church but to undertake their “civilisation” themselves, and this was to go hand in hand with an expansion into new regions. Research on the Russian Empire shows similar civilising efforts at the same time. Even within Europe, the Habsburg, Prussian and Russian rulers claimed to be civilising forces.⁴⁹ The Brit-

 The Encyclopedia Universalis divides French colonial history into these two phases: Bruhat, Jean, Français, empire colonial, in: Encyclopedia Universalis, URL: http://www.universalis.fr/encyclopedie/empire-colonial-francais/. Wikipedia features two separate articles: Premier empire colonial français, Wikipedia, URL: https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Premier_empire_colonial_fran %C3 %A7ais and Second empire colonial-français, Wikipedia, URL: https://fr.wikipedia.org/ wiki/Second_empire_colonial_fran%C3 %A7ais (last accessed: September 3, 2015).  Belmessous, Saliha, Assimilation and Empire. Uniformity in French and British Colonies, 1541 – 1954, Oxford 2013.  Duchet, Michèle, Anthropologie et Histoire au siècle des Lumières, Paris 1971, 97, 213, 219.  See the contributions in Tricoire (ed.), Enlightened Colonialism; Weber, David, Barbaros. Spaniards and their Savages in the Age of Enlightenment, New Haven 2005; Paquette, Gabriel B., Enlightenment, Governance, and Reform in Spain and its Empire, 1759 – 1808, Basingstoke 2011; Quarleri, Lía, “New forms of colonialism in imperial borders. Political agency, ideology of change and internal contradictions (Río de la Plata, late eighteenth century)”, in: Damien Tri-

18

Introduction

ish colonial administrations seem to have made less of an effort to civilise and assimilate indigenous peoples before the nineteenth century, even though this idea had already spread among the elites of New England in the first half of the eighteenth century.⁵⁰ Nevertheless, a new imperial ambition developed in the British colonial empire after 1763 to treat non-Europeans more like subjects of the Crown and to protect them from encroachment by colonists.⁵¹ The emergence of a civilising policy in several colonial empires suggests that the Enlightenment period opened a new chapter in the history of colonialism. The interest of many colonial planners was not only in commerce, the creation of settler colonies or plantations, but increasingly also in the domination and

coire (ed.), Enlightened Colonialism. Civilization Narratives and Imperial Politics in the Age of Reason, Cham 2017, 93 – 110; Sunderland, Willard, Taming the Wild Field. Colonization and Empire on the Russian Steppe, Ithaca/London 2004; Vul’pius, Rikarda [Vulpius, Ricarda], “Vesternizatsiia Rossii i formirovanie rossiiskoj tsivilizatorskoi missii v XVIII veke”, in: Martin Aust/Rikarda Vul’pius/Aleksej Miller (eds.), Imperium inter pares: Rol’ transferov v istorii Rossiiskoi imperii, 1700 – 1917, Moskva 2010, 14– 41; Winkler, Martina, “From Ruling People to Owning Land. Russian Concepts of Imperial Possession in the North Pacific, eighteenth and early ninenteenth Centuries”, in: Jahrbü cher fü r Geschichte Osteuropas 59 (2011), 321– 353; Bömelburg, Hans-Jü rgen, Friedrich II. Zwischen Deutschland und Polen. Ereignis- und Erinnerungsgeschichte, Stuttgart 2011, chpt. 4; Maner, Hans-Christian, “Zwischen “Kompensationsobjekt”, “Musterland” und “Glacis”. Wiener politische und militärische Vorstellungen von Galizien von 1772 bis zur Autonomieära”, in: Hans-Christian Maner (ed.), Grenzregionen der Habsburgermonarchie im 18. und 19. Jahrhundert. Ihre Bedeutung und Funktion aus der Perspektive Wiens, Mü nster 2005, 103 – 122; Thomas, Colin, “The Anatomy of a Colonization Frontier. The Banat of Temešvar”, in: Austrian History Yearbook 19 – 20/2 (1983 – 84), 3 – 22; Wolff, Larry, “Inventing Galicia. Messianic Josephinism and the Recasting of Partitioned Poland”, in: Slavic Review 63/4 (2004), 818 – 840.  Beaulieu, Alain, “‘Gradually Reclaiming Them from a State of Barbarism’. Emergence of and Ambivalence in the Aboriginal Civilization Project in Canada (1815 – 1857)”, in: Damien Tricoire (ed.), Enlightened Colonialism. Civilization Narratives and Imperial Politics in the Age of Reason, Cham 2017, 159 – 177; Ballériaux, Catherine, Missionary Strategies in the New World 1610 – 1690. An Intellectual History, New York/London 2016, 126 – 128.  Sosin, Jack M., Whitehall and Wilderness. The Middle West in British Colonial Policy, 1760 – 1775, Lincoln 1962; White, The Middle Ground, 269 – 365; Calloway, Crown and Calumet; Craton, Michael, “Planters, Imperial Policy, and the Black Caribs of St. Vincents”, in: Craton, Michael, Empire, Enslavement, and Freedom in the Caribbean, Kingston 1997, 117– 132; Ray, Rajat Kanta, “Indian Society and the Establishment of British Supremacy, 1765 – 1818”, in: Peter J. Marshall (ed.), The Oxford History of the British Empire, vol. 2: The Eighteenth Century, Oxford 1998, 508 – 529; Ahmed, Siraj, “Orientalism and the Permanent Fix of War,” in: Daniel Carey/Lynn Festa (eds.), The Postcolonial Enlightenment. Eighteenth-Century Colonialism and Postcolonial Theory, Oxford 2009, 167– 203; Bowen, H. V., Revenue and Reform. The Indian Problem in British Politics 1757 – 73, Cambridge 1991; Stagl, Jakob Fortunat, “The Rule of Law Against the Rule of Greed. Edmund Burke Against the East India Company”, in: Rechtsgeschichte 20 (2012), 104– 124.

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transformation of culturally alien peoples. This aspiration corresponds to the core of what, according to Jürgen Osterhammel, may be understood by “colonialism”: Colonialism is a relationship of domination between collectives, in which the fundamental decisions regarding the lives of the colonised are made, and actually enforced, by a culturally different minority of colonial masters disinclined to adapt and driven primarily by external interests. In the modern era, this is usually associated with doctrines of justification based on an ideology of mission following on from the colonial masters’ conviction of their own cultural superiority.⁵²

Colonialism is thus both a political and a cultural construct. It is characterised by the fact that “colonial masters” dominate a people perceived as culturally alien without wanting to adapt to local norms, and justifying this discursively and symbolically. Assimilationism, in turn, may be understood as a variety of colonialist ideology. French-Malagasy history should help us to understand why, in the late eighteenth century, a colonial policy that aimed at closer integration, acculturation or even assimilation of the foreign peoples, was particularly attractive. What role did the Enlightenment play in this? To what extent did the ideas of eighteenth-century European intellectuals usher in a new era of colonial history?

History of Knowledge and of the Enlightenment In her classic work Anthropologie et Histoire au Siècle des Lumières of 1971, Michèle Duchet sketched a new image of the Enlightenment. Instead of fighting colonialism, the philosophes had supported colonial expansion through their writings. Though the Enlightenment authors expressed compassion for the fate of the subjected “savages”, they pleaded at the same time that they be civilised.⁵³ Here, at several points, Duchet referred to the French discourse on Madagascar

 Osterhammel, Jü rgen, Kolonialismus. Geschichte, Formen, Folgen, Mü nchen 1995, 20: “Kolonialismus ist eine Herrschaftsbeziehung zwischen Kollektiven, bei welcher die fundamentalen Entscheidungen ü ber die Lebensfü hrung der Kolonisierten durch eine kulturell andersartige und kaum anpassungswillige Minderheit von Kolonialherren unter vorrangiger Berü cksichtigung externer Interessen getroffen und tatsächlich durchgesetzt werden. Damit verbinden sich in der Neuzeit in der Regel sendungsideologische Rechtfertigungsdoktrinen, die auf der Überzeugung der Kolonialherren von ihrer eigenen kulturellen Höherwertigkeit beruhen.”  Duchet, Anthropologie et Histoire, especially 18.

20

Introduction

in the second half of the eighteenth century.⁵⁴ Her thesis was one of the first to spark a controversy over the relationship between the Enlightenment and colonialism. As a rule, scholars of the Enlightenment see the eighteenth century as the era of the dawning of modernity, even though they do so in different and often contradictory ways. The “Enlightenment” has always been a polemical construct based on a notion of modernity and progress. Already in the eighteenth century, the idea of the “Siècle des Lumières” went hand in hand with a programme of civilising by means of the “philosophie moderne”. French academics had developed this concept in the early eighteenth century, on the basis of a narrative of progress, in order to claim that they had a crucial social, even world-historical role to play. In the nineteenth century, the equation of the Age of Enlightenment with the eighteenth century was widely accepted. This fixing of the epoch took place in an equally polemical context, because since the French Revolution, the Enlightenment has been constructed as both a positive and a negative lieu de mémoire. Yet admirers and critics of the Enlightenment together advocated the thesis that the “philosophy” of the eighteenth century had ushered in the French Revolution and, after that, modernity.⁵⁵ Scholarship continued along these lines in the twentieth century, with positive images of the Enlightenment clearly dominating. The mainstream saw the Enlightenment as an era of liberation from religious dogma and of struggle against the fossilised Ancien Régime, and as a movement that promoted tolerance, human rights and democracy.⁵⁶ The images of the non-European world that the Enlightenment philosophes developed were explored in a similarly normative way. For Paul Hazard, the increase in information from overseas was a powerful factor in challenging established truths.⁵⁷ As late as the 1970s, the history of anthropology in the eighteenth century, despite all the racism, was often written as a history of progress through emancipation from religious views of the

 Ibid., 53, 97, 117 f., 129, 131, 213, 218.  Pečar, Andreas/Damien Tricoire, Falsche Freunde oder War die Aufklärung wirklich die Geburtsstunde der Moderne? Frankfurt/Main 2015, 11– 27.  Fabre, Joseph, Les Pères de la Révolution, de Bayle à Condorcet, Paris 1910; Hazard, Paul, La Crise de la conscience européenne, Paris 1953; Cassirer, Ernst, Die Philosophie der Aufklärung, 3rd ed., Tü bingen 1973; Gay, Peter, The Enlightenment. An Interpretation, 2 vols., New York 1966 – 1969; Israel, Jonathan I., A Revolution of Mind. Radical Enlightenment and the Intellectual Origins of Modern Democracy, Princeton 2010; Israel, Jonathan I., Democratic Enlightenment. Philosophy, Revolution, and Human Rights 1750 – 1790, Oxford 2011; Pečar/Tricoire, Falsche Freunde, 11– 27.  Hazard, La Crise de la conscience européenne.

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world.⁵⁸ Generally to this day, the increase in empirical knowledge that resulted from the work of the academies of science and from the large expeditions is emphasised. In the eighteenth century at the latest, the confrontation of old textual authorities with new empirical findings from overseas is said to have brought about a reconfiguration of European knowledge and sciences.⁵⁹ Many scholars think that information and ideas from overseas have helped Enlightenment philosophers not only to criticise European societies, but also to reflect critically on the activities of Europeans in the Americas, Africa and Asia. Guillaume-Thomas Raynal and Denis Diderot in particular are frequently regarded as precursors of modern anti-colonialism. In the past decades, the History of the Two Indies has become a key work of the so-called “Radical Enlightenment”, which is said to have resolutely advocated the modern ideas of equality and freedom in particular.⁶⁰ The emphasis on works such as the History of the Two Indies is partly a reaction to the critique of the Enlightenment that has been increasingly voiced by postmodernists since the 1980s. Connecting to the reflections of philosophers Carl Becker and Isaiah Berlin, who were retrospectively declared pioneers of postmodernism, rather than to Adorno and Horkheimer’s thesis of the dialectic of the Enlightenment, postcolonial studies formulated a new critique of the En-

 Krauss, Werner, Zur Anthropologie des 18. Jahrhunderts. Die Frü hgeschichte der Menschheit im Blickpunkt der Aufklärung, Frankfurt/Main 1978; Moravia, Sergio, Beobachtende Vernunft. Philosophie und Anthropologie in der Aufklärung, Frankfurt/Main 1972.  Gascoigne, John, Science in the Service of Empire. Joseph Banks, the British State and the Uses of Science in the Age of Revolution, Cambridge 1998; idem, The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia, Cambridge 2002. In the late twentieth century, historians debated contentiously to what extent and how quickly the discoveries of the sixteenth century led to a decline in the old classical and biblical authorities; see Elliott, John H., The Old World and the New, 1492 – 1650, Cambridge 1970; Grafton, Anthony, New Worlds, Ancient Texts. The Power of Tradition and the Shock of Discovery, Cambridge (Mass.) 1995, especially 1– 7. Regarding the eighteenth century, however, there seems to be a scholarly consensus that overseas empiricism challenged the old knowledge and gave rise to new scholarly disciplines. This hypothesis was developed for the areas of anthropology, world history and comparative religion; see Wokler, Robert, “Anthropology and Conjectural History in the Enlightenment”, in: Christopher Fox/Roy Porter/Robert Wokler (eds.), Inventing Human Science. Eighteenth-Century, Berkeley 1995, 31– 52; Nutz, Thomas, “Varietäten des Menschengeschlechts”. Die Wissenschaft vom Menschen in der Zeit der Aufklärung, Köln 2009; Hunt et al., The Book that Changed Europe.  Israel, Democratic Enlightenment, 413 – 442; Das, Sudipta, Myths and Realities of French Imperialism in India, 1763 – 1783, New York 1992, 25; Raynal, Guillaume-Thomas, La Bible des révolutions. Textes et citations extraits de l’histoire philosophique et politique des établissements et du commerce des européens dans les deux Indes, de Guillaume-Thomas Raynal, ed. Gilles Bancarel/François Paul Rossi, Millau 2013.

22

Introduction

lightenment.⁶¹ These authors equated the Enlightenment’s claim to progress with an “Enlightenment project” which existed in a “homogenizing and totalitarian discourse”, an “abstract and imperialist fiction” and the will to move against the diversity of the world.⁶² The core project of the Enlightenment was, so they claimed, the replacement of all local and traditional norms and all transcendental beliefs with supposedly universal notions of the rational. In this view, Enlightenment philosophy excluded other cultures.⁶³ In addition, since the 1970s, the emancipatory character of Enlightenment anthropology has been fundamentally questioned. Numerous scholars today emphasise the emergence of racist theories in the eighteenth century, and the Shoah is sometimes understood as a consequence of the Enlightenment.⁶⁴ Some researchers even claim that racism is an indispensable part of eighteenth-century philosophy  Becker, Carl L., The Heavenly City of Eighteenth-Century Philosophers, New Haven 1932; Berlin, Isaiah, The Crooked Timber of Humanity. Chapters in the History of Ideas, London 1990; Horkheimer, Max/Theodor Adorno, Dialektik der Aufklärung. Philosophische Fragmente, Amsterdam 1947; Wilson, Susan, “Postmodernism and the Enlightenment”, in: Martin Fitzpatrick/Christa Knellwolf/Iain McCalman (eds.), The Enlightenment World, London 2004, 648 – 659; Carey, Daniel/Lynn Festa, “Introduction. Some Answers to the Question: ‘What is Postcolonial Enlightenment?’” In: Daniel Carrey/Lynn Festa (eds.), Postcolonial Enlightenment. Eighteenth-century Colonialism and Postcolonial Theory, Oxford 2009, 1– 33.  Gray, John, “After the new Liberalism”, in: idem, Enlightenment’s Wake. Politics and Culture at the Close of the Modern Age, New York 1995, 120 – 131, 120 – 124; Ghachem, Malick W., “Montesquieu in the Caribbean. The Colonial Enlightenment between Code Noir and Code civil”, in: Daniel Gordon (ed.), Postmodernism and the Enlightenment. New Perspectives in Eighteenth-Century French Intellectual History, New York 2001, 7– 30, here 7; Wokler, Robert, “Projecting the Enlightenment”, in: John Horton/Susan Mendus (eds.), After MacIntyre, Notre Dame 1994, 108 – 126; MacIntyre, After Virtue.  Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty, A Critique of Postcolonial Reason. Towards a History of the Vanishing Present, Cambridge 2000. Mehta refers primarily to the utilitarians of the early nineteenth century but sees the roots of liberal strategies of exclusion already in Locke; see Mehta, Uday, “Liberal Strategies of Exclusion”, in: Frederick Cooper/Ann Laura Stoler (eds.), Tensions of Empire. Colonial Cultures in a Bourgeois World, Berkeley 1997, 59 – 86; Mehta, Uday, Liberalism and Empire. A Study in Nineteenth-Century British Liberal Thought, Chicago 1999.  Mosse, George, Toward the Final Solution: A History of European Racism, New York 1978; Popkin, Richard H., “The Philosophical Basis of Modern Racism”, in: Harold E. Pagliaro (ed.), Racism in the Eighteenth Century, Cleveland 1973, 245 – 262; Boulle, Pierre, “In Defense of Slavery. Eighteenth-century Opposition to Slavery and the Origins of Racist Ideology in France”, in: Frederick Krantz (ed.), History from Below, Oxford 1988, 219 – 246; Bernasconi, Robert, “Kant as an Unfamiliar Source of Racism”, in: Julie K. Ward/Tommy L. Lott (eds.), Philosophers on Race. Critical Essays, Oxford 2002, 145 – 166; Valls, Andrew (ed.), Race and Racism in Modern Philosophy, Ithaca 2005; Eigen, Sara/Mark Larrimore, The German Invention of Race, Albany 2006; Sebastiani, Silvia, The Scottish Enlightenment. Race, Gender, and the Limits of Progress, New York 2013.

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and that the Enlightenment has formulated its universals on racist assumptions.⁶⁵ The limits of the Enlightenment struggle against slavery are also emphasised.⁶⁶ Finally, Edward Said’s thesis, according to which the Europeans have constructed a passive, immobile orient, also had an impact on Enlightenment studies, even though Said himself located the emergence of imperialist Orientalism as late as around 1800. During the eighteenth century particularly within Europe, with the help of Enlightenment concepts, borders were drawn between “progressive” and “backward” regions, between “civilisation” and “barbarism”.⁶⁷ Hence, some researchers claim that modern colonialism has its ideological roots in the Enlightenment. The Enlightenment thinkers, so they argue, had made European reason absolute and had infantilised non-European peoples. They pronounced them backward and declared the European model to be the only authoritative one.⁶⁸ In a postmodern interpretation, Condorcet, whose remains were ceremonially transferred to the Pantheon in 1989 thanks to the role assigned to him as a pioneer of the rights of “black” slaves and women, mutates into an imperialist.⁶⁹ Such theses have provoked controversy, some of which has been impassioned. In Germany, it was primarily Jürgen Osterhammel who sided with the Enlightenment thinkers. According to him, the philosophes of the eighteenth century viewed Asia in a more nuanced way and certainly not through a colonialist lens. They did not construct the “Asian” as radically different. The Enlightenment critique of colonialism, according to Osterhammel, refutes “the assertion that European intellectuals were capable of nothing but autistic narcissism and  Eze, Emmanuel Chukwudi, Race and the Enlightenment. A Reader, Cambridge 1997.  Sala-Molins, Louis, Les Misères des Lumières. Sous la raison, l’outrage. Essai, Paris 1992.  Said, Edward, Orientalism, London 1978; Wolff, Larry, Inventing Eastern Europe. The Map of Civilisation in the Mind of Enlightenment, Stanford 2000. For criticism of Wolff’s thesis, see Struck, Bernhard, “Von Sachsen nach Polen und Frankreich. Die Erfindung ‘Osteuropas’ im Spiegel deutscher Reiseberichte um 1800”, in: Comparativ. Zeitschrift fü r Globalgeschichte und vergleichende Gesellschaftsforschung 3 (2004), 125 – 143; Struck, Bernhard, Nicht West – nicht Ost. Frankreich und Polen in der Wahrnehmung deutscher Reisender zwischen 1750 und 1850, Göttingen 2006; Bömelburg, Hans-Jü rgen, “‘Polnische Wirtschaft’. Zur internationalen Genese und Realitätshaltigkeit der Stereotypie der Aufklärung”, in: Hans-Jü rgen Bömelburg (ed.), Der Fremde im Dorf. Überlegungen zum Eigenen und zum Fremden in Geschichte, Lü neburg 1998, 231– 248; Orłowski, Hubert, Polnische Wirtschaft. Zum deutschen Polendiskurs der Neuzeit, Wiesbaden 1996. In her chronology, Todorova is closer to Said than to Wolff; see Todorova, Maria, Imagining the Balkans, New York 1997.  Spivak, A Critique of Postcolonial Reason.  For Condorcet as an anti-imperialist, see Muthu, Sankar, Enlightenment Against Empire, Princeton 2003, 2; Pitts, Jennifer, A Turn to Empire. The Rise of Imperial Liberalism in Britain and France, Princeton 2005, 1; for Condorcet as an imperialist, see Carey/Festa, “Introduction”, 1.

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Introduction

had become hopelessly caught up in complicity with power since the beginning of the age of expansion”. In Osterhammel’s opinion, European writings on Asia only took on an imperialist character around 1800.⁷⁰ Unlike Osterhammel, most of today’s scholars who reject postcolonial criticism do not claim to defend the entire Enlightenment. Rather, they focus on individual authors of the eighteenth century, who are considered radical, i. e. who, in contrast to the majority, defended the ideal of human rights. Sankar Muthu believes that some of the philosophers of this time held precisely those ideas whose absence the postcolonial critics deplore. Diderot and Kant, for example, would basically have granted “cultural agency” to any human being, rejected the worldwide spread of European civilisation and developed a critique of colonialism.⁷¹ Thus, in the field of research on the “Enlightenment and colonialism” as in other fields of research on the Enlightenment, a tendency to divide the period into a moderate and a radical part may be observed in answer to postmodern criticism, whereby only the radical part is taken to have laid the intellectual foundations of modern democracies.⁷² The concomitant assignment of individual philosophers to one camp or the other has been criticised as “pigeonhole logic”.⁷³ Yet, research on the Enlightenment still concentrates on the “radical” authors and, based on these eminent cases, seeks to criticise the generalisations that hide behind the accusations and concepts of postmodern authors.⁷⁴ In summary, one may observe that postcolonial criticism undoubtedly deserves credit for having drawn attention to chapters in the intellectual history of the eighteenth century that had no place in the master narrative of an emancipatory Enlightenment. Nevertheless, in today’s research, four deficiencies may be identified. First, both critics and defenders of the Enlightenment tend to select

 Osterhammel, Die Entzauberung Asiens (quotation p. 67).  Muthu, Enlightenment against Empire.  Israel, Jonathan I., Radical Enlightenment. Philosophy and the Making of Modernity 1650 – 1750, Oxford 2001; Israel, Jonathan I., Enlightenment contested. Philosophy, Modernity, and the Emancipation of Man 1670 – 1752, Oxford 2006; Israel, Democratic Enlightenment; Knott, Sarah/Barbara Taylor, “General Introduction”, in: Barbara Taylor/Sarah Knott (eds.), Women, Gender, and Enlightenment, London 2007, XV–XXI.  La Vopa, Anthony, “A New Intellectual History? Jonathan Israel’s Enlightenment”, in: The Historical Journal 52 (2009), 717– 738; Moyn, Samuel, “Mind the Enlightenment”, in: The Nation (published May 2010), URL:http://www.thenation.com/article/mind-enlightenment (last accessed October 22, 2013).  Wokler, “Projecting the Enlightenment”; Carey, Daniel/Sven Trakulhun, “Universalism, Diversity, and the Postcolonial Enlightenment”, in: Daniel Carrey/Lynn Festa (eds.), Postcolonial Enlightenment. Eighteenth-Century Enlightenment, Oxford 2009, 240 – 280; Carey/Festa, “Introduction”, 1 f.

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individual authors and writings on the basis of a normative premise that usually remains implicit so as to prove, in a circular argument, that “the Enlightenment” was colonialist or that “the radical Enlightenment” was anti-colonialist. Second, the “philosophical” writings tend to be insufficiently contextualised. Often, excerpts are studied detached from the text as a whole; the intentions and claims associated with the texts often remain untold. Third, some scholars postulate a connection between the intellectual history and colonialism without examining the significance and relevance of the said discourses in the respective imperial social and political contexts beyond individual “philosophical” texts. Research usually remains on the level of the classical history of ideas, without using archival studies to shed light on the connections between intellectual, political and social history. Fourth, scholars often postulate lines of continuity between the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth centuries all too quickly and without having first proven them empirically. Many follow the premise that there was such a thing as “modernity”, yet they rarely define what they mean by it. This book takes inspiration from postcolonial studies in that it examines the construction of the self and the Other, reads the archives as repositories of fictional narratives and “provincialises” Europe.⁷⁵ Such approaches suit the case studied here particularly well because the writings of the French about the Great Island and their experience on the ground there had a strong utopian dimension. In relation to Madagascar, there was in part a “continuum” between the written and the practised utopia.⁷⁶ However, in some essential respects, this study arrives at different conclusions from at least some of the postcolonial studies mentioned above. First, in the case of Madagascar, it is not true that the Enlightenment established (rational) rule; rather, it was only the fantasy of a rule, a dream based on assumptions the rationality of which may be questioned. Those who criticise the Enlightenment for having helped instrumental reason to triumph run the risk of adopting uncritically the self-fashioning of Enlightenment writers as champions of reason. Second, it does not seem productive to consider imperialism, or racism, as an essential part of the Enlightenment, as it makes no sense to speak of an essence of the Enlightenment. Instead, authors who took on the role of Enlightenment philosophers will be considered actors who mobilised certain images so as to formulate political and social claims. Whether these included racial, or racist, concepts will first need to be verified. Third, this means that even though this book shows that there was a “late En-

 This study borrows from Said, Orientalism; Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe; Stoler, Along the Archival Grain.  Zatorska, Discours colonial, 15.

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Introduction

lightenment Madagascar discourse”, it does not aim to write a classical history of discourse. The latter has made terms such as “discourse” and “epistemes” its guiding categories and thus sketched the image of a power of discourse that, though not clearly emanating from agents, conditions human lives.⁷⁷ This study, in contrast, starts with actors whose speech acts it examines and does not declare discourses to be agents of history. Fourth, this monograph distances itself from the tendency to equate knowledge, or discourse, with power. Such a rather generalising view must be countered by the fact that knowledge and discourses were plural; they were instrumentalised in many different ways and often proved dysfunctional for the establishment of rule. In various respects, this study seeks to distinguish itself from the investigations of apologists and critics of the Enlightenment. It does not define and essentialise the Enlightenment on the basis of certain ideas, a process which might imply anachronisms. Enlightenment thinkers include those actors who, thanks to philosophy, publicly proclaimed themselves pioneers against superstition and in favour of moral improvement. Accordingly, the Enlightenment is understood here as a concept based on a historical narrative⁷⁸ invented in the eighteenth century for the purpose of publicly formulating new claims and, consequently, establishing philosophical authority. Different groups of actors in the imperial context could lean on such claimed authority to demand for themselves a leading role in society and politics. Furthermore, this study does not present the Enlightenment period as the birth of modernity but aims to historicise more strongly the discourses of the second half of the eighteenth century. It compares the colonial knowledge and discourses of the eighteenth century with those of the seventeenth and early nineteenth centuries so as to identify continuities, ruptures and era-specific particularities. Lastly, the aim here is to build a bridge between the history of politics and the history of ideas. It is also crucial to include ministerial archival sources in addition to the classic sources of the intellectual history as they allow insight into the development of projects as well as discussions and decisions on colonial policy. Only in so doing can one understand how a certain knowledge established itself, that is by which media, personal networks, administrative practices and on the basis of which

 This line of research can be traced back to Foucault, for example in Foucault, Michel, Histoire de la folie à l’âge classique. Folie et déraison, Paris 1961; Foucault, Michel, Les Mots et les Choses. Une archéologie des sciences humaines, Paris 1966; Foucault, Michel, L’Ordre du discours, Paris 1971; Foucault, Michel, Surveiller et punir. Naissance de la prison, Paris 1975; Foucault, Michel, Histoire de la sexualité, 3 vols., Paris 1977– 1984.  Edelstein, Dan, The Enlightenment. A Genealogy, Chicago 2010.

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normative assumptions. In other words, the “epistemic setting” – the web of conditions of knowledge – of the French Ministry of the Navy will be examined. Such a historicising understanding of the Enlightenment is meant to normalise the eighteenth century in some measure and to remove it from the prominent place it has in the normative narratives about modernity. However, this monograph will not dispense entirely with any periodisation. On the contrary, the question runs through the entire book as to whether the late Enlightenment represents a specific era both in French colonial history and in the histories of ideas and knowledge, and which characteristics of this period can be identified. With this question in mind, it will take a critical look at several well-established and traditionally-anchored patterns of interpretation regarding the intellectual history and the history of knowledge of the early modern era and the period around 1800. First, in contrast to the direction of research influenced by Said’s classic Orientalism, the focus will not be on the construction of Otherness but on that of similarity within the framework of assimilationism, and the question will be asked how this affected the perception, or non-perception, of Malagasy knowledge. The history of French colonialism is marked by the periodic recurrence of an assimilationist ideology, which foregrounded conformity between the (would-be) colonial master and the (potential) colonised. The history of this discourse has not yet been comprehensively studied, precisely because research so far has concentrated on Othering.⁷⁹ Second, it is important to examine critically the frequent association of the Enlightenment with secularisation, understood either as the decline of the Christian religion or as a growing separation between religion and politics. Scholarship has long considered the core of the Enlightenment to be the “disenchantment” of the worldview and the critique of religious dogma, and this research tradition continues.⁸⁰ In contrast, some recent studies emphasise the vitality of the Christian denominations in the eighteenth century and the Enlightenment’s many faces, including religious ones.⁸¹ Within the framework of this

 For initial approaches, see Belmessous, Assimilation and Empire.  Important works in this research tradition include Hazard, La Crise de la conscience; Gay, The Enlightenment (e. g. vol. 1, p. 37); Israel, A Revolution of Mind; Israel, Democratic Enlightenment; Jacob, Margaret, The Secular Enlightenment, Princeton 2019.  Sheehan, Jonathan, “Enlightenment, Religion, and the Enigma of Secularization”, in: The American Historical Review 108/4 (2003), 1061– 1080; Pocock, J. G. A., “Historiography and Enlightenment. A View of their History”, in: Modern Intellectual History 5/1 (2008), 83 – 96; Lehner, Ulrich L., “The Many Faces of Enlightenment”, in: Ulrich L. Lehner/Michael Printy (eds.), A Com-

28

Introduction

study, Carl Becker’s thesis, according to which the core ideas of the Enlightenment remained within the old Christian framework of thought, is pivotal. The idea of the “Lumières” or “Enlightenment” itself originated in the religious sphere, and the eighteenth-century belief in progress may be seen as a variant of the Christian history of salvation.⁸² Madagascar will serve as an example to examine the extent to which these results may be applied to the field of eighteenth-century colonial political concepts and discourses. Third, the present study aims to distance itself from the older narrative that sees the Enlightenment as a struggle against the “Ancien Régime”. Before 1789, the “Ancien Régime” had not yet been invented. The Enlightenment thinkers did not fight against the political system as outsiders. Rather, most of the prominent authors were close to certain courtiers or court parties. They often held offices of state and at court, and some even acted as propagandists for colonial administrators, ministers and court nobles.⁸³ The aim here is to understand how this constellation played out in the fields of colonial politics and in the discourse on Madagascar. Fourth, this study is directed against the tendency to view the eighteenth century as one marked by the emergence of “modern science” or, at least, an increase in knowledge. The history of knowledge is often implicitly equated with the history of science. Historiography emphasises lively scientific production, new methods of knowledge acquisition and the global circulation of knowledge thanks to the transoceanic reach of scholarly networks. The monographs on the history of knowledge in the colonial world preferably focus on intellectual achievements that still arouse a certain admiration in readers today, even though the theories of the time have long since ceased to be valid, and served in part as instruments of colonial rule.⁸⁴ A substantial part of the research literature on the production of knowledge by missionaries, especially the Jesuits, or by great ex-

panion to the Catholic Enlightenment in Europe, Leiden 2010, 1– 61; Sorkin, David, The Religious Enlightenment. Protestants, Jews, and Catholics from London to Vienna, Princeton 2008.  Becker, Heavenly City; Löwith, Karl, Weltgeschichte und Heilsgeschehen. Die theologischen Voraussetzungen der Geschichtsphilosophie, Stuttgart 1973 [1st edition: Stuttgart 1953]; Pečar/Tricoire, Falsche Freunde, 11– 62.  Edelstein, The Enlightenment, 90; Pečar/Tricoire, Falsche Freunde, 173 – 181.  See, for example, Gascoigne, Science in the Service of Empire; idem, The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia; McClellan, James E., Colonialism and Science. Saint Domingue in the Old Regime, Baltimore 1992. For a postmodern critique of Western science as an instrument of colonial domination, see Prakash, Gayn, Another Reason. Science and Imagination of Modern India, Princeton 1999.

History of Knowledge and of the Enlightenment

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peditions move in this direction.⁸⁵ In addition, there are studies that criticise the Eurocentric narrative of the birth of modern science and that demonstrate the importance of intercultural encounters in the emergence of new scientific knowledge.⁸⁶ Yet while the history of science is decentred, it does not call into question the focus on the emergence of “modern science”. “Knowledge”, traditionally associated with “truth”, remains a term with positive connotations. In quite a few studies of the history of knowledge, a normative decisive factor often still seems to exist implicitly, even though historians today agree that knowledge must not be confused with truth⁸⁷ and that the history of science must not be written as an advancement towards finding the truth.⁸⁸ Following Luckmann and Berger, knowledge in this monograph is defined as “the certainty that phenomena are real and that they possess specific characteristics”.⁸⁹ The case of the knowledge about Madagascar during the late Enlightenment is also relevant because it runs counter to the selection bias implicit in parts of the research as it is not at all a kind of knowledge that arouses admiration today, that has endured in the long term, or that appears scientific in the modern sense. Moreover, this book is a history of knowledge rather than a history of science. It takes inspiration from the more recent history  For the production of knowledge by the Jesuits, see Burgaleta, Claudio, José de Acosta, SJ. His Life and Thought, Chicago 1999, esp. 73 – 95; Ewalt, Margaret R., “The Legacy of Joseph Gumilla’s Orinoco Enlightened”, in: Bernier, Marc André/Clorinda Donato/Hans-Jü rgen Lü sebrink (eds.), Jesuit Accounts of the Colonial Americas. Intercultural Transfers, Intellectual Disputes, and Textualities, Toronto 2014, 344– 373; Fendler, Ute, “Changing Perspectives. The Other, the Self, the In-Between of the Jesuit Experience in the Eighteenth Century”, in: Bernier, Marc André/Clorinda Donato/Hans-Jü rgen Lü sebrink (eds.), Jesuit Accounts of the Colonial Americas. Intercultural Transfers, Intellectual Disputes, and Textualities, Toronto 2014, 219 – 242; Motsch, Andreas, Lafitau et l’émergence du discours ethnographique, Sillery 2001; Hsia, A Jesuit in the Forbidden City. For the great expeditions, see, for example, Pimentel, Juan, La fisica de la monarquía. Ciencia y política en el pensamiento de Alejandro Malaspina (1754 – 1810), Madrid 1998; Pons, Anne, La Pérouse, Paris 2010.  Raj, Kapil, Relocating Modern Science. Circulation and the Construction of Knowledge in South Asia and Europe, 1650 – 1900, Basingstoke 2007; Bala, Arun, The Dialogue of Civilizations in the Birth of Modern Science, New York 2010; Roberts, Lissa, “Re-orienting the transformation of knowledge in Dutch expansion. Nagasaki as a centre of accumulation and management”, in: Susanne Friedrich/Arndt Brendecke/Stefan Ehrenpreis (eds.), Transformations of Knowledge in Dutch Expansion, Berlin 2015, 19 – 42.  Regarding the definitions with which the research operates, see Landwehr, Achim, “Das Sichtbare sichtbar machen. Annäherungen an ‘Wissen’ als Kategorie historischer Forschung”, in: Achim Landwehr (ed.), Geschichte(n) der Wirklichkeit. Beiträge zur Sozial- und Kulturgeschichte des Wissens, Augsburg 2002, 61– 89, 62 f.  Kuhn, Thomas S., Die Struktur wissenschaftlicher Revolutionen, Frankfurt/Main 1973, 15 – 24.  Luckmann/Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, 1.

30

Introduction

of knowledge which investigates the techniques and procedures of the acquisition, authentication, stabilisation and administration of knowledge. Above all, the question from which media, text genres, texts and in which institutions the French elite gained their information about Madagascar will be explored as well as the criteria they used to judge the credibility of these sources. This examination may also be linked to the study of scientific “moral economies”;⁹⁰ in this sense, the aim is to explore the normative foundations of knowledge production. In accordance with recent scholarship in the history of knowledge, it is important to distance oneself from the narrative of an accumulation of knowledge. This study aims to consider the temporal ruptures in the history of knowledge which made the gradual collection of information about the Great Island impossible. The seminal work of Thomas Kuhn has shown that the assumption of an accumulation of knowledge is problematic. Kuhn suggests that the history of science is basically the history of one paradigm replacing another, so that earlier results are considered unscientific after the scientific revolutions.⁹¹ Even if we consider Kuhn’s claim going too far, it reminds us that we should not neglect the ruptures in the history of knowledge. Arndt Brendecke, too, cautions against considering the documents produced for the administration as “the knowledge” of the administration, because usually, they quickly disappeared into the archives where they were stored unused for centuries. It was often only the historians who thought they discovered operative state knowledge in these documents.⁹² Finally, in addition to the temporal ruptures, the spatial ruptures should not be forgotten. The research focus on the global circulation of knowledge⁹³ runs the risk of ignoring the fact that knowledge generally did not migrate from one continent to another. Our idea of a globalisation of knowledge in the premodern era may also result in part from certain selection biases. While on the Great Island, knowledge did indeed circulate between the Malagasy and the French, it did so only to a limited extent between the Indian Ocean and Europe. This book aims to explore why this was so. Closely linked to the fourth objective is the intention to question the assumption, common in research until now, that knowledge production and imperial ex-

 Daston, “The Moral Economy of Science”.  Kuhn, Die Struktur wissenschaftlicher Revolutionen, 15 – 24.  Brendecke, Arndt, Imperium und Empirie. Funktionen des Wissens in der spanischen Kolonialherrschaft, Köln/Weimar/Wien 2009, 11– 28.  See, e. g., Steiner, Colberts Afrika.

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pansion were mutually supportive.⁹⁴ Since the 1990s, historians of the British Empire have been examining the history of colonial knowledge to explain the imposition of European rule overseas, especially in India.⁹⁵ In the past ten years or so, specialists in French history have also been studying more intensively than before the production of information by the French state apparatus, and they generally paint a positive picture of an effective government machine.⁹⁶ For the French colonial empire, François Regourd and James McClellan in particular have examined the undoubtedly impressive network of scientific institutions in the plantation colonies and christened it “the colonial machine”. According to them, this well-oiled “machine” produced knowledge that was useful for colonial expansion.⁹⁷ This way of writing the history of knowledge has a long tradition. It was not only the postmodern authors a few decades ago who discovered a connection between the production of knowledge and power as already in the early modern period, scholars like Francis Bacon claimed that their scientific activities were useful for the expansion and consolidation of state power.⁹⁸ In recent years, however, some scholars have revised the thesis that knowledge is to be equated with power. These historians point to the diverse functions

 For an overview of research that follows the postulate that knowledge production and imperial expansion were mutually supportive, see Charles, Loïc/Paul Cheney, “The Colonial Machine Dismantled. Knowledge and Empire in the French Atlantic”, in: Past and Present 219 (2013), 127– 163, especially 128 – 130. In addition to the publications mentioned by Charles and Cheney, also see Steiner, Benjamin, Colberts Afrika. Eine Wissens- und Begegnungsgeschichte in Afrika im Zeitalter Ludwigs XIV., Mü nchen 2014.  Cohn, Bernhard S., Colonialism and its Forms of Knowledge. The British in India, Princeton 1996; Baber, Zaheer, The Science of Empire. Scientific Knowledge, Civilization and Colonial Rule in India, Albany 1996; Bayly, Christopher A., Empire and Information. Intelligence Gathering and Social Communication in India, 1780 – 1870, Cambridge 1996; Dirks, Nicholas B., “The Policing of Tradition. Colonialism and Anthropology in Southern India”, in: Comparative Studies in Society and History 39/1 (1997), 182– 212; Drayton, Richard, “Knowledge and Empire”, in: P. J. Marshall (ed.), The Oxford History of the British Empire, vol. 2: The Eighteenth century, Oxford 1998, 231– 252; Drayton, Richard, Nature’s Government. Science, Imperial Britain, and the Improvement of the World, New Haven 2000; MacLeod, Roy (ed.), Nature and Empire. Science and the Colonial Enterprise, Chicago 2000; Headrick, Power over Peoples.  Soll, Jacob, The Information Master. Jean-Baptiste Colbert’s Secret State Intelligence System, Ann Arbor 2011; Headrick, Daniel R., When Information Came of Age. Technologies of Knowledge in the Age of Reason and Revolution, 1700 – 1850, Oxford 2000; Rule, J. C./Ben S. Trotter, A World of Paper. Louis XIV, Colbert de Torcy, and the rise of the information state, Montreal/Kingston/ London/Ithaca 2014.  McClellan, James E./François Regourd, “The Colonial Machine. French Science and Colonization in the Ancien Régime”, in: Roy MacLeod (ed.), Nature and Empire. Science and the Colonial Enterprise (Osiris 15/1 [2000]), Chicago (Ill.) 2000, 31– 50.  Shapin, Steven, The Scientific Revolution, Chicago 1996, 123 – 135.

32

Introduction

of knowledge production, the frequently occurring dysfunctionality of knowledge from the point of view of political officials, and the autonomy of knowledge producers who certainly did not always act in the interests of the state.⁹⁹ Some studies emphasise that the efficiency of colonial information gathering should not be overestimated.¹⁰⁰ In line with this scholarship, Loïc Charles and Paul Cheney cast doubt on the model of a “colonial machine” in relation to the French colonial empire. They see three problems. First, the Ministry of the Navy would hardly have been able to process all the information it received. For that reason alone, most of the memoranda were archived without being heeded. Second, the knowledge produced was not infrequently inconvenient for the government and therefore deliberately disregarded in the decision-making process. Third, informal relations of patronage at the royal court often played a greater role in the production of knowledge than institutional channels.¹⁰¹ The present study draws on such debates. To date, little research has been conducted on the production of knowledge in the frontier regions of the early modern French colonial Empire. Regourd, McClellan, Charles and Cheney primarily refer to well-established plantation colonies. Yet, it was precisely in regions where only a few French military personnel, civil servants and traders were present that the central administration needed basic information about the country’s production, its geography, its peoples and political conditions. Frontier regions are therefore particularly well suited to test the efficiency of knowledge production and to explore its mechanisms. This study pays special attention to ethnographic and political knowledge. As in the essay by Charles and Cheney, the aim of this monograph is to examine the model according to which the expansion of knowledge and the colonial expansion were mutually supportive. It also emphasises the role of relationships of patronage and the fact that knowledge production by no means always had the function of promoting imperial expansion. However, the argument here differs from that of Charles and Cheney in one crucial point: it contends that the information communicated to the Ministry of the Navy was, in fact, often taken

 Brauner et al., “Information als Kategorie historischer Forschung”; Brendecke, Imperium and Empirie, 11– 28; Friedrich, Markus, Die Geburt des Archivs. Eine Wissensgeschichte, Mü nchen 2013, 15 f.  Silvestri, Michael, “The Thrill of ‘Simply Dressing Up’. The Indian Police, Disguise, and Intelligence Work in Colonial India”, in: Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History 2/2 (2001), URL: http://muse.jhu.edu/article/7378 (last accessed January 17, 2018). Literature overview on this in Ballantyne, Tony, “Colonial Knowledge”, in: Sarah Stockwell (ed.), The British Empire. Themes and Perspectives, Malden (Mass.) 2008, 177– 197, 188 f.  Charles/Cheney, “The Colonial Machine Dismantled”.

Structure and Arguments

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into account. It is not true, for example, that memoranda were generally archived without being considered further, or that archived documents remained unused. Yet this did not increase the rationality of decision-making. On the contrary, institutions such as the Ministry of the Navy produced their own knowledge which was not simply an amalgamation of the knowledge of actors from overseas. Institutions had access to certain kinds of information and points of view only, indeed they gave prompts that led to only some kinds of information and opinion being presented to them. Here, the thesis is advanced that the unrealistic Madagascar plans were not a derailment but were related to fundamental problems in the epistemic setting of the Ministry of the Navy, which had to do with the normative foundation of knowledge, its functions and the techniques of information acquisition. In other words, even when the “colonial machine” was working well, it tended to generate dreams.

Structure and Arguments The study is divided into two parts. The first part looks at the history of French policy and settlements in Madagascar from the seventeenth to the early nineteenth century, as well as at French-Malagasy encounters and interrelations. The focus will be on the local actors, their plans, strategies, interpretations, demands, self-fashionings and narratives. The second part is concerned with researching the history of knowledge about Madagascar in a systematic way. I will analyse why a certain discourse on Madagascar that was influenced by the late Enlightenment could prevail. The first chapter introduces the history of Madagascar and of the Europeans on the island before the 1640s. The aim is to outline the political, social and religious structures of Malagasy societies, to locate the Great Island in the history of globalisation(s), to determine the place of Europeans in Malagasy history before the arrival of the French, and to give an overview of their colonisation efforts and failures during this period. The second chapter looks at the French colonisation efforts in the seventeenth century that lasted over thirty years and the history of the settlement of the Compagnie des Indes on Nosy Boraha (Fr. SainteMarie) in the middle of the eighteenth century. Here, the reasons for the French failures will be analysed and the patterns of interpretation offered by historiography to date called into question. It will be shown that this history is not a chapter in colonial history. The third chapter examines the history of the settlement at Fort-Dauphin under the Comte de Maudave, the first French colonisation attempt after the Seven Years War. It investigates the reasons for the failure of this colonial project

34

Introduction

and examines the patterns of interpretation that date back to the colonial period and still form the basis of historical accounts today. The thesis put forward here sees the failure of the colonisation attempts not in a lack of support by the colonial administration in the Indian Ocean, but rather in the exaggerated expectations of the French regarding both the island and themselves. It will be shown, among other things, that even before Maudave, fundamental mistakes were made in trade policy, that the agricultural and commercial plans were unrealistic given local conditions, and that due to medical theories prevalent at the time, tropical diseases in some parts of the Great Island were underestimated. The fourth chapter addresses two themes. First, it looks at Maudave’s political strategies towards the Malagasy (or rather the lack of any realistic strategy), analyses French-Malagasy relations and examines the reasons for the mistakes made by the governor of Fort-Dauphin. The chapter then looks at Maudave’s reactions when his expectations were disappointed; within this framework, his writing strategies and those of his subordinate Valgny are analysed. It will be demonstrated how, paradoxically, in the face of failure, a discourse about success emerged. Maudave consistently held out the prospect of a “soft” expansion through the civilising and assimilation of the “barbarians”, even though his daily experience showed that this project was not feasible. In initiating, as it were, an imaginary colonisation of Madagascar, he contributed decisively to the formation of an Enlightenment colonial imaginary that had an impact far beyond the Indian Ocean. After the end of Maudave’s term of office, this colonial imaginary evolved still further, as the following two chapters, which deal with his successor Beňovský, will show. In the fifth chapter, the tragic history of the Madagascar settlements under Beňovský is reconstructed. The sixth chapter shows how Beňovský used his pen as a weapon and how, in his writings, he gradually moved away from his sad experiences until finally, fusing report with literature, he wrote a kind of colonial novel. The seventh chapter examines the history of the French-Malagasy encounters between 1789 and 1817, the narratives produced by the actors in these encounters, and the French Madagascar policy of those years. It shows how the representative of the French National Assembly in Madagascar, Daniel Lescallier, embraced the imaginary world of “soft” colonisation. At the same time, a pluralisation of approaches to Madagascar policy took place during the revolutionary period that was due to British influences. Finally, during the Restoration, French elites abandoned the dream of a “soft” expansion on the Great Island. Instead, France established only a modest foothold on Sainte-Marie. The eighth chapter deals with the question of the extent to which the imaginary of Maudave, Beňovský and Lescallier initiated a new colonialist discourse

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in the French state apparatus. It reveals that the Madagascar images of these colonial actors not only inspired numerous authors of memoranda but also had a significant influence on colonial policy planning in the late eighteenth century. Even though the attempts at colonisation in Madagascar had failed across the board, the decision-makers in Versailles in the late eighteenth century at best learned from their mistakes for a brief period only. Until the early nineteenth century, the writing strategies of Maudave and Beňovský continued to shape directly, or indirectly, knowledge of Madagascar and consequently the assumptions on which Madagascar policy was based. The ninth chapter explores some of the consequences of this late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse. The new knowledge of Madagascar was also associated with a new kind of ignorance. The Madagascar discourse laid the foundations for a specific Enlightenment silencing, which, in contrast to Edward Said’s model, did not stem from “Othering” processes, but rather from attempts at “Saming”. Therefore, this chapter compares the narratives of the seventeenth century with those of the eighteenth century and concludes that the Enlightenment discourse led to the blanking out of numerous aspects of both French and Malagasy experiences and cultures, namely the violence, the going native of some Europeans, as well as the Malagasy worldviews and religious practices. The following two chapters of the study analyse the reasons for the establishment of a knowledge that, in retrospect, seems dysfunctional for a colonial expansion in Madagascar. The tenth chapter deals with developments in the intellectual history that led to the invention of the late Enlightenment knowledge of Madagascar, gave it a firm place in the worldview of the French elites and, at the same time, turned it into an instrument for the formulation of political claims. The chapter first introduces the main characteristics and problems of the history of imperial knowledge in the French colonial empire, namely the centralisation of the decision-making processes in Versailles and Paris which made the colonial administration dependent on certain media. It will then be shown that there was a close connection between the Enlightenment narrative – that is, the universalist narrative of progress of the second half of the eighteenth century – and the reception of seventeenth-century images of Madagascar, which had previously been rejected as unbelievable. As a result, the Madagascar discourse became a laboratory for the history of civilisation, even though the texts on Madagascar that had given such impulses remained unprinted for some time and came from the very periphery of the French colonial empire. The collaboration between philosophes and political decision-makers both overseas and in Paris – a collaboration influenced by the Enlightenment – favoured the emergence of new colonial policy objectives.

36

Introduction

The eleventh chapter explores the relations and communication between the authors of memoranda on Madagascar and the Ministry of the Navy by examining their social profile and their relations with each other. What emerges is that people with little or no experience of Madagascar wanted to embark on the risky undertaking of colonising the Great Island. In other words, adventurers were instrumental in establishing knowledge about the Red Island which, in retrospect, must be described as unrealistic. In contrast, people who were well acquainted with Malagasy societies and the language, in other words experts, were hardly listened to in Versailles. The dominant logic of knowledge production was neither bureaucratic nor scientific but followed the norms of courtly communication and patronage. It was precisely the Enlightenment character of the new knowledge of Madagascar that was an important condition for its use in clientelist relations. Finally, this chapter reflects on the memorandum as a medium and the consequences of the establishment of a new archive for memoranda. It shows how the genre of memoranda contributed to establishing the colonial dream and argues that the creation of a new archive strongly favoured the emergence of a self-referential discourse. In the final chapter, both the temporal and the geographical scope are greatly expanded. By contextualising the case of Madagascar in colonial history, the twelfth chapter asks in how far the 1760s marked a turning point in the history of French colonial politics and to what extent this turnaround was the foundation of modern colonialism. The colonial political upheavals following the Seven Years War ushered in a new era in French colonial history, especially through the adoption of missionary patterns of interpretation by state actors. Nevertheless, the question arises as to the way in which the principles of this time differed from those of the Grand Siècle, and to what extent they shaped the colonial policy of the period between 1830 and 1960.

Encountering and Narrating

1 Islamic and European Globalisations The engraving from the first half of the nineteenth century entitled “Picturesque France: Port Louis on the island of Sainte-Marie; view of the old monument commemorating the taking [of the island, D. T.]” (Fig. 2) shows a pyramid-shaped monument on a square plinth, between whose stones a tree grows, in the middle of a tropical landscape. Three men stand in the shadow of the monument. One of them, half-naked and dark-skinned, shows the venerable stones that have been overgrown by nature to the other two, who appear to be French. On the sunny side of the plinth gleams the coat of arms of the French kings. Depicted in the background is the bay of Port-Louquez, usually known today as the “Baie des forbans” (Bay of the Pirates), on Nosy Boraha, the Malagasy name of the island. The French flag flies at the entrance to the port, and the high mountains of the Great Island can be seen in the far distance. Aside from the romanticisation of the landscape (the artist took the liberty of depicting the landscape as much more mountainous than it is, just as the town in the bay, which contrasts with nature, is also pure invention), one may get a good impression of the former monument of the Compagnie des Indes. The engraving exudes a romantic atmosphere by presenting a witness from a past that has been taken over by nature, namely the remains of a colony of the Compagnie des Indes on Nosy Boraha, the island of Sainte-Marie off the east coast of Madagascar. In February 1819, the ruins of the former colony were also described by Petit de la Rhodière, a member of a French expedition to the north-east coast of Madagascar: On the small Île aux Cailles [today’s Îlot Madame, D. T.], several buildings remain which seem to have been constructed solidly: a cannon redoubt […]; a building which is said to have been a church; an oblong building that used to serve as a barracks; and a powder magazine. Opposite [the island, D. T.], to the north-east of the port on a hill, are the remains of a fort that looks like a pyramid with a square ground plan and a capped tip. On the top, there was a wooden gallery that rested on stones. One can still see the well-preserved coat of arms of the French king above that of the Compagnie des Indes and the date 1753. The flagpoles still resist the passage of time, even though they are overgrown by lianas on all sides.¹

 ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport sur quelques parties de Madagascar par M. Petit de la Rhodière”, 10 February 1819 (quotation p. 43): “Il reste sur la petite Ile aux Cayes plusieurs édifices qui paraissent avoir été construits très solidement: […] un batiment qu’on pense avoir été fait pour une Eglise, un long corps de logis pour casernes, et une poudrière. Vis à vis au NE du Port, et sur une Petite Eminence, il existe les reste [sic] d’un fort, qui a la forme d’une Pyramide quadrangulaire tronquée ; au haut il existait une galerie en bois que soutenait des https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-003

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1 Islamic and European Globalisations

Fig. 2: Picturesque France: Port Louis on the island of Sainte-Marie; view of the old monument commemorating the taking [of the island, D. T.].

The ruins on Nosy Boraha were not the only ones that the 1818 – 1819 expedition participants marvelled at in Madagascar. In Mahavelona (Fr. Foulpointe), another wrote, several stone walls, ditches and the remains of a wooden palisade could still be seen. In the half-abandoned Malagasy village nearby were the empty and dilapidated houses of French traders.² Also in the south-east of Madagascar, only ruins remained to testify to the former French colony. In Tôlanaro

pierres, on y voit encore bien conserves les armes de france, au dessus de celle de la compagnie des Indes, et la date 1753. Les mats résistent encore, malgré les liannes qui y ont poussé de toutes parts.”  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de Bréon, jardinier botaniste du roi, membre de la commission d’exploration de l’île de Sainte Marie en la côte est de Madagascar”, 20 January 1819, p. 9.

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(Fr. Fort-Dauphin), the French fort was nothing but “a heap of ruins, covered in ivy”.³ The poor state of the former Fort-Dauphin led the viewer from the early nineteenth century to think that the place had been abandoned after the massacre of the French by the inhabitants of the region in 1674.⁴ However, the buildings of the fort, which were still vaguely perceptible, were only erected in the early 1770s and abandoned in the late eighteenth century. The ruins of Nosy Boraha and Mahavelona were also the remains of buildings from the second half of the eighteenth century. All bore witness to the failed French colonialism of the Enlightenment period on the Great Island. Several colonial powers tried to gain a foothold in Madagascar in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. None, however, invested as much in building up colonies on the Great Island as the Kingdom of France. Again and again, the greatest hopes were projected on to Madagascar. Fortifications, storehouses, barracks, houses and churches were built, and thousands of soldiers and settlers were brought to the island. And yet, by 1818, the French had achieved nothing lasting. In 1796 and 1811 respectively, the last French posts in Madagascar, Mahavelona and Toamasina (Fr. Tamatave), were destroyed by English bombs. Though this latter town remained the most important port by far on the east coast, French-speaking subjects of the British Crown dominated its trade after 1815. It was not the French who ruled in Toamasina but Jean-René, a king of French-Malagasy origin and an ally of the British. In the previous year, he had had to recognise the overlordship of King Radama I,⁵ a prince of the Merina, a people from the highlands, who now took the title of “King of Madagascar”.

Colonial Failure Explained Thus, the history of early modern French attempts at colonial expansion in Madagascar is marked by complete failure, which, against the backdrop of the narratives of success widespread in scholarly literature, appears to need some explanation. In this chapter and the next, the question of how to tell the history of the French in the Indian Ocean will be discussed in relation to the French-Malagasy encounters up to 1763. Only a few years after the conquest of the Great  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de Frappaz”, 1 October 1819 (quotation p. 34): “un amas de ruines recouvert de lierres”.  Ibid.  Frappaz, Les Voyages du lieutenant de vaisseau Frappaz dans les mers des Indes, ed. Raymond Decary, Antananarive 1939, 138 – 141.

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Island by the French in the late nineteenth century, Arthur Malotet published a monograph on Étienne de Flacourt, the governor of Fort-Dauphin between 1648 and 1655, in whose efforts he saw the “origins of the French colonisation of Madagascar”.⁶ Malotet presented the French settlements of the early modern period as a prehistory of colonisation of the island. This narrative fulfilled two functions. First, the reference to the old colonies of the French legitimised the forcible annexation of the Great Island in the late nineteenth century. Malotet judged Flacourt’s military ventures positively, because he believed that through them, the natives had been persuaded to recognise the “indisputable” property rights of France in Madagascar.⁷ Second, and this aspect dominates Malotet’s book, France should also learn from Flacourt’s mistakes. The historian criticised the governor of Fort-Dauphin for seeking a purely military subjugation, without doing anything for the conquest of the hearts of the Malagasy, their civilising and evangelisation. It was for this reason, Malotet argued, that Flacourt’s achievements did not last. A policy of alliance with a local king and the civilising of the population would have made the incorporation of the Great Island into the French colonial empire an easy task.⁸ Malotet’s contemporary Henri Froidevaux made similar assumptions. For him, too, history had shown how to behave towards “indigenous people, who are subjected to our domination”.⁹ That is why he was concerned with judging the supposedly wise or unwise behaviour of historical actors. In one study, he reacted to the damning picture that Malotet had painted of Jacques Pronis, Flacourt’s predecessor and the founder of Fort-Dauphin. Froidevaux ranks Pronis and his contemporaries as pioneers of the French colonial empire as they were the first to show where France should establish its rule. The founder of Fort-Dauphin was not dishonourable, brutal or incompetent according to Froidevaux, but he had made mistakes once he was sure of his success. He had thought that he could do without an alliance with the natives and therefore had provoked conflicts with them. Towards the end of his term in office, however, he had regained the affection of the indigenous people but, unfortunately, no longer had time to complete the work of civilisation.¹⁰ As in Malotet, the history of French-Malagasy encounters in the seventeenth century appears as a kind of prelude to the colonisation of the modern period. In the opinion of historians

 “Les origines de la colonisation française à Madagascar”. Hence the subtitle of Malotet’s book, Étienne de Flacourt.  Malotet, Étienne de Flacourt, 289 f.: “droits indisputables”.  Ibid., 284– 298.  “[L]es indigènes soumis à notre domination”: Froidevaux, Jacques Pronis, 3.  Froidevaux, Jacques Pronis.

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around 1900, the subjects of Louis XIV failed because, unlike the colonial masters of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, they did not pursue a civilising policy. Alfred Grandidier, the father of Madagascar studies, followed this pattern of interpretation. In his monumental Histoire de Madagascar, Grandidier claimed that the French had had “substantial colonies” (“colonies considérables”) before they took “definitive” possession of the Great Island in 1895.¹¹ He listed French personalities who worked on the Red Island from the first half of the seventeenth century to the second half of the nineteenth. In doing so, Grandidier bypassed the stark discontinuities in the history of the French in Madagascar and constructed a narrative of an essentially uninterrupted French colonisation of the island which, however, only bore fruit in the late nineteenth century.¹² Towards the end of the colonial period, the historians’ accounts changed noticeably. Hubert Deschamps’ Histoire de Madagascar, published in 1960, the year of Madagascar’s independence, does not link the early modern attempts to modern colonisation. Rather, Deschamps tries to narrate the violent episodes of French-Malagasy encounters in the seventeenth century in a neutral way. However, in doing so, he largely follows the interpretations that the political actors of the early modern period themselves had put in print. In this way, the moral failings of the French governors and commanders denounced by contemporaries, jealousy and pride above all, play a major role in his study. According to Deschamps, however, the failure of the French was mainly due to the fact that they lacked a guiding idea. The East India Company had always wavered between the creation of a colony of settlers and the establishment of a trading station. For the former, a “merger” with the Malagasy should have been sought, and for the latter, better export products ought to have been found.¹³ Although Deschamps expresses no regret at the failure of the French and does not want to argue from history for a good method of colonisation, there is a certain continuity between his narrative and older accounts. It, too, is based on the assumption that the French could have created a colony of settlers through a policy of peaceful expansion. The historiography of the colonial period, from Malotet to Deschamps, has been critical of the actions and strategies of the French in the seventeenth century. Nevertheless, in its critique, it adopted, of all things, the ideas of early modern actors who were convinced of the efficacy of a “soft” civilising and assimila-

 Grandidier, Histoire physique, naturelle et politique, vol. 4, part I, 416.  Ibid., 416 f., 449 f.  Deschamps, Histoire de Madagascar, 67– 76.

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tion policy. By doing so, it hardly takes the natives of Madagascar seriously as strategic agents as it has them mainly reacting to the mistakes of the French. Furthermore, it builds on the assumption that there was a fundamental dichotomy between the French and the Malagasy. Such patterns of explanation have passed into more recent historiography as the accounts of the attempted colonisation of Nosy Boraha by the Compagnie des Indes in the 1750s shows, an episode that plays only a minor role in historiography.¹⁴ The few historians who discuss these events blame the conflicts between indigenous peoples and the French on the morally reprehensible behaviour of the French commander. They do not examine the deeper reasons for the local conflicts, nor the strategies of regional princes, nor the way the French adapted to this situation. In doing so, they fall back on an old pattern of explanation that considers the Malagasy to be exclusively reactive.¹⁵ In recent decades, the history of French settlements in Madagascar prior to 1763 has aroused little interest among historians. General accounts treat of the colonisation attempts of the period between 1642 and 1672 only cursorily.¹⁶ In the most recent comprehensive accounts of the history of Madagascar, these events are given even less space.¹⁷ Only an essay by Pier Larson develops new interpretations that clearly differ from those of the colonial period. According to Larson, it was the tropical environment that was primarily responsible for the failure of the French. Not only did the climate cause epidemic diseases that killed Europeans in huge numbers, but also, the French were unable to get any significant agricultural production going. In addition, the Great Island produced nothing that would have made trade profitable. In this context, the French could only form alliances with Malagasy elites and organise raids to obtain food. This situation created chronic instability and led to poor relations with the local elite.¹⁸ With this analysis, Larson undoubtedly lays the foundation for a new interpretation of the French-Malagasy encounter in the seventeenth century. The first two chapters seek to build on this to develop a new narrative that provides insights into the reasons for the failure of European expansion. In line with recent

 This episode is not mentioned in general accounts of French colonial history; see Haudrère, L’Empire des rois; Meyer, Jean/Jean Tarrade/Annie Rey-Goldzeiguer/Jacques Thobie, Histoire de la France coloniale, des origines à 1914, Paris 1991, 178 – 187.  Sylla, “Les Malata”, 23.  Haudrère, L’Empire des rois, 135 – 140; Meyer et al., Histoire de la France coloniale, 178 – 187.  Randrianja and Ellis, for example, only casually mention the Fort-Dauphin settlement: Randrianja, Solofo, and Stephen Ellis, Madagascar. A Short History, London 2009, 86.  Larson, “Colonies Lost”.

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approaches to global history, Chapter 1 introduces the history of Madagascar and the first European-Malagasy contacts. The aim here is to create a basis for the following chapter, which – as far as the sources permit – will present an account of the French-Malagasy encounters up to 1763 that breaks with the patterns of interpretation and narration of colonial history.

Cultural Hybridisations on the Margins of the Islamic World In The King of Pirates, Being an Account of the Famous Enterprises of Captain Avery, the Mock King of Madagascar (1719), an adventure novel attributed to Daniel Defoe, Captain Avery, a famous pirate, settles with his followers in Madagascar after a bountiful raid. Avery builds a fort in the north of the island, attacks ships of the Great Mogul of India and amasses untold riches. In this tale, Defoe continues the legend of Henry Every, an English buccaneer, who successfully captured many ships in the Atlantic and Indian Oceans in the late seventeenth century. Every had become famous in 1709 through a story entitled The Life and Adventures of Captain John Avery. Allegedly written by Adrian van Broeck, a Dutchman and companion of the pirate captain, this book printed in London established the notion that Every had founded a kingdom in Madagascar and was ruling over the island. Though incorrect, this was not entirely implausible, since many pirates expelled from the Caribbean had settled in the north of Madagascar around 1700. Today’s readers may be surprised that Defoe describes neither Madagascar nor its people, nor does he allow them to influence the plot of his novel. The entire plot proceeds without any Malagasy; it is mentioned in passing only that the pirates maintained good relations with the natives. Madagascar is presented as an empty island whose resources are at the disposal of the buccaneers. This colonial fantasy of a terra nullius contrasts with what is known about the history of pirates in Madagascar – a history much more colourful than the adventures described by Defoe. The European pirates who settled in north-east Madagascar did not find an uninhabited place. On the contrary, they established themselves in the region by forming alliances with local princes. They also married into local clans and started families. Thus, on the east coast of Madagascar, there were demographic groups born of mixed marriages who engaged in piracy. As late as the early nineteenth centuries, these Zana-Malata, a “mixed-race people”, organised annual raids to the Comoros, Anjouan, Mayotte and the east coast of Africa. Their attacks were so devastating that the Sultan of the Comoros asked

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the British to establish a protectorate over his territory.¹⁹ Moreover, they had inherited from their fathers, the western pirates, the practice of trade with Europe, which they controlled throughout the eighteenth century, and from their Malagasy mothers, their position as princes.²⁰ The mixed marriages between pirates of European-American origin and Malagasy women even resulted in royal dynasties that ruled for many decades. The present-day “ethnicity” of the Betsimisaraka, who populate the north-east coast of Madagascar, can be traced back to the establishment of such a dynasty. Originally, the Betsimisaraka were subjects of the descendants of an English pirate called Tom Tew and the daughter of a Malagasy prince from the region of Mahavelona. Tom’s son Ratsimilaho, born in 1694 or 1695, spoke English and French and probably visited England, and perhaps India, with his father. He built up an army that was trained to produce continuous musket fire and became a potentate on the Great Island. At first, he worked as the chief minister of the second Sakalava king of Boina, the powerful kingdom of the north-west, but he soon established his own kingdom in the north-east of the island by forming a confederation with other descendants of French-Malagasy couples. The confederates called themselves and their subjects “The Many Inseparables” (Betsimisaraka).²¹ The foundation of a dynasty by immigrants who married into the local elite, or by the children of migrants such as the Betsimisaraka, is not an isolated case in the history of Madagascar²² which, from the outset, was a product of transoceanic population flows. Madagascar has been shaped by two different “archaic globalisations”: the transoceanic trade relations that crossed the Indian Ocean;

 Bialuschewski, Arne, “Pirates, Slavers and the Indigenous Population in Madagascar, c. 1690 – 1715”, in: International Journal of African Historical Studies 39/3 (2005), 401– 425; Hooper, Jane, “Pirates and Kings. Power on the Shores of Early Modern Madagascar and the Indian Ocean”, in: Journal of World History 22 (2011), 215 – 242, here 232– 239. In 1720, the chief of the pirates on Sainte-Marie was said to be a mulatto from Jamaica; see ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 44, “Copie du mémoire remis au consul de France à Lisbonne le 26 mars 1720 par M. Borelly”, 12 May 1720.  They inherited the status of princes, even though succession in Malagasy tradition was usually patrilineal; see Sylla, “Les Malata”, 27 f.  Hooper, “Pirates and Kings”, 233 f.; Berg, Gerald M., “The Sacred Musket. Tactics, Technology, and Power in Eighteenth-Century Madagascar”, in: Comparative Studies in Society and History 27/2 (1985), 261– 279, here 265 – 267; Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 105 f.  See the discussions on the origin of Malagasy dynasties in Kent, Early Kingdoms. The royal dynasties of the Antanosy, Antaimoro and Tanala in south-eastern Madagascar were descended from Islamised immigrants: Beaujaurd, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, 237– 240.

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and the Muslim expansion, which also left its mark on the culture of the Red Island elites.²³ In Madagascar studies, there has been a controversial debate about the extent to which the Great Island has an Asian or an African character. French scholarship in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries emphasised its Asian character. It downplayed the importance of the African heritage, probably because of the poor image of the Dark Continent, if it did not simply deny its existence, as Alfred Grandidier, the most influential of all Madagascar scholars, did.²⁴ Raymond Kent revised this picture in 1970 by emphasising the central contribution of the entire East African coast and the early Austronesian-African hybridisations. He debunked the “myth of the White King”, according to which the political entities of the island were all founded by foreign fair-skinned princes, and showed that the fathers of the dynasties were mostly Malagasy, people whose families had been resident on the island for generations and whose language and culture showed influences of different origins.²⁵ Paul Ottino agreed in general with the observation that Malagasy culture had a hybrid Bantu-Southeast Asian character. However, he emphasised the dominance of Malay-Indonesian cultural patterns and the central role played by both immigrants from Southeast Asia and their religious-political ideology in the formation of the Malagasy kingdoms. Ottino’s investigations contributed substantially to a better understanding of the constructions of political legitimacy in the kingdoms of the highlands and the southeast. The validity of his thesis of the Indonesian character of kingship in Madagascar must be qualified, however, insofar as he only investigated the myths of the dynasties of these regions, particularly those of the Merina kings, that is, those social groups whose predominantly Southeast Asian origin is undisputed.²⁶ In the meantime, a consensus on early Malagasy history has emerged in scholarship which is outlined here. Attributing origins to a single continent fails to recognise Madagascar’s multi-layered transmaritime formation, whose

 For the concept and phenomenon of “archaic globalisation” in general and the Muslim example in particular, see Bayly, Christopher A., “‘Archaic’ and ‘Modern’ Globalization in the Eurasian and African Arena, c. 1750 – 1850”, in: A. G. Hopkins (ed.), Globalization in World History, London 2002, 47– 73; Bennison, Amira K., “Muslim Universalism and Western Globalization”, in: ibid., 74– 97.  Grandidier, Histoire physique, naturelle et politique, vol. 4, t. I (second part: Les Étrangers).  Kent, Early Kingdoms.  Ottino, L’Étrangère intime. Ottino does not dispute that some dynasties, such as the Zafikazimambo, were of East African origin and strongly influenced by the cultural patterns of their societies of origin; see ibid., vol. 1, 49 f.

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peoples emerged from numerous processes of cultural hybridisation. Madagascar has been influenced by all regions bordering the Indian Ocean except for Australia. The first people came to the island in the period known in Europe as the Early Middle Ages. It seems that the first major settlement of Madagascar has to do with the history of the Malay kingdom of Srivijaya, which ruled Sumatra as well as large parts of Java and what is now Malaysia. The rulers of Srivijaya, like other Malay princes, enriched themselves by enslaving and selling people of different nations in the area of the Indian Ocean and Southeast Asia. They founded settlements on numerous islands and coasts in this region, in Sri Lanka and possibly as far as the Comoros and the east coast of Africa. Already the entire area from Ethiopia to Mozambique had become a supply zone for slave traders, who sailed as far as China to sell their “goods”. Due to its sparse population, the Great Island was undoubtedly not yet a significant source for the slave trade, but it was probably settled as part of this transoceanic commercial activity.²⁷ Thanks to historical linguistic and genetic studies, it is possible to reconstruct roughly the origin and route of the first significant groups of settlers in Madagascar. They originally came from Borneo, lived for a time in Sumatra, though it is unclear for how long, and some married Bantu-speaking women in East Africa, on the Comoros or Madagascar. It is assumed that the upper class was of Malay origin. In fact, Malagasy belongs to the Austronesian family of languages and is particularly close to certain languages of Borneo, but the linguistic register associated with the elites also shows influences of Malay from Sumatra and, to a lesser extent, Javanese. Early influences of Bantu are also traceable, especially in that part of the vocabulary that relates to realms of women’s experience.²⁸ In the centuries that followed, Madagascar absorbed numerous migrants from Africa and Asia, all of whom adapted, more or less, to the Southeast Asian-influenced culture of the old upper classes. Consequently, Austronesianspeaking elites dominated the island, even though their families came originally from Southeast Asia as well as the east coast of Africa, from Mozambique to Somalia. The upper classes demonstrated their special “purity” through rituals reserved for them alone, in which words from Sanskrit and Arabic were often used, and they even employed secret languages in some cases. Social structures were rigid, and the elites mostly married endogamously, which is typical of the societies of Sumatra and Java, culturally influenced by India. The majority of the

 Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 24– 43.  Ibid.

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population farmed mainly with Southeast Asian plants, animals and techniques.²⁹ As both the east coast of Africa and Southern and South-East Asia became partly Muslim in the period known in Europe as the High Middle Ages, the island found itself on the edge of the vast Islamic world that connected three continents. Madagascar was strongly influenced by the great wave of globalisation that accompanied the expansion of Islam.³⁰ The island was integrated into transoceanic and transcontinental trade flows, even though it was more of a peripheral area in international trade. The increasing influence of the Islamic world on Madagascar between the eleventh and sixteenth centuries led to the introduction of coins, Arabic script, the lunar calendar, astrological and esoteric practices as well as religious beliefs and rites, such as the circumcision of boys and the ritual slaughter of animals. These cultural transfers took place through several channels. On the north-west coast, towns were built in which Swahili- and Arabicspeaking Muslim traders lived. At the same time, Islamic culture reached Madagascar from Southeast Asia. Austronesian immigrants, for example, introduced Arabic script. In addition, Javanese traders travelled regularly between Madagascar and South India.³¹ The steady trade relations with Southeast Asia probably continued until the fourteenth century; later cultural influences from this region are not traceable. As part of these transoceanic exchange processes, groups of people settled in Madagascar and founded principalities. However, after establishing themselves, these Austronesian Islamised elites abandoned most of their religious practices and beliefs after a few generations. They retained a monopoly over the ritual slaughter of cattle and control over astrological and magical expertise. The latter was the domain of men called ombiasy who mastered the art of writing and divination. Writing was considered an esoteric art that conveyed secret knowledge and possessed supernatural powers. It was used, among other things, to bewitch enemies and was associated with rituals that included the spoken word.³² For the French, two of these rather superficially Islamicised groups in Madagascar were to be of particular importance later on. In the north-east, the socalled “descendants of Abraham” (Zafibrahim) controlled trade with the Europe-

 Ibid., 35 – 43.  Bennison, “Muslim Universalism.”  Hébert, “Les Zavaga indonésiens”; for the immigration of Islamised elites, see Vérin, Pierre, The History of Civilization in North Madagascar, Rotterdam 1986, 67– 93.  Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 45 – 69 ; Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”; Beaujard, “Les Manuscrits arabico-malgaches”; Guenier, “Au Carrefour de l’oralité et de la tradition écrite”. For the magical use of writing in war, see Flacourt, Histoire, 322.

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ans; and in the southeast, the dynasty of the Zafiraminia (Zafindramini) ruled in Anosy, an agricultural region with market towns rather than cities. Both the Compagnie des Indes in the 1640s and the Comte de Maudave in the 1760s settled in Anosy; the Zafiraminia formed the local political elite with whom they traded and waged war. The Zafiraminia claimed descent from Muhammad’s mother Āmina (Rahimina) and to have come to Madagascar from Mecca and an unidentifiable city called “Mangaroro” (Mangalore in India?).³³ However, an origin in Southeast Asia (perhaps with a detour via the western Indian Ocean) is very likely.³⁴ The Zafiraminia knew the Qur’an, fasted during Ramadan, did not eat pork, and circumcised boys in childhood. The monarchic ideology of the Zafiraminia and the dynasties of the highlands showed great similarities with that of the Javanese: kings were stylised as universal rulers, visible gods and the centre of the cosmos.³⁵ The king of the Antanosy resided in Fanjahira, a settlement on the Efaho River, where the graves of his ancestors lay (Fig. 3). The control of the ancestor cult was indispensable for the exercise of royal power, because the king received his power from the ancestors, whom he had to serve at all times. The Zafiraminia claimed to be able to secure the blessings of the ancestors for the community through their cult and the knowledge of genealogy it required. They also drew much of their authority from magical and esoteric knowledge of astrology, geomancy, sign interpretation and medicine. They possessed manuscripts written in Malagasy, Arabic or a Malagasy-Arabic pidgin. In Anosy, the most prestigious group after the royal dynasty was called Roandriana, who shared the monopoly of ritual slaughter with the royal family. The Zafiraminia and the Roandriana were considered a “white” upper class that existed alongside a long-established “black” group of village elders.³⁶ The “whites” often married endogamously, but not always, as the presence of “mulattos” showed.³⁷

 Equating Mangaroro with Mangalore goes back to Grandidier, though it is disputed in scholarship; see Kent, Early Kingdoms, 13 – 17. According to other explanations, the name Zafiraminia comes from a King “Raminia” or else from a name for the north of Sumatra, Ramni; see Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, 237; Kent, Early Kingdoms, 102 f.; Ottino, L’Étrangère intime, vol. 1, 16 – 22.  According to Ottino, they were “coastal Malays” and represented the final wave of immigration from Indonesia to Madagascar: Ottino, L’Étrangère intime, vol. 1, 4, 7 f.  Ottino, L’Étrangère intime, vol. 1, 3 – 50; vol. 2, 283 – 396.  Rakotoarisoa, Mille ans d’occupation humaine, 91– 95; Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 61– 65; Ottino, L’Étrangère intime (for Indo-Islamic influences, see especially vol. 2, 523 – 580); Vérin, The History of Civilization, 79 – 89; Rantoandro, A. Gabriel, “L’Extrême sud-est de Madagascar aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles à travers les chroniques européennes de l’époque”, in: Omaly sy Anio 13 – 14 (1981), 211– 234; Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, especially 253 f.; Kent, Early Kingdoms, 102 f. For the cult of ancestors, see Frappaz, Voyages, 123 f.

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Fig. 3: Fanjahira, the residence of the king of Anosy, in a seventeenth-century engraving.

The development of international trade and an urban landscape in the northwest of the island provided the decisive impetus for the emergence of large monarchies in the seventeenth century. The Sakalava, who inhabited the western coast and who had a distinct Bantu heritage, founded a series of kingdoms which became wealthy from the slave trade. Since there was no primogeniture in Madagascar,³⁸ succession conflicts repeatedly caused members of the ruling clan to move to new territories and create collateral lines. For this reason, in the eighteenth century, almost the entire north of Madagascar was under the rule of princes whose families originally came from the west of the Great Island.³⁹ Moritz August Beňovský, who served as the French king’s commander in Madagascar and who founded a settlement at Antongil Bay (Fr. Baie d’Antongil) between 1774 and 1776, fought unsuccessfully against several minor branches of the Sakalava dynasties.

 Kent, “Religion and State”, 282.  Rantoandra, “L’Extrème sud-est de Madagascar”, 215 f.  Vérin, The History of Civilization, especially 106 – 118.

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The fact that the Sakalava dynasty of the Zafinimena controlled northern Madagascar did not mean that centralised states had emerged. Rather, the political entities of the Sakalava, such as those of the Antanosy, Antaimoro or Betsimisaraka, should be described as “segmentary states”. The individual princes of the dynasty worshipped the same ancestors but were autonomous. The king was endowed with ritual rather than political sovereignty.⁴⁰ This fragmentation was to prove important for the French. Under the Zafinimena, the king of Boina amassed the greatest wealth, mainly by controlling the port of Mazalagem Nova (Fr. Nouveau Masselage), which was established in the late sixteenth century and which became the most flourishing trading centre of the Great Island. Numerous slaves were bought here by Muslim, European and North American traders. The Sakalava kings took soldiers of European descent, often former pirates, into their service. These princes cultivated a symbolism that was intended to flaunt their international standing. A German employee of the Dutch East India Company who visited the royal palace in Boina in 1741 was shown by the ruler himself his collections of imported luxury goods. He sat on a lacquered throne of Chinese manufacture and served his visitors punch from a Japanese receptacle. Some days, he wore Arabic clothes, other days, Persian. The ruler also instructed the Dutch Company to send him a tailor to mend the European clothes he owned.⁴¹ In the 1730s, the king of Boina tried to bring the east coast of Madagascar under his control. He undertook several campaigns in this region, which probably prompted the founding of the Betsimisaraka Confederation. Finally, after a successful defensive struggle, the king of the Betsimisaraka was able to form an alliance with the powerful Sakalava king and marry a princess from Boina.⁴² Larger kingdoms also established themselves in the centre of Madagascar, in the highlands, especially that of the Merina. Around 1800 the Merina ruler Andrianampoinimerina (ca. 1750 – 1809) conquered most of the highlands. Through this, he managed to control the slave trade to the east coast. He moved his capital to Antananarivo, which, with an estimated population of approximately 25,000 people, was probably the largest settlement in Madagascar at the time of his death.⁴³ In 1817, Andrianampoinimerina’s son Radama I conquered Toamasina, the most important harbour settlement on the east coast, where the French

 Lambek, Michael, The Weight of the Past. Living with History in Mahajanga, Madagascar, New York 2002, 79.  Vérin, The History of Civilization, esp. 67– 78, 106 – 118; Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 99 – 112.  Hooper, “Pirates and Kings”, 231– 234.  Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 112– 119.

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had had a base until 1811. Not least thanks to British support, he was then able to establish his rule over two thirds of the island and take the title “King of Madagascar”.⁴⁴

First European Attempts at Expansion The founding of the colonial “secondary empire”⁴⁵ of the Merina under British protection was the first successful medium-term influence of a European power on Madagascar’s political conditions. British influence continued until the isolationist policy of Ranavalona I, Radama’s wife and successor, in the 1830s.⁴⁶ In the two centuries prior to this, Europeans had influenced the Great Island through their trade rather than their politics. The arrival of the Portuguese and other Europeans in the Indian Ocean in the sixteenth century did not initially represent a turning point in the history of Madagascar. It did not mean that the Great Island only now was connected to the wider world because for centuries, traders of the most diverse origins had sailed the Indian Ocean. It is notable that the Portuguese did not manage to participate significantly in the Madagascar trade, which was largely in the hands of the Swahili-speaking elites.⁴⁷ In the early modern period, European ships occasionally anchored on the island’s coasts en route to India. But for the Malagasy, trade with the Europeans remained insignificant in the sixteenth century, compared to their trade with the Muslim world. This changed gradually in the seventeenth century when European ships increasingly loaded slaves in the north-west of the island. The intensive settlement of the Mascarenes by the French in the eighteenth century made trade between the Malagasy and Europeans gain even more importance. By establishing plantations on Île Bourbon (present-day Réunion) and Île de France (presentday Mauritius), a demand arose for food and labour. The east coast of Madagascar provided three products that partly satisfied it, namely Zebus (humped cattle), rice and slaves. In return, the French brought silver coins, weapons, gunpowder, brandy, various metal objects and fabrics to the island. Malagasy

   

Ibid., 123. Campbell, An Economic History, esp. 8 – 10. Deschamps, Histoire de Madagascar, 166 f. Hooper, “Pirates and Kings”, 218 – 221.

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women married not only European and American pirates, but also French traders.⁴⁸ From the early seventeenth century onwards, European kingdoms repeatedly tried to gain a foothold on the strategically situated Great Island, but in vain. The Portuguese endeavoured to set up trading stations during this period.⁴⁹ In 1613, a Portuguese expedition from Goa signed treaties of friendship with various rulers on the north-west, west and south-east coasts of Madagascar. The Jesuits founded a mission with the Zafiraminia king Bruto Chambanga (also known as Andriantsiambany) in Anosy. In the eyes of the priests, the prospects for the conversion of the upper class in Anosy were good. On their arrival, some men of the region claimed to be descendants of Portuguese shipwreck victims. The Roandriana regularly visited the cross, which presumably these Iberians had erected in the sixteenth century. The cross had the reputation of bringing rain and warding off insects. Many people also wore tin crosses around their necks, which were said to have magical effects. The good relations between the priests and the king turned to conflict, however, when the Jesuits abducted Dian Ramach (Ndriandramaka), one of the king’s sons, and took him to their college in Goa. Though the boy learned the Latin prayers in the capital of Portuguese India, he soon abandoned Christianity after his return to Anosy in 1616. The Jesuits were forced to leave Madagascar in 1617.⁵⁰ All the Society of Jesus had achieved with their abduction was to have Dian Ramach greet Nacquart, the French missionary, on his arrival in the region in the 1640s with the following words: “Per signum sanctae crucis de inimicis nostris libera nos.”⁵¹ Nacquart and other French missionaries had not arrived on the Great Island alone but had followed French soldiers and settlers. Indeed, in the 1630s, the idea of establishing a colony in Madagascar had gained popularity in France and England. Augustin de Beaulieu, who had led an expedition to the East Indies in the 1620s, proposed around 1631 to make the Great Island the centre of the

 Tombe, Charles-François, Voyage aux Indes orientales pendant 1802 – 1807 contenant la description du Cap de Bonne Esperance, des isles de France, Bonaparte, Java, Banca, et la ville de Batavia, Paris 1810, 89 f.  Vérin, The History of Civilization, 98 f.; Bechtloff, Madagaskar und die Missionare, 71– 141; Grandidier, Histoire physique, naturelle et politique, vol. 4, part I, 431– 442. For the history of the earlier voyages of the Portuguese to Madagascar, see ibid., 418 – 431.  Rakotoarisoa, Mille ans d’occupation humaine, 73, 79 – 86; Larson, “Colonies Lost”, 342– 351; Bechtloff, Madagaskar und die Missionare, 71– 141.  Galibert, Nivoelisoa (ed.), À l’angle de la Grande Maison. Les Lazaristes de Madagascar: correspondance avec Vincent de Paul (1648 – 1661), Paris 2007, 219. For the missionaries, see Schmidlin, “Les premières missions à Madagascar”.

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French East Indian trade, but his writings remained unheeded at the time.⁵² A “golden legend” about Madagascar first appeared on the other side of the English Channel, from the pens of authors Walter Hammond and Richard Boothby. In the 1630s, Charles I of England had decided to entrust his nephew Rupert, son of Frederick V of the Palatinate, the “Winter King”, to conquer the island, but when Rupert’s mother refused her consent, he appointed Count Arundel as governor of Madagascar instead. Parliament, however, prevented the implementation of the colonisation project.⁵³ It was not until 1644– 45 that there was an English attempt at expansion in Madagascar. William Courteen, to whose father, also William, the king in 1636 had granted the privilege of trading in the East Indies wherever the East India Company was not present, loaded three ships and settled with 140 men, women and children in the Bay of St-Augustin in the south-west of the island. Courteen took the colonies of North America as a model for the settlement. However, the colonists did not manage to produce enough food, and malnutrition made them prone to infectious diseases.⁵⁴ According to Flacourt, a seventeenth-century French governor and author, they refused to go to war for the king of the region, with the result that the prince stopped selling them provisions. In their struggle for survival, they resorted to violence. They abducted a village elder and demanded zebus as ransom. The consequences of this policy were warlike conflicts. Thirteen months later, the colonists had to return to England. Only twelve expedition members survived.⁵⁵ In 1649, another English group attempted to establish a sugar plantation colony on Nosy Be, an island off the coast of Madagascar. It sought good relations with the sultan but found itself in conflict with the local people only a few days after its arrival and quickly abandoned the settlement.⁵⁶ These experiences already showed that for Europeans, it would be by no means easy to gain a foothold in Madagascar. Not only the tropical climate of

 Lombard-Jourdan, Anne, “Augustin de Beaulieu et son Dessein touchant les Indes orientales (1631– 1632)”, in: Archipel 54 (1997), 13 – 26; Beaulieu, Augustin de, Mémoires d’un voyage aux Indes orientales 1619 – 1622, ed. Denys Lombard, Paris 1996, esp. 51– 53.  Games, The Web of Empire, 181– 195.  Ibid., 200 – 203.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 301 f.; Grandidier/Grandidier, “Les Anglais à Madagascar”; Brenner, Robert, Merchants and Revolution. Commercial Change, Political Conflict, and London’s Overseas Traders, 1550 – 1653, Princeton 2003 , 170 – 173; Deschamps, Histoire de Madagascar, 66; Racault, “Les premières Tentatives coloniales”, 287– 291; Games, Alison, “Beyond the Atlantic: English Globetrotters and Transoceanic Connections”, in: The William and Mary Quarterly, Third Series, 63/4 (2006), 675 – 692, 687– 89; Games, The Web of Empire, 203 – 206.  Games, “Beyond the Atlantic”, 687 f.; Games, The Web of Empire, 208 – 215.

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the east coast but also the ideas about political legitimacy and the strategies of Malagasy actors presented major obstacles. The history of the repeated French attempts at expansion demonstrates this better than any other episode of the European-Malagasy encounter in the early modern period.

2 The French in Madagascar, the French from Madagascar Compared to the English colony in the Bay of St-Augustin, the first French attempt at a colonisation of Madagascar lasted a long time. For thirty-two years, thousands of French officers, soldiers, settlers and traders endeavoured to establish the French settlement of Fort-Dauphin in Anosy. As outlined earlier, historians have begun to develop new interpretations of the behaviour of the French and their failure. However, on this basis, the history of the French settlements has yet to be written, and this chapter is offered as a contribution for the period between 1642 and 1674, and between 1750 and 1763. The French failure in Madagascar is a reminder that in the early modern period, Europeans succeeded in establishing their dominance only in a few regions of the world. It draws attention to the fact that they could be effective only when they managed to integrate into the local social fabric and acculturate themselves. It is precisely for this reason that the experiences of the French in Madagascar in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries show that the history of the French-Malagasy encounter should not be written as a colonial history.¹ The narratives of François Cauche, Étienne de Flacourt, Carpeau du Saussay, Urbain Souchu de Rennefort, Du Bois and Jacob Blanquet de La Haye most notably serve as the primary sources for this history. François Cauche came to Anosy as a trader and adventurer in 1638 or 1639 and left the Great Island shortly after the first French East India Company, led by Jacques Pronis, established its first settlement in the region in 1642. He published his memoirs in 1651.² Étienne de Flacourt came as governor of Fort-Dauphin and remained in Madagascar until 1655. His Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar first appeared in 1658.³ Carpeau du Saussay and Urbain Souchu de Rennefort reported on the subsequent period in the history of the colony. Carpeau du Saussay was an officer who came to Anosy in 1663 with the last ship of the Marshal de La Meilleraye, the holder of the trade monopoly with the Great Island. Carpeau served under Gov-

 This is emphasised in Gruzinski, Les quatre parties du monde; Boucheron (ed.), Histoire du monde au XVe siècle; Bertrand, L’Histoire à parts égales; Burbank/Cooper, Empires in World History; Lieberman, Strange Parallels; Richards, The Unending Frontier; Stuchtey, Benedikt/Eckhardt Fuchs (eds.), Across Cultural Borders. Historiography in Global Perspective, Lanham 2002.  [Cauche, François], Relations veritables et curieuses de l’Isle de Madagascar et du Brésil. Avec l’histoire de la derniere guerre faite au Brésil entre les Portugais et les Hollandois: Trois relations d’Égypte et une du Royaume de Perse, Paris 1651, 1– 105.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-004

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ernor Champmargou for about two years and seems to have left Anosy in 1665. His memoirs did not appear until 1722.⁴ Rennefort, in contrast, came to Anosy in 1665 with the fleet of the newly-founded East India Company. He was to become Secretary of the island’s Sovereign Council, but due to a conflict with his superiors was never able to take up the post. Rennefort left the Great Island as early as 1666 and had his memoirs printed in France in 1668. In 1688 he published a history of the French in the East Indies.⁵ Du Bois and Jacob Blanquet de La Haye experienced the final phase of the French colony in Anosy. Du Bois arrived in Madagascar as an officer in October 1669 and stayed until April 1671; his account was printed in 1674.⁶ La Haye was sent to Madagascar as admiral and viceroy of the East Indies beyond the Cape of Good Hope and remained in Anosy from November 1670 to June 1671.⁷ Of these six, the accounts of Flacourt and Rennefort are the most detailed by far. As these two authors also tell the story of the settlement in the time before their own arrival on the island, an almost complete chronological overview survives of events in Anosy between the late 1630s and the early 1670s.

The Subjects of Two Kings Even prior to the founding of the first East India Company in 1642, private individuals from France had set up trading stations in Anosy. On their arrival in the mid-1630s, they had placed themselves under the protection of the Zafiraminia king Dian Ramach. The author of a report on these developments, François Cauche, had settled near the peninsula of Tôlanaro with Dian Machicore

 [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage de Madagascar, connu aussi sous le nom de l’Isle Saint-Laurent, par M. de V., commissaire provincial de l’artillerie de France, Paris 1722. However, some scholars doubt whether Carpeau was actually the author of this report; see Racault, “Les Voyageurs du XVIIe siècle”, 193.  Souchu de Rennefort, Urbain, Relation du premier voyage de la Compagnie des Indes Orientales en l’isle de Madagascar ou Dauphine, Paris 1668; idem, Histoire des Indes orientales. Transcription du texte original par Dominique Huet, Sainte-Clothilde 1988 [1st ed.: 1688].  [Du Bois], Les Voyages faits par le sieur D. B. aux isles Dauphine ou Madagascar, et Bourbon ou Mascarenne, ès années 1669, 70, 71 et 72. Dans laquelle il est curieusement traité du Cap Vert, de la Ville de Surate, des Isles de Saint Hélène ou de l’Ascention. Ensemble les mœurs, religions, forces, gouvernement et coûtumes des habitans desdites isles, avec l’histoire naturelle du pays, Paris 1674.  La Haye, Jacob [Blanquett de], Journal de ce qui s’est passé par l’Escadre de Sa Majesté, envoyée aux Grandes Indes, sous le commandement de Monsieur de la Haye, à bord du Navarre, au mois de Mars 1670, Paris 1698.

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(Ndriamasikoro), Dian Ramach’s⁸ son-in-law, and was, according to his own account, a confidant of this prince. Cauche records two warlike confrontations, one between Dian Ramach and the nobles of the Manampanihy Valley (vallée d’Amboulle) in northern Anosy,⁹ and another between Dian Ramach and the Machicores (Masikoro) living in the region of present-day Bara. Cauche proved himself a loyal follower of the prince and joined him when he went to war. He proudly reports the successes of “our troops”, that is, the men of Dian Ramach and Dian Machicore, with whom he obviously identified. The arrival of the first ship of the new French East India Company in 1643 meant a loss of autonomy for Cauche. Having lost his freedom of trade and action, he preferred, though with a heavy heart according to his own account, to leave his house, his garden and above all Dian Machicore, who had “loved him immensely”, and return to France.¹⁰ Cauche had quickly been integrated into the society of the Roandriana; he had become a Frenchman from Madagascar. The plan of the new East India Company to colonise Madagascar was extremely ambitious. It was not just a question of establishing trading stations as nothing less than the creation of a “France orientale”, a second France in the “East Indies”, was envisaged. In 1642, captain Rigault received from King Louis XIII the privilege of founding a settlement in Madagascar. He formed an East India Company with members of the Royal Council, which immediately sent a ship to the Indian Ocean. The main settlement, Fort-Dauphin (Fig. 4), was founded on the Tôlanaro peninsula in Anosy. The governor, Jacques Pronis, a Huguenot, met Cauche and the other Frenchmen on his arrival. He soon formed an alliance with Dian Ramach and took a Zafiraminia named Dian Ravel for a wife, in accordance with local custom rather than church law.¹¹ In doing so, he pursued a strategy that later historians such as Maletot considered the correct one, that of friendship with the indigenous upper class. Yet the adoption of Pronis into a local noble family had quite different consequences from what might be expected following this theory, for instead of “civilising” the Malagasy and ushering in French rule, Pronis had assumed obligations towards his new family. Far from being a rich country, south-eastern

 The origins of Dian Machicore remain obscure; see Rantoandra, “L’Extrême sud-est de Madagascar”, 216.  The Manampanihy Valley was ruled by Voadziri, “black” nobles; see Rantoandra, “L’Extrême sud-est de Madagascar”, 226 f.  Cauche, Relations, 1– 105: “il m’aimait infiniment” (p. 104).  Dian Ravel was the daughter of Dian Marval, a brother of Dian Ramach; see Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 265 – 268. For the genealogy of the Zafiraminia, see ibid., 158 f.; Rantoandro, “L’extrême sud-est de Madagascar”, 215 f.

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Fig. 4: Fort-Dauphin Middle of the seventeenth century.

Madagascar was a region that had suffered from almost continuous wars for a long time; armed conflicts between the Zafiraminia and several of their neighbours were the order of the day.¹² In this difficult situation, the governor had to provide for his Antanosy relatives and was forced to reduce severely the food rations of the company employees. The French accused Pronis of treating them like slaves and, indeed, the governor did refer to his servants as ondevo, which in Malagasy means “ancestorless unfree people”. Pronis’ adoption into the Zafiraminia ultimately had disastrous consequences for him and the settlement. The soldiers revolted in 1646 and threw their commander into prison, but he was freed a short time later by the captain of a newly-arrived ship. The rebels fled into the interior, into the Masikoro region. Nevertheless, a few soldiers mutinied again a short time later. Pronis put down the mutiny and had the culprits deported. The following year, a further twenty-three Frenchmen left Fort-Dauphin because of hunger. They reached the Bay of St-Augustin, set

 Rantoandro, “L’extrème sud-est de Madagascar”, 217– 219.

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up home in the former English settlement and hired themselves out to the local prince as mercenaries.¹³ The integration of Pronis and his party into Anosy society had further unpleasant consequences. When the governor sent six of his men north in 1643 to establish a settlement among the Antaimoro, the French were massacred. In his narrative, Flacourt accuses Prince Dian Ramach of having ordered the murder. He backs up this accusation by referring to the descent of the Antaimoro royal dynasty from the lineage of the Zafiraminia.¹⁴ Yet this account is hardly credible. As is well known, the two branches of the dynasty competed for the domination of south-eastern Madagascar and fought numerous wars with each other,¹⁵ so that cooperation between them was unlikely. Moreover, according to Cauche, who was still in Madagascar at the time, Dian Ramach regretted the loss of his French followers.¹⁶ It would appear, then, that the French paid the price for having become, from the point of view of the Antaimoro branch of the Zafiraminia, the followers of the king of Anosy. As late as August 1647, the Antaimoro killed six Frenchmen.¹⁷ Pronis’ marriage to Dian Ravel proved to be the source of further dire trou¹⁸ ble. However, most of the French did not die at the hands of the Malagasy but due to epidemic diseases that ravaged the colony from the beginning. Of the forty men who remained under Pronis’ command in Anosy (the rest were in other settlements), only fourteen survived the first two months according to Cauche.¹⁹ Moreover, ships and boats were lost in tropical storms, which further weakened the settlement.²⁰ Under these circumstances, the colony hardly grew despite the reinforcements brought by newly-arrived ships. It is not surprising, then, that Fort-Dauphin did not initiate any agricultural production worth mentioning. Neither did trade develop, for as Cauche had informed the newcomers, tropical wood (called “ebony” by Cauche) was the only luxury product worth exporting. However, it did not grow in Anosy, but among the hostile Antaimoro.²¹

 Flacourt, Histoire, 268 f., 271 f., 273 – 275, 278, 302.  Ibid., 266 f.  Kent, Early Kingdoms, 93 – 107.  Cauche, Relations, 100 – 104.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 278, 307.  For the conflict between Flacourt and Razau, a brother of the king, which ended with the death of several Frenchmen as well as Razau; see Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 276 f.  Cauche, Relations, 89; Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 266.  Cauche, Relations, 90; Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 26 7, 277.  Cauche, Relations, 92, 100 f.; Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 305.

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Under these conditions, the French signed up as mercenaries to obtain food, and it appears that European weaponry and combat techniques made them desirable soldiers. However, the military support that Pronis gave to a king from the rather remote southern Betsileo in 1648 provoked a conflict with Dian Ramach, although the exact reasons for this are not known.²² In any case, according to Flacourt, Dian Ramach by this time already intended to kill all the French in the settlement. Pronis also sent soldiers to Dian Panolah, a son of Dian Ramach’s, who ruled over Manambolo (Fr. Manamboule), a region north of the Manampanihy Valley. The latter pursued a policy that initially seems to have been largely independent of his father’s.²³ Thus, there are indications that towards the end of his term of office, Pronis effectively terminated his alliance with Dian Ramach, or as the king would probably have seen it, his allegiance. Frustration with the limited success of Fort-Dauphin up to this point is likely to have been decisive in this decision.

Mercenaries and Robbers In order to turn Fort-Dauphin into a profitable colony at last, the duc de La Meilleraye, who had acquired the privilege of trading in Madagascar, sent Étienne de Flacourt to the island in 1648. However, Flacourt’s term of office brought the company nothing but losses. No sooner had the new governor arrived than he plunged into a conflict not only with Dian Ramach but with the entire Zafiraminia dynasty of Anosy. This war was to cast a shadow over his entire term of office. Flacourt had Pronis’ wife Dian Ravel expelled from Fort-Dauphin and Pronis himself removed from Anosy.²⁴ At the same time, the new governor continued the policy of alliance with Dian Panolah.²⁵ In 1649 the French also went to the aid of Dian Manhelle, king of the Mahafaly, a nation in the south-west of Madagascar. Dian Manhelle was in a succession dispute with his brother Dian Raval, who

 Flacourt’s account suggests that the help Pronis gave the prince of Arindrano in his fight against other Betsileo enraged Dian Ramach; see Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 278 f.  Ibid, 297. Also see Rantoandro, “L’Extrême sud-est de Madagascar”, 277. Flacourt claims that the inhabitants of Manambolo in no way recognised the sovereignty that Dian Ramach claimed for himself; see Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 303. The rule of a member of the Zafiraminia dynasty over Manambolo also seems to have been more recent, as Flacourt states that this land belonged to the father of Dian Manhelle and Dian Raval, whose empire disintegrated after his death: Ibid, 153.  Ibid., 299 f.  Ibid., 300, 305.

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ruled over part of the Masikoro (in the present-day land of the Bara).²⁶ However, Flacourt’s men were attacked on their return journey by a group of Antandroy (in French, Ampatres), who were allies of Dian Ramach.²⁷ Because of this, the French, together with men of their ally Dian Panolah, attacked the Antandroy in April 1650.²⁸ Flacourt had succeeded in winning Dian Raval as an ally for this campaign, the king against whom he had fought only a year earlier.²⁹ In July 1650, war broke out between Dian Ramach and Fort-Dauphin. The situation became even more threatening for the French when their allies Dian Panolah and Dian Raval changed sides.³⁰ For the next few years, only raiding and trading rice with northern Malagasy princes made it possible for the French to obtain food.³¹ The one notable ally of the French was Dian Mananghe, not a Zafiraminia, but a brother of Dian Manhelle and Dian Raval. Dian Mananghe had waged war against these two princes over the inheritance of the Masikoro kingdom, which, under their father, had encompassed a large part of south-western Madagascar and its southern interior.³² In July 1651, Flacourt attacked the residence of Dian Ramach and killed the king.³³ The governor of Fort-Dauphin reports that until the beginning of 1653, he gradually conquered the Zafiraminia and with them the whole south-east of Madagascar.³⁴ Though still repeated even in recent publications, there are, however, two reasons for doubting this account. First, the report was to support Flacourt’s claim that, had he received help from France, he could have subjugated the whole of Madagascar.³⁵ Flacourt’s Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar was neither a neutral report nor an impartial regional geography, but it served the author as a means of winning the support of Finance Minister Nicolas Fouquet for his colonisation project. Therefore, the governor of Fort-Dauphin had a great interest in presenting his policy and its results in the most positive light

 Ibid., 304. According to Flacourt, Dian Raval lost out in this war of succession. For the background to this war, see ibid., 153.  Ibid., 303.  Ibid., 310 f.  Ibid., 311.  Ibid., 316 – 323.  Ibid., 324 f., 328 – 332.  Ibid, 309, 339, 341, 350 f., 353. In the early seventeenth century, Luis Mariano portrayed Dian Mananghe as a vassal of the king of Anosy; see Rantoandro, “L’Extrême sud-est de Madagascar”, 215. Dian Mananghe’s territory lay by the Mandrare River and thus bordered directly on Anosy and the territory of the Antandroy; see ibid, 216 f., 227.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 158 f., 327.  Ibid., 337– 348.  Ibid., 348.

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possible, and so he may have turned its failure into a near-success.³⁶ Secondly, Flacourt contradicts his own account of a successful subjugation when he describes how the hostilities continued without significant interruption.³⁷ Despite minor successes, Flacourt left Madagascar in February 1655, without Fort-Dauphin having outgrown its role as a centre of cattle raiding. Though his successor massacred several Zafiraminia, he could not establish French rule either.³⁸ Unlike Pronis, Flacourt did not try to become part of Zafiraminia society. Instead, he pursued a policy of independence towards the king of Anosy. If the marriage of the first governor of Fort-Dauphin into the Zafiraminia dynasty had caused serious problems, the situation of the settlement under Flacourt was hardly better. Although through repeated raids, the French, despite temporary shortages, overall were able to supply themselves with “beef” (zebu meat) better than before, this was at the price of a never-ending war, which soon led Flacourt to seek the subjugation of the princes of Anosy. Despite the initially autonomous policy of Dian Panolah, the Zafiraminia in general showed solidarity in defending their social position, even when the death of Dian Ramach had raised the question of succession.³⁹ Flacourt was obviously unable to create an alternative to the traditional structures of rule and to generate legitimacy and authority. In these circumstances, a true colony, agriculture or even trade could not develop. A short time after these events, while Pronis again held the office of governor, two ships of the duc de La Meilleraye arrived in Anosy in 1656. Champmargou, who had a large and “fresh” contingent of troops under his command, became the new governor. This meant a return to a more aggressive war policy, which had been abandoned in the meantime due to the weakness of the French. As Rennefort’s Relation, the main source for this phase of the French-Malagasy encounter, contains little information about the aristocracy of south and south-

 This transformation of failure into success is typical in accounts of events overseas in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Stories of failure were commonly used to support the hypothesis of one’s own superiority; see Burghartz, Susanna, “Erfolg durch Scheitern? Zur Konstruktion von Überlegenheit im kolonialen Diskurs um 1600”, in: Renate Dü rr/Gisela Engel/Johannes Sü ßmann (eds.), Expansionen in der Frü hen Neuzeit (Zeitschrift fü r Historische Forschung, Beiheft 34, 2005), 307– 324.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 350 – 377.  Ibid., 387, 392– 411.  Flacourt tried to win over Dian Panolah by offering him Fanjahira in September 1652, the now destroyed residence of the blessed Dian Ramach and the location of the ancestral tombs. According to him, Dian Panolah was very pleased with this. However, in the years that followed, Dian Panolah continued to wage war against the French; see ibid., 345 f., 351– 353, 371, 403. For Fanjahira, see Rantoandro, “L’Extrême sud-est de Madagascar”, 230.

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east Madagascar, the political constellation and strategy of the Antanosy can only be reconstructed to a limited extent. The French were allied with a certain Dian Rasissate from the Manampanihy Valley and went to war against Dian Ramael, about whom nothing more is known. Like the former ally of the French Dian Mananghe, Dian Ramael ruled over a territory along the Mandrare River, on the border between Anosy, the land of the Antandroy, and the present-day territory of the Bara. In any case, the campaign in which a French non-commissioned officer by the name of Vacher de La Case first came to notice was a success for the French.⁴⁰ In addition, the French, together with Dian Mananghe, invaded the land of the Antandroy to help Dian Raval, an old ally who had changed sides during the war against Dian Ramach in August 1650, but who now once again seemed to be pursuing common goals with the French. Under the leadership of Dian Mananghe and La Case, the alliance won.⁴¹ These two wars changed the political situation in south-eastern Madagascar in two ways. First, Dian Mananghe’s influence grew considerably as he made all the subjugated princes his vassals.⁴² Secondly, the successful non-commissioned officer La Case, who was quite low in the hierarchy of the French army, decided to desert. In effect, as a deserter, La Case had brilliant career prospects since Dian Rasissate, the French ally, gave him one of his daughters named Dian Nong as a wife. La Case was thus admitted to the ranks of the Roandriana, the nobility, and lived in the Manampanihy Valley. Since upon the death of Dian Rasissate, Dian Nong was declared his successor, La Case was now a “nègre souverain”, as Rennefort puts it.⁴³ La Case’s social promotion in turn provoked a conflict between the Manampanihy Valley and Fort-Dauphin, as Governor Champmargou was unwilling, or unable, to accept La Case’s desertion and social advancement. However, the princes from the north of Anosy stood by Dian Nong and La Case, who had taken the Malagasy name of Dian Pousse. This left Fort-Dauphin with only Dian Mananghe as an ally. Thus, the settlement was again largely isolated, and the French did not dare to attack the Zafiraminia. The situation of the small colony was so critical that the French considered the possibility of leaving Anosy and settling with Lavatangue, a prince from the Bay of St-Augustin and brother-in-law of Dian Mananghe. The latter, however, did not want to compromise himself.⁴⁴

    

Rennefort, Relation, 103 – 107. Ibid., 107 f. Ibid., 108 f. Ibid., 109 – 113. Ibid., 113 – 119. For the name “Dian Pousse”, see ibid., 109.

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In this situation, the arrival of another ship of the duc de La Meilleraye in 1663 was more than welcome.⁴⁵ The ship’s captain mediated between Champmargou and Dian Pousse alias La Case. The desertion charge against the latter was dropped. Champmargou also “lent” Dian Mananghe French soldiers to fight Lavantangue in the south-west of the Great Island, and to force the princes of the north of Anosy, who had followed Dian Pousse into opposition to FortDauphin, back into the alliance. The campaign was successful and enabled Champmargou to rustle numerous zebus.⁴⁶ Nonetheless, in the following two years, the French settlement experienced a decline. It continued to produce nothing worthy of mention, food rations were running out and disease was decimating the workforce. In the circumstances, most of the allies rejoined the Zafiraminia, and only Dian Mananghe and Dian Pousse remained loyal to Champmargou. The governor had planned a new raid but refrained from acting for fear of being overrun by the enemy.⁴⁷ Only the collaboration with Dian Pousse saved the settlement as, thanks to a joint raid on the Antaimoro, the French were able to obtain food.⁴⁸ Thus, the business model of the small colony had not changed since Flacourt. In the seventeenth century, the French were of interest to Malagasy princes because of their military technology, and they could therefore work as mercenaries for sections of the local upper class. However, the settlement did not grow by its own efforts, because it did not build up any branches of economic activity. Hence their survival depended on friendly Malagasy princes and on continuous supplies from France. The situation worsened further when a war broke out between Fort-Dauphin and its former ally Dian Mananghe. Responsibility for this new conflict lay with a missionary of the Lazarist Order. Dian Mananghe had brought Father Étienne into his house to educate his son. The priest was allowed to convert the young prince, but he also wanted to baptise the ruler himself. Dian Mananghe, however, could not contemplate parting with his talismans or his numerous wives, as according to him, they were the only sign of his elevated social position. Trusting

 According to Carpeau, who arrived on this ship, he and his companions were received “like divine protectors” (“comme des dieux tutélaires”); see [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 62.  Rennefort reports these events twice; see Rennefort, Relation, 76 – 78, 119 f. Also see [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 64 f.  This account of the years 1663 – 1665 follows the narrative of the eyewitness, Carpeau; see [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 67– 72. Rennefort, who at this time was not yet in Madagascar, in retrospect paints a much more positive picture of the situation and suggests French rule over the region; see Rennefort, Relation, 79 – 83, 79 – 83. Yet, Rennefort contradicts himself as he describes the desolate situation Fort-Dauphin was in on his arrival; see ibid., 63.  [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 183 – 185.

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in God’s help, the priest threw the magical objects into the fire, whereupon Dian Mananghe had him killed.⁴⁹ To avenge his death, the French invaded Dian Mananghe’s territory. However, they suffered heavy losses and would almost all have been massacred had Dian Pousse not saved them at the last moment.⁵⁰ Dian Mananghe, who in this campaign wore the habit of the murdered Lazarist,⁵¹ possibly to acquire his supernatural powers, laid siege to Fort-Dauphin and starved the French. Dian Pousse dispersed the prince’s forces, thus saving the settlement from the worst.⁵² Thus, the sum of La Meilleraye’s years in charge was not exactly glamorous when the ships of Colbert’s newly- founded East India Company arrived in 1665.⁵³

The East India Company and the Impossible Colonisation As a matter of fact, the failure of La Meilleraye’s venture had aroused the desires of various traders and court personages who sought to obtain the exclusive privilege of the Madagascar trade.⁵⁴ Flacourt, though he did not conceal his difficulties in Madagascar, had substantially contributed to this as he had described this island as a future source of infinite resources.⁵⁵ Instead of granting the privilege to a private trader, the Minister of the Navy and of Finance, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, founded a new East India Company in 1664 which immediately sent four ships to the colony. Settlers and soldiers, who arrived in Madagascar in their hundreds, found a settlement that produced almost no food.⁵⁶ Moreover, the region was devastated and the population had fled to the mountains when news of the arrival of a new French army spread.⁵⁷ To assuage hunger, rice was imported from northern Madagascar.⁵⁸ However, the most effective means of obtaining food once again proved to be cooperation with the former Frenchman Dian Pousse, who carried

 Ibid., 186 – 193; Rennefort, Relation, 84– 90.  [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 195 – 238.  Rennefort, Relation, 99 f.  Ibid., 127– 132.  Rennefort, Relation, 124 f.  ANOM, C 5 A 1, nos. 5 – 8.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 125 – 154, 420 – 434.  Rennefort, Relation, 192.  Ibid., 196.  Ibid., 167, 189 f., 204. Carpeau and Rennefort both report on a journey to northern Madagascar in connection with the supply of rice; see ibid., 212– 230; [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 90 – 182.

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out various raids from August 1665 in alliance with two Antaimoro princes.⁵⁹ Champmargou, who argued over the leadership of the settlement with the newly-arrived Président du Conseil and Viceroy Beausse, advocated an aggressive policy of conquest, which seemed possible to him with the newly-arrived troops. The president and his nephews, however, pursued a more cautious course. Champmargou, the former governor, criticised them harshly for letting the soldiers starve.⁶⁰ Eventually, Beausse and his advisers allowed Champmargou go to war as they were unable to feed the troops at Fort-Dauphin. However, in the deserted region, the former governor and his soldiers found little to plunder.⁶¹ Moreover, Fort-Dauphin was surrounded by enemies, and the princes of the region regularly carried out massacres of the French.⁶² In 1667 the largest fleet of the East India Company arrived in Madagascar when ten ships unloaded about 2000 Frenchmen under the leadership of the marquis de Montdevergue. The company officers, however, quickly became disillusioned with the colony as they were faced with the challenge of feeding colonists and soldiers, even though the storehouses were empty and the company did not have a single zebu left.⁶³ Montdevergue quickly realised that the southeast of Madagascar was not suitable for colonisation. He expressed his shock at the poverty that prevailed in the devastated region, which he reported to Colbert, the Minister of the Navy. The new viceroy therefore wanted to abandon the plan of colonising the Red Island. But instead of acknowledging the structural problems, Colbert in 1669 blamed Montdevergue alone for the misery.⁶⁴ Yet, Montdevergue certainly strove to create a new foundation for the colony. He was the first governor of Fort-Dauphin to order the development of plantations, not in Anosy, but in the humid north. However, even this venture proved unsuccessful, as it brought the French into conflict with the most powerful king of the north-east coast.⁶⁵ Local princes made the situation even worse when they forced the abandonment of a trading station in the Matatana region, which was

 Rennefort, Relation, 149, 231– 245.  Ibid., 185 f., 207 f.  Ibid., 187 f., 195 f.  [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 181– 184.  According to Rennefort, this circumstance was due to the fact that Champmargou had appropriated most of the zebus stolen by Dian Pousse, claiming that they belonged to the Duke of Mazarin, who was La Meilleraye’s heir; see Rennefort, Relation, 242 f.; Rennefort, Histoire, 249.  The following are the most important archival sources for the establishment of Fort-Dauphin under the first Compagnie des Indes: ANOM, C 5 A 1, nos. 9, 12– 24, 33, 36, 38. For the reaction of Colbert and Louis XIV to the bad news, see ANOM, C 5 A 1, nos. 25 – 30.  Rennefort, Histoire, 265. Du Bois notes that not a single plantation of the East India Company became a success; see [Du Bois], Voyages, 157.

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of central importance for the supply of rice.⁶⁶ Montdevergue and the Sovereign Council, which he chaired, finally abandoned a project that had been decided in Paris to found colonies in the fertile valleys of Matatana and Manambolo. The reason for this was the resistance of Dian Pousse alias La Case, who claimed sovereignty over the territories north of Anosy.⁶⁷ Fort-Dauphin could hardly afford a conflict with the former Frenchman since the settlement crucially depended on him for rustling zebus. To feed the colony, Dian Pousse, together with Champmargou, launched various campaigns, in which they could count on numerous allies thanks to the new strike capability of the French.⁶⁸ The supplies of Fort-Dauphin were secured in the short term, but this policy of raiding still did not afford any potential for development. Frustrated, Montdevergue left the island in 1671. He was accused of corruption and incompetence by Colbert because of his failure in Madagascar and was arrested on arrival in France. Montdevergue spent the rest of his life imprisoned in the castle of Saumur.⁶⁹ The new Viceroy, La Haye, who had arrived in Anosy in 1670 with a considerable fleet of ten ships, appointed Champmargou Commander of Madagascar and soon after declared war on Dian Ramousset (also called Dian Ramousaye in the sources). Dian Ramousset was a Zafiraminia from the immediate neighbourhood of Fort-Dauphin, who in previous years had fought on the side of the French and had rendered them numerous services. The reason for this new conflict was that La Haye and Champmargou suspected that Dian Ramousset was about to defect to the enemy.⁷⁰ But the attack on his village was unsuccessful because in recent years, this Zafiraminia and his men had not only purchased European firearms but had also learned to use them effectively through the technique of continuous fire.⁷¹ After this failure, La Haye decided more or less to abandon Madagascar and to move the colony to the island of Mascarenhas, which Flacourt had named Île Bourbon, today’s Île de La Réunion. According to La Haye, all the advantages

 Rennefort, Histoire, 264.  Ibid., 253 f.  Ibid., 249 – 252.  Ibid., 389 f.  Ibid., 393; [Du Bois], Voyages, 66 – 85; La Haye, Journal, 50 – 56. For Dian Ramousaye, see Rennefort, Histoire, 251; Rennefort, Relation, 125, 152, 154, 159; [Du Bois], Voyages, 212 f. Dian Ramousaye did not want to go to war together with the French against Dian Mananghe; see [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 195 – 203.  Rennefort suspects a betrayal by Champmargou, who commanded this military operation; see Rennefort, Histoire, 394. Nevertheless, Du Bois’ account, according to which Dian Ramousaye had bought rifles and knew how to use them in the manner of the Europeans, sufficiently explains the ability of this prince to repel the French attack; see [Du Bois], Voyages, 84 f.

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Flacourt had promised in his Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar were imaginary; he had “inflated” his book with a “quantity of falsities” (“grossir son livre de quantité de faussetés”).⁷² A ship took some of the French to Surat, an important port city in north-west India. Even the son-in-law and heir of the now deceased Dian Pousse left the Great Island with his French-Malagasy family. The two children Champmargou had had with a Malagasy woman were brought to France.⁷³ Just like La Case and Champmargou, hundreds of Frenchmen had built a new life in Anosy in recent years. They had married Malagasy women and established plantations.⁷⁴ For that reason, about two hundred French decided to stay in the region. In 1774 half of them were massacred by Dian Mananghe and his allies.⁷⁵ The sum of French colonial policy in Madagascar in the late seventeenth century was damning. It is therefore not surprising that after 1671, any major colonisation plans were abandoned for the time being. The Great Island had a sad reputation. The seafarer Pouchot de Chantassin claimed that some Malagasy peoples ate foreigners and even their own neighbours.⁷⁶ In his novel La Terre australe connue (1676), Gabriel de Foigny described the Red Island as a barren and fallow land whose indigenous people lived without fixed abode or any order. They did not spare a single foreigner who dared to enter their territory, and they hanged the French by their feet and let their heads bang against each other until they died. The children waited for the brain to fall out, so as to eat it.⁷⁷ After 1674 the east coast of Madagascar, abandoned by the French monarchy, became free for pirates, who founded settlements on Nosy Boraha and Antongil Bay around 1700. These pirates, who were mainly active in the North Indian Ocean, were of European, American and African origin. With money from traders in New York, they built a palisade on Nosy Boraha. Nevertheless, contrary to the myth of Every and other pirates, these settlements were anything but prosperous

 La Haye, Journal, 81 f.; Ames, Colbert, 92– 94.  Rennefort, Histoire, 395 – 400. For La Case’s son-in-law, de la Bretesche, see [Du Bois], Voyages, 210. Champmargou had established a plantation in the village of “Fanzere” (Fanjahira?): La Haye, Journal, 43 f.  [Du Bois], Voyages, 153 – 156.  Rennefort, Histoire, 400. This even though Dian Mananghe had made peace with the French only a few years earlier; see ibid, 255 f.; [Du Bois], Voyages, 211 f.  Pouchot de Chantassin, Relation du voyage et retour des Indes orientales pendant les années 1690 et 1691. Par un Garde de la Marine servant sur le Bord de Monsieur Duquesne Commandant de l’Esquadre, Paris 1692, 62 f.  Foigny, Gabriel de, La Terre australe connue (1676), ed. Pierre Ronzeaud, Paris 1990, 231– 239.

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and vegetated until British and French warships destroyed them in the early eighteenth century.⁷⁸

Massacre on Nosy Boraha In the first half of the eighteenth century, the Compagnie des Indes retained only smaller settlements on the east coast of Madagascar to organise and protect the gradually developing trade with Île Bourbon and Île de France.⁷⁹ With regard to Madagascar, the Company always exercised caution, even though it was occasionally accused by other traders of failing to exploit the colonisation potential of the Red Island.⁸⁰ In the early 1730s, the Company directors considered establishing a settlement on a small island in Antongil Bay and sent an engineer, Charpentier de Cossigny, to form an impression of the conditions there. Cossigny advised against the foundation and the idea was quickly abandoned.⁸¹ In 1737, the Compagnie des Indes established a small settlement in Madagascar of which not even the location is known. A certain Boisnoir de Lesquelen commanded it and supervised small plantations, a vegetable garden, numerous chickens and a few cows. According to his own letters, Lesquelen was young and intensely bored.⁸² It was not until the middle of the eighteenth century that the Compagnie des Indes implemented a plan, which, though it fell far short of the creation of a “France orientale”, was more ambitious than anything the French had tried to achieve in Madagascar since 1674: the trading company sought to integrate the island of Nosy Boraha, off the coast of Madagascar, into its domain. The island

 Hooper, “Pirates and Kings”, 223 – 229.  In the early eighteenth century, the Compagnie des Indes had only modest trade relations with the Great Island, as is evident from a letter in which the directors of the Company defended their trade monopoly with Madagascar; see ANOM, File of Guillaume Gaultier, E 199, no title, no date (first document).  Luillier [Lagaudier], Nouveau voyage aux Grandes Indes, avec une instruction pour le commerce des Indes Orientales, et la description de plusieurs Isles, Villes, et Rivieres, l’Histoire des Plantes et des Animaux qu’on y trouve, par le Sieur Luillier. Avec un traité des Maladies particulières aux Pays orientaux et dans la route, et leurs remèdes, Rotterdam 1726, 16 f.  BnF, Manuscrits français, NAF no. 9345, fols. 146 – 150, “Mémoire sur l’isle d’Anjou, par d’Hermite”, 3 March 1733; ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 55, fol. 1, “Projet d’établissement à Madagascar”, April 1750. Also see Wanquet, “Joseph-François Charpentier de Cossigny”, 71 f.  ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 48 – 54.

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was to serve primarily as a port and centre for trading goods.⁸³ Nosy Boraha had been the most famous base of operations for pirates in the Indian Ocean in the first decades of the eighteenth century.⁸⁴ After the pirates had been driven out, only Zafibrahim were living on this island. In the middle of the eighteenth century, princess Betia ruled there, a daughter of Ratsimilaho, the founder of the Betsimisaraka kingdom. The project of a settlement on Nosy Boraha was based on the suggestion of an infantry officer and an engineer from Île Bourbon. In 1749 they argued that the island could produce food and cotton and become the central warehouse of the Madagascar trade. The initiators of the project also thought of recruiting Malagasy for the French navy.⁸⁵ As early as 1750, the governor of Île de France, Pierre Félix Barthélémy David, appointed an officer named Gosse as commander of Nosy Boraha. From the instructions given to Gosse, it is obvious that the governor primarily wanted to create a safe place for the Company to conduct trade in zebus; there was no plan to establish a significant agricultural colony. French settlers were not to move there in large numbers, nor did the Company want to rule over the local Malagasy population. Nosy Boraha was therefore not intended to become a colony in the narrow sense of the word. If the establishment of a settlement on Nosy Boraha had one new characteristic compared to what the French had been doing in Madagascar since 1674, it was that the entire island was to belong explicitly to the Compagnie des Indes. Gosse was to obtain an official act of transfer of the island from Ratsimilaho (Fr. Tamsimalo), the Betsimisaraka king of Mahavelona (Fr. Foulpointe), the most important port on the east coast at the time. He was to erect a flagpole there with the colours of the French king, apply French laws, and ask the prince to “order back all the blacks of his kingdom who are on this island”.⁸⁶ In 1750 Gosse sailed to Madagascar to negotiate with Princess Betia, and, according to French archival documents, he managed to secure an act of transfer of Nosy Boraha to the Company. French officers took possession of the island in

 DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar pour y établir une colonie et un commerce utile à la France 1783 à 1784, dans diverses parties de l’Inde. Signé P. P. Roze”, no date; Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 398.  For the pirates, see the following archival documents in addition to the literature mentioned above: ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 42– 45.  ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 55, “Projet d’établissement à Madagascar”, April 1750.  BnF, Manuscrits français, NAF no. 9345, fols. 237– 244, “Instructions, par le gouverneur de l’isle de France, David, pour le sieur Gosse, allant de Foulpointe à Sainte-Marie prendre possession de cette isle, de son port et de l’isle qui le ferme. 18 juin 1750. Copie”, 18 June 1750: “retirer tous les noirs de son royaume se trouvant sur cette isle” (p. 239).

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1753.⁸⁷ Unfortunately, there are only a few sources for the history of the settlement on Nosy Boraha, which is why the events there are difficult to reconstruct and interpret. When Valgny was appointed commander of the island in 1753, the French were living on a ship, as they had not erected any secure buildings where they would have been safe. Valgny reports how it was only with the greatest difficulty that he had had “a small wooden residential building constructed, the walls of which could not be pierced by bullets”. He had the space between the wooden posts filled with earth, “like in a redoubt”.⁸⁸ In addition, Valgny built a powder magazine.⁸⁹ The other buildings, whose remains were discovered by the members of the expedition of 1818, must have been constructed after these two buildings. According to the astronomer Legentil, the Company spared no expense on Nosy Boraha: the buildings were made of cut stone, which had been brought from Île de France.⁹⁰ Between 1750 and 1758, a house for the governor, a barracks, a powder magazine, a guard house, a furnace with a chimney, a storehouse and a gun battery were built,⁹¹ which seems plausible considering the description of the ruins from the early nineteenth century. From the beginning, relations between the French and the islanders were conflict-ridden. French sources blame commander Gosse for this, and scholars agree.⁹² If one accepts the account of the interpreter and eyewitness Le Borgne, Gosse behaved tyrannically towards the “blacks”. For this reason, according to Le Borgne, the latter moved against the Frenchman at the end of 1748, and

 ANOM, C 5 A Franc’ 57, “Copie de l’acte d’acquisition par la France de l’île Sainte-Marie de Madagascar”, 1750, and no. 58, protocol of the appropriation of Sainte-Marie, 15 July 1753. According to Bellecombe and Chevreau, however, Gosse had already taken possession of SainteMarie on behalf of the India Company with forty soldiers in 1748, after making “gifts” to prince “Tamsimalo” (i.e. Ratsimilaho) of between of 15,000 to 20,000 livres; see ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 43, diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau. Sylvain Roux discovered the memorial of the 1753 take-over in 1818; according to him, however, it was a second take-over of the island that took place after the French had been massacred in 1752; see ANOM, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de l’agent commercial de Madagascar [Sylvain Roux] à M. le commandant et administrateur pour le roi a l’Isle Bourbon”, 20 January 1819, here p. 35 f.  MHN, Ms. 887, fol. 3, [Valgny], “Réponse à quelques questions sur l’isle de Madagascar – deuxième cahier”, n.d.: “un petit logement en bois impenetrable à la balle”, “comme celuy d’une redoutte”.  Ibid., fol. 8.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, 6, “Détails sur la révolte des habitans de l’Isle Sainte Marie, en 1751. Extrait du voyage de M. Legentil à Madagascar”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 27, “Notes sur la pêche de la baleine à Sainte Marie et sur les restes des batiments construits dans cette isle de 1750 à 1758 par Saulnier, capitaine du Postillon. 19 mars 1775”, 19 March 1775.  Sylla, “Les Malata”, 23.

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only six Europeans survived the attack.⁹³ Other sources report a massacre of the French garrison by local Zafibrahim in either 1751, 1752 or 1754, but the massacre may have happened in September 1750.⁹⁴ Despite Le Borgne’s assertions, however, the reasons for the conflict probably lay not only in the behaviour of Gosse, but much deeper. It can be assumed that a part of the Betsimisaraka did not recognise the legitimacy of the transfer of Nosy Boraha to the Compagnie, if such a transfer had ever taken place. After the death of Ratsimilaho, the empire of the Betsimisaraka disintegrated. Though his son Andrianjanahary (Zanahary, “Jean-Harre”) had become king in the Mahavelona region, he did not succeed in asserting himself over the whole territory, a typical problem for many sons of kings on the east coast, for in Madagascar, succession conflicts were all the more common because there were no clear rules of succession.⁹⁵ Ratsimilaho’s daughter Betia claimed at least part of the inheritance for herself and probably retired to Nosy Boraha. It is likely, however, that her brother and his followers did not recognise the legitimacy of her rule on the island. This would explain why Betia allied herself with the French and, eventually, chose the path of exile to Île de France when the French forces were defeated by the Zafibrahim.⁹⁶ Years later still, in 1771, with the support of Desroches, the governor of Île de France, and helped by the adventurer La Big-

 ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 44, Diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau. The trader Barthélémy Hugon reported hearing from Betia that Gosse did not want to pay the Malagasy for their work: “Relation sur l’isle de Sainte-Marie, accompagnée de détails sur Tamatave, Foulpointe, et sur la baron de Beniowsky”. However, Hugon’s historical explanations are not generally a reliable source, as this author took the liberty of inventing numerous details.  Legentil speaks of 1751, Bellecombe and Chevreau speak of 1754; see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 6, “Détails sur la révolte des habitans de l’Isle Sainte Marie, en 1751. Extrait du voyage de M. Legentil à Madagascar”, n.d.; see ANOM, C 5 A 7, nos. 64 and 64 bis, Bellecombe and Chevreau to the Minister of the Navy, 13 October 1776. Valgny gives no clear indication of the exact date of the massacre. However, it is clear from his report that this event took place in 1753 or earlier: MHN, Ms. 887, fol. 5, Valgny, “Réponse à l’objection contre l’arrest des Zafé-bourachez”, n.d.; see ANOM, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de [Sylvain Roux] à [Milius]”, 20 January 1819, 35 f. According to Mantaux and Adolphe, the massacre took place in 1750: Mantaux, Christian G./Harold Adolphe, “Documents officiels inédits sur Élisabeth Marie Sobobie Betia. Reine de SainteMarie de Madagascar et du royaume de Foulpointe”, in: Bulletin de l’Académie Malgache 50 (1972), 65 – 113, here 78. I would like to thank Rafaël Thiébaut who pointed out this fact in his review of the German version of this book.  Rantoandro, “L’extrême sud-est de Madagascar”, 215 f. For this reason, such conflicts over succession were common not only in the northeast but also in the southeast; see Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, 252.  “Betia”, in: Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne (1975), vol. 35, 1022– 1024; Brown, Mervyn, A History of Madagascar, Princeton 2006, 83 f.

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orne, she attempted to seize power in Mahavelona where, by that time, her nephew Iavy ruled.⁹⁷ If the chronology and causes of the conflict cannot be reconstructed with absolute certainty, it is on record that the French soldiers took cruel revenge for the massacre of the early 1750s. Commander Valgny fought several battles with Zafibrahim on Nosy Boraha and in the Mahavelona region in the years 1753 – 1756. The battles did not always end well for the French, and soldiers often died in raids, while fetching drinking water. Yet, after several years, only fifty or sixty Malagasy are said to have stayed or survived on Nosy Boraha.⁹⁸ In 1757 Valgny eventually sold the remaining inhabitants as slaves.⁹⁹ Despite this difficult beginning, the Compagnie des Indes remained on Nosy Boraha for several more years until in 1761 or 1762, they abandoned the island for good. According to Le Borgne’s estimate, the Company’s venture had cost the lives of 2,000 to 3,000 Europeans.¹⁰⁰ The history of the settlements in Anosy and on Nosy Boraha demonstrate the structural problems faced by the French in their quest for colonial rule. They show that the assumptions upon which this history has been written to date are in need of revision. The French-Malagasy encounters between 1642 and 1762 did not constitute a prehistory of the colonisation of the Great Island around 1900 because no colonial rule was established in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Instead of a dichotomy between colonial masters and colonised, we encounter in the sources French people who had become part of society in south-eastern Madagascar, even if their integration varied in depth and took different forms.

 ANOM, E 184, personnel file of Filet, called La Bigorne, Poivre to the Minister of the Navy, Boynes, 12 February 1772.  MHN, Ms. 887, Papiers de Commerson, pp. 1– 9, “II. Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Madagascar”, “1. Extraits de quelques journaux sur l’île de Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 44 f., Diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776.  MHN, Ms. 887, I, Valgny, “Réponse à l’objection contre l’arrest des Zafé-bourachez”, fols. 1– 15, n.d.; MHN, Ms. 887, I, 10 f., “II. Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Madagascar”, “1. Extraits de quelques journaux sur l’île de Madagascar”, n.d.; MHN, Ms. 887, I, “Réponse à quelques questions sur l’isle de Madagascar – deuxième cahier”, especially fols. 3, 8.  XVII/mémoires/88, 6, “Détails sur la révolte des habitans de l’Isle Sainte Marie, en 1751. Extrait du voyage de M. Legentil à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, folio 45, Diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776. However, Valgny had to defend himself against the accusation of having illegally enslaved Malagasy. According to his own reports, he had only had a few murderers arrested; see MHN, M. 887, fols. 9 – 14, “Réponse à quelques questions sur l’isle de Madagascar – deuxième cahier”, n.d.

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The first governor of Madagascar, Pronis, chose the path of integration into the upper class of Anosy; however, in doing so, he only provoked conflict with his own soldiers and with Malagasy clans who were at war with his relatives. Towards the end of his term of office, he initiated a policy that lasted until the end of Fort-Dauphin: thanks to military techniques from Europe, the governors could let their soldiers take service with Malagasy princes and undertake joint raids with them. However, this policy prevented any sustainable development. Obviously, the French were not able to establish what was considered a legitimate and stable rule. They had nothing with which to counter the sacredly charged position of the Zafiraminia with their ancestor cult, privileges of ritual slaughter and circumcision, divination practices and magical amulets. Neither weapons nor the “soft” alliance policy moved the upper classes of Anosy to recognise French authority. The French could only be successful if, like La Case alias Dian Pousse, they adopted a Malagasy identity and became part of Anosy society. As the case of Pronis shows, such an integration was difficult to reconcile with the role of colonial master. Finally, the history of the settlement on Nosy Boraha demonstrates that the local population also resisted the establishment of a colony purely for Europeans. For these reasons, the French colonisation attempts in Madagascar up to 1763 had failed entirely. Nevertheless, after the Seven Years War, the subjugation of Madagascar became again a key element in strategies to gain the upper hand in the East Indies.

3 Imperial Failure and Colonial Fantasies The debacle of the 1750s did not deter French decision-makers from espousing the idea of an expansion in Madagascar. On the contrary, as early as 1767, Louis Laurent Fayd’herbe, Comte de Maudave (1725 – 1777), was commissioned to build a colony in Tôlanaro, the old Fort-Dauphin, whose ruins were admired by the members of the expedition of 1819. In scholarship Maudave has a better reputation than his predecessors in Anosy or on Nosy Boraha, as not one historian accuses him of having caused the colony to fail through brutal action, tyrannical rule or even neglect of the civilising policy. On the contrary, Maudave is often contrasted with his ruthless predecessors because he advocated political principles of which colonial historians like Malotet and Froidevaux approved, namely the “soft” policy of colonial expansion through the civilising and assimilation of indigenous peoples. Indeed, the enlightened character of Maudave’s colonisation project as well as his declared renunciation of the use of force and slavery aroused sympathy among historians, even though more recent scholarship is fundamentally critical of his quest for colonial rule, emphasises his unrealistic expectations and points to the discrepancy between his declarations and his deeds.¹ In the search for the causes of the failure of the French in Anosy around 1770, there is widespread agreement in historiography from Grandidier to the most recent publications that the competition between the colonial agents in Madagascar and the administrators of Île de France contributed decisively to the failure of this attempt at expansion. The Chevalier Desroches, Governor of Île de France between 1769 and 1772, allegedly feared that the colony in Madagascar might outperform the Mascarene Islands and, for this reason, successfully agitated against Maudave. The colonial administration for the Indian Ocean is accused of envy and the Versailles government of timidity. According to this narrative, it was the hostility of Île de France towards the Great Island that finally persuaded Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, to abandon the colony of Fort-Dauphin.²

 Gigan, “Bernardin de Saint-Pierre”, 322– 325; Wanquet, “Entre Délire de conquête et parcimonie”.  Grandidier, Histoire physique naturelle et politique, vol. 5, part 3, 106; Haudrère, L’Empire des rois, 331; Wanquet, “Entre Délire de conquête et parcimonie”, 216 – 218; Zatorska, Discours colonial, 5; Campbell, “Imperial Rivalry”, 84. For a work implicitly following this interpretation, see Filliot, “Les Établissement français à Madagascar”, 84. Deschamps cites a number of reasons for the abandonment of the establishment: the hostility of Île de France, the lack of piasters and conflicts with Malagasy; see Deschamps, Histoire de Madagascar, 81. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-005

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This interpretation follows accusations that Maudave himself had expressed to Desroches.³ It appears in historiography for the first time in an apologia for Maudave written by his great-grandson Pouget de Saint-André and published in 1886.⁴ This narrative is based on the assumption that Maudave would have succeeded if he had been given enough time and provided with the necessary means. Thus, to this day, scholarship downplays the obstacles that stood in the way of colonising Anosy. In this narrative, not only the environmental conditions but also the local princes are accorded only a marginal role. Although more recent contributions to scholarship no longer represent the Malagasy as “children” with a “primitive spirit” as some French scholars of the 1950s still did,⁵ they nevertheless unconsciously follow colonialist patterns of interpretation. A new narrative of the history of Tôlanaro and Anosy in the years 1768 – 1772 is thus called for, the foundations of which are laid in the following two chapters. Before the relations between Maudave and the princes of Anosy are explored in Chapter 4, the present chapter examines critically the dominant patterns of interpretation in scholarship and attempt to provide alternative answers. The thesis supported here is that the French colonial actors misinterpreted the situation in many respects and overestimated their own resources. The expansion in Madagascar failed less due to the competition between imperial actors than because of the wrong assumptions on which the entire project was based. Maudave’s intellectual failure shows how deep the divide was in the eighteenth century between colonial aspirations and local conditions and how mentally ill-equipped the French were for expansion on the Great Island.

A Colonial Master without a Colony Based on his biography, the Comte de Maudave (or Modave)⁶ seems to have been predestined to develop colonial expansion plans in the Indian Ocean. At the age of eighteen, he embarked on a military career and took part in successful campaigns during the War of the Austrian Succession. After the outbreak of the

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 60, fol. 11, Maudave to Praslin, 6 August 1768; DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 34, Maudave to Praslin, 3 November 1769.  Pouget de Saint-André, La colonisation de Madagascar.  Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 39 (“enfants”); Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 36 (“esprit primitif”).  He himself preferred the spelling “Modave”, but the name of the Belgian village from which the title is derived is nowadays spelled Maudave. Therefore, the second variant is used here.

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Seven Years War, he came to South Asia with Lally-Tolendal, the new commander of all East Indian settlements. However, the aggressive expansionist policy of the French officers on the Indian subcontinent ultimately led to defeat by Great Britain. All the officers had to sail back to France in 1759. The Comte de Maudave, who in the meantime had married the daughter of the rich governor of Karaikal in India, received the governorate of his father-in-law. When Maudave left France in March 1760, Karaikal was about to be captured by the British. The governor without a governorate tried to fight on the side of the Indian princes against the British but he was forced to leave India in 1763 and settled on Île de France. There, he became an indebted plantation owner and developed a plan to colonise Madagascar as a kind of base for France for the conquest of the Indian Ocean.⁷ Maudave embraced the great plans of the seventeenth century and strove to create a “France orientale”. What was special about his colonisation project was that he wanted to establish French dominance in Madagascar by “soft” means and assimilate the Malagasy in the long term. To Maudave, colonising Madagascar “by soft means” seemed quite simple. He would sail from Île de France to Madagascar, ask the princes of the region to come to see him, and he would explain to them how profitable the establishment of a French colony would be for them. He would then offer them the protection of the king, whereupon the village chiefs would compete with one another to form an alliance with the French. He would trade with the Malagasy instead of subjecting and plundering their country by force of arms. The news that the colony was following the principles of justice would spread throughout the Great Island, and the French would not be met with hostility. On the contrary, the Malagasy, who often changed kings anyway, would flock to the colony to become subjects of Louis XV. Together with the numerous settlers who would come mainly from Île de France and Île Bourbon, they would live in peace and security under the protection of the powerful French nation. It would be essential to maintain neutrality in the conflicts between Malagasy chiefs.⁸ The former governor of Karaikal arrived in Madagascar at the beginning of September 1768 with only a relatively small “escort” of fifty soldiers, because he was not yet sure whether Fort-Dauphin was the right place in which to implement his plan. In the months that followed, Maudave wrote several letters to his superiors and kept a diary. According to these sources, he endeavoured to imple Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 343 – 404.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 25, [Maudave] to Dumas and Poivre, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 48, report of a clerk on Maudave’s project, 19 March 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 63, Maudave to Praslin, 30 August 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fol. 10, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, n.d.

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ment his project of a peaceful colonial expansion and was initially confident that his plan would succeed. Apparently, the “chiefs” of Anosy – Maudave does not specify in his first letters whom he is talking about – did “not offer even the slightest shadow of opposition” (“pas la moindre ombre d’oppositions”) when he informed them that the French king was taking possession of Fort-Dauphin again. They even agreed to his request for an expansion of French territory. The French were welcome everywhere on the island so that soon, they could start building a new colony in the north, Maudave wrote at the beginning of October.⁹ In the middle of the month, he began to think about the establishment of a settlement at the “Pond of Ambouve” (“étang d’Ambouve”, present-day Lake Andriambe), and by November, he wanted to support the private establishment of another colony.¹⁰ On 7 November he was already dreaming of building a school and a hospital in Tôlanaro, three more colonies in Anosy and a town at Lake Andriambe.¹¹ On 25 November, however, the content of his letters suddenly changed. The governor of Fort-Dauphin wrote that he was condemned to inactivity because the Malagasy were attacking his men. However, he did not reveal any particulars about the situation.¹² The previous day, a merchant ship that belonged to the king had arrived in the outer harbour of Fort-Dauphin. It brought merchandise, soldiers and craftsmen, so that Maudave now commanded ninety soldiers and a further fifty to sixty “whites”. He was not content with this, though, and asked for 700 to 800 farmers and 900 soldiers to be sent.¹³ Pierre Poivre, the Intendant of Île de France, in January 1769 complained of Maudave’s excessive demands. It was his opinion that the colony had “begun to take shape” (“commence à prendre une forme”) but the whole enterprise was “premature” (“prématuré”).¹⁴ Above all, he and Governor Dumas complained about the paucity of trade in Tôlanaro, which was slow to get going.¹⁵ At the same time, the mortality rate among French soldiers was very high. It is hardly surprising, then, that soon after his

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 64, Maudave to Praslin, 2 October 1768.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fols. 3 – 8, extracts from Maudave’s diary, n.d.  Ibid., fol. 12.  Ibid., fol. 30.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 67, Maudave to Praslin, 11 December 1768.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 17, Poivre to Praslin, 12 January 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 27, summary of letters from Poivre and Dumas, 26 May 1769; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 29, excerpts from letters by Steinauer and Poivre; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 35, Poivre to Praslin, 1 September 1769.

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arrival in 1769, the new Governor of Île de France, Chevalier Desroches, entertained serious doubts about the idea of a colony in Madagascar.¹⁶ Maudave had erected different buildings in the fort in August 1769. Below the small fortress stood eighty houses, a bakery, a hospital and a forge.¹⁷ According to the count, however, it was not yet a real colony as it lacked the settlers that the administrators of Île de France were denying him. Maudave did not want to admit that there were structural problems. He conceded that the “blacks” no longer sold him cattle but denied the fact that his people were starving and wanted to sail back to the Mascarenes.¹⁸ The surrounding Malagasy villages had been abandoned, not because their inhabitants were hostile to the French but because their “chiefs” had ordered it. According to Maudave, it was only some Roandriana who were not satisfied with the establishment of a French colony.¹⁹ He remained of the opinion that the establishment of a colony in Madagascar was “the simplest and most useful operation that could be undertaken in these eastern regions”²⁰ and did not change his mind until the end. Yet, in February 1771, he had to justify the loss of soldiers the previous October in skirmishes between his troops and the men of a “chief” of the Manampanihy Valley.²¹ At this point in time, Maudave had already left Madagascar by order of the king. The project to build a significant colony in Tôlanaro was no longer on the agenda.

Dreamers and Sceptics This first cursory overview of the history of the settlement shows that with their complaints, the governors and the intendant of Île de France in fact nurtured a certain scepticism about Maudave’s plans. They thus influenced the decision to abandon the colonisation of Anosy. Historians rightly point to the centrality of the conflicts between colonial administrators overseas, and an insight into this will be provided in what follows.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 10, Desroches’s memorandum, 2 September 1769. For Maudave’s reply to such accusations, see C 5 A 3, no. 30, Maudave to Praslin, 15 August 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 12, anon., copies of texts on Madagascar, n.d.; C 5 A 3, no. 30, Maudave to Praslin, 15 August 1769; C 5 A 3, no. 32, fol. 3, Maudave to Praslin, 26 August 1769; C 5 A 3, no. 45, “Etat des ouvrages faits à Fort-Dauphin depuis le 5 septembre 1768”, 1770.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 30, Maudave to Praslin, 15 August 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 32, fol. 3, Maudave to Praslin, 26 August 1769. Maudave uses the term “Chef” to refer to the Roandriana and Zafiraminia.  Ibid., fol. 2: “l’operation la plus facile et la plus utile qu’on puisse tenter dans ces regions orientales”.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 52, Maudave to Boynes, 9 February 1771.

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It was always difficult for the headquarters in Versailles to steer colonial policy overseas. The ministry officials, despite writing letters almost weekly, were able to control their overseas agents or obtain reliable information about their activities only to a limited extent. Time and again, overseas employees tried to discredit each other with mutual accusations of corruption. In the 1760s, for example, a rivalry broke out between the two directors of the colonial administration for the Indian Ocean, Governor Jean-Daniel Dumas and Intendant Pierre Poivre.²² In the Ancien Régime, the French administration was always doubleheaded in that the areas of responsibility of the two administrators were not clearly separated in every respect. Governors held the military power, while intendants were responsible for the finances, in addition to which, however, there were several areas for which both were responsible. In everyday life, such overlapping of competences often proved ineffective as disputes over responsibilities occasionally prevented decision-making. However, such double staffing was in the interest of the Ministry of the Navy in so far as ideally, the two leaders controlled each other. Double staffing increased the likelihood that news of mistakes and misconduct on the part of colonial administrators would reach Versailles.²³ In 1768 Dumas and Poivre argued bitterly about the best Madagascar policy. They flaunted conflicting trade policy convictions and vied for responsibilities of office. In so doing at least Dumas, and perhaps Poivre, too, were also defending their personal financial interests. Poivre was a physiocrat who became famous in France that same year with his work Voyages d’un philosophe ou Observations sur les mœurs et les arts des peuples de l’Afrique, de l’Asie et de l’Amérique. ²⁴ He advocated the implementation of the far-reaching colonial reforms that Choiseul and Praslin had initiated. These two ministers, who were cousins, had decided in 1764 that the Compagnie des Indes should relinquish to the king its colonies in the Mascarenes as well as some African trading stations. Consequently, they eliminated part of the trade monopoly of the Company and opened up innerAsian trade (commerce d’Indes en Indes) to private individuals. In 1769 they even abolished the monopoly of the East India trade which the Company had held since its foundation.²⁵ However, Dumas accepted the decisions of the Versailles ministers only in part. Although he was happy to take possession of

 Malleret, Louis, Pierre Poivre, Paris 1974, 267– 326.  For the Spanish crown proceeding similarly, encouraging its officials in America to control and denounce each other; see Brendecke, Imperium und Empirie, 180 – 186.  Poivre, Pierre, Voyages d’un philosophe ou Observations sur les mœurs et les arts des peuples de l’Afrique, de l’Asie et de l’Amérique, Yverdon 1768.  Haudrère, L’Empire des rois, 326 – 329.

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the Company’s settlements in the name of the king, he did not want to grant freedom of trade in the Indian Ocean to private individuals. The governor showed little consideration for the upper class of the Mascarenes. He did not shy away from obliging the settlers of Île de France to do corvée work and proclaimed that he wanted to negotiate with the Malagasy “chiefs” “as a politician” (“en politique”), that is as a representative of the sovereign, rather than as a businessman (“en supercargue”).²⁶ He accused Poivre of having been bribed by rich traders.²⁷ As a matter of fact, Poivre was committed to allowing these private individuals freedom to trade but, by his own account, he did so in order to boost the economy of the Mascarenes.²⁸ Dumas, on the other hand, was of the opinion that the private traders were driving the colonies of Île de France and Île Bourbon to ruin, because they demanded prices for slaves that were too high. The question remains whether this argument merely served as a pretext; first, because it was well known that more competition drives prices down,²⁹ and second, and more importantly, because the governor was most likely corrupt. If he advocated that the monarchy should retain the monopoly on trade, it was not least because he wished to confer, and did confer, the trading privilege on two old acquaintances from his years of service in Canada.³⁰ Therefore, everything points to his loyal followers conducting an illegal slave trade on the king’s ships for their own benefit and that of the governor.³¹ But it is possible that Poivre did the same as his rival, as Desroches, Dumas’ successor, claimed. This practice seems to have been pervasive, and in defiance of the minister’s instructions, Desroches openly refused to punish the offenders or even transmit to Versailles concrete information about them. On the contrary, he recommended many a culprit to the minister.³²

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fol. 3, 5, register with copy of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre, n.d.  Ibid., fols. 4– 9.  Ibid., fol. 14.  Ibid., fol. 14.  Ibid, fol. 13 f. In the 1750s, Dumas had served as an officer in Canada.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 24, “Procès verbal de la saisie faite de 70 esclaves debarqués frauduleusement le 12 décembre 1768 de la Garonne venant de Foulepointe”, 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 46, Poivre to Praslin, 26 February 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 61, Poivre to Praslin, 7 August 1768; C 5 A 3, no. 23, “habitant au quartier de Moka, Isle de France, au bureau de contrôle de ladite isle: il certifie avoir reçu chez lui des esclaves appartenant à MM. Glemet et Vauquelin (11 mars 1769)”, 3 April 1769. Concerning this, see the account in Malleret, Pierre Poivre, 581– 610.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 27, extracts from letters on trade; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 36, Desroches to the Minister of the Navy, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 50, Desroches to the Minister of the Navy, 16 September 1770.

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For the royal treasury, which was empty after the Seven Years War, this illegal trade had serious consequences, but it did not endanger the existence of a colony in Madagascar. The conflict between Dumas and Poivre had more troublesome consequences for Maudave than the corruption. It was difficult for him to choose a site for his colony without losing the favour of one or other of his superiors. Dumas tried to convince him to found a colony in the north of Madagascar, while Poivre believed that the former governor of Karaikal should settle in Fort-Dauphin.³³ Dumas’ resistance to the establishment of a colony in Anosy may possibly be traced back to a single cause. He would certainly not have wanted Maudave to know about the misappropriation of public funds by his acquaintance from New France who was working in Fort-Dauphin as chief trader for the king.³⁴ Initially, Maudave wavered between his superiors, but eventually followed Poivre’s project.³⁵ However awkward this situation may have been for Maudave, this conflict had no serious consequences for his colonisation project. In the short time left until his recall to France, Dumas apparently did nothing to harm the settlement at Fort-Dauphin but rather followed the instructions of the Minister of the Navy.³⁶ The conflict between Maudave and the administration of Île de France did not emerge until 1769. Poivre, who was initially sympathetic to Maudave and his colonisation project, began to change his stance at the beginning of that year, that is shortly before the arrival of Desroches. According to Poivre, the colony at Fort-Dauphin was unstable and the mortality rate high, hence it would be premature to send settlers there. Maudave’s demands were excessive and spending should urgently be cut.³⁷ In the period that followed, it was Governor Desroches,³⁸ above all, who spoke out against the colonisation project. On 2 September 1769, he wrote to the Minister of the Navy that he had made a survey of the expenditure and loss of men incurred by Maudave’s colony between April 1768 and April 1769. Fort-Dauphin had cost the crown one officer, nineteen soldiers

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 26, copy of a letter from Dumas to Maudave and of a letter from Poivre to Maudave, July–August 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 50, Dumas to Praslin, 7 June 1768.  Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 393.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 58, Maudave to Praslin, 5 August 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 60, Maudave to Praslin, 6 August 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 62, Maudave to Praslin, 7 August 1768.  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 30. For Maudave expressing satisfaction with Dumas’ help, see MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 48, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 16, “Note sur une lettre de M. Poivre au ministre pour se plaindre des dépenses excessives faites à Fort-Dauphin par M. de Modave”, 1769; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 17, Poivre to Praslin, 12 January 1769.  For Desroches and his conflictual relationship with Poivre, see Malleret, Pierre Poivre, 409 – 454.

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and 193,561 livres. In view of these high losses, he was against sending settlers from Île Bourbon and Île de France. This would ruin the two islands without establishing a permanent colony in Madagascar. Moreover, and contrary to what he had promised, Maudave had not sent tar, steel, rubber, resin, wood or even hemp from the Great Island. Also, it was obvious that the inhabitants of Anosy would not tolerate a French colony in their region. Although it was certainly true that one day, soldiers and sailors would be recruited in Madagascar, this would be impossible as long as the resistance of the natives was provoked by the establishment of a colony. In short, Desroches did not see what advantages Fort-Dauphin would bring, and he wanted to prevent Île de France from incurring expenses by an ill-considered attempt at colonisation.³⁹ Competition for the administration’s scarce resources thus played an important role in the decision to abandon Fort-Dauphin. Yet, it would be wrong to speak of envy or fear on Desroches and Poivre’s part that their islands could be overtaken by Madagascar. On the contrary, Desroches’ adverse attitude towards the colonisation attempt stemmed from the fact that Fort-Dauphin was in ruins, without yielding the slightest benefit either to Île de France or to France. It was not a matter of abandoning a prosperous colony out of envy but rather, based on a realistic assessment of the situation, a settlement in poor condition. The decisive factor for stopping the colonisation was the complete failure of the settlement under Maudave. The abandonment of the attempts at expansion was also caused by the self-will displayed by the commander of Madagascar. At the latest when he arrived in Madagascar, Maudave developed projects that, in retrospect, appear all too ambitious. For the administrators of Île de France and ministry officials, it was very difficult to control him. The governor of Fort-Dauphin wanted to establish several colonies without considering the cost.⁴⁰ The reasons for Fort-Dauphin’s massive failure are revealed principally by one source, extant in part, namely Maudave’s diary. Unfortunately, the original has been lost and only a copy by the famous botanist of the time, Philibert Commerson (1727– 1773), is known. Commerson only copied the entries for the year 1768 in detail.⁴¹ For the period thereafter, the study must rely more heavily on Maudave’s letters and those of other actors. Maudave did not write the diary

 ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 10, memorandum by Desroches, 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 16, “Note sur une lettre de M. Poivre au ministre pour se plaindre des dépenses excessives faites à Fort-Dauphin par M. de Modave”, 1769.  For Commerson’s transcription of Maudave’s diary, see MHN, Ms. 888. Decary’s transcription will be quoted in what follows, MHN, Ms. 3001. Commerson collected various sources for his own scholarly writings. One can assume that he did not alter Maudave’s entries substantially, although the question arises as to what extent he had made a selection.

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for himself alone; he announced to his superiors that he would send it to them. This explains why he not only presented various considerations and plans in this text but also tried to justify his actions and excuse his failures. Nevertheless, Maudave ultimately refrained from submitting the diary to the governor and the intendant of Île de France and only sent them well-selected excerpts.⁴² This reluctance may have to do with the fact that the almost daily entries of the “journal” painted a picture of the history of the French colony under his leadership that was by no means glorious. In his text, the French count described his problems, among which tropical diseases occupied no small place.

Health and Environment What is most striking in retrospect is that the decision-makers both in the ministry and in the Indian Ocean region underestimated the epidemiological problems in Madagascar. Since the drug quinine was not yet known, the Europeans who relocated to Madagascar died of malaria en masse. This fact was already known before the implementation of the colonisation project, but its importance was played down by the proponents of expansion in Madagascar. In a plea for the colonisation of the island in 1767, Valgny, an officer of the India Company who had served in Mahavelona and on Nosy Boraha, admits that “the intemperateness of the air” (“l’intempérie de l’air”) was “fatal” (“funeste”) for the French. At the same time, however, he claims that simple measures could prevent high mortality.⁴³ Furthermore, among the French living around the Indian Ocean, the area of Tôlanaro was considered relatively healthy;⁴⁴ in contrast, the north of Madagascar, especially Antongil Bay, was regarded as a dangerous region.⁴⁵ For this very reason, Pronis, shortly after his arrival, had relocated the colony from the bay of Sainte-Luce to the elevated peninsula of Tôlanaro.⁴⁶ Likewise, Maudave decided  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 29. For the partial transcription of his diary that Maudave sent to his superiors, see ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 31, memorandum by Valgny to Dumas, 23 October 1767.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 35 bis, Poivre to Praslin, 30 November 1769; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 54, Poivre to Praslin, 29 July 1768; C 5 A 3, no. 87, fol. 7, memorandum by Cossigny, 1 January 1773; DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 11, fol. 1, Legentil, “Productions du Fort Dauphin propres au commerce et à la vie”, n.d.  For copies in the hand of clerk Michel, see ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11 (see the “Observations” by Trévau and the memorandum by “M.”, presumably by Michel himself); ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 54, Polonito Praslin, 29 July 1768; C 5 A 3, no. 16, “Note sur une lettre de M. Poivre”, 1769.  Froidevaux, Jacques Pronis, 15 f.

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in favour of establishing a colony in Fort-Dauphin even though he knew that the north was more attractive for trade.⁴⁷ Poivre, too, had initially assumed that FortDauphin did not present any risk to health.⁴⁸ That this was not true only became known through documents that were made available to the Ministry of the Navy after Maudave’s evident failure. It was a confidant of Poivre’s, Béquet (Becquet), who defended the view that the French often caught fevers at Fort-Dauphin. But even he occasionally, in other contexts, presented Fort-Dauphin as a relatively healthy region.⁴⁹ However, the idea that the “air” in Tôlanaro was “healthy” was not based on any evidence. On the contrary, the mortality rate in the colony does not seem to have been significantly lower than in the other parts of the island, as Maudave’s diary and Desroches’ and Poivre’s letters show.⁵⁰ According to the diary, a third of the French in the colony fell seriously ill within two months.⁵¹ Yet even that many cases of illness did not make Maudave change his assessment that the area was healthy. That the imperial actors did not consider the epidemiological situation a threat may only in part be seen as an inadequate interpretation. In the light of early modern medical knowledge, only Maudave’s successor Beňovský was positively careless. Beňovský’s decision to settle in the middle of the swamps of Antongil Bay in the damp north is surprising, for such areas were considered dangerous. Even before his arrival, this place had a dire reputation and was soon to be nicknamed the “Grave of the French” (“tombeau des Français”). Already during his term of office, Beňovský was accused of setting up a colony on a particularly unhealthy headland between swamps. He admitted that Antongil Bay was dangerous to health but claimed to have found a more wholesome plain in the interior which he immediately, and suggestively, dubbed “Plaine de la Santé des volontaires”. There, he founded a small, lightly fortified post and planned the establishment of a colony of settlers.⁵² However, as Mayeur, his interpreter, later told Inspector Bellecombe, this place was by no means healthier.⁵³  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 65, Maudave to Dumas, 2 October 1768.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fol. 4, register with copy of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, copy of various documents about Madagascar in the hand of Michel (see the letter from Béquet to Dumas and the excerpt from one of his memoranda).  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 10, memorandum by Desroches, 1769; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 16; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 17, Poivre to Praslin, 12 January 1769.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 30, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 19, esp. fol. 34 f., excerpt from a letter by Vauquelin of 10 August 1768; C 5 A 4, no. 105, Beňovský to the Minister of the Navy, 22 September 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 80, fol. 1, Mayeur to Bellecombe, 27 October 1776.

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The main reason for the miscalculation of the French lay in the medical and hygienic theories of the time. The early modern period was characterised by considerable optimism about the prospects for the “acclimatisation” of Europeans in the tropics and the settlement of these regions. In the galenic tradition, which in the second half of the eighteenth century still exerted a dominant influence on medicine, fevers were thought to result from the putrefaction of humours, which caused them to become unbalanced.⁵⁴ The hot and humid climate encouraged such rotting processes. However, according to the theory, the climate was only one of many factors influencing the balance of the humours. Equally important were diet, sleep, excretion and repletion, exercise and rest, as well as passions and emotions. Illness could thus be prevented relatively easily by sheltering from the rain, avoiding physical exertion in the heat, and living a moderate life without sexual excess. The balance of the humours could also be restored by ingesting or excreting fluids.⁵⁵ Moreover, if Europeans survived the first few years in a humid and warm region, they would become “acclimatised” and less sensitive to the heat. Ascribing fevers to humidity also meant that only certain places were considered unhealthy. When the air was relatively dry and not contaminated by foul waters, the region was considered suitable for colonisation by Europeans.⁵⁶ The mental tools that Europeans used to explain illnesses therefore did not make Madagascar seem unattractive, and the epidemiological situation did not pose an insurmountable obstacle to the colonisation of the island, as the medical memoranda emphasised.⁵⁷ This applied in particular to Tôlanaro.⁵⁸ As Maudave pointed out, this fort was located on a headland high above the sea, exposed to the wind, and therefore could not be dangerous to health.⁵⁹ According to the miasma theory, fresh air was the decisive criterion for a healthy environment and consequently, this location promised a low mortality rate, even though there were swamps in the vicinity of the settlement. The south was also drier than the north, which was closer to the equator. No expert knowledge was needed to assess the epidemiological situation of a region. Anyone could distinguish fresh air from “thick” and foul-smelling air. As a result, Maudave did not hesitate to determine the nature of the “fevers” which, in his opinion

 Harrison, Mark, Climates and Constitutions. Health, Race, Environment and British Imperialism in India, 1600 – 1850, Delhi 2002, 38.  See, for example, ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 1, “Observations sur les fièvres endémiques de Madagascar”, n.d.  Harrison, Climates and Constitutions, 3 – 61.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 1, “Observations sur les fièvres endémiques de Madagascar”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 19, fol. 1, “Note sur le Fort-Dauphin par M. Bouchet”, 17 August 1776.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 30, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.

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and according to contemporary patterns of interpretation, were caused by internal putrefaction. He provided explanations for their spread⁶⁰ and blamed this largely on the soldiers themselves and their supposedly licentious lives, especially in their “excesses with the Negresses” (“excès avec les négresses”).⁶¹ Maudave also happily prescribed remedies. He showed himself confident about the kind of diet sick soldiers and officers should follow.⁶² If he noticed that some soldiers repeatedly caught a “fever” after eating poultry, he ordered them to fast.⁶³ In his diary, he ironises how one of his officers sought to restore his health “in the manner of the Iroquois” (“à la manière des Iroquois”), that is, by taking a sweat bath.⁶⁴ For Maudave and his companions, there were no epidemiological differences between Madagascar and Europe. In their eyes, it was not necessary to investigate the particularities of tropical diseases for they believed they were dealing with the same ailments as on the European continent. Clearly, there is little evidence here of a scientific revolution that, by referring to empiricism, would have brought about the downfall of galenic medicine during the Enlightenment.⁶⁵

Trade and Goods Madagascar’s environment also caused serious problems in the production of food which, along with the slave trade, was one of the main objectives of colonial expansion on the Great Island. In fact, one of the most important products that the Mascarenes sourced in Madagascar was “beef,” that is meat from the zebu, a species of cattle native to Asia. As transporting live animals was difficult, some of them had to be slaughtered in Madagascar and their meat salted. Nevertheless, the meat often rotted in the tropical climate, a problem which the French in the eighteenth century did not manage to get under control, despite repeated attempts.⁶⁶  Ibid., 41 f.  Ibid., 30 (quotation), 42. Similarly in ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 2, copy of documents on Madagascar in the hand of Michel.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 36, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  Ibid., 42.  Ibid., 61.  Such a development is suggested by Gascoigne, The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia, 1 f.  For the plans to establish a butcher’s shop and the often disappointed expectations that this enterprise aroused, see ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fol. 3, register with copy of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 31, fols. 2– 6, 12 f., 20 f., Valgny to Dumas, 23

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The financial problems of the butchers’ shops of Madagascar were symptomatic of the difficulties of colonial planning. The French had exaggerated expectations of trade with the Great Island. When colonial actors described how trade with the Malagasy princes was to be conducted and what goods Fort-Dauphin could produce and export, the evidence was often very thin. The settlement in the south of Madagascar was planned both as a trading base and an agricultural colony. In both respects, the result was extremely disappointing. A fateful decision had been made even before Maudave’s arrival. The administration of Île de France prohibited him and his subordinates from trading in piastres on behalf of the French king. These Spanish silver coins had become established in the East India trade. The Europeans exported very little beyond the Cape of Good Hope and mainly paid with silver coins in this region; accordingly, their balance sheets showed a large trade deficit.⁶⁷ At the same time, around 1760, the piastre had increased fivefold in value against the French livre within a few years.⁶⁸ For this reason, Poivre forbade the use of silver coins in Madagascar as early as August 1767.⁶⁹ Initially, Maudave approved of this decision. He planned to carry out a barter trade and, to this end, had muskets, jewellery and haberdashery brought to Anosy.⁷⁰ However, the “suppression of the piastres” (“suppression des piastres”), as the ban on payment with silver coins is called in the sources, brought trade almost to a standstill. In 1767 the royal commissioners could only buy very few goods and slaves in Madagascar. Governor Dumas blamed the private traders who, according to him, continued to trade in silver coins. Not least for this reason, he wanted to reverse the freedom of trade with Madagascar.⁷¹ In contrast, Intendant Poivre claimed that in the past, most of the trade had not been transacted in piastres either.⁷² In any case, both colonial officials, Glemet the trade

October 1767; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 20, Poivre to Praslin, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 35 bis, fol. 1, Poivre to Praslin, 30 November 1769; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 44, Glemet to Dumas, 14 February 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 55, Dumas to Praslin, 30 July 1768; C 5 A 7, no. 19, “Note sur le FortDauphin, par M. Bouchet”, 17 August 1776; C 5 A 8 bis, nos. 211, 226, 248; C 5 A 9, nos. 29 – 32, 53, 81.  See Haudrère, Philippe, “Jalons pour une histoire des compagnies des Indes”, in: Revue française d’outre-mer 78/no. 290 (1991), 9 – 27, 21– 23.  Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 356.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 30, fol. 4, Poivre to Glemet, 10 August 1767.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 15 and no. 16 (lists of trade goods).  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fols. 1, 5, 18, register with copy of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 50, fol. 1 f., Dumas to Praslin, 7 June 1768.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fol. 5, register with copy of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre.

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clerk and Maudave, expected that in the medium term, if the delivery of goods was stopped, the islanders would use barter instead of coins.⁷³ However, Maudave, too, soon began to feel the consequences of the ban on paying for trade goods with piastres: 16 October [1768.] I have learned that the [indigenous, D. T.] captain from the valley of Amboulle [Manampanihy, D. T.], who left [Fort-Dauphin] yesterday, had brought four slaves with him to sell. But when he learned that we would not give him any piastres for them, he returned with them, without saying a word. We will have the greatest difficulty in driving the taste [for piastres, D. T.] out of the negroes. But we must persevere, even if we are to suffer for ten years. Eventually, they will be forced to do without them.⁷⁴

Even though we have only excerpts from Maudave’s diary for the year 1769, it is clear that the governor of Fort-Dauphin addressed this problem several times. He repeated the exhortation to “hang in there” (“tenir bon”), as if to encourage himself.⁷⁵ Maudave became increasingly embittered that trade did not take off even when peace finally prevailed. He believed the reason for this was that the Malagasy “were very tired of our muskets and other trade goods” (“fort las de nos fusils et autres effets de traite”).⁷⁶ Eventually, Maudave expressed doubts in his diary about the policy of forcing the Malagasy to trade without piastres.⁷⁷ In a letter to the minister of 1 September 1769, reporting on the meagre results of the royal Madagascar trade that year, Poivre himself admitted that it would probably be more difficult than expected to trade without silver coins.⁷⁸ When Maudave was finally about to be recalled at the end of November 1769, he explained to the Minister of the Navy, Praslin, that it was not his colonisation project that had led the Malagasy almost to cease trading. Rather, the cause was the prohibition

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fols. 1 f., 5, 7, 9, 20, register with copy of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre; ANOM, C 5 A 2 no. 35 bis, fol. 5, Poivre to Praslin, 30 November 1769; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 49, fol. 2, Poivre to Glemet, 22 March 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 52, fol. 3 f., copy of a letter by Dumas to Praslin, 26 July 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fol. 3, extracts from Maudave’s diary; MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 11, extracts from Maudave’s diary.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 13, extracts from Maudave’s diary: “Du 16. Oct. J’ai su que le capitaine Amboullois qui est parti hier avait amené 4 esclaves pour les traiter, mais ayant su qu’on ne donnait pas des piastres, il les a ramenés sans en parler. Nous aurons de la peine à faire perdre le goût aux nègres. Cependant il faut tenir bon, dussions-nous en souffrir pendant 10 ans. Ils seront à la fin contraints de s’en passer.”  Ibid., 59.  Ibid., 61. Similarly: 62, 64.  Ibid., 64.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 35, fol. 1, Poivre to Praslin, 1 September 1769.

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of trade in piastres.⁷⁹ Poivre now also recognised this problem and in the early 1770s was forced to pay the princes of the Great Island with silver coins, in order to supply Île de France with food.⁸⁰ Nevertheless, in the medium term, the Indian Ocean administration did not give up the so-called piastre ban. Because private traders continued to buy goods with piastres, Maillart and Ternay, the successors of Poivre and Desroches, preferred to ban them from trading.⁸¹ On the whole, the French imperial actors seem to have greatly overestimated the attractiveness of their own trade. They knew little about trade flows on the island. Colonial officials acted as if they were the only trading partners of the Malagasy princes.⁸² The waning of the slave trade with the French, because of their refusal to pay with piastres, shows that this was not so. The Betsimisaraka of Mahavelona, who were the main suppliers of slaves to the French, took the bulk of the “human goods” from the Merina in the highlands in order to sell them on. Presumably the Merina demanded silver coins and preferred to take their prisoners to other Malagasy regions, for example the northwestern ports (especially Boina), rather than exchange them with the princes of the east coast for French goods.⁸³ Moreover, the Zana-Malata, the descendants of European-American pirates and Malagasy women, obtained some of their slaves from the Muslim traders of Boina who imported them from Africa; French participation in this international trade without silver coins was equally impossible.⁸⁴ Moreover, the Merina produced muskets and gunpowder which were only slightly inferior to the European products. Thus, the princes of the east coast could obtain these goods from the highlands and were not dependent on supplies from France.⁸⁵ The disinterest of the Malagasy of the east coast in French goods is proof that they were able to obtain similar products from other sources. The assumption of the French from the motherland that they could sell to the Malagasy goods of inferior quality, often also second-hand goods, was a major obstacle to trade. Both Valgny and Maudave tell of Malagasy princes who refused to accept guns

 ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 42, fol. 1, copy of two letters from Maudave to Praslin, 17 and 20 November 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 60, Poivre to Boynes, 12 February 1772.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 73, Maillart and Ternay to Boynes, 4 November 1772. For Maillart’s ideas on trade policy, also see C 5 A 4, no. 120, fol. 1, Maillart to the Minister of the Navy, 4 December 1774.  For Maudave’s like claim, see MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 64, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  Berg, “The Sacred Musket”, 267; Campbell, An economic history, 48 f.  Sylla, “Les Malata”, 27.  Berg, “The Sacred Musket”, 268.

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in poor condition.⁸⁶ Poivre also complained to the minister about the poor quality of the goods arriving from France.⁸⁷ From today’s perspective, it is surprising that the French were not aware that they were competing with other trading partners of the Malagasy peoples. After all, the existence of the flourishing port of Boina was known to them, and they were also aware that the English were trading in the southwest of the island.⁸⁸ A similar empirical remoteness can be observed in the plans to produce through colonisation numerous agricultural and industrial goods in Madagascar. The colony of Fort-Dauphin was not merely to be a trading settlement but was itself expected to produce supplies for ships, Île de France and Île Bourbon, as well as for trade with Europe, Asia, Africa and Arabia. The long lists of future agricultural, hunting and mining products occupy much space in the memoranda about Madagascar. The astronomer Legentil came to Madagascar several times in the early 1760s and was instrumental in drawing the attention of the French to the Great Island. He enumerated the following “products of Fort-Dauphin, suitable for trade and subsistence”: wheat, oats, all kinds of vegetables, cattle, sheep (especially the sheep’s tail that was supposed to be delicious), poultry, all kinds of game (especially tasty blackbirds), all kinds of fish (he mentions giant grey mullet), pasturage (better than in Normandy), cane sugar, silk, iron, steel and whale oil. Legentil emphasises that all these goods are either available in large quantities or very easy to produce.⁸⁹ The anonymous author of a memorandum, possibly Maudave, was particularly detailed and systematic in his list of all the products that could be imported or exported: From Europe to Madagascar: brandy; white cloth; jackets, shirts, underpants, vests of cloth from Brittany; jackets and underpants of thick canvas, […] skirts for women; large hats with, or without, white and yellow silk rims; woollen caps; iron kettles; coloured ribbons; Flemish knives; small mirrors; scissors; threads, needles; cotton cloth; muskets; gunpow-

 MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 45, extracts from Maudave’s diary; MHN, Ms. 887, p. 4, Papiers de Commerson, II. “Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Madagascar”, “1. Extraits de quelques journaux sur l’île de Madagascar”.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 35, Poivre to Praslin, 1 September 1769.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 17, 37, extracts from Maudave’s diary; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 87, fol. 11, memorandum by Cossigny, 1 January 1773; ANOM, DFC, XVI I/mémoires/88, no. 53, “Mémoire sur Madagascar”, June 1775; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 74, fol. 35, “Répliques par Article aux demandes faites à M. le baron de Benyowsky par MM. de Bellecombe et Chevreau”, 1776; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 79, fol. 35, “Journal du voyage fait à Madagascar par ordre du gouvernement par le chevalier de la Serre”, 1777.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 11, Legentil, “Productions du Fort-Dauphin propres au commerce et à la vie”, n.d.

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der; flintlocks for muskets; rifle bullets and lead shot; some drinking cups; some faience plates; enamel beads; false corals; false pearls; false stones in all colours for necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings […]. From Madagascar to Europe: wood for shipbuilding; wood for the extraction of dyes; wood for dyes; wood for marquetry; ebony balls; various types of rubber and resin; cowhide […]; cotton and raw silk […]; tobacco; yellow wax; ambergris; tortoise shell; horns; quartz; white turmeric; ginger; long pepper; sago; ravensara; Chinese Smilax [a Chinese medicinal plant, D. T.]; turmeric; dragon’s blood [a type of resin, D. T.]; indigo […]; whale oil and fat […]; various kinds of loincloth; gold and copper […]. From the Coromandel Coast and Bengal to Madagascar: blue and white canvas […]. From China to Madagascar: nankeen cloths in various colours. From Madagascar to the Coromandel and Malabar coasts as well as to Persia and China: iron and copper […]; sugar […]; cotton; ginger; turmeric; wood for house building, dyestuffs and marquetry; betel palms; silk for Surat; various kinds of gum and resin; sea cucumbers; quartz; long pepper; cubeb pepper. From Madagascar to Île de France and Île de Bourbon […]: slaves, cattle and sheep; salted meat; fat and tallow; wheat; rice; wine and brandy […]; fish, dry and salted; hemp rope and many other native plants yielding fibres; all kinds of oil; pitch; wax; sugar. From Madagascar to Mozambique: rice […]; boards and planks; ropes.⁹⁰

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémo ires/88, no. 25, “Notes sur le commerce de Madagascar”, n.d.: “D’Europe à Madagascar: Eaux-de-vie, toile blanche d’Europe, vestes, chemises, calçons, soubrevestes de toile de Bretagne, vestes et culottes de gros draps, de grosses serges, de gros camelots, et jupes pour femmes, gros chapeaux bordés en soye blanche et jaune, et non bordés, bonnets de laine, marmittes de fer, rubans de couleur, couteaux flamands, petits miroirs, cizeaux, fil, Eguilles, cotonine, fusils, poudre de guerre, pierres à fusils, balles, et petits plombs, quelques goblets, quelques assiettes de fayence, des rassades, du faux corail, des fausses perles, des pierres fausses de toutes les couleurs montées pour colliers, boucles d’oreilles, brasselets, bagues […]. De Madagascar en Europe: bois torts pour la construction des vaisseaux, bois pour la teinture, idem pour la marqueterie, billes d’ebenne, sanderousse, ou gomme copal, et différentes autres gommes et résines, cuirs de boeufs tannés, coton et soye bruts […], tabac, cire jaune, ambre gris, ecaille, cornes, cristal de roche, zédoaire, gingembre, poivre long, sagou, ravine sara, esquine, curcuma, sang-dragon, Indigo, […] des huiles et des blancs de baleine […], pagnes de différentes especes, de l’or et du cuivre […]. De la côte de Coromandel et du Bengale à Madagascar: toiles bleues et toiles blanches […]. Et de la Chine à Madagascar: des nankins de différentes couleurs. De Madagascar aux côtes de Coromandel et Malabar, en Perse et à la Chine: du fer et du cuivre […], du sucre […], du coton, du gingembre, du curcuma, des bois pour bâtisse, pour teinture, et pour marqueterie, des noix d’Arèque, des soyes pour Surate, différentes gommes et résines, des bitches de mer, des cristaux de roche, du poivre long, des cubebes. De Madagascar aux Isles de France et de Bourbon : […] des esclaves, des troupeaux de boeufs et de moutons, des salaisons, des graisses et suifs, du bled, du riz, des vins et eaux-de- vie […], des poissons secs et salés, des cordages de chanvre, et de quantité d’autres plantes du Pays qui donnent des filasses, des hu iles de toutes especes, du Bray, de la cire, du sucre. De Madagascar à Mozambique: Du riz […], des planches et madriers, des cordages.”

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In its detail, this long list seems bizarre. For whom was the European clothing intended? Were the Malagasy to dress according to French fashion? Should wood for shipbuilding really be brought from Madagascar to Europe or China? And what were the French to do with Malagasy loincloths? These and similar lists⁹¹ in the archives of the Ministry of the Navy had little to do with empirical knowledge.⁹² As was well known, Madagascar exported slaves, rice and beef almost exclusively. The south of the island, where the colony of Fort-Dauphin was being established, was a particularly poor region.⁹³ Nevertheless, by the middle of the eighteenth century, a fixed catalogue of the supposed riches of the Red Island had become established.⁹⁴ Yet in Madagascar, the production of wheat, cotton, indigo and sugarcane, which the authors of the memoranda had wished for,⁹⁵ was barely developed, or not at all. Neither was there any concrete evidence for the existence of the iron, copper or gold mines that appear in the lists. This did not prevent Maudave from stating apodictically in his diary that “there can be no doubt that there are gold and silver deposits on this island”.⁹⁶ As distant as the lists of potential trade goods may seem from empirical reality, they played an important role in the project to establish a colony in Madagascar. The more or less imaginary products mentioned above also appear in a memorandum by an employee of the Ministry of the Navy, which formed the basis for the decision to approve Maudave’s plan.⁹⁷ Poivre in his reply did caution the minister by highlighting the fact that Madagascar did not yet produce many of the goods listed.⁹⁸ By this time, however, it had long been decided that a colony would be established on the Red Island.

 For example, ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 2, “Projet pour rentrer dans l’Isle dauphine, et s’y établir de maniere que cette France orientalle produise les avantages certains qu’on s’en doit promettre”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 2 f., Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, especially p. 13, 17, [Maudave], “Mémoire sur l’établissement de Madagascar”, [1772].  Wanquet, “Entre Délire de conquête et parcimonie”, 208; Zatorska, Discours colonial, 8 f.  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 60. For the standard work on Anosy, also see Rakotoarisoa, Mille ans d’occupation humaine.  Wanquet, “Entre Délire de conquête et parcimonie”, 208.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 55, 61, extracts from Maudave’s diary.  Ibid, 12: “Il est hors de doute qu’il y a de l’or et de l’argent dans cette île”. At the same time, Maudave criticised Figeac, whom Dumas had sent to Madagascar to search for gold deposits. In doing so, he anticipated a possible failure on Figeac’s part for if, according to Maudave, the latter did not find gold, it would be due to his ineptitude; see ibid., 19.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 27, “Projet d’un établissement à Madagascar”, 21 November 176[?].  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 54, Poivre to Praslin, 29 July 1768.

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Thus, the French plunged into the project of colonising Madagascar with expectations that could hardly be fulfilled. They overvalued the attractiveness of their own trade goods for the Malagasy, ignored the fact that they were in competition with other trading partners and clearly overestimated the resources they could extract from the island. The failure of the colony of Fort-Dauphin had much to do with these and other structural obstacles, foremost among them the epidemiological situation, whose gravity contemporaries could hardly have recognised on the basis of their medical theories. Competition for scarce resources did play a decisive role in the decision to abandon Maudave’s colonisation plans. Nevertheless, it was not diverging interests between Madagascar and Île de France that were the main factor in the abandonment of colonisation attempts, but failures of French policy in Madagascar. Neither was a well-developing colony abandoned out of envy or timidity. Rather, the obstacles to building a colony on the Great Island were so considerable that a significant investment would have been a waste of resources. It may be argued in retrospect that the Comte de Maudave would not have succeeded in colonising Madagascar even if he had had more time and resources. The fundamental mistake lay in the calculations of the colonial politicians, those of the ministerial elite in Versailles as well as those of the agents on the ground. Among the expectations that proved unrealistic was the idea that the French could exercise authority over the Malagasy because of their alleged civilisational superiority.

4 Maudave, or The Optimist Trade could not be separated from politics. It took place between princes and was an essential part of the relations between the high-ranking actors of Anosy. One of the reasons why the French did not succeed in becoming serious trading partners was their lack of authority. Here, there was a deep chasm between aspiration and reality, which will be examined in what follows. Historiography has long failed to recognise this chasm. When Foury wrote Maudave’s history in the 1950s, he was convinced that despite the disastrous record of Fort-Dauphin, the guiding principles of the French count had been correct.¹ In his eyes, a soft policy of civilising had to lead to the voluntary submission of “the Malagasy” as they would recognise the authority of the civilised. According to Foury, the Malagasy were “big children” with a “primitive spirit” over whom Maudave had exercised “spiritual domination”.² He noted Maudave’s initial errors but was convinced that the situation in the settlement had improved over time.³ Against this background, the abandonment of the colony by Desroches appeared to be a bad decision, made under the influence of private interests.⁴ As shown in the previous chapter, the scholarly literature largely followed this assessment even in postcolonial times, without sufficiently reflecting the colonialist assumptions on which it was based. Even though Claude Wanquet, Jean-Michel Racault and other (literary) historians have examined the colonial worldview of Maudave and his contemporaries,⁵ there is still no well-researched narrative of the French settlement in Anosy that takes into account more recent approaches and scholarly findings. This chapter is concerned with three things. First, additional reasons for the failure of the French in Madagascar after the Seven Years War will be examined, beginning with a focus on the work of Governor Maudave. What political strat-

 Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 46, 70.  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 397 (“grands enfants”); ibid., 36, 57 (“esprit primitif”).  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, especially 15 – 46, 63.  Ibid., 53 – 55.  Wanquet, “Entre Délire de conquête et parcimonie”; Racault, “Les premières tentatives coloniales”; Racault, Jean-Michel, “Histoire et enjeux d’un mythe anthropologique. Les Quimos de Madagascar à la fin du XVIIIe siècle”, in: La Revue des ressources (publ. 9 March 2010), URL: https://www.larevuedesressources.org/histoire-et-enjeux-d-un-mythe-anthropologique-les-quimos-de-madagascar-a-la-fin-du-18e,1536.html (last accessed April 4, 2018); Gigan, “Bernardin de Saint-Pierre”; Rambeloson-Rapiera, “Madagascar et les Malgaches”; Jacob, “Le Madécasse et les Lumières”. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-006

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egies did he pursue? How did he relate to the local elites and how did he interpret them? Second, the study offers a new narrative of the history of Fort-Dauphin between 1768 and 1770, which is not a colonial history but that of a French-Malagasy encounter. Insights into the history of the relations between Malagasy and French elites will therefore be provided in the sense of a connected history. In this context, the question arises as to the extent to which the creation of a transcultural space could facilitate a successful symbolic communication between the French and the Malagasy. More recent scholarship emphasises the hybridisation processes in ritualised political contacts between Europeans and non-Europeans in the early modern period. The concomitant emergence of transculturality often enabled the actors to interpret signs set by the Other, despite some uncertainties and disappointed expectations.⁶ Third, this chapter treats of the emergence of a new colonialist worldview in the late 1760s and early 1770s. The way in which the French elites processed the experience of failure in their writings will be analysed along with the two personalities central to this, the Comte de Maudave and his critic Valgny, the former commander of Nosy Boraha. The study of these writings allows insights into the cultural legacy of the short-lived settlement in Anosy between 1768 and 1772, a legacy which consisted in the development of a colonialist imaginary.

Rule by Natural Authority Maudave’s entire colonisation project was based on the assumption that the civilisational superiority of the French would give them a natural authority over the Malagasy. Thus, the French governor wrote in his diary: Although the Malagasy have a very good opinion of themselves on almost all points, it is amazing how much they see themselves as destined to be naturally submissive to the whites. This preconception comes from the real superiority that we have over them, and which they cannot fail to notice once they have compared their miserable social order [police], their unhappy, unsteady and restless life, and the coarseness of their arts with what they have hitherto seen of our manners, our industry and our way of life. They admire us and say that they are but animals compared to us.⁷

 Burschel, Peter, “Einleitung”, in: Burschel, Peter/Christine Vogel (eds.), Die Audienz. Ritualisierter Kulturkontakt in der Frü hen Neuzeit, Köln/Weimar/Wien 2014, 7– 15, 11– 15; Brauner, Kompanien, Könige und caboceers, 163 – 225, 254– 264.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 27, extracts from Maudave’s diary: “Ce qui est étonnant, c’est que quoiqu’en général, ils aient presque sur tous les points assez bonne opinion d’eux mémes ils se condam-

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Maudave’s strategy was based on demonstrating to the Malagasy elite the moral and technical superiority of the French, which he believed had a great effect. He paid for the zebus that some princes had wanted to give him as presents, so as to impress them with his generosity.⁸ According to him, all the Malagasy were utterly “amazed and charmed” (“frappés et charmés”) by the bust of Louis XV that stood in Government House.⁹ His neighbour and ally, Prince Dian Mananzac, apparently admired the Catholic Mass.¹⁰ Maudave constantly speculated about how to secure the deference and respect of the Malagasy. At one time he proposed the creation of a cavalry corps of 200 dragoons,¹¹ at another he hoped that the building of a new residence for the governor would amaze the locals.¹² He announced that in future, he would have a new fortification wall built which would ensure him the adoration of the Malagasy, because “the stupidity and ignorance of these peoples” was so great that “a simple wall would seem to them like the greatest effort of the human spirit”.¹³ Even the use of cattle for ploughing, according to the Frenchman, should in the foreseeable future awaken the admiration of the “natives” (“naturels”) of the Red Island.¹⁴ In his letters and his diary, Maudave discloses a great contempt for the princes of Anosy and a high regard for himself. He quotes the article “Rohandrian” from the Encyclopédie approvingly which, alluding to the privilege of ritual slaughter, states that in Madagascar, European butchers would be worthy princes.¹⁵ He refuses to call the Zafiraminia “kings” according to custom, explaining that they had no more than 3,000 subjects and lived in simple huts.¹⁶ “King” would imply an equality of status between the minor princes of Anosy and Louis XV; the Zafiraminia would thus rank above the French governor. The

nent à une soumission naturelle envers les blancs. Ce préjugé est fondé sur la supériorité réelle que nous avons sur eux et qui n’a pas pu leur échapper quand ils comparent leur misérable police, leur vie errante, malheureuse et agitée, la grossièreté de leurs arts avec ce qu’ils ont pu voir jusqu’à présent de nos mœurs, de notre industrie et de notre manière de vivre en tombant dans l’admiration et ils disent qu’en effet ils ne sont que des bêtes comparés à nous.”  Ibid., 39.  Ibid., 63.  Ibid., 42.  Ibid., 29.  Ibid., 43.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fol. 22, extracts from Maudave’s diary: “Telle est l’ignorance et l’ineptie de ces peuples qu’un simple mur leur parait le dernier effort de l’esprit humain.”  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 11, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 47, fol. 7 f., Maudave to the Minister of the Navy, 28 August 1770.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 11, excerpts from Maudave’s diary. Also see ibid., p. 15; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 1, copies of documents on Madagascar by Michel.

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Comte de Maudave, however, claimed to be at least equal to the Zafiraminia, if not superior. He reported not without pride that the princes of Anosy wanted to bestow on him the title of a Roandriana. Even though this title only put the governor of Fort-Dauphin on an equal footing with the village elders, Maudave used this as an opportunity to suggest that the Zafiraminia must have felt he was superior to them.¹⁷ In Maudave’s writings, it was not sovereignty but, above all, the superiority of the European “arts” that constituted the true hierarchy. He claimed that the Roandriana would sense this. At the same time, he alleged that they explained these incomprehensible technical feats by the fact that he had access to magical powers: All this dulls their imagination and they would see me as a rich and powerful Roandriana, if it had not been for the subtle way in which the clever [trade clerk, D. T.] Avril had made them understand that the whites have a king, [and] that this king had given [one of his, D. T.] subjects a little piece of paper that forces everyone to obey him. […] [T]hey are beginning to understand that though I am not a king, I command by virtue of a talisman (gris-gris) which is more powerful than any of theirs.¹⁸

Maudave thought Avril’s explanation wise because in Madagascar, writing was indeed considered to have magical powers. He presented himself to the reader as someone who, because of the civilisational divide, enjoyed the reputation of a great sorcerer. Under such conditions, it should be easy to persuade these minor princes to recognise the higher authority of Fort-Dauphin. It would suffice to use “soft” and, as it were, natural means: “often to give small gifts [to the princes], show great respect for them, and settle disputes between them and their neighbours”.¹⁹ Maudave expected tremendous successes from such a policy, claiming that he would make the entire island a colony.²⁰ For not only would the superiority of the European “arts” impress the Malagasy, but attracted by the justice of

 MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 60, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  Ibid.: “Tout cela brouille leur imagination et ils s’opiniâtreraient encore à me regarder comme un riche et puissant Rohandrian sans la sagacité de mon Avril qui leur a finement expliqué que les blancs avaient un roi, que ce roi donnait un petit morceau de papier à ses sujets et vertu duquel ils étaient tous obligés de lui obéir. […] [I]ls commencent à comprendre que je pourrai bien n’être pas roi mais que je commande en vertu d’un grisgris d’une force supérieure à tous les leurs.”  Ibid., 10: “leur faire souvent de petits cadeaux, présens, de leur marquer une grande considération, de pacifier soigneusement les démélés qui s’élèveront entre lui et ses voisins”.  “J’embrasserai l’isle dans la totalité d’un établissement général.”; ibid., 28.

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the French government and the security that it promised, the people of Anosy would submit themselves voluntarily to the authority of the French king.²¹ The Governor of Fort-Dauphin assumed that the Malagasy changed kings quickly in any case – a notion that may have stemmed from the fact that the kingdoms of the Great Island did not have a system of primogeniture and therefore often had several candidates from the extended family (especially brothers and sons of the deceased) who competed with each other for the kingship.²² Maudave dreamed of the establishment of a new kind of settlement that would be neither a mere colony of “white” settlers nor a plantation colony with slaves. He even intended to outlaw slavery in Fort-Dauphin and only use it to punish criminals.²³ His distant goal was to end the slave trade in the south of the Great Island so as not to depopulate the Tôlanaro region. In the long term, the domination of the whole of Madagascar by the French would make the importation of slaves into the Mascarenes redundant anyway, as the free local workforce would produce all the necessary colonial goods.²⁴ However, this vision did not make Maudave an abolitionist, as in his eyes, the prohibition of slavery in the new colony was not to be extended to other areas. As the selfproclaimed patron of the native princes, Maudave also committed himself to protecting all their property, including their slaves.²⁵ Moreover, Malagasy goods were to be used as objects of exchange in the slave trade in the Indian Ocean.²⁶ After all, it was part of Maudave’s duties as governor of Fort-Dauphin to engage in the slave trade, and he did participate in it.²⁷ In order to make the strategy of the voluntary subordination of the Malagasy plausible to his readers, Maudave painted the greatest possible contrast between his rule and that of the princes of Anosy. While in the future, he would build a hospital that would admit the young and the sick free of charge,²⁸ the Roandriana according to him displayed the worst kind of tyranny: “[The] princes [of the Malagasy, D. T.] are all small, greedy and cruel tyrants who slit the throats of

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 28, fol. 3, memorandum by Maudave, 6 December 1767. Similarly in MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 14, 56, excerpts from Maudave’s diary; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 12, fol. 11, copy of documents on Madagascar.  Kent, “Religion and State”, 282.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 3, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 16 f., [Maudave], “Mémoire sur l’établissement de Madagascar”, n.d.  Ibid., 12.  ANOM, DFC, XV II/mémoires/88, no. 27, fol. 2, “Projet d’un établissement à Madagascar”, 21 November 176[?].  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 35, 47.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 28, excerpts from Maudave’ s diary.

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their subjects and take everything from them for the slightest offence.”²⁹ Maudave did not shy away from contradicting himself. He admitted that the authority of the Roandriana was “very limited” while, at the same time, he saw them as terrible despots with great assertiveness: “They punish [people, D. T.] harshly for the slightest offences, especially if it is in their personal interest. They impose the death penalty and confiscate all property for the smallest trifles.”³⁰ He contended that the Malagasy were most “indolent” (“lâche indolence”) and “submissive” (“la plus basse soumission”) to these tyrants while simultaneously claiming that very often, they emigrated to a different territory to escape despotism.³¹ In Maudave’s view, a soft approach would lead to the assimilation of the Malagasy in the medium term. The indigenous peoples would develop the needs of civilised peoples and emulate the “whites” in their industriousness. Thus, the establishment of a colony should encourage them to work.³² Slowly, the Malagasy would adopt French customs. Marriages between the French and the Malagasy, which Maudave wanted to permit and of which he generally approved, would soon produce new industrious French-speaking citizens.³³ Moreover, the younger generations would convert to Christianity. It is significant that Maudave did not anticipate the creation of a permanent mixed culture.³⁴ The process of integration should not result in acculturation but in the complete absorption of the Malagasy into the French nation.³⁵ In his eyes, the religion of the Malagasy was not an obstacle on the path to assimilation. Maudave had no illusions about the fact that the adults would not make particularly good Catholics. To become such, they would have to give up some of what he considered “very vicious and very corrupt customs” (“mœurs très vicieuses et très corrompue”) such as polygamy. Moreover, in his opinion, they were of “all too limited intelligence” (“intelligence trop bornée”).³⁶ It would take some time to get them to adopt the “fashion of foreskins and

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 28, fol. 3, memorandum by Maudave, 6 December 1767: “Leurs Princes sont tous de petits tirans avides et cruels qui les égorgent et les dépouillent pour le plus leger intérêt.”  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fol. 26, excerpts from Maudave’s diary: “Ils punissent rudement les moindres fautes, surtout si elles blessent leurs intérêts personnels. La Mort ou la perte des biens s’infligent pour les plus petites bagatelles.”  Ibid.; MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 55, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 11, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 28, fol. 2, memorandum by Maudave, 6 December 1767.  Ibid.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 28, memorandum by Maudave, 6 December 1767.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 22, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.

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blood sausages” (“mode des prépuces et des boudins”).³⁷ That is why the governor of Fort-Dauphin first wanted to teach them only the “principles of natural religion” (“principes de la religion naturelle”)³⁸ or, as he also put it, “first work on making them human beings, in order to turn them effortlessly into Christians later”.³⁹ According to Maudave, all this was possible because the Malagasy had “no cult” but only some “prejudices and customs of Jewish and Muslim origin”.⁴⁰ At the same time, Maudave in his statements about the religion of the Malagasy performed a balancing act between his decidedly optimistic assessment of the islanders’ readiness to become Christian and the statement that they were very attached to practices that were incompatible with Christianity. He saw that the monopoly of ritual slaughter was of central importance to the Roandriana.⁴¹ He also reported on the high value that the upper class placed on the magical practices of the ombiasy. ⁴² However, the governor of Fort-Dauphin did not give up his expectations of assimilation. This was partly because he applied European categories to those Malagasy practices that concerned relationships with the invisible world. In fact, Maudave clearly distinguished between religion and superstition. In his eyes, the religious practices of the inhabitants of Anosy fell into the category of superstition and were therefore doomed to extinction.⁴³ Maudave also believed that even without religious legitimacy, he had political authority. He separated religion and politics. However, before the nineteenth century, the Malagasy language did not make any distinction between magic, religion and politics. For the Malagasy, there was only one principle of power: the hasina which, thanks to an active ancestor cult, was passed on to the prince by his ancestors.⁴⁴ The kings of earlier times were not simply considered dead figures from a bygone era but were seen as actors who had influence on what

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fol. 30, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 38, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 3, copy of documents on Madagascar: “commencer enfin par en faire des hommes, pour en faire ensuite des Chretiens.”  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 22, excerpts from Maudave’s diary: “Ils n’ont aucun culte établi. Ils ne tiennent qu’à des préjugés et des mœurs reçus de leurs pères, dans lesquels on trouve des observances juives et mahométanes.”  Ibid., p. 60.  Ibid., p. 25, 36 f., 51.  For example ibid., 25; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 47, fol. 18, Maudave to the Minister of the Navy, 28 August 1770.  Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 62, 109.

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Fig. 5: Rova (Royal House) of Ambositra, eighteenth century (state of building in 2015, after reconstruction in the 2000s).

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was happening at present.⁴⁵ In contrast to the Antaimoro who lived further north, the Antanosy did not even differentiate between political and religious dignitaries. Anosy’s upper class based its authority on esoteric-magical knowledge. The monopoly of ceremonies such as circumcision and animal sacrifice, which played a central role in ancestor worship, conferred great prestige on the Zafiraminia. The possession of objects that were used in animal sacrifice, or the ownership of “Great Houses” at the centre of the settlements and decorated with symbolic wooden zebu horns (Fig. 5), were no less important.⁴⁶ As empirically remote as Maudave’s expectations may seem, they were taken completely seriously by the political elite of the motherland. When the Minister of the Navy Praslin instructed Maudave to establish a colony in Madagascar, he did so explicitly on the basis of these principles which he considered “so clear and lucid” that he “saw nothing that could be said against them”.⁴⁷ The administrators of Île de France were more cautious. Poivre approved of Maudave’s basic idea but warned against overlooking, out of sheer enthusiasm, the fact that the road to assimilating the Malagasy would be long and difficult.⁴⁸

Transcultural Communication Maudave convinced the Minister of the Navy Praslin that the French could achieve authority and rule over the Malagasy by virtue of their civilisational superiority. Based on this premise, the display of civilisation and various associated practices of symbolic communication initially formed the core of his politics. But what do the symbolic interactions between the governor of Fort-Dauphin and the princes of Anosy tell us about the possible recognition of his authority? Did the local upper class even understand the signals that the French count was sending, or must we assume that differences in semiotisation exacerbated communication between the two sides?

 To this day, this belief is held by a significant part of Malagasy society; see Lambek, The Weight of the Past; Rahamefy, Le Roi ne meurt pas; Ballarin, Les Reliques royales.  This was true for the Zafiraminia and the kingdoms of the Antaimoro; see Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, 253 – 261.  See the project of a colony, submitted to Praslin, the Minister of the Navy, who marked it “Approuvé”; in ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/ 88, no. 27, “Projet d’un établissement à Madagascar”, 21 November 176[?]: “si clairs et lumineux que je vois pas ce qu’on pourrait y opposer”. Also see the draft of a letter from Praslin to Dumas and Poivre; in ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 31, Praslin to Dumas and Poivre, n.d. (quotation: fol. 1).  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 54, fol. 2, Poivre to Praslin, 29 July 1768.

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When Maudave arrived in Madagascar in 1768, the rituals for establishing relations between Anosy’s upper class and the officers of the French crown were already well established. The French had to submit to a ritual found in a similar form in West Africa, possibly introduced by pirates of European and American origin,⁴⁹ which they found extremely repugnant. Referring to himself in the third person, Maudave described it in his diary immediately after his arrival: This august ceremony was performed in the middle of the esplanade of the fort. One placed a large cup of brandy there mixed with gunpowder, flintlocks and bullets. Dian Mananzac – this is the name of the black prince – was surrounded by his own, all of whom were armed. He was opposite the governor [Maudave, D. T.], who in turn was surrounded by Frenchmen. He dipped the tip of his spear in the cup, in which Maudave also dipped his sword. He stood in this proud pose as he recited his oath. It contained the promise not to harm the French in any way including those who would come to Fort-Dauphin for the purpose of trade, and to give them all the help they would ask for. After the same, more or less, had been promised by the French, [Dian Mananzac, D. T.] took the cup in his hand and drank the greater part of the contents in several gulps. He left the rest to the French leader, who also drank or pretended to drink from it […].⁵⁰

Maudave does not write to what extent he saw his position adequately reflected in this ritual of fetish drinking, as it is called in scholarship. The term “august ceremony”, which is to be understood ironically, suggests that Maudave considered this ritual ridiculous and adhered to it only as a courtesy to his Malagasy neighbour. Nonetheless, the governor of Fort-Dauphin had no reason to feel humiliated by Dian Mananzac’s symbolic communication. After all, through the symmetry of the postures, gestures and oaths, the ritual suggested an equality between the two sides. Moreover, it took place in the French fort.⁵¹

 Hooper, “Pirates and Kings”, 232.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 2, excerpts from Maudave’s diary: “Cette auguste cérémonie a été exécutée au milieu de l’esplanade du fort. On a mis à terre une grande tasse pleine d’eau de vie, de poudre à canon, de pierres et de balles à fusil. Dian Mananzac, c’est le nom du prince noir, entourré de tous les siens, leurs armes à la main, étaient vis à vis du gouverneur que les français du fort environnaient aussi. Il a trempé le bout de sa sagaye dans la tasse où Modave a mis également la pointe de son épée. Il s’est tenu dans cette fière attitude pendant qu’il prononçait son serment. Lequel portait en substance qu’il jurait de ne faire aucun tort aux français ni à ceux qui viendraient en traite au fort Dauphin et de donner toutes les aides et assistances qu’on lui demanderait. Après avoir été prononcé à peu près les mêmes choses de la part du français, il a pris la tasse et a bu à différentes reprises la meilleure partie, abandonnant gracieusement le reste au chef français qui en a bu aussi ou fait semblant de boire en observant les mêmes.” For this ritual, which probably originates in West Africa: Hooper, “Pirates and Kings”, 232.  The location of the meeting was important to Maudave, but no information has survived about the role that the choice of location played for the princes of Anosy.

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At the same time, the Malagasy prince clearly defined the forms of symbolic communication. Only with difficulty could Maudave avoid certain rituals of friendship-making that were particularly repugnant to him. Again and again, he had to ingest the mixture of brandy, gunpowder and inedible objects described above.⁵² However, he did not drink the blood of one of his allies: Dian Ramasoulone proposed the oath of alliance and friendship, which was made as described above. But this chief wanted to give more power to this ceremony and asked for a razor to make a cut [in his own skin, D. T.], let blood flow from it and give it to the French chief [to drink, D. T.], who would do likewise. He was asked to refrain from doing this by being told that French chiefs only drink the blood of their enemies. This excuse was met with exclamations from the whole troop and each side contented itself with drinking seven times in succession from the decoction of flintlocks and gold and silver powders that had been added to the brandy.⁵³

Presumably thanks to the advice of his interpreter Avril, Maudave was able to provide an explanation that allowed him to avoid the ritual without affronting the dignity of his rival; a ritual which, in his eyes, might have called into question his own affiliation with the civilised. In this case, cultural difference was constructed through a mutually acceptable and, at the same time, entirely novel semiotisation of blood-drinking, with the French claiming that they only drank the blood of their enemies. With the help of this interpretation, both sides saved face. The French were able to make clear that their refusal to participate in the ritual was not due to the person of Dian Ramasoulone; nor did they question the blood-drinking itself, which would have hurt the feelings of their Malagasy partners. This strategy also meant that the Malagasy symbolic system was left untouched. Over the decades, the French administrators remarked several times that these “barbaric” rituals of alliance-making must be abolished. They claimed that these practices were not only disgusting but were based on a ridiculous superstition unworthy of an enlightened and civilised nation. For the Malagasy, taking this oath implied a willingness to be punished by invisible forces if one

 MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 5, 47, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  Ibid., p. 5: “Dian Ramasoulone a proposé le serment d’union et de fraternité qui a été fait comme dessus. Mais le dernier chef voulait donner plus de force à cette cérémonie a demandé un rasoir. Lorsqu’on a demandé à en savoir l’usage, il a fait dire que c’était pour faire une incision et en tirer de son sang dont le chef français boirait en lui rendait politesse pour politesse. On l’a prié de se dispenser de cette formalité en lui disant que les chefs de guerre français ne s’abreuvaient jamais que du sang de leurs ennemis. Cette excuse a été reçue avec exclamation de toute la troupe et on s’est contenté de part et d’autre de boire à sept reprises différentes une décoction de pierres à fusil, de poudre, d’or et d’argent bien détrempés dans de l’eau de vie.”

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did not keep one’s promise. This is shown by the oath of another Malagasy prince: If I discover a plot against the French and do not reveal it to them, may this brandy turn to poison for me, may the powder it contains burn me to the bone [and] the rifles and spears that have been dipped in it pierce my heart and crush my head.⁵⁴

Maudave, too, writes that it was astonishing that the “leaders of civilised nations” (“chefs de nations policées”) should have observed this barbaric ritual for so many years. It would have been more correct to accustom the Malagasy to trusting the word of honour of the French. In the future, as soon as the French held an awe-inspiring position, this ridiculous ceremony could be done away with, he maintained.⁵⁵ But this was precisely the problem. The French did not occupy a dominant position in Madagascar that would have allowed them to dictate the rituals. As in the seventeenth century, French actors had to integrate themselves into Malagasy social structures if they wanted to make a difference. Private traders had to marry local women, preferably the daughter of a village elder, and buy a house that served as a warehouse. From the Catholic Church’s point of view, such a marriage was mere concubinage – and indeed, many traders also had a French wife in the Mascarene Islands –, but trade could only be conducted thanks to this social institution. The Frenchman told his woman the kinds of goods he needed, and she travelled through the country to buy them for him. If she belonged to a more powerful clan, she could acquire goods at a lower price. When enough goods had been bought, the Frenchman paid her with silver coins, scarves, necklaces, metal goods or brandy. Moreover, the relationship contracted between the French trader and the Malagasy woman involved obligations. For the natives, this was very much a real marriage such as would have existed between two indigenous people.⁵⁶ During the trading season, relatives came to visit and one was also supposed to give them gifts, especially brandy.⁵⁷

 MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 47, excerpts from Maudave’s diary: “si je découvre quelques conjurations contre les français et que je les leur révèle pas, que cette eau de vie que je bois se tourne en poison contre moi, que la poudre dont elle est mêlée me brûle jusqu’aux os, que les balles, les fusils et les sagayes qui y sont trempé me percent le cœur, me cassent la tête”.  Ibid, p. 54.  Mayeur, Nicolas, “Voyage dans le nord de Madagascar, au Cap d’Ambre et à quelques îles du Nord-Ouest, par Mayeur, novembre 1774–janvier 1776. Rédigé par Barthélémy Huet de Froberville”, in: Bulletin de l’Académie Malgache 10 (1913), 93 – 142, 142.  Tombe, Voyage aux Indes orientales, 90. Sémerville and Frappaz also describe this phenomenon; see Sémerville, “Le voyage de lieutenant de vaisseau de Sémerville à l’Île Sainte-Marie en

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In order to form a close friendship with a clan, Maudave should likewise have “accepted” the daughter of one of Anosy’s princes. The Malagasy partners certainly expected their allies to establish a relationship of kinship.⁵⁸ However, Maudave was married and probably from the outset wanted his wife to come to him from Île de France. Dian Mananzac, with whom Maudave had initially allied himself as closely as possible, nevertheless wanted to bind the governor of Fort-Dauphin to himself by means of his women. He told him “that he only had two wives, but that it would be fair to share them with him”. Later, Maudave commented on this as follows: “the funny thing about the story is that he sent for them straight away and I had to accept one of them.”⁵⁹ From the diary entry written by Maudave ten days later, it appears that Dian Mananzac “at [his] request renounced the gallantry which he thought he had displayed by giving him one of [his wives]”.⁶⁰ Maudave thought that the matter had been settled when ten days later, Dian Mananzac, who according to Maudave had drunk too much wine and brandy, again sent for his wife for the Frenchman. It was only with the greatest difficulty that the governor of Fort-Dauphin was able to refuse the offer.⁶¹ Maudave was aware that his refusal could cause offence.⁶² The decisive symbolic actions in the Malagasy tradition originated in the most important ceremonies to establish a close and binding alliance. Animal sacrifice and the relationship with the ancestors played a central role. Maudave, however, made sure that at the same time, there was a symbolic connection to France. As for Europeans, clothing was the mark of civility par excellence, he presented Dian Mananzac with a French suit, which the Malagasy prince wore during the ceremony:

1824”, ed. Raymond Decary, in: Bulletin de l’Académie Malgache, nouvelle série, 16 (1933), 17– 59, 32; Frappaz, Voyages, 121. Hugon, a trader, claims to leave all his belongings in Fort-Dauphin in the hands of a Malagasy woman when he leaves the area. She was probably his wife; see ANOM, MAD 7 15, Barthélémy Hugon, “Relation sur l’isle de Sainte-Marie, accompagnée de détails sur Tamatave, Foulpointe, et sur le baron de Beniowsky”, February 1818.  See the final paragraph of ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 14, fol. 29, “Voyage de Fort Dauphin à la baie Sainte Luce par terre, ainsi que le retour sur la côte sud de Madagascar, par le chevalier Mengaud de la Hage, commandant le vaisseau du roi Le Gros Ventre, en décembre 1775”, n.d.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 6, excerpts from Maudave’s diary: “Il a ensuite dit à M. de Modave qu’il n’avait que deux femmes mais que comme il était son frère, il était juste qu’il partageât avec lui, et le bon de l’histoire est qu’il les a envoyé chercher aussitôt et qu’il faudra absolument en accepter une.”  Ibid., p. 8.  Ibid., p. 10.  Ibid.

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After dinner, Dian Mananzac was given a full French suit. M. de Maudave and he then went immediately to the grave of Mananzac’s father. There, an ox was sacrificed and [Dian Mananzac, D. T.] solemnly declared that he recognised us as his friends and protectors, that he would give us the lands which he had transferred to us in the morning [of the same day, D. T.], that he was no longer a Malagasy but a Frenchman, that if the English did anything against us, we could command his people. M. de Maudave responded in much the same way. Maudave had moreover invited the gentlemen of the Royal Navy, who also swore the same oath. Dian Mananzac was dressed in the French style and looked good in it.⁶³

Unfortunately, Maudave does not report what his own oath stated. The text, however, suggests a reciprocity that contradicts his claim to be more than an equal partner. What is also striking in this description is that Maudave emphasised both Dian Mananzac’s oath of allegiance to the French and his clothing.⁶⁴ In the eyes of the governor of Fort-Dauphin, they had established a symbolic assimilation of the Malagasy prince, which was the goal of the colonisation project. In contrast, the sacrifice of the zebu on the grave of Dian Mananzac’s father, which was a central act in the eyes of the Antanosy, is mentioned only in passing; Maudave does not explain its significance to his superiors. In fact, this ritual implied an obligation on Dian Mananzac’s part to his ancestors and not to the French. To whom Dian Mananzac would be loyal in the event of a conflict of interest between his ancestor and the French was questionable. What would Mananzac do if the French did not help him to take up his father’s inheritance? A potential tension existed here, which Maudave passed over in his report. The encounter between Maudave and Dian Mananzac was ultimately characterised by ambiguities similar to those identified by Christina Brauner for the Gold and Slave Coasts.⁶⁵

 Ibid, p. 6: “Après diné, Dian Mananzac a reçu un habillement complet. Il l’a étalé aussitôt. M. de Modave et lui sont allés tout de suite sur le tombeau de son père. On y a immolé un bœuf et là il a déclaré hautement qu’il nous reconnaissait pour ses amis et protecteurs. Qu’il nous faisait don des terres reconnues le matin; que ni lui ni sa postérité ne les réclameraient jamais, qu’il nous en garantisait la paisible jouissance contre tous les habitants du pays, qu’il n’était plus Madécasse mais Français. Que si les Anglais entreprenaient jamais de nous troubler, nous pourrions disposer de lui et de tous ses gens pour nous défendre. Le serment contenait beaucoup d’autres articles semblables. M. de Modave y a répondu à peu près sur le même ton. Il avait invité à la cérémonie messieurs de la Marine du roi qui ont aussi prononcé le serment. Dian Mananzac était habillé à la française et n’avait point du tout mauvaise mine.”  For a similar use of garments of European provenance by West African rulers, see Brauner, Kompanien, Könige und caboceers, 254 f. These princes wanted to demonstrate having access to objects from afar.  Brauner, Christina, “Beim ‘König’ von Anomabo. Audienzen an der westafrikanischen Goldkü ste als Schauplatz afrikanischer Politik und europäischer Konkurrenz (1751/52)”, in: Burschel,

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In keeping with his optimistic assessment that he could not only gain the goodwill of the Roandriana but also subdue them with gifts and by showing respect, the governor of Fort-Dauphin tried to use the honour he bestowed or refused as a political tool. Essentially he resorted to four ways of honouring his visitors: salutes with cannon salvos; a reception with soldiers forming a guard of honour; gifts; and lavish hospitality with brandy.⁶⁶ In the first weeks after his arrival, Maudave attached great importance to the nobles announcing themselves and presenting him and his family with gifts, which they usually did.⁶⁷ Initially, he occasionally refused to receive Roandriana when, for his liking, they did not bring enough livestock or send anyone to pay a compliment.⁶⁸ He also thought it inappropriate to send an escort to the wife of a Roandriana, who wanted to come to Fort-Dauphin, although she had probably asked for one in view of the dire security situation.⁶⁹ Whenever he was dissatisfied with his ally Dian Mananzac, he refused to pay him the customary tributes.⁷⁰ In his diary, however, Maudave was quick to express his frustration about the Roandriana not paying him enough respect: “These so-called princes are unpolished and crude […]; it is useless to compliment them: they only answer by repeating ‘Saha’ – which means ‘that is good’ – once or twice […].”⁷¹ The Roandriana were conscious of their dignity and in no way recognised Maudave as superior to them. Though they sometimes gave in to Maudave’s demands – for example, after an initial refusal, the above-mentioned wife of the Roandriana came to Tôlanaro without an escort –, they complained loudly when Maudave gave them what they considered an insignificant gift.⁷² The most distinguished among them demanded truly rare presents and Maudave was not always able to supply them with these choice goods. Raimaz, the most powerful prince of Anosy, for example, asked among other things for violins for his father’s funeral.⁷³ The wishes and complaints of the Malagasy princes show that they were

Peter/Christine Vogel (eds.), Die Audienz. Ritualisierter Kulturkontakt in der Frü hen Neuzeit, Köln/ Weimar/Wien 2014, 265 – 306.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 4 f., 7– 9, 25, 42, 45, excerpts from Maudave’s diary. For gun salutes in the West African context, see Brauner, Kompanien, Könige und caboceers, 255 f.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 9, 20, 45, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  Ibid., 8.  Ibid., 9.  Ibid., 12.  Ibid., 10 (entry of 5 October 1768): “Ces espèces de princes sont bruts et grossiers […]; il est superflu de leur faire des compliments; ils ne répondent qu’en répétant une fois ou deux Saha, Voilà qui est bien.”  Ibid., 12.  Ibid., 35.

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well familiar with the European symbolic language. In fact, they demanded to be received in Fort-Dauphin in a manner befitting their rank, that is, with cannon salvos and soldiers forming a guard of honour.⁷⁴ For the governor of the settlement it was therefore crucial to assess the rank of the Antanosy correctly and to treat them accordingly. Occasionally, Maudave made serious mistakes in this regard. Although he received a high-ranking Roandriana with a gun salute and soldiers forming a guard of honour, for example, he presented him only with “the usual gift” (“le présent ordinaire”) – Maudave does not give more precise information here – and gave him neither European clothing nor gunpowder. The prince went away annoyed. When Maudave subsequently learned that the Roandriana was the father-in-law of the most important “king” of the region, he immediately sent a courier to fetch him back and showered him with gifts. The prince accepted these gestures of apology.⁷⁵ The symbolic practices and numerous negotiations regarding honour reveal four things. First, the French and the Antanosy certainly understood the semiotisations of the Other. The princes of Anosy were able to instrumentalise the French gestures of honour to their own ends in order to demonstrate their rank. Even if Maudave, for his part, did not understand the religious world of the Antanosy well, he knew that binding alliances could only be created through fetish drinking and animal sacrifice. This was sufficient for generating symbolic communication without cultural misunderstandings. Second, some Roandriana accepted the integration of symbols in rituals of alliance-making which, in French eyes, were a sign of future assimilation; above all, European dress and the oath to be French henceforth. The stringingtogether of heterogeneous signs from different systems permitted ambiguities and different interpretations of the exact relationship between Maudave and Dian Mananzac. Maudave in his diary was thus able to give the impression that his neighbour had accepted French sovereignty. Third, narrow limits were set nevertheless to the creation of a transcultural space as the Antanosy determined all further action. The French could not evade them without significantly weakening the binding force of the agreement. The latter only succeeded when through the ritual of drinking blood, the French managed ad hoc to produce a semiotisation which left both the alliance and the Malagasy ritual untouched. The Malagasy allies constantly demanded the observance of religiously-charged rituals which they essentially determined. Obviously, Maudave’s creative power was limited.

 Ibid., 42, 45.  Ibid., 42.

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Fourth, Maudave was not in a position to grant favours at his own discretion. Many Roandriana even demonstrated their superiority by the way they asked to be received at Fort-Dauphin and how they left displeased if they felt the ceremony did not reflect their rank. There is no mistaking that contrary to his original promise, Maudave did not develop into a dominant actor in Anosy. The symbolic actions that were intended to establish his supremacy did not have the desired effect.

Political Irrelevance Why did Maudave not succeed in playing a significant political role in southeastern Madagascar? His diary shows that the governor of Fort-Dauphin arrived in a region that was in a state of war and that in this situation, he made political decisions that contributed substantially to his failure. Tôlanaro belonged to the territory of a Zafiraminia by the name of Dian Mananzac, who was at war with Maimbo,⁷⁶ the Antanosy king who resided in Fanjahira. Dian Mananzac claimed to have been cheated out of his father’s inheritance, the territory of Tôlanaro, by Maimbo and, without the latter’s consent, seized this region.⁷⁷ Having barely arrived in the Bay of Tôlanaro on 5 September 1768, Maudave made friends with Dian Mananzac, apparently without considering the consequences of such an alliance. Three days later, on 8 September, he summoned Maimbo to appear before him, but the latter did not comply with his request. At this point in time, Maudave was aware of the conflict situation as on the same day, he recounts the oath that Dian Mananzac had sworn on the grave of his father, promising with the help of the French to take up his inheritance out of which Maimbo had cheated him.⁷⁸ The alliance with Dian Mananzac made conflict with the Zafiraminia King Maimbo inevitable, but this does not seem to have deterred the governor of Fort-Dauphin. On the contrary, he encouraged his neighbour to build a village called Hiara (also spelled Yara) at the entry to the Tôlanaro peninsula.⁷⁹

 While Maudave never uses the noble title “Dian” or “Andrian” when writing about Maimbo or his son Raimaz, he usually uses it to honour Mananzac. Perhaps this custom reflected Maudave’s enmity towards the king of Anosy. Be that as it may, the language usage of the source is followed here.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 3 f., 17, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  Ibid., 1– 3.  Ibid., 4, 6.

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Maudave soon became frustrated. Dian Mananzac was not able to provide the French governor with the expected manpower. Of the 200 Malagasy promised, only three had arrived after three days; after eleven days, Maudave could expect twenty-two men.⁸⁰ The general insecurity meant that the princes of Anosy did not want to entrust their subjects to Maudave.⁸¹ Moreover, Maudave had the wrong idea about these workers. He referred to them as “slaves” and wanted them to work as hard on the rebuilding of the fort as on a plantation on Île de France. But the locals who worked for the Frenchman were extremely unmotivated and in his diary, Maudave often complained about the “laziness” of the “negroes”.⁸² Even when the governor of Fort-Dauphin had about seventy “slaves” at his disposal, only eight to ten men in effect worked at a time while the others rested.⁸³ The governor came to realise after two months that only force could make the locals work.⁸⁴ Trade had been brought to a standstill not only by the ban on paying in piastres. The general insecurity in the region of Tôlanaro caused by the war and the dependence on Dian Mananzac also presented major obstacles. The village of Hiara, recently built by Dian Mananzac, blocked access to the French fort so that Maimbo’s allies could not trade with the French.⁸⁵ Dian Mananzac’s allies also faced difficulties when bringing their cattle to the peninsula of Fort-Dauphin as they feared attacks by Maimbo’s people. Sometimes, Maudave had to send escorts to accompany the herds of zebu.⁸⁶ Faced with these difficulties, Maudave attempted to make peace between Dian Mananzac and Maimbo from the beginning of October 1768.⁸⁷ At the same time he began to think about “withdrawing his protection from Mananzac” – in many diary entries from this period, Maudave no longer used the noble title “Dian” – and replacing him with Maimbo’s son Raimaz in the role of ally of the French.⁸⁸ His “aversion” to the “stupid Dian Mananzac” grew “by the day”.⁸⁹ As he openly threatened the prince with switching to Maimbo and Raimaz’s side,⁹⁰ the distrust of this neighbour of Fort-Dauphin was great. Several times Dian Man          

Ibid., 2, 4 f., 12, 35. Ibid., 15, similarly: 25. “[P]aresse”: Ibid., 2, 10 f. Ibid., 36. Ibid. Ibid., 10, 15, 23. Ibid., 5. Ibid., 10. Ibid., 10 – 12: “je lui retirerai ma protection.” Ibid., 23, 43 (quotation): “l’imbécile Mananzac duquel je suis chaque jour plus dégoûté”. Ibid., 12.

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anzac withdrew his “negroes” from the service of the French, which Maudave describes in his diary as “inexplicable behaviour”.⁹¹ After an attack on Dian Mananzac by Maimbo on 15 October, Maudave announced in his diary that he was determined to force the warring princes to make peace: “These negroes need to be taught early on that we know how to defend our friends.”⁹² Instead, however, for months the former governor of Karaikal tried in vain to mediate between Dian Mananzac on the one hand, and Maimbo and Raimaz on the other. Maimbo set as a condition for the opening of negotiations that Dian Mananzac relinquish the territory of Fort-Dauphin, a condition Maudave’s neighbour could not accept.⁹³ The Frenchman, who sought the alliance of Maimbo and Raimaz without breaking his friendship with Dian Mananzac, ended up without having good relations with any of the three.⁹⁴ At the same time he remained dependent on Dian Mananzac. For example, robberies by the enemy forced him to entrust his cattle to his neighbour for safekeeping.⁹⁵ On 25 October, Dian Mananzac announced his intention to attack Raimaz. His men surrounded a French patrol escorting one of Maimbo’s “black men” home, killed this follower of the king of the Antanosy and robbed Maudave’s soldiers.⁹⁶ Maudave made a journey to Maimbo at the end of the month but was unable to reach a political agreement.⁹⁷ Raimaz also largely ignored the French count.⁹⁸ In November, he had to watch powerlessly as the two parties went to war against each other.⁹⁹ Now, Fort-Dauphin was isolated and no Roandriana came to the French settlement any more.¹⁰⁰ In the end, Raimaz killed Dian Mananzac in an attack. The village of Hiara was besieged, captured and destroyed.¹⁰¹ It seems that during this final battle, Maudave jettisoned his former partner and supplied Raimaz with weapons and gunpowder.¹⁰²

 “Dian Mananzac se conduit d’une manière inexplicable”: Ibid., 16 (quotation), 35.  Ibid., 17: “Il faut mettre dans la tête de ces nègres de bonne heure que nous savons defendre nos amis.”  Ibid., 16.  Ibid., 16, 18 f.  Ibid., 39, 41.  Ibid., 19.  Ibid., 24.  Ibid., 46.  Ibid., 30, 35, 43.  Ibid., 42, 46.  Ibid., 58.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 14, fol. 28, “Voyage de Fort Dauphin à la baie Sainte Luce par terre, ainsi que le retour sur la côte sud de Madagascar, par le chevalier Mengaud de la Hage, commandant le vaisseau du roi Le Gros Ventre, en décembre 1775”, n.d.

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Even before this decisive attack on Dian Mananzac, Fort-Dauphin had already degenerated into a place where local princes went to get drunk on brandy. In their intoxication, they disturbed the military order of the French fort, for example by shooting off guns at night.¹⁰³ Some princes even had no inhibition about robbing the French. Maudave once sent an expedition to capture a village elder. The French were forced to flee, however, after a skirmish in which they lost four men.¹⁰⁴ In summary, one can state that the governor of Fort-Dauphin was not able to convert into political authority the admiration that the people of Anosy showed for European technology. Neither did the policy of gift-giving and reverence – which to the princes of Anosy was important to demonstrate their rank – help Maudave to establish colonial rule. More than anything, he failed in his project to become an authority above the princes of the region and their conflicts. Here, Maudave’s fundamental strategic errors become apparent. He behaved as if he could maintain good relations with both Dian Mananzac and Maimbo at the same time.¹⁰⁵ This policy followed the basic assumptions found in his memoranda, letters and diary. For Maudave, “the Malagasy” represented a homogeneous mass that should be treated according to the ever-same principles – principles supposed to apply to “civilised” people generally when dealing with “barbarians”. Since, in Maudave’s eyes, these general principles would inevitably lead to a “soft” colonial expansion through the generation of authority, he positioned himself unwisely on the political chessboard of Anosy. He was often friendly towards insignificant political actors who honoured him, but he did not make much of an effort at good relations with powerful actors such as Maimbo, who ignored him. Maudave assumed that the latter would recognise the superiority of the civilised sooner or later. If he allied himself with Dian Mananzac, it was because Mananzac happened to be on the spot and was seeking an alliance with the French because of his own threatened position. Maudave certainly did not consider that this alliance would prevent him from expanding his position of power.

 MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 5, 45, 47, excerpts from Maudave’s diary. In his epistolary novel Lettres madagascaroises, Valgny ridicules this abuse of the French colony by the upper classes of Anosy. One of the novel characters states that he goes to the French to drink and receive gifts; see MHN, Ms. 887, “II. Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Madagascar”, “3. Lettres Madagascaroises”, p. 9, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 52, Maudave to the Minister of the Navy, 9 February 1771.  For example, on 1 October, the French sought contact with the “people of Maimbo”. They succeeded in convincing some of them to come to Fort-Dauphin, which put to flight the inhabitants of the village of Hiara; see MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 8, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.

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Even though he was aware of the political context in Anosy, his image of the Malagasy did not lead him to develop a differentiated political strategy. Maudave quickly realised that his interest lay in an alliance with Maimbo and Raimaz against Dian Mananzac, but he did not take the decisive step that would have made him a serious partner. His guiding principle that he was above the parties prevented him from positioning himself unequivocally on the side of the winners until shortly before Dian Mananzac’s downfall. Maudave’s failure was also a consequence of his colonialist and Enlightenment patterns of interpretation.

A Voltaire in Madagascar The above finding is in stark contrast to Foury’s portrayal of Maudave’s history. Foury speaks of a “vitality” of the French settlement in the years 1769 and 1770, which had come about by the governor overcoming his initial mistakes.¹⁰⁶ With this appraisal, the historian adopts the argumentation of Maudave who, in his writings, negated his failure. Maudave’s strategies of justification were also of great importance to the imperial actors who took an interest in Madagascar after him. The writing strategies that the governor of Fort-Dauphin adopted in the face of his obvious failure¹⁰⁷ contributed to the establishment of a new colonialist discourse on Madagascar. Here, the writings of two officers, Maudave and Valgny, will be analysed, which show two different patterns in dealing with the failure of the French. To report to his direct superiors, the administrators of Île de France, as well as to the Minister of the Navy, Maudave used two text genres, the letter and the diary. In doing so, the governor of Fort-Dauphin was faced with the challenge of coming to terms discursively with the experience of colonial failure and, at the same time, finding support for his projects. In different contexts, Maudave made use of four, partly contradictory, writing strategies. First, he occasionally admitted the problems that arose but explained them in such a way that they did not call into question the premises of his project. Second, he mentioned claims that there were problems but negated their truthfulness. Third, in some cases, he remained silent about the problems altogether. However, since he was obliged to

 “[V]italité”: Foury, “Maudave (part 2)”, 46.  This is based on Hanspeter Ortner’s definition of “Schreibstrategie” [“writing strategy”]: a “procedure of coping with specific writing occasions and potential writing difficulties in specific writing situations” [“Verfahren der Bewältigung spezifischer Schreibanlässe und potentieller Schreibschwierigkeiten in spezifischen Schreibsituationen”]: Ortner, Hanspeter, Schreiben und Denken, Tü bingen 2000, 351.

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report all important events, this strategy could not mean that he simply did not use his pen; instead, he had to replace the report of problematic events with other narratives. Fourth, Maudave resorted to stylistic devices that elevated the narrator and the reader above a present marked by problems that he presented as events hardly worthy of their interest. In his diary, Maudave decided not to conceal many of the difficulties he encountered. In particular, he described how numerous French people died. Yet, at the same time, he presented explanations that enabled him to maintain the image of Fort-Dauphin as a healthy region.¹⁰⁸ In his letters to the administrators of Île de France, he explained the high mortality rate by the fact that some of his people had gone to the north. It was there, not in Fort-Dauphin, that they fell ill.¹⁰⁹ To confirm this, he had the officers and residents of Fort-Dauphin sign a certificate which attested to the healthy character of the air.¹¹⁰ In this way, the diseases mentioned in Maudave’s writings did not call the colonisation project into question. In his accounts of the relations between the Antanosy and the French, a tension is noticeable between reporting the difficulties and negating the problems. For example, when Maudave reports in his diary that a Malagasy village elder was unable to bring his cattle to Fort-Dauphin because an ally of Maimbo’s blocked his way, he comments on this news with the remark that it was “not very credible” without giving further reasons for his appraisal.¹¹¹ In this text, the governor gets entangled in contradictions. While on 4 November 1768, he relates that sick French soldiers were robbed by “Negroes”, he writes three days later of the great respect of the “blacks” for the “whites”, which guaranteed the security of the military outposts.¹¹² In his diary, Maudave vacillates between the description of violence and the tabooing of it. On 18 December 1768, for example, he reports that on that day, a bullet had landed next to his feet, but instead of asking whether he might have been targeted, he “believed” that “it was a clumsy fellow who discharged his rifle in a careless manner”.¹¹³ Especially in his letters to his superiors, Maudave resorted to the strategy of simply denying problems. Since Governor Desroches had sent negative reports about Fort-Dauphin to the Minister of the Navy, Maudave in his correspondence

 MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 27, 30, 33, 36, 39, 41 f., 46, 49 f., 61, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fols. 30, 32, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 5, copy of a certificate from the settlers of Fort-Dauphin concerning the air.  Ibid., 18: “ce à quoi il y a peu de vraisemblance”.  Ibid., 27.  Ibid., 45: “j’ai pensé il s’agissait d’un maladroit qui déchargeait impunément son fusil”.

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could not ignore the unanimous criticism of his settlement but doubted the reliability of the sources of information. He attributed the “alleged uniformity of testimonies” (“prétendue uniformité des témoignages”) against Fort-Dauphin to a lack of local knowledge and a failure to recognise the true principles by which the colonisation project should be judged. Maudave dismissed as a lie the report that the French of the settlement looked like “skeletons” due to hunger. Moreover, he swore by his “life, faith and honour” not to have exaggerated the advantages of the colony.¹¹⁴ To legitimise his ambitious projects, Maudave invoked his “everyday experience”.¹¹⁵ It is characteristic that he developed his lofty plans only when, at the end of October, he had no options for action and the French, isolated in their fort, had to watch as Dian Mananzac and Raimaz waged war against each other. Maudave was blocked in Fort-Dauphin and therefore wished to have other settlements from which he could trade.¹¹⁶ He had the surrounding countryside cursorily explored and filled many pages with colonial projects to be set up in the valleys and along the lakes of Anosy. Maudave wrote about the construction of new settlements in the present tense, as if they were being built at the very moment he was writing his diary entries.¹¹⁷ At the same time, he hardly mentioned the war that was raging. His diary testifies to the fact that from this point on, he modified his writing strategy. He now preferred to write little about the events in Anosy and replaced the unpleasant experiences of the present with descriptions of the future. In doing so, Maudave was well aware of his limited options for action. However, instead of expressing doubts about his ambitious project, he tacitly abandoned some of the projects he had described as crucial only a few weeks earlier. This may be seen in the way he wrote about a man called Cartouche, Dian Mananzac’s most important adviser. Maudave initially referred to this person of contact for the French as “the honest Cartouche” (“l’honnête Cartouche”).¹¹⁸ But Cartouche soon disappointed Maudave deeply and even “infuriated” him when on 25 October 1768, he had a French escort that accompanied one of Maimbo’s

 ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 30, Maudave to Praslin, 15 August 1769: “Je vous engage ma vie, ma foi, mon honneur que je n’ai rien exagéré des avantages promis.”  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 32, excerpts from Maudave’s diary (“expérience journalière”). Similarly in ibid., p. 40.  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 34.  MHN, Ms. 3001, pp. 26 – 30, excerpts from Maudave’s diary. It was precisely these journeys and dreams that prompted Foury to attest “vitality” to the colony of Fort-Dauphin: Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 46.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 16, 18 f., excerpts from Maudave’s diary.

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“Negroes” surrounded. Cartouche had the French robbed and Maimbo’s man killed. Maudave immediately wanted to “take all the whites to Mananzac’s village, seize him by the throat, throw him into chains and have Cartouche hanged”, but he refrained from doing so in order not to endanger his men who were scattered throughout Anosy.¹¹⁹ Even though Maudave wanted to impose an “exemplary punishment” (“une punition exemplaire”), he had instead to watch powerlessly as a short time later, Cartouche came to Fort-Dauphin as if nothing had happened. The governor did show his anger, but Cartouche seemed convinced that this mood would not last.¹²⁰ And indeed, Maudave had to refrain from imposing any sanction whatsoever.¹²¹ From this point onwards, he in his diary again referred to “honest Cartouche”.¹²² This example shows the tensions that run through this source. After reporting initially on a particular problem, Maudave preferred not to make it a subject of discussion anymore. To defuse the tensions arising from vacillating between explaining, negating and suppressing, Maudave resorted to stylistic devices that created a distance from the present, namely emphatic enthusiasm and biting irony. The governor of Fort-Dauphin employed the style of the Enlightenment philosophes, especially that of Voltaire, whom he admired and with whom he had corresponded.¹²³ In his diary, Voltaire’s influence is particularly evident in his plea for a “natural religion” and in his many attacks on the clergy.¹²⁴ Above all, however, Voltairean irony enabled him to rise above the problem-ridden present and suggest a promising superiority over the Malagasy. He used this stylistic device to disparage the Malagasy and their society and to portray himself as a bringer of progress. In his eyes, the Malagasy were following “their own nations’s law of nations” when they made “mincemeat” of their enemies.¹²⁵ They showed their dead enemies the “kindness” of throwing their corpses to the dogs.¹²⁶ The governor also ridiculed the powerful Maimbo with obvious glee:

 Ibid., 19 f.: “Cette noire action […] m’a mise en fureur. J’ai été au moment de mener moi même tous les blancs au village de Mananzac, de le prendre à la gorge, de le mettre aux fers et de faire pendre Cartouche”.  Ibid., 22.  Ibid., 42.  Ibid., 47.  Voltaire, Œuvres complètes, vol. 85 – 135: Correspondence and Related Documents, ed. Theodore Besterman, Oxford 1968 – 1977, vol. 43, no. 8458, 8496; vol. 44, no. 8527, 8535, 8567, 8713; vol. 45, no. 8870; vol. 46, no. 9107; vol. 47, no. 9262.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 37, 53 – 55, 63, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  Ibid., 18: “Ils voulaient le mettre en pièces suivant […] le droit des gens particuliers à cette nation”.  Ibid., 20: “c’est une des gentillesses que les ennemis vivants font aux ennemis morts”.

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He wore a diadem around his forehead, which was nothing more than the ribbon of a nightcap of some East India Company employee. A piece of black satin had been sewn on to it, to which the crown jewels had been fastened: a cross of blue stones […] and two earrings. These three stones were worth a full thirty sous [equivalent to one and a half livres, D. T.]. […] Add to this tall stature and an enormous bronze-coloured mass of flesh, two teeth protruding at the sides like the tusks of a wild boar, as well as shaggy oil-covered grey hair and you will see that Maimbou was indeed a commanding figure.¹²⁷

These sarcastic passages served to contrast Madagascar’s supposedly ridiculous existence at present with the bright future of French rule, a perspective Madauve sketched by means of lofty words both in his diary and his letters. Even before his first arrival on Madagascar, he stressed that thanks to the future colony, the French would “become masters of one half of the globe [i. e. Asia, D. T.]”, “overthrow the colossus of English power” and even inaugurate a major historic rupture: for the first time in the history of the world, a colony would be established on the basis of moral principles.¹²⁸ As late as 15 August 1769, he still explained to Praslin, the Minister of the Navy, with absolute certainty that “an enormous crowd of blacks” (“une foule prodigieuse de noirs”) would soon settle among the French.¹²⁹ In short, according to Maudave, the colonisation of the Great Island had been “the most glorious and useful operation of the past hundred years”.¹³⁰ In Maudave’s writing, the Enlightenment enthusiasm for progress went together with a flight into the future which would leave behind the disastrous experiences of the present.

A Montesquieu in Madagascar Enlightenment writings also played a decisive role for Valgny, one of Maudave’s critics. This officer employed a literary manner, as it were, to deal with the failure

 Ibid., 24: “son front était ceint d’un diadème qui n’était autre chose que le ruban du bonnet de nuit de quelque officier de la Compagnie des Indes. On y avait cousu une pièce carrée de satin noir sur laquelle étaient attachées les pierreries de la couronne, savoir: une croix de pierres bleues […] et de deux pendants d’oreilles. Ces trois pierres pouvaient bien valoir 30 sols. […] Ajoutez à tous ces ornements une haute stature et une énorme masse de chair couleur de cuivre, deux dents qui sortent des deux côtés de sa bouche comme les défenses d’un sanglier, des cheveux gris hérissés et couverts d’huile ; vous verrez que Maimbou avait très belle prestance.”  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767 (“les maîtres de la moitié de la terre”) and ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 28, memorandum by Maudave, 6 December 1767 (“renverseraient […] le colosse de la puissance anglaise”).  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 30, Maudave to Praslin, 15 August 1769.  Ibid.: “l’opération la plus glorieuse et la plus utile qu’on ait tenté depuis cent ans”.

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of Fort-Dauphin. But in complete contrast to Maudave, his superior, he used the image of the reasonable Malagasy to criticise the French. To attack Maudave’s policies, he appropriated Montesquieu’s Persian Letters as a literary template and wrote the Malagasy Letters. Valgny was an officer with many years of experience in Madagascar. He spoke Malagasy and had local expertise. Between 1743 and 1758, he had already commanded the settlements of Foulpointe (Mahavelona) and Sainte-Marie (Nosy Boraha) for the East India Company, where he had avenged the murder by Zafibrahim of the company employees in 1757. Valgny subsequently recovered from illness on Île de France and in 1765 – 1767 asked to be allowed to establish a settlement in Madagascar.¹³¹ He was appointed commander of Fort-Dauphin and remained in office until the arrival of Maudave in September of that year.¹³² Although he talked “enthusiastically” about Madagascar, the former commander of Sainte-Marie spoke out against colonising Anosy.¹³³ Soon after Maudave’s arrival, he began to approach the governor of Île de France in order to contradict the new governor of Fort-Dauphin.¹³⁴ Maudave wrote correspondingly harshly to his superiors about Valgny, ascribing to him a “thick crust of prejudice”.¹³⁵ He was also scathing about Valgny’s Malagasy Letters, describing them as “scribblings” (“barbouillage”).¹³⁶ The Malagasy Letters is an epistolary novel of which only excerpts have survived. In it, three Malagasy people who are in Tôlanaro, Mahavelona and on Île de France respectively correspond with one another. The exchange of letters with the resident of Anosy is mainly about the disadvantages of the location of Fort-Dauphin for a colony. The Malagasy who lives there reports on the difficult living conditions of the French, their poor houses and food poisonings which he attributes to

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 31, Valgny to Dumas, 23 October 1767.  Only sparse information has survived about Valgny; see ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fol. 12, register of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 30, fol. 1, Poivre to Glemet, 10 August 1767; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 31, Valgny to Dumas, 23 October 1767; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 49, fol. 1, Poivre to Glemet, 22 March 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 54, fol. 3, Poivre to Praslin, 29 July 1768; MHN, Ms. 887, I., “Réponse à l’objection contre l’arrest des Zafé-bourachez”, fol. 2 f., n.d.; Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 367; Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 16; Filiot, “Établissements”, 72, 83.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 52, fol. 3, copy of letter from Dumas to Praslin, 26 July 1768; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 65, fol. 1, Maudave to Dumas, 2 October 1768 (“c’est un homme enthousiasmé pour Madagascar”).  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 28 f.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 65, fol. 1, Maudave to Dumas, 2 October 1768: “La croute épaisse de préjugés qui environnent ses idées”.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 57, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.

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the desecration of Malagasy graves by the Europeans. The more enlightened Malagasy from Île de France thereupon explains to him that the inhospitality of Anosy is the real reason for this misery; moreover, it is impossible to have a good relationship with all the village elders at the same time; and, last but not least, all the inhabitants of this region are nothing but lazy scoundrels. The two Malagasy agree not to reveal any of this to the French so that they would waste their resources in a pointless attempt at colonisation.¹³⁷ Valgny gives the character from Fort-Dauphin a Malagasy name meaning “Big Talker” (“Grand Parleur”) to suggest that the promises of the locals should not be believed.¹³⁸ In the novel, this lying village elder likes to go to the French fort to receive gifts and get drunk on brandy.¹³⁹ The correspondence with the Malagasy from Mahavelona fulfils two functions. First, it is to show that the French follow principles in trade policy that are morally and economically bad. The Malagasy characters in the novel make it clear that the slave trade is destroying the region of Mahavelona and contradicting the Christian charity to which the “whites” refer.¹⁴⁰ They also state that the Malagasy only want to sell their goods for silver coins. Without piastres, the French would have to return home empty-handed.¹⁴¹ Second, in this correspondence, Valgny presents himself as the better colonial governor and justifies his record as former commander of Nosy Boraha. In 1757, he had enslaved the inhabitants of Sainte-Marie to punish them for the murder of his compatriots. The characters in the novel are surprised that on Île de France, such a harsh but justified action against the murderers had been criticised as illegal. In their eyes, this affair shows that the French were in doubt about their right to take revenge.¹⁴² The Malagasy in the novel also consider what great transformations Valgny would have brought about on the Great Island if he had been given the opportunity to implement his colonisation project. Among other things, he would have saved the children abandoned because of superstition, developed agriculture and created a powerful militia.¹⁴³ Valgny also had his characters talk about how he, Valgny, had shared some interesting theories with them, for example his ideas about the Arab origin of the Zafiraminia or the best military

 MHN, Ms. 887, Papiers de Commerson, “Lettres madagascaroises”, fols. 10, 19 f., 27– 29, 38 f.  Ibid., fol. 2 f.  MHN, Ms. 887, Papiers de Commerson, “II. Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Madagascar”, “3. Lettres Madagascaroises”, p. 9.  MHN, Ms. 887, Papiers de Commerson, “Lettres madagascaroises”, fols. 6, 35 – 37. Similarly in MHN, Ms. 887, “II. Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Madagascar”, “3. Lettres Madagascaroises”, p. 3 f.  MHN, Ms. 887, “Lettres madagascaroises”, fols. 45, 47 f.  Ibid., fols. 11, 29 – 31 (quotation fol. 31).  Ibid., fols. 40 – 43.

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strategy to conquer Madagascar.¹⁴⁴ Moreover, he has the Malagasy approve the “very praiseworthy justice of the whites” (“la très louable justice des blancs”). The Malagasy of the novel are willing to learn from them.¹⁴⁵ In this way, Valgny sketched the prospect of civilising the country. Valgny used Montesquieu’s template to expose and explain Maudave’s failure. At the same time, the novel was an element in a strategy to save the project of French expansion in Madagascar and to recommend himself for it. Valgny should be appointed governor and establish a flourishing colony on humane principles. His strategy here of using the medium of the enlightened and enlightening novel is remarkable. As an officer, Valgny had to carry out the orders of Maudave, his superior, whether he liked them or not; a public discussion could not be considered. Moreover, it was the governor of Fort-Dauphin and not Valgny who was responsible for reports. Therefore, in official letters to the administrators of Île de France or in the mother country, Valgny was only able to complain to a limited extent about the course Maudave had chosen and to recommend himself as the better colonial ruler. As a writer, however, he was able to assume the role of an intellectual, which gave him the right to intervene in public in favour of truth and the common good.¹⁴⁶ Yet, Valgny was ultimately unsuccessful with this strategy. His Malagasy Letters were never printed and only circulated in manuscript form within a small circle of Madagascar connoisseurs. With Maudave and Valgny, the colonisation of Madagascar was transferred into the realm of literature. As we shall see, despite the fact that he did not have any of his texts printed, the governor of Fort-Dauphin in particular contributed substantially to establishing an imaginary that would strongly influence writings on Madagascar in the decades that followed. The assumptions on which Maudave’s colonisation project were based did contribute to his failure as they were obstacles to a nuanced political strategy in Anosy. The policy of generating authority through symbolic communication turned out to be an illusion. Either the upper classes of Anosy used Fort-Dauphin to demonstrate their superiority symbolically or they simply ignored the French settlement. Yet, despite this meagre record, Maudave left his colonialist principles to his successors as an intellectual legacy. The history of Fort-Dauphin under Maudave is not a colonial history; it is the history of a colonialist imaginary that continued to develop further under his successor Moritz August Beňovský.  MHN, Ms. 887, “II. Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Madagascar”, “3. Lettres Madagascaroises”, p. 11– 16.  MHN, Ms. 887, “Lettres madagascaroises”, fol. 17.  Pečar, Andreas, “Der Intellektuelle seit der Aufklärung. Rolle oder Kulturmuster?” In: Das achtzehnte Jahrhundert 35 (2011), 187– 203.

5 Unsuccessful Conquistadors The French did not abandon the idea of a colonial expansion in Madagascar after 1772. In fact, not one but two initiatives were taken, an official one that originated in Versailles and also an unofficial one that originated in Île de France and that was supposed to be kept hidden from the Minister of the Navy. These events are known to us through a letter that was kept in a personnel file and which opens a window onto a different reality, one that remains concealed behind the official reports.¹ They reveal the danger for historians to become prisoners of their sources. The documents that the administration produced suggest a centralised empire in which the colonial administrators on the periphery implemented the policies of the centre. As Maudave’s writings have already shown, the reports of the colonial administrators not infrequently give a picture of events that deviates greatly from what may be reconstructed from other sources even though these are sparse and often transmitted by chance. Frequently enough, colonial administrators in the Indian Ocean acted completely autonomously, disregarding the orders from Versailles. This was true both of Desroches, the Governor of the Mascarene Islands and, to an even greater extent, of the commander in Madagascar, Beňovský.

French-Malagasy Plans for a Coup In a coup with the help of French-Malagasy actors, Desroches attempted to put his client Betia, the former queen of Nosy Boraha, on the throne of the Betsimisaraka in 1772. This move directly contradicted the alliance with the king of the Betsimisaraka which was vital for French trade. Desroches collaborated with Jean-Onésime Filet, a dubious figure who became famous as La Bigorne. La Bigorne was a renegade soldier, who had served in the garrison of Île de France. In Madagascar in the mid-eighteenth century, he had “made common cause and developed a friendship”, as Poivre puts it, with enemies of Andrianjanahary, the Betsimisaraka king, and had found among them a wife referred to as Fanchon in the French sources.² After a general amnesty, La Bigorne succeeded in

 ANOM, E 184, personnel file of Filet, called La Bigorne, Poivre to Boynes, Minister of the Navy, 12 February 1772.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fol. 4, register with copy of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre (“s’était lié d’intérêt et d’amitié”); ANOM, E 133, personnel file of Diard, fol. 2, Souillac https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-007

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getting employed as an interpreter by the French administration of the island. Out of fear that the interpreter might start a war on the northeast coast of Madagascar, Intendant Poivre pleaded in 1768 for La Bigorne to be transferred from Mahavelona to Tôlanaro, where he knew nobody. Governor Dumas issued an order to that effect.³ However, if one trusts a letter written by Poivre in 1772 to Boynes, Minister of the Navy, Dumas was pursuing very different projects with La Bigorne. According to Poivre, La Bigorne had proposed to Governor Dumas in 1767 a raid to enslave two to three thousand Malagasy. Without Poivre’s knowledge, Dumas then allegedly allowed La Bigorne to travel to Mahavelona where, a short time later, he put his plan into action with the help of his Betsimisaraka friends. The adventurer brought more than two thousand enslaved Malagasy, presumably from the interior of Madagascar, to Île de France at the king’s expense, where he sold them to various private individuals on the black market, since Dumas was no longer in office. La Bigorne also won the goodwill of Dumas’ successor, Governor Desroches, who again sent him to Mahavelona. Officially, La Bigorne was tasked with the purchase of zebus, but he made no secret of the fact that he was sailing to the east coast of the island to wage war against some Merina princes. During this campaign in the highlands in 1770 and 1771, he was accompanied by all the young warriors from the villages around Mahavelona.⁴ As part of the campaign, Desroches attempted a coup in Mahavelona, together with princess Betia, who had moved to Île de France after the failed French attempt at expansion on Nosy Boraha in the 1750s. Betia travelled to Mahavelona where she planned to overthrow her nephew Iavy and seize power. According to Poivre, La Bigorne had assembled quite a few Malagasy to support her. La Bigorne was to return from his campaign at the head of an army composed of Frenchmen and Betsimisaraka, carry out the coup and take all opponents to Île de France, where they would be sold as slaves. However, La Bigorne died in the highlands before he could realise his project, and Betia had to sail back to Île de France.⁵

and Chevreau to the Minister of the Navy, 22 November 1782. More on La Bigorne’s life in the 1740s and 1750s: Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, vol. 1, 137– 148.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, p. 7, 19, register with copy of the correspondence between Dumas and Poivre.  ANOM, E 184, personnel file of Filet, called La Bigorne, Poivre to Boynes, 12 February 1772. La Bigorne was probably also a mercenary in the service of the Merina king of Ambohimanga: Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, vol. 1, 150 – 153.  Ibid. A lot of conflicting information, even myths, circulate about La Bigorne. According to Roze, La Bigorne died peacefully on his plantation on Île de France; see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 4, Roze, “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar pour y établir une colonie et un

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A New Colony In Versailles, all these events probably remained unknown. In any case, the documents from the Ministry of the Navy never mention them. Meanwhile, Versailles was considering how to expand in Madagascar. The idea was not a coup in the most important kingdom on the east coast but the establishment of a peaceful settlement. At the end of 1772, Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, assigned the task to Moritz August Beňovský, a nobleman from Upper Hungary (present-day Slovakia). However, this move did not provide him with a better insight into the conditions on the ground than the reports of Desroches or Maudave. In fact, under Maudave’s successor, the discrepancy between aspiration and reality grew even larger. The colonisation of Madagascar was transferred ever further into the realm of fantasy, so that in the reports, the dream now replaced the experiences almost completely, rendering them practically invisible to the Ministry of the Navy and to historians. Moritz August Beňovský must have been one of the most colourful characters that the employees of the French Ministry of the Navy had to deal with in the eighteenth century. At the time of his appointment in the service of the French king, this lesser nobleman referred to himself as Baron and Colonel of His Imperial Majesty, as well as Chamberlain, Privy Councillor, Senior Secretary and Chief of Staff of His Majesty Prince Albrecht Kasimir of Saxe-Teschen, a son of August III of Poland. On 22 September 1771, Beňovský had appeared on a small boat in the bay of Canton in China with fifty-four companions and told a sensational story. Along with 5,000 Hungarians, he had been sent to Poland by Empress Maria Theresa to help the Bar Confederation in its fight against the Russian troops and for the Catholic religion. However, he alleged to have been arrested by the Russians and deported to Kamchatka, where he led an uprising and together with his comrades and the governor’s daughter, who had fallen in love with him, escaped in a boat. Thanks to his long years of experience in the Mediterranean in the service of the Order of Malta, he knew how to steer a ship, or so he claimed, and guided the refugees to safety along the coast of Japan all the way to China. Shortly after arriving in Macau, the daughter of the Russian governor of Kamchatka died, and Beňovský had a funeral mass sung for her in the Portuguese Franciscan church.⁶

commerce utile à la France”, 1783 – 84. The Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne contains completely fantastic information on La Bigorne.  Orłowski, Leon, Maurycy August Beniowski, Warszawa 1961, 108 – 113.

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In this account, the strategy which Beňovský used on four continents in the following years already appears clearly: he ensnared his contemporaries with fantastic lies to make them interested, or even enthusiastic, about him. His narratives were true only in so far as he had fought for the Bar Confederation, had been deported to Kamchatka by the Russians and had managed to escape in a boat. Beňovský was not a colonel of His Imperial Majesty and had never been in the service of a son of the Polish king and Saxon prince-elector. He had fled to Poland having killed his uncle, who had tried to stop him from raping peasant girls. There, rather by chance, he had enlisted in the army of the Bar Confederation. This certainly was not out of any religious motivation since he belonged to the Reformed denomination. Beňovský’s narrative of the events on Kamchatka also differed greatly from what is known from other sources. There was no governor on the East Asian peninsula, only a captain, and his daughter lived in faraway Irkutsk. It appears that Beňovský arranged a false burial with the Franciscans in order to weave a love story into his life narrative. When two curious monks opened the coffin of the supposed virgin the night before the ceremony, they found a man inside it. Neither had the minor nobleman from Upper Hungary ever been in the service of the Order of Malta but had instead learned to sail in Hamburg. His navigational experience was rather rudimentary, which is why he had repeatedly steered the ship in the wrong direction before he finally reached his destination, Macau.⁷ In this early phase of his career as an impostor, Beňovský already resorted to the imaginary of the adventure novel. This tendency was to grow stronger in his letters from Madagascar and in his memoirs about his time on the Great Island. Beňovský’s imagination proved to be so compelling that it continues to this day to captivate many professional and amateur historians. Thus, one of the most renowned specialists in Malagasy history writes that Beňovský had built a city, a road network, a canal system, plantations and industrial facilities; and that he had won victories over the powerful Sakalava from Boina and established a “political power of the first order” in the north of the Great Island. According to this narrative, it was only due to the lack of help from the French administration of Île de France that Beňovský had to give up the colony; a pattern of interpretation already encountered in Maudave’s case.⁸ As attractive as these tales of adventure may seem, Beňovský had invented them freely. Already in the early twentieth century, historian Prosper Cultru had worked out that these supposed achievements were nothing but lies, and in the late twentieth century, Gilbert Ratsivala-

 Ibid., 11– 113.  Campbell, “Imperial Rivalry”, 84 (“a major political force”).

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ka has shown in his unpublished dissertation how conflictual Beňovský’s relationships were with native princes.⁹ And yet, tellingly, it seems that even Cultru could not quite escape the charm of the adventure novel as he otherwise believed Beňovský’s imaginary biography.¹⁰ The French amateur historians who wrote about Madagascar’s past during the colonial period also had great difficulty in accepting these less than glorious facts about their country. They preferred to deviate only marginally from Beňovský’s narratives, despite Cultru’s archivebased work. As far as they were concerned, the abandonment of Louisbourg, the settlement established by Beňovský, was the result of a smear campaign by Île de France and the commissioners sent by the National Assembly.¹¹ Thanks to Deschamps’ general presentation of Malagasy history, Cultru’s findings became known at least in francophone scholarship.¹² Nevertheless, to this day, they are frequently ignored in English-, Polish- and Slovak-language publications.¹³ Consequently, the slightly older but to this day only scholarly biography of Beňovský largely follows the accounts of the commander of Louisbourg in the chapter on Madagascar, even though the author otherwise debunks many myths.¹⁴ Moreover, the latest French-language study endeavours to revise Cultru’s critical image of Beňovský at least partially. According to this study, while the posthumously-printed memoirs did contain many lies, Beňovský’s other writings were fundamentally credible.¹⁵

 Cultru, Un empereur de Madagascar; Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, vol. 1, 174– 186. A forerunner of Cultru’s: Curzon, Henri de, Un épisode de Madagascar au XVIIIe siècle. Beniowski, d’après des documents inédits. Extrait de la Revue hebdomadaire, Paris 1896.  Cultru, Un empereur de Madagascar, 5 – 7.  Jully, Antoine, “Extrait du compte-rendu lu dans la séance du 10 déc. 1903 de l’Académie Malgache”, in: Bulletin de l’Académie malgache 2 (1903), 81; Villars, capitaine de, Madagascar, 1638 – 1894. Établissement des Français dans l’île, Paris 1912, 117– 143; Esme, Jean d’, Le Conquérant de l’Île rouge, Paris 1945; Férard, Paul-Louis, Benyowsky. Gentilhomme et Roi de fortune, Paris 1931; Kling, Georges, “Benyowszky. Empereur de Madagascar”, in: Encyclopédie mensuelle d’outre-mer 70 (1956), 265 – 269.  Deschamps, Histoire de Madagascar, 81 f.; Haudrère, L’Empire des rois, 331.  Lepecki, Mieczysław, Mauricy August Beniowski. Zdobywca Madagaskaru, Warszawa 1961; Pawliková-Vilhanová, “Móric Beňovský a Madagascar”; Campbell, “Imperial Rivalry”, 84. A special case is Edward Kajdański, who endorses a conspiracy theory and wishes to discredit all sources that do not originate with Beňovský. His account of his hero’s stay in Madagascar is based solely on the memoirs; see Kajdański, Edward, Tajemnica Beniowskiego. Odkrycia, intrygi, fałszerstwa, Warszawa 1994, 309 – 332.  Orłowski, Beniowski, 136 – 161.  Vacher, Pauline, Contribution à l’histoire de l’établissement français fondé à Madagascar, par le baron de Beňovsky´ (1772 – 1776). D’après de nouvelles sources manuscrites, Aix-en-Provence 2006. Vacher bases her account on the “Mémoire sur l’expédition de Madagascar”, which

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It therefore seems necessary to rewrite the history of the French settlement in Antongil Bay. However, Beňovský’s writing practice presents the historian who wishes to study the interactions between the Malagasy and the French elites with a challenge. The very writings of the one who, as the king’s commander, was to report on French activities reveal little that is credible about relations with the Malagasy. Fortunately, through other sources, at least selective insights into the history of the French settlement in Antongil Bay can be gained. In the following, these texts will be used to reconstruct how the French-Malagasy encounters developed in the north-east of the Great Island between 1773 and 1776. Due to the problematic situation regarding the sources, the investigation of the Malagasy strategies and the French-Malagasy interactions will have to remain fragmentary. The sparse documentation, for example, hardly permits any deeper insights into the exact causes of the military conflicts and their course cannot be reconstructed with certainty.

Misery and Devastation Beňovský arrived on Île de France in September 1773 and in Madagascar in February 1774.¹⁶ The instructions he had received from Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, were cautious in comparison with Maudave’s project. The man from Upper Hungary was to concentrate on trade with the natives and not establish an agricultural colony. This was to avoid a conflict with the Malagasy.¹⁷ Moreover, the king of France did not provide any regular troops under Beňovský’s leadership, but only a volunteer corps.¹⁸ Nevertheless, the Ministry of the Navy’s project to achieve something bigger in Madagascar in the long term persisted, despite all the caution displayed. Still, the minister expressed the hope that Beňovský would not only establish a small trading post but a solid colony.¹⁹

Beňovský wrote for the Minister of the Navy after his stay in Madagascar. However, she does not compare this source with the correspondence between Beňovský and his superiors or with other archival documents (with the exception of the correspondence between Beňovský and the Intendant Des Assises). That is why it escapes Vacher that already this text – and not only the printed memoirs – is extremely problematic. The merit of her work lies in the meticulous comparison between the “Mémoire” and Beňovský’s printed memoirs.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 14, p. 8 – 18, Memorandum by Chevillard, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 111, 112; also DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 42, copy of a letter from Boynes to Ternay and Maillart, 19 March 1773.  C 5 A 3, no. 13, “Formation du corps des volontaires de Benyowsky”, 1772.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 42, fol. 1, copy of a letter from Boynes to Ternay and Maillart, 19 March 1773.

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Accordingly, he gave him no less than 230 soldiers, i. e. more than Maudave had ever had under his command; a total of about 400 men served under Beňovský. This was too many for a simple trading post, which raises questions about the Minister’s intentions. When Beňovský was later accused of having thrown himself into a politics of conquest, he could rightly point out that the soldiers had hardly been given to him for nothing.²⁰ From the outset, Beňovský did not follow his instructions. Even before his departure from France, he announced that he was striving to create “a colony so large and extensive, so rich and formidable that it would form a protective shield against our enemies in India”.²¹ He demanded more soldiers, asked for permission (which, eventually, was granted) to recruit troops at his own expense and still demanded later that the king pay for them.²² Beňovský wanted to create two botanical gardens and plant “all kinds of seeds” in his settlement including coffee, cotton, cane sugar and pepper. He announced his intention to establish a second colony as well as a settlement on the west coast of Madagascar to bring the trade of the “Arabs” under his control.²³ It is further a matter of record that shortly after his arrival in Madagascar, Beňovský adopted an aggressive war policy that had disastrous consequences. No sooner had he arrived in Antongil Bay than he found himself embroiled in armed conflicts.²⁴ To reconstruct the history of these wars without relying on Beňovský’s texts, one can draw on the descriptions and analyses of the commissioners Bellecombe and Chevreau who in 1776, that is shortly before Beňovský’s departure, inspected the settlements in Madagascar. Impressed by the reports of the “baron”, the Minister of the Navy, Antoine de Sartine, had decided in February 1776 to send commissioners to Madagascar to study the “climate” and thus

 ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 1, “Etat du corps des volontaires de Beniowsky”; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 2, list of officers; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 3, list of officers; C 5 A 7, no. 64, Bellecombe and Chevreau to Sartine, 13 October 1776.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 139, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 22 April 1773. Similarly in C 5 A 3, no. 173, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 5 November 1773: “je formerai non seulement une colonie vaste et ample, aussi riche que formidable, plus encore un bouclier j’ose le dire contre nos Ennemis aux Indes”.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 167, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 30 October 1773 and no. 184, Maillart to Boynes, 27 December 1773.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 2, excerpts of letters by Beňovsky´, n.d. (“ensemencer des grains de toute espèce”).  BnF, Manuscrits français, NAF no 9413, fol. 271 f., “Mémoire de Kerguelen sur l’île de Madagascar”, 27 December 1773; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 62, fol. 1, Ternay and Maillart, 17 June 1774.

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the possibility of a colonisation of the island by Europeans.²⁵ Guillaume Lénoard de Bellecombe and Étienne Claude Chevreau who, following the inspection, were to occupy the posts of governor and intendant of Pondicherry in South India respectively, therefore made a three-week stopover on the north-east coast of Madagascar from 16 September to 5 October 1776 on their way to South Asia. While in Madagascar, they recorded their observations in a diary²⁶ and in a whole series of reports and letters with precise and comprehensive information.²⁷ The ship’s captain Jean-François de La Pérouse, who later became famous for his military deeds as well as his attempt to circumnavigate the globe, accompanied them and also reported back.²⁸ The inspectors and the seafarer described landscapes and communities, the French settlements and encounters with native elites.²⁹ In addition to these reports, several other sources, or groups of sources, have survived that permit insight into the history of relations between Beňovský and the princes of the region. The administrators of Île de France repeatedly report about the “disorder” (“désordre”) in Madagascar but do not reveal any details.³⁰ The report of a renowned navigator, Yves Joseph de Kerguelen, who visited the settlement in February 1774, is somewhat more instructive.³¹ Of fundamental importance are the travel accounts of Beňovský’s principal interpreter, Nicolas Mayeur, who was commissioned by the commander to explore the north, the north-west and the centre of the Great Island. It is unclear to whom these texts were addressed, but they were probably not intended for Versailles or the administrators of Île de France. Mayeur kept them in his private possession.³² Finally, the correspondence from September 1774 to January 1775 between

 ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 32, Sartine to Beňovsky´, n.d., 18 February 1776; also see ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 39, “Note annonçant l’inspection à Madagascar de M. de Bellecombe”, 10 March 1776.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 126, notes by Bellecombe and Chevreau on the French buildings in Madagascar: C 5 A 7, nos. 16 – 17, 24, 32– 58, 61– 64 (see especially no. 64).  ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, La Pérouse, “Rapport sur les résultats facheux de l’établissement de Benyowsky” [1776].  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fols. 14, 16 f., 34, diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776.  See, for example, the letters of Ternay and Maillart to the Minister of the Navy of August and September 1774, which describe the situation in Madagascar in broad outline, in ANOM, C 5 A 4, nos. 75, 76, 90.  BnF, Manuscrits français, NAF no. 9413, fol. 271 f., “Mémoire de Kerguelen sur l’île de Madagascar”, 27 December 1773.  Today, the manuscript is in the British Museum. It was edited in 1913: [Mayeur], “Voyage dans le nord de Madagascar”.

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Beňovský and Des Assises, the Intendant of Madagascar, survives. These letters provide insight into the everyday life of the settlement during this period.³³ Bellecombe and Chevreau first inspected the most important French trading posts in Madagascar, Toamasina (Fr. Tamatave) and Mahavelona (Fr. Foulpointe). They found Toamasina depopulated. The reason for this was a war between the local prince, whose name they render in French as “Dienancore”, and the Fariava, whom they describe as a “fairly numerous people who have settled in the vicinity of Tamatave up to ten miles inland”.³⁴ Bellecombe and Chevreau met “the three oldest blacks” who “represented” the absent king of the Betsimisaraka³⁵ and in their diaries, they recorded both their questions and the answers of these elderly men. They learned that trade had stagnated for the past two or three years because of Beňovský’s ban on private trade. According to these men, the local upper class was outraged by the commander and wished that the French king would send someone else to Madagascar.³⁶ Their visit to Mahavelona was no cause for celebration either. The French palisade was in a dilapidated condition.³⁷ The storehouses, the kitchen and the powder house were made of straw; they offered no protection against thieves and could easily burn down or explode.³⁸ The little town of the indigenous people, which “has always been the most populous, the most pleasant and the best supplied with merchandise on the entire east coast”, had “at the most only four hundred inhabitants left who were living in misery”.³⁹ No slaves, rice nor even poultry could be bought there. This allegedly was the result of the trade ban which Beňovský had decreed and also of the most recent war. According to La Pérouse, people suffered hunger in this region which, three years earlier, had supplied Île de France with rice. The “blacks” only had roots and wild fruits from the forest to eat and they no longer worked for the French.⁴⁰ As soon as

 Register with a copy of the correspondence between Beňovský and Des Assises (30 September 1774– 19 January 1775): ANOM, C 5 A 5, nos. 20 – 21.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 4 f., diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776: “peuples assez considérables qui sont établis aux environs de Tamatave”. For more on the conflicts in the Betsimisaraka Kingdom, see Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, vol. 1, 186 – 214.  Ibid., fol. 6: “trois plus anciens noirs qui représentent le chef absent”.  Ibid., fols. 5 – 11.  Ibid., fol. 12 f.; report by La Pérouse: C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 1.  Report by La Pérouse: ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 1.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 14, diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776: “Le village de Foulpointe qui a toujours passé pour le plus peuplé, le plus agréable et le mieux fourni en ressources pour le commerce sur toute la côte de l’est, n’offre plus aujourd’huy qu’une misérable peuplade de quatre cent personnes au plus.”  Report by La Pérouse: ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 1.

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they arrived, Bellecombe and Chevreau met King Iavy, the prince of the Betsimisaraka and ally of the French. According to the report, he ruled over a coastal strip of 60 or 80 miles and had just made peace with the Fariava by means of the usual ceremony which involved drinking brandy mixed with gunpowder. Iavy expressed the wish that freedom of trade be restored.⁴¹ Antongil Bay was an even worse sight. According to La Pérouse, the region had been more ravaged by the war than Mahavelona.⁴² Bellecombe and Chevreau found the French settlement of Louisbourg in such a bad state that in their diary, they hardly dared to describe it as a “fort”.⁴³ The twenty soldiers who lived there were starving and the treasury and the storehouses were empty and showed “the greatest disorder” (“le plus grand désordre”).⁴⁴ The “fort” was located in the middle of a swamp and protected neither from thieves nor from flooding.⁴⁵ The inspection of the other smaller “forts” in the region revealed a similar picture.⁴⁶ Bellecombe and Chevreau reached the following conclusion: In summary, we would like to say that everyone here trembles at the mere mention of the name “Beňovský” and that all the whites and all the blacks who are on this peninsula, […] are in a state that arouses the greatest pity […]. Already over 260 of the 400 men who have come to Madagascar since 1773 have fallen victim to the bad season and the air, which brings death for more than six months of the year.⁴⁷

Particularly revealing for the history of the French-Malagasy encounters is Bellecombe and Chevreau’s account of a meeting with the princes of the region. According to this document, Chevreau and Bellecombe first asked the local dignitaries if they were happy with the French settling in their region. The princes seemed to have been embarrassed by the question: They remained silent for a very long time, looking at each other, occasionally glancing at Baron de Beňovský, who, in turn, was watching them. At last, Raoul, who was one of the

 ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fols. 12, 16 f., diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776; report by La Pérouse: C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 1.  Report by La Pérouse: ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 5.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 18 f., diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776.  Ibid., fol. 19.  Ibid., fol. 19 f. Similarly in La Pérouse; see ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 2 f.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fols. 26 – 29, diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776.  Ibid., fol. 24: “que tout icy tremble au seul nom de M. le baron de Béniowsky et que tous les blancs et que tous les noirs […] paraissent chacun condamnés à l’état le plus digne de pitié […]: deja plus de 260 Européens sur environ 400 qui sont passé depuis la fin de 1773 ont été victimes de la mauvaise saison et de l’air impur qui assassinent icy pendant plus de six mois de l’année”.

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most distinguished chiefs and was one of those who had taken up arms against Beňovský, said that he was very glad to see Frenchmen among them, and that he would wish to be able to trade with them again as before; that they were all very angry about the conflicts […] that had troubled these regions, and that they would ask us to forget the past; that, in future, they would subject themselves more readily to the [French, D. T.] government and that they would seek its protection at every opportunity.⁴⁸

The inspectors then asked why the local princes had waged war against the French. They replied that people with evil intentions had told them that Beňovský and his troops had come to Madagascar to deprive them of their goods and their freedom. This had seemed credible to them, since the French did not usually arrive with such a large number of soldiers when they were trading.⁴⁹ The meeting concluded with assurances from both sides that they would keep the peace, with the “oath that is usually taken in such matters” and with an exchange of gifts.⁵⁰ Bellecombe and Chevreau summarised the result of their observations and reflections in a separate report. The commissioners were convinced that “the Malagasy [would] never like to see a foreign power settling among them and giving them orders”.⁵¹ The islanders loved their freedom too much for that. The sad fate of the first colonists of Fort-Dauphin or that of the French of Sainte-Marie who were massacred in 1674 and the early 1750s respectively, would likewise have befallen Beňovský had the Malagasy not been in great fear of reprisals.⁵² According to La Pérouse, Beňovský terrorised the nations of the region.⁵³ The inspectors noted that since his arrival, almost all the peoples of Antongil Bay had waged war against him. As a result, one encountered exile, devastation, misery and

 Ibid., fol. 32: “Ils sont restés fort longtemps sans répondre, se regardant les uns, et levant de tems en tems [sic!] les yeux sur M. le baron de Béniowsky, qui de son coté les observoit : enfin l’un deux nommé Raoul chef des plus distingués et qui est un de ceux qui ont porté Les armes contre M. de Béniowsky, a dit qu’ils étoient fort aises de voir des français parmi eux et qu’ils désiroient continuer à faire le commerce comme autrefois: qu’ils étoient fachés des divisions et troubles qui avoient agité ces cantons, et qu’ils nous prioient d’oublier le passé: qu’à l’avenir, ils seroient de leur coté plus soumis au gouvernement, et qu’ils en rechercheroient la protection en toute occasion.”  Ibid.  Ibid., fol. 34: “serment que l’on a coutume de faire en pareille occasion”.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 64, fol. 2, Bellecombe and Chevreau to Sartine, 13 October 1776: “nous sommes persuadés et convaincus que jamais les Madécasses ne verront avec Plaisir une puissance quelconque venir du dehors s’établir parmi eux et les commander”.  La Pérouse agreed with this analysis; see ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 1 f.  Report by La Pérouse in ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 2.

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famine wherever one went. The inspectors recommended that the settlement be abandoned as soon as possible or, at least, downsized.⁵⁴

A Cortés in Madagascar Information is sparse about how the armed conflict between Beňovský and most of the princes of the region came about. The letter of seafarer Yves Joseph de Kerguelen shows that there was already a war immediately after Beňovský’s arrival. Kerguelen sailed into Antongil Bay on 23 February 1774, that is one week after Beňovský’s arrival in the region. The “indigenous people” – about whom nothing more is said in the sources – had refused to supply Beňovský, whom they called the “evil white man” (“Mauvais Blanc”), with food. The man from Upper Hungary asked Kerguelen to help him in his fight against two “chiefs”, which the seafarer and his men did.⁵⁵ One of these two “chiefs” was probably Raboc, the prince of a valley a few miles from the coast which Beňovský had appropriated and renamed “Plaine de la Santé des volontaires”. A manuscript by the interpreter Mayeur tells us that Raboc had sworn to take revenge on Beňovský, because the latter had robbed him of his land.⁵⁶ The commander of the French king did in fact live mainly in the “Plaine de la Santé”⁵⁷ – also called the “Plaine des Volontaires” – and probably thought of having the main town of his future colony built there.⁵⁸ The correspondence between Beňovský and Des Assises reveals that between September 1774 and January 1775, the settlement was in difficulties due to illness, supply problems and a lack of labour.⁵⁹ Both Beňovský and Des Assises repeatedly complained that they could not hire enough “marmites”, that

 ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 64, fols. 1– 5, Bellecombe and Chevreau to Sartine, 13 October 1776.  BnF, Manuscrits français, NAF no. 9413, fol. 271 f., “Mémoire de Kerguelen sur l’île de Madagascar”, 27 December 1773. Maillart and Ternay also report on these events; see ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 62, fol. 1, Ternay and Maillart to the Minister of the Navy, 17 June 1774.  [Mayeur], “Voyage dans le nord de Madagascar”, 95.  Beňovský sent his letters to Des Assises from here. Also in a letter, the “Plaine de la Santé” is referred to as Beňovský’s “headquarters”; see ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 41, Des Assises [?] to Maillart, 28 October 1774.  Beňovský had a plan drawn of the future city: ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 104, Beňovský to Sartine, 22 September 1774. The Minister of the Navy also thought that, in the future, the “Plaine de la Santé” might become the capital of Madagascar; see ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 7, fol. 1, draft letter to Beňovský, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, nos. 20 – 21, register with a copy of the correspondence between Beňovsky´ and Des Assises (30 September 1774– 19 January 1775).

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is Malagasy workers; and this recruitment problem was exacerbated when they could no longer supply the workers even with rice because of the food shortage.⁶⁰ Beňovský intended to compensate for this situation by buying slaves from Africa.⁶¹ Moreover, there were many thefts, because the storehouses were not sufficiently fortified.⁶² Finally, the security situation seemed to be unsatisfactory. In a letter to Des Assises on 28 October, Beňovský delivered a sermon on the need to defy death.⁶³ On 1 December, he gave Des Assises orders in the event of an attack by the “blacks”.⁶⁴ Who were the “chiefs” with whom Beňovský was dealing? What was their relationship with each other and how did the man from Upper Hungary position himself in relation to them? Beňovský’s letters to Des Assises contain many names of members of the local upper classes but unfortunately only little background information. Thus, we learn from a letter dated December 1774 that the princes “Raoul” and “Mahertomp” were hostile to the French settlement and endeavoured to win over to their side “Efoulaché” and “Sianique” (probably Tsianihina) and “Manding”, a minor local “chief”.⁶⁵ “Manding” did not openly take action against Louisbourg, but he did disturb the development of the settlement secretly by forbidding his subjects to trade with the French.⁶⁶ Yet, Beňovský also had allies in Antongil Bay, for example the unknown “Lamburante”, who wanted to marry off his son to a Frenchwoman.⁶⁷ “Lamburante” belonged to the clan of the Sambarivo, who opposed the dominance of another clan, the Zafirabe. Beňovský did not create local conflicts, but rather took part in those that were ongoing. These wars never involved a united Malagasy front against the French, but rather some Malagasy against other Malagasy who allied themselves with the French.⁶⁸ The adventurer from Upper Hun-

 Beňovsky´ to Des Assises: ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 20, fols. 2 f., 5, 7, 16; ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 20 bis, fol. 1; ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 21, fols. 10, 18.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 20, fol. 6, Beňovsky´ to Des Assises, 29 October 1774.  Ibid., fol. 2; C 5 A 5, no. 21, fol. 9 f., Beňovsky´ to Des Assises, 17 November 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 20, fol. 5, Beňovsky´ to Des Assises, 28 October 1774.  Ibid., fol. 7 f.  In the eighteenth century, Europeans increasingly refused to call less powerful African princes “kings”. The term “chief” allowed them not to suggest any equivalence between these local rulers and European kings; see Brauner, Kompanien, Könige und caboceers, 125 – 145. A similar use of the term can be observed in Madagascar.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 20, fol. 8, Beňovsky´ to Des Assises, 6 December 1774; C 5 A 5, no. 21, fol. 10, Beňovsky´ to Des Assises, 17 November 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 20, fol. 12, Beňovsky´ to Des Assises, 15 December 1774.  Ratsivalaka’s insistance on “Malagasy” resistance to French colonialism is somewhat misleading: Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, 174– 247.

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gary got caught up in a conflict with different local clans who were Sakalava by descent, and finally even with Boina, the most powerful Sakalava kingdom. In the early eighteenth century, Antongil Bay had been conquered by the Zafirabe clan, also called “Antamarouas” or “Antamarois” in the French sources. At the time of Beňovský’s stay in Madagascar, two members of this dynasty, who were probably brothers,⁶⁹ shared this region between them. According to French sources, the most powerful was the aforementioned Prince “Raoul”. The clan of the “Sambarives” – apparently from “Sambarivo”, the term for the slaves of the Sakalava kings – was at enmity with the Zafirabe.⁷⁰ Nothing more is known about the Sambarivo, to whom “Lamburante” may have belonged, except that they allied themselves with Beňovský and continued to wage war against the Zafirabe after his departure.⁷¹ It is unclear whether at the end of 1774, Beňovský continued to wage war against “Raboc’s” village.⁷² In his letters, the commander of Louisbourg expresses his frustration that his forces were not sufficient to “subdue all [these] robbers”.⁷³ What is certain is that the war broke out again in August 1775. According to news that Mayeur received that month from a messenger, the Zafirabe shot at the “Sambarives” and Beňovský during a large meeting of princes. The “Séclaves”, which presumably means the Sakalava from Boina, apparently had helped the Zafirabe, while Raul had remained neutral. According to Mayeur, Beňovský listened to the voice of justice and took the side of the unfairly attacked “Sambarives”. Now the French were locked up in Louisbourg and in the fort of the “Plaine de la Santé”; the whole region was devastated.⁷⁴ La Pérouse tells a similar story, although he portrays Beňovský even more clearly as a victim than Mayeur did. According to him, this war was justified on the part of the French, but it had disastrous consequences. Beňovský convened a meeting with the “blacks” in order to propose useful business to them. But when he was among them, he heard them shout, “Kill, kill!” (“tue, tue”). Several indigenous people apparently tried to shoot him and the

 Vérin, The History of Civilization, 114 f.  Feeley-Harnik, Gillian, “The Significance of Kinship in Sakalava Monarchy”, in: Omaly sy Anio 17– 20 (1983 – 1984), 135 – 144.  More on the Zafirabe and Sambarivo: Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, vol. 1, 204– 210.  Mayeur, who was in the far north of the island at the time, seems not to have believed the news that Beňovský had attacked Raboc’s village; see [Mayeur,] “Voyage dans le nord de Madagascar”, 104– 106.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 20, fol. 8, Beňovsky´ to Des Assises, 6 December 1774: “assujétir tous les brigands”.  [Mayeur], “Voyage dans le nord de Madagascar”, 121 f.

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commander fled by cutting his way through the crowd with his stick. According to La Pérouse, he then had his cannons fired into the air to frighten the Malagasy without injuring them and demanded that the “chiefs” hand over the culprits. Because his demands were rejected, Beňovský declared war on the local princes. La Pérouse writes that five hundred “Sambarives” came to his aid; the “baron” expelled the “Antamarois”, by which he meant the Zafirabe, and put the “Sambarives” in their place. Unfortunately, the “Sambarives” did not cultivate the land, which is why there now was a famine, La Pérouse claims.⁷⁵ One thing is certain: by the end of 1775, the French settlements on the Great Island were in a wretched state.⁷⁶ Nevertheless, it seems as if Beňovský succeeded in turning the political situation in his favour. In October 1775, Mayeur states that the Zafirabe “chiefs” regretted their attack and asked him to ask the “general” – a title Beňovský had given to himself in the meantime – on their behalf for forgiveness.⁷⁷ Bellecombe, Chevreau and La Pérouse witnessed in September 1776 how all the princes of the region held a meeting at Beňovský’s and endeavoured to establish good relations with the French, whereby this harmony may have been forced by the arrival of the commissioners accompanied by troops. The commissioners report that Beňovský assured them that he had already made peace four months earlier;⁷⁸ that in July 1776, two months before the arrival of the inspectors, the “Antamarois” had returned to their land without resuming their work in the fields. The “Sambarives” had wanted to return to their ancestral region, but their compatriots had told them to stay with their “white” friends. They now demanded of Beňovský to supply them with weapons to regain their former properties. According to La Pérouse, however, the commander of Louisbourg instead launched a war against the Sakalava of Boina. He called on his “allies” to go into battle with him, but only twenty-five “blacks”⁷⁹ turned up. All the others, by contrast, had burnt their rice to starve the French army, and the soldiers could consider themselves lucky to have returned with their artillery to Louisbourg.⁸⁰  Report by La Pérouse in ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 5 f.  Two letters from traders report on this: ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 85, “Extrait d’une lettre d’un particulier au chevalier de Ternay”, 4 December 1775; C 5 A 5, no. 88, “Copie de la lettre de M. Bourdé”, 6 December 1775.  [Mayeur], “Voyage dans le nord de Madagascar”, 131 f.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 29, diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau.  From a memorandum by Bellecombe and Chevreau we learn that these “blacks” had been sent by Iavy; see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 76, fol. 12, Bellecombe and Chevreau’s reflections on Beňovský’s replies, October 1776.  Report by La Pérouse in ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 12, fol. 5 f. An abbreviated version of this story can also be found in a memorandum by Bellecombe and Chevreau; see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mém-

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La Pérouse seems to be following the narrative of Beňovský or of one of his confidants by conveying the genesis of the war in a way that is very favourable to the commander. This creates the impression that Beňovský, as the one who had been attacked, had waged a just war. Beňovský’s letters to Des Assises, however, convey the image of a very aggressive commander who dreamed of subjugating the princes of the region by force of arms.⁸¹ Unlike Maudave, Beňovský tried to keep his distance from the local “chiefs”. He advised Des Assises “not to get too intimate with them”.⁸² The “friendship” they offered to the intendant “by the solemnity of [their] bacchanalian visit” should not be taken seriously. It meant, above all, that they were “ready to accept benefactions from [French, D. T.] bottles”.⁸³ It seemed advisable to Beňovský not to discuss controversial issues with the local princes. He forbade Des Assises to convene a meeting of the “chiefs” to find a solution to the Malagasy’s refusal to work as they were to expedite the building-up of the settlement in return for payment. The princes of the region should not get the idea that they had any say in the matter.⁸⁴ Based on their observations, Bellecombe and Chevreau concluded that Beňovský never had any intention other than to conquer Madagascar. He had never considered trade and was largely responsible for the wars. He had wanted to start off with what might have been achieved over time, namely the assertion of French sovereignty on the Great Island.⁸⁵ In their diary, the commissioners draw the following portrait of the adventurer from Upper Hungary: It is difficult to find another man who has such extraordinary ideas and gives such strange speeches. Giving orders and ruling despotically seem to be his two greatest passions. The desire to wage war and to use his sabre animates and excites him like a fever. After all, one of his predominant principles is “Ultima ratio regum” (this is the motto on his cannons) […].⁸⁶

oires/88, no. 76, fol. 11, reflections by Bellecombe and Chevreau on Beňovský’s replies, October 1776.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 20, fol. 8, Beňovsky´ to Des Assises, 6 December 1774.  Ibid., fol. 1.  Ibid.: “l’amitié des chefs qu’ils vous ont témoigné par la solemnité de la visite bachique est une preuve qu’ils sont tout prêt de recevoir les bienfaits de vos bouteilles”.  Ibid., fol. 1 f.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 76, fols. 8, 23, Bellecombe and Chevreau’s reflections on Beňovský’s replies, October 1776. “Ultima ratio regum” means “Force is the last argument of kings”. This sentence refers to the fact that war is a legitimate means of conflict resolution when diplomacy has run its course.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 36 f., diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776: “Il est difficile de rencontrer un homme plus extraordinnaire et dans ses idées et dans ses propos; le désir de

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In contrast, the Malagasy princes receive praise from the inspectors who note in several places that their response to Beňovský’s aggression was appropriate. The scorched earth tactic proved that the Malagasy knew that the French needed them more than they needed the French.⁸⁷ Bellecombe and Chevreau admired Iavy’s political game who, as a traditional partner of the French, gave Beňovský a small contingent of twenty-five men for his war against the Sakalava of Boina on the one hand, and on the other hand, forbade all the other “chiefs” to fight against the Sakalava.⁸⁸

Slave Trader and Tyrant The commissioners found the behaviour of the Malagasy understandable but not that of Beňovský whom they considered odd. Bellecombe and Chevreau were astounded by the adventurous policies of the French king’s commander. His intention to wage war against Boina appeared to them disproportionate to his resources. This war project had been preceded by two attempts at getting established on the rich north-west coast of Madagascar. In April 1774, Beňovský sent his interpreter Mayeur to Boina to set up a trading post on the west coast.⁸⁹ He probably preferred to receive the zebus and slaves directly from the king of the Sakalava rather than from Iavy, who procured his supplies in Boina or among the Merina. Mayeur managed to cover half the distance between Louisburg and Boina only with the greatest effort. When he wanted to open a trading post in a village, the village elder refused to let him do so for fear of displeasing the Sakalava ruler. Mayeur decided to move on to Boina but was stopped by messengers from the Sakalava king. The interpreter referred to his commission, but the messengers of the king of Boina indicated politely but firmly that he was in the territory of a powerful sovereign and consequently was not in a position to make

commander et le despotisme paroissent ses deux passions favorites ; l’envie de guerroyer et de faire usage de son sabre l’anime et l’échauffe souvent et comme par accès, enfin l’ultima ratio regum (c’est la devise de ses canons) est un de ses préceptes favoris […]”.  Ibid., fol. 32.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 76, fols. 8, 12, Bellecombe’s and Chevreau’s reflections on Beňovský’s replies, October 1776. On the alliance between Beňovský and Iavy, also see C 5 A 5, no. 20, fol. 11, Beňovský to Des Assises, 20 December 1774.  According to Mayeur, the aim was to open up a trade route to the “Bay of Moringano”; see Filliot, Jean-Michel, La Traite des esclaves vers les Mascareignes au XVIIIe siècle, Paris 1974, 157, footnote 6.

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any demands. After a long wait, the Frenchman had no choice but to turn back. He reached the “Plaine de la Santé” on 20 September 1774.⁹⁰ As soon as November, Beňovský sent him away again, this time to the north. Apparently, Mayeur was supposed to conduct trade on the west coast, north of the kingdom of Boina, where the commander of Louisbourg seems to have been particularly interested in the slave trade. Mayeur first tried to establish a settlement in Angontsy, a village on the east coast to the northeast of Louisbourg. Eventually, the local princes agreed to his plan, but only in return for large payments and the promise that nothing more than a trading post would be built. The rest of the journey was to prove even more disappointing. Many “chiefs” did not want to allow Mayeur to pass through their country out of deference to the Sakalava monarch or the regent. Eventually, the interpreter found a prince in the north who was sympathetic to the French, but he was poor and powerless. Moreover, he refused to enter into an alliance with the French, because he was afraid of Boina. After a journey of almost a year, Mayeur returned empty-handed.⁹¹ These fruitless journeys and Beňovský’s difficulties in realising his expansion plans by force show the almost total powerlessness of the French commander. In the end, he did no more than establish a few small and miserable settlements.⁹² Apparently to compensate for his lack of success, Beňovský exercised a downright tyrannical rule over the French traders approaching Madagascar’s shores, so much so that within a few years, six private citizens filed complaints against him with the administrators of Île de France. These files reveal much about Beňovský’s audacity. On his own initiative, he decided to take away from private citizens the right to trade in Madagascar and seized private vessels or forced their captains to enter his service and procure slaves for him. The already heavily-indebted⁹³ Savournin, for example, sailed to Nosy Boraha to rescue a ship of his that had run aground and to acquire slaves. Beňovský had him arrested and confiscated the vessel. But when Savournin was brought to the “baron”, to his great astonishment, he was received in an extremely friendly

 Mayeur, Nicolas, “Voyage à la côte de l’Ouest de Madagascar (pays des Séclaves) par Mayeur (1774). Rédigé par Barthélémy Huet de Froberville”, in: Bulletin de l’Académie Malgache 10 (1913), 49 – 91.  [Mayeur], “Voyage dans le nord de Madagascar”.  Ratsivalaka is clearly mistaken in claiming that Beňovský was a menace to major Malagasy powers such as Boina. This overestimation of Beňovský’s strength may result from Ratsivalaka’s endeavour to justify the necessity of the Merina expansion. See Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, vol. 1, esp. 192– 210, 277– 317.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 116, Ternay to Boynes, 28 October 1774.

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manner. Beňovský expressed sympathy with Savournin’s situation, but the following day, the trader was forced to sign a contract according to which he would pay Beňovský the astonishing sum of 100,000 livres a year for the privilege of trading in the south of the Great Island. Under these conditions, Savournin was allowed to return to Nosy Boraha with a reduced workforce and the rest of his human cargo. But with only eight sailors left on board, the slaves mutinied and seized control of the ship.⁹⁴ A trader called Bérubé fared little better. His ship was to sail to India, but because of a leak, Comparans, the captain, was forced to anchor in Antongil Bay. Beňovský promptly seized the ship and only released Comparans when he agreed to sail to Boina rather than to India, to buy slaves there and sell them at the Cape of Good Hope. When the captain replied that he had no experience whatsoever of engagement in such a trade, Beňovský assured him that his interpreter Mayeur would be there to help him. He also forced Comparans to sign a paper stating that the commander of Louisbourg had advanced to the king of France 43,000 livres out of his private purse to purchase Bérubé’s goods, when in fact he had confiscated them without compensation.⁹⁵ In summary, it may be said that Beňovský tried to use his position as commander of Madagascar to establish his rule over northern Madagascar by force and to enrich himself through criminality. While Maudave had endeavoured to gain authority over the Malagasy by the “soft means” of symbolic communication at least initially, the man from Upper Hungary tried his hand as a conquistador. It would be unfair, however, to attribute the wars to the commander’s policies alone. The conflict between Iavy, the king of the Betsimisaraka, and the Fariava had a long history. Basically, the problem was that the rulers of Mahavelona prevented the Fariava from trading with the French.⁹⁶ Iavy’s father Andrianjanahary (“Jean-Harre” to the French) had already fought against them. According to French sources, war erupted when French slave traders provided the Fariava with firearms against Andrianjanahary. Iavy blamed the Fariava for the  For Savournin’s charge, see ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 74bis, “Mémoire historique de ce qui m’est arrivé à Madagascar relativement à M. le baron de Beniowsky”, n.d. Also see ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 92, Beňovsky´ to Maillart, 31 December 1775.  For Bérubé’s complaint, see ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 59, “Extrait des registres de greffe de la jurisdiction royale de l’Île de France concernant la plainte de Bérubé-Dudemène contre le baron de Benyowsky”, 21 June 1775; ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 35, “Détail général du cours du voyage du senault Le Bougainville”, 15 April 1775. Also see ANOM, C 5 A 5, nos. 52, 60, 61, 67; C 5 A 4, nos. 124, 125, 127. Beňovský also instructed captain Saunier to sell slaves in Cape Town; see Archives nationales, MAR/B/4/125, fols. 280 – 282, Saunier to an unknown recipient, 29 January 1775.  ANOM, E 133, Diard’s personnel file, fol. 2, “Copie du mémoire justificatif de la conduit de Diard”, 25 September 1781.

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death of his father and the desecration of his father’s body and wanted to avenge him. Though the king of the Fariava admitted that Andrianjanahary’s body had been desecrated, he claimed that the perpetrators had not acted according to his orders when they ripped out the corpse’s beard and tied it to the neck of a dog (an unclean animal). Against the background of the central role played by the ancestor cult in Madagascar, this was a very serious offence. According to Mayeur, Iavy finally had the two culprits burnt alive.⁹⁷ Beňovský and his troops appear not to have had any influence on these events.⁹⁸ Neither was the conflict between the Zafirabe and the “Sambarives” a new one when Beňovský arrived in Antongil Bay. Here, however, the man from Upper Hungary caused a resumption of hostilities with the Zafirabe. Ultimately, the devastation caused by the two wars and the prohibition of private trade contributed decisively to the failure of the French settlement. In May 1778, the Minister of the Navy, Sartine, proposed to King Louis XVI to relinquish the settlements in Antongil Bay.⁹⁹ Once again, a French colonisation attempt did not leave a lasting material legacy. For more than a century after Maudave and Beňovský, the French kept only a few storehouses surrounded by palisades on the mainland of the Great Island.¹⁰⁰ Nevertheless, the colonisation attempts of Beňovský left an important legacy: his writings, like Maudave’s, influenced the history of French colonialism.

 [Mayeur], “Voyage à la côte de l’Ouest”, 63.  Beňovský states that he supported Iavy in principle but refused him military assistance in March 1775. Only in September of that year, he sent seven soldiers and an officer to Iavy; see ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 14, fol. 70 f., 92 f., memorandum by Chevillard. A more important role was probably played by the trader Savournin, who supplied both sides with gunpowder, thereby incurring Iavy’s wrath; see ANOM, E 133, Diard’s personnel file, fol. 3, “Copie du mémoire justificatif de la conduite de Diard”, 25 September 1781.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 134, Sartine to Louis XVI, 22 May 1778.  Filliot, “Les Établissements français à Madagascar”; Wanquet, “Entre délire de conquête et parcimonie”. Rich in detail, though not very reliable is Campbell, “Imperial Rivalry”, 83 – 86.

6 Beňovský or The Enlightenment Robinsonade Published in London in 1790, Beňovský’s memoirs quickly became a bestseller.¹ This edition contains the only known portrait of the “Count de Beňovský” (“comes de Benyowsky”) (Fig. 6) as he is called in the title of the engraving. It depicts a middle-aged man with a rather round face, a discreet smile and a mild, spirited look. His appearance contrasts with the ruthlessness and belligerence that the adventurer from Upper Hungary displayed on the Great Island. The fact that the engraver drew the portrait of a mild individual may be due to the image that Beňovský created of himself in his memoirs. He was an aggressive writer of letters, memoranda and memoirs, and employed not only his cannon but also his pen in the service of the politics of conquest. The focus of what follows will be on his writing and information strategies. Up to now, historiography has asked about the extent to which Beňovský is to be considered a liar.² However, his recourse to different document and text genres, his plausibility strategies or even the imaginary worlds and narrative patterns that he mobilised, have not yet been a subject of study.³ Did the way in which the commander of Louisbourg dealt with his failure contribute to the consolidation and propagation of the dream of colonising Madagascar as the Comte de Maudave had conceived it? In what way did Beňovský’s methods of generating information and his way of presenting events differ from those of his predecessor? What role did the Enlightenment play in the development of the colonial imagination? This chapter will examine two groups of sources that were created during two different periods of Beňovský’s activities. On the one hand, there are the documents – letters, memoranda, maps, tables, lists, texts of contracts – which Beňovský wrote for the administrators of Île de France and the Versailles headquarters shortly before his arrival in Madagascar or during his time there; and, on the other hand, two different retrospective accounts of his experiences, the manuscript “Mémoire sur l’expédition de Madagascar” and the printed memoirs. These diverse sources raise the question of how Beňovský used different types of texts to gain support for his colonisation projects from French and

 Beňovsky´, Móric Ágost, The Memoirs and Travels of Mauritius August Count de Benyowsky, […] written by himself, Dublin 1790.  See the section on the state of scholarship in chapter 5.  Particularly useful preliminary work is the comparison undertaken by Pauline Vacher between the unpublished and the printed memoirs of Beňovský; see Vacher, Contribution à l’histoire, 14– 26. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-008

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other European elites. Which topoi, which imaginaries, and which strategies of information, plausibility and writing did he resort to, in which contexts and with what aim?

Fig. 6: Portrait of Moritz August Beňovský.

A Robinson Crusoe in Madagascar Shortly after his arrival on Île de France where he was waiting for the ship to Madagascar, Beňovský held out the prospect of the creation of a large colony on the Red Island which would be the bulwark of French India. In future, Madagascar would provide troops for the French navy and produce all the goods for trade in the Indian Ocean. Beňovský planned the creation of several colonies of farmers and craftsmen which, among other things, would include coffee, sugar cane and cotton plantations as well as tanneries and rope works. He thought of introducing customs duties in the port of Boina which he would collect from the “Arab” traders.⁴ Beňovský declared that he wanted to realise these daring plans in a peaceful manner. Although he wrote that he would ally himself “for the war operations” with a local “chief”, at the same time his project was based on making friends with the “chiefs” of the region. To this end, one would simply satisfy the greed of some with gifts and the ambition of others with tokens of respect.  For a summary of Beňovský’s letters and memoranda, see ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 2, fols. 2– 4, excerpts from Beňovský’s letters, n.d.

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Beňovský would show them the advantages of a “union” with the French.⁵ Accordingly, he asked the Ministry of the Navy to send French settler families to establish a “very rich” colony and, over time, to familiarise the indigenous people “with our customs, fashions and luxuries”.⁶ Beňovský wanted to build no fewer than twelve settlements and forts on the Red Island.⁷ Only five weeks after his arrival in Antongil Bay, Beňovský reported to Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, that he had drained the marshes around Louisbourg and had batteries and further fortifications built as well as several wells with drinking water, various residential buildings, barracks, storehouses and a pontoon for loading and unloading the ships.⁸ “Dazzled” (“ébloui”) by all this, the “chiefs of this part of the island” pledged allegiance to the French king. They were now, according to Beňovský, subjects of His Majesty and had surrendered the entire region to the French monarch. However, there were two types of indigenous peoples, the sedentary ones and the vagabonds. While the former could be trusted, the latter were robbers of whom the country, following the appeals of the local “chiefs”, should now be “cleansed”. Among them Beňovský includes “chief” Raul, the most important Sakalava prince of the region.⁹ About five months later, around 1 September 1774, Beňovský expanded this narrative so as to convince the Minister of the Navy to send him settlers, troops, food, merchandise and money. At that time, he settled in the “Plaine de la Santé” which he presented as another decisive stage in the subjugation of Madagascar.¹⁰ According to Beňovský, the “subjected chiefs” were all charmed by the gentleness of the French government and had volunteered troops. He already had two companies with indigenous soldiers under his command. Beňovský further claimed to have secured the trust of the local population by forcing the “chiefs” to hand over their rice fields to the people. The natives had improved their customs. No more was heard of betrayals, poisonings or the murder of

 Ibid., fol. I, 3.  For Beňovsky´’s first letter to the Minister of the Navy of 13 September 1774, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 46, fol. 2, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 13 September 1774: “faire les naturels du pays à nos usages, nos modes, et au luxe”.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 47, Beňovský to the Minister of the Navy, 13 September. 1774. Similarly in MAE, Asie 4, no. 7, fol. 34, “Remarques sur l’entreprise de Madagascar”. Beňovský sent the Minister plans of future cities and forts; see ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 46, Beňovský to the Minister of the Navy, 14 January 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 55, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 22 March 1774.  Ibid., fol. I f.  See the following letters from Beňovský to the Minister of the Navy from September 1774 in ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 35, 105.

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small children that the Malagasy used to commit for superstitious reasons. The Malagasy prayed that they be allowed to live under such a gentle government.¹¹ In a letter to an employee of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Beňovský described in detail how these successes had come about. When a war broke out among the natives and the fighting parties stood face to face on either side of a river, Beňovský along with twenty soldiers came by boat between the armies and exhorted them in a speech to keep the peace. As a result, the “chiefs” of the region appointed him to be judge over the parties. Beňovský claimed to have brought about peace by virtue of his authority, established a just social order and eliminated numerous criminal practices.¹² In the same month of September, Beňovský announced that Mayeur had managed to pave a way to Boina, the thriving port city located in the north-west of the island. The commander quoted from letters allegedly written by the interpreter according to which the road was pleasant, the “chiefs” had welcomed the French with open arms and Mayeur had established a settlement in the northwest of the island. The king of Boina would deliver to Louisbourg 3,000 zebus and 1,200 slaves a year. Beňovský reported that for this trade, he had equipped the ship of the merchant Bérubé and sent it to Boina.¹³ It was as a result of his successes that the traders of Île de France came to Madagascar. Three of them had proposed very advantageous deals. Beňovský had selected Savournin and granted him the privilege of trading in the south of the Great Island.¹⁴ In March 1775 Beňovský took the next step in this imaginary conquest of Madagascar. The province of Angontsy, which was located in the north-east of Antongil Bay, had submitted. Most importantly, the “chief” of the entire northern tip of the island, the Cap d’Ambre, had subjected himself voluntarily and for all eternity to the French government. Moreover, Beňovský had forced Prince “Savassi”, an Arab, to “submit […] to the French flag” (“se soumettre […] au pavillon français”), and thus the French were now in possession of a port on the west coast which was favourable for trade with the east coast of Africa and the Red Sea.¹⁵ Beňovský reported the construction of several forts and immense tribute payments by the natives. He also affirmed that, thanks to the draining of

 See the following letters of Beňovský from September 1774 in ANOM, C 5 A 4, nos. 36, 47, 48, 49.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 50, fols. 110 – 115, Beňovsky´ to a “cher et tendre ami”, 18 September 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 34, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 1 September 1774. Also see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 43, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 38, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 18 September 1774, as well as no. 71, “Contrat passé entre le baron de Beniowsky et le sieur Savournin”, 9 August 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 26, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 16 March 1775.

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the swamps and the good air of the “Plaine de la Santé”, the Europeans in Madagascar no longer fell ill.¹⁶ The following month, Beňovský expanded into a full-fledged narrative his earlier claim that he had abolished infanticide. Now the adventurer attributed to the women a decisive role in this humane development. He claimed that until his arrival, the Malagasy had killed all the infants born on “unlucky days” (“jours malheureux”) or with a deformity or whose first tooth had appeared in the upper jaw. In order finally to eradicate these inhumane practices, Beňovský’s wife had allegedly gathered all the women of the region and explained to them the “abomination [of this] barbarism”. Moved by this speech, the Malagasy women had put pressure on their men to change the laws.¹⁷ At the end of May 1775, it was the turn of the kingdom of Boina to be subjugated on paper. Through their hostility towards the French, the Sakalava had incurred “the hatred of the natives of the country” (“la haine des naturels du pays”) and finally capitulated in the face of political pressure. Also, the Sakalava had preferred French to Arab dominance. Yet Beňovský had never sought anything other than an alliance with Boina. The French government would now receive an annual tribute of one thousand zebus, twenty slaves and a large quantity of rice. He himself was in a position to call up 15,000 armed “blacks” and leave another 2,000 to the Royal Navy.¹⁸ Thus, a few months before the arrival of the commissioners Bellecombe and Chevreau, Beňovský claimed to have established French rule in the entire north of Madagascar through a “soft” policy. To make this astonishing claim plausible and convince the political elite in the motherland, he had to resort to innovative writing strategies.

Narrativisation and Objectivisation To lend credibility to his reports, Beňovský resorted to three different means, namely the narrativisation of the late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar which Maudave had shaped; the objectivisation of the resulting narration through the production of documents; and the control of the flow of information from Madagascar.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 28, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 20 March 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 36, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 17 April 1775: “l’horreur de la barbarie qu’ils comettaient”.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 41, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 30 May 1775; MAE, Asie 4, no. 57, fol. 131 f., Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 12 July 1775.

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First, Beňovský drew on Maudave’s imaginary. He resorted to the discourse of gentle colonial expansion established by his predecessor. The new commander had read Maudave’s memoirs in Versailles and felt inspired by them. Thus, Beňovský had the infanticide story from writings by Maudave, who had promised to educate the abandoned children and to eradicate this barbaric custom.¹⁹ By adopting Maudave’s discourse, Beňovský met the expectations of Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, who wished to see gentle social intercourse with the natives. However, Beňovský went further than Maudave and so developed his own narrative as commander of Madagascar in the course of his correspondence. Beňovský thus created something fundamentally new. Maudave had remained too close to the disappointing daily events to build a seamless narrative of colonial expansion, and the narrative often contradicted his own theories. Valgny, for his part, had used the epistolary novel genre to stage Malagasy voices, but had not written a coherent narrative of colonial subjugation either. What was remarkable moreover about Beňovský’s narrativisation of the “gentle” colonial expansion was the genre he used for it. Unlike Valgny, the commander of Louisbourg did not resort to the genre of the novel, but to official letters. The decisive factor here was that reports imply a completely different pact with the reader from novels, as a reporter claims to depict reality objectively. Over the months, Beňovský declared as accomplished that which Maudave had dreamed of for the future. The narrativisation in official letters of Maudave’s colonisation project thus amounted to a strategy of concealing the unglamorous truth. By choosing a genre that lays claim to objectivity, Beňovský endeavoured not to allow such tensions between reporting, explaining, negating and concealing, as had been characteristic of Maudave’s diary and which had been only partially alleviated by a strategy of ironisation, to arise in the first place. The process of narrativisation is particularly striking in the reports about the civilising of the Malagasy. While Maudave and Valgny had held out the prospect of ending infanticide, Beňovský in one of his narratives claimed to have reached this goal. To this end, he invented a sentimental figure,²⁰ the Malagasy mother, whose natural love for her child was not only to create a touching moment in the narrative but also make plausible the voluntary renunciation of the established custom. In his letters, Beňovský endeavoured to create what Diderot called “his-

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 12, fol. 14, transcripts of texts on Madagascar; MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 49. Maudave had probably been inspired by Valgny; see ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 31, p. 9, Valgny to Dumas, 23 October 1767.  On the sentimental figures and their role as tropes in representations of the relationship between colonial masters and the colonised, see Festa, Lynn, Sentimental Figures of Empire in Eighteenth-century Britain and France, Baltimore 2006.

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torical fairy tales”, that is fictions that create a semblance of reality through realistic detail. He invented numerous details to convey a vivid picture of what was being narrated. Thus, he did not content himself with saying that he had subjected the peoples of northern Madagascar but told how he had given each of them their own version of the French flag.²¹ Above all, it was important for the commander of Louisbourg to draw a picture of the Malagasy and their interactions with the French that made plausible the voluntary submission of the indigenous peoples. In Beňovský’s texts, two alleged characteristics of the Malagasy point in this direction. First, the locals admire the French. This becomes evident, for example, when the author relates how he bestowed on his allies the title of “mulattos or sons of whites” (“mulâtres ou fils de blancs”) because in Madagascar, white skin colour was associated with a special honour.²² Second, the narratives suggest that the autochthonous population was characterised by a strong tendency towards superstition which the “whites” could exploit. According to the commander’s report, the “blacks”, who had tried in vain to shoot at him with the rifle, thought he was a magician.²³ This strategy is also evident in a letter allegedly from the interpreter Mayeur that Beňovský had written himself. The letter describes how the commander had gained the favour of the king of Boina through a ruse. He had first won over an old man, who was responsible for animal sacrifices in the king’s entourage, to the project of a French settlement in the Boina bay. The latter had advised the king to seek “the advice of the deity” (“le conseil de la divinité”) in order to know whether Beňovský’s demand for a trade treaty should be complied with. To this end, fifty cows were brought in and given poison to drink. Mayeur had waited for twenty-four hours for an answer, suffering the torments of hell. Then, suddenly, there were cries of joy ringing out in the village: the animals had survived. This was interpreted as a sign that heaven regarded with favour the decision to establish trade relations with the French.²⁴ Yet, Beňovský was not content simply to transform Maudave’s imaginary into narratives. He also pursued strategies to objectify them. It was crucial for the credibility of the narratives to be supported by documents and to this end, Beňovský used different genres in an innovative way. He provided the ministerial

 ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 14, fol. 91, “Mémoire détaillé concernant l’établissement royal de Madagascar”, n.d.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 59, fol. 2, “Détail de la dernière guerre que le gouvernement royal de Madagascar a eu à soutenir contre une partie des chefs des provinces du nord”, n.d.  Ibid., fol. 3.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 34, fol. 3, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 1 September 1774.

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elites with maps illustrating all his achievements.²⁵ One map depicts the settlement of Louisbourg with a governor’s house and a French ornamental garden, officers’ houses, barracks, tree-lined avenues forming a checkerboard pattern, a fort, a dyke, a lock, storehouses, cannon batteries, separate living quarters for the harbour officers, two villages for local people laid out in a checkerboard pattern and plots of land handed over for development (Fig. 7).²⁶ Likewise, he sent maps of the road he had supposedly built to the west coast.²⁷ Moreover, Beňovský kept “lists of subjugated chiefs” (“liste des chefs soumis”)²⁸ and did not omit to send to his superiors the wording of the treaties he had allegedly concluded with the local princes.²⁹ Another text genre were the minutes of imaginary meetings of the Council of Officers, which Beňovský used, among other things, to legitimise the plan for a war against the Sakalava.³⁰ The commander also quoted from letters that his officers had allegedly written. Even before his arrival in Madagascar, he sent to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs a copy of a report by an officer who claimed that the north of Madagascar had already been subjugated – most likely an early forgery.³¹ The long list of forgeries includes the copy of the above-mentioned alleged letter from Mayeur in which the latter reports that he had opened up a way to Boina.³² Finally, the commander sent to the administrators of Île de France documents signed by traders: the contract

 In addition to the two maps mentioned, also see the map of a proposed town and military camp in ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 46, Beňovský to the Minister of the Navy, 14 January 1774; BnF, NAF no. 9413, fol. 346, “Plan de l’établissement de Benyowsky”. Beňovský sent at least eleven maps in total to Versailles; see MAE Asie 4, no. 74, “État des cartes géographiques relatives aux mémoires et à la correspondance de M. le baron de Beniowsky, tant sur l’île de Madagascar en général que sur l’établissement qu’il avait formé y, et qui se trouvent dans la collection geographique du Dépôt des affaires étrangères”, 1792.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 13, map of the settlement of Louisbourg, n.d.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 49, Beňovsky´ to a “cher ami”, 24 September 1774.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 52, Beňovsky´ to the Foreign Minister, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 11, “Acte du serment des rois, princes et chefs de Madagascar commencé le 1er octobre 1776 dans la plaine de Mahavelona, pour élire Maurice-Auguste de Benyowsky au rang d’Ampansacabé”, n.d.  See ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 38 (“Traité général conclu par M. de Beniowsky avec les chefs de l’île de Madagascar”, 1 May 1775) and 41, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 30 May 1775; MAE, Asie 4, no. 57 (Beňovsky´ to a “cher ami”, 12 July 1775) and 58 (“Traité général conclu par M. de Beniowsky avec les chefs de l’île de Madagascar l’année 1775”).  Minutes attached to Beňovský’s letter of 10 April 1776: ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 76, n.d.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 20, fol. 58 f., “Copie du rapport reçu de Madagascar que le S. Dessertin, officier commandant le détachement des volontaires, à écrit à M. le baron de Benyowsky”, 8 December 1773.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 34, fols. 1– 3, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 1 September 1774; [Mayeur], “Voyage à la côte de l’ouest”.

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by which Savournin had “acquired” the privilege of trading in the south of the Great Island for 100,000 livres and the receipt for 43,000 livres for Bérubé’s goods. In contrast to the documents invented by Beňovský, these papers had in fact been signed by the traders, though only under duress, as the previous chapter has shown. Finally, Beňovský’s strategies included a policy of controlling the flow of information from Madagascar. In order to make his novel-like sequence of stories seem credible, it was crucial that no other version of the events would reach Versailles. To this end, he had to prevent those working in Madagascar from informing the Mascarenes or the mother country and so forbade his subordinates to write.³³ He confiscated any letters written or received by his officers, soldiers and employees, with the result that they complained to the Minister of the Navy.³⁴ Likewise, Beňovský’s treatment of Mayeur says much about the methods of his information policy. He had indeed sent his interpreter to Boina on the west coast, but this trip turned out very differently from what Beňovský had hoped for. This is why he tried to prevent Mayeur on his return from speaking to the French in the harbour of Antongil Bay and ordered him to stay in the “Plaine de la Santé”. Meanwhile, he sent a letter overseas about Mayeur’s great success in Boina.³⁵

Beňovský’s Contradictions Beňovský’s writing and information strategies served to lend credibility to his adventure novel on the subjugation of Madagascar. At the same time, however, the novel’s plausibility was undermined by the fact that his correspondence was full of contradictions. The question arises as to why the commander of Louisbourg did not paint a coherent picture of events on the Great Island. In several letters Beňovský conveyed a picture of the situation in Madagascar that was distinctly different from those in the texts that reported a gentle subjugation of the Malagasy. The adventurer in his correspondence declared again and again that he was forced to wage war. He asked the minister, for example, to send him an artillery company of sixty men, because the Malagasy were terrified of cannons and that this fear had already enabled him to subjugate entire provinces.³⁶ He did not conceal his warlike conflicts with local princes. He    

ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 90, fol. 1, Ternay to the Minister of the Navy, 6 September 1774. ANOM, B 155, fol. 24, Sartine to Beňovsky´, 7 January 1776. ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 43, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 1774. ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 100, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 19 September 1774.

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Fig. 7: Map of the alleged settlement of Louisbourg under Beňovský (n.d.).

sent to Versailles a narrative of the war that had taken place between June and the end of September 1775. The beginning of it is in line with what is also known from other sources, namely that Beňovský was attacked during a meeting by en-

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emies that are not named in this text. In response, however, Beňovský invents epic deeds such as his march with five thousand Sambarivo through the mountains and winning five victories over his opponents.³⁷ Besides his self-fashioning as a successful and clever politician whose natural authority is recognised in paradisiacal and healthy Madagascar, there was a second Beňovský who was a stoic and suffering war hero who sacrificed himself for his king. In numerous letters, Beňovský spoke of great dangers, bitter hardship, hunger, lack of clothing, hopelessness, hostility of the natives and of diseases, though without putting his success story into question. Here, the people of Madagascar appear as “treacherous by nature” (“naturellement traitres”).³⁸ There is no sign of the material abundance that Beňovský was supposed to enjoy due to their tribute payments. His self-fashioning as a self-sacrificing servant of the king went hand in hand with enormous financial demands. Beňovský always claimed to have spent vast sums out of his own pocket in the settlement of Madagascar and demanded that the king reimburse him.³⁹ That Beňovský forced the captain of Bérubé’s ship to sign a receipt stating that he had received 43,000 livres shows how such demands for money could come about.⁴⁰ His self-image as a stoic officer who spares no effort in the line of duty and who does not flinch from suffering was simultaneously accompanied by fierce accusations against the administrators of Île de France. Here, Beňovský staged himself as the victim of a conspiracy. The commander of Louisbourg put forward his conspiracy theory as early as the beginning of January 1774, that is before his arrival in Madagascar, and he repeated it again and again in different variations and with numerous embellishments until the end of the settlement. Here, too, there is an echo of Maudave’s writings, but in contrast to his predecessor, Beňovský made the accusations with a vehemence that had no regard for custom and stunned the administrators of Île de France. Maillart, the intendant, spoke of

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 59, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 41, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to Maillart and Ternay, 30 May 1775; ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 82, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 25 October 1775; MAE, Asie 4, no. 50, Beňovsky´ to a “cher et tendre ami”, 18 September 1774 (quotation: fol. 110).  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 95, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 10 September 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 111, “Tableau général des avances faites par le baron de Beniowsky à la caisse du trésor pendant l’année 1774”, 24 October 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 11 2, excerpt of a letter from Beňovsky´ to Maillart and Ternay, 26 October 1774.  For Bérubé’s complaint, see ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 59, 21 June 1775; ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 35, “Détail général du cours du voyage du senault Le Bougainville”, 15 April 1775. Also on this issue see ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 52, 60, 61, 67 and C 5 A 4, no. 124, 125, 127.

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an “extraordinary style” (“style extraordinaire”) and an “unbelievable manner” (“manière incroyable”).⁴¹ For example, the adventurer accused the intendant of Île de France of deliberately sending incompetent and morally corrupt administrators to Madagascar, falsifying the lists and invoices and denying him the necessary goods or sending him only such as were defective.⁴² According to the commander of Madagascar, Maillart refused to buy rice from the Great Island, which filled entire storehouses, and instead had more expensive rice imported from Bengal.⁴³ Beňovský attributed the outbreak of the war in 1775 to this refusal. Because Île de France did not want to accept rice from Madagascar, Beňovský, for his part, was unable to keep his promise to the indigenous people to buy their rice and that is why they revolted.⁴⁴ However, Beňovský entangled himself in contradictions when he accused Maillart of having sent a large quantity of rice to the Cape of Good Hope rather than to Madagascar, where there was a famine in the south.⁴⁵ A few days earlier, the commander of Louisbourg had again got all worked up about Île de France sending rice to Madagascar and that this was a trick by Maillart to give the impression that there was not enough of it in the settlement of Antongil Bay.⁴⁶ That Beňovský incessantly asked Île de France for goods and money while, at the same time, claiming to be independent, was particularly contradictory.⁴⁷ He referred to special instructions from Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, from which he liked to quote but which Maillart and Ternay never actually got to see.⁴⁸ When Maillart grew tired of the frequently bizarre demands⁴⁹ and fierce accusations and he accepted Beňovský’s independence and announced that in future, he would no longer supply him with anything, the commander of Mada-

 ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 91, fol. 1, Maillart to Sartine, 19 December 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 43, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 6 January 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 45, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 12 January 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 94, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 8 September 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 96, fol. 2, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 10 September 1774; C 5 A 5, no. 28, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 20 March 1775; C 5 A 5, no. 79, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 21 October 1775; MAE, Asie 4, no. 55, fols. 1– 4, Beňovsky´ to a “cher ami”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 28, fol. 2, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 20 March 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 78, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 20 October 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 107, fols. 1– 3, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 24 September 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 101, fol. 2, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 19 September 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 90, fol. 1, Ternay and Maillart to Sartine, 18 December 1775; C 5 A 5, no. 91, fol. 1, Maillart to Sartine, 19 December 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 64, Maillart to Sartine, 7 July 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 62, Maillart and Ternay to the Minister of the Navy, 17 June 1774.

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gascar saw his conspiracy theory confirmed.⁵⁰ Beňovský cultivated a rhetoric of self-sacrifice and devotion to his king and yet, at the same time, gave signals that suggested complete independence. A telling example of this is a conflict between Beňovský and Maillart over a black flag at the end of 1775 and into 1776. In a letter dated 30 December 1775, the commander of Madagascar complained to his civilian superior that in 1774, the latter had sent him a large quantity of black nankeen cloth in order to harm him. Beňovský alleged that Maillart’s aim had been to inflate artificially the cost of setting up in Madagascar so as to persuade the Minister of the Navy to abandon the expansion project.⁵¹ The intendant replied on 13 May 1776: I do not wish, Monsieur, to harm anyone, and the king’s service for me is no joke. I was told a long time ago that you thought the black flag made for Madagascar was such [a joke]. […] [I] remembered that we had had a written exchange about this matter. So, I have looked through the correspondence and found a letter from you dated 5 January 1774 in which you asked for this flag. I also have my reply of the 8th of the same month in which I tried to dissuade you from adopting a flag of that colour. I wrote to you that this colour could be mistaken for blue and that a fabric of that colour had never been chosen before, and that if you must have such a [flag], it should be made of nankeen cloth, which seemed to me a waste of money.⁵²

Maillart was uncomfortable with the fact that Beňovský had asked for a black flag for Madagascar, probably not only because of the high price of the fabric. The intendant points out that the colour black could be confused with blue, in other words, with the colour of the British navy. What Maillart does not say is that since the beginning of the eighteenth century, black had been the colour of pirates, who had founded veritable political entities in the region of Louis-

 ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 26, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 16 March 1775; ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 79, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 21 October 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 19, copy of a letter from Beňovsky´ to Maillart, Louisbourg, 30 December 1775; ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 54, Beňovsky´ to Maillart, 5 June 1776.  ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 45, fol. 2, Maillart to Beňovsky´, 2 June 1776: “je ne fais point du service du Roy une plaisanterie. On m’avoit dit il y a longtems que vous aviez regardé comme tel le pavillon noir qui a été fait pour Madagascar ; je ne pouvais le croire ; cependant à telle fin que de raison, pensant que vous auriez pû en écrire au Ministre, je me suis rappellé que l’affaire avoit été traitée par écrit entre vous et moi. Sur cela j’ai recherché vos lettres, et j’en ai trouvé du 5. Janvier 1774 par laquelle vous demandez ce pavillon ; J’ai trouvé aussi ma réponse du 8 du dit mois par laquelle je cherche à vous dissuader de le prendre de cette couleur qui se confond avec le bleu, vous observant aussi que jamais on n’a eu d’étamine de cette couleur pour pavillon, et que si vous le voulez absolument, il faudra le faire en nanquin ce qui me paroissoit d’ailleurs une dépense inutile.”

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bourg and had wreaked havoc from there.⁵³ The black flag, therefore, offered the greatest possible contrast to the white royal flag. Maillart may have feared that Beňovský was engaged in piracy. The episode with the black flag points to another contradiction in Beňovský’s discourse and symbolic actions, namely the tension between the commander’s self-fashioning as the king’s loyal servant and his presentation of himself as sovereign. The flag (pavilion) was the symbol par excellence of affiliation with the king’s dominion, as numerous phrases in Beňovský’s correspondence attest.⁵⁴ Thus, it was no small matter when Beňovský abandoned the white flag, chose a black flag for Madagascar and thus, symbolically, marked his independence or even lawlessness. At best, Maillart could take this as a “joke”. In summary, it may be said that Beňovský’s letters were pervaded by several contradictions. The commander reported tremendous successes and enormous misery; he spoke of expansion through gentleness and showed himself to be a great warrior; he demanded much support from Île de France and wished to be independent of it; he demonstrated zeal for the king and suggested his independence; he claimed that the settlement cost little and demanded large sums of money. How may the contradictions in Beňovský’s letters be explained? The commander of Madagascar was obviously confronted with the problem of plausibly explaining his urgent need of soldiers, weapons and food, while at the same time convincing the Minister of the Navy through success stories to support the project of colonising Madagascar in the long term. In this connection, his conspiracy theory fulfilled two functions. On the one hand, Beňovský wanted to show himself as a servant of the king who had sacrificed himself and to whom the state was greatly indebted. On the other hand, the accusations against his superiors were meant to explain his own failures and discredit in the eyes of the Versailles elites the administrators of Île de France, who were well aware of Beňovský’s lies. Even though the narrativisation of Maudave’s colonisation project in Beňovský’s letters was meant to prevent an emerging tension between ex-

 The Anglo-American pirates of the first half of the eighteenth century often chose as their symbol the Jolly Roger, the black flag with skull and crossbones; see Rediker, Marcus, “Under the Banner of King Death. The World of Anglo-American Pirates, 1716 – 1726”, in: The William and Mary Quarterly 38/2 (1981), 203 – 227.  “[R]éclamer le pavillon français”, in BnF, NAF no. 9381, fol. 19. Also see ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 78, fol. 1; C 5 A 8, no. 45; “vivre sous la protection de notre pavillon”: ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 6 6, fol. 7. Similarly in C 5 A 3, no. 63, fol. 3; “les ranger sous notre pavillon”, “les soumettre au pavillon”: ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 32, fol. 4; C 5 A 5, no. 26, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 16 March 1775. For a similar use of the term “pavillon”, see C 5 A 3, no. 47, fol. 10. One could also be an “ennemi du pavillon français”; see C 5 A 5, no. 76, fol. 1.

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plaining, negating and concealing, the commander of Louisbourg eventually did not succeed.

A George Washington in Madagascar Beňovský left Madagascar at the end of 1776 in a hurry to arrive in the mother country ahead of the devastating report of the commissioners Bellecombe and Chevreau. It was important for the commander to plead his case before the Minister of the Navy in view of the unflattering account of his activities in Madagascar. Over the years that followed, he tried to persuade the Versailles elite again and again to support his project of a monopolistic trading company for Madagascar. In this connection, he sent the Minister of the Navy a diary-like text which he entitled “Mémoire sur l’expédition de Madagascar”.⁵⁵ At the same time, he was preparing his memoirs for print and left his partner João Jacinto de Magalhães (Jean Hiacynthe de Magellan) with the task of having them published.⁵⁶ The above-mentioned diary made up almost the entire chapter on Madagascar in these printed memoirs. However, the two texts were not identical, and they will be considered one after the other in what follows. The “Mémoire sur l’expédition de Madagascar” plays a key role in Beňovský’s career as an impostor, because this text represented his first attempt at creating a coherent narrative of the history of the previous years. In the “Mémoire”, Beňovský described his experiences and actions in Madagascar day by day, thus giving the impression that he was following a diary. However, the absence of breaks and jumps in the narrative suggests that this text was written after Beňovský’s first Madagascar adventure and, more or less, in one go. The following aims to examine the extent to which, compared to the previous letters, this undertaking to create meaning was accompanied by a change in both self-representation and images of Madagascar. The “Mémoire” contains many basic motifs that Beňovský already had used in his letters; at the same time, there are many new details. For example, the commander of Louisbourg embellishes his conspiracy theory with a variety of

 Orłowski, Beniowski, 208.  Beňovsky´, Móric Ágost, Des Grafen Moritz August von Beniowski Reisen durch Sibirien und Kamtschatka ü ber Japan und China nach Europa. Nebst einem Auszuge seiner ü brigen Lebensgeschichte. Aus dem Englischen ü bersetzt, mit Anmerkungen von Johann Reinhold Forster, Professor der Naturgeschichte und Mineralogie in Halle, Mitglied der königlichen preußischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, mit Kupfern, Berlin 1790, preface by Johann Reinhold Forster.

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new accusations against the administrators of Île de France.⁵⁷ Through numerous stories and details, Beňovský accuses his own administrative staff of disorder, fornication, theft and conspiracy against him and the settlement.⁵⁸ A particularly sad role in the Mémoire is played by Des Assises, the intendant of Madagascar, whom he portrays as a perpetually intriguing agent of Maillart’s.⁵⁹ The traders whom Beňovský had maltreated do not get off scot-free either.⁶⁰ The numerous episodes of the subjugation and civilising of the Malagasy match the thrust of the letters and yet, they contain new details. In these passages, the Malagasy express their confidence in Beňovský, submit to the rule of the French king with cries of joy, settle down with him, give him troops⁶¹ and adopt the humane principles of the bearer of civilisation.⁶² An essential difference between the “Mémoire” and the letters was that in the genre of the diary, Beňovský had more freedom and space to stage his own feelings. More clearly than before, he presents himself as a suffering hero, though without lapsing into pathos. He mentions, for example, his grief at the death of his “only son Charles Maurice Louis Auguste Baron de Beniowszky” and of his friends, who all succumbed to the “diseases of the country”.⁶³ Beňovský shows himself filled with hope that the administrators of Île de France would fulfil his legitimate and necessary requests and then lets the reader feel his bitter disappointment. In several places the commander expresses great concern about the fate of the settlement.⁶⁴ Even though the basic tenor of the “Mémoire” is in accord with the content of Beňovský’s letters, there are clear shifts of emphasis in the narrative. This text much more so than the letters reports hostile activities on the part of the autochthones.⁶⁵ Here, Beňovský presents himself as a victim who is often treacherously attacked and thus forced again and again to wage war. Abandoned by everyone, he can only rely on his own steadfastness. The central motif of the “Mémoire”, and also of the published memoirs, is the honour of the nobleman and officer who sacrifices himself in the service of his lord, the king, and the common good, while remaining human. In the narrative, three instances that tell of the

        

ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 14, p. 31, 34– 37, Beňovsky´, “Mémoire sur l’expédition de Madagascar”. Ibid., 31, 36, 45, 48 f., 100, 103 f. Ibid., 51– 58, 68. Ibid., 41 f., 69 – 71. Ibid., 21, 27– 31, 35, 44– 47, 50, 62, 65, 76 f., 82, 89, 92, 110, 114– 116, 132, 139. Ibid., 44, 46 f., 58. Ibid., 31 f., 39 (“fils unique”; “maladies du pays”). Ibid., 63 (quotation). Also see 31 f., 37, 46, 59 – 61, 95 f., 103 f. Ibid., 24 f., 27, 39, 42, 44, 60 f., 75, 103 f.

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war demonstrate above all the honour of the commander. Each of these three campaigns is preceded by a period during which Beňovský ponders with a heavy heart the precariousness of his situation and expresses his bitterness at his betrayal by Île de France.⁶⁶ These difficult times underline all the more the heroism of the commander and his devotion to the king. Beňovský was careful to show off his courage and honour in the text. In one passage he puts it as follows: “All my strength rested solely in a dignified attitude and great courage.”⁶⁷ When his Malagasy allies refuse to help him build a fort for fear of the Sakalava or Des Assises, he looks at them with an “indignant expression” (“regard d’indignation”);⁶⁸ when he is threatened by the Zafirabe, he unblinkingly declares that he awaits them with impatience.⁶⁹ He moves into the midst of the enemy army with the greatest calm.⁷⁰ Beňovský also describes his conduct of warfare as following a code of honour. He avoids unnecessary bloodshed and shows clemency even during campaigns.⁷¹ When he besieges the Sakalava, he provides them with food and alcohol.⁷² The fact that he extends his dominion to a third of the island is, according to his story, as much the result of such benevolence as of his military skill. In the “Mémoire”, this honourable attitude is shared by the common soldiers, who, with the exception of a few traitors, form one homogeneously loyal, steadfast and anonymous mass. In contrast to this are the civilians, who are cowards one and all. Beňovský recounts how Des Assises allegedly fainted at the first shot and how his men jumped into the swamp.⁷³ His self-staging as an unselfish, honourable, gentle, just, resolute, steadfast, self-sacrificing and ultimately lonely and suffering hero matched the image that Beňovský had already painted in the narratives of his heroic deeds in Poland and the Russian Empire. In connection with Madagascar, gentleness was added as a new component. The adventurer from Upper Hungary combined the patriotic heroic discourse that was influential in the eighteenth century with Maudave’s images of Madagascar. He thus stylised himself as a kind of George Washington of the South Seas.⁷⁴  Ibid., 63 f. Also see 31 f., 59 – 61, 95 f., 103 f.  Ibid., 75: “Toutte [sic!] ma force se réduisait en bonne contenance et bon courage”.  Ibid., 55.  Ibid., 65. Also see 74.  Ibid., 78 – 80.  Ibid., 24 f., 46 f., 81, 89, 103.  Ibid., 86.  Ibid., 63.  For the new patriotic-republican heroic discourse of the second half of the eighteenth century and the image of George Washington, see Asch, Ronald G., Herbst des Helden. Modelle des Heroischen und heroische Lebensentwü rfe in England und Frankreich von den Religionskriegen bis

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A Lycurgus in Madagascar The more time passed, the more Beňovský tried to live his life according to the legends he had invented. During his first stay in Madagascar, he had created in his writings for the Versailles Ministry of the Navy a virtual parallel world which he brought to life once and for all in the “Mémoire”. Written for a large audience, he pushed the myth even further in his printed memoirs. During his second stay in Madagascar, Beňovský’s life was not only accompanied by fictional narratives but actually merged with them. He died in 1786 as ‘Ampansakabe’, the (self-proclaimed) King of Kings of Madagascar. While writing his memoirs in the early 1780s, Beňovský had invented the title ‘Ampansakabe’ and had adopted it.⁷⁵ After his return to France in the spring of 1777, the officer led an unsteady life. Although he had been rewarded in Versailles for his services on the Great Island, he remained without employment. Beňovský therefore resigned from the French service and received an audience with Emperor Joseph II, who appointed him a colonel. Dissatisfied with this rank, he tried his luck in America in 1779 – 1780, where he attempted unsuccessfully to be appointed general of the revolutionary armies. Beňovský travelled back to the Habsburg Empire in 1780, where he engaged in trade in Fiume (present-day Rijeka) and advised Joseph II and his chancellor Kaunitz on colonial policy issues. Due to a lack of money, Beňovský sought employment with the king of France and yet, in 1782, he travelled to North America again, where he did not find employment either. After a stay in the French colony of Saint-Domingue, he tried to persuade the governments in Paris, London and Vienna to colonise Madagascar. Though he did not succeed, he was able to enthuse traders and other private individuals in London and Baltimore for a Madagascar expedition in 1783.⁷⁶ In London he presented himself as the ruler of a sovereign state that placed itself under the protection of His Majesty the King of Great Britain.⁷⁷ His self-fashioning as Emperor of Madagascar certainly helped persuade financially strong members of the upper classes to invest in a trading company that would use his supposed power base in the north of the Great Island for the

zum Zeitalter der Aufklärung. Ein Essay, Wü rzburg 2016, 20, 126 – 133; Bell, David, The Cult of the Nation in France. Inventing Nationalism, 1680 – 1800, Cambridge 2003.  Orłowski, Beniowski, 207– 209. The administrators of Île de France, Souillac and Motais de Narbonne, informed the Minister of the Navy of this in their letter of 3 January 1786; see ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 204, Souillac and Motais de Narbonne to Castrie, 3 January 1786.  Orłowski, Beniowski, 162– 208.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 184, 185, 193; Orłowski, Beniowski, 208 f.

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slave trade.⁷⁸ Decisive for this success was his encounter with João Jacinto de Magalhães (Magellan),⁷⁹ a Portuguese natural philosopher and Fellow of the Royal Society, and the investments of several traders from Baltimore. Beňovský led everyone to believe that in Madagascar, he had at his command an administrative apparatus whose intendant was Mayeur.⁸⁰ On 25 October 1784, a ship with Beňovský and his associates, together with their wives and children – a total of 62 people –, left the port of Baltimore.⁸¹ After a difficult voyage, the ship reached the northwest of Madagascar in July 1785. Beňovský tried to settle there but was attacked by the troops of the Sakalava king of Boina.⁸² He was able to escape and to reach Angontsy, where, according to French sources, he attacked the small French trading station to obtain weapons, merchandise and provisions.⁸³ In the northeast of Antongil Bay, he probably allied himself with the local prince Lamboina (who had already entered into an alliance with Beňovský against the Sakalava some years earlier when Mayeur had visited him), and again enjoyed the protection of the Sambarivo. Beňovský began to build a village called Mauritania. He appeared before the Europeans as ‘Ampansakabe’.⁸⁴ Nevertheless, if one believes the instructions to his companion Quisquet, Beňovský, endeavoured to conclude a treaty with the French settlement of Mahavelona.⁸⁵ What is certain is that he finally tried to attack this settlement and that he threatened Iavy, the King of the Betsimisaraka, with severe consequences if he sold land to the French.⁸⁶ Provoked by the adven-

 ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 209, fol. 2, Souillac to Sartine, 22 August 1786; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 239, fol. 1, report by Paschke; Orłowski, Beniowski, 207– 215.  For Beňovský asking Magalhães to win the Portuguese government over to his plans, see ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 235, Beňovský to Magalhães, n.d.  For the contract between Beňovský and Zollickoffer and Messonier of 5 September 1784, see ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, nos. 190, 190 bis, 5 September 1784; Orłowski, Beniowski, 210 f.  Orłowski, Beniowski, 216.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 202, Souillac to Sartine, 28 December 1785; ANOM, C 5 A 8. bis, no. 239, fols. 1– 5, report by Paschke, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 203, fol. 1, Souillac and Motais to the Minister of the Navy, n.d. Ratsivalaka maintains that Beňovský managed to take over this trading post without violence: Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, 295 – 317.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 204, 205, letters from Souillac and Motais of January and February 1786; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 213, fols. 1, 4, Larcher de Vermand to Souillac, n.d.; memorandum by Lasalle: ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 97, fol. 1, 1796. Also see Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, 286 – 295.  ANOM, E 334, personnel file of François Quisquet, copy of Beňovsky´’s instructions for Quisquet, 15 November 1785.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 205, Souillac to the Minister of the Navy, 12 February 1786 as well as no. 209, fol. 3, Souillac to the Minister of the Navy, 22 August 1786.

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turer, the administrators of Île de France sent an expeditionary force to attack Mauritania. Beňovský died weapon in hand.⁸⁷ The archive of the Ministry of the Navy preserves copies of documents that were to support Beňovský’s claim to a kind of emperorship of Madagascar. Beňovský did not send these letters and the allegedly legally-binding documents to the Versailles headquarters himself. They were probably found after his death among his papers and copied for the Ministry of the Navy.⁸⁸ Among them are two copies of an oath of the kings, princes and “chiefs” of Madagascar, by whom Beňovský was recognised as ‘Ampansakabe’,⁸⁹ the minutes of an alleged council meeting of the “Malagasy chiefs”⁹⁰ as well as several letters in which the new ‘Ampansakabe’ appoints his associates as dignitaries and regulates trade relations.⁹¹ Also preserved is a letter from his “secretary”, the Baron von Adelsheim, which reveals that the ‘Ampansakabe’ had sought an alliance with Great Britain against the French.⁹² What prompted Beňovský to assume the role of ‘Ampansakabe’? It all began with him taking up yet again one of Maudave’s motifs and developing it into a narrative.⁹³ One learns from the notes on Maudave’s diary by the botanist Commerson that the southern Malagasy apparently took the governor of Fort-Dauphin not for a Frenchman, but for the “son of a powerful chief from the north [of Madagascar]” who had been educated in France.⁹⁴ Moreover, Beňovský had apparently learned from Flacourt, or from Maudave’s reception of Flacourt’s writings, about the Roandriana and Zafiraminia in Anosy as well as about Raminia, the founder of the Anosy dynasty. All this information inspired Beňovský after his first visit to Madagascar when he wrote his memoirs. He claimed that an “old black woman called Susanne”, who had been sold fifty years earlier to Frenchmen on Île de France and had returned with him to Madagascar, had circulated a rumour early in 1775 that Beňovský was the son of a daughter of “Rohandrian-Ampansakabe-Ramini-Larizon”, sold into slavery to foreigners.

 ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 213, fol. 4, Larcher de Vermand to Souillac, n.d.; for memorandum by Lasalle, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 97, fol. 5 f., 1796.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 209, fol. 3, Souillac to the Minister of the Navy, 22 August 1786.  ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 11, “Acte du serment des rois, princes et chefs de Madagascar”, n.d.; C 5 A 8 bis, no. 234, oath of the Malagasy princes at Beňovský‘s election as ‘Ampansakabe’, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 23, “Copie du procès-verbal de l’assemblée des chefs malgaches, décidant de conclure des traités d’amitié avec d’autres princes que le roi de France”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 188, 197, 198.  MAE, Indes Orientales 18, no. 123, Henri de Adelsheim to an unknown person, 6 January 1786.  Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 69.  MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 51: “fils d’un puissant chef du nord”.

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That made Beňovský the grandson of Raminia, the founder of the Zafiraminia dynasty.⁹⁵ The people of the “Sambarives” thereupon had called an assembly to declare the man from Upper Hungary the heir of Raminia, that is lord of the province of “Mananhar” and “Ampansakabe or head of the nation, a title that had not been conferred since the death of the Ramini-Larizon”.⁹⁶ In the printed memoirs, this episode surprisingly does not play a role anymore in the narrative of the events of the following year and a half. Here, Beňovský substantially reproduces the content of the mémoire he had written for the Ministry of the Navy, that is he fought involuntarily first against the Zafirabe, then against the Sakalava of Boina, was victorious and yet treated all peoples with the greatest gentleness. At the same time, there are important and striking differences regarding some details between the two narratives. In the published memoirs, any incidents that show the weaknesses of the settlement are suppressed, be they destructive hurricanes, diseases, deaths including that of his supposed enemy Des Assises, and even the existence of a hospital. The aid provided by Île de France is drastically reduced in the printed text, whereas the size of the defeated enemy troops and the number of allies are greatly increased, often by a factor of ten.⁹⁷ More significant still is the fact that in his memoirs, Beňovský concludes treaties not in the name of the French king but in his own name, as if he were sovereign. In the published version, he shows himself proud and aggressive towards the inspectors Bellecombe and Chevreau. He refuses to obey their orders and eventually resigns from the service.⁹⁸ Beňovský emphasises in the printed text that “the work of civilising” the Malagasy could only be achieved by a man who, by his conduct, virtue and justice, would win the trust of the natives.⁹⁹ His narrative demonstrates that he was this man who, entirely on his own and despite all the obstacles that the French had thrown at him, had brought about a revolution in the Indian Ocean. The end of the published memoirs differs even more markedly from the text of the manuscript “Mémoire”. Beňovský not only gives an account of the intrigues of Île de France but adds a second conflict to the narrative, namely that the French government in Versailles had been in favour of a violent subjugation of the island

 Beňovský, “Mémoires”, 308. Both Raminia and the title “Roandriana” were unknown in the region of Antongil Bay.  Beňovsky´, “Mémoires”, 308 f.: “Ampansacabe ou chef suprême de la nation; titre qui, depuis la mort de Ramini-Larizon, étoit éteint.”  For the numerous changes in the numerical data, see Vacher, Contribution à l’histoire de l’établissement français, 17– 20.  Ibid., 14– 23.  Beňovsky´, “Mémoires”, 369: “l’ouvrage de leur civilisation”.

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and was angry when the commander disobeyed.¹⁰⁰ Blinded by the ambition and lies of the administrators of Île de France, Versailles had sent the commissioners Bellecombe and Chevreau to Madagascar in order to arrest Beňovský and bring him to France, where he was to be tried. But when this news reached the Great Island, the Malagasy according to Beňovský reacted in a surprising way. In August 1776, the princes of the north, together with 1,200 men in marching formation with drums beating and with the flags given to them by Beňovský, advanced to the fort of the “Plaine de la Santé”, where the hero was staying. Allegedly, they told him that at a solemn assembly, they had decided to reveal to him the “secret of [his] birth”, propound to him his rights of inheritance over “this vast region, whose people worship [him]” and to ask him to accept the honour of ‘Ampansakabe’.¹⁰¹ Thereupon the French officers rushed to his side and told him that they would sooner sacrifice their lives than see him arrested. From now on, they were no longer French officers, Beňovský claims, but men personally devoted to him.¹⁰² At a solemn assembly the following day, Beňovský yielded to the request of the Malagasy and declared that he wanted to work “with the princes, chiefs and captains of the nation” on the “great work of civilisation”.¹⁰³ He promised them wise laws, immortal glory and prosperity upon which they all took the blood oath. After the homage paid by the troops, 1,200 women and girls had come to him in the evening to congratulate him and to dance before him.¹⁰⁴ Beňovský then describes briefly, and without comment, the visit of the commissioners.¹⁰⁵ He resigns from the service but, after the departure of Bellecombe and Chevreau, is forced by the pleas of the natives and the French officers to take command of Madagascar again.¹⁰⁶ Because Beňovský would like to sail to France in order to secure the goodwill of the French king, the Malagasy princes ask him to swear that he will return and rule over them.¹⁰⁷ Again and again they weep for fear of losing their “father”.¹⁰⁸ In October 1776 still bigger ceremonies and celebrations take place. Dressed in “Indian” fashion, Beňovský walks through “a long guard of honour of natives” who shout loudly and call out to their supreme  Ibid., 440 f.  Ibid., 417– 419: “te révéler le secret de ta naissance et tes droits sur cette immense contrée, dont tout le peuple t’adore”.  Ibid., 421 f.  Ibid., 424: “dans l’espoir que les princes, chefs et capitaines de la nation m’assisteroient toujours dans la grande entreprise de la civilisation”.  Ibid., 424– 429.  Ibid., 434– 438.  Ibid., 437– 440.  Ibid., 442.  Ibid., 444.

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god “Zahanhar” (Zanahary).¹⁰⁹ After Beňovský has explained to them over three days his “proposals for the establishment of a perpetual government”, the day of the grand ceremony arrives. The adventurer, now mutated into an “Indian” – that is a Malagasy – presents it as solemnly as possible: At last the 10th [October 1776, D. T.] came and I was startled by a triple cannon volley. At six o’clock in the morning, chief Raffangour came with six other [princes, D. T.]; all were dressed in white, threw themselves at my feet and asked for permission to address me. I received them in my tent and was also dressed in white. […] [Raffangour] then asked me to follow him and we went to the plain into a circle formed by 30,000 armed men. Each chief stood before his tribe; […] they formed the first circle.¹¹⁰

Chief Raffangour thereupon delivers a solemn speech: Blessed be [the god] Zahanhar who has returned to his people! Blessed be the blood of Raminia, to whom we owe our love! […] In the long period during which we were deprived of the rule of a chief of the blood of Raminia, we lived like wild animals; sometimes we massacred our brothers, sometimes they killed us. Weakened and divided we were the victim of the stronger, we were wicked and deaf to the voice of justice. […] Listen to my voice, Rohandrians, Anacandrians, Voadziri, Lohavohites, Philoubey, Ondzatsi, Ambiasses, Ampouria; this is the law of your fathers: acknowledge the Ampansakabe, submit, follow his laws and you will be happy!¹¹¹

Raffangour presents Beňovský with a spear as royal insignia, and 50,000 men kneel before the new ‘Ampansakabe’.¹¹² Beňovský replied that he recognised

 Ibid., 444 f.: “je quittai l’habit françois, je pris celui d’un indien […]. Il me fallut passer à travers une longue haie des naturels […].”  Ibid., 445 f.: “Enfin le 10 arriva, et je fus effrayé par une triple décharge de canons. A six heures du matin, le chef Raffangour avec six autres, tous habillés de blanc, vinrent se jetter à mes pieds, et demandèrent la permission de me parler. Je les reçus dans ma tente, habillé de blanc comme eux. […] Ensuite, il me pria de le suivre, et nous sortîmes du camp pour aller dans la plaine où nous entrâmes dans un cercle formé par une assemblée de trente mille hommes armés. Les chefs étant chacun à la tête de leur tribu, […] ils formèrent bientôt le premier cercle autour de nous”.  Ibid., 446 f.: “Béni soit Zahanhar, qui est revenu voir son peuple! Béni soit le sang de Ramini, à qui notre attachement est dû! […] Depuis le long espace de tems que nous avons été privés d’un chef de la race sacrée de Ramini, nous avons vécu comme des bêtes féroces, tantôt massacrant nos frères, tantôt périssant sous leurs coups; affoiblis par notre désunion, nous avons toujours été la proie du plus fort; nous avons été méchans et sourds à la voix de la justice et de l’équité. […] Écoutez ma voix, Rohandrians, Anacandrians, Voadziri, Lohavohites, Philoubey, Ondzatsi, Ambiasses, Ampouria; c’est la loi du sang de nos pères. Reconnoissez l’Ampansacabe, soumettez-vous à lui, écoutez sa voix, suivez les loix qu’il vous donnera, et vous serez heureux.”  Ibid., 448.

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the blessings of heaven which had brought him to the land of his ancestors and he addresses the different tribes of the “Rohandrians”, “Voadziri”, “Lohavites”, “Ampouria”, “Ondzatsi” and “Ambiasses”.¹¹³ As each of these groups has gathered individually, Beňovský swears a blood oath before each of them and sacrifices cattle.¹¹⁴ In the evening, the women come to Beňovský’s wife and take an oath “dancing in the moonlight […]”.¹¹⁵ The following day, the ‘Ampansakabe’ introduces new state institutions. He creates a “Supreme Council” of “Indians” and Frenchmen, a “Perpetual Council” as an executive, provincial councils and an army.¹¹⁶ He also founds a city called “Mauritania” in the interior of the country. Finally, he vows to return soon to Madagascar from France, and the people bid him a tearful farewell.¹¹⁷ Not only the Malagasy, but also Beňovský feels “everything that a human heart is capable of suffering when torn from beloved company”.¹¹⁸ The heart of the narrative is the staging of the Malagasy’s exit from the state of nature. Beňovský employs a myth that flowered variously in the eighteenth century, that of the creation of a commonwealth through the social contract. His narrative is influenced by Rousseau’s description of the “second state of nature”. Accordingly, the Malagasy were no longer innocent, they knew social hierarchies and ownership and lived in a kind of anarchy where the law of the strongest prevailed. Now, they had recognised the inhumanity of their situation and appointed a Lycurgus, a figure that positively fascinated Rousseau, the philosopher from Geneva.¹¹⁹ The commander of Louisbourg thus emphasised that he was ruling by the will of the people and pretended, among other things, to have abolished the slave trade.¹²⁰ In the printed memoirs, Beňovský completed the textual enterprise which he had begun with his letters. He wrote an enlightened and sentimental adventure novel, which contains several elements of a Robinsonade: the effort to suggest reality by quoting from supposed documents or by naming concrete objects, events and names; loneliness and abandonment on a remote island; the central place that the hero’s hardships and sufferings occupy in the narration; the construction of civilisation by a single man. Robinsonades, like Beňovský’s narrative, were also char-

       

Ibid., 449. Ibid., 450. Ibid., 451: “Cette cérémonie eut lieu au clair de la lune, et le serment fut fait en dansant.” Ibid., 454– 461: “conseil suprême”, “conseil permanent”, “conseils provinciaux”. Ibid., 461– 464. Ibid., 464. Leduc-Fayette, Denise, Jean-Jacques Rousseau et le mythe de l’antiquité, Paris 1974, 71– 101. Beňovsky´, “Mémoires”, 456.

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acterised by imperial and male fantasies.¹²¹ Even if one cannot identify a precise model for Beňovský’s narrative, his memoirs contributed to an important literary movement of his time which blurred the boundaries between fiction and experiential report.¹²² The discursive shifts between the “Mémoire” and the published memoirs are largely due to the change of addressee. The “Mémoire sur l’expédition de Madagascar” was a piece of writing for the Ministry of the Navy, and Beňovský never tried to make the ministry officials believe the story of his election as ‘Ampansakabe’. He had enough sense of reality not to act the part of an emperor at Versailles.¹²³ In this communication context, it was also important for him to present himself as a loyal servant of the French king. Only on his return to Madagascar did he assume his new identity for the French living on Île de France. Even at this time, that is mid-December 1785 and again on 26 March 1786, did he write letters to Vergennes, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, in which he did not say a word about his alleged rule over the Great Island.¹²⁴ The narrative about his election as ‘Ampansakabe’ was not addressed to the French colonial politicians but initially to their British counterparts. As the former intendant of Île de France noted, it was apparently Beňovský’s plan to follow in the footsteps of Theodor von Neuhoff who, with British help, had become “King of Corsica”.¹²⁵ When Beňovský failed to obtain the support of the London government for the establishment of a monopolistic trading company, he used the narrative of his election as emperor of Madagascar to persuade private individuals to invest in a trading company. The publication of his memoirs was intended to turn him into a living myth. It was only after his death that he succeeded in doing so, but his achievement in terms of narrativisation helped to establish the colonialist imaginary invented by Maudave.

 The pronounced tendency of adventure novels to depict imperial and male fantasies is emphasised in Philipps, Richard, Mapping Men and Empire. A Geography of Adventure, London 1997; Fougère, Les Voyages et l’Ancrage.  Green, Martin, The Robinson Crusoe Story, University Park 1990; Pohlmann, Inga, Robinsons Erben. Zum Paradigmenwechsel in der französischen Robinsonade, Konstanz 1991; Blaim, Arthur, Failed Dynamics. The English Robinsonade of the Eighteenth Century, Lublin 1987; Philipps, Mapping Men and Empire, introduction and first chapter; Fougère, Les Voyages et l’Ancrage, especially 51– 61 and 190 – 198.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 180, 192, 225.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 201, Beňovsky´ to Vergennes, 15 December 1786; MAE, Indes orientales 18, fol. 240, Beňovsky´ to Vergennes, 26 March 1786.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 184, Dumas to Vergennes, 16 November 1783.

7 Persistence and the End of the Dream of Madagascar In 1800 Daniel Lescallier, a Councillor of State (conseiller d’État) and former head of the colonial department at the Ministry of the Navy, presented to First Consul Napoléon Bonaparte his deliberations on the correct Madagascar policy. According to Lescallier, previous French governments had always acted recklessly and without carefully-considered principles. Although again and again, they had tried to establish settlements, the supporters of these companies always sought only profit and had the interests of the Europeans and, above all, their own advantage in mind, never the welfare of the indigenous people. Some of those sent by the ministry were even indecent adventurers who committed a thousand atrocities in this country. If this is how one treated people, one need not be surprised if one earns resentment from them, even if, as in Madagascar, they are among the gentlest and most sociable [people] in the world.¹

According to Lescallier, it would suffice to send to the Great Island a few Europeans under the leadership of a morally exemplary man, and the Malagasy would become civilised and live happily under the French flag.² At the end of 1818, the commercial agent (agent commercial) in Madagascar, Sylvain Roux, had a radically different opinion of the Malagasy. According to him, it was futile, despite what our publicists and modern philosophes claim, to get [the Malagasy] to do anything useful for us. If, over a long period of time, they see how we work and succeed, then maybe some will try to imitate us. But only time can perform this miracle. I have had many opportunities to meet Malagasy people, and I have tried to persuade them to adopt some of our simplest techniques (arts), but I did not even succeed in convincing them that they might benefit from them.³

 “Les promoteurs de ces entreprises se sont toujours trop uniquement occupés du gain et de l’intérêt des Européens, et sur-tout [sic!] de leurs profits personnels, et jamais du bien-être des indigènes. Quelques-uns des délégués du ministère ont même été des aventuriers malhonnêtes, qui ont commis dans le pays mille atrocités. En traitant ainsi l’humanité, il n’est pas étonnant que quelquefois on ait éprouvé des marques de ressentiment de la part de ces peuples, qui cependant sont naturellement les plus doux et les plus sociables de la terre.” Lescallier, Daniel, “Mémoire relatif à l’île de Madagascar, 1801”, printed as an appendix in Valette, Jean, “Lescallier et Madagascar”, in: Bulletin de Madagascar 243 (1966), 877– 897, 880.  Ibid., 893.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Observations faites par l’agent commercial de Madagascar dans l’exploration de la côte orientale de cette île, ordonnée par son excellence le mihttps://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-009

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Roux saw the project of civilising the Malagasy as a dream of philosophers far removed from reality. Though he, too, sought to establish colonies on the Great Island, his project was not a continuation of Maudave’s. Instead, the commercial agent pleaded for the segregation of the French and the Malagasy and thus ushered in a new era in the history of French colonialism in the southwest of the Indian Ocean. It seems that between 1800 and 1818, much had changed in the perceptions of Madagascar. This chapter looks at the French-Malagasy encounters and the French plans for Madagascar from the 1780s to the late 1810s. It traces the persistence of Maudave’s ideas but also the pluralisation of approaches and the decline of the late Enlightenment dream of Madagascar.

A Malagasy-French “Republic” After Beňovský’s return to Europe, the French settlements on the Great Island continued to give little cause for celebration. Louisbourg vegetated until its dissolution in the mid-1780s. Many soldiers and officers continued to die of tropical diseases, and there was still no money to pay the troops. Admittedly, Sanglier, the new commander, had abandoned Beňovský’s policy of conquest and tried to establish good relations with the princes in the neighbourhood. By giving them abundant gifts, he had reached his goal. But he was hardly able to alleviate the misery of the French. In June 1777, the volunteers mutinied.⁴ In addition, the Betsimisaraka kingdom continued to be shaken by fierce conflicts. La Bigorne’s (foster) son Diard (Diart) had followed in his father’s footsteps and, in the early 1780s, had played an important role in the disputes as an administrative clerk in Mahavelona. According to Souillac and Chevreau, the administrators of the Mascarenes, Diard was an orphan brought up by La Bigorne and his wife Fanchon on the Great Island. However, it is well possible that Diard

nistre de la marine, et exécutée à bord des flutes de Sa majesté Le Golo et le Lys en septembre, octobre, novembre et décembre 1818” (quotation p. 30 f.): “Il est inutile, malgré tout ce qu’en disent nos publicistes et nos philosophes modernes, de rien gagner sur ces peuples, pour les faire servir à notre besoin. Peut-être qu’à force de nous voir travailler et réussir dans nos entreprises quelqu’uns deux [sic] chercheront à nous imiter; mais c’est au tems [sic!] seul à opérer cette merveille: j’ai eu l’occasion de beaucoup frequenter les malgaches, j’ai cherché à leur faire adopter quelqu’uns de nos arts les plus communs, jamais je n’ai pu parvenir à leur faire même convenir, qu’ils y trouvaient de l’avantage.”  See the documents on the settlement under Sanglier in ANOM, C 5 A 8, C 5 A 8 bis and C 5 A 9. For the revolt of the soldiers, see C 5 A 8, nos. 51, 57, 58, 64, 76, 89, 91, 125.

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was the biological son of La Bigorne and Fanchon. The latter hypothesis is supported by the statements of the Paris police that Diard had “olive-coloured” skin (“teint olivâtre”).⁵ After La Bigorne’s death (1772), Diard is said to have roamed Madagascar “naked” like the “blacks” for several years.⁶ According to the report of the intendant and the governor of Île de France, Iavy took in the young Diard as a servant and employed him as a cowhand. But Diard allegedly left Mahavelona to settle in Toamasina, where he stole from Prince Dianancore. The latter had him arrested and taken to the French settlement of Mahavelona, where Diard was then employed as an interpreter but now deprived the French king of his goods and chattels. In order to get rid of him, the French trade clerk apparently sent him to Beňovský’s settlement in Antongil Bay, out of which, however, the commander also chased him. Diard sailed back to Île de France, but soon managed to be employed again as an interpreter in Madagascar – no doubt due to the great demand for personnel with knowledge of the Malagasy language. Diard’s main task was to coordinate the development of wheat plantations. It was in this connection that he arrived with the intendant Coquereau and the trader Boucher in Mahavelona Bay on 7 February 1781.⁷ The opportunity of appearing both as a member of the French administration and as a Malagasy provided Diard with the possibility of playing an important political role in the kingdom of the Betsimisaraka. Diard tried to profit from conflicts among the Betsimisaraka elites. The authority of King Iavy was contested: eleven local nobles, among them two uncles and one of Iavy’s cousins, had declared their independence from the king in the 1770s. In this they enjoyed the support of D’Houdetot and Coquereau who, after Beňovský’s return to France, administered the French settlements in Madagascar and, in 1780, proclaimed a new commonwealth, the “Republic of Marahombay” (“République de Marahombay”). Since Diard was one of the few Frenchmen who spoke Malagasy, he conducted the negotiations while his superiors had little opportunity to check what he was promising the “republicans”. The “dissidents” allied themselves with the Fariava, the traditional enemies of the Betsimisaraka kings. Iavy had just made peace with the Fariava when the inspectors, Bellecombe and Chevreau, arrived

 ANOM, E 133 (Diard), police inspector Lenoir to the Minister of the Navy, 20 January 1784, as well as ANOM, E 133 (Diard), fol. 8, Copie du mémoire justificatif de la conduite de Diard présenté à MM. les chefs de l’isle de France le 25 septembre 1781, 25 September 1781. Diard always referred to La Bigorne and Fanchon as his father” and “mother”.  ANOM, E 133, personnel file of Diard, Souillac and Chevreau to the Minister of the Navy, 22 November 1782.  Ibid. For Diard, also see Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, vol. 1, 247– 253.

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in October 1776.⁸ Savournin, to whom Beňovský had granted a monopoly of trade on the coast south of Foulpointe where the Fariava lived, probably supported the “republicans” or, at least, sold gunpowder to all parties in the conflict.⁹ War erupted in February 1781, after all French ships had left the port of Mahavelona. D’Houdetot and Coquereau were not in Foulpointe at this time, and Diard was in command. It seems that he played a leading role in the military conflict. According to the administrators of the Mascarenes, Diard had succeeded La Bigorne and allied himself with the latter’s friend, with the aim of overthrowing Iavy. To this end, the Frenchman supposedly armed Iavy’s opponents and endeavoured to expel the king in order to rule over Mahavelona himself. Subsequently, Iavy had removed his people from Mahavelona and awaited the arrival of intendant Coquereau and trade commissioner Boucher. The latter, who was responsible for the royal trade with Mahavelona, was the first to arrive and levelled “the most severe reproaches” (“les plus vives reproches”) at Diard, who, in tears, shifted the blame onto his mother Fanchon. Boucher brought Iavy to Foulpointe and restored the former good relations with the king by paying a heavy fine. Faced with this changed political situation, the eleven “republicans” and Diard, along with his mother Fanchon, fled to the Fariava. There, Diard assumed a Malagasy identity, took the name “Tompe Magnarive”, got rid of his French clothing and attacked Iavy. Coquereau returned to Mahavelona in July 1781 and managed to have Diard delivered to him in shackles. Iavy’s eleven opponents were beheaded, their followers enslaved, and the Fariava village where they had found shelter burnt to the ground.¹⁰ After his arrest, Diard claimed that in supporting the “Republic of Marahombay”, he was only following Coquereau’s political line, i. e. he was serving France. However, the administrators of the Mascarenes did not believe him. They sent him to France in fetters so as to be sure that he was imprisoned far away from Madagascar. However, the Minister of the Navy was not allowed to keep Diard in prison without a trial, and he released him in 1783. Thereafter, Diard hid from the police in Paris until in 1784, his trail was lost.¹¹

 ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fols. 12, 16 f., diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau, 1776. Also see Chapter 5.  ANOM, E 133, personnel file of Diard, fol. 3, “Copie du mémoire justificatif de la conduit de Diard”.  ANOM, E 133, personnel file of Diard, Souillac and Chevreau to the Minister of the Navy, 22 November 1782.  See the notes of the clerk of the Minister of the Navy as well as the letters of Diard and of Police Inspector Lenoir to the Minister in ANOM, E 133, Diard’s personnel file.

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Maudave’s Vision during the Revolution These sad events did not play any role in the writings about Madagascar even though they provide major insights into the French-Malagasy world of the late eighteenth century. Instead of accepting the complexity of politics in Madagascar, French texts of this period usually still conveyed Maudave’s ideas. Of great importance for the further transmission of Maudave’s and Beňovský’s imaginary at the end of the eighteenth century was the figure of Daniel Lescallier. Lescallier was one of the three commissioners for the settlements beyond the Cape of Good Hope, appointed by the Legislative Assembly in 1791 and sent to the East Indies in 1792. On his way to South Asia, he visited Île de France and Madagascar, where he stayed in Mahavelona from 21 to 29 August 1792.¹² Even before his departure from France, Lescallier had become convinced that in Madagascar, “very large resources” (“très grandes ressources”) could be obtained for the Mascarenes; not only breeding animals, but also leather, ropes and sailors. In addition, “different plantations” (“différentes exploitations”) could be established to train the natives in agricultural work and encourage them to cultivate the land.¹³ Upon arriving on Île de France, Lescallier set about creating plantations in Madagascar. He immediately asked the inhabitants of Île de France, probably Maudave’s neighbour and friend Charpentier de Cossigny, for information about the Great Island. The result of this strategy was that Lescallier adopted Maudavian topoi and expectations. According to the commissioner, anybody who knew Madagascar was convinced of the beauty and fertility of the island, the abundance of its resources, as well as the friendly inclination of the locals towards the French. The reports about the vices of the Malagasy were not to be trusted, for they were probably dictated by their authors’ greed. In fact, the Europeans had taken advantage of the “simplicity” (“simplicité”) of the indigenous peoples and had demanded tributes from them. If one broke with the “destructive system” (“système dévastateur”) of the French traders who supported the natives in their wars in order to supply themselves with slaves, one could expect “infinitely much” from Madagascar.¹⁴ Lescallier assumed that due to their

 Valette, “Lescallier à Madagascar”, 877 f.; Sylla, “Un Envoyé de l’Assemblée nationale”, here 63; Sylla, Yvette, “La Côte orientale de Madagascar et la Révolution française. Une situation paradoxale et imaginaire”, in: Claude Wanquet/Benoît Jullien (eds.), Révolution française et océan Indien, Paris 1996, 181– 188.  ANOM, C 4 105, fol. 40, note of a clerk on the proposals of Leboucher and Lescallier, 3 November 1791.  ANOM, C 4 107, fols. 118 – 120, Lescallier to the Minister of the Navy, 13 August 1792.

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civilisational superiority, the “whites” exercised a “natural authority” (“ascendant naturel”) over the supposedly more primitive Malagasy.¹⁵ Therefore, he thought that “this line of action, if followed exactly, may bring us the conquest of the whole island by friendship and affection, as it were”.¹⁶ Based on these new-found convictions, Lescallier supported Didier and Gosse’s plan to move to the Great Island and establish plantations there. Didier and Gosse were former employees of the Guyana Company who had raised money from Parisian investors to establish agricultural enterprises in Madagascar. Their plan was to buy a plot of land from a king and employ local labour to work in grain, cotton and indigo fields as well as in livestock and logging. They explicitly wanted to do without slave labour. Lescallier lobbied the governor and the intendant of the Mascarenes for the project, and Didier and Gosse received the support for which they had hoped.¹⁷ Lescallier also officially commissioned Gosse to explore the Red Island with a view to later colonisation and, to this end, make friends with local village chiefs.¹⁸ Unfortunately, the archival sources do not reveal what the outcome of Didier’s project was. A proposal to establish plantations in Madagascar by a commissioner named Tirol from Île de la Réunion is extant from July 1794. As it does not mention Didier’s project, it can be assumed that since 1792, no agricultural settlement worth mentioning had been established.¹⁹ Having arrived in Mahavelona, Lescallier strove to take an oath of friendship with Zakavola, the new king of the Betsimisaraka. The king received the Commissioner of the National Assembly with the French tricolour. He was seated on a pedestal and wore clothes that the French had given to his father Iavy. Lescallier interpreted this display as a sign that Zakavola considered himself not only a friend, but a vassal of France. But his account of his audience with Zakavalo paints a different picture. Asked if he was a subject of France, the king was visibly reticent. He affirmed that his ancestors had always held the French in high esteem. Even when they were “maltreated” by “several whites who pretended to  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 233 512, transcripts of letters and documents of Lescallier, 24– 26: “Instructions pour M. Gosse”, n.d., 25.  See the transcript of a letter from Lescallier to the Minister of the Navy in ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 233 512, transcripts of Lescallier’s letters and documents, p. 29, Lescallier to the Minister of the Navy, St. Anne, Seychelles, 7 September 1792: “le plan de conduite, qui peut nous faire conquerir pour ainsi dire par amitié et affection toute cette Isle”.  ANOM, C 4 107, p. 118, 121 f. Also see Séries géographiques, MAD 233 512, transcripts of Lescallier’s letters and documents, 23 f., Lescallier to Hir, 27 April 1792.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 233 512, transcripts of letters and documents of Lescallier, 24– 26, “Instructions pour Gosse”, n.d.  ANOM, C 4 109, fol. 132, “4 thermidor An 2. Rapport au comité de [?]”, 22 July 1794.

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be French”, they were content to arrest the troublemakers and hand them over to the head of the French administration. This was a direct reference to the attempted coup by Betia, which Desroches and La Bigorne had supported, as well as Diard’s machinations. Zakavola asserted that he would continue to abide by this old rule. Lescallier replied that even if some individuals had behaved badly, this had never been the intention of the French nation, and he asked the king to continue to treat the French with respect. The two arranged an assembly of the nobility the following day to regulate their coexistence and renew the friendship between the French and the Betsimisaraka. Finally, Lescallier presented the king with some gifts.²⁰ Though the king was absent, the assembly took place within the French palisade the following day. Lescallier spoke first, and he reiterated that the French had only good intentions towards the Betsimisaraka. Zakavola’s “chief minister” (“principal ministre”) expressed his satisfaction on behalf of the absent king and his intention to continue to live on good terms with the French. However, he reiterated that certain Frenchmen like La Bigorne and Diard had harmed the ancestors of the reigning king, and it should be regarded as a special sign of their goodwill towards the nation as a whole that the Betsimisaraka did not kill these Frenchmen. Finally, Zakavola’s adviser asked for a symbol that would enable new French arrivals to the region to distinguish the king of the Betsimisaraka from his subjects and pay him due homage.²¹ As an interim solution, Lescallier presented him a “ribbon in French national colours with a six-livres-coin” (“un ruban national avec un écu de six livres”) and promised to get Zakavola a medal.²² All in all, the assembly went smoothly. Yet at the end, there seem to have been minor upsets, because Lescallier refused to swear the blood oath and drink fetish. Zakavola’s minister conceded but insisted that otherwise, the ritual had to follow Malagasy traditions in order for the oath to have legal force, and he managed to assert himself in this demand.²³ Lescallier’s descriptions of the audience and the assembly show the ambiguities in the relations between France and the kingdom of the Betsimisaraka. Even though the latter did display the French national symbols, it is far from certain that this amounted to a recognition that it was a French protectorate, as Lescallier believed. The promises of the king and his chief minister, who did not hide

 ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 233 512, transcripts of letters and documents of Lescallier, p. 1– 3, “Procès verbal des opérations faites à Madagascar par Mr. Lescallier”: “maltraités par plusieurs blancs qui se disaient français”.  Ibid., 4– 6.  Ibid., 14.  Ibid., 12– 14.

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their anger at the attempted overthrows of the 1770s and 1780s, was more like a recognition of equality between partners. The king merely recognised that Frenchmen should continue to be judged by Frenchmen and according to French law. Moreover, the king was absent from the decisive oath ceremony, which significantly weakened the binding force of the oath. In view of this, the “Regulations for Madagascar” which the commissioner subsequently issued are all the more astonishing. In this document, Lescallier acted as if he had created a protectorate and that the country was now open for colonisation. Lescallier was not concerned with enforcing French law; rather, the French and the Betsimisaraka were to be judged according to their respective laws, and conflicts between the two nations negotiated between the authorities. However, he expressly considered the province to be under French protection and he ordered that everything possible be done to help French colonists settle in the region.²⁴ In a letter to the Minister of the Navy, Lescallier also claimed that by flying the French flag, Zakavola had showed that the Betsimisaraka had placed themselves under the “immediate protection” of France and that their province was, “as it were, a French dependency”.²⁵ Moreover, he praised the “excellent character” of the Malagasy and boasted to have put an end to the “barbaric custom” of blood oaths.²⁶ Lescallier’s letters reveal an abyss between the banality of his actions and his plans and aspirations. The envoy of the National Assembly had not achieved anything with the king of the Betsimisaraka that was not already established custom. For trade, this confirmation of the previous order was crucial, but it did not open up a new chapter in the history of the French on the Great Island. There could be no question of an acceptance of French colonisation on the part of the Betsimisaraka or of the establishment of a French protectorate. This chasm between claim and reality appears even wider when one considers the conflict-ridden political situation in the Mahavelona region in the early 1790s, which Lescallier does not even mention. It is fair to ask about the extent to which the commissioner had an opportunity to gain insight into the local political conditions and conflicts during the eight days he spent on the east coast of Madagascar. Remarkably he stressed that the French administration had to do

 Ibid., 7– 9: “Réglement pour Madagascar”.  Ibid., 17: “sous la protection immédiate de la France, et comme étant, pour ainsi dire, une de ses dépendances”. That the use of European flags could have different meanings is shown by the practice in West Africa: Brauner, Kompanien, Könige und caboceers, 265 – 258.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 233 512, transcripts of letters and documents of Lescallier, p. 29 f., Lescallier to the Minister of the Navy, 7 September 1792: “excellent caractère”; “l’usage barbare qui avoit lieu dans ce pays du serment de sang”.

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everything possible to preserve peace.²⁷ It was not least for this reason that he issued those “Regulations for Madagascar” which, above all, were intended to improve control of the French citizens of the east coast.²⁸ The concrete conflict, however, that Lescallier wanted to avoid remains obscure. Since Zakavola and his minister had repeatedly complained about La Bigorne and Diard, Lescallier must have had at least some idea of the wars that had devastated the region in the 1780s. It is uncertain, however, whether he was aware that the political situation in the kingdom of the Betsimisaraka remained unstable. Indeed, the region was once again on the brink of civil war in August 1792. This time, three different leaders were vying for political power. Zakavola’s rule was by no means universally accepted. He was Iavy’s adopted son, but led by Tsialana, several brothers of the deceased king refused to recognise the succession. At the same time, Lavalahy, the Chief of the Zana-Malata, who were French-Malagasy mestizos who lived from piracy, acted largely independently. In the years that followed Lescallier’s stay in Madagascar, French traders were robbed of their goods or even killed as a result of conflicts between Zakavola and his uncles.²⁹ It is next to impossible to understand how Lescallier perceived the current crisis. In any case, his claim to have established a French protectorate and laid a solid foundation for French colonisation could not have been more unrealistic. Lescallier’s narrative itself testifies to the fact that the political elite of the kingdom was already divided in August 1792. The envoy of the National Assembly did not speak to, or make friends with, all the decisive actors in the region but only with the controversial Zakavola and his supporters. As the minutes of the meeting show, the uncles who were in conflict with Iavy’s adopted son stayed away from the negotiations and ceremonies. The unity of the Betsimisaraka under Zakavola, in which Lescallier seemed to believe, was an illusion. If at the meeting Zakavola’s chief minister explicitly wanted it to be stated in the minutes that he was also speaking on behalf of the absentees, this may be understood as a strategy to claim dominion over all the Betsimisaraka.³⁰ Lescallier’s writings, authored after his return to France in 1797, suggest that the former commissioner did not feel any need to get an idea of the political de-

 Ibid., 7, 15.  Ibid., 7– 10, 15 f.  Hébert, Jean-Claude, “Les Remous du bouillonement révolutionnaire sur nos postes de traite à Madagascar (1792– 1803)”, in: Wanquet, Claude/Benoît Jullien (eds.), Révolution française et océan Indien, Paris 1996, 167– 180, especially 167– 172.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 233 512, transcripts of letters and documents of Lescallier, p. 11– 15, “Serment porté mutuellement par M. Lescallier et les Français avec le roi et les chefs Madegasses”.

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velopments in the kingdom of the Betsimisaraka after August 1792. He still presented his actions in Madagascar as a milestone in the history of Franco-Malagasy relations, apparently without knowing what had happened since. In 1801 the former commissioner for the East Indian possessions claimed in a speech to the Institut de France that he had, through an oath with Zakavola, established friendly relations between the two nations and created a good basis for a policy of colonisation and civilisation.³¹ With this claim, Lescallier seems to have made himself heard in Paris. The instructions that Pierre-Alexandre-Laurent Forfait, the Minister of the Navy, issued to Louis-Thomas Villaret de Joyeuse in March 1800 clearly bear Lescallier’s stamp. Villaret de Joyeuse was to be appointed governor of the Mascarenes. According to the instructions, after his arrival in the Indian Ocean, he was to send a new French administrator to Mahavelona to strengthen France’s authority and trade in Madagascar. His policy was to be based on the oath of allegiance by which Zakavola had supposedly placed himself under France’s protection. Forfait also expected that the French administrator would establish similar protectorates in other provinces on the Red Island.³² Hence, in the early nineteenth century, Lescallier and the French political elite continued to cling to the dream of a soft colonial expansion in Madagascar. The chasm between aspiration and reality had never been so wide, not only because the region was still in a state of civil war,³³ but above all because the Mahavelona settlement no longer existed. A British cruiser had destroyed the palisade in December 1796, and the French did not reoccupy the site.³⁴ Yet as late as 1801, a clerk of the Ministry of the Navy considered Mahavelona the most important French settlement in Madagascar and, in doing so, referred to Lescallier.³⁵

 Lescallier, “Mémoire relatif à l’île de Madagascar”.  ANOM, C 4 113, fol. 124, “Instructions pour les citoyens Villaret-Joyeuse et Lequoy-Montgiraud”, March 1800. However, Villaret de Joyeuse turned down the position of governor.  For some violent incidents in the late 1790s, see Chapelier, Louis-Armand, Étude des manuscrits de Louis Armand Chapelier, voyageur-naturaliste, 1778 – 1806. Texte annoté par Henri Poisson, Tananarive 1940, 47– 49.  This intelligence had definitely reached France. It can be found, for example, in documents available to the State Secretariat; see A. N., AF III 208, no. 35, Colonial Assembly of Île de France to the National Assembly, 13 April 1797.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, anon., “Madagascar. Établissemens [sic!] successifs dans l’isle”, n.d.

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Convicts and Slaves Even so, the revolutionary period was by no means an epoch of the unchallenged triumph of Maudave’s dream. Rather, the thinking of the decision-makers in the motherland had moved away from an assimilationist colonisation programme in the years between Lescallier’s posting to the Indian Ocean region and his return to Paris. After the Legislative Assembly had dispatched Daniel Lescallier and JosephPierre Leboux-Dumorier as well as two other commissioners for the East Indian possessions to the Indian Ocean, the deputies and the government were in fact pursuing a very different project from the one Lescallier favoured at the same time. On 2 November 1793, the National Convention decided to make Tôlanaro a penal colony. Beggars and other persons sentenced to deportation by criminal and revolutionary courts were to be forcibly transported to Anosy. 150 soldiers were to watch over the prisoners in the old Fort-Dauphin, which the deputies renamed “Fort of the Law” (Fort-de-la-loi). Authority over the prisoners was to be entrusted to the “Municipal Council” of the Mahavelona (Foulpointe) settlement; a council that existed on paper only but which nevertheless was to provide the penal colony with all the necessary agricultural equipment.³⁶ The author of this law was Benoît Gouly, a deputy in the National Convention from Île de France who wanted to ensure the supply of food to his homeland by means of forced labour on the Great Island.³⁷ In a plea in favour of his bill, Gouly presented the beggars as actually, or potentially, dangerous counter-revolutionaries of whom France should rid herself. In the pleasant climate of Madagascar, in the midst of the abundance that nature offered there, these “evil rascals” (“mauvais garnements”) were now to work and even become rich if, in addition to forced labour, they spent a few hours a day cultivating the soil for their own use. This would allow them to enjoy good fortune denied to many hard-working and decent family fathers.³⁸ Nevertheless, the implementation of the project was not easy, as a clerk of the Ministry of the Navy remarked. In the eyes of the official, the Act of 2 November 1793 could indeed help to build prosperous colonies. However, one should

 For the meeting of the 11th Brumaire Year II: Procès-verbal de la Convention nationale, imprimé par son ordre. vol. 24: Contenant les séances depuis et compris le premier jour du deuxième mois de l’an deuxième de la République française une et indivisible, jusques et compris le 15 du même mois, Paris, l’an II [1792 or 1793], 257– 258.  Wanquet, “La première abolition de l’esclavage”, 86 f.  Gazette nationale ou Moniteur universel no. 43, Tridi, 2e décade de brumaire, l’an 2 (dimanche 3 novembre 1793, vieux style), 386.

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first define which goods they were to produce and what support they should receive. One would also have to distinguish between beggars and vicious prisoners and take measures to keep the latter in check. Moreover, to build up the colony, it was necessary to send craftsmen to Madagascar. Only thus could Fort-de-la-loi also be attractive to poor farmers looking for land. Another problem was that Foulpointe was too far from Fort-de-la-loi to be able to monitor the latter effectively. According to the numerous memoranda in the Ministry’s archives, the clerk of the Ministry continued, Tamatave (Toamasina) rather than Fort-de-laloi was the best place for a colony.³⁹ Finally, the law did not say anything about relations with the indigenous peoples. One could not ignore the fact that Fort-de-la-loi was no longer in French hands. It was questionable whether the natives would voluntarily hand over the place to France, the clerk concluded.⁴⁰ Gouly’s response shows an unwillingness to consider seriously the problems that his law entailed. For him, the fact that Fort-de-la-loi belonged to France by rights was sufficient and he could not imagine why the natives would resist the re-taking of the fort. Moreover, in his eyes, Foulpointe (Mahavelona) was not too far from Fort-de-la-loi to prosecute the offenders in the colony. According to Gouly, craftsmen from the motherland were unnecessary; it would suffice to send a trade clerk to Anosy, and Île de France would provide building materials and craftsmen. Nor did Gouly see a security problem. The prisoners would soon calm down if only they saw how pleasant their life in Madagascar was. If they did escape, however, the Malagasy would quickly kill them. Finally, they would also establish a colony in Toamasina.⁴¹ This reply from the deputy of Île de France is astonishing both in its imperturbability and its superficiality. It gives the impression that in the previous decades, the French had not suffered any negative experiences in Madagascar. In this letter more than ever, the inhabitants of the Great Island seem like passive objects of French policy whose possible reactions need not even be discussed. The law of 2 November 1793 differed markedly from the ideas of Maudave, Beňovský and Lescallier. Although formulated in the heyday of revolutionary messianism, there was nothing here of the idea of a “soft” expansion through policies of civilising and assimilation. In-

 This comment probably goes back to Cossigny’s repeated pleas in favour of this East Coast port: see chapter 10.  ANOM, C 4 108, fols. 344– 345, “Fait le 2 décembre 1793. L’adjoint de la 5e division de la marine et des colonies, au citoyen Gouly, député de l’Isle de France à la Convention nationale. Paris, le 12 frimaire an deuxème de la République”, 2 December 1793.  ANOM, C 4 108, fol. 163, “Paris, le 14 frimaire, an 2e de la republique. Le representant du peuple Gouly au citoyen adjoint de la 5e division de la marine”, 4 December 1793.

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stead, the idea of assimilating the indigenous people simply remained unmentioned. Gouly’s project and the corresponding law of the National Convention were rather influenced by the British model. The politicians in London had decided to establish a colony of convicts in south-eastern Australia in 1786. The so-called First Fleet had arrived in Botany Bay in 1788 with around 1,000 prisoners. Like Gouly, the architects of the British project Joseph Banks and James Cook had no clear idea of the relations between the new colony and the natives. Even though they perceived the local population through the lens of Enlightenment universal history, neither they nor the London politicians sought their civilising or even assimilation. The Enlightenment belief in progress certainly played a major role in the daring plan to colonise Australia, but the British imperial actors were far removed from any assimilationist traditions.⁴² Hence the French colonisation plans of the 1790s were only partly a continuation of Maudave’s project. This observation also applies to a number of Madagascar projects that came into being after the abolition of slavery in the French colonial empire in 1794. Here, again, a clear influence of British colonial concepts may be noticed. According to the authors of memoranda, the Great Island was to serve as a country of immigration for freed slaves and thus play a role similar to that of Sierra Leone in the British colonial empire. The ideas of a colony of freedmen and a colony of prisoners were closely intertwined with each other, and not only in the eyes of Bonaparte. For example, the Abbé Charles-Antoine-Joseph Leclerc de Montlinot referred to the British plans for Sierra Leone and other settlements of free “blacks” on the West African coast in order to promote a colonisation of the Bissagos Archipelago in the Atlantic Ocean with prisoners.⁴³ In his eyes, freed slaves and prisoners must have belonged to the same category of people.

 Macintyre, Stuart, A Concise History of Australia, Cambridge 2009, 18 – 36; Moorehead, Alan, The Fatal Impact. An Account of the Invasion of the South Pacific, 1767 – 1840, New York 1966, 101– 134; Gascoigne, The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia.  Leclerc de Montlinot, Charles-Antoine-Joseph, called the Abbé, Essai sur la transportation comme récompense, et la déportation comme peine, par Charles Montlinot, citoyen français, Paris 1796, 1– 6, 61– 91. Leclerc de Montlinot was close to the publisher Panckoucke and the financier Necker. With Necker’s help, he was appointed director of the poorhouse of Poissons in the late 1760s. He advocated the dissolution of the poorhouse system, which in his eyes only distributed “alms” instead of producing useful citizens. In 1797 he was appointed Director of the French poorhouse administration. See “Charles Leclerc de Montlinot”, in Dictionnaire des Journalistes (1600 – 1789), URL: http://dictionnaire-journalistes.gazettes18e.fr/journaliste/484charles-leclerc- de- montlinot (last accessed July 21, 2015).

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The project of a colony of freedmen in Madagascar appealed to both supporters and opponents of abolition. Gouly, who was certainly no friend of the abolition of slavery, advocated it just as did the abolitionist Étienne Burnel, whom the Directory had sent to the Mascarenes as a commissioner in 1796. From there, Burnel was to enforce the Constitution of 1795 which affirmed the abolition of slavery everywhere including the Indian Ocean area. This resulted in his expulsion by the plantation owners. Burnel believed that the immigration of free coloured people from the Mascarene Islands would finally accomplish the goal that French governments had been pursuing since 1767, namely the development of Madagascar through colonisation and the assimilation of the indigenous people.⁴⁴ Both the project of a penal colony and that of a colony of freed slaves remained on the agenda at a time when Lescallier and Forfait were planning a “soft” and civilising expansion through the deployment of a few hundred morally exemplary “whites”. The First Consul Napoléon Bonaparte seems to have adopted the latter two projects in particular. He planned to send three hundred “white” and one hundred “black” soldiers as well as four hundred convicts to Anosy. The penal colony in Madagascar seemed to him all the more attractive as it might serve as a place where “all the blacks and coloureds of Saint-Domingue, Martinique, Guadeloupe, Île de France and Île de la Réunion, of whom one does not know where to put them”, could be settled,⁴⁵ and to whom would be added numerous brigands who were plaguing the west and south of France.⁴⁶ For this purpose, Madagascar should be divided into two zones. The north – Antongil Bay and Mahavelona – would take the “black” deportees, and to this end, 400 French and 200 Polish soldiers, or “foreign deserters” (“déserteurs étrang-

 A. N., D/XXV/130, dossier 1019, no. 5, “Projet d’un mode d’exécution du décret du 16 pluviose an deuxième, envoyé par les citoyens Besnard, Serres et Gouly, membres de la Convention le 14 fructidor an troisième aux assemblées coloniales des isles de France et de la Réunion”, 31 August 1795, see items 12 and 13; Burnel, Étienne, Essai sur les colonies orientales, Paris [1797], 19 – 20; Wanquet, “La première abolition de l’esclavage”, 83 – 91. Governor Magallon also advocated the creation of a colony of free coloured people in Madagascar; see Prentout, Henri, L’Île de France sous Decaen (1803 – 1810). Essai sur la politique colonial du Premier empire et la rivalité de la France et de l’Angleterre dans les Indes orientales, Paris 1901, 306. Among the Mascarene upper class, Burnel’s project provoked only laughter; see Wanquet, Claude, Histoire d’une Re´volution. La Réunion, 1789 – 1803, 3 vols., Marseille 1981– 1984, vol. 3, 202– 209.  Bonaparte, Napoléon, “Notes sur l’expédition de Madagascar, par Bonaparte, premier consul. Pièce inédite tirée des minutes des Archives nationales, carton 3325 – 1173”, in: Bulletin de la Société de Géographie de l’Est 5 (1883), 499 – 500, here 499: “déporter de Saint-Domingue, de la Martinique, de la Guadeloupe, des îles de France, de la Réunion tous les noirs et hommes de couleur dont on ne saurait que faire”.  Ibid.

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ers”), would be sent to build a fortress. The “white” prisoners, on the other hand, would be taken to Tôlanaro.⁴⁷ According to this project, Guadeloupe’s insurgents, who had risen up against the French governor Lacrosse at the end of 1801, were to be brought to Anosy.⁴⁸ Just like Gouly’s proposition, Bonaparte’s plans were characterised by the complete absence of any consideration of the fate and reactions of the indigenous people. To the First Consul, Madagascar appeared to be terra nullius and therefore could serve as an instrument of colonisation based on racial segregation. Thus, his project was hardly compatible with that of Lescallier and Forfait. In 1801 Bonaparte furthermore commissioned General Decaen, whom he intended to be head of the East Indian colonies, to draw up plans for the colonisation of Madagascar. At the end of 1801, the General produced a synthesis of the idea of a penal colony and the assimilation project. According to Decaen’s project, prisoners were to marry Malagasy women and employ local Malagasy as wage labourers which would lead to the civilising and assimilation of the indigenous people in the medium term. Slavery was to be banned in the new colony, and patriotism would flourish thanks to the creation of a National Guard. Decaen soon had the opportunity to bring about something concrete in Madagascar. As a matter of fact, Bonaparte sent him to the East Indies in 1802 where he was to expand the French colonies in South Asia, thanks in part to an uprising of Indian princes. However, Decaen had to retreat to the Mascarenes as early as 1803 and subsequently as governor played a key role in Madagascar policy. To implement his Madagascar project, Decaen sent an officer named Mécusson to Tôlanaro as early as the beginning of 1802. However, Mécusson did not succeed in buying land from the king of the region who was obviously against a return of the French. In addition, trade was miserable and the soldiers suffered from tropical diseases. This situation, strongly reminiscent of Maudave’s experiences thirty-five years earlier, led Decaen to abandon his goal of colonising Anosy.⁴⁹ Despite all this, he did not give up the idea of establishing colonies on the Red Island. He sent trade clerks to Madagascar to bring the French traders under their control.⁵⁰ Above all, the governor now turned his attention to Toamasina, which, due to the civil wars that had devastated the region of Mahavelona and the French settlement there, had become the most important port for French

 Ibid.  Benot, Yves, La Démence coloniale sous Napoléon, Paris 2006, 39 f., 69.  Prentout, Decaen, 301– 309.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Arrêté du général Decaen, Capitaine-général des établissements français a l’est du Cap de Bonne esperance, portant création d’agents commerciaux à Madagascar”, 23 March 1807.

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traders. In 1807, Decaen appointed Sylvain Roux as “trade agent for Madagascar” (“agent commercial de Madagascar”), dispatched him to Toamasina and instructed him to work towards setting up a colony in the region, in the basin of the Ivondro River.

The New Madagascar Policy of the Restoration Period The basin of the Ivondro River was in the sights of the French colonial elite because Cossigny, who had already exercised great influence on Lescallier, had advocated its colonisation for several decades.⁵¹ Roux, the new trade agent, had adopted Cossigny’s project as his own and dreamed of colonising the shores of the Ivondro River. Yet in one respect, Roux’ plan differed decisively from Cossigny’s project as he had no intention whatever of civilising the Malagasy, let alone assimilating them. In his opinion, the “philanthropists or modern philosphes” were wrong to think the Malagasy were good and to blame the French for their acts of violence. It was not the alleged tyranny of the French but rather the perpetual hatred of the “blacks” against the “whites” that had led to the massacres in Tôlanaro and on Nosy Boraha. Consequently, Roux considered it unrealistic to settle among the Malagasy or try to re-educate them. In his opinion, the Malagasy held on to their customs and traditions even more strongly than the Chinese did, and even those who had lived under the French for twenty years would immediately resume their old customs as soon as they left civilised society. Roux therefore wanted to resettle the inhabitants of the Ivondro basin by buying their land or else expelling them violently.⁵² Roux’ colonisation dream, like so many others, remained unfulfilled. During his term of office, the trade agent was mainly occupied wrestling with French traders who had integrated into local society and ignored his authority. He also entered into a conflict with Zakavola’s successor in Mahavelona who did not want to tolerate competition from Toamasina. With his forty or so soldiers, Roux could hardly impress the king of the Betsimisaraka. Finally, in 1811, he had to surrender the small French fort at Toamasina to the British forces who

 According to Roux, Cossigny’s resubmission in 1802 of an old memorandum was the decisive factor for his being sent to the region; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to a ministerial official, 20 September 1817.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to the Minister of the Navy, 20 August 1810: “philanthropes ou modernes philosophes”.

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had seized Île de France a year earlier. Once again, the colonisation plans on Malagasy soil had come to nothing.⁵³ Roux soon turned his attention to the island of Nosy Boraha off the coast of Madagascar. In 1817 he claimed that in the five years he had spent in Toamasina, he quickly realised that the area was not suitable for colonisation. Instead, he had favoured an expansion on Nosy Boraha, as the incorporation of this small island into the French colonial empire would provoke less conflict with the natives.⁵⁴ Whether Roux actually thought of Nosy Boraha as early as 1807– 1811 cannot be verified. It is certain, however, that in 1817 the former trade agent brought this island up for discussion, thus initiating a turning point in French Madagascar policy. The new policy of the Restoration period operated within the restricted room for manoeuvre that France enjoyed in Madagascar after 1815. Compared to Great Britain as well as some Malagasy princes, the French monarchy had lost considerable influence. The King of the Merina, Radama I, was about to conquer large parts of Madagascar. He devastated entire regions in his campaigns and enslaved their inhabitants. In 1817 he allied himself with Great Britain. In contrast, several years earlier, the French had abandoned their last fort on the Great Island. In addition, Île de France had been lost to the United Kingdom in 1810, and the London government claimed sovereignty over Madagascar after the peace treaties of 1814– 1815. In British eyes, the island was one of the dependencies of former Île de France, which was now again called Mauritius. The Kingdom of France refrained from re-establishing a foothold in Madagascar for several years so as not to provoke a conflict with the British. Not even the French traders were allowed to operate on the Great Island as the governor of Mauritius insisted that they first obtain his permission. The Paris government, on the other hand, claimed that the settlements in Madagascar were never mentioned in the peace accords and, therefore, had not been ceded to Great Britain. It argued that from a legal viewpoint, the east coast settlements were still owned by France. Moreover, both the intendant of Île Bourbon and Roux pointed out that Madagascar did not actually belong to a European monarch, but only to the indigenous kings.⁵⁵

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 99, p. 97, “Essai sur Madagascar”, 1816 – 1817; Prentout, Decaen, 310 – 323; Filliot, “Les Établissements français à Madagascar”, 80 – 83.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to a Ministry official, 20 September 1817.  Note from the intendant of Bourbon (ordonnateur de l’île Bourbon), Marchant, in ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, 8 October 1814; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to the Director of the Colonial Department in the Ministry of the Navy (directeur des colonies), Baron Portal, 20 November 1816; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Extrait de la correspondance

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In February 1817, the conflict was settled diplomatically when London recognised France’s claim to its old settlements on the Great Island. Nevertheless, regarding Madagascar’s legal situation, the two European states continued to take a different view. While the British government now insisted that the island was independent, French politicians assumed that at least the entire east coast was owned by France. Because of these differences, the French elite in 1819 still feared the reaction of the British government if France were to undertake the colonisation of part of Madagascar.⁵⁶ The conflicting assessments of the legal situation of the Europeans in Madagascar led the British and French elites to different behaviours towards the Malagasy kingdoms. The Captain General of the French possessions beyond the Cape of Good Hope, Pierre Bernard Milius, was shocked when the Governor of Mauritius, Sir Robert Farquhar, received the brothers of the Merina King Radama I like European princes.⁵⁷ Milius also refused to exchange letters with the King of Toamasina, Jean-René. In his opinion, there was “nothing more ridiculous […] than the childish pretensions of Jean-René and Radama, who have the impertinence to think of themselves as rulers who could negotiate on equal terms with the king of France”.⁵⁸ Milius’ contempt for Jean-René must have had something to do with the onetime social position of the latter. Jean-René, who had seized power in Toamasina in the 1810s, was born the son of a French slave trader and a Malagasy woman in 1773 and had grown up mainly on Île de France. In 1798 he had found employment as an interpreter in the French settlement of Toamasina. In the power vacuum left by the wars of succession in the kingdom of the Betsimisaraka, he had been able, according to his own account, to take control of Toamasina at the end of 1812 and to appoint his brother as an elder of a village in this region. Despite

de MM. les administrateurs de Bourbon, parvenue au bureau le 4 octobre 1816” (see letter of 15 May 1816 regarding Farquhar and the letter of 10 June 1816).  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Roux to the Minister of the Navy Mauduit, 10 September 1819; for a note from a ministry employee for Mauduit, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Nottes [sic!] pour M. Mauduit directeur des colonies”, September 1819; for a note to the Council of Ministers, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Note pour le conseil des ministres”, October 1819.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Milius to Forestier, 28 August 1819.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Milius presumably to a clerk of the Ministry of the Navy, 30 January 1819: “rien ne me semble plus ridicule, pour ne pas dire plus, comme les prétentions puériles de Jean René et de Radama qui ont l’insolence de se croire des autorités suffisantes pour traiter d’égal à égal avec le Roi de france”. Further similar statements by Milius about Jean-René: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Milius to Mauduit, 13 October 1819.

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his origins, he had sought an alliance with Great Britain rather than with France.⁵⁹ Milius’ contempt did not stop Jean-René from behaving confidently towards the French. He did not let on that before seizing power, he had served as an interpreter in Toamasina under Roux. He always behaved like a sovereign prince who wished to see the return of French trade clerks but who would oppose the re-establishment of a French fort in Toamasina. To the astonished envoys of the French government who saw in Jean-René a Frenchman, or at least a vassal of France, he openly suggested that France should send settlers who, however, would remain under his rule. He also wrote a letter to Louis XVIII asking him for immigrants. The French rejected this offer as “ridiculous” (“ridicule”), but the British, by transporting Indian coolies, in fact supported the establishment of plantations on Jean-René’s territory.⁶⁰ Refusing to recognise the Malagasy princes’ claims to rule, France could achieve little on the Great Island without good relations with Jean-René and Radama. By actively supporting these two kings, especially by training and equipping the army of the Merina king, the British had secured significant influence over the highlands and the east coast of Madagascar. The men sent to the Red Island by the French government were well aware that it was only through an alliance with these princes that their nation would be able to regain a foothold in these parts. They were very impressed by Radama’s conquests who, in their eyes, would soon dominate the entire island. They also believed in the possibility of detaching these princes from the British alliance, because they thought that Radama and Jean-René loved the French nation and were deeply disappointed by the “English” who did not keep their promises. Roux knew his former employee Jean-René very well and trusted his patriotic feelings. At the Paris headquarters, however, officials were convinced that one could not ask Radama or Jean-

 MHN, Ms. 3001, Jean-René to Lord Farquhar, 1813; Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 121, 123, 275.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Observations faites par l’agent commercial de Madagascar dans l’exploration de la côte orientale de cette île, […] en septembre, oct obre, novembre et décembre 1818”, 11– 13; for a report by Frappaz, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 1 October 1819; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Albrand to Milius, 19 July 1819; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Jean-René to Louis XVIII, 8 December 1818. For the English plantations in the region of Toamasina, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de Bréon”, 20 January 1819, 5 f. For Jean-René demonstrating his status as an ally of Great Britain with flags and other objects in his residence, see Frappaz, Voyages, 138 f.

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René for permission to set up colonies without endangering the property rights and dignity of France.⁶¹ For the French elite, the loss of influence was all the more difficult to cope with as the state of the colonial empire, in their eyes, made an expansion into Madagascar more urgent than ever. Saint-Domingue, the “Pearl of the Antilles”, was lost and the abolition of the slave trade made the decline of the remaining Caribbean possessions likely. Above all, however, France had lost Île de France and with it not only an important plantation colony, but also its only safe harbour in the Indian Ocean. For these reasons, the government instructed Forestier, a member of the Council of State and vice-president of the Maritime Council, to suggest a location for a new French settlement in these waters. This settlement was to have both an agricultural and a military character.⁶² Forestier was eventually persuaded by a colonisation project that was not in the tradition of the late Enlightenment as he asked Roux for advice and adopted his views. Forestier and Roux’ plan was to annex Nosy Boraha to France and to establish a more substantial colony on the east coast of Madagascar in the Bay of Taingy-Taingy (Fr. Tintingue) once the French had a solid basis on this small island. The inhabitants of Nosy Boraha were to be expelled and prisoners and slaves were to be forcibly settled in their place. Although the slave trade was officially prohibited, Forestier and Roux planned to bring slaves to Nosy Boraha. They were to be regarded as “engagés”, that is, as unfree labourers who would be bought from the Merina and released after fourteen or fifteen years, unless they committed themselves for another ten years. Isolated from the “hypocritical” and “perfidious” Malagasy, the French should finally implement the old project of colonising the Great Island, a project “so often conceived and so often abandoned”, as Roux pointed out.⁶³ The colony would probably encourage

 ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Observations faites par l’agent commercial de Madagascar dans l’exploration de la côte orientale de cette île, […] en septembre, octobre, novembre et décembre 1818”, 8 – 11; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Copie du rapport du baron Armand de Mackau au gouverneur de Bourbon”, 21 December 1818; for report of a ministry official to Forestier, see ANOM, Séries géographique, MAD 6 14, 28 August 1819; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Milius to Mauduit, 13 Oktober 1819; for a report from Frappaz to Milius, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 31 May 1819.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Mémoire sur un projet d’établissement à Madagascar” [Forestier’s project], May 1817.  For Roux’ memorandum for Forestier and the Ministry of the Navy, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Extrait d’un mémoire relatif au projet d’établissement à l’île de Madagascar adressé à M. le conseiller d’État chargé de la direction supérieure de l’administration des colonies, par M. Roux agent commercial de Madagascar”, 2 May 1817: “caractère […] dont la dominante est l’hypocrisie et la perfidie”, “projet tant de fois conçu, et si souvent abandonné”. Also

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the Malagasy to progress in the long run but would by no means aim at their civilisation.⁶⁴ With these words, Roux convinced not only Forestier but likewise the officials of the Ministry of the Navy, who also preferred a French colony away from the Malagasy settlements.⁶⁵ Besides, the project of importing convicts continued to be legitimised with reference to the British penal colony at Botany Bay in Australia; Roux translated from English a document on this colony for the Ministry of the Navy.⁶⁶ Yet for the time being, the French government did not approve the establishment of the colony for financial reasons. It demanded more precise information about Nosy Boraha before the project could be implemented. Roux had only viewed this island from a ship and had legitimised his plans mainly by referring to the statements of a merchant friend from Nantes who had lived there.⁶⁷ The Minister of the Navy therefore decided in the autumn of 1817 to send Roux together with an engineer-geographer (ingénieur-géographe) and a botanist to the northeast coast of Madagascar and especially to Nosy Boraha. The three

see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to a ministry official or to Forestier, 2 May 1817; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Forestier to Roux, 21 May 1817. For Forestier’s memorandum, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Mémoire sur un projet d’établissement à Madagascar”, May 1817; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Minister of the Navy to Forestier, 29 May 1817; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to the ministry official Saint-Hilaire, 25 May 1817. For Forestier and Roux, also see Géraud, Jean-François, “Dans le sud-ouest de l’océan Indien. Madagascar, Nossi-Bé, Mayotte, la recherche d’un port de substitution à Bourbon (fin du XVIIIe siècle–1850)”, in: Revue historique des Mascareignes 5 (2004), 35 – 52, here 40 – 43. The project of buying slaves for the colony did not prevent Roux from promising an end to the slave trade; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Roux to Mauduit, 11 September 1819.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to Saint-Hilaire, 17 December 1817.  For note from a ministry official, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Sur le désir exprimé par Roux de revenir en France aussitôt son exploration de Madagascar achevée, et sur une opinion émise par l’auteur anglais Colqu’houn relativement aux facilités qu’offre pour des établissements coloniaux l’île dont il s’agit”, 27 November 1817; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to Saint-Hilaire, 17 December 1817.  For drafts of a letter from the Council of State to Forestier, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Council of State to Forestier, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to the Minister of the Navy, n.d. (reply on 20 November 1817). As early as 1810, Roux referred to the example of Botany Bay; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to the Minister of the Navy, 20 August 1810.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Notes demandées à Nantes, à M. Vauvercy, sur Sainte-Marie”, July 1817; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Double minute. Le ministre aux commandants à Bourbon”, 9 October 1817; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Forestier to Saint-Hilaire, 16 June 1817; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to Saint-Hilaire, 14 July 1817.

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men were to assess if an agricultural and military colony could be established there.⁶⁸ The expedition took place between September and December 1818, and according to Roux’ account, it was successful. The trade agent solemnly retook possession of Nosy Boraha for the French king by clearing the “pyramid” of 1753⁶⁹ of plants, hoisting the white flag and ceremonially firing cannons. In his report, the natives were happy about the return of the island to the bosom of France, even though a relative of Queen Betia, since deceased, implicitly made financial demands.⁷⁰ Mackau, the ship’s captain, provided an explanation for the smooth takeover of Nosy Boraha. He suspected that among the Zana-Malata, the fear of Radama was so great that the French presence might be considered a lesser evil.⁷¹ Nevertheless, the return of the French immediately appears to have worried at least some of the local upper class. A noblewoman asked for permission to have her ancestral tombs moved to the Great Island, a wish which Roux refused.⁷² After Nosy Boraha, Roux took possession of Taingy-Taingy (Tintingue). The local ruler Tsifanin, who was of the royal house of the Betsimisaraka, was particularly eager to seek an alliance with the French, because of his family’s conflict with the upstart Jean-René and out of fear of Radama. Presumably alluding to the assistance that Île de France had given to his ancestor Iavy, he recalled

 ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Minister of the Navy to the administrators of Île Bourbon, 9 October 1817; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to Saint-Hilaire, 11 December 1817; for draft instructions for Roux, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, [1817]. Roux repeatedly complained about the meagre funds allocated to the expedition; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Roux to the Minister of the Navy, 11 and 21 October 1817; for report by a ministerial official, with which the Minister of the Navy agreed, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, 7 November 1817. As a small extra, he could only demand the production of medals for the “chiefs” of Madagascar; see relevant folder in ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, folder entitled “Octobre à Decembre 1817. Medailles frappées pour Madagascar”.  See the beginning of Chapter 1.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, p. 35 f., “Observations faites par l’agent commercial de Madagascar dans l’exploration de la côte orientale de cette île, ordonnée par son excellence le ministre de la marine, et exécutée à bord des flutes de Sa majesté Le Golo et le Lys en septembre, octobre, novembre et décembre 1818”, n.d. Bréon’s description of the seizure of the island: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de Bréon”, 20 January 1819, 18.  For report of Baron de Mackau on Madagascar to Milius, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 1818.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, p. 37, “Observations faites par l’agent commercial de Madagascar […] en septembre, octobre, novembre et décembre 1818”. Oddly enough, Roux interprets this scene as clear proof that the indigenous people would accept French rule completely.

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that he owed his rule to the French. He fervently professed his loyalty to the French nation and pledged to defend the French and their flag at all times.⁷³ Nonetheless, Roux did not think much of him. Although like the other princes, Tsifanin held a sacred position and was credited with magical powers, the trade agent estimated that he had little authority. It was not with Tsifanin, Roux thought, but with Radama that France should negotiate.⁷⁴ Roux took a clear stand in the conflicts on the east coast. In order not to demonstrate friendship with the Betsimisaraka princes, who were enemies of Jean-René’s, he refused to go ashore in Mahavelona.⁷⁵ Nevertheless, he sailed back to France with sons from both parties, a son of Fiche’s, Jean-René’s brother and heir, and a son of Tsifanin’s.⁷⁶ The former trade agent in Toamasina saw his theories about the suitability of Nosy Boraha completely confirmed. While, according to him, Toamasina and the Ivondro basin should not be considered for colonisation for political reasons and because of the insecurity of the port, the numerically small population of Nosy Boraha could be persuaded to leave the island and in their place, some “engagés”, that is slaves, could be settled. In all respects, Roux remained faithful to his original colonisation plan.⁷⁷ The other expedition members agreed with him in so far as they all believed that the Malagasy could not be made either to progress or to work. Mackau, the ship’s captain, could scarcely imagine that one could get these “people who have so few needs, are so intelligent and so concerned about their independence”, to cultivate the soil on plantations in the near future. One of the obstacles to this was the insurmountable “prejudice” that agricultural labour was women’s work.⁷⁸ The Royal Surveyor Petit de La Rhodière thought the Malagasy so “conceited” that they would reject all innovation. They simply laughed at the tools of

 Ibid., p. 43 f.; for report of Mackau to Milius, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 1818; report of Albrand to Milius: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 19 July 1819.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, p. 44, “Observations faites par l’agent commercial de Madagascar […] en septembre, octobre, novembre et décembre 1818”, n.d.  Ibid., p. 15; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de Bréon”, 20 January 1819 (p. 8).  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Roux to Mauduit, 14 July 1819; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Mauduit to Milius, 18 August 1819.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Observations faites par l’agent commercial de Madagascar”, 1818.  For report of Baron von Mackau on Madagascar to Milius, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Mission et rapport du baron de Mackau sur Madagascar”, 1818: “Il est difficile de prévoir comment on pourrait amener à cultiver la terre des hommes aussi dépourvus de besoins, aussi intelligents et aussi jaloux de leur indépendance que les Malgaches.”

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the Europeans and could therefore only be hired by the settlers for a small number of services.⁷⁹ Bréon, the botanist, considered the Malagasy “exceedingly lazy, bibulous and superstitious”. In his eyes, they knew “neither trade nor agriculture” and due to their “superstitions”, one would never be able to get this people to plough a field.⁸⁰ Instead, it would be necessary to import people who had already been “acclimatised,” namely slaves from Africa.⁸¹ The expedition members thus agreed that the dream of a colonial expansion through the civilising and assimilation of the natives had to be abandoned. They convinced Governor Milius that “the indolence of these unfortunate inhabitants appears indomitable”.⁸² This view reflected their disappointment as the French had repeatedly tried in vain to persuade the Malagasy to adopt “civilised” ways of life and work. But the indigenous peoples held on to their agricultural techniques from Southeast Asia, which the French largely despised. Also, all the expedition members realised that the new power relations on the Great Island suggested a retreat to Nosy Boraha. On Nosy Boraha or in Taingy-Taingy, they could certainly use for their own ends the terror emanating from Radama. Even in faraway Tôlanaro, the local prince accepted the return of the French and the reconstruction of Fort-Dauphin in 1819, because he feared that he would soon be subjugated by the Merina ruler. In order to enjoy protection of France, he was prepared to forego the taxes that foreign traders hitherto had to pay him and which, to French eyes, seemed excessively high.⁸³ However, it was clear to all the expedition members that neither these lesser rulers nor France could resist the armies of the Merina. It was therefore more prudent to leave the main island. The expedition members and various experts on Madagascar did not by any means share Roux’ opinion unanimously that Nosy Boraha was suitable for the establishment of an agricultural colony. On the contrary, most of them thought

 For the report of Petit de la Rhodière, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport sur quelques parties de Madagascar par M. Petit de la Rhodière”, 10 February 1819, p. 38 f.: “vanité”.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de Bréon”, 20 January 1819, p. 33: “Ce peuple est extrêmement paresseux, ivrogne, et superstitieux, il ne se livre à aucune branche de commerce et ne connait pas l’agriculture”.  Ibid, p. 33 f. Frappaz was more optimistic about the possibility of civilising the Malagasy, although he, too, claimed that they were lazy and morally corrupt; see Frappaz, Voyages, 118, 159.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Milius to Mauduit, 13 October 1819: “l’inertie de ces malheureux habitants paraît invincible”.  For report of ship’s captain Frappaz to Milius, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 1 October 1819, p. 39 f.; copy of letter from Albrand to Milius: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Albrand to Milius, 11 September 1819. Also see Frappaz, Voyages, 149 f.

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that Nosy Boraha’s sandy soil would make for miserable plantations and the island’s numerous swamps would claim many lives while, in their opinion, Tôlanaro had much better soil and a distinctly healthier climate.⁸⁴ Mackau, who was inclined towards the colonisation of Nosy Boraha, refused to take a clear stand for fear of being held responsible for the deaths of thousands of his fellow citizens.⁸⁵ Nevertheless, security policy considerations ultimately prevailed. For this reason, Milius, the governor of Île Bourbon, supported the project of a colonisation of Nosy Boraha even though he believed that Anosy was better suited for the establishment of plantations.⁸⁶ Roux convinced the Ministry of the Navy of his idea of setting up a colony on the tropical island, spatially separated from the Malagasy and with imported slaves.⁸⁷ The Minister of the Navy therefore instructed Forestier at the end of August 1819 to work with Roux and Mackau who had meanwhile sailed back to France to draft an updated version of Roux’ plan for the colonisation of Nosy Boraha.⁸⁸ As was to be expected, the final version of the project in November 1819 developed from Roux’ original ideas with all their contradictions: there was to be no slavery in the colony, but enslaved la-

 The engineer geographer Schneider was a proponent of Fort-Dauphin: for report from Schneider to Milius, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, 16 April 1819. Petit de la Rhodière considered Nosy Boraha unhealthy; for report see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 10 February 1819. The ship’s captain Frappaz, his first officer Henry and the trader Hugon were all of Schneider’s opinion: report by Frappaz, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 1 October 1819, p. 3; report by Henry to Milius: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Rapport de Henry, Joint à une lettre du gouverneur de Bourbon du 13 octobre 1819”; various memoranda by Hugon in: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15.  For the report by Mackau, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 1818.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Milius to Mauduit, March 1819. Hugon also believed that French settlers in the vicinity of Jean-René and Radama were not safe. He believed that only Anosy was far enough away from Antananarivo and Toamasina; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Relation sur l’isle de Sainte Marie, accompagnée de détails sur Tamatave, Foulpointe, et sur la baron de Beniowsky”, February 1818.  For the report of an official of the Ministry of the Navy (possibly Saint-Hilaires) to the Minister, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, 28 August 1819. According to Milius, the Dauphin followed the project with interest; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Roux probably to Forestier, Île Bourbon, 2 February 1819.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Mauduit to Forestier, 28 August 1819; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Mauduit to Mackau, 28 August 1819; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Forestier to Mauduit, 30 August 1819.

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bourers would be bought; one should not get involved in internal Malagasy conflicts but influence the election of their “chiefs”.⁸⁹ While in Paris the colonisation of Nosy Boraha and Taingy-Taingy was being planned, the situation on the ground presented itself quite differently from what Roux and Forestier imagined. As early as July 1819, Governor Milius received the news that the “chief” of Île aux Cailles – a small island called Îlot Madame by Roux which closes the natural harbour of Nosy Boraha – demanded too much money for the sale or rental of property that was needed to establish the settlement. The said Zana-Malata was a son of the prince who in the early 1750s had arranged the killing of Gosse, the first commander of the India Company’s settlement. Moreover, the officers who were on Nosy Boraha reported to the governor that not only was the island unhealthy but also that the indigenous people were impossible to subjugate and completely ignored the property rights of France.⁹⁰ In the years that followed, half of the soldiers died of diseases and French settlers failed to appear.⁹¹ At a time when in faraway France, State Councillor Forestier presented to the Minister of the Navy the second version of his memorandum, Governor Milius was completely disillusioned with the possibility of colonising Nosy Boraha. In his opinion, the reproach that Forestier levelled against Maudave, namely that he had been blinded by enthusiasm to the realities of Madagascar, could also be levelled against Roux, who also had his colonial dream.⁹²

 ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, letters by Forestier to Mauduit, 28 September, 12 October and 18 November 1819; memorandum by Forestier: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Note pour l’expédition de Madagascar”, 1819. Also see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/89, no. 112, “Copie du rapport fait à M. Silvain Roux, commandant particulier des établissements français de Madagascar sur la colonie de Sainte-Marie et la défense militaire du Port-Louis”, 5 December 1823.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Albrand to Milius, 19 July 1819.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/89, no. 112, “Copie du rapport fait à M. Silvain Roux”, 5 December 1823; Frappaz, Voyages, 200 f.  Regarding Roux’ report, Milius writes: “il y règne un enthousiasme pour les lieux et les habitants qu’il ne serait pas raisonnable d’adopter sans réflexion”, ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, Milius to Mauduit, 17 November 1819.

Creating Knowledge

8 The Spirit of Gentleness The preceding chapters have shown that various actors in the politics of Madagascar mobilised certain images of the Great Island right up to the revolutionary period in order to advocate a “soft” colonial expansion. Maudave left a lasting mark on the way Madagascar was written about. This raises the question of the extent to which in the second half of the eighteenth century, there was a dominant way of writing about Madagascar, not only among certain authors but also in the French state apparatus, and to what extent this influenced ministerial policy. In scholarship, both historians and specialists in the literature about the Indian Ocean have shown that the writings on Madagascar from the later eighteenth century are characterised by frequently recurring patterns which conveyed a picture of the Great Island that was far removed from reality.¹ The texts on Madagascar and the colonial projects of the French from the motherland and the Mascarenes during the revolutionary period have been studied under this premise, in particular those of the National Assembly delegate Daniel Lescallier.² The present chapter traces these phenomena more precisely. The central question is concerned with the extent to which a Madagascar discourse emerged in the eighteenth century and if so, how it was used. The case of Madagascar should enhance our understanding of how the history of the relations between knowledge and colonial rule may be written, and to what extent the production of imperial knowledge and colonial expansion supported each other. The aim here is to show that in the context of colonial failure, a utopian discourse prevailed in France that hardly helped the decision-makers to develop a realistic policy. Since the 1970s, historical discourse analysis has been focusing on the connection between knowledge and power. Influenced above all by Foucault, it examines “linguistic fields that regulate what can be thought, said and done”.³ In this sense, the analysis of “interpersonal speech and text systems” contributes to

 Wanquet, “Entre Délire de conquête et parcimonie”; Zatorska, Discours colonial; Racault, “Les premières tentatives coloniales”; Gigan, “Bernardin de Saint-Pierre”.  Bois, Dominique, “Les Franco-mauriciens face à la conquête de Madagascar. L’invention d’un territoire français”, in: Claude Wanquet/Benoît Jullien (eds.), Révolution française et océan Indien, Paris 1996, 435 – 444; Wanquet, “La première abolition de l’esclavage”; Sylla, “Un envoyé de l’Assemblée nationale”; Sylla, “La côte orientale de Madagascar”.  Quotation: Landwehr, Achim, Geschichte des Sagbaren. Einfü hrung in die historische Diskursanalyse, Tü bingen 2001, 81. Of Foucault’s work, see above all L’Ordre du discours; Foucault, Histoire de la sexualité. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-010

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the exploration of power relations.⁴ Like conceptual history, the history of discourse is a fruitful method for linking the history of ideas and social history.⁵ The term “discourse” is useful to denote how speech is structured in connection with claims to power, such as those studied in scholarship on orientalism.⁶ However, claims to power should not be confused with power relations. It is true that power never exists beyond its symbolic – i. e. also linguistic – construction, as the cultural history of the political has shown.⁷ But linguistic constructions are always actualised in speech acts by actors with intentions and claims.⁸ These political actors resort to discourses in a competitive situation in which they try to assert themselves against others. Thus, the more recent history of knowledge emphasises that knowledge should not simply be equated with collective power, but rather that it fulfils different functions for diverse actors.⁹ Therefore, the term “discourse” is broadly defined here and used for the purpose of describing regularly occurring epistemic dispositions which constitute an object in connection with claims to power. A discourse presupposes the establishment of coherent knowledge about a particular object. This knowledge enables political actors to use this “script” to plead the case for a cause and formulate claims. In what follows, we will examine the extent to which the abovementioned recurring patterns in the writings on Madagascar constituted an ensemble of interpretive patterns that reduced complexity, ordered reality, limited the field of what could be said and was related to claims to power.

Madagascar during the Late Enlightenment In numerous texts of the late eighteenth century, the images of Madagascar that Maudave disseminated in his writings and that influenced Beňovský’s writing strategies can again be found. In addition to the aforementioned Valgny,

 Haslinger, Peter, “Diskurs, Sprache, Zeit, Identität. Plädoyer fü r eine erweiterte Diskursgeschichte”, in: Eder, Franz X./Reinhard Sieder (eds.), Historische Diskursanalysen. Genealogie, Theorie, Anwendungen, Wiesbaden 2006, 27– 50, 27.  Bödeker, Hans Erich, “Ausprägungen der historischen Semantik in den historischen Kulturwissenschaften”, in: idem (ed.), Begriffsgeschichte, Diskursgeschichte, Metapherngeschichte, Göttingen 2002, 7– 28.  Said, Orientalism; Wolff, Inventing Eastern Europe.  Stollberg-Rilinger, Barbara, “Was heißt Kulturgeschichte des Politischen?” In: Was heißt Kulturgeschichte des Politischen? Ed. Stollberg-Rilinger, Barbara, Berlin 2005, 9 – 25.  Skinner, Quentin, “‘Social meaning’ and the explanation of social action”, in: James Tully (ed.), Meaning and Context. Quentin Skinner and His Critics, Cambridge 1972, 79 – 97.  Brendecke, Imperium und Empirie; Friedrich, Die Geburt des Archivs, 193.

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Maudave and Beňovský as well as ministerial officials, a further twenty-six authors are known by name who, between 1770 and 1816, wrote more than fifty unprinted memoranda and memorandum-like longer letters that drew on the knowledge of Madagascar produced by Maudave. In addition, approximately forty anonymous memoranda survive in state archives which show similar patterns of interpretation and knowledge.¹⁰ From the late 1760s to the early nineteenth century, only a small minority of memoranda were written that deviated from Maudave’s discourse. The series of images of Madagascar that were used again and again and that were in close symbiosis with colonisation plans could be summarised as follows. Madagascar was an extremely rich island that could become the centre of a colonial empire in the East Indies, producing all the trade goods of the two Indies and be a recruiting ground for soldiers in that part of the world. While French rule in India was unstable, on the Great Island a solid empire could be built. By dominating Madagascar, the French could surpass the British in terms of power politics. Particularly promising about Madagascar was that – in contrast to the Caribbean a century earlier – the island was not deserted. It was therefore not necessary to import slaves from overseas. The Malagasy represented a labour force that was substantial, cheap and not entirely uneducated. These no longer savage barbarians were gentle, sociable and keen to imitate civilised and industrious peoples. They suffered under the tyranny of their princes, lived restlessly, waged senseless wars against each other and knew neither religion nor the pleasures of luxury. Their superstitiousness could be exploited to gain respect and authority among them. At the same time, however, they loved their freedom, and it was difficult to subjugate them by force of arms. For these reasons, one could, and should, be gentle with the Malagasy and show them the benefits of civilisation. By settling diligent farmers and craftsmen from Île Bourbon, Europe or Asia, the Malagasy would improve their knowledge of the arts, learn about the comforts of luxury and become more industrious. Marriages between Frenchmen and Malagasy women would help to breed new French citizens. In the medium term, Christianity would also prevail. In light of the prosperity, justice and security that a French colony would offer, the Malagasy would submit voluntarily. Previous attempts at expansion had failed due to the misguided violent policies of the

 The unprinted memoranda can be found in the following collections: ANOM, DFC, XVII/ mémoires/88 and MAD 159 207; MAE Asie 4; BnF, NAF no. 9344, 9345, 9381, 9413. For more details, see Appendix.

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governors, the fanatical zeal for conversion on part of the clerics and the tyrannical behaviour of the colonists.¹¹ In the memoranda, an order of discourse is apparent which, though not mandatory, seemed appropriate to many authors. In their writings, they presented information in a certain order that varied but slightly. At the beginning, the various French, Portuguese, Arabic and Malagasy names of the Great Island are mentioned (sometimes along with the circumstances of its “discovery” by the Portuguese), followed by its coordinates and remarks on its enormous dimensions (“la plus grande isle connue”). This is usually followed by an estimate of the population as well as information on climate and winds, supplemented by a description of existing and potential agricultural products, information on mining and other resources. Many authors follow this by describing the industriousness of the people and the cost of labour. They make statements about the customs and supposed character of the natives as well as about their expected behaviour in the future. After that, they usually address the history of earlier expansion projects and cite episodes from previous colonisation attempts to support what has already been said, before presenting plans for the establishment of a colony.¹² Thus, the authors of memoranda were first concerned with the location and classification of the island, then with the promise of profit, and finally with a particular method of colonisation and concrete steps to achieve it. Such an enumeration is based on a progression from the tangible to the intangible, and from what existed to what was planned. In this way, the process of description constructed the Great Island as an object of colonial planning. It is clearly the case here that knowledge production and claims to power were closely connected.

 For a chronologically ordered overview of the memoranda, see Appendix. Only a few typical memoranda are mentioned here: ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, Meunier, “Observations sur un nouveau plan d’établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar, par M. Duhamel Comte de Précourt colonel d’infanterie et ancien officier de la Compagnie des Indes demeurant en sa maison à Vineuil parc de Chantilly”, 26 August 1783; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 187, memorandum by Siette de La Rousselière, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Mémoire sur Madagascar, par Siette la Rousselière, daté du Port Nord-Ouest (Île de France) le 6 germinal an XI”, 27 March 1803; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61, “Projet de Millon d’un établissement françois à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/memoires/88, no. 87, “Monsieur de Kersalaün propose un projet d’établissement à Madagascar”, 1786 – 1787.  Examples: ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 3, document 3, no title, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61, memorandum by Millon, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 95, memorandum by Kerguelen, 28 October 1792.

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The differences between the memoranda are rather minor. The greatest disagreement was about the most suitable place for a colony, whether it was to be Fanjahira (Fr. Fanshere), Tôlanaro (Fr. Fort-Dauphin), Toamasina (Fr. Tamatave), Mahavelona (Fr. Foulpointe) or Antongil Bay.¹³ Even though no one objects to Catholic proselytation, only some authors emphasise that the conversion of the Malagasy to Catholicism is crucial for colonial expansion.¹⁴ One author disagrees with Maudave where the latter approves of marriages between French and Malagasy as conducive to colonisation.¹⁵ Occasionally, one finds a plan in the memoranda to establish a monopolistic trading company; after his return to Europe, Beňovský pursued this idea.¹⁶ Only one memorandum proposes the founding of a colony of soldiers and discusses the idea, formulated during the French Revolution, of civilising the Malagasy through the immigration of emancipated slaves or the deportation of French prisoners.¹⁷ Despite these divergences, however, in the vast majority of memoranda one can speak of a relatively uniform knowledge and concomitant proposals as well as of a Madagascar discourse that has become dominant in memoranda.

 ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 86, Cossigny to a clerk of the Ministry of the Navy, 1 January 1773; MAE Asie 4, nos. 74 (anonymous memorandum, n.d.), 75 (memorandum by Liniers, n.d.), 76 (memorandum by Meunier, 1784); NAF no. 9413, pp. 272– 278, “Mémoire de Kerguelen sur l’île de Madagascar”, 27 December 1773; MAD 150 207, “Observations sur Madagascar”, n.d.  The following stress the need for the Malagasy to convert to Catholicism: MAE, Asie 4, no. 76, fols. 192– 230, “Mémoire raisonné sur un nouvel établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar et les moyens motivés de la soumettre à la puissance du Roy. Par M. Duhamel comte de Precourt, colonel of infantry”, 1784, 214; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Observations sur Madagascar”, n.d.; for Maudave’s ideas on the colonial instrumentalisation of religion, see ANOM, C 5 A 2, 11, fol. 3, transcripts of documents on Madagascar; DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 2 f., Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 222, “Note sur les avantages d’un établissement à Fort Dauphin”, n.d.  For Beňovský’s project of a commercial company, see MAE, Asie 4, no. 65, “Prospectus pour former une compagnie de Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 83, “Projet pour former une compagnie pour l’isle de Madagascar. Benyowsky”, 9 September 1777; C 5 A 8 bis, no. 225, “Projet de M. de B. qui propose de former une compagnie à qui le roi concédera l’isle de Madagascar et les isles voisines et observations sur ce projet”, n.d. Cossigny also proposes the foundation of such a company; see C 5 A 3, no. 87, fol. 7, memorandum by Cossigny, 1 January 1773.  For the project of a colony of soldiers, see MAE, Asie 4, no. 76, fols. 192– 230, Meunier, “Mémoire raisonné sur un nouvel établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar”, 1784. For the immigration of former slaves, see A. N., D/XXV/130, dossier 1019, no. 5, “Projet d’un mode d’execution du décret du 16 pluviose an 2e”, 31 August 1795; Prentout, Decaen, 306. For Decaen’s project of civilising the Malagasy through deported prisoners, see Prentout, Decaen, 301– 309.

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The Discourse on Madagascar in the Ministry of the Navy In the French state apparatus, however, memoranda were only one genre among others. Usually, their authors were neither employed in ministries nor in the colonial administration but were outsiders who submitted their projects. To analyse the extent to which the central administration was influenced by the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse, it is necessary to turn to other types of sources. Most important are the notes by employees of the Ministry written for the minister to help him with decision-making, and the letters ministers and clerks exchanged with colonial actors on Île de France and in Madagascar. In examining the Madagascar discourse, we must ask what discussions were held about the correct policy towards the Great Island and also investigate the extent to which ministerial documents followed or, on the contrary, criticised the Madagascar discourse of Maudave, Beňovský, Lescallier and the memoranda. It is particularly important to determine possible differences between France and the Indian Ocean region regarding knowledge and opinions. Was there, for example, in addition to the Maudavian discourse, local knowledge of the inhabitants of the Indian Ocean that also influenced the French in the motherland? Finally, it will be asked in what follows whether the Ministry of the Navy showed itself capable of learning from the failures of the colonisation policy, and hence reconsidering the principles of its Madagascar policy. In a letter to the Minister of the Navy Praslin, the Intendant Poivre endorsed in principle the project of a “soft” expansion through a policy of colonisation and civilisation in Madagascar prior to Maudave’s arrival on the Great Island in 1768. Its implementation, however, seemed more difficult to Poivre than Maudave had promised. If the indigenous people were to be made French (“franciser”) through the display of better social order, higher morals and the Christian religion, one would, according to Poivre, have a settlement which would have cost very little and which would give irresistible power to France. To do so would require great skill, perseverance and a well-thought-out plan. In Poivre’s opinion, Maudave was convinced of these principles, was very enthusiastic and thus qualified for the task. Moreover, Poivre thought that it might even be an advantage that Maudave did not foresee the great difficulties he would encounter in his assimilation enterprise. Because, as the intendant summed up in his letter, what Maudave promised for the next few years could only be “the work of time”.¹⁸

 ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 54, fol. 2, Poivre to Praslin, 29 July 1768: “Pour réussir, il faudra qu’il opère dans l’esprit de ces peuples une révolution, qui ne peut être que l’ouvrage du temps”.

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What is striking about this document is that the intendant of Île de France initially shared Maudave’s ideas, despite his conviction that they would take a long time to implement. However, faced with the meagre results of trade, the costs of the settlement and Maudave’s incessant requests for goods and people, Poivre, within a few months, came to the conclusion that it was “premature” (“prématuré”) to start establishing a colony in Madagascar.¹⁹ He also thought it difficult for the relatively young colony of Île de France to meet all the needs of the new settlement on the Red Island.²⁰ Poivre was well aware of the disastrous situation on the Great Island and, at the beginning of February 1769, had sent to the Ministry of the Navy excerpts from a letter of 10 August 1768, in which the ship’s captain Vauquelin described the state of war in Anosy.²¹ In 1769 traders also informed the minister of the epidemic diseases that were killing many French people in Mahavelona.²² At the same time, Poivre followed Maudave’s positive description of the epidemiological situation in Tôlanaro. He also did not give up the idea that Maudave could recruit a company of native soldiers in Madagascar.²³ It was therefore not pure invention when the governor of Fort-Dauphin in his written defence against the attacks on his projects pointed out to Praslin, the Minister of the Navy, that Poivre’s opinions concurred with his own.²⁴ The new Governor Desroches who came to Île de France in 1769 painted a much more negative picture of Madagascar. In his opinion, an overview of expenditure and deaths in Fort-Dauphin over the previous twelve months showed that a transfer of settlers from Île de France to Madagascar would be a “chimera”, as he noted in his “Observations” to the Minister.²⁵ Desroches reported that he had obtained information from people who were knowledgeable about Madagascar. From them he had learned that the Malagasy were afraid of a permanent French settlement and that the local princes were hostile towards FortDauphin. The governor was convinced that numerous trade goods, soldiers and even seafarers could be obtained from Madagascar, though not until the peoples

 ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 17, fol. 1, Poivre to Praslin, 12 January 1769. Regarding the poor results of trade, also see ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 29, excerpts from letters by Steinauer and Poivre, 13 January 1769; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 35, Poivre to Praslin, 1 September 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 17, fol. 1 f., Poivre to Praslin, 12 January 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 19, excerpts from a letter by Vauquelin, 3 February 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 22, Bellecombe and Crémont to Praslin, 4 March 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 38, fol. 1 f., excerpts from letters by Poivre to Maudave, 28 October 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 39, Maudave to Praslin, 12 November 1769.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 10, fol. 1, Desroches to Praslin, 2 September 1769: “une chimère”.

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of the Great Island had made friends with the French and were convinced that the latter “did not [desire] an inch of their country”.²⁶ The extent to which subsequent intendants and governors of Île de France had an image of Madagascar similar to that of Desroches cannot be reliably reconstructed. Shortly after his arrival on Île de France in September 1773, Beňovský claims to have met with scepticism on the part of the Intendant Maillart and Governor Ternay, probably when he presented his plan to establish a large and rich “colony” on the Red Island.²⁷ Most definitely, Ternay and Maillart assumed that the establishment of a settlement in Madagascar would cause “considerable expenditure”.²⁸ They seem not to have been in any particular hurry to load Beňovský’s ship. Evidently, Madagascar at this time already had a devastating reputation on Île de France. Thus, the adventurer from Upper Hungary had difficulties recruiting craftsmen for his colony, probably due to a widespread fear of diseases.²⁹ Moreover, the apostolic prefect explained that he could not provide him with a parish priest.³⁰ In documents from Île de France for the years 1775 – 1776, in connection with the failure of the Antongil Bay settlements, the Great Island is often referred to as the “Tomb of the French” (“tombeau des Français”).³¹ One might therefore assume that as early as 1773, Ternay and Maillart did not expect anything good to come from a colonisation attempt in Madagascar. Their letters to the minister, however, paint a different picture. The governor never criticises Beňovský’s plans. On the contrary, he supports the latter’s idea to establish a settlement in Antongil Bay rather than in Toamasina.³² Ternay claim Ibid., fol. 1 f.: “Je suis persuadé qu’on pourroit tirer des soldats et meme des matelots de Madagascar, mais ce ne sera pas tandis que les peuples nous refusent des esclaves et des Bestiaux. Ce sera lorsque nous ferons voir que nous ne voulons que leur amitié et pas un pouce de leur terrain.”  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 158, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 25 September 1773.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 177, Ternay and Maillart to Boynes, 9 November 1773: “dépenses très considérables”.  For what Beňovský claims, see ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 14, p. 17, “Mémoire sur l’expédition de Madagascar”.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 158, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to Boynes, 25 September 1773.  Millon, Dumas, Bellecombe and Chevreau used this expression in the years 1775 – 1776; see ANOM, MAD 150 207, La Serre, “Mémoire sur Madagascar contenant les motifs déterminants d’y former un établissement, et la manière économique d’y procéder”, n.d.; ANOM, MAD 150 207, [Millon], “Projet d’un établissement français à Madagascar”, [1775], fol. 8; ANOM, MAD 150 207, “Travail concernant Madagascar”, “D. Extrait d’une lettre qui m’a été adressée par le S. Trévau”, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 8, fol. 32, diary of Bellecombe and Chevreau; C 5 A 5, no. 40, fol. 3, memorandum by Dumas, 6 May 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 160, Ternay to Boynes, 13 October 1773.

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ed that he himself had intended to submit a settlement project to the Minister of the Navy. After Beňovský’s arrival, however, the latter’s plan would be carried out which would have “much greater range”.³³ Ternay wrote that he would do everything in his power to contribute to the success of the venture.³⁴ Maillart also assured the Minister of the Navy that he had a favourable attitude towards Beňovský and his projects.³⁵ The behaviour of Governor Ternay and Intendant Maillart was also always in accordance with the instructions of the Minister. They even provided Beňovský with considerable aid, considering the limited means of their colony, and gave him advances without ever getting any acknowledgement of receipt. If they finally spoke out against Beňovský’s colonisation plans, it was because they were well informed about the true, desolate state of the settlement and did not want to bear the horrendous financial and human costs. However, there was never a question of sabotaging the settlement in Antongil Bay.³⁶ The French of the Indian Ocean often had a more accurate picture of the situation in Madagascar than the Ministry of the Navy, and this local knowledge trickled through in various letters from the administrators of Île de France to Paris and Versailles.³⁷ This did not necessarily mean that the inhabitants of the Mascarenes would have been united in their opposition to colonial expansion on the Red Island. Nevertheless, the knowledge of the difficulties that Maudave had encountered explains why, in contrast to his predecessor Praslin, Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, was no longer thinking of establishing a settler colony when he commissioned Beňovský in March 1773 to establish a settlement in Madagascar. Boynes thought that Maudave’s project to form a colony of Europeans was “based on false principles” as it would “violate the property rights [of the Malagasy] too much to be received with pleasure by [such] a people of shepherds and peasants”. Boynes therefore only thought of “a small station [un simple poste] with the help of which one could make useful connections with the chiefs of the region”.³⁸  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 175, Ternay to Boynes, 7 November 1773 (“beaucoup plus d’étendue”).  Ibid.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 177, Ternay and Maillart to Boynes, 9 November 1773.  See Chapter 4 and Cultru, Un empereur de Madagascar, 78 f., 103 – 126.  Thus, the ship’s captain Mengaud de la Hage reported to Governor Ternay and the Minister of the Navy in 1775 that the area of Tôlanaro was not suitable for colonisation as it was full of swamps, unhealthy and poor; see Archives nationales, MAR B 4 125, fols. 270 – 275, Mengaud de la Hage to the Minister of the Navy, 22 February 1775.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 42, fol. 1, Boynes to Ternay and Maillart, 19 March 1773: “On n’a pas tardé à s’appercevoir que cet établissement portoit sur de faux principes […]; au lieu d’une colonie dont les vues blesseroient trop ouvertement les droits de la propriété pour être

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At the same time, however, it becomes clear that the Minister of the Navy did not abandon Maudave’s project entirely. Rather, he was thinking of realising it in the long term: If one proceeds cautiously, one may hope one day to attain the goal proposed by Maudave and to found a more solid colony that will build on the islanders’ interest and the trust that will have been inspired in them.³⁹

One may therefore assume that the Minister of the Navy had not given up on the idea of a colonial expansion on the Great Island. This assumption is confirmed by the project of establishing a volunteer corps (volontaires de Benyovsky) of 30 December 1772, which was probably drafted by a clerk. The explicit goal of the “implementation of a plan” is mentioned “that has been developed for a long time with regard to Madagascar”, namely the civilising of the Malagasy.⁴⁰ According to Boynes, the colonisation attempt of 1768 – 1771 had failed because it was based “on false principles”, one that had followed “a spirit of conquest and domination”.⁴¹ However, by no means did the renunciation of a settler colony of “whites” imply for Boynes an abandonment of Maudave’s central objective of exercising authority over the Malagasy by virtue of the civilisation differential and of making them French in the long term. Information regarding the cost of a colony, the diseases, the armed conflicts and the lack of trade had not led to a fundamental questioning of Maudave’s images of Madagascar and the Malagasy. This may explain why, on the whole, the reactions in the Ministry of the Navy to Beňovský’s war reports were ambiguous. Certainly not everyone in Versailles seems to have been troubled by the fact that in his expansionist policy, the nobleman from Upper Hungary acted contrary to his instructions. Among those who did see this as a problem was undoubtedly the new Minister of the Navy, Anne-Robert Turgot. In July 1774 he condemned Beňovský’s undertakings in the strongest terms and ordered the commander of Louisbourg to abandon all

recue avec plaisir par un peuple pasteur et agricole, il ne doit être question que d’un simple poste à la faveur duquel on puisse former des liaisons utiles avec les principaux chefs du Pays.”  Ibid.: “en se conduisant avec prudence on peut espérer d’arriver un jour au but proposé par M. de Modave et de former une colonie d’autant plus solide qu’elle seroit fondée sur l’intérêt même des insulaires et sur la confiance qu’on leur auroit inspirée.”  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 78, fol. 1 f., “Projet d’emploi des services du baron de Benyowsky et de ses officiers pour le compte de la France à Madagascar”, 30 December 1772: “un plan qu’on a formé depuis longtemps sur l’Isle de Madagascar.”  Ibid., fol. 2: “Ce projet […] portoit sur de faux principes parce qu’il tenoit à un esprit de domination et de conquête.”

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projects of conquest and colonisation since they could only be carried out at great financial expense.⁴² However, as early as August of that year, the king transferred the Ministry of Finance to the physiocrat Turgot and appointed Sartine as the new Minister of the Navy. This change of personnel meant that Turgot’s letters to Beňovský and the administrators of Île de France were never sent.⁴³ Turgot’s letter makes clear that what truly disturbed him about Beňovský’s stories was that the reports about the wars suggested an explosion of cost. Turgot thus advocated a strict implementation of Boynes’ project. In his eyes, Louisbourg should be remain solely a trading post. Sartine struck a very different note from Turgot. In his letter to Beňovský of 17 July 1775, he expressed his satisfaction with the (alleged) opening of a route to the west coast and the establishment of settlements in the (equally allegedly) healthier interior, especially in the “Plaine de la Santé”. However, Sartine was satisfied not because he was open to an aggressive expansionist policy. Rather, his ideal, like Praslin’s and Boyne’s, was a “soft” policy that would lead to the civilising and integration of the Malagasy into the French nation in the long run. If Sartine was happy with Beňovský in the summer of 1775, it was because he believed that the man from Upper Hungary was following these principles. So, he urged the commander of Louisbourg to continue to be “soft” towards the Malagasy who were peaceful and industrious but, like all “uncivilised peoples”, loved their freedom very much. Therefore, the settlement could only have a solid basis if these peoples were treated “with gentleness and kindness” (“avec douceur et avec bonté”).⁴⁴ Sartine believed Beňovský when the latter wrote that thanks to wise measures, diseases were in decline in Madagascar.⁴⁵ Nor did the Minister of the Navy seem to have detected any problematic political developments on the Great Island. In retrospect, it seems astonishing that in his letters to Beňovský from the summer of 1775 to the spring of 1777, Sartine wrote nothing about the fundamentals of the direction of the Madagascar policy.⁴⁶ The minister expressed his ideas and wishes only in his letters from the end of March 1777, by which time Beňovský had already left Madagascar (which Sartine, however, could not have

 ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 65, Turgot and Ternay and Maillart, [July] 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 66, Turgot to Maillart, July 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 69, Turgot to Beňovsky´.  Cultru, Un empereur de Madagascar, 66 – 68.  ANOM, B 155, fol. 12, Sartine to Beňovsky´, 17 July 1775. Also see ANOM, B 155, fol. 16, Sartine to Beňovsky´ and Des Assises, 17 July 1775.  ANOM, B 155, fol. 18, Sartine to Saunier, 17 July 1775.  See the following letters: ANOM, B 155, fols. 15 – 40, Sartine to Beňovsky´, 12 July 1775 – 30 March 1777.

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known). In these letters, he showed himself satisfied with Beňovský’s (supposed) conquests. He praised the latter’s courage and judiciousness but especially his decision to attack the Sakalava. He wrote that he had taken note of the course of the campaign and the news of the victory with great joy.⁴⁷ At the same time, the minister admonished the commander of Louisbourg to employ the “means of gentleness and persuasion” from now on “to subdue the islanders”.⁴⁸ These heroic military exploits consumed the strength of the troops and were costly. The most important thing, according to the minister, was to avoid war so that trade and agriculture could flourish. Based on Beňovský’s triumphant reports, Sartine expressed satisfaction that the commander would soon devote himself to the pacification and civilising of the peoples; this could be understood as praise but, at the same time, also as an injunction.⁴⁹ The Minister of the Navy cherished a hope that the inhabitants of Antongil Bay would surrender voluntarily in view of the gentleness and prosperity that the French brought with them, as well as the superiority of French laws.⁵⁰ He did not rule out the possibility that Louis XVI might invest money in building a settler colony. Sartine tended towards a policy that Boynes and Turgot had renounced for reasons of cost. But first, an important question needed clarification: was Madagascar’s climate not far too dangerous for a settler colony? Sartine noted with satisfaction the alleged drying-up of the marshes around Louisbourg and the falling death rate, but he was not sure how the newcomers would cope with the “air”.⁵¹ So, by and large, the Minister of the Navy believed Beňovský’s lies.⁵² The damning reports of the administrators of Île de France do not seem to have raised any fundamental doubts in ministerial circles about the truth of Beňovský’s accounts. Commissioners Bellecombe and Chevreau were not sent to Madagascar because Beňovský’s statements were seriously doubted, but to check whether the “climate” would permit the establishment of a settler colony. The memoranda and letters of the Beňovský period show that the Minister of the Navy was far from alone in holding this view. Ministry officials uncritically conveyed to their superiors the tales of the commander of Louisbourg.⁵³ Private

 Third and fourth letter: ANOM, B 155, fol. 40 f., Sartine to Beňovsky´, 30 March 1777.  Third letter: ANOM, B 155, fol. 40, Sartine to Beňovsky´, 30 March 1777: “les moyens de douceur et de persuasion pour soumettre les insulaires”.  Ibid.  ANOM, B 155, fol. 42, Sartine to Beňovsky´, 6 April 1777.  Ibid., fol. 42 f.  ANOM, B 155, fol. 18 f., Sartine to Saunier, 17 July 1775.  See a communication from 1775 about the settlement in Madagascar in ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 40.

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individuals circulated fantastic news of victory and tales about Beňovský’s unsurpassed courage.⁵⁴ A clerk of the ministry, who reported on the matter, was not quite sure whether to believe such rumours but was clearly inclined to do so. In any case, he was convinced that Beňovský was a “rare and exceptional man who was made to bring about revolutions”.⁵⁵ Michel, the First Clerk, may have had a decisive influence on the perception among the ministerial elite of the situation in Madagascar.⁵⁶ In late 1775 and early 1776, he prepared for Sartine a whole series of excerpts from texts on Madagascar. Among them were Maudave’s letters and his revised diary; Millon’s memorandum, which largely repeated Maudave’s ideas; and letters from Béquet, a trade clerk, who was opposed to the settlement of Fort-Dauphin. In his letter to the Minister of the Navy, Michel reported that he had been surprised by the contradictory statements on Madagascar and, for this reason, had systematically compared the texts on the Great Island. Despite reading sources that held opposing views, Michel’s conclusion was clear: all authors with the exception of the trader Béquet defended the idea that Madagascar offered immense advantages for colonisation. Therefore, there could be no doubt that this was the case.⁵⁷ The willingness to follow not only Maudave, but even Beňovský, is all the more surprising since Sartine and his entourage also received information of a different kind from Île de France. The Ministry was warned by various people that Beňovský was a charlatan.⁵⁸ At the beginning of 1776, the trade clerk Béquet, who had many years of experience in Madagascar, was personally received by the First Clerk and the Minister of the Navy at Versailles and Fontainebleau. He was clearly against any colonisation plans.⁵⁹ Above all, Ternay and Maillart complained repeatedly about Beňovský’s strange ideas and stories. The governor reported that he had found so many contradictions in the letters of the commander of Madagascar that he could no longer believe anything that came

 ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 18, “Extrait d’une lettre ecrite de l’Île de France à M. de Behayne [Behague] relatant un acte de courage extraordinaire accompli par le baron de Benyowsky”, 24 December 1775.  For the report of a clerk of the Ministry of the Navy to Sartine, see ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 62, p. 2 f., 30 June 1776: “un homme rare et extraordinaire, fait pour les révolutions”.  For Michel, whose first name the sources do not reveal, see ANOM, E 313, personnel file of Michel.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, transcripts of documents on Madagascar.  Thus from an unknown “Monsieur de Lessart”; see ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 39, Lessart to Sartine, 5 May 1775.  See Béquet’s personnel file (ANOM, E 26) and Béquet’s letters in Michel’s compilation on Madagascar (ANOM, C 5 A 2 no. 11, p. 6 f.). Béquet was already active in the Madagascar trade for the French India Company in 1737: C 5 A 1, no. 53, anon. to directors of the company [?], n.d.

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from his pen. At the same time, Ternay became aware that the Minister of the Navy did not believe his statements about Madagascar and lamented this fact.⁶⁰ Actually, Maillart’s and Ternay’s viewpoints were discussed in the Ministry of the Navy but were considered less credible than Beňovský’s letters. For example, a clerk of the ministry saw in Maillart’s reports on out-of-control costs and chaos in Madagascar “only vague allegations” (“que des déclamations vagues”).⁶¹ In their joint letter of 16 August 1774, the governor and the intendant wrote that Beňovský had already lost 190 men; however, according to this clerk, the summary table sent by Beňovský showed that at that time, only 112 people had lost their lives.⁶² Beňovský also had an unknown “friend”⁶³ in the Foreign Ministry with whom he corresponded directly. This “très cher ami” circulated Beňovský’s news and maps.⁶⁴ He served as an intermediary between the commander of Madagascar and the First Clerk Leduc.⁶⁵ This obvious preference for Beňovský’s view of the situation in Madagascar over others explains the fact that in the summer of 1775, the Versailles Ministry of the Navy was in fact planning the establishment of an autonomous settler colony. A statement, presumably written by a clerk of the ministry, sees the future colony in Antongil Bay from where, as Beňovský had shown, the connection to the west coast was easy. Although the construction of a colony according to this statement was associated with high costs, this investment would pay off in the long run.⁶⁶ The Ministry of the Navy wrote instructions for Beňovský accordingly in which the minister apologised for not yet being able to send settlers

 ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 90, Ternay to Aiguillon, 6 September 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 116, Ternay to Boynes, 30 October 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 117, Ternay to Beňovsky´, 30 October 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 121, Maillart to the Minister of the Navy, 14 December 1774; C 5 A 5, no. 85, anon. to Ternay, 4 December 1775.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 50, fol. 2, excerpts from letters about Madagascar, n.d.  Ibid.  For the concept of friendship in the pre-modern era, see Kü hner, Christian, Politische Freundschaft bei Hofe. Repräsentation und Praxis einer sozialen Beziehung im französischen Adel des 17. Jahrhunderts, Göttingen 2013.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 50, Beňovsky´ to a “cher ami”, 18 September 1774; MAE, Asie 4, no. 55, Beňovsky´ to a “cher ami”, n.d.  Beňovský asked him, for example, to put Leduc’s coat of arms on one of the maps of his alleged settlement; see MAE, Asie 4, no. 49, Beňovský to a “cher ami”, 24 September 1774. For the person of Leduc, see Baillou, Les Affaires étrangères, 126 – 129.  For anonymous memorandum from June 1775, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 53, fol. 1 f., “Mémoire sur Madagascar”, June 1775.

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that year.⁶⁷ Sartine made Beňovský independent of the administrators of Île de France in July 1775.⁶⁸ At the same time, the clerks recorded a decree (ordonnance) that projected an increase in the size of the volunteer corps, even though some ministry officials opposed it, fearing that if he got more men, Beňovský might try to conquer the whole of Madagascar.⁶⁹ Furthermore, an intendant and a supreme council (Conseil supérieur) should be appointed to exercise judicial power.⁷⁰ Finally, another of Beňovský’s suggestions was followed and a decree was drafted that declared the trade of private individuals in Madagascar illegal.⁷¹ The willingness to believe Beňovský rather than Maillart, Ternay and Béquet shows that despite the bad experience with Tôlanaro, Maudave’s ideas concerning Madagascar had been firmly planted in the minds of the ministers of the Navy and their staff. It is, however, altogether astounding to note that even after Beňovský’s lies had been exposed by Bellecombe and Chevreau and these commissioners had vehemently opposed any colonial expansion,⁷² a part of the government elite was still willing to place Madagascar under the care of a trading company founded by Beňovský. At least Charles Gravier de Vergennes, who was both Foreign Minister and Chief Minister, was inclined to do so in 1783, as he informed Charles-Eugène-Gabriel de La Croix de Castries, the Minister of the Navy. Castries then reported to the king on Beňovský’s tireless courage, intelligence and great knowledge, which qualified him to lead a colony in Madagascar.⁷³ After Beňovský’s failure in Antongil Bay, there must also have been more sceptical opinions on the project of colonising Madagascar. All surviving texts of this kind are relatively short anonymous reports or letters. Thus, the anony ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 52, p. 17, Sartine to Beňovsky´, June 1775; C 5 A 5, no. 48, Sartine to Maillart and Ternay, Juni 1775; C 5 A 5, no. 49, instructions of the king to Beňovský, June 1775; C 5 A 5, no. 50, instructions of the king to Beňovský, June 1775.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 76, fol. 1, reflections by Bellecombe and Chevreau on Beňovský’s replies, October 1776.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 3, “Projet d’ordonnance pour augmenter les compagnies du corps des volontaires”, n.d., and no. 37, Sartine to Beňovsky´, May 1775; a statement against: ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 18, anon., n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 44, “Projet d’instructions relatives au Conseil provisoire et au réglement sur la justice à Madagascar”, June 1775; ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 45, “Lettres patentes du roi portant établissment d’un conseil provisoire à Madagascar”, June 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 51, “Ordonnance du roi interdisant aux particuliers de traiter librement à Madagascar”, June 1775; ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 62, Sartine to a yet-to-be-appointed intendant, July 1775.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 76, reflections by Bellecombe and Chevreau on Beňovský’s replies, October 1776.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, nos. 181 and 243.

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mous author of one such writes that “since Flacourt […] a hundred systems have been built up with regard to Madagascar”,⁷⁴ and still, one had only insufficient knowledge about this island. Though the indigenous people were gentle and sociable, it remained uncertain whether the establishment of settlements should go ahead. One should not forget that Beňovský’s arrival had brought trade to a standstill. According to this writer, the authors of the memoranda painted the island more beautifully than it actually was. Yet, even though he was initially sceptical about Beňovský’s expansionist policy, he, too, proposed the establishment of a colony of military men, farmers and traders in Toamasina.⁷⁵ Other memoranda written against Beňovský and his settlement were also critical of his forced expansionist policy. They underline that the “climate” was dangerous for Europeans and that the natives resisted, but fundamentally, they adhered to Maudave’s image of the Malagasy. The author of another anonymous text, for example, assumed that the inhabitants of the Great Island were gentle, humane, hard-working, eager to learn, bold and freedom-loving. Therefore, since all plans for conquest were met with resistance from the Malagasy, one should confine oneself to the establishment of a trading station as envisaged in the project of Minister Boynes who had sent Beňovský to the Indian Ocean. The present settlements should be abandoned.⁷⁶ Other opinions basically approved of the idea of a soft colonisation but considered the establishment of a “white” settler colony impractical, at least for the time being, due to disease and the difficult security situation.⁷⁷ One author, for example, was critical of a memorandum by the Chevalier de La Serre reminiscent of Maudave’s texts, and emphasised the unhealthy climate. At the same time, however, he declared La Serre’s views to be correct in many respects.⁷⁸ In the 1770s and 1780s, the three memoranda that were most critical of the Madagascar discourse outlined above take the view that considering tropical diseases, settlements in Madagascar could never be profitable.⁷⁹

 ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Madagascar” [noted in pencil: C 19 28], n.d., fol. 1: “Depuis Flacourt […], on a bâti cent systèmes sur Madagascar”.  Ibid.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Carton no. 10, no. 41”, n.d.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Réflexion sur le commerce de l’Inde”, n.d.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “À Monsieur D… seul s’il lui plait. Analise en bref sur les mémoires de M. le chevalier de L[a] S[erre]”, n.d.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Observations sur le mémoire remis par ordre de Mgr. le Comte d’Artoix”, n.d.; C 5 A 8 bis, no. 245, anon., “Mémoire sur Madagascar, déconseillant expressément d’y maintenir un établissement”, n.d.; C 5 A 8 bis, no. 248, “Mé-

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In the revolutionary period, the dominance of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse came to an end and new types of expansion plans emerged. Nevertheless, the “offices” of the Ministry of the Navy seem to have continued largely under the influence of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse. The pluralisation of Madagascar images stemmed rather from the fact that the Ministry of the Navy lost the monopoly on Madagascar policy: Benoît Gouly was not employed by the ministry but was a deputy for Île de France in the National Convention. The Ministry of the Navy seems to have been sceptical about his plans, as the correspondence between Gouly and the clerk shows. During the Directory and the Consulate, it was mainly under the influence of Daniel Lescallier. After his return to France in 1797, Lescallier headed up the colonial section (bureau des colonies) of the Ministry of the Navy, and he held other high posts in the naval administration. In this capacity, he presented to the Directory in 1797 his reflections on the East Indies and Madagascar policy, which the Minister of the Navy, Georges-René Pléville Le Pelley, adopted as his own.⁸⁰ Documents held in the archives of the State Secretariat of the First Consul Napoléon Bonaparte clearly show that Forfait, Pléville’s successor as Minister of the Navy, listened to Lescallier.⁸¹ In fact, Bonaparte’s coup had meant another career step for Lescallier, who now sat on the Conseil d’État and was thus jointly responsible for formulating the laws that the government wanted to see enforced. Lescallier was allowed to present to the First Consul his projects for Madagascar (which were inspired by Maudave) and refer to the oath of 1792.⁸² The instructions that Forfait subsequently drafted for Louis-Thomas Villaret de Joyeuse were inspired by Lescallier.⁸³ Only in the nineteenth century was the project to civilise and assimilate the Malagasy fundamentally called into question and even considered by some officials to be “the height of human irrationality” (“le comble de la déraison humaine”).⁸⁴ In summary, it may be said that the contemporary statements about Madagascar that were communicated to the French imperial administration were inmoire sur les établissements successifs fondés à Madagascar et considérations pessimistes sur la possibilité d’en fonder un durable et profitable”, n.d.  Wanquet, “La première abolition de l’esclavage”, 94.  Lescallier and Forfait knew each other well; see Wanquet, “La première abolition de l’esclavage”, 94.  A. N., AF IV 1187, no. 94, “Marine. Bureau du ministre”, 14 February 1800, and AF IV 1211, no. 110, [Lescallier], “Affaires secrètes – Mémoire sur l’Inde”, n.d.  ANOM, C 4 113, fol. 124, “Instructions pour les citoyens Villaret-Joyeuse et Lequoy-Montgiraud”, March 1800.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Isle de Madagascar”, n.d. This memorandum was probably written by Sylvain Roux in the 1810s.

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consistent. In the eyes of those men who were active in the Indian Ocean region especially, two factors could make the project of colonising the Great Island fail, namely the “climate” and the resistance of the natives to any colony. Nevertheless, even the most critical of these voices did not question in principle the project of a soft colonial expansion. All imperial actors assumed that members of “civilised peoples” enjoyed a natural authority among “barbarians”, which enabled them to dominate through civilisation. These ideas were shared by the ministerial elite who, for this reason, never abandoned Maudave’s project entirely until the period of the Consulate. Based on these widely-accepted ideas, Beňovský’s imaginary conquest of the Red Island seemed plausible. Overall, the French colonial administration’s resistance to learning was pronounced. The absence of a learning process can be observed over several decades. Even though due to the negative experiences with the settlements of Fort-Dauphin and Antongil Bay, ministerial staff repeatedly backed away from the idea of colonising Madagascar with “white” settlers, the basic assumptions that made a “soft” colonial expansion seem an attractive option was never seriously questioned. The frequent change of management personnel was also detrimental to the learning process. Time and again the new ministers were persuaded by the prevailing topoi about Madagascar. Repeatedly they even reckoned with colonies that did not, or did no longer, exist. Consequently, one may speak of a late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse: a linguistic formation that not only justified claims to power but also limited the field of what could be said. Compared to the knowledge of the seventeenth century, the late Enlightenment knowledge about Madagascar was characterised by a number of taboos, which will be examined in more detail below.

9 Taboos of Enlightenment Colonialism In his book Unfabling the East: The Enlightenment’s Encounter with Asia (Die Entzauberung Asiens), Jürgen Osterhammel assesses positively the perceptions that Enlightenment thinkers had of other parts of the world. In his opinion, the Enlightenment led to a convergence in the experiences of the peoples of the world. It discovered a more realistic Asia, “demystified” this continent like all the other regions of the world, recognised the fundamental equality of all civilisations and religions, and criticised colonialism.¹ At the same time, Osterhammel observes that the normative charge of the notion of civilisation in the eighteenth century increasingly led to a construction of Asia as an immobile continent and to a silencing of Asians, that is, to a disappearance of Asian voices from European texts.² If one considers that the normativity of “civilisation” was fed precisely by the claim of European authors to be enlightened – and thus was directly related to the Enlightenment in the narrowest sense of the word —, the question arises whether the Enlightenment did indeed have such a “demystifying” effect. Such a perception of the history of ideas of the eighteenth century appears to be based on an implicit normative and circular definition of the Enlightenment. Historians often select those authors who come closest to their own idea of a progressive Enlightenment in order to claim in a circular argument that these “Enlightenment thinkers par excellence” show the true face of the Enlightenment.³ In the case of eighteenth-century knowledge of Madagascar, the observations of the previous chapters suggest the hypothesis that rather than a demystification, there was a mystification of this part of the world. The present chapter aims to test the scope of this hypothesis further and to explore the question of how, and in what areas, the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse limited the vision of French actors. A comparison with texts from the seventeenth century will show that the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse led to the concealment of numerous phenomena. It established a purely textual knowledge that developed parallel to, and also obliterated, the realities of the French-Malagasy encounters. In other words, a new silencing occurred during the late En-

 Osterhammel, Jü rgen, Die Entzauberung Asiens. Europa und die asiatischen Reiche im 18. Jahrhundert, Mü nchen 1998, especially 18 f., 75, 143 f., 401.  Ibid., 375 – 401.  See, for example, ibid., 75. Another example: Darnton, Robert, George Washington’s False Teeth. An Unconventional Guide to the Eighteenth Century, New York 2003. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-011

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lightenment which, unlike in Said’s model,⁴ was not based on a construction of alterity but on expectations of assimilation. The late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse can be seen as a “conceptual machinery”, to use Luckmann and Berger’s term, which gives foreign constructions of reality and symbolic universes a negative ontological status, thereby theoretically liquidating them.⁵ The study of late Enlightenment Madagascar knowledge thus makes a contribution to so-called agnotology, a discipline that studies the creation of ignorance. As the founders of this line of research emphasise, in the colonial context especially, knowledge was often not transferred from the periphery to the centre because ignorance was actively constructed.⁶ Although the new knowledge about Madagascar in the motherland was the result of a transfer from the periphery to the centre, Maudave and Beňovský had deliberately created it for the purpose of manipulating the motherland. For this reason, these two representatives of the French Crown in Madagascar chose strategies of writing and information which largely led to the concealment of their practices and experiences as well as of the knowledge of the French in the Indian Ocean. In what follows, different segments of the local culture, societies and experiences are considered which largely disappeared from French sources for about fifty years, namely notions and practices of violence, of going native, of social hierarchisations and of relations with the invisible world.

Violence A comparison between the narratives of the seventeenth century and those of the eighteenth century reveals differences in the depictions of violence. Maudave’s account of the failed expedition against Ramihongars points to the author’s reluctance to talk about violence. Ramihongars was a prince of the Manampanihy Valley (Fr. vallée d’Amboulle) who, according to Maudave, was “insolent” towards the French. The governor of Fort-Dauphin reports that the latter once asked for an escort for zebus that he wanted to sell to the French. When the French soldiers arrived in his village, he told them that he had no cattle to sell but had only wanted to see “white” people. Moreover, Ramihongars proudly told several people that his ancestors had slaughtered the French and had given  Said, Orientalism.  Luckmann/Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, 96 – 107.  See Proctor, Robert N., “Agnotology. A Missing Term to Describe the Cultural Production of Ignorance (and Its Study)”, in: Proctor, Robert N./Londa Schiebinger (eds.), Agnotology. The Making and Unmaking of Ignorance Stanford 2008, 1– 33, as well as the preface to this anthology.

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them to the dogs to eat and that they still deserved the same fate. Finally, the village elder robbed a doctor from Fort-Dauphin. Faced with all this chicanery, which contradicted his self-image as a colonial master, Maudave decided to kidnap Ramihongars in October 1770. He sent forty men to the Manampanihy Valley where they engaged in a battle with the locals in Ramihongars’ village but failed to capture the Roandriana prince and had to flee. The French lost at least four men on an arduous flight through the mountains, and three more deserted. The commanding officer was seriously injured.⁷ The language that Maudave employs in his account of this disastrous expedition is strikingly full of euphemisms. For example, he does not admit that he had wanted to capture Ramihongars but merely “to get him to visit us”.⁸ It becomes clear that for the governor of Fort-Dauphin, any conflict with the natives was extremely unpleasant because it might challenge his master narrative about the voluntary submission of the Malagasy. For this reason, Maudave tried to portray the failed military expedition to the Manampanihy Valley in such a way that it would not jeopardise his status as an authority vis-à-vis the Malagasy in the eyes of his superiors. He therefore related that Ramihongars had voluntarily surrendered while his men were chasing the French expeditionary corps through the mountains of the region. What led Ramihongars to this sudden change of heart at the very moment that he defeated the French, Maudave, however, leaves in the dark and consequently, this story seems hardly credible. Moreover, according to the governor of Fort-Dauphin, “all the blacks of Anosy” had hurried to Fort-Dauphin to help the French. Given the isolation of the French settlement, doubts also about this story are justified.⁹ Beňovský’s texts likewise offer a euphemistic view of violence. Even though his reports contain numerous war episodes, the commander of Louisbourg was careful to present himself as someone who always tried to avoid bloodshed. In the Mémoire he wrote for the Ministry of the Navy, Beňovský affirms that he had initially done everything in his power to avoid war with the Zafirabe. When, nevertheless, they moved against him, he claims that he placed himself unarmed in their midst in order to negotiate with them and that this almost cost him his life. Beňovský further relates that in the war that followed, he always sent prisoners home with peace proposals. When he besieged enemies, he provided them with food and alcohol, and when he attacked the Zafirabe and their allies, he had always fired his cannons in the air first to warn them  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 52, fols. 1– 3, Maudave to Boynes, 9 February 1771 (“insolence de Ramihongars”).  Ibid., fol. 2.: “l’engager à venir nous voir”.  Ibid., fol. 3: “Tous les noirs d’Anossy ont accourus au Fort”.

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as his intention was not to commit a massacre. After the victory, he had shown mercy.¹⁰ In contrast, the colonial actors of the seventeenth century had no qualms about describing acts of violence committed by the French, including themselves.¹¹ Indeed, Louis XIV and Colbert emphasised repeatedly that raiding was preferable to the purchase of goods with silver coins.¹² The printed narratives of the time read largely like stories of almost continuous wars and massacres. While nothing credible about his probably brutal conduct of the war may be learned from Beňovský’s writings, Flacourt already in the preface to his Histoire proudly reported that he had burnt down over fifty villages in two years and thus forced the natives of the region into submission.¹³ Whether or not this figure is correct cannot be verified, yet this very statement reveals that in Flacourt’s eyes, the destruction of enemy settlements should be seen as a positive achievement. For the authors of the seventeenth century, the necessity to plunder the region for food justified the devastation.¹⁴ In addition, there were, in their eyes, legitimate punitive expeditions against princes who, for example, had killed a Frenchman, stolen zebus or who had refused to pay tribute.¹⁵ The violent confrontations reported by the sources of the seventeenth century hardly fulfil the criteria for a just war. Not only did the French participate in the conflicts between the Zafiraminia and the Anteony (the Antaimoro elite) for supremacy in the south-east of the Red Island,¹⁶ but also a war broke out because Frenchmen cruelly mutilated and killed a “Negro” who had stolen goods of little value.¹⁷ Moreover, Flacourt relates that Governor Pronis demanded  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 14, p. 24 f., 46 f., 80 f., 83, 86, 88 f., 103, “Mémoire détaillé concernant l’établissement royal de Madagascar, confié à M. le Baron de Bényowsky”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 16, fol. 1, “Extrait d’une lettre de messieurs de Faye et Caron”, 14 October 1667; ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 19, p. 4 f., report on Madagascar, 10 February 1668.  ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 26, fol. 4, Ludwig XIV to Mondevergue, 19 January 1669; ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 30, fol. 2, Colbert to Mondevergue, 9 March 1669.  Flacourt, Étienne de, Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar, ed. Claude Allibert, Paris 2007, 263.  Ibid.., 311, 321, 324– 327; Froidevaux, Un explorateur inconnu, 30 f.; Souchu de Rennefort, Relation du premier voyage, 80, 93, La Haye, Journal, 84; [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 64 f., 67, 72, 184 f. For the Malagasy of the south-east as for the French, the war had an economic function, as the kings appropriated zebus and slaves through the raids; see Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, 269; Kent, “Religion and State”, 283.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 314; Souchu de Rennefort, Relation du premier voyage, 78; [Du Bois], Voyages, 77 f.; La Haye, Journal, 54– 56; Cauche, Relations, 69 – 73.  For the interference of the French in the conflict between Zafiraminia and Anteony, see Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, 252.  Cauche, Relations, 100 f.

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from King Dian Ramach the head of Razau, the lover of his Malagasy wife. Pronis threatened war, secured Razau’s execution and did indeed receive his head. However, Razau was Dian Ramach’s brother, so Pronis’ demands were a decisive factor in bringing about an armed conflict with this powerful king.¹⁸ From the viewpoint of the doctrine of the just war, the most honourable war was that waged against Dian Mananghe by the French around 1665, which had been started by the missionary Father Étienne’s burning of “idols”.¹⁹ These wars are portrayed in all their cruelty. Flacourt and Carpeau du Saussay relate how the French also massacred women and children.²⁰ The French received many heads of enemies from their Malagasy allies, cut off not a few themselves and displayed them on pikes. They sometimes refused to hand over these heads to the relatives of the deceased.²¹ Some of Flacourt’s comments testify to a martial insensitivity, which in his time probably did not violate any social norm. Upon receiving the heads of two “chiefs”, he remarks laconically that they “had a distinguished appearance”.²² Rennefort in particular writes the opposite of a heroic history of the French expansion. He speaks of the “French yoke”²³ and considers disastrous such an unwise war policy.²⁴ In his narrative, no Frenchman really comes off well, with the exception of La Case alias Dian Pousse.²⁵ Rennefort accuses Governor Champmargou of waging war against Dian Mananghe instead of seeking an alliance with him.²⁶ He claims that in order to finance their mission, the missionaries also sent their employees to help in the plundering.²⁷ Rennefort’s war narratives contain details that make the French look quite ridiculous. He reports, for example, that a sentry shot a black cow at night, which he took to be a spy. The French thereupon promptly arose and eagerly prepared for battle.²⁸ Nevertheless, Rennefort is by no means opposed to the use of violence. He calls for an

 Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 276 – 277, 440 – 441.  Souchu de Rennefort, Relation du premier voyage, 81– 92, 108 f., 118 – 124; [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 186 – 193.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 314, 327; [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 205, 237.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 326, 339, 351 f., 364; Cauche, Relations, 68.  “On m’apporta les deux têtes qui avaient très bonne façon”: Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 344.  Souchu de Rennefort, Relation du premier voyage, 145: “le joug des Français”.  Ibid., 124 f.  Ibid., 170 – 172.  Ibid., 147– 152.  Ibid., 78.  Ibid., 153.

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offensive expansion policy which requires both military strength and skill.²⁹ In his writings, the plundering campaigns of La Case especially become truly heroic episodes.³⁰ In contrast to later authors, those of the time of Louis XIV also go into detail about the conduct of war by the princes of Anosy. They report that the Malagasy waged war almost continuously. The Malagasy did not fight open battles but used guerrilla tactics and plundered foreign territories.³¹ These accounts contrast with the proposition often found in the texts of the Age of Enlightenment according to which the Malagasy were gentle and shy.³² A comparison of the texts from the seventeenth century with those from the second half of the eighteenth century shows that the late Enlightenment discourse of the voluntary subjection of the Malagasy aroused a sense of unease about violence that the French had not felt a century earlier.

Frontiersmen The narratives of the seventeenth century differ from the texts of Maudave and Beňovský not only in how they deal with violence. In the narratives of Flacourt, Rennefort and Carpeau, though not in the writings of Maudave and Beňovský, cultural frontiersmen also play a major role. The dual affiliation of the frontiersmen to both French and Malagasy society mainly resulted from French men marrying Malagasy women.³³ According to Du Bois, the majority of the colonists married local women. Rennefort and Carpeau make such a man, La Case, the true hero of their narrative.³⁴ Flacourt moreover reports that several Europeans had left Fort-Dauphin to join the Malagasy. He tells of a certain Ranicaze, a Frenchman who mastered the Malagasy language and became a follower of Prince Dian Tserongh. According to Flacourt, Ranicaze adopted the customs and “superstitions” of the country and knew no fatherland other than Madagascar. The French governor employed him to trade with the natives, but Ranicaze, Flacourt contin-

 Ibid., 184.  Ibid., 231– 239, 249 – 250, 393 – 394.  Cauche, Relations, 266 – 270; Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 127, 185 – 189.  Lescallier, “Mémoire relatif à l’île de Madagascar”, 880, 888; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 47, fol. 6, Maudave to the Minister of the Navy, 28 August 1770; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 3, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767; BnF, NAF 9413, fol. 269, “Mémoire sur Madagascar”, n.d.  [Du Bois], Voyages, 153.  Souchu de Rennefort, Relation du premier voyage, 102– 121, 231– 233; [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 184– 186, 216, 223, 230 – 234.

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ues, betrayed the French and lured them into a trap so that they could be massacred.³⁵ Among the French and the Malagasy also lived a Persian named Dian Lalau, who had married the daughter of a Zafiraminia. Flacourt recounts that Dian Lalau had served the French faithfully at the time, but after the departure of the governor and the death of Jacques Pronis, he was murdered by the French as an alleged traitor in 1655. Because he was a Muslim, he was refused burial.³⁶ No less remarkable is the case of Jacques Pronis, the first governor of Fort-Dauphin. Flacourt not only reports on Pronis’ marriage to Dian Ravel and the associated conflicts with the French soldiers, but he also mentions the conflicts of loyalty that Pronis faced when the French waged war against his new relatives. Pronis by no means always decided in favour of the French. Sometimes, he warned his family members of deceptions and gave them rifles, which cost the lives of many of his compatriots.³⁷ Why do the narratives of the second half of the eighteenth century not tell of similar fates? This cannot be because there were no transcultural frontiersmen, as the stories of La Bigorne and Diard show. Diard in particular had acted less like a representative of the French administration and more like a member of a Betsimisaraka family who was hostile to Iavy. He switched between worlds just as he changed his name and clothes. The life stories of La Bigorne and Diard show that even in the eighteenth century, no sharp dividing line may be drawn between the Malagasy and the French. Rather, transnational family ties and alliances emerged, which could be an instrument in the hands not only of merchants but also of governors, but which also often undermined the official political line and destabilised the region. Decades of a French presence on the east coast of Madagascar had produced a hybrid world in which loyalties were often linked more to a clan than to one’s status as a subject of the Betsimisaraka king or the king of France. Also in the eighteenth century, numerous French traders married into Malagasy families without a church wedding.³⁸ The King of Toamasina Jean-René was a scion of such a French-Malagasy marriage. One may ask whether the silence about the phenomenon of frontiersmen in the representations from the second half of the eighteenth century and the early

 Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 311, 320 – 321. Flacourt mentions yet another Frenchman who, like Ranicaze, wanted to betray his countrymen in order to make common cause with the “Negroes”; see ibid., 372– 374. Also see the story of a Dutchman named Sibran who joined the king of Fanjahira in ibid., 305. For La Case’s alliance policy with Antaimoro princes from southeastern Madagascar, also see Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, 240.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 365, 404.  Ibid, 309, 317. Pronis bore the Malagasy name “Rajac”: ibid., 323.  Mayeur, Voyage dans le nord, 142; Tombe, Voyage aux Indes orientales, 89.

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nineteenth century was not connected to the fact that the authors of colonial projects during the Enlightenment period felt more uneasy about such cases than their compatriots a century earlier. As early as the seventeenth century, marriages with Malagasy were often viewed with suspicion because they led to conflicts of loyalty. The discourse of colonial expansion through civilisational authority, however, did not foresee how such conflicts could arise in the first place. In this sense, too, the idea of a compelling civilisational superiority limited the field of what could be said about the options for action in the French-Malagasy encounter. This phenomenon is evident in the way Maudave wrote about mixed FrenchMalagasy marriages. For the governor of Fort-Dauphin, such marriages were a project, not a reality; at no point did he mention the then widespread practice of French-Malagasy life partnerships. And yet, French-Malagasy marriages had a firm place in his expansion project as an instrument of a civilising policy. For him, mixed marriages were “a soft but very powerful means of subjugating all [i. e. all Malagasy, D. T.] in time”.³⁹ This objective meant that Maudave did not foresee either the lasting cultural hybrids or changeable identities and loyalties.⁴⁰ He did not perceive or acknowledge that French-Malagasy marriages produced people who had a choice between cultures and camps and could therefore position themselves as they saw fit in conflicts. In the French sources dealing with civilisation projects, the scant interest in the phenomenon of French-Malagasy hybridisation, and the questions of loyalty accompanying it, is striking. This is still the case in the first half of the nineteenth century, despite Jean-René’s success.⁴¹

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 19, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.: “un moyen doux, mais très puissant de tout subjuguer avec le tems [sic]”.  Maudave at most allows the idea of a temporary racial mixture: ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 28, fol. 2, memorandum by Maudave, 6 December 1767.  In many texts from the period immediately after 1816 – 1817, Jean-René remains unmentioned, for example in the “Note sur Madagascar” and “De la situation des français à Madagascar, de l’établissement de l’île de Sainte Marie et du port du Teinteingue”, both in ANOM, MAD 150 207. Also see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/89, no. 101, memorandum by Mackau, 24 December 1818, and no. 104, letter from Dixion to Roux, 1818. A history of the French settlements in Madagascar, printed in 1836 at the behest of the Minister of the Navy, mentions Jean-René but overlooks his French-Malagasy ancestry; see Précis sur les établissements français formés à Madagascar. Imprimé par ordre de l’amiral Duperré, pair de France, ministre secrétaire d’État de la marine et des colonies, Paris 1836, 20, 23 f.

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Indigenous Knowledge and Racial Categorisation There are indications that the narrative of a civilising of the Malagasy through colonial expansion prevented the adoption of indigenous knowledge by the French. The French traveller Jean-Baptiste Fressanges claimed in 1809 that Flacourt had observed the traditional practices of the Malagasy very poorly, for he had said that they practised atrocious customs.⁴² However, in contrast to Flacourt’s notes and other seventeenth century sources, Fressanges’ writings as well as other texts of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century conveyed very little of Malagasy cultures and societies. During the reign of Louis XIV, Flacourt had depicted the politico-social categories of Anosy society. According to him, the inhabitants of the region were classified based on two criteria, one “racial”, the other “social”: first, whether they were “white” or “black” and second, depending on the caste to which they belonged within these two major groups. Here, “white” does not mean European, but indigenous people from families of mainly Southeast Asian origin. As recent research has emphasised, the distinction between “white” (fotsy) and “black” (mainty) was a question of ritual purity and related conceptions of the cosmos rather than a clear racial classification.⁴³ We learn from Flacourt that the “whites” were composed of Roandriana (“grandees”), Anakandriana (descendants of “grandees” on the paternal side, but not on the maternal side) and “Ondzatsi” (“whites” who, in contrast to the Roandriana and the Anakandriana, were not “pure” enough to slaughter animals). The “blacks” included Voadziri (literally “ministers”, the name given to an elite of mainly African origin who assisted the “whites” in government as “grandees”), Lohavohits (literally “village elders”), Ontsoa (villagers with ancestor worship) and Andevo (unfree peasants without ancestors). Among them, only the Voadziri were considered pure enough to slaughter animals. Flacourt moreover reports on the Islamically-influenced creation and origin myths on the Great Island. According to a Malagasy myth, God created from different parts of Adam’s body several women, to whom individual social groups

 Fressanges, J. B., “Voyage à Madagascar”, in: Annales des voyages, de la géographie et de l’histoire ; ou Collection des voyages nouveaux les plus estimés, traduits de toutes les langues européennes ; des relations originales, inédites, communiquées par des voyageurs français et étrangers ; et des mémoires historiques sur l’origine, la langue, les mœurs et les arts des peuples, ainsi que sur le climat, les productions et le commerce des pays jusqu’ici peu ou mal connus, ed. M. Malte-Brun, vol. 2: Contenant les cahiers XXV à XVII, Paris 1809, 4, 8.  Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 67– 69. For example among the Tanala; see Beaujard, “Islamisés et systèmes royaux”, 268 f., 280.

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Fig. 8: “White” and “black” Malagasy.

could be traced. We also learn that the most important families of the region claimed descent from Mecca (and some also from Medina and Mangalore). Finally, Flacourt explains a whole series of social practices that produced social hierarchies: the privilege of the white upper class to wear gold and the colour red; the symbolic significance of certain hairstyles; and the complex rules about who could touch whom or who could eat with whom. All of these elements, which can be found again in later sources from other regions, draw the picture of a politico-social ideology that was strongly influenced by the South Asian Indian-Muslim synthesis, which also predominates in Malay and Javanese chronicles.⁴⁴ With all its detail, Flacourt’s book is an exception even for the seventeenth century. However, traces of these indigenous categories can also be found in other authors of Louis XIV’s time. Cauche, Rennefort, Du Bois, Dellon as well

 Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 154– 159; Rakotoarisoa, Mille ans d’occupation humaine, 99 – 103.

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Fig. 9: A Roandriana with his wife carried by slaves.

as the missionaries Charles Nacquart, Jean-François Mousnier, Toussaint Bourdaise and Nicolas Étienne all distinguish between native “whites” and “blacks”,⁴⁵ and engravings depicting these “white” Malagasy were printed in seventeenthcentury books. In Flacourt’s Histoire, an engraving shows two idealised families: “white” and “black” village chiefs along with wife and child. While the latter are dark-skinned, the former do not show any physical differences to Europeans (Fig. 8). In other engravings in this work (Figs. 9 and 10), the Malagasy even ap-

 Galibert (ed.), À l’angle de la Grande Maison, 19 – 21, 206, 309; Cauche, Relations, 10; [Du Bois], Voyages, 108; Souchu de Rennefort, Relation du premier voyage, 238; Rennefort, Histoire des Indes orientales, 148; Dellon, Charles, Nouvelle Relation d’un voyage fait aux Indes orientales, contenant la description des îles de Bourbon et de Madagascar, de Surate, de la côte de Malabar, de Calicut, de Tanor, de Goa, etc. Avec l’histoire des plantes et des animaux qu’on y trouve, et un traité des maladies particulières aux pays orientaux et dans la route, et de leurs remèdes, par Dellon, docteur en médecine, Amsterdam 1699, 22. Portuguese missionaries also made this distinction; see Kent, “Religion and State”, 281.

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pear predominantly as “whites” who correspond to the classical European ideal of the body.⁴⁶

Fig. 10: Subjugation of the inhabitants of the Province of Anosy.

The 1722 edition of Carpeau’s narrative contains engravings of “white” Malagasy which follow the depictions in Flacourt’s book (Figs. 11 and 12), and one looks in vain for African-looking people.⁴⁷ By contrast, in Grasset de Saint-Sauveur’s great survey work on the “current civilian costumes of all known peoples” (Costumes civils actuels de tous les peuples connus, 1784– 1788) sixty years later, the Malagasy appear as darker-skinned, whereby the engraver, in accordance with the aesthetic principles of the Ro-

 See the unpaginated illustration section of Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle.  [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, illustrations between pages 246 and 247 as well as 248 and 249.

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coco period, gave the woman lighter skin than the man (Figs. 13 and 14).⁴⁸ While the man is “black” and has short curly hair, the woman is distinguishable from a French woman only by her darker, though not “black”, complexion. Her dress appears quite European, and the closeness to the paintings of the Rococo period is reinforced by the fact that the colourist gave her blonde hair. The authors of the eighteenth century use a different terminology from that of their predecessors in the seventeenth century. From Flacourt they adopt the distinction between “white”, “foreign” Arabs in Anosy and the “indigenous” “black” population.⁴⁹ In their texts, however, they almost always use the term “whites” to refer to Europeans, while the indigenous people almost always appear as “blacks”.⁵⁰ Maudave, for example, sees the inhabitants of Anosy as “Negroes”, although he was well able to differentiate when describing a specific person. Thus, he does not describe Maimbo’s skin as “black” but as “copper-coloured”.⁵¹ In the late eighteenth century, this last term became increasingly widespread for those population groups that had been called “whites” in the sources of the seventeenth century.⁵² This renewed differentiation between two “races” in Madagascar can be traced back to Mayeur’s influence. Beňovský’s interpreter was one of the first to notice a similarity between the inhabitants of the Madagascan highlands

 Grasset de Saint-Sauveur, Jacques, Costumes civils actuels de tous les peuples connus, dessinés d’après nature, gravés et coloriés, accompagnés d’une notice historique sur leurs costumes, mœurs, religions, etc., Paris 1784– 1788, 76, 80.  ANOM, MAD 150 207, Liniers, “Mémoire sur un établissement aux Isles de Madagascar, d’Anjouan, l’une des isles Comorres”, n.d.; Rochon, Alexis-Marie, called the Abbé, Voyage à Madagascar et aux Indes Orientales, Paris 1791, 30.  Some examples: ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 20, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 43, p. 6 – 10, 16, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 1774; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 51, p. 2, Reflections on a memorandum by Millon, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, Nno 52, p. 1, Sartine to Beňovsky´, June 1775; ANOM, DFC, XVII/ mémoires/88, no. 79, p. 16, 24, 33 – 37, La Serre’s diary, 1777; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, [Cossigny?], “Mémoire où l’on propose un établissement à Madagascar et où l’on s’attache à en prouver l’importance et l’avantage”, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Observations sur Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “ Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Mémoire sur Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Réponse aux éclaircissements demandés sur l’île de Madagascar”, n.d. Du Barry sees no “whites” in the coastal regions; see De Barry, Lettre de M. De Barry à M. G. de l’Académie des sciences, concernant l’état actuel des mœurs, usages, commerce, cérémonies et musiques des habitans de l’Isle de Malegache, Paris 1764, 4.  MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 24: “chair couleur de cuivre”.  For an example, see Lescallier, “Mémoire relatif à l’île de Madagascar”, 888.

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and the Malays.⁵³ A few years later, the natural historian Pierre Sonnerat mixed this statement with older descriptions by Flacourt and thus arrived at the conclusion that there were three “human races” on the Great Island: “black” Africans, “copper-coloured” Malays and “white” Arabs.⁵⁴ The “red” or “copper-coloured” “Malays” with long hair became a topos in writings on Madagascar in the early nineteenth century.⁵⁵

Figs. 11 and 12: Roandriana man and Roandriana woman.

 Mayeur, “Voyage dans le sud”, 168.  Sonnerat, Pierre, Voyage aux Indes Orientales et à la Chine, fait par ordre de Louis XVI, depuis 1774 jusqu’à 1781, Paris 1782, 56.  Fressanges, “Voyage à Madagascar”, 7; Tombe, Voyage aux Indes orientales, 92; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 99, p. 21, anon., “Essai sur Madagascar”, 1816 – 1817; Billiart, Voyage aux colonies orientales, 308.

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Figs 13 and 14: Representations of Malagasy.

The history of the “racial” classifications of the inhabitants of Madagascar is an indication that the contemporaries of Louis XIV were more willing to adopt Malagasy categorisations. Another example of the changed attitude towards indigenous descriptive categories is the way in which the authors, influenced by the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse, spoke of the rule of the Roandriana and other Malagasy upper classes. According to them, they were nothing but tyrants. Such a portrayal fulfilled a propagandistic function as it served to underpin the progressiveness of the French government, and this polemical narrative offered but little space for analysis and differentiation.⁵⁶

 Letters from Maudave to Praslin (1770) in ANOM, MAD 150 207, anon., “Extrait de differens mémoires, journaux, et lettres concernant l‘établissement de Madagascar, avec observations”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 28, fol. 3, Maudave to Praslin, 6 December 1767; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 48, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 19 September 1774; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 11, fol. 2, 5, Legentil, “Productions du Fort-Dauphin propres au commerce et à la vie”, n.d.

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Religion and “Superstition” The descriptions of religious concepts and practices follow a similar logic to that of labelling different phenotypes in Madagascar. The authors of the seventeenth century showed scant respect for the religious traditions and cults of the Malagasy. As far as they were concerned, the Malagasy’s relations with the invisible world displayed ridiculous “superstition”.⁵⁷ In their eyes, one could not speak of a religion since there were neither temples nor priests.⁵⁸ Nevertheless, Louis XIV’s contemporaries showed great interest in what today would be called the Malagasy religious beliefs and practices. Cauche reports a belief in God and the devil, Islamic customs such as ritual slaughter, circumcision, the prohibition on eating pork, Friday observance, and Islamic marriage and divorce laws.⁵⁹ Flacourt provides an even better insight into the religious world of Anosy, or at least that of the Roandriana. Like Cauche, he writes about the belief in a creator God and the devil, tells a Malagasy version of the creation story and the expulsion of Adam from the Garden of Eden and explains the local doctrine of angels. Flacourt also reports on the belief in ghosts, zombies and the power of talismans, which were often inscribed with Arabic characters. He describes the ritual slaughter and circumcision ceremonies.⁶⁰ Rennefort’s Histoire des Indes orientales distinguishes itself from other writings in that it reproduces conversations with scholars from Anosy, for example about the question of the eternity of the world or the reasons why one should recognise God’s hand in the most humble things of this world and therefore worship the Creator.⁶¹ All these elements enabled scholars like Paul Ottino in the twentieth century to analyse the strong Islamic-Southeast Asian influence and, at the same time, the syncretisms in the religious culture of Anosy.⁶² In contrast, Maudave and other representatives of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse were succinct on the topic of the faith and religious practices of the Malagasy. As far as they were concerned, it was sufficient generally to point out that these islanders had no religion.⁶³ They reproduced Rennefort’s

 Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 332, 347 f.; Rennefort, Histoire des Indes orientales, 152, 245 f.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 126, 321, 332, 421.  Cauche, Relations, 49 – 62, 119 – 123.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 159 – 168, 332, 347.  Rennefort, Histoire des Indes orientales, 152 f., 245 f.  Ottino, L’Étrangère intime; Rakotoarisoa, Mille ans d’occupation humaine.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 3, 20, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 8, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784; Sonnerat, Voyage aux Indes orientales, 62.

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and Flacourt’s descriptions in part and in an abbreviated form⁶⁴ but they did not provide any new information about the religious world of the Great Island. At most, they detected a primitive Manicheism among the Malagasy or a natural religious belief in the Supreme Being (namely, in Zanahary).⁶⁵ They thus praised the fact that the Malagasy recognised a creator yet, following Flacourt, criticised that these islanders nevertheless paid more attention to the devil than to God.⁶⁶ Overall, their verdict was scathing. According to De Barry, the Malagasy “lived in the most blatant ignorance”,⁶⁷ while for Raynal, the islanders indulged in “a thousand superstitions”.⁶⁸ The Encyclopédie stated succinctly that the Malagasy were benighted “by the idolatry and superstitions of Mahometism”.⁶⁹ This contrasts strikingly with the idea that the Age of Enlightenment gave birth to comparative religious studies.⁷⁰ How can this extensive eighteenth-century disinterest in Malagasy religious ideas and practices be explained? Here, too, the narrative of an imminent civilising and also Christianisation seems to have played a decisive role in the silence of the sources. For Maudave and his successors, what mattered most was that the Malagasy “had no religion”, for this promised straightforward missionary work that would provide a basis for

 See, for example, Prévost, Antoine-François, called the Abbé, Histoire générale des voyages ou Nouvelle collection de toutes les relations de voyages par mer et par terre, qui ont été publiées jusqu’a présent dans les différentes langues de toutes les Nations connues : contenant ce qu’il y a de plus remarquable, de plus utile, et de mieux avéré dans les pays où les voyageurs ont pénétré, […] pour former un système complet d’histoire et de géographie moderne, qui représentera l’état actuel de toutes les Nations […], 15 vols., Paris 1746 – 1759, vol. 8, 1750, 601; Grasset de Saint-Sauveur, Costumes de tous les peuples connus, 87 f.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 79, p. 48, La Serre’s diary, 1777. Also see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 96, fol. 5 f., anon., “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar”, 1794; De Barry, Lettre, 5; Raynal, Guillaume-Thomas-François, Histoire philosophique et politique des établissemens et du commerce des européens dans les deux Indes: Avec les supplémens, 10 vols., La Haye 1774, vol. 2, 12; Sonnerat, Voyage aux Indes orientales, 62; Fressanges, “Voyage à Madagascar”, 9.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 99, pp. 39 – 41, anon., “Essai sur Madagascar”, 1816 – 1817. Grasset de Saint-Sauveur, however, shows understanding for their preference for the devil; see Grasset de Saint-Sauveur, Costumes de tous les peuples connus, 87.  De Barry, Lettre, 5: “une ignorance universelle”.  Raynal, Guillaume-Thomas-François, Histoire philosophique et politique des établissemens et du commerce des Européens dans les deux Indes, 6 vols., Amsterdam 1770, vol. 2, 5: “mille superstitions”.  “Madagascar”, in: Encyclopédie ou Dictionnaire raisonné des sciences, des arts et des métiers, par une société de gens de lettres, mis en ordre et publié par Mr. ***, vol. 9, Neufchastel 1765, 839: “diverses nations, […] toutes plongées dans l’idolatrie ou dans les superstitions du mahométisme”.  Hunt, Lynn/Margaret C. Jacob/Wijnand Mijnhardt, The Book the Changed Europe: Picart’s and Bernard’s ‘Religious Ceremonies of the World’, Cambridge 2010.

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French rule.⁷¹ From the viewpoint of both the philosophes and the authors of memoranda, there was no reason to concern oneself with supposedly ridiculous traditions which would soon die out anyway. Hence there are numerous indications that the perspective of civilising the Malagasy and the accompanying narrative led to a kind of Enlightenment silencing. In particular, these texts suggest a lesser willingness on part of their authors to acquire the knowledge held by the islanders. It is therefore no coincidence that the century of the Enlightenment did not produce a work which had an ethnographic quality like Flacourt’s writing and which, consequently, could still be used as an ethnohistorical source today.⁷² However, this does not mean that the French generally were unwilling to acquire Malagasy knowledge. In addition to Mayeur, traders and natural historians left manuscripts that drew a complex picture of Madagascar based on observation, linguistic knowledge as well as a comprehensive understanding of the country. The natural historian Louis-Armand Chapelier who was on the Great Island between 1794 and 1807, and the trader Charles Telfair, who made several trips to Antananarivo in the early nineteenth century, should be mentioned in this context.⁷³ However, these reports remained unprinted and were not available to the French elites. In the Versailles offices and the public sphere, a political and “philosophical” discourse that led to an impoverishment of Madagascar images clearly dominated; a silencing that was not based on a construction of alterity but, on the contrary, on the postulate of a future assimilation of the natives. What many “enlightened” authors of the eighteenth century took from the Malagasy was ultimately a myth, namely the indigenous legend of the Kimosy, a “pygmy people” (“peuple de pygmées”) living in the mountains. Flacourt recounted in his Histoire how the Malagasy storytellers recited a legend about the Kimosy.⁷⁴ Maudave, in contrast, made a fact out of the legend. Probably once again, the governor of Fort-Dauphin had been inspired by Valgny who dis-

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 14, fol. 1, anon., “Mémoire sur un établissement à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fols. 2, 5 f., Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 27, fol. 2, anon., “Projet d’un établissement à Madagascar. 21 novembre 176[?]”; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 6, 20, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/memoires/88, no. 81, fol. 8, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784.  Such use of Flacour’s writing can be found, for example, in Ottino, L’Étrangère intime, 16 – 30.  Chapelier, Étude; Charles Telfair’s travelogue in MHN, Ms. 3001, II, 18.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 99.

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cusses the Kimosy in his diary.⁷⁵ In his own diary entry of 25 October 1768, Maudave notes how a “captain” of King Maimbo by the name of Raimonza had told him about the “Quimos”. At the time, Maudave was thinking of dropping his ally Dian Mananzac and joining Maimbo, and for this reason, he received Maimbo’s son Raimaz and his adviser Raimonza in Fort-Dauphin. Raimonza assured him that he had been to the Kimosy several times and had traded with them.⁷⁶ Maudave thereupon sent an expedition into the mountains where, according to this informant, the Kimosy lived. However, the “caravan” could not find any “pygmies”, which the governor explained by saying that his men had strayed from the right path and had lost their way.⁷⁷ Subsequently, with his pronounced tendency to be out of touch with reality, Maudave wrote a memorandum on this “peculiar people” of pygmies. According to him, the Kimosy were three feet tall and industrious and basically peaceful farmers who, however, defended themselves ferociously when attacked. The women did not menstruate nor did they have breasts, and they fed their babies with cow’s milk.⁷⁸ For a lot of money, Maudave bought a slave girl who seemed to exhibit similar characteristics and who, in his eyes, confirmed the truth of this description. At three feet ten inches, “his little Quimos,” as Maudave called her, was taller than most Kimosy were said to be. But, as in Raimonza’s description, she had no breasts and allegedly did not menstruate. She was extremely thin when she arrived in Fort-Dauphin and had been eating constantly ever since. The testimonies of some Malagasy and his own “specimen” (“échantillon”), as he called his slave girl less affectionately, left Maudave in no doubt that there was a nation of “pygmies” in Madagascar.⁷⁹ Maudave based this description mainly on Raimonza’s account, who in the meantime had died in a skirmish with Dian Mananzac.⁸⁰ He also referred to cer-

 Excerpts from Valgny’s diary, compiled by Commerson, in MHN, Ms. 887, p. 24 f., “II. Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de Madagascar, Pièces diverses de la main de Commerson concernant Madagascar” and “4o Des differents peuples de Madagascar”, n.d., fol. 24. Racault suggests that Maudave was inspired by Valgny; see Racault, “Histoire et enjeux d’un mythe”, footnote 20.  MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 18 f.  Ibid., 59.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 65 f., “Mémoire sur un peuple singulier nommé les Quimos”, n.d.  Maudave’s statements are ambivalent. He writes that there can be no doubt about this and yet he reports his doubts. He is particularly uncertain about the question of whether Kimosy women really do not have breasts; see MHN, Ms. 3001, pp. 66 – 68, “Mémoire sur un peuple singulier nommé les Quimos”, n.d. The present study does not follow Racault’s assertion that Maudave made only very cautious statements; see Racault, “Histoire et enjeux d’un mythe”.  MHN, Ms. 3001, p. 66, “Mémoire sur un peuple singulier nommé les Quimos”, n.d. For Raimonzac’s death, see MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 41.

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tain Malagasy who promised to sell him further similar slaves in the hope of making a handsome profit, as the governor remarked.⁸¹ There is some evidence to suggest that Maudave may have been a willing victim of Malagasy who wanted to sell him rare “specimens” of this allegedly peculiar people for a lot of money. His aim was indeed to acquire enough Kimosy to send some of them to Paris. For the governor of Fort-Dauphin, this would have meant a sensational appearance in “philosophical” circles. For, as he remarked, the existence of a “pygmy people” would be another argument in favour of Voltaire and against the Sorbonne. In his eyes, it would support the thesis of a polygenesis of mankind according to which different species of human beings originated independently of one another and thus cast doubt on the biblical creation story.⁸² The news of a Malagasy “pygmy people” spread in scholarly circles through the botanist Philibert Commerson, who visited Madagascar in 1769. Commerson sent a letter to Jerôme Lalande, the editor of the Journal des Sçavans, the journal of the French Royal Academy of Sciences, which published extracts from it in 1771.⁸³ For Commerson, this letter was a welcome opportunity to gain fame as a natural historian. In it, he claimed to surpass Linné’s work with his research. The Swede had estimated the number of plant species at 7,000 to 8,000, while he, Commerson, in his journey through the world with Bougainville, had collected specimens of 25,000 species. One should “take pity on all these dismal speculative bookmen (spéculateurs de cabinet) who spend their lives setting up meaningless systems”.⁸⁴ Commerson thus presented himself as an empiricallyoriented scientist. Moreover, with his news about the Kimosy, he attacked the very idea of an animal species as such, maintaining that nature produces no fixed models but rather all kinds of accidents that are infinitely diverse. According to Commerson, there were also no clear boundaries between humans and animals. Thus, if one took from a Lapp the ability to speak and gave it to an ape, the former would become an ape and the latter a human being.⁸⁵ Despite his aggres-

 MHN, Ms. 30 01, p. 66 f., “Mémoire sur un peuple singulier nommé les Quimos”, n.d.  Ibid., 67.  Commerson, Philibert, “Lettre sur un peuple nain de l’Isle de Madagascar adressée à Messieurs les Auteurs du Journal des Sçavans, par M. de Lalande, de l’Académie Royale des Sciences”, in: Journal des Sçavans 1771, December, II, 851– 855.  Lettre de M. de Commerson à M. de la Lande, Ile Bourbon, 18 avril 1771, in Banks, J./D. C. Solander, Supplément au voyage de Bougainville, ou Journal d’un voyage autour du monde, fait par MM. Banks et Solander, Anglois, en 1768, 1769, 1770, 1771. Traduit de l’anglois, par M. de Fréville, Paris 1772, 256: “On ne peut s’empêcher, à la vue des trésors répandus à pleine main sur cette terre fertile, de regarder en pitié ces sombres spéculateurs de cabinet qui passent leur vie à forger de vains systèmes, et dont tous les efforts n’aboutissent qu’à faire des châteaux de cartes.”  Ibid., 256 – 261.

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sive demeanour as a scientist who had developed expertise in the field, Commerson’s empirical basis solely consisted of Maudave’s slave, and his letter reproduced the governor’s memorandum in part verbatim. He merely added details to Maudave’s texts, some of which were sentimental-Rousseauistic, while others, in a racist manner, considered the Kimosy as being close to apes.⁸⁶ Due to the polemical thrust of Commerson’s letter, not all scholars were pleased with the discovery of a pygmy people. Buffon did reproduce the letter in his Histoire naturelle de l’homme of 1777, but because of his monogenist conviction and his will to establish a species definition, and thus a clear separation between humans and apes, he doubted both the validity of Commerson’s empirical basis and his interpretation. Legentil and Sonnerat likewise did not believe in the existence of the Kimosy. Nevertheless, the Kimosy continued to haunt late Enlightenment texts for some time. Especially Raynal’s History of the Two Indies which, in its third edition, was entirely in line with Commerson, spread the word about the Malagasy “pygmy people”.⁸⁷ Rochon also reprinted Maudave’s memorandum and Commerson’s letter in his book, and he attacked Flacourt vehemently for not believing in the Kimosy, these prototypes of good “savages”. Rochon thought that this was characteristic of Flacourt’s hatred of the Malagasy. In the astronomer’s writing, the image of the Kimosy merged with that of the good Malagasy savage.⁸⁸ Thus, also with regard to the myth of the Kimosy, French images of Madagascar in the eighteenth century followed “philosophical” discourses rather than empiricism. Against the background of a general silencing based on Enlightenment ideas, the myth of the Kimosy was one of the few components of French Madagascar knowledge whose origins could be traced to statements by indigenous people. French authors appropriated the legend to position themselves in the “philosophical” field. The invention of a “pygmy people” by Maudave and Commerson is all the more ironic when one considers that Commerson became famous for debunking the myth of Patagonian giants, an understanding that is regarded as a great moment in the Enlightenment disenchantment of the world.⁸⁹

   

Commerson, “Lettre sur un peuple nain”. Racault, “Histoire et enjeux d’un mythe”. Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar, 142 f. Osterhammel, Die Entzauberung Asiens, 144; Racault, “Histoire et enjeux d’un mythe”.

10 Colonialism and philosophie How could the late Enlightenment discourse on the effortlessness of a “soft” colonial expansion in Madagascar become so firmly established in the last third of the eighteenth century? The following two chapters contribute to answering this question by taking up recent approaches in the history of knowledge. Chapter 11 will examine the communication processes, spaces and the networks that played a role in the dissemination and establishment of the Madagascar discourse, especially through unprinted memoranda. First, however, in Chapter 10, the connections between the new knowledge about Madagascar and the emergence of the ideas of civilisation, the Enlightenment and philosophie will be discussed. The chapter examines how the Madagascar discourse came about and how it was passed on in a circle of philosophes. In her classic Anthropologie et Histoire au siècle des Lumières, Michèle Duchet pointed out that the colonisation plans for Madagascar were one of the fields of experimentation in which a new policy of civilising was conceived.¹ Moreover, she drew scholarly attention to the involvement of the philosophes in the development of colonial policy in the Ancien Régime.² In what follows, these theses will be drawn on to show that Maudave and the philosophes of Île de France played a fundamental role in the invention of the civilising mission, a central idea of the modern era. Against the background of these interrelations, a question arises that is of central importance for the history of ideas. How much attention should be paid to the unpublished writings of lesser-known intellectuals who lived overseas? For some years now, there has been a growing interest in the colonial Enlightenment, which historiography hitherto had greatly neglected. The writings of lawyers and natural scientists from the Caribbean have been studied.³ The

 Duchet, Anthropologie et Histoire, 53, 97, 117 f., 129, 131, 213, 218.  Ibid., especially 18.  For the lawyers, see Ghachem, “Montesquieu in the Caribbean”; Garrigus, John D., “Moreau de Saint-Méry et le patriotisme créole à Saint-Domingue”, in: Taffin, Dominique (ed.), Moreau de Saint-Méry ou les ambiguïtés d’un créole des Lumières, no place. 2006, 65 – 75 (also see the other articles in ibid.); Thomson, Ann, “Issues at Stake in Eighteenth-Century Racial Classification”, in: Cromohs 8 (2003), 1– 20, here 11; Livingstone, David N., Adam’s Ancestors. Race, Religion, and the Origins of Human Origins, Baltimore 2008, 68 – 70; Brace, C. Loring, “Race” is a Four-letter Word. The Genesis of the Concept, New York/Oxford 2005, 40; Chaplin, Joyce E., “Race”, in: Armitage, David/David Braddick/Michael J. Braddick (eds.), The British Atlantic World, 1500 – 1800, Basingstoke 2002, 154– 172, here 166; Sebastiani, The Scottish Enlightenment, 13. For the natural scientists, see McClellan/Regourd, “The Colonial Machine”; McClellan, Colonialism and Science; Regourd, François, Sciences et Colonisation sous l’Ancien Régime. Le cas de https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-012

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Mascarenes, in contrast, play a subordinate role in scholarly discourse even though in connection with the Madagascar discourse, the physiocrat Pierre Poivre and Cossigny have certainly received some attention.⁴ This chapter aims to contribute to the study of the colonial Enlightenment in the Indian Ocean. After an introduction to the problems of the relative isolation of the motherland from the Indian Ocean and the centralisation of the French colonial empire, the role of the reception by Maudave of Flacourt’s writing will be addressed, for which the change in historical conceptions in the 1760s was decisive, but which also contributed to the development of new plans for a civilising policy. Above all, the interrelationship between images of Madagascar and universal history will be examined. The focus thereafter will be on the adoption of the Maudavian discourse by a circle of scholars from Île de France and, beyond, by philosophes of the motherland. In this context, the entanglements of intellectual and political elites will be examined. The main issue here is the question of the extent to which there is an affinity between philosophie and colonialism and how this can be explained. Finally, the legitimisations of the new Madagascar discourse through the lens of philosophy will be considered. The aim is to contribute to research into the moral economies of knowledge,⁵ or rather, the strategies of knowledge legitimisation.

The Problems of Ruling from a Distance The fundamental problem of the authors of the Madagascar policy was that they lived in Versailles and Paris. They were active in a geographic era that was relatively isolated from the Indian Ocean, and at the same time, they were responsible for the fundamental orientation of Madagascar policy. As Kenneth Banks has recognised,⁶ the high degree of centralisation of the French colonial empire presented obstacles for the development of an effective colonial policy. Officially, all important decisions were made in the Ministry of the Navy. Of course, one should not fall for the illusion that Versailles controlled everything. Besides the official policy initiated by Versailles, there was often a second, unofficial and locally initiated policy. However, it was the Ministry of the Navy that decided

la Guyane et des Antilles françaises, XVIIe–XVIIIe siècles, thèse de doctorat d’État, unprinted, université de Bordeaux III, 2000.  Malleret, Pierre Poivre; Wanquet, “Joseph-François Charpentier de Cossigny”.  Daston, “The Moral Economy of Science”.  Banks, Kenneth J., Chasing Empire across the Sea. Communications and the State in the French Atlantic, 1713 – 1763, Montreal/Kingston 2002.

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how to allocate resources and implement colonisation enterprises. Often, in the process, the ministers and their clerks did not consult the intendants and governors of the Mascarene Islands at all. For example, the administrators of Île de France had no part in the decision to support Maudave’s project of colonising and civilising the Great Island. Likewise, Ternay and Maillart were presented with a fait accompli when they received the letter informing them of Beňovský’s arrival.⁷ Europe and the Indian Ocean were interconnected but distinct world regions, and the circulation of knowledge between them was limited, as a letter by Joseph-Pierre Leboux-Dumorier shows. Dumorier, a former commissioner of the Legislative Assembly for the East Indian settlements like Lescallier, was stuck on Île de France between 1795 and 1797. On 24 September 1793, the National Convention had ordered him and the other commissioners to cease all activity immediately and to resign from office. Thereafter, Dumorier lingered in the middle of the Indian Ocean without a clear mission. In order not to remain idle, he decided to gather information about Madagascar and the French possessions in the East Indies which, subsequently, resulted in a book. On Île de la Réunion, Dumorier met, among others, with the elderly pastor of Saint-Denis, who had worked as a priest, doctor and botanist in Madagascar and had compiled extensive notebooks and memoranda about the island. The former commissioner of the Legislative Assembly was concerned with saving a body of knowledge that he believed would be lost with the death of its holders. It was a fact that with the demise of the knowledge producers, their manuscripts often disappeared with them. Dumorier recounts how he once asked someone to give him a handwritten work that he had seen with that person. However, the owner of the manuscript replied that he had since loaded his rifle with it. Moreover, according to Dumorier, a large collection of manuscripts on the natural history and curiosities of various countries that a certain Chazal owned was largely lost after his death in 1796.⁸ Dumorier claimed to know that some inhabitants of the Mascarenes owned memoranda of quality. However, they guarded them “like a gardener’s dog” guards the vegetables.⁹ Dumorier was nevertheless able to report some successes in his efforts to save knowledge. He had been able, for example, to obtain the diaries and memoranda of Sanglier, the late Commander of Madagascar, sources that today cannot be found in the archives.¹⁰  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 111, Boynes to Ternay and Maillart, 19 March 1773.  ANOM, C 4 111, fols. 242– 246, Dumorier to the Minister of the Navy, 8 August 1797, fol. 243.  Ibid., “comme le chien du jardinier”.  Ibid. On the precariousness of knowledge in the early modern period, see Mulsow, Martin, Prekäres Wissen. Eine andere Ideengeschichte der frü hen Neuzeit, Berlin 2012.

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Dumorier was impressed that there were so many learned men on Île de France. In order for the sciences to make even more progress in the Mascarenes, the former commissioner suggested to the Minister of the Navy that an academy be founded: just as “France has its National Institute (Institut national)”, “these islands [need] a colonial institute (Institut colonial)”.¹¹ This academy would be devoted to science and technology (arts), even to dance and the fine arts. It would include a library, a map archive, a concert hall, architectural models as well as workshops for the various technical disciplines. Moreover, it would offer prizes. The influence of this colonial institute would not be limited to the Mascarenes, as the academy would also make a decisive contribution to the civilising of Madagascar. First and foremost, the members of the academy would teach the Malagasy to write in both Malagasy and French. In Dumorier’s opinion, this task could be given to former employees of the settlements on the Red Island, such as Mayeur and Dumaine.¹² Dumorier’s letter to the Minister of the Navy is an important document for research into the production of knowledge about Madagascar because it provides insights into local knowledge-gathering practices about which, otherwise, one can only speculate. At the same time, the letter shows that the Mascarenes and France were clearly distinguishable regions between which information circulated only sporadically. The knowledge produced by the upper classes of Île de France and Île Bourbon reached France to a limited extent only. Without institutions specialising in gathering and spreading knowledge, the information that individuals collected about Madagascar was largely lost. The academy Dumorier wanted was clearly needed. Without such institutionalisation, intellectual engagement with the Great Island would lead to a true generation of knowledge on a small scale only and in a space separate from the mother country. The colonial political headquarters thus had but limited access to knowledge produced by inhabitants of the Indian Ocean. Instead, the colonial machinery created its own knowledge through certain communication channels and media. The decision-makers in the Ministry of the Navy made use of five sources to inform themselves about the foreign territories of the colonial frontier. First, they corresponded with the officials in Madagascar (or conversed with those who had returned to the motherland). As the commanders of Madagascar were gatekeepers who filtered information, Versailles received only little knowledge from actors who served under Maudave, Beňovský or Sanglier. Second, the

 ANOM, C 4 111, fols. 242– 246, Dumorier to the Minister of the Navy, 8 August 1797, fol. 245: “La France a son Institut national […]; il faut à ces isles un Institut colonial”.  Ibid., fol. 245 f. For Dumaine, see Ratsivalaka, Madagascar, 352– 356.

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ministers and their staff exchanged letters with the governors and intendants of the Mascarenes. Third, special envoys were occasionally sent to inspect Madagascar. Fourth, the ministers and their employees read memoranda about Madagascar and, fifth, they read printed texts about the Great Island. Of these five information sources, two tended to convey local experiences, namely the correspondence with the administrators of Île de France and the reports of the special envoys. But the information that seemed useful in retrospect existed alongside other information that had been manipulated or followed the late Enlightenment discourse. One fundamental problem with commissions of enquiry as a method of information gathering was that they could only be used selectively, here and there. In the period between 1750 and 1815, commissioners who were sent by the Ministry of the Navy visited the Great Island only twice. They stayed there for no more than a few weeks. Neither were the envoys familiar with Madagascar, and they were only partially able to assess correctly the chances for colonial expansion. Lescallier’s view of Madagascar, for example, and his assessment of its possibilities for expansion, were based less on his own fleeting experiences on the island itself than on the writings and statements of Cossigny. Moreover, sending special envoys to Madagascar protected the Minister of the Navy by no means from attempts at manipulation. La Serre, for example, resorted to the established Madagascar discourse to conceal his ignorance and even his illegal actions. In retrospect, the correspondence of the Ministry of the Navy with the administrators of Île de France was crucial in ensuring that less filtered information reached Versailles and Paris. In fact, thanks to the reports of administrative officials, merchants and ship captains, the governor and the intendant of the Mascarenes had a relatively accurate picture of what was happening on the ground, and they reported on it. Some of this information was certainly noted. However, again and again the ministers of the navy and their staff believed the governors and commandants of Madagascar rather than the administrators of the Mascarene Islands. In the long term, it was printed and manuscript descriptions rather than letters that shaped the image of Madagascar. While letters were mainly used by clerks for gathering information in the short term, the memoranda and philosophical texts in which the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse predominated were written to be read by a wider audience and also for future readers. The following chapters will take a closer look at these two genres and at the actors who mined them.

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Flacourt’s Reception during the Enlightenment In retrospect, it is not obvious that the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse should have become so dominant, because the generally-accepted Madagascar knowledge even in the middle of the eighteenth century still in no way suggested a colonial expansion on this island. In his “General History of Travels” (Histoire générale des voyages) of 1750, the Abbé Prévost did not paint a positive picture of Madagascar at all. According to him, the Great Island had no notable resources, was sparsely populated and its inhabitants were perfidious.¹³ In his “Letter on the customs, practices, trade, ceremonies and music of the inhabitants of the island of Madagascar” of 1764, De Barry, an officer who had spent two years on the island, judged “the barbarians” and their island harshly. He thought them ignorant, superstitious and lazy; the air was unhealthy and the soil not very fertile so that hunger often prevailed.¹⁴ Rousselot de Surgy followed De Barry’s assessment and descriptions in his survey of the Asian, African and Nordic peoples published in 1765 (Mélanges interessans et curieux ou Abrégé d’histoire naturelle, morale, civile et politique de l’Asie, de l’Afrique et des Terres Polaires).¹⁵ The same year, the Encyclopédie in its ninth volume painted an equally gloomy picture of the island.¹⁶ In the first edition of Raynal’s History of the Two Indies (1770), the section on Madagascar is largely a transcription of Prévost in as much as the author adopts the latter’s negative descriptions and evaluations.¹⁷ The second edition, published in 1774, is still based on the Histoire générale des voyages. It sketches an even more pessimistic portrait of Madagascar and, in contrast to the third edition of 1780, explicitly opposes the colonisation of this country.¹⁸ Thus until the 1770s, the verdict of French publicists was scathing; only the Abbé Roubaud, in the third volume of his “General History of Asia, Africa and America” (Histoire générale de l’Asie, de l’Afrique et de l’Amérique, 1772), was slightly more discerning regarding Madagascar.¹⁹

 Prévost, Histoire générale des voyages, vol. 8, 551– 627.  De Barry, Lettre.  Rousselot de Surgy, Mélanges interessans et curieux ou Abrégé d’histoire naturelle, morale, civile et politique de l’Asie, de l’Afrique et des Terres Polaires, Paris 1765, 138 f.  “Madagascar”, in Encyclopédie, vol. 9, 839 – 840; MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 55 f.  Raynal, Histoire des Deux Indes (1770), vol. 2, book 4, 4– 10.  Raynal, Histoire des Deux Indes (1774), vol. 2, 9 – 16.  Roubaud, Pierre Joseph André, Histoire générale de l’Asie, de l’Afrique et de l’Amérique contenant des discours sur l’histoire ancienne des peuples de ces contrées, leur histoire moderne & la description des lieux, avec des remarques sur leur histoire naturelle, et des observations sur les re-

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For the idea of a “soft” colonial expansion in Madagascar to become attractive, there had to be a re-evaluation of the island and its inhabitants that would lend the project credibility. There needed to be images of “gentle” Malagasy eager to learn and yearning to be civilised that made sense within a historicalphilosophical framework. It was only within this new framework that older positive images of Madagascar and the Malagasy could be received and take a firm place in the imagination of French elites. If Maudave can be considered the founder of the Madagascar discourse which was influential in the fifty years between 1767 and 1817, it was not because he had invented the individual ideas presented in his memoranda, but because he reinterpreted and combined some of the traditional ideas in the light of the new Enlightenment theories. Indeed, it was Maudave’s selective reception of the most detailed writing about Madagascar from the previous century, the Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar by Flacourt, which led to the emergence of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse outlined above. At least in part, some passages in the Histoire de la Grande Isle seem to anticipate retrospectively the late Enlightenment ideas about Madagascar. In the very first sentence of the dedicatory letter to Nicolas Fouquet, Flacourt places his colonisation project under the auspices of a policy of moralisation and Christianisation which, according to him, the Malagasy themselves desired: This island I am describing turns to your Highness to ask for your help and for workers who would make the islanders educate themselves like the nations of Europe and teach them the right way to cultivate the soil, the arts, to develop professions and manufactures […]. It requires laws, political order, cities and officials […]. And it requires that which is most valuable in the world: clerics, priests, preachers to convert the peoples and instruct them in the mysteries of the true religion.²⁰

The former governor of Fort-Dauphin goes on to describe the Grande Isle in the first part of his book. He paints a picture of “one of the largest islands in the world, full of fertile mountains with timber, pastures, plantations, and tracts

ligions, les gouvernemens, les sciences, les arts, le commerce, les coutumes, les mœurs, les caractères, etc., des nations, 5 vols., Paris 1770 – 1775, vol. 3, 276 f., 292 f., 772– 779.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 103: “Cette isle, que je décris, se présente à votre Grandeur, pour implorer votre secours, et pour vous demander des ouvriers afin d’inciter ses habitants à se façonner, comme les autres nations de l’Europe, et pour enseigner la bonne manière de cultiver la Terre, les Arts, les Métiers et les Manufactures […]. Elle vous demande des Lois, des Ordonnances politiques, des Villes et des Officiers […]. Et ce qui est de plus précieux que toutes les choses du Monde: elles vous demande des Ecclésiastiques, des Prêtres et des Prédicateurs pour convertir les peuples et leur enseigner les Mystères de la véritable Religion.”

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of land with rivers and ponds full of fish; it feeds an infinite number of cattle […]”.²¹ Also, the poultry, sheep and goats were numerous, large, fat, nutritious and very tasty. Moreover, there were only a few dangerous animals.²² In his description of the individual regions, Flacourt lists a great many products: rice, sugar, tobacco, honey, all kinds of cattle, fish, vegetables, fruits, metals (including gold) as well as various kinds of rubber. Again and again, the adjectives “beautiful”, “good”, “pleasant”, “fertile”, “rich”, “productive” and “numerous” recur;²³ only rarely does Flacourt describe regions as “barren and infertile”.²⁴ He implicitly equates several areas with the richest countryside in France, for example the Brie or the Loire valley.²⁵ Despite describing Madagascar as an extremely rich island, Flacourt concludes by claiming that the population only produces what little it needs to survive. The establishment of “colonies of Frenchmen”, in contrast, would teach the locals the pleasures of luxury. Tobacco, indigo, cotton, cane sugar, silk, honey, various kinds of rubber, roots, pepper, ambergris, precious stones, gold, iron, steel and leather would soon be exported to Europe.²⁶ In contrast to the Caribbean islands, it would not be necessary to bring slaves to Madagascar from far away, as the natives voluntarily worked for low wages. The village elders even offered the French half of their farmland, along with their own daughters. The Malagasy were modest, docile and, unlike the natives of the Americas, loved to work. They were only waiting to learn from the “Christians”. The Catholic religion would be easy to implant. It would also be possible to recruit soldiers on the island and build ships to wage war against the “Mohammedans”. Fort-Dauphin would eventually become the “storehouse” (“entrepôt”) of the East Indies, Flacourt wrote in the mid-seventeenth century.²⁷ Thus, numerous topoi of the late Enlightenment discourse about Madagascar and the Malagasy can already be found in Flacourt’s work along with the goal of moralising the Great Island. This is also true of many details; not only of the long list of the island’s products, but also of the assertion that the Mala-

 Ibid., 126.: “Cette isle est une des plus grandes qu’il y ait au monde, remplie de montagnes fertiles en bois, pâturages et plantations et de campagnes arrosées de rivières et d’étang poissonneux, elle nourrit un nombre infini de bœufs.”  Ibid.  Ibid., 128 – 154: “beau”, “bon”, “doux”, “riche”, “fécond”, “sans nombre”.  Ibid., 152: “pauvre et stérile”.  Ibid., 127, 152.  Ibid., 420: “colonies de Français”.  Ibid., 420 – 432.

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gasy did not know any religion²⁸ or killed and abandoned small children in large numbers who had been born on unfortunate days.²⁹ The close discursive similarities suggest that Maudave borrowed Flacourt’s statements about the attractiveness of the Great Island, the goals of the colonisation policy and the desirable course of action. It is certain that Maudave memorised Flacourt’s writing carefully. His diary and his letters show that he viewed the Great Island through the eyes of his predecessor at Fort-Dauphin. He visited places in order to compare them with descriptions in Flacourt’s text, interpreted his experiences through the lens of this work³⁰ and legitimised his plans with reference to the ideas of Flacourt and his supposedly positive experiences.³¹ Maudave emphasised that Flacourt’s descriptions of the Malagasy, the animals and the plants were very accurate.³² He did not doubt that there was gold in Madagascar or that good wine could be produced in Anosy, because he had read such in Flacourt.³³ In claiming that the peoples of Madagascar felt inferior to the French and wanted to be like them, Maudave was referring to Flacourt’s invariably truthful reports.³⁴ He even took his ideas on how to deal with malaria from Flacourt’s book.³⁵ A further hint at his reading of Flacourt is the use of the term “Rohandrian” (Roandriana) for Anosy’s upper class. When Maudave and his contemporaries referred to Malagasy dignitaries, they tended to use the term “chief”. However, when Maudave expounded his Flacourt-inspired visions of the future, he characteristically drew on his predecessor’s vocabulary just as Beňovský did in recounting his imaginary election as ‘Ampansakabe’.³⁶ In addition, and following Maudave, almost all authors of memoranda about Madagascar referred to Etienne de Flacourt, who was called “the truest of all our historians” by one of these project authors.³⁷ Flacourt’s “History of the Great Island of Madagascar” was not a forgotten work but was for sale “at Pierre Bienfait

 Ibid., 126, 128, 159 – 163.  Ibid., 183 – 185.  MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, pp. 9, 11, 13 f., 29.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767; ANOM, DFC, XVII/ mémoires/88, no. 28, memorandum by Maudave, 6 December 1767; MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 62 f.  MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 20, 55.  Ibid., 12, 17, 34.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 47, fol. 9, Maudave to the Minister of the Navy, 28 August 1770.  MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 50.  Ibid., 31, 55.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 182, fol. 2, memorandum by Roze, 16 August 1783: “le plus vrai de nos historiens”.

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or his successors in the great hall of the Palais [de justice in Paris] at the fourth pillar, the one with the picture of St Peter”.³⁸ Through the lens of the Maudavian reading of Flacourt, the latter influenced statements about the island, its products, its inhabitants as well as about the simplicity of subjugating the indigenous people. To support the last point, the authors of the memoranda referred to the alleged subjugation of the whole of Anosy by Flacourt.³⁹ The reception of Flacourt’s work is particularly evident in the writings of the astronomer Legentil who often refers to the former governor of Fort-Dauphin.⁴⁰ But also his colleague Rochon, who criticises Flacourt, seems to have copied from the “History of the Great Island of Madagascar”, as can be seen most particularly in his portrayal of Anosy.⁴¹ Traces of Flacourt can also be found in Beňovský, even if it is not clear whether the nobleman from Upper Hungary read this seventeenth-century book or whether he copied individual passages from Maudave. The extensive recourse in many writings on Madagascar to Flacourt’s text even provoked sarcastic comments from authors who actually were on the Great Island. In this spirit, the Chevalier de Sanglier and the Intendant Coquereau, who administered the settlements in Madagascar after Beňovský’s departure, criticised the Chevalier de La Serre as they knew that he would submit a memorandum to the Minister of the Navy after a stay of only two weeks in Madagascar. They warned the minister that all he would get would be a copy of Fla-

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 3, memorandum by Roze, n.d.: “Ce livre imprimé à Troyes en Champagne chez Nicolas Oudot et se vend à Paris chez Pierre Bienfait ou ses successeurs dans la grande salle du Palais au 4e Pillier à l’image St Pierre”.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 4, fol. 1, 3 f., excerpts from Legentil’s travel report, n.d.; for Legentil, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 7, fol. 2, “Description de la baie d’Antongil […] par M. Legentil” as well as ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 3, transcripts of documents about Madagascar; for Millon, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61, fol. 3, memorandum by Millon, n.d.; for Béquet, see C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 6, transcripts of documents about Madagascar; C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 12, “M. M. …”, transcripts of documents about Madagascar; for anon., see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 3, transcripts of documents about Madagascar; for Grossin see his “Mémoire inédit de Grossin sur Madagascar”, in: Revue de Geographie 13 (juillet-décembre 1883), 338 – 361, 349, 353, 360; for the Chevalier de la Serre, see MAD 150 207, “Extrait de differens mémoires, journaux, et lettres concernant l’établissement de Madagascar, avec observations”, n.d. (end); ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, Liniers, “Mémoire sur un établissement aux Isles de Madagascar, d’Anjouan, l’une des iles Comorres”, n.d.; MAE, Asie 4, no. 75, fols. 182– 191, Liniers, “Madagascar”, here fol. 184 f.; MAE, Asie 4, no. 76, Précourt [Meunier], “Mémoire raisonné sur un nouvel établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar”, 1784; C 5 A 8 bis, no. 182, fols. 2, 8, memorandum by Roze, 16 August 1783; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 3, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784.  Legentil, Voyage, 85 f., 88 f., 276.  Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar, 24– 32.

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court’s Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar, which in their eyes was no longer up to date.⁴² Confronted with the Minister’s accusation that he had only repeated old information, La Serre countered that his observations contained much that was new. To see this, according to La Serre, one only had to browse through the excerpts from the various travel reports he had sent to the minister; something similar could only be found in Flacourt.⁴³ It remains open whether or not this disclaimer, which confirmed Sanglier’s and Coquereau’s accusation, sounded convincing to the minister. Yet, Maudave and his successors reproduced Flacourt’s text only partially. The latter’s book contains two parts: a description of the island and a history of the French in Madagascar. Maudave had recourse to the first part but not the second. This selective reading was significant in so far as the story of the French-Malagasy encounters as told by Flacourt was not peaceful at all. In the second part, the natives do not appear as gentle and studious people who recognise the civilisational superiority of the French and therefore submit themselves to them. On the contrary, Flacourt describes the Malagasy as “perfidious” and “cruel”.⁴⁴ For this reason, the followers of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse again and again criticised Flacourt,⁴⁵ yet it did not prevent them from reading the first part of the Histoire de la Grande Isle in detail. One of the reasons for this selective reading was that the first part of Flacourt’s work fitted better into the Enlightenment’s universal history.

A Laboratory for the History of Civilisation Maudave thus created the Madagascar discourse of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries through a selective reading of the already one-hundredyear-old Histoire de la Grande Isle. In relation to Madagascar, this approach was certainly original. Although the Histoire de la Grande Isle was the main source regarding the Great Island,⁴⁶ Flacourt’s work, like the Great Island itself,

 ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 76, fol. 3, Sanglier et Coquereau to the Minister of the Navy, 31 August 1777.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 143, fol. 2, La Serre to Sartine, 2 July 1778.  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 263.  Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar, 39; memorandum by Roze: ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 3, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784.  See, for example, [Du Bois], Voyages; Dapper, Olfert, Description de l’Afrique, contenant les noms, la situation et les confins de toutes ses parties, leurs rivières, leurs villes et leurs habitations, leurs plantes et leurs animaux ; les Mœurs, les coutumes, la langue, les richesses, la religion et le

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had a poor reputation in the 1760s. The admiral and viceroy of the East Indies Jacob La Haye, in a late seventeenth-century travel report, had accused Flacourt of simply lying and describing imaginary resources.⁴⁷ He was followed by the Abbé Prévost, who in his influential Histoire générale des voyages of 1750 suspected the governor of Fort-Dauphin of glossing over conditions in Madagascar in order to gain support for his colonisation project.⁴⁸ Rousselot de Surgy likewise accused Flacourt of disguising reality.⁴⁹ This negative opinion of Flacourt is also reflected in the article on Madagascar in the Encyclopédie of 1765. Its author, Louis de Jaucourt, went so far as to claim that Flacourt had no knowledge of Madagascar, as Maudave noted in horror in his diary.⁵⁰ This observation, however, prevented neither Jaucourt nor the other authors of the Encyclopédie from veritably exploiting the Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar for the more than 200 entries that deal with, or mention, the Great Island.⁵¹ How, then, was Flacourt able to become an authority for Maudave and his epigones, and how could Madagascar and its inhabitants be so radically upvalued? Maudave read the Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar in the light of new colonial political ideas that had emerged in “philosophical” texts only a few years earlier. These writings included a book published in 1763 by the Abbé Nicolas Baudeau on the East Indian trade entitled “Ideas of a Citizen on the Power of the King and National Commerce in the Orient” (Idées d’un Citoyen sur la puissance du Roi et le commerce de la Nation dans l’Orient). That year marked the beginning of Nicolas Baudeau’s career as a journalist; as editor of the journal Les Éphémérides du citoyen, founded in 1765, he soon became one of the leading physiocrats.⁵² The attention he paid to colonial issues is one of gouvernement de ses peuples […], Amsterdam 1686; [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage de Madagascar.  La Haye, Journal, 81.  Prévost, Histoire générale des Voyages, vol. 8, 597.  Rousselot de Surgy, Mélanges interessans, 138 f.  “Madagascar”, in Encyclopédie, vol. 9, 839 – 840; MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 55 f.  A search on the ARTFL Encyclopédie Project website yields 255 hits. This shows that Jaucourt in his numerous articles on the geography, social structures and natural history of Madagascar was strongly inspired by Flacourt. See, among others, the articles on the peoples and social groups of Madagascar: “Ambohistmenes”, “Ampatres”, “Anachimoussi”, “Anacandrians”, “Ansianactes”, “Anatavares”, “Casimambous”, “Ombiasses”, “Ondeves”, “Ondzatsi”, “Rohandrians”, in ARTFL Encyclopédie Project, http://encyclopedie.uchicago.edu/node/176 (last accessed July 20, 2015).  Dauchez, Chantal, “‘L’économiste inconnu’. Essai biographique de l’abbé Nicolas Baudeau (1730 – 1792)”, in: Alain Clément (ed.), Nicolas Baudeau. Un “philosophe économiste” au temps des Lumières, Paris 2008, 22– 45.

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Baudeau’s special characteristics. In Idées d’un Citoyen, he proposed to make Madagascar and the Mascarenes a “second motherland” (“une seconde métropole”) in which all the “cultivations and manufactures” (“cultivations et manufactures”) of Africa and Asia would flourish and numerous people from these two continents would be resident.⁵³ In particular, Baudeau thought of the purchase of slaves who, within the framework of military service, could be manumissioned, civilised, converted to Catholicism and transformed into citizens. However, there was no talk as yet of civilising the indigenous population as a whole.⁵⁴ This idea only appeared in 1766 in his essay on the colonisation of Louisiana, which he had printed in the Éphémérides. Although Louisiana at this point in time no longer belonged to France but to Spain, Baudeau assumed that the Iberian kingdom would be firmly connected with France through the Bourbon family pact (Pacte de famille), in which he saw nothing less than the “the salvation of all of Europe”.⁵⁵ The journalist proposed the establishment of a Franco-Spanish-Sicilian trading company that would buy African slaves and turn them into “free people” and “true citizens of Louisiana”.⁵⁶ In addition to this project, he advocated the civilising of the Indians which, in his opinion, “should have been one of the most important aims of colonial policy in North America”.⁵⁷ The similarity with Maudave’s Madagascar project of the following year is therefore remarkable. It is not clear whether Maudave ever read Baudeau’s texts but directly or indirectly, his memoranda on Madagascar bear the stamp of physiocracy. The physiocrats developed a general conception of history into which Maudave was able to integrate Flacourt’s idea of a civilising colonial expansion. Only a few years earlier, the Marquis de Mirabeau had coined the terms “civilisation” and “barbarie” in his much-acclaimed book L’Ami des hommes (“The Friend of Mankind”; 1756). Mirabeau, who strongly influenced the Abbé Baudeau, was concerned with singing the praises of the Christian religion which made human manners softer. Other physiocrats adopted the term “civilisation” and

 Baudeau, Nicolas, called the abbé, Idées d’un Citoyen sur la puissance du Roi et le commerce de la Nation dans l’Orient, Amsterdam 1763, 16 – 21.  Ibid., 23 – 28.  [Baudeau, Nicolas], “Des colonies françaises aux Indes occidentales”, in: Éphémérides du citoyen ou Chroniques de l’esprit national, issue 5 (1766), 17– 78, 32 f.: “le salut de l’Europe entière”.  Ibid., 70: “les transformer en hommes libres, en Cultivateurs industrieux, en vrais Citoyens de la Louisiane”.  Ibid., 60: “La civilisation des Amériquains Septentrionaux auroit dû sans doute être considérée comme un des premiers objets de la politique qui dirigeoit nos Colonies.”

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conceptualised it as a long-term societal process, thus bringing together a number of earlier concepts: the softening of manners; the education of mind, arts and sciences; the flourishing of trade and industry; the acquisition of comforts and luxuries. This conceptual conflation of education, morality and trade, of spirit and money, was by no means self-evident at the time, for numerous philosophes adhered to the classical republican criticism of luxury, and even the Marquis de Mirabeau saw the development of luxury as a “false civilisation”.⁵⁸ A decisive role in this mixing and melding of ideas of economic and moral development was the general history of human progress that crystallised in the 1750s. Scholarship usually cites the speeches that Turgot delivered at the Sorbonne in 1750 as the earliest example. Although the physiocrat Turgot did not invent the idea of progress, he was one of the first to present a universal-historical narrative. Soon, these concepts enjoyed great success throughout Europe and from the 1760s, and especially from the 1770s, led to the emergence of the stadial theory of history that classified societies according to their mode of subsistence (hunter-gatherer nations; pastoral nations; agrarian nations; trading nations).⁵⁹ Such concepts of history were often accompanied by a changed view of peoples. Since the beginning of European expansion, many had been labelled “uncivilised”, “barbaric” or “savage”. The new universal history now suggested increasingly that they were destined for civilisation.⁶⁰ The idea that the “savage” peoples could, and should, be improved morally (policer) was not new, as Flacourt’s Histoire shows. However, it was established firmly in the new universal-historical framework. The physiocrats thus opened up new perspectives for colonial policies. In 1771 Dupont de Nemours in the Éphémérides du citoyen proposed to establish colonies in Africa where a local free labour force would produce the same products that were imported from Caribbean settlements.⁶¹ From

 Mirabeau wrote about a “fausse civilisation”; see Starobinski, Jean, Le Remède dans le mal. Critique et légitimation de l’artifice à l’âge des Lumières, Paris 1989, 7– 22.  Löwith, Weltgeschichte und Heilsgeschehen, 95 – 98; Passmore, John, The Perfectibility of Man, London 1970, 195; Mortier, Roland, “‘Lumière’ et ‘Lumières’. Histoire d’une image et d’une idée”, in: idem, Clartés et ombres au siècle des Lumières. Études sur les XVIIIe siècle littéraire, Genève 1969, 13 – 59, 35 f.; Spadafora, David, The Idea of Progress in Eighteenth-Century Britain, New Haven 1990, 8, 228, 246; Sebastiani, The Scottish Enlightenment, 6. Thomas Nutz is sceptical about whether one can really find the origin of this concept of history.  Duchet, Anthropologie et Histoire, 48.  Dupont de Nemours, Pierre Samuel, “Observations sur l’esclavage des nègres”, in: Éphémérides du citoyen, issue 6 (1771), 162– 246, 243. For these new physiocratic ideas of a colonisation in Africa, see Røge, Pernille, Économistes and the Reinvention of Empire. France in the Americas and Africa, 1750 – 1802, Cambridge 2019.

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1774 onwards, authors of memoranda outlined a project of civilising the natives of South America under French rule, beginning with Guyana.⁶² Similar plans for expansion through a civilising of the “savages” and “barbarians” also characterised the Spanish and Russian frontier policies of these years.⁶³ With his texts about Madagascar from 1767– 1771, Maudave contributed to the further development of the physiocratic theories of civilisation. Several years before the blossoming of the theory of societal stages, he abandoned the strict dichotomy between the state of savagery and that of civilisation. Maudave characterised the Malagasy as a “still rural people” (“peuple […] encore agreste”) that was clearly different from the “savages” of Canada. The former were “less wild” (“moins féroces”) and less lazy than the latter. They had “some notions” (“quelques idées”) of good political and social order, trade, the arts and even writing.⁶⁴ The experience with the Malagasy slaves on Île de France showed that the Malagasy were “slow in everything they do, but gentle and peaceful”.⁶⁵ The governor of Fort-Dauphin linked this with the fact that they were mostly shepherds.⁶⁶ Thus, as early as the 1760s, Maudave placed the Malagasy within a graduated model that classified societies according to their mode of subsistence. By categorising the Malagasy as a “pastoral people”, he turned his back on the classification of the Malagasy among the “savage” peoples which had been common since the seventeenth century. One part at least of the French political elite seems to have believed in the seventeenth century that the Malagasy did not have any knowledge of agriculture. When the Governor of Fort-Dauphin, François Lopès, Marquis de Mondevergue, complained that the region produced very little food, Louis XIV and Colbert replied that nothing else could be expected from a “savage” people who had no agricultural knowledge whatsoever.⁶⁷ Mondevergue may have known that this was not true, but he, like other authors of memoranda of his time, referred to the Malagasy as “savages”.⁶⁸ A century

 ANOM, DFC, XII/Mémoires/61, no. 207, Considérations sur les malheurs de la France, pour servir d’introduction à un essai sur Cayenne, par M. de Meuron, 1774; ANOM, DFC, XII/Mémoires/61, no. 218, Précis sur les Indiens, par M. de Besner, 1774.  Weber, Barbaros; Vul’pius, “Vesternizacija Rossii”.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, fol. 1, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 5, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767: “ils sont lents dans leurs opérations mais doux et paisibles.”  Ibid.  ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 26, fol. 2, Louis XIV to Mondevergue, 19 January 1669.  See, among others, ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 7, fols. 1– 5, “Mémoire sur les moyens d’établir une puissante compagnie pour le négoce des Indes orientales”, 1664; ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 21, fol. 2, “Relation de ce qui s’est passé à l’Île Dauphine, depuis le premier mars 1668”, 1 October 1668.

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later and influenced by the stadial theory of history, Maudave presented a different view. The Madagascar discourse provided a framework in which notions of the universal-historical stages of development and the associated role models for those who were “civilised” could be further developed and propagated. Maudave’s influence is visible, for example, when Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, speaks of the Malagasy as a “pastoral and peasant people” in a letter announcing to the administrators of Île de France the establishment of a settlement by Beňovský.⁶⁹ Several authors of memoranda also emphasise that the Malagasy were neither cruel nor savage.⁷⁰ Like Maudave, they placed these islanders at the upper end of a scale of not-yet-civilised peoples, to emphasise that they could easily be made into a fully civilised nation.⁷¹ Following the physiocrats, these authors of memoranda linked civilisation with the emergence of a taste for luxury and industriousness and consequently, they anticipated a future expansion of trade.⁷² However, Maudave’s most significant innovation was that he must have been the first Frenchman to formulate the idea of a civilising mission. He first put this idea on paper in 1772 when after his departure from Madagascar, he again tried to win over the Minister of the Navy for his great expansion project. In this letter, Maudave heightened his rhetoric of a historical rupture by loading it with religious terminology: the founding of a new colony should not follow the usual rules, because it was “a kind of political mission” (“une sorte de mission polit-

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 42, Boynes to Ternay and Maillart, 19 March 1773: “un peuple pasteur et agricole”.  See ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 8, “Détails de ce qui s’est passé au Fort Dauphin en 17 61. Extrait du voyage de M. Legentil”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 14, anon., “Mémoire sur un établissement à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 51, Reflections on Millon’s memorandum, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 99, “Essai sur Madagascar”, 1816 – 1817; C 5 A 2, no. 66, fol. 1, excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  See ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 2, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 19, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 10, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 89, fols. 1, 3, “Observations sur les réflexions que le monseigneur le maréchal de Castries fit l’autre jour à M. le comte de Kersalaü n”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 90, fol. 1, “Sur le memoire de M. le comte de Kersalaü n”, 7 September 1786; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 93, fol. 2, “Réflexions politiques sur l’établissement de Madagascar proposé par M. de Kersalaü n”, 9 February 1787; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, n o. 95, fol. 1, memorandum by Kerguelen, 28 October 1792.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 25, fol. 1, anon., “Note sur le commerce de Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 79, p. 52, diary of La Serre.

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ique”).⁷³ Settlers, craftsmen and soldiers were to be “regarded as apostles of the state, as it were”.⁷⁴ This recourse to the terminology of a religious mission went beyond previous pleas for a policy of civilising, for it implied a moral obligation to colonial expansion. It was precisely this idea that Raynal took up in 1780 in the third edition of his History of the Two Indies for which he had fundamentally revised the chapter on Madagascar. He dropped the damning images of the island of the earlier versions and replaced them with ideas that resembled Maudave’s views. According to Raynal, the Malagasy lived in an extremely rich natural environment but led an unstable life, had no religion and abandoned themselves entirely to their passions.⁷⁵ Nevertheless, one could observe in them “a nascent insight and diligence”.⁷⁶ They were “sociable by nature, lively, cheerful, vain and self-discerning”.⁷⁷ When the French arrived on the Great Island in the middle of the seventeenth century, the natives were “tired of wars and the state of anarchy in which they constantly lived” and “yearned for an institution of government which would give them the enjoyment of peace and liberty”.⁷⁸ The peaceful subjugation of the island should have been an easy task: By the gentle way of persuasion; by the all too seductive lures of happiness; by the charms of a quiet life; by the advantages of our state institutions; by the enjoyment of our industriousness; by the superiority of our insights, the whole island must be led to a final goal equally useful to both nations.⁷⁹

A colony could thus have been established much more cheaply than in America; the “numerous, docile, sensible people […] who only needed guidance” – intermingled with Europeans, Indians and Chinese – would have produced all the goods for trade with both Indies.⁸⁰ Instead, however, the French made them-

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 38, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.  Ibid.: “doivent être considérés en quelque sorte comme des Apôtres d’État”.  Raynal, Guillaume-Thomas, A Philosophical and Political History of the Settlements and Trade of the Europeans in the East and West Indies, 8 vols., London 1783, vol. 2, 254– 260 (English translation of idem, Histoire philosophique et politique des établissemens et du commerce des européens dans les deux Indes, 10 vols., Genève 1780).  Ibid., 261.  Ibid.  Ibid., 263.  Ibid., 264.  Ibid., 262 f.

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selves unpopular with the Malagasy through their immoral and tyrannical behaviour.⁸¹ Raynal closes the chapter with a fiery appeal to politicians. He charges them with a responsibility to future generations for making the Malagasy an enlightened people: What an honour it would be for France to drag a people out of the abomination of barbarism; to introduce them to honourable customs, good order, wise laws, a benevolent religion, useful and pleasant arts, to elevate them to the rank of enlightened and civilised nations? Statesmen, may the wishes of philosophy, the wishes of a fellow citizen reach you! If it is beautiful to change the face of the earth in order to make people happy, if the honour that springs from it belongs to those who are the rulers of empires, know that they are accountable to their century and the generations to come not only for the evil they do, but also for the good they could do, and which they do not do.⁸²

This formulation of a civilising mission was very successful and was adopted in other writings on Madagascar, even those with a Rousseauist flavour, such as that of the astronomer Rochon: Europeans who travel to these regions, pass on your knowledge and your skills [vos lumières et vos connoissances] to these peoples you call savage. Make it your duty and your law to show them that justice, that equality, that love that should reign among the beings of a species. Your enlightened century [les lumières de votre siècle] does not permit you to fail to recognise this sacred duty.⁸³

Also with Rochon, one is struck by the almost religious charge of the proposed course of colonial policy. Through his early formulation of the idea of a civilising mission, Maudave thus exerted a tremendous influence on French intellectual history. Yet, his name is only rarely mentioned in scholarship concerned with this field.⁸⁴ The neglect of his person goes together with more fundamental questions about how the history of ideas should be written. That an idea as central to the modern era as a civilising mission was formulated for the first time in manuscripts by an author from a colony in the Indian Ocean before it was disseminated in  Ibid., 267 f.  Ibid., 268 f.  Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar, 12 f.: “Européens, qui voyagez dans ces contrées éloignées, communiquez à ces peuples que vous nommez sauvages, vos lumières et vos connoissances. Faites-vous un devoir et une loi de leur montrer cette justice, cette égalité, cet attachement qui doivent regner entre des êtres de même espèce: les lumières de votre siècle ne vous permettent plus de méconnoître ce devoir sacré.”  An exception is Duchet, Anthropologie et Histoire, 55, 131, 212– 218.

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print by some philosophes from the mother country, necessitates a twofold decentring of intellectual history. First, not only published material but also the unprinted word promises new insights into the history of ideas of the eighteenth century. Second, less concentration on the renowned philosophes of the mother country would be desirable. The case of Maudave shows that even actors from overseas who were not published could be founders of a discourse and, indirectly, exert great influence on discussions in the motherland.

Philosophers and Politicians But how did Maudave’s innovations find their way into the writings of the Paris philosophes? Here, a group of Enlightenment authors from overseas played a central role. There existed on Île de France a circle of men who appropriated the persona of the philosophe ⁸⁵ and who may therefore be considered protagonists of the colonial Enlightenment. These philosophes of the Indian Ocean who wrote memoranda on Madagascar included the engineer and erudite plantation owner Joseph-François Charpentier de Cossigny de Palma.⁸⁶ Cossigny was a prolific author who, from the 1770s to the 1810s, published numerous texts on agronomy, chemical experiments, trade and the economy of the Mascarenes as well as an account of a voyage to Canton.⁸⁷ He was a correspondent for numerous academies and famous for his botanical garden. Moreover, he was Maudave’s “neighbour” and

 For this persona, see Damien Tricoire, “The Fabrication of the philosophe: Catholicisms, Court Culture and the Origins of the Enlightenment Moralism,” in: Journal for Eighteenth-Century Studies, 51/4 (2018), 453 – 477.  See Charpentier de Cossigny, Joseph François, in Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vol. 1 (1941), 11– 12.  See, among others, Charpentier de Cossigny, Joseph-François, Lettre sur les arbres à épiceries […]; et Lettre sur le café, no place 1775; idem, Notes sommaires en réponse aux Observations sommaires sur le mémoire publié pour la colonie de l’Isle de France, contre le privilège exclusif de la Compagnie des Indes, Paris 1790 ; idem, Notes sommaires; idem, Réflexions sur le plan d’une banque territoriale, Paris 1797; idem, Voyage à Canton, Capitale de la Province de ce nom, à la Chine; Par Gorée, le Cap de Bonne-Espérance, et les Isles de France et de la Réunion. Suivi d’observations sur le voyage en Chine, de Lord Macartne et du citoyen Van-Braam et d’une esquisse des arts des Indiens et des Chinois, par le C. Charpentier Cossigny, Ex-ingénieur, Paris, an VII de la République française [1798]; idem, Moyens d’amélioration et de restauration proposés au gouvernement et aux habitans des colonies; ou Mélanges politiques, économiques, agricoles et commerciaux, etc., relatifs aux colonies, 3 vols., Paris 1803 ; idem, Recherches physiques et chimiques sur la fabrication de la poudre à canon, Paris 1807; idem, Supplément aux Recherches physiques et chimiques sur la fabrication de la poudre à canon, Paris 1808; idem, Observation sur le Manuel du commerce des Indes orientales et de la Chine, no place 1808.

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“friend” on Île de France. In 1772, during a trip to France, he acted as Maudave’s lawyer and soon sought to succeed him as governor on the Great Island.⁸⁸ Besides, Cossigny was a shipowner and active in the slave trade in Madagascar, although he rarely addressed this activity in public.⁸⁹ His father Jean-François already had been sent to Antongil Bay by the French India Company in 1733 to find out whether to establish a settlement there.⁹⁰ Cossigny the Elder had given a negative answer to this question, quite unlike his son some forty years later, who claimed that he would work for the Malagasy cause until the end of his life, just as “Las Casas […] had worked for the Indians all his life”.⁹¹ However, by what he called the “Malagasy cause”, Cossigny did not mean the end of their enslavement but their being civilised through colonial subjugation. In the 1770s Cossigny was one of the most prolific of the Madagascar-enthusiastic authors of memoranda and as late as 1803, he brought up for discussion the project of a “soft” colonial expansion on the Great Island.⁹² At the beginning of 1773, Cossigny claimed to have written a memorandum as early as 1765 that anticipated Maudave’s project; however, this claim cannot be verified in the colonial archives.⁹³ He regretted very much that in 1772, the Minister of the Navy had chosen the “adventurer” Beňovský rather than himself for the post of commander of Madagascar. He, Cossigny, would have subdued the Great Island by a soft policy and, unlike Beňovský, would not have failed. The sources suggest that Maudave more likely influenced his neighbour Cossigny rather than the other way round, but one may assume a lively exchange between the two. They belonged to a small circle of “philosophically” active personalities on Île de France that was patronised by Intendant Pierre Poivre. This  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 64, Maudave to Boynes, 3 April 1772.  ANOM, E 26 (Bequet), Chevreau to Bequet, 1779.  Wanquet, “Joseph-François Charpentier de Cossigny”, 71 f.  Charpentier de Cossigny, Observations sur les colonies, 244: “Las Casas, de touchante mémoire, a passé sa vie à plaider pour les malheureux Indiens; je parlerai en faveur des bons Madécasses, jusqu’à mon dernier soupir”.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 1, fol. 5, Cossigny to the Foreign Minister, 25 December 1772; MAE, Asie 4, no. 2, fols. 6 – 11, “Mémoire [de Cossigny] sur l’établissement français à Madagascar”, 21 December 1772; MAE, Asie 4, no. 3, fols. 12– 16, “Par M. Cossigny. Mémoire sur un établissement à Madagascar”, n.d.; MAE, Asie 4, no. 4., fols. 17– 23, “Fait par M. Cossigny. Observations sur le projet d’un établissement à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 86, Cossigny to a clerk at the Ministry of the Navy, 1 January 1773; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, [Cossigny], “Mémoire où l’on se propose un établissement à Madagascar et où l’on s’attache à en prouver l’importance et l’avantage”, n.d. In Cossigny’s printed work[s]: Charpentier de Cossigny, Observation sur le Manuel du commerce, 8; Charpentier de Cossigny, Voyage à Canton, 44– 47 and, above all, Charpentier de Cossigny, Moyens d’amélioration, 232– 272.  OM, C 5 A 3, 87, fol. 5, memorandum by Cossigny, 1 January 1773.

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famous physiocrat had succeeded in attracting to the island scholars with whom he wanted to found a kind of academy.⁹⁴ Among these philosophes, several expressed ideas about Madagascar similar to those of Maudave and Cossigny, for example the natural historian Commerson.⁹⁵ With the exception of Maudave and Cossigny, the scholars in Poivre’s circle did not submit any colonisation projects to the ministry or recommend their services for a colony in Madagascar. However, they only published their impressions and theses some years later in the form of travel reports. The first of these texts appeared in 1779. It was the travel account of the astronomer Guillaume Legentil de La Galaisière who on three occasions in 1761, 1762 and 1763 spent one to four months in Madagascar. Legentil was an astronomy adjunct at the Royal Academy of Sciences who, between 1760 and 1771, experienced a veritable odyssey in the region of the Indian Ocean. He had sailed to India to observe the transit of Venus in Pondicherry in 1761 but was unable to reach this colony because in the meantime, the British had taken it. Legentil decided to wait in the “East Indies” for the next transit of Venus in 1769 and, in the meantime, travelled to Île de France, Île Bourbon, Île Rodrigue, Madagascar, Southeast India and Manila. On Île de France he met the former Queen of Nosy Boraha, Betia, whom he praised in his writings years later.⁹⁶ He also travelled with La Bigorne who at that time was royal trade clerk and envoy in Mahavelona and on Nosy Boraha.⁹⁷ In 1769 Legentil sailed to Pondicherry but was again unable to observe the transit of Venus because the sky was overcast that night. He returned to France via Île de France in 1771 and found that in the mother country, he had already been declared dead. Legentil was forced to conduct a protracted trial over the next few years in order to regain his property and his seat in the Academy. He never succeeded in the former.⁹⁸

 See Commerson’s letter to Lalande of 15 February 1769, in Cap, Paul-Antoine, Philibert Commerson, naturaliste, voyageur. Étude biographique, suivie d’un appendice, Paris 1861, 112– 113, here 113. Also see Commerson, Philibert, in Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vol. 4 (1942), 115 – 116.  Cap, Commerson, 117– 125. Among those whom Maudave originally managed to enthuse with his Madagascar dream was Bernardin de Saint-Pierre who later became a famous writer; see Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Jacques-Henri, Article “Madagascar”, in idem, Paul et Virginie, ed. JeanMichel Racault, Paris 1999, 333 – 336.  “Betia”, in Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vol. 35 (1975), 1022– 1024.  “Filet dit La Bigorne, Louis”, in: Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vol. 23 (1948), 694– 695.  Decary, Raymond, “Les Voyages de Le Gentil dans les mers des Indes et à Madagascar au XVIIIe siècle”, in: Bulletin de l’académie malgache, nouvelle série 18 (1935), 25 – 40; McClellan/Regourd, McClellan/Regourd, “The Colonial Machine”, 38; “Legentil de la Galaissière, Guil-

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All the familiar elements of the late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar can be found in Legentil’s Voyage dans les mers des Indes (“Voyage on the East Indian Seas”). The astronomer wrote almost euphorically about the beauty and fertility of the island as well as the gentleness and wisdom of its inhabitants. He attached particular importance to refuting the image of the Malagasy as cruel barbarians and recommended the colonisation of the island and the subjugation of the “naturels” by soft means.⁹⁹ His closeness to Maudave thus cannot be overlooked and the question arises as to who actually influenced whom. It is quite possible that Legentil’s journey drew Maudave’s attention to Madagascar. Yet, it is unlikely that the future governor of Fort-Dauphin was inspired by Legentil’s writings, since the astronomer obviously wrote his account of the journey later, that is several years after Maudave’s failure and at a time when the late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar was already widely known. Though it cannot be proven, in view of the sources it seems likely that Legentil’s travel narrative was the decisive factor in Raynal’s decision to rewrite from scratch the chapter on Madagascar in the History of the Two Indies. These two texts were soon joined by other printed writings which spread the late Enlightenment ideas about Madagascar. Pierre Sonnerat, another philosophe in Poivre’s circle, dealt with Madagascar in his book “Voyage to the East Indies and China” (Voyage aux Indes orientales et à la Chine) which was published in 1782. Sonnerat had come to Île de France at Poivre’s instigation in 1768 to work as a botanist and natural historian. He had taken part in expeditions that were to bring new spice trees to the Mascarene Islands.¹⁰⁰ In his travel report, he mixed the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse that prevailed in the environment of the Ministry of the Navy with the Rousseauist idealisation of a happy state of nature. In Sonnerat’s writings, the inhabitants of the Great Island appear as beings who “in blissful ignorance […] knew neither crime nor virtue” until the arrival of the French.¹⁰¹ They would have regarded the French as gods who had “descended from the sun to give them laws”.¹⁰² However, the Europeans had passed on their vices to these innocent children of nature. Since these islanders should be treated but gently, Sonnerat concluded that it

laume Joseph Hyacynthe Jean Baptiste”, in Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vol. 1 (1941), 24.  Le Gentil [Legentil] de La Galaisière, Guillaume, Voyage dans les mers des Indes fait par ordre du roi, Paris 1779, 94– 123, 277– 385.  Sonnerat, Pierre, in: Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vol. 18 (1945), 561– 562.  Sonnerat, Voyage aux Indes Orientales, 55: “Avant de nous connoître, les Madégasses vivoient dans cette heureuse ignorance du crime ou de la vertu.”  Ibid.: “une nation qui, selon eux, étoit descendue du Soleil pour leur donner des loix”.

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was doubtful whether the French, who generally did not consider the “blacks” human beings, would ever succeed in gaining a foothold in Madagascar.¹⁰³ Alexis Rochon also moved in Poivre’s circle and, like Legentil and Sonnerat, he brought plants to Poivre from Southeast Asia. The Abbé Rochon, as he was called, was also on friendly terms with Legentil.¹⁰⁴ On Île de France, he met Legentil’s acquaintances who knew Madagascar, for example La Bigorne, and from them collected information about the Great Island.¹⁰⁵ Rochon was a famous astronomer who in 1771 took part in Kerguelen’s expedition to discover and explore the “Terra Australis”. However, he fell out with the navigator and, with Poivre’s agreement, remained on Île de France where he was when Beňovský arrived from Macau. In the years that followed, Rochon not only became a member of several academies but also Astronomer and Optician of the Navy, Director of the Royal Astronomy Cabinet, Inspector of the Minting Machines and Commissioner General of the Royal Mint.¹⁰⁶ The French Revolution must have been a painful break for him, as he lost all his posts.¹⁰⁷ In 1791 Rochon published his Rousseauist-inspired Voyage à Madagascar (“Journey to Madagascar”) which was in the Maudavian discursive tradition.¹⁰⁸ The Abbé’s explicit aim in publishing his work was to publicise the advantages that could be gained from settling on the Great Island.¹⁰⁹ He explained the failures to date by claiming that the Europeans had behaved “unjustly and barbarically” on the Great Island instead of establishing themselves long term by educating the Malagasy towards industriousness.¹¹⁰ For Rochon the violent Beňovský stood pars pro toto for the Europeans in Madagascar. The astronomer recounts in his book that he immediately recognised Beňovský as an impostor  Ibid.  Along with Legentil, he strongly criticised the nautical theses of the Chevalier Grenier; see BnF, NAF no. 9345, fols. 302– 308, “Lettres du chevalier Grenier défendant ses travaux contre les critiques de l’abbé Rochon et de Le Gentil [Legentil]”, 1771– 1774.  Filet dit La Bigorne, Louis, in: Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vol. 23 (1948), 694– 695.  Quérard, Joseph-Marie, “Rochon (l’abbé Alexis-Marie)”, in: La France littéraire ou dictionnaire bibliographique des savants, historiens et gens de lettres de la France, ainsi que les littérateurs étrangers qui ont écrit en français, plus particulièrement pendant les XVIIIè et XIXè siècles, Paris 1836, 100 – 101; Fauque, Danielle, “L’abbé Alexis-Marie de Rochon (1741– 1817), astronome et opticien de la marine”, in: Jean Balcou (ed.), La Mer au siècle des encyclopédies, Paris 1987, 175 – 183; “Rochon, Alexis Marie, dit l’Abbé Rochon”, in Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vol. 1 (1941), 31– 32.  Quérard, “Rochon”; Fauque, “L’abbé Alexis-Marie de Rochon”.  Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar.  Ibid., V–VI.  Ibid., 2: “injuste et barbare”. Similarly in ibid., 99 f.

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and that he informed Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, about this (Rochon’s claim cannot be verified on the basis of archival material).¹¹¹ In any case, Rochon believed that “anyone who had studied primitive man with Rousseau” knew that these islanders had been forced to commit treason and murder solely by the tyranny of the Europeans.¹¹² This Rousseauist idealisation of the Malagasy as “savages” who knew neither vice nor virtue did not, however, prevent him from calling on the “Europeans” to civilise the islanders.¹¹³ The scholars Legentil, Sonnerat and Rochon certainly never had the ambition to lead a colony but instead wanted to distinguish themselves as philosophes. The idea of a “soft” colonisation could function as an instrument to give oneself the image of a humanitarian and promoter of progress. Legentil and Rochon certainly needed this self-fashioning at the time of the publication of their travel narratives as Rochon was at the nadir of his career and Legentil was struggling to regain his social position. Raynal’s case also shows that the Madagascar discourse could be of interest with a view to one’s own philosophical profile. Raynal, who with his bestseller had become one of the most famous Enlightenment thinkers, had made a career for himself as a client of Choiseul, the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the Navy. Since Raynal was paid for his historiographical efforts by the Ministry of the Navy,¹¹⁴ it is safe to assume that the History of the Two Indies originally was a commissioned work. After the overthrow of the Choiseuls in 1770, Raynal had offered his services principally to Jacques Necker, who was himself close to Choiseul and had seized control of the French India Company. For these reasons, some parts of the History of the Two Indies read like a pamphlet for Necker.¹¹⁵ It is therefore not surprising that the ideas of Maudave, who also was a client of Praslin, can be found again in this work and that the politically sensitive failure of the French count is passed over.¹¹⁶ The patronage by politicians of scholars who were active in the Indian Ocean points to a phenomenon that is of central importance for the history of ideas in this period: the French Enlightenment writers did not act outside the political system, as the classic image of lone warriors against the Ancien Régime or

 Ibid., 197– 224.  Ibid., 40 – 42: “ces absurdes déclamations ne peuvent en imposer qu’à ceux qui n’ont pas étudié avec Rousseau l’homme dans son état primitif”.  Ibid., 12 f., 16 f., 18 f.  Duchet, Anthropologie et Histoire, 129.  Pečar/Tricoire, Falsche Freunde, 129 – 152.  Raynal, Philosophical and Political History, vol. 2, 253 – 269.

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that of a writing proletariat of Grub Street suggests.¹¹⁷ On the contrary, influential politicians often acted as patrons of Enlightenment philosophes and pamphleteers alike. After the Seven Years War, these patrons of the philosophes constituted the most influential “party”. The court faction around Madame de Pompadour and Choiseul took power in 1758. Voltaire, Raynal, Diderot, d’Alembert, Malesherbes, Mirabeau the Elder, Morellet, Quesnay and also Poivre were either close to this faction or even belonged to it.¹¹⁸ The physiocrat Turgot was intendant of Limousin. In the summer of 1774, he became Minister of the Navy for a short time, and from 1774 to 1776 served as Minister of Finance. Necker played a decisive political role not only in the India Company, but also as Minister of Finance between 1776 and 1781 and again in 1789.¹¹⁹ Queen Marie-Antoinette, perhaps the most important person at the court of Louis XVI when it came to the distribution of offices and royal favours, acted as patroness of some philosophes. ¹²⁰ Without knowledge of the history of court politics, it is almost impossible to understand the success of the Enlightenment in France.¹²¹ The Enlightenment of Île de France was a nodal point in a network which had at its centre the Versailles court factions. Philosophy was an important political catchword during the age of Enlightenment, which also partly explains the enduring fascination with the Madagascar discourse in the late eighteenth century. During the French Revolution and the First Empire, a series of printed works appeared which were even more clearly in the tradition of the Maudavian discourse than those of Sonnerat and Rochon: Kerguelen’s “Memorandum on Madagascar” (Mémoire sur l’isle de Madagascar, 1792); Leclerc de Montlinot’s “Essay on Transportation as Reward” (Essai sur la transportation comme récompense, 1796), who considered Madagascar the most interesting of all possessions (“possessions”) of the French overseas

 Darnton, Robert, “The High Enlightenment and the Low-life of Literature in Pre-revolutionary France”, in: Past and Present 51 (1971), 81– 105; idem, The Literary Underground of the Old Regime, Cambridge (Mass.) 1982. For Darnton’s “Grub street” theory, see Burrows, Simon, Blackmail, Scandal, and Revolution. London’s French Libellistes, 1758 – 1792, Manchester 2006, 10 f.  Chaussinand-Nogaret, Guy, Choiseul. Naissance de la gauche, Paris 1998, 103 – 122. For Madame de Pompadour’s political career, see Lever, Evelyne, Madame de Pompadour. Eine Biographie, Mü nchen 2008.  Harris, R. D., Necker. Reform Statesman of the Ancien Régime, Berkeley 1979.  Horowski, Leonhard, Die Belagerung des Thrones. Machtstrukturen und Karrieremechanismen am Hof von Frankreich 1661 – 1789, Ostfildern 2012, 355 – 366. For Marie-Antoinette as admirer of Rousseau, see Schama, Der zaudernde Citoyen, 164 f.  Simon Burrows emphasises that many radical pamphlets were commissioned by court personages; see Burrows, Blackmail, Scandal, and Revolution. Also see Pečar/Tricoire, Falsche Freunde, 173 – 181.

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empire;¹²² Daniel Lescallier’s “Memorandum on the Island of Madagascar” (“Mémoire relatif à l’île de Madagascar”, 1803);¹²³ Charpentier de Cossigny’s “Means for Improvement and Restoration, suggested to the Government and the Inhabitants of the Colonies” (Moyens d’amélioration et de restauration proposés au gouvernement et aux habitants des colonies, 1803);¹²⁴ Bory de Saint-Vincent’s “Voyage to, and Travels through the Four Principal Islands of the African Seas” (Voyage dans les quatre principales isles des mers d’Afrique, 1804), which, however, treats Madagascar rather cursorily;¹²⁵ and Fressanges’s “Travels to Madagascar” (Voyages à Madagascar, 1809).¹²⁶ From 1772 to about 1810, the printed texts about Madagascar all suggested colonial expansion and almost unanimously followed Maudave’s descriptions and proposals.¹²⁷ Clearly, these topoi dominated the French public sphere. The printed “philosophical” texts on Madagascar could often develop a certain authority and influence administrators, politicians and the authors of memoranda. Thus, excerpts from Legentil’s travels were copied for the archive of the Ministry of the Navy.¹²⁸ Cossigny’s memoranda on Madagascar also received particular attention because this author had acquired a reputation as a philosophe. At any rate, a clerk wrote into the margin of a memorandum: “M. de Cossigni. Mérite une grande attention”.¹²⁹ Cossigny had a direct influence on Lescallier and Decaen.¹³⁰ Rochon’s idealisation of the Great Island probably influenced Gouly’s plans for a penal colony. In his travel report of 1791, Rochon had argued in favour of the deportation of prisoners as a means of opening up not only Madagascar but also Africa, Asia and America. These offenders would lead a decent

 Leclerc de Montlinot, Essai sur la transportation, 29 – 51, quotation 29.  Lescallier, “Mémoire relatif à l’île de Madagascar” (first published in: Collection des classes de Littérature et Beaux-Arts et des Sciences morales et politiques de l’Institut national de France 4 [1803], 1– 26).  Charpentier de Cossigny, Moyens d’amélioration, especially 232– 318.  Bory de Saint-Vincent, Jean-Baptiste, Voyage dans les quatres principales iles des mers d’Afrique, fait par ordre du gouvernement dans les années neuf et dix de la république, Paris 1804, vol. 3, 268 – 274.  Fressanges, “Voyage à Madagascar”.  Only Tombe’s description of his travels and Bonaparte’s memorandum on Madagascar are markedly different from the texts listed above; see Tombe, Voyage aux Indes orientales; Bonaparte, Notes sur l’expédition de Madagascar.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 4, excerpts from Legentil’s travel report; DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 6 to 13.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 3, fols. 12– 16, “Par M. Cossigny. Mémoire sur un établissement à Madagascar” (n.d.), here fol. 12.  Prentout, Decaen, 301– 309.

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and industrious life and civilise the “barbaric” peoples.¹³¹ The History of the Two Indies, for its part, directly inspired many memoranda submitted to the Ministry of the Navy.¹³² Kerguelen, the seafarer and author of memoranda, did not hesitate to copy an entire paragraph on the mistakes of the French in the seventeenth century from this generally-known work in which Raynal argues that the India Company should have followed the path of gentleness. However, in doing so, Kerguelen changed the tense. Instead of describing deplorable past events in the past tense like Raynal, he used the present tense to call for an immediate soft colonisation of Madagascar.¹³³ It is also known that Napoléon Bonaparte took the History of the Two Indies with him on his travels. This may in part explain the attention that the First Consul and later Emperor paid to the Great Island.¹³⁴

Legitimising Knowledge in the Age of Enlightenment What were the consequences of the fact that knowledge of Madagascar was significantly influenced by philosophie? The more recent history of knowledge emphasises that for the recognition of information as truth, not only is its media availability necessary, but also its discursive legitimisation. After all, specialised knowledge such as the Madagascar knowledge does not exist in isolation from symbolic universes, which, according to Luckmann and Berger, represent the matrix of socially objectified and subjectively real meaningfulness and the framework for the history of society and the individual.¹³⁵ Thus, the theory according to which the Europeans could civilise, assimilate and dominate the “savages” and “barbarians” through gentle behaviour may be understood as a “theory of legitimisation” that justified a “section of institutionalised action”, namely state enlightened imperial expansion.¹³⁶ In order to gain status as a theory of legitimisation, however, this knowledge had to respect methodological and ethical norms that were related to contemporary symbolic universes.

 Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar, 58 – 69.  For example the memorandum by Schmaltz; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Madagascar”, 2 June 1814.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 95, fol. 1, Kerguelen, “Mémoire intéressant l’île de Madagascar”, 28 October 1792.  For the attention that Bonaparte and his circle paid to Madagascar, see Benot, La démence coloniale, 40 f., 45, 69, 106, 130, 181, 291.  Luckmann/Berger, The Social Construction of Reality, 85 – 95.  Ibid., 101.

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The great efforts made to establish a late Enlightenment discourse on the Great Island show that initially, the legitimacy of the new images of Madagascar could certainly not be presumed. As only a few years earlier in the 1760s, public opinion had been dominated by harsh criticism of the Malagasy, the new images of a gentle and studious people had to be legitimised. Therefore, in what follows, the processes by which the new knowledge was produced will be examined. Here, Luckmann and Berger’s distinction between four types of symbolic universes is useful, namely those of mythology, theology, philosophy and science.¹³⁷ Regarding the late Enlightenment Madagascar knowledge, the extent to which norms were used for the production of knowledge that could be classified as scientific, i. e. the extent to which the differentiation of a scientific symbolic universe can be observed, will be examined in particular. In the rhetoric of writings on Madagascar, one can certainly detect the influence of empiricism, which was one strand of the “scientific revolution” of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In view of their own failures and the criticism that Maudave and Beňovský faced, the appeal to personal experience was an important element in these officers’ strategy of self-defence. The king’s representatives in Madagascar tried to discredit their opponents by pointing out that they had not investigated the Great Island on the ground.¹³⁸ Maudave veritably staged his empirical exploration of the island. In one report he tells how he went to the lake of Ambovo (Fr. Ambouve) and discovered that it could be turned into a harbour. In reality, however, Maudave had already presented this project before he had even set foot in Madagascar. The idea, in fact, had been Flacourt’s, as Maudave admitted elsewhere.¹³⁹ Despite frequent references to knowledge gained through experience, the implicitly low methodological standards of empirical inquiry evident in the memoranda are remarkable. Steven Shapin points out that for the early modern period, scientific methodology overall may be considered to be rather a myth that served to justify a programme of observation and experiment – and thus served the symbolic universe of “science”.¹⁴⁰ But the authors of texts on the

 Ibid., 118 – 121.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 32, fols. 3, 5, Maudave to Praslin, 26 August 1769; C 5 A 3, no. 42, fol. 1, copies of two letters from Maudave to Praslin, 17 and 20 November 1769; C 5 A 3, no. 56, fol. 1, Maudave to Boynes, 10 November 1771; MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 40. Beňovský: C 5 A 3, no. 14, p. 207, “Projet pour fonder une colonie à l’isle de Madagascar”, n.d., and p. 211, “Réflexions sur le projet d’une colonie naissante à Madagascar”.  MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 13 – 15, 29; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fol. 3 f., excerpts from Maudave’s diary.  Shapin, The Scientific Revolution, 95.

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Great Island did not even reflect on methodology. To be considered an expert on Madagascar, neither language skills nor a longer stay on the ground were necessary. It was enough to have spent a few weeks in one part of this huge island. Thus, Legentil and Tombe could pretend to be experts.¹⁴¹ It was also possible to derive expertise from very general knowledge of the “East Indies” or even “the savages”. In his disputes with Dumas, Poivre, for example, presented himself as an expert on the Great Island not only because of his short stay in Mahavelona, but also on the basis of his travels through Southeast Asia.¹⁴² It is completely perplexing that the ministerial staff considered Beňovský qualified for the position of commander of Madagascar because, in their eyes, he already had experience with “the savages”, even though it is entirely unclear which “savages” were involved – perhaps the Siberians?¹⁴³ Inaccurate, too, was the ubiquitous use of numbers in the texts on Madagascar. Quantification is typical of eighteenth-century scientific practice. It was based on an assumption of the impartiality and impersonality of quantified results and thus corresponded to the ethos of the denial of the self that normatively underpinned scientific practice. For this reason, scholars often used quantifying values, even if they did not have any measurements,¹⁴⁴ and the authors of Madagascar memoranda followed this scientific ideal. They seem to have felt obliged to keep up with the development of statistics in Europe¹⁴⁵ even though they lacked any empirical basis. The large population of Madagascar, for example, was an important argument for a “soft” colonial expansion, because there would be enough labouring subjects in the future. At the same time, however, the figures given varied considerably. According to Millon, one million people lived on the Great Island, while Ferrand Dupuy spoke of 1,600,000 souls; others, like Serre, referred to two to three million, while Kerguelen mentioned five and

 For Legentil, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 11, Legentil, “Productions du FortDauphin propres au commerce et à la vie”, n.d.; Tombe, Voyage aux Indes orientales, 91.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 1, fol. 5, copy of a letter from Poivre to Dumas, 12 May 1768; C 5 A 2, no. 1, fol. 13, copy of a letter from Poivre to Dumas, 17 May 1768.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 42, fol. 2, Boynes to Maillart and Ternay, 19 March 1773; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, fol. 3, untitled (except for “Carton n°10, n°41”), n.d.  Daston, “The Moral Economy of Science”, 6 – 11.  Behrisch, Lars (ed.), Berechnung der Glü ckseligkeit. Statistik und Politik in Deutschland und Frankreich im späten Ancien Régime, Ostfildern 2015; idem, Vermessen, Zählen, Berechnen. Die politische Ordnung des Raums im 18. Jahrhundert, Frankfurt/Main 2006; Sandl, Marcus, Ökonomie des Raumes. Der kameralwissenschaftliche Entwurf der Staatswirtschaft im 18. Jahrhundert, Köln 1999.

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still others six million people.¹⁴⁶ The authors of memoranda did not shy away from making statements about potential population growth. According to Millon, the soil of the Great Island could support ten times more people than it did at present.¹⁴⁷ Also, the supposed Madagascar experts passed on information of mysterious provenance about the number of Malagasy dynasties or the date of human settlement on the island.¹⁴⁸ The master at manipulating figures was Beňovský, who supplied his readers with information about supposed profits and previous yields, with forecasts about the harvest, trade and tribute yields, about future troops that would be raised in Madagascar and the potential for colonisation.¹⁴⁹ Depending on what seemed useful to him, he even increased, or decreased, all the figures yet again in his printed memoirs.¹⁵⁰ In his correspondence, Beňovský occasionally estimated the population of Madagascar at 300,000 souls, that is twenty times lower than La Serre. In doing so, he wanted to show the present miserable state of the island and distinguish himself as a future benefactor of the Malagasy.¹⁵¹ Authors who wrote about Madagascar were characterised by a remarkable resistance to experience. They talked down past failures of the French or presented them in a way that would not challenge the discourse of a “soft” colonial ex-

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 51, fol. 1, “Réflexions sur l’établissement d’une colonie françoise à Madagascar ”, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, fol. 2, FerrandDupuy, “Mémoire politique et historique sur l’île de Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 1, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 2, fol. 3, anon., “Projet pour rentrer dans l’Isle dauphine”; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, La Serre, “Mémoire sur Madagascar contenant les motifs déterminants d’y former un établissement”, n.d.; Kerguelen de Trémarec, Yves-Joseph, Mémoire sur la marine, adressé à l’Assemblée nationale; Mémoire sur l’isle de Madagascar, no place, 1792, 13; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, fol. 1, Bacon de La Chevalerie, “Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/ mémoires/88, no. 25, fol. 1, “Notes sur le commerce de Madagascar”, n.d.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61, fol. 1, Millon, “Projet de Millon d’un établissement françois à Madagascar”, n.d.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 51, fol. 1, “Réflexions sur l’établissement d’une colonie françoise à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 1, Roze, “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar pour y établir une colonie et un commerce utile à la France”, 1783 – 1784; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 31, fol. 1, memorandum by Valgny to Dumas, 23 October 1767.  Some examples: ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 34, fol. 3, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 1 September 1774; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 46, fol. 2 f., Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 13 September 1774; C 5 A 4, no. 101, fol. 2, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 19 September 1774; C 5 A 5, no. 41, fol. 2, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 30 May 1775; second letter: C 5 A 5, no. 42, fol. 1, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 30 May 1775.  Vacher, Contribution à l’histoire de l’établissement français, 17– 20.  ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 45, fol. 4, Beňovsky´ to Sartine, 2 June 1776.

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pansion. Nevertheless, authors had to explain why the earlier attempts at expansion in Madagascar had all failed and why so many wars had been waged against the Malagasy. They claimed that the blame for the conflicts lay with the French in accordance with the image that the natives were gentle and longing to be civilised.¹⁵² Millon was thus able to formulate the daring thesis that the Malagasy would never have done anything of their own accord against the French settlements.¹⁵³ Flacourt’s and Maudave’s failure was especially problematic as their colonisation projects directly inspired the authors of memoranda. Attesting near-success to Flacourt was one possible strategy to get around this problem. According to some authors, however, it had not been possible to convert this near-success into a permanent French supremacy in Anosy because the motherland had not supported Fort-Dauphin.¹⁵⁴ Other authors saw Flacourt as someone who had pursued an aggressive and warlike policy and had failed because of it.¹⁵⁵ According to Maudave, Flacourt had a gentle disposition but, faced with the hostility of the Malagasy against the French, nevertheless had gone to war repeatedly.¹⁵⁶ The authors also differed in their description and explanation of Maudave’s failure. Some simply passed over this episode.¹⁵⁷ Others followed Maudave’s self-fashioning by crediting him with having exercised real moral authority over the Malagasy, but ending up the victim of a conspiracy by the Île de France administration which was under the influence of private interests.¹⁵⁸ Others again said that

 Thus the Chevalier de La Serre in a memorandum simply entitled “Mémoire”; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, fol. 2, “Mémoire”, n.d.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, p. 6, [Millon], “Projet d’un établissement français à Madagascar”, [1775].  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Marchandises bonnes à porter à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 222, “Note sur les avantages d’un établissement à Fort Dauphin et sur la marche à suivre pour tirer parti du pays”, n.d.; Billiard, Auguste, Voyage aux colonies orientales ou Lettres écrites des îles de France et de Bourbon pendant les années 1817, 1818, 1819 et 1820. M. le Comte de Montalivet, pair de France, ancien ministre de l’intérieur, etc., Paris 1822, 311.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Vues politiques sur l’isle de Madagascar. Par P. D. Lehericy, du Calvados”, n. d.; memorandum by De Vaivres: MAD 150 207, untitled, n.d.; MAD 150 207, p. 3, “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar”, 1794; Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar, 49 – 51.  MHN, Ms. 3001, excerpts from Maudave’s diary, p. 20 f.  See, for example, ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Observations sur le projet d’un établissement à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Mémoire sur Madagascar”, n.d.; MAE, Asie 4, no. 75, memorandum by Liniers, n.d.  See, for example, ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Mémoire sur Madagascar contenant les motifs déterminants d’y former un établissement”, n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Vues politiques sur l’isle de Madagascar. Par P. D. Lehericy, du Calvados”,

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the governor of Fort-Dauphin, like his predecessors, had wanted to subject the island by force and had failed because of it.¹⁵⁹ Still others saw the resistance of the Malagasy as the reason for Maudave’s failure but, in contrast to Beňovský, they did not blame him for it.¹⁶⁰ The reference to empiricism remained only one strategy of legimitisation among others. It was equally important to invoke proven authorities. Thus, authors of memoranda referred to the real or alleged opinion of great statesmen who had advocated the colonisation of Madagascar in the past. They invoked Richelieu and Colbert as visionary geniuses who allegedly had been the first to see the enormous advantages of a colony in Madagascar.¹⁶¹ From among the personalities of the eighteenth century, they listed La Bourdonnais, Officer of the Navy and Governor of the Mascarenes, as well as Poivre.¹⁶² Finally, the authors of memoranda appealed to the philosophical mind of the reader who, living in an enlightened age, was now ready to recognise the truth and therefore reject those writings that were critical of Madagascar. If de-

n.d.; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, [Millon], “Projet d’un établissement français à Madagascar”; for a memorandum by Roze, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 5, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784.  See, for example, anon.: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Observations sur Madagascar”, n.d.; Leclerc de Montlinot, Essai sur la déportation, 38. Précourt’s (alias Meusnier’s) reproaches against Maudave are unclear; see ANOM, DFC,XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784.  For a sample memorandum, see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, no title (“Carton no10, no41”), n.d.  Grossin, “Mémoire inédit de Grossin sur Madagascar”, 342; [Maudave?]: ANOM, DFC, XVII/ mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 41, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 53, fol. 4, “Mémoire sur Madagascar”, June 1775; DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, second document, fol. 1 f., “Observations sur un nouveau plan d’établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar, par M. Duhamel Comte de Précourt”, 26 August 1783; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, fol. 4, “Mémoire politique et historique sur l’île de Madagascar […] par M. Ferrand Dupuy”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 95, fol. 1, Kerguelen, “Mémoire intéressant l’île de Madagascar”, 28 October 1792; Kerguelen, Mémoire sur la marine, 13.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 78, fol. 1, “Projet d’emploi des services du baron de Benyowsky et de ses officiers pour le compte de la France à Madagascar”, 30 December 1772; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 7, fols. 2, 5, Legentil, “Description de la baie d’Antongil”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/ mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 32, 35, 50 – 53, [Maudave], “Mémoire sur l’établissement de Madagascar, dans lequel reprennent les matières déjà exposées”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 79, p. 53, diary of La Serre, 1777; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 3, memorandum by Roze, 1783 – 1784; Kerguelen, Relation de deux voyages, 65; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 182, fol. 1, memorandum by Roze, 16 August 1783; Leclerc de Montlinot, Essai sur la transportation, 47; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, chapter 2, “Vues politiques sur l’île de Madagascar. Par P. D. Lehericy, du Calvados”, n.d.; Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar, XVI–XXIII.

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scriptions of the Red Island contradicted each other, then, according to Kersalaün, an author of memoranda, it was due to the fact that some wrote in a way that was guided by interests, while the “view of the [true, D. T.] historians was the result of an enlightened and disinterested philosophy”.¹⁶³ Cossigny also emphasised the need to look at the matter “as a philosopher” (“en philosophe”).¹⁶⁴ Rochon claimed to understand the Malagasy better than his predecessors because he had studied “the savages with Rousseau”.¹⁶⁵ Millon, another author of memoranda, even proclaimed somewhat grandiloquently that his Madagascar plan showed the superiority of the French nation “in philosophy”.¹⁶⁶ What exactly did “observing as a philosopher” (“voir en philosophe”) mean? The term “philosophe” in the eighteenth century referred to the role of an intellectual who fought for the common good and moral improvement.¹⁶⁷ Not unlike the preacher, the “philosophe” should above all judge good and evil in the public sphere.¹⁶⁸ This role went along with a moralising gaze that could involve not only individuals, but also entire peoples, for in the eighteenth century no less than in previous centuries, individual nations were located primarily on a moral scale. The question was whether “the Malagasy” was by nature perfidious, cruel, cowardly and lazy or, on the contrary, humane, gentle, timid and adaptive.¹⁶⁹ The fact that writings on Madagascar pretended to be “philosophical” did shape knowledge. Such “philosophical” descriptions of countries claimed to be disinterested but were, in fact, very much based on texts with underlying

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 89, fol. 3, “Observations sur les réflexions que le monseigneur le maréchal de Castries fit l’autre jour à M. le comte de Kersalaü n”, n.d.: “La manière de voir des historiens est l’effet d’une philosophie éclairée et sans intérest.”  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 86, Cossigny to a clerk of the Ministry of the Navy, 1 January 1773.  Rochon, Voyage à Madagascar, 40.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 51, “Réflexions sur l’établissement d’une colonie françoise à Madagascar”, n.d.: “que les autres nations reconnoissent également la supériorité de la françoise pour la Philosophie”.  Pečar, “Der Intellektuelle seit der Aufklärung”.  Particularly striking in Raynal’s History of the Two Indies, see Pečar/Tricoire, Falsche Freunde, 150 f., 174.  For some examples of such evaluations, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fols. 3, 6, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 51, fol. 1, “Réflexions sur l’établissement d’une colonie françoise à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/ 88, no. 53, fol. 3, “Mémoire sur Madagascar”, June 1775; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61, fol. 4, “Projet de Millon d’un établissement françois à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61, fol. 1, “Copie d’une lettre à M. Millon […] par M. Caulier, ancien curé de ladite isle”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 89, fol. 3, “Observations sur les réflexions que le monseigneur le maréchal de Castries fit l’autre jour à M. le comte de Kersalaü n”, n.d.

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interests. They represented the result of a work of multiple levels of extracting and condensing information,¹⁷⁰ which, even more than handwritten memoranda, tore the images of Madagascar out of their respective contexts of origin. A reader of Raynal’s History of the Two Indies could no longer reconstruct that the images of the Great Island and its inhabitants originated in propaganda texts for colonisation plans. Instead, the Madagascar discourse appeared in the guise of enlightened philosophy, that is, of the disinterested struggle for truth and the good of humanity. Behind the reference to the philosophical spirit lay the claim that the new knowledge of Madagascar was to serve the good of humankind. This claim, in turn, points to a characteristic of the Enlightenment as an epoch in the history of knowledge. The very fact that the terms “lumières” and “philosophie” played as great a role as empirical reference in the legitimisation of knowledge is a sign of the largely missing differentiation of the symbolic universes of both “philosophy” and “science” in the eighteenth century.¹⁷¹ In terms of systems theory, knowledge was doubly-coded: not only as “true” or “false”, but also as “good” or “bad”.¹⁷² In contrast to the images of the Great Island that prevailed in the middle of the eighteenth century and that were based on experience to date, the new knowledge of Madagascar had a better chance of gaining acceptance because of its practical-moral orientation: in the eyes of its representatives, it aimed at improving the world. It was precisely the political impetus that was constitutive of this Enlightenment knowledge. The ethical dimension of knowledge of Madagascar facilitated the resistance of imperial elites to experience: because the good was true and the true was good, the failures of a “soft” expansion could not be allowed to lead to the conclusion that the principles of this colonial policy were not correct. Rather, according to an Enlightenment reading of the events, the true and wise principles had never been applied, or had not been carried out successfully, due to external conditions. The certainty of an expansion through civilisational superiority could not be called into question. From the history of the idea of an assimilation policy towards “savages” and “barbarians”, in summary, the following conclusions may be drawn after 1763. First, an interplay between the mother country and the colonies as well as between manuscripts and printed texts created not only new Madagascar images,  Nutz, “Varietäten des Menschengeschlechts”, 196 – 217.  Peter Gay speaks of a “moral realism”; see Gay, The Enlightenment, 178 – 180.  Stichweh, Rudolf, “Zur Funktion der Universität in der deutschen Frü haufklärung”, in: Hans Erich Bödeker (ed.), Strukturen der deutschen Frü haufklärung, 1680 – 1720, Göttingen 2008, 31– 44, 31– 35.

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but also frameworks of thought that made these images possible. The development of the universal-historical framework in the mother country was decisive for the reception of Flacourt’s work, but Maudave also actively collaborated in these innovations in the history of ideas. Very early on he established categories of thought and classification that were later generalised in the stadial theory of a processual course of history. Above all, he was probably the first Frenchman to formulate the idea of a civilising mission which was subsequently taken up and disseminated by famous authors in the mother country. Maudave, moreover, was not isolated but part of a circle of overseas philosophes who played a central role in spreading the idea of a civilising policy. The history of the Madagascar discourse thus draws attention to the importance of colonial Enlightenment. Second, the new assimilationist ideas were closely related to the image of the role of the philosophe and the notion of philosophie. To plead for “soft” colonial expansion was to distinguish oneself as a friend both of the Enlightenment and progress. The “philosophical” claim concealed the interests that had led to the formulation of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse. The new Madagascar knowledge had an ethical dimension that favoured resistance to experience. In addition, the philosophes were part of networks of patronage of important personalities in the French administration and politics. The Enlightenment authors and scholars of Île de France acted under the patronage of the Intendant Pierre Poivre and, ultimately, of Choiseul and Necker. The support of these politicians was decisive for the emergence of a discourse on the possibilities of a “soft” expansion and the obligations to civilise and assimilate the “savages” and “barbarians”. The printed “philosophical” texts in turn frequently influenced politicians and, for several decades, shaped the image of Madagascar. The history of the Madagascar discourse thus provides an insight into the entanglements of philosophy and politics in France during the second half of the eighteenth century.

11 Adventurers and Bureaucrats In France, there are 16,000 holders of the Saint Louis Cross, 6,000 of them live in Paris and the surrounding area. These officers lay siege to the offices at Versailles, they crowd the antechambers, hang around the corridors, spread rumours, gossip incessantly about past wars, and because they see everything from the perspective of a warhorse, they do not have the faintest idea of politics and simply do not want to understand that times have changed while they have stood still.¹

This is how Louis-Sébastien Mercier in his “View of Paris” (Tableau de Paris) pokes fun at the veteran military men who, with the Order of Saint Louis on their chest, cannot resist trying to influence the politicians. One of the holders of this cross was Beňovský who, due to his special zeal in Madagascar, received the prestigious award after only a few years of service, which was contrary to regulations. Since this nobleman from Upper Hungary retrospectively appears to have been a reckless adventurer with criminal energy, this extraordinary reward seems astonishing. However, if one takes into account the dominance of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse and Beňovský’s relatively successful selffashioning, it becomes clear that the dream of a “soft” colonial expansion on the Great Island offered scope for adventurers. Mercier’s satirically-charged text raises the question of how the project authors who made use of the Madagascar discourse succeeded, in some cases at least, in influencing the ministers and ministerial staff in a way that seems perplexing retrospectively.² The adoption of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse by authors of memoranda as well as the significance of memoranda will be examined in what follows. What were the consequences of the French administration’s willingness to receive, read and archive memoranda from outsiders? Who were the men who spread the idea of a project of a soft colonisation in ministerial circles? What interests did they associate with the Madagascar discourse? To what extent did they have personal experiences in Madagascar as well as contacts with each other? With whom did they communicate in Versailles, and through what channels? Whose writings were heeded in the Ministry of the  Mercier, My View of Paris, 286. In the original: “Il y a seize mille croix de Saint-Louis en France, dont six mille à Paris ou dans les environs. Ces Officiers partent en pot-de-chambre, assiegent les bureaux de Versailles, peuplent les anti-chambres, remplissent la galerie, font circuler les nouvelles, parlent incessamment des guerres passées, déraisonnent en politique, parce qu’ils jugent tout en militaires; ils ne peuvent s’accoutumer à tous les changements que le cours des événements autorise et nécessite.” Mercier, Louis-Sébastien, Tableau de Paris. Nouvelle édition corrigée et augmentée, Amsterdam 1782, vol. 4, 151.  Zatorska, too, is astonished; see Discours colonial, 232. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-013

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Navy and why? What logics did the interactions between project authors and the central administration follow? These questions aim at a crucial blind spot in most studies of colonial knowledge. They postulate that the expansion of knowledge and the expansion of the French empire were mutually supportive, and they presuppose that the interactions between the producers of knowledge and the colonial administration followed both the scientific ideal of generating exact knowledge and the bureaucratic logic of rational decision-making for the good of the empire. The producers of knowledge often appear as selfless fighters for science and the empire.³ Moreover, research on the history of knowledge in the French colonial empire extols the openness of the French administration towards those who provided ideas yet were not part of the state apparatus. The means of the memorandum made it possible, in principle, for every educated French subject to send advice to the ministry.⁴ This rather optimistic view of the relationship between knowledge production and imperial expansion will be tested here with the aid of studies of concrete situations, in which the producers of knowledge and the ministerial elite interacted. Up to now, little research has been done on who wrote memoranda on which topics, and to what extent knowledge fulfilled functions beyond advances in learning and the expansion of imperial rule, as Arndt Brendecke, for example, has shown for the Spanish colonial empire in the sixteenth century.⁵ Charles and Cheney in particular pointed out that the generation and reception of knowledge was part of the communication process in relations of patronage. This is an important aspect that is omitted in many studies of the history of knowledge.⁶ Hence, this chapter focuses on the consequences of this relative openness of the French administration to advice from outsiders. Beyond giving portraits of authors of Madagascar memoranda, the aim here is first to show how men, often through personal contacts, appropriated different Madagascar images and used them for their own purposes. Second, to explore the logic of the communication processes, the interactions between the authors of memoranda and the Ministry of the Navy will be looked at. In doing so, the study aims to contrib-

 For example in McClellan/Regourd, “The Colonial Machine”; Roberts, Lissa, “‘Le centre de toutes choses’. Constructing and Managing Centralization on the Isle de France”, in: History of science 53/no. 176 (2014), 319 – 342.  Steiner, Colberts Afrika, 431.  Brendecke, Imperium und Empirie.  Charles/Cheney, “The Colonial Machine Dismantled”.

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ute to a dynamic field of research, namely the social history of knowledge.⁷ Third, the genre of the “memorandum” itself will be considered. Here, the thesis is advanced that, contrary to what Charles and Cheney suggest, memoranda did in fact have an influence on colonial policy, albeit a very different one from that which research commonly assumes.

The Mascarenes and the Origin of the Discourse The Enlightenment symbioses of philosophy and politics encouraged a wide variety of personalities to try their luck in Versailles. The social profile of the authors who, in line with Maudave and Beňovský, declared the Great Island the object of a dreamed-of “soft” colonisation, was certainly inconsistent. Nevertheless, in the dissemination of the late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar, geographical focal points and relationships can be identified between individual authors of memoranda. Since Maudave had lived on Île de France since 1764,⁸ it is hardly surprising that the idea of a “soft” colonial expansion in Madagascar was first propagated on the Mascarenes. The philosophical circle to which Maudave belonged may have spread the new Madagascar discourse not only in writings but also orally. The scholarly milieu was in fact part of the upper class of the Mascarenes. Cossigny and Maudave were both plantation owners; Cossigny also engaged in trade. The position of Governor of Madagascar was intended not least to enable the heavily indebted Maudave to keep his social position as a member of the Île de France elite.⁹ Since trade with Madagascar was vital to the Mascarenes, it is not surprising that Maudave and other ambitious members of his social milieu were eyeing the real, or presumed, riches of the Great Island. Among them was Launay who, during the revolutionary period, sent a memorandum to the Minister of the Navy in which he referred to Maudave’s ideas, without adding anything new.¹⁰

 For an example of this direction of research, see Flessenkämper, Iris, Considerations – Encouragements – Improvements: Die Select Society in Edinburgh 1754 – 1764. Soziale Zusammensetzung und kommunikative Praxis einer schottischen Gelehrtengesellschaft zur Zeit der Aufklärung, Berlin 2010.  Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 356– 362.  Ibid., 357– 359.  However, it is unclear whether the Launay in question was Jean-Baptiste Michel Launay, a trader, plantation owner and member of the Supreme Council (Conseil supérieur) of the Île de France, or Pierre Augustin de Launay, lieutenant of the militia of Île Bourbon. See ANOM, E

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The memorandum by Siette de la Rousselière, a Creole lieutenant of the national militia of Île de France, written in 1784 on the Mascarenes and repeatedly submitted in 1786 and 1803, in content was also close to the texts of the former governor of Fort-Dauphin.¹¹ Unlike Launay, however, he came up with a few embellishments. Unfortunately, little is known about Siette who wanted to be a commander of a colony in Madagascar and rule over settlers from Île Bourbon and “civilised” Malagasy. He portrayed colonisation as particularly promising because to his mind, the French government had already created “a kind of republic” (“une espèce de république”) on the Great Island. According to Siette, the peoples of Madagascar had sought France’s protection against Iavy the “tyrant”.¹² Here, Siette alluded to the “Republic of Marahombay”, which Coquereau had founded and which Diard soon after harnessed to his own purposes. After Diard’s arrest in 1784, this “republic” actually no longer existed, but Siette seems to have been unaware of this fact. Despite his apparently meagre Madagascar expertise, Siette considered himself particularly qualified for the post of commander of Madagascar. As proof of this, he claimed to have inherited from his ancestors the secret of draining marshes. His “large family” (“famille nombreuse”) allegedly was descended in a direct line from the Siettes who, under Henry IV, Louis XIII and Louis XIV, had eliminated the marshes of France.¹³ Also interested in the “soft” colonisation of the Great Island was François Millon des Marquets, a Mascarene plantation owner who was as heavily indebted as Maudave. Millon was descended from the service nobility. He was the son of a Premier échevin of the city of Paris and, following family tradition, he made a career as a lawyer. After marrying the daughter of a deceased attorney-general of Île Bourbon, he inherited the office of his father-in-law and, in 1767, settled in the Indian Ocean area where he now owned a plantation. But in 1771, he was arrested and removed from office. In addition to horrendous debts of 60,000 livres and an immoral way of life, he was accused of being seditious. In the tradition of the judges of the mother country, he had in fact led a political opposition against

261 (Jean-Baptiste Michel Launay) as well as the memorandum in ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, no title (except “C[itoy]en De Vaivres, 23 Novembre”), n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 187, memorandum by Siette de La Rousselière, January 1784; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Siette de La Rousselière to the Minister of the Navy, 27 March 1803; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Mémoire sur Madagascar, par Siette la Rousselière, daté du Port Nord-Ouest (Île de France) le 6 germinal an XI, 27 March 1803.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 187, memorandum by Siette de La Rousselière, January 1784, fol. 3.  Ibid., especially fols. 5, 8 f. Also see Wanquet, Claude/Benoît Julien (eds.), Révolution française et océan Indien. Prémices, paroxysmes, héritages et déviances. Actes du colloque de SaintPierre de la Réunion, octobre 1990, Saint-Denis de la Réunion/Paris 1996, 169.

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the intendant in the supreme council (Conseil supérieur) of the colony. In 1769, moreover, he was at odds with the Lazarists, who did not want to accept him as godfather of a child because he hardly ever attended church. Back in France, Millon managed to obtain the annulment of the decision of the judges of Île Bourbon against him and to be paid the equivalent of the salary he would have received between 1771 and 1774. Between 1775 and 1778, he urgently sought a position as a magistrate in the colonies and, for this reason, sent the Ministry of the Navy dozens of petitions and documents.¹⁴ In this context, he submitted a memorandum in 1775, offering to resettle 300 fathers of families from Île Bourbon to Madagascar.¹⁵ The colonisation project that he outlined in this text closely followed the late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar.¹⁶ Although Millon was a belligerent man, he pleaded for gentleness. Millon’s penchant for conflicts, however, was nothing compared to the aggressive behaviour of another author of memoranda from Île de France, François Jacques Veller (or Weller) de Kersalaün. The latter was expelled from Île de France in 1783 and deported to France. Kersalaün had rented a plantation from a certain Morel, who worked in the hospital administration, but he did not pay him the rent. When Morel demanded his money, Kersalaün threatened him with a gun and forced him to sign a debt waiver. He also stole from Morel and killed several of his slaves. Kersalaün rented out the plantation to a third person, whom he almost beat to death a short time later. He also beat his wife several times and threatened his brother-in-law.¹⁷ This pronounced inclination towards violence did not prevent him from advocating a soft approach towards the Malagasy. Several years after his arrival in France, between 1786 and 1789, Kersalaün wrote several memoranda on the Great Island along familiar lines. He obviously drew inspiration from Beňovský. Like the nobleman from Upper

 See in particular Millon’s voluminous personnel file in ANOM, E 313 (Millon). Also see Géraud, Jean-François, “La Ville des sucriers. Bourbon/La Réunion, 1810 – 1880”, in: Faranirina V. Rajaonah (ed.), Cultures citadines dans l’Ocean indien occidental (XVIIIe-XXIe siècles). Pluralisme, échanges, inventivité, Paris 2011, 103 – 125, 116; Azéma, Georges, Histoire de l’Île Bourbon depuis 1643 jusqu’au 20 décembre 1848, Paris 1862, 358; Jauze, Albert, Notaires et Notariat. Le notariat français et les hommes dans une colonie à l’est du Cap de Bonne-espérance. Bourbon – La Réunion – milieu du XIXe s., Paris 2009, 78; Lacaze, Honoré, L’Île Bourbon, l’Île de France – Madagascar. Recherches historiques, Paris 1880, 217.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 60, Millon to Sartine, 29 September 1775.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61, “Projet de Millon d’un établissement François à Madagascar”, [1775]. Also see ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 57, Millon to Sartine, 15 June 1775; furthermore ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar”, 1794.  ANOM, E 384 bis, personnel file of Kersalaü n.

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Hungary, Kersalaün wanted to set up a colony in Antongil Bay which would be connected to the port of Boina by a road.¹⁸ Beňovský’s true and invented stories also fascinated a number of other adventurers who did not have a permanent residence on the Mascarenes but who did spend some time on these islands. This was the case, for example, of the Breton Yves Joseph de Kerguelen de Trémarec, who became famous throughout Europe due to a spectacular affair involving major fraud. Kerguelen, under whose leadership Rochon embarked for the South Seas, was sent to the high seas by Boynes, the Minister of the Navy, in 1771, to discover the large rich continent that was believed to be in the southern hemisphere. The idea was based on a seventeenth-century work by Jean Paulmier de Courtonne, who advocated the establishment of a Christian mission in this “Third World” (“Troisième Monde”) or “Australian earth” (“terre australe”).¹⁹ In it, Paulmier claimed to be descended from a certain Binnot Paulmier de Gonneville who had discovered a fertile continent south of the Cape of Good Hope in the early sixteenth century. It is uncertain whether Gonneville ever lived and sailed to the South Seas. With this story, Paulmier claimed possession of the continent in the name of France and demanded for himself the position of Vicar of the Missions in the “Australian Earths”.²⁰ However, even if Gonneville’s travel narrative as reproduced by

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 87, “Monsieur de Kersalaü n propose un projet d’établissement à Madagascar”, 1786 – 1787; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 88, anon. to the Minister of the Navy, 6 November 1786; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 89, “Observations sur les réflexions que le monseigneur le maréchal de Castries fit l’autre jour à M. le comte de Kersalaü n”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 90, “Sur le memoire de M. le comte de Kersalaü n”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 91, Kersalaü n to the Minister of the Navy, 29 December 1786; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 93, “Réflexions politiques sur l’établissement de Madagascar proposé M. de Kersalaü n”, 9 February 1787; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/ 88, no. 94, note of a clerk about Kersalaü n, 1 March 1787; MAE, Indes orientales 19, no. 134, Kersalaü n, “Détail des moyens propres à former avec succès l’établissement proposé à Madagascar”, 1789. The memorandum is signed with the name “Kersalaü n” only. For this reason, it cannot be ruled out entirely that the author of this text could also be Jean-Vincent Euzénou, comte de Kersalaün. However, this is unlikely, as we do not know of any contact he had with the overseas world. See “Euzenou de Kersalaü n, Jean-François” and “Euzenou de Kersalaü n, Jean-Vincent”, in: Dictionnaire de biographie française, vol. 13 (1975), 283 – 284; Kersalaü n, comte de, Mémoire présenté au roi, ou Observations de M. le comte de Kersalaun, sur le discours prononcé par M. de Calonne, dans l’Assemblée des notables, le 27 Février 1787, Paris 1787.  Paulmier de Courtonne, Jean, Mémoires touchant l’établissement d’une mission chrestienne dans le Troisième Monde, autrement appellé la Terre australe, méridionale, antartique et inconnue, Paris 1663.  Perrone-Moisés, Leyla, “Le voyage de Gonneville a-t-il vraiment eu lieu ?” In: Actes du colloque international “Voyageurs et Images du Brésil “, MSH-Paris, 10 décembre 2003, http://edi-

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Paulmier was confused – the seafarer, if he ever existed, possibly meant Brazil –, the French public believed from the seventeenth century onwards that this continent was in the south of the Indian Ocean. In 1659 Paulmier himself located the continent to be discovered south of Madagascar, probably because a few years earlier, a Lazarist mission had been founded in Fort-Dauphin.²¹ After that, the “Australian earth” never left its hold on French authors. In the late 1740s, the India Company organised an expedition led by Jean-Baptiste Bouvet de Lozier to find it, but icy areas were all they discovered. Nevertheless, Bouvet suspected that there was a fertile land beyond the ice, which was subsequently depicted on contemporary maps.²² Kerguelen was the last victim of this myth. In 1772, while James Cook convinced himself that the great South Sea continent was a daydream, the Breton captain with his ship came close to the barren archipelago that bears his name today. Although he was unable to dock due to unfavourable weather conditions, Kerguelen would not allow his joy at discovering his Eldorado to be spoilt. He spread the word that, at last, he had found the great continent with its immense riches. In 1773 he persuaded the king to finance a second expedition, the goal of which was the founding of a colony on the “terre de Gonneville”, which, however, failed completely. Having reached the desolate islands, Kerguelen had to recognise his illusion. Yet, he did not admit defeat. Since these islands were not part of a large promising continent, he sought the “terre de Gonneville” elsewhere.²³ He found it in Madagascar. On his way back to France, Kerguelen stopped off in Antongil Bay where he helped Beňovský in the fight against “Raboc”, the expropriated owner of the “Plaine de la Santé”.²⁴ Impressed by the Red Island, Ker-

tions-villegagnons.com/GONNEVILLE.pdf (last accessed February 16, 2016). A forgery should seriously be considered. Contrary to what Leyla Perrone-Moisés assumes, it seems to have been easy for Paulmier to deceive his learned contemporaries and the royal administration with a text based on existing travel reports.  Sankey, Margaret, “Madagascar et la terre de Gonneville. Tribulation d’un mythe des origines”, in: Revue historique des Mascareignes 5 (2004), 151– 160, here 153.  Sankey, Margaret, “Est ou Ouest. Le mythe des terres australes en France aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles”, in: Issur, Kumari R./Vinesh Y. Hookoomsing (eds.), L’océan Indien dans les littératures francophones, Paris 2001, 13 – 26.  Ibid.; Kerguelen de Trémarec, Yves-Joseph, Relation de deux voyages dans les mers australes et des Indes faits en 1771, 1772, 1773 et 1774, Paris 2000, 6 – 12 (preface); Sankey, “Madagascar et la terre de Gonneville”, 159.  BnF, Manuscrits français, NAF no. 9413, fol. 271 f., “Mémoire de Kerguelen sur l’île de Madagascar”, 27 December 1773. Maillart and Ternay also report on these events; see ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 62, fol. 1, Maillart and Ternay to the Minister of the Navy, 17 June 1774.

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guelen decided definitively that it was the “terre de Gonneville” that until now he had been searching for in vain. However, he had no time to devote to the Great Island. Exposed as a fraudster and accused of disobedience, illegal trading and taking on board a young lady disguised as a man, he was sentenced to six years’ imprisonment on his return to France in 1775.²⁵ Released into freedom in 1778 to fight against the British in the American War of Independence, Kerguelen made a career for himself during the Revolution and reached the rank of rear admiral. In the meantime, in 1782 he had published an account of his travels through the South Seas, in which he also reported on his stay in Madagascar.²⁶ In 1792 Kerguelen finally published a memorandum that made use of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse. He presented it to the Ministry of the Navy and also had it printed.²⁷ The impetus for his renewed interest in Madagascar may have been sparked by the travel accounts of Beňovský and Rochon, which had appeared in 1791. Kerguelen knew both authors personally. In his memorandum, he also copied verbatim some passages from Raynal’s History of the Two Indies. ²⁸ He immediately recommended himself as commander of the colony to be established, which would civilise millions of Malagasy by “soft means”.²⁹ The idea of becoming head of a colony on the Great Island also fascinated Jean-François Destorches, Chevalier de La Serre, another adventurer who had become personally acquainted with Beňovský’s settlement and probably the most persistent of all authors of memoranda on the Great Island. La Serre had begun an officer’s career in 1748 that led him to the rank of captain. In 1760 he was appointed commander of the militia in Guyana but was forced to return to France at the end of the Seven Years War. In the 1760s he was active as a spy in the Holy

 Jugement du conseil de guerre tenu au port de Brest le 15 mai 1775, exécuté et rendu public en conséquence des ordres du roi (Brest, 1775); Kerguelen, Relation de deux voyages, 12 (preface).  Kerguelen, Relation de deux voyages, 64– 67.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 95, Kerguelen, “Mémoire intéressant l’île de Madagascar”, 28 October 1792; Kerguelen, Mémoire sur la marine.  See, for example, the following excerpt: “Une si heureuse révolution ne doit pas être l’ouvrage de la violence. C’est par la voie douce de la persuasion, c’est par les appas séduisants du bonheur, c’est par l’attrait d’une vie tranquille, c’est par les avantages de notre police, par les douceurs de la liberté et de l’égalité, par les jouissances de notre industrie, enfin par la supériorité de notre génie qu’il faut amener l’isle entiére [sic] à un but également utile aux deux nations”. In ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 95, Kerguelen, “Mémoire intéressant l’île de Madagascar”, 28 October 1792.  Ibid.

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Roman Empire for Choiseul³⁰ who, in 1769, sent him to Poland to support the Bar Confederation in its fight against the Russian Empire. La Serre served under Charles-François Dumouriez, a Confederate general and French secret agent (and later a major general during the French Revolution), and under Antoine Charles du Houx Baron de Vioménil, who had also been sent to Poland by Choiseul. The defeat of the Confederation in 1772 forced La Serre to return to France. There, he was appointed lieutenant-colonel and received the Order of Saint Louis and a gratuity of 1200 livres a year, but he remained without employment. He therefore asked to be allowed to fight for the Ottoman Empire against Russia³¹ but instead, in 1776, he was commissioned by Sartine, the Minister of the Navy, with a reconnaissance mission in Madagascar. If one trusts the copy of a letter made in Mahavelona on 25 August which is in the archives of the Ministry of the Navy, the king had given La Serre command over all the military forces in the different parts of Madagascar which he was to explore.³² It is, however, not clear whether one should consider this letter genuine. Be that as it may, Sartine reproached the Chevalier upon his return for having far exceeded his powers as an “observer” (“observateur”).³³ This exchange of letters shows that Sartine had actually asked the Chevalier de La Serre to send him his observations concerning Madagascar to enable him to assess the chances of a successful colonisation. Thus, La Serre was a spy who, along with Bellecombe and Chevreau, was to help the minister get a picture of the situation under Beňovský’s leadership. The Chevalier had no power of command on the Great Island. La Serre, however, had a different view of things. Already on the ship that brought him from France to Île de France, the Chevalier had caused a row because he wanted to give instructions to the captain. For this, the governor of Île de France had him incarcerated for forty-eight hours immediately after landing.³⁴ Having arrived in Mahavelona at the beginning of July 1777, the Chevalier de La Serre acted as if he was the commander of the Great Island and called on

 The Prussian spy Rapin mentioned him when he was arrested by the French; see Muchembled, Robert, Les Ripoux des Lumières. Corruption policière et Révolution, Paris 2011, 390.  Centre historique des archives de la Défense, GR 28d 8 (dossier individuel de Jean-François de La Serre); ANOM, E 259 (La Serre).  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 2, Sartine to La Serre, 18 March 1776.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 139, Sartine to La Serre, 31 May 1778. For reply of the Chevalier de La Serre, see ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 143, La Serre to Sartine, 2 July 1778.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 89, fol. 2, La Brillone and Maillart to the Minister of the Navy, 1 October 1777; for the description of the Chevalier de La Serre, see C 5 A 9, no. 2, fol. 3, La Serre to the Minister of the Navy, 21 December 1776.

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Captain Mallendré to obey his orders.³⁵ At first, his demand was rejected by Mallendré, a subordinate of Sanglier’s, who was in Antongil Bay. It should be noted that no actual letter from a minister could have annulled this power of command, but only an order from the king himself.³⁶ Nonetheless, the Chevalier de La Serre distributed trade privileges arbitrarily³⁷ and only stopped doing so when, in alarm, the Commandant Sanglier and the Intendant Coquereau embarked on a journey to Mahavelona.³⁸ In the meantime, La Serre had illegally enriched himself through the rice, cattle and slave trades³⁹ and left Madagascar without having explored an inch of the Great Island. Immediately afterwards, he wrote a report on his voyage in which he recommended the colonisation of Madagascar in the customary manner.⁴⁰ Due to his scandalous behaviour on the Red Island,⁴¹ La Serre lost his pension in 1781 and he subsequently sought employment in the service of the king. He asked for the next free colonial governorate⁴² and until 1789, he unsuccessfully submitted numerous letters and memoranda on Madagascar to recommend himself as commander of a colony.⁴³

 ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 54 and 55, La Serre to Mallendré, 7 and 16 July 1777.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 72 and 81, Sanglier and Coquereau to La Brillone and Maillart, 16 August 1777.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 61, La Serre to Boyer, 21 July 1777; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 62, La Serre to Devihon, 21 July 1777; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 65, La Serre to Gambin, 4 August 1777; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 67, La Serre to Gambin, 4 August 1777; C 5 A 9, no. 7, La Serre to Gambier, 4 August 1777.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 72, Sanglier and Coquereau to La Brillone and Maillart, 16 August 1777.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 81, fol. 2, Sanglier and Coquereau to the Minister of the Navy; C 5 A 9, no. 62, note from a clerk on the allegations against La Serre, n.d.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 79, diary of La Serre, 1777.  ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 65, La Serre to the Minister of the Navy, n.d. [after 1783].  ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 64, La Serre to the Minister of the Navy, n.d. [after 1783].  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 84, memorandum by La Serre, 1785 (accompanying letter: ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 85, La Serre to the Minister of the Navy, 7 September 1785); C 5 A 9, no. 37, La Serre to the Minister of the Navy, n.d.; C 5 A 9, no. 59, “Idée par simple approximation de ce que coûtera une première expedition à Madagascar”, n.d.; C 5 A 9, no. 60, memorandum by La Serre, n.d.; C 5 A 9, no. 61, memorandum by La Serre, n.d.; C 5 A 9, no. 63, memorandum by La Serre, n.d.; C 5 A 9, no. 66, La Serre to an unknown recipient, n.d.; C 5 A 9, no. 68, memorandum by La Serre, n.d.; C 5 A 9, no. 69, memorandum by La Serre, n.d.; C 5 A 9, no. 70, “Observations du capitaine Trevau sur l’établissement projeté par le chevalier de la Serre”, n.d. On 4 December 1785, he even had a dispute with the former inspector Bellecombe, who rejected La Serre’s colonisation project; see ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 200, La Serre to the Minister of the Navy, 6 December 1785. At the end of 1785 and in 1786, a “La Serre” or “De la Serre” appears as a trade clerk in Madagascar. However, due to the conference in Paris in December 1785, it seems impossible that this is one and the same person. It is more likely that La Serre had taken a relative to the Indian Ocean with him; see C 5 A 8 bis, no. 203, fol. 2, Souillac

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According to his own subsequent statements, he had emigrated from revolutionary France as early as 1789, and in 1792 was sent by the king’s brothers on a secret mission to protect the Tuileries Palace. However, it is known that La Serre did not leave the country in 1789 and that he was active in the National Guard. In 1792 he became a talking point when he claimed to have seen the former duke of Orléans Philippe-Egalité giving orders to the Sansculottes during the storming of the Tuileries.⁴⁴ La Serre had to emigrate in 1793 and subsequently served as an officer in Austria and Russia under the leadership of Louis V Joseph de Bourbon-Condé. On 3 December 1800 he was seriously injured in the battle of Hohenlinden and died of his wounds.⁴⁵ Paul Chevillard de Montesson was another seafarer and author of memoranda who was interested in Madagascar in connection with the post left vacant by Beňovský. He had left Île de France on the ship of the explorer Marc-Joseph Marion du Fresne (Marion Dufresne) in 1771 to explore the South Seas. The French reached Tasmania in 1772 and immediately provoked conflict with the natives. Montesson perpetrated several massacres on this occasion and also later in New Zealand. The following year he returned to Île de France.⁴⁶ When Beňovský’s failure became obvious, Montesson wrote a memorandum asking to be allowed to take command of the Upper Hungarian’s volunteer corps. In contrast to the vast majority of Madagascar enthusiasts, Montesson did not hold out the prospect of a “soft” expansion but rather of the establishment of a belligerent colony that would conquer the Great Island.⁴⁷ Beňovský furthermore inspired a certain Jacques Lasalle (Lassale or La Saly) who submitted a memorandum to the Ministry of the Navy in 1796. Lasalle by his own account had fought in the American War of Independence, had been made an officer and had resided in Baltimore ever since. According to Lasalle, the “Comte de Beňovský” had come to Baltimore in 1784 and had suggested that he join the Madagascar expedition. On the journey to Madagascar, the military man Lasalle was given responsibility for mining in Madagascar, the training of and Motais to the Minister of the Navy; C 5 A 8 bis, no. 209, fol. 3, Souillac to the Minister of the Navy, 22 August 1786.  The Annual Register, or A View of the History, Politics, and Literature, for the Year 1792, London 1798, 71; Peltier, Jean-Gabriel, Histoire de la révolution du dix aoust 1792, 2 vols., Londres 1797, 227.  Centre historique des archives de la Défense, GR 28d 8 (dossier individuel de Jean-François de La Serre); ANOM, E 259 (La Serre).  “Chevillard de Montesson, Paul”, in: Dictionnaire de biographie mauricienne, vil. 50 (1990), 1555. For Marion-Dufresne’s voyage, see Haudrère, Philippe, Les Français dans l’océan Indien. XVIIe-XIXe siècle, Rennes 2014, 249 – 263.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 14, “Mémoire sur Madagascar, par M. Chevillard”, n.d.

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a yet-to-be-created “national guard” and trade with the islanders. While in Madagascar, he married a local princess and fathered a son who was now king. Everything would have gone well if only the ‘Ampansakabe’ Beňovský had not been betrayed and killed. After these events, which according to him prevented the building of a new empire, Lasalle allegedly spent twelve years travelling the entire east and northwest coast. Everywhere, he was received splendidly as the Malagasy longed for a French settlement. He had studied the products of these regions and established various plantations. According to him, all regions were healthy and fertile, and all islanders gentle and industrious.⁴⁸ If the opening of Lasalle’s narrative seems credible, doubts about his account are justified at the latest once the protagonists arrived on the Great Island. While it is certain that he was in Mahavelona in 1792,⁴⁹ it seems strange that the participation of a Lasalle or Lassale in Beňovský’s second expedition has not been recorded. It is possible that the author cleverly recycled information from Beňovský’s memoirs which had appeared in print a few years earlier. They include a description of the end of Beňovský’s life which is very reminiscent of Lasalle’s narrative.⁵⁰ Be that as it may, apparently Lasalle did not find employment with the French but later with the British, after they had taken Île de France. He took part as an interpreter in a British expedition to the north of Madagascar in 1815 – 1816.⁵¹ That the colonisation of Madagascar was a topic of conversation in the Mascarene Islands can be gleaned from the memoranda of the inhabitants of Île de

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 96, anon., “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar”, 1794.  His name appears in the list of the French at Foulpointe compiled by Lescallier in April 1792. Lescallier includes him among the “traders and settlers”; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 233 512, p. 11, Lescallier, “Nom des Français qui existaient a Foulpointe, au mois d’avril 1792”. Five years later, Lasalle was in Paris, where he wrote a letter to the Directoir to recommend his services in the colonisation of Madagascar; see Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Lasalle to the Directoire, 14 September 1797.  Orłowski, Beniowski, 210 – 230. The use of Beňovský’s memoirs can also be noticed in the memorandum by the esotericist and freemason Jean-Jacques Bacon de La Chevalerie, submitted in 1820. Bacon de La Chevalerie was already eighty-nine years old at this time and could look back on a long military career in Europe and in Saint-Domingue. He had known Beňovský personally and reproduced his stories uncritically; see ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, Bacon de La Chevalerie, “Madagascar”, n.d.; Bésuchet de Saunois, Jean Claude, Précis historique de la franc-maçonnerie, suivie d’une biographie des membres de l’ordre les plus célèbres, vol. 2, Paris 1829, 19 – 20; Gliech, Oliver, Saint-Domingue und die Französische Revolution. Das Ende der weißen Herrschaft in einer karibischen Plantagenwirtschaft, Köln/Weimar/Wien 2011, 256 f.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Extrait de la correspondance de MM. les administrateurs de Bourbon, parvenue au bureau le 16 octobre 1816” (Letter from Lasalle to the administrators of Île Bourbon, 10 June 1816).

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France Siette, Millon, Launay and Kersalaün, or the ship captains and military officers Kerguelen and Montesson. The memoranda also point to the fact that from the start, the milieu of the officers played an important role in the dissemination of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse. Maudave, Beňovský, Kerguelen, La Serre, Montesson and Lasalle had all served as officers. The military personnel were a social group for whom mobility was often a duty as they were transferred to different places within the colonial empire. The professional ethos included a certain intrepidity. It is not surprising then that the news of Maudave’s and Beňovský’s attempts at colonisation spread in these circles and that adventurous souls were found among the officers who were ready to seek their fortune on the Great Island.

The Indian Ocean and Armchair Adventurers The Ministry of the Navy received a particularly large number of memoranda on Madagascar between 1783 and 1785. In those years, the geographical and social scope of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse also seems to have expanded. Now, several people who had no direct connection to the Mascarenes took up the pen. The seafaring adventurers were joined by armchair adventurers. It is possible that this phenomenon may have been connected with the publication of Legentil’s travel report in 1779 and especially with the third edition of the History of the Two Indies (1780). In several cases, however, personal contacts may have been decisive. The late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar reached these circles not least thanks to Pierre François Roze. From 1751 to 1768, Roze was a supercargo of the French India Company and served at times on the ships that this trading company sent to China. In 1768 he settled on Île de France where he held various administrative posts in the Company. He was appointed a member of the Supreme Council by the king in 1771 but, contrary to his later claims, he never took office and resigned as early as 1775 to pursue his own business. He continued to work as a supercargo on behalf of the French port cities and returned to France in 1773 to work for the India Company in Lorient. In the late 1770s and early 1780s, he devoted himself primarily to the education of his children, his plantation on Île de France as well as his health through stays at various spas. He resumed his work as supercargo for the French port cities between 1783 and 1785 and led an expedition to China. During the revolutionary period, Roze became impoverished. Several times he asked for employment with the Ministry of the Navy or in the colonial administration. He claimed to have

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worked for the Ministry of the Navy for thirty years, even though he could only prove two years of service.⁵² In 1783 Roze submitted a memorandum on Madagascar to the Minister of the Navy in which he defended a project that came close to Maudave’s. In contrast to Maudave, Roze, envisaged, like the Abbé Baudeau, purchasing slaves who would gradually be given their freedom. He suggested that the head of the new colony should be a trader, because military men like Maudave could not apply “soft” means. For decades the traders had been doing brilliant business in Madagascar, he claimed. Since Roze had been responsible for the India Company’s trade with Madagascar, these statements could be understood simultaneously as self-praise and as an application for the post of head of a future colony on the Great Island. Yet it was not only through his profession that Roze had come in contact with Madagascar. According to his own account, Roze was well acquainted with Beňovský and claimed to have acquired most of his information about the Red Island from him. He had read Beňovský’s proposal of 1778 for a trading company for Madagascar as well as the memoranda of La Serre, whom probably he had also met personally. Finally, to promote his project, he quoted from Prévost and especially Flacourt.⁵³ When Roze composed his Madagascar memorandum, he lived near Chantilly north of Paris in the same place as a certain Duhamel de Précourt, who submitted a memorandum on Madagascar the following year. The two men knew each other, and Roze asked the minister to seek a comment on his memorandum from Duhamel de Précourt.⁵⁴ The Duhamel in question called himself a former officer of the India Company and pretended to be a French count, a Lieutenant Colonel of Poland and a Knight of the Order of Saint Louis. Submitting his memorandum in 1784, Duhamel pleaded in a very unoriginal way for a “soft” colonial expansion in Madagascar. In it, he even claimed authorship of Maudave’s colonisation plans, asserting that he had already presented the project of a military colony on the Great Island to Praslin, the Minister of the Navy, in 1767. The First Clerk Dubuc, Duhamel maintained, had then asked him for more precise information

 ANOM, E 359, Roze’s personnel file.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, Roze, “Mémoire sur l’isle de Madagascar pour y établir une colonie et un commerce utile à la France 1783 à 1784, dans diverses parties de l’Inde”, 1783 – 1784; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 182, memorandum by Roze, 16 August 1783; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Observations de M. Roze sur le mémoire de M. le chevalier de la Serre sur l’établissement de l’isle de Madagascar”, n.d.  See the end of Roze’s memorandum in ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, Roze, “Mémoire sur l’isle de Madagascar pour y établir une colonie et un commerce utile à la France 1783 à 1784, dans diverses parties de l’Inde”, 1783 – 1784.

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regarding Madagascar on the pretext of clearing up some doubts. Yet it was Maudave who had been chosen to implement the project, according to the said Duhamel “for the sole reason that he had married a young lady from Pondicherry”.⁵⁵ In fact, there is a letter in the naval archives from a certain “Duhamel” dated 7 February 1768 in which the latter tries to win over the First Clerk and vote against Maudave. His main argument for his own candidacy for governor of Madagascar was that, just like Maudave, he came from a very old and good family. Strangely, however, Duhamel was not able not produce a title of nobility.⁵⁶ This letter from 1768 seems to have gone unnoticed. Duhamel de Précourt’s memorandum and his claim to be the actual author of Maudave’s colonisation project were unable to convince Castries, the Minister of the Navy. In a letter of the same year, which probably accompanied the memorandum, Duhamel wrote that the Prince of Soubise had promised to present his memorandum to the Minister of the Navy. According to Duhamel, during an audience in 1783 which he had obtained thanks to the pleas of the Prince of Soubise, Castries had promised to find him employment in the East Indies. Nevertheless, the clerk who summarised this letter for Castries remarked that nobody had yet heard either of a Duhamel or his project. As a result, the Minister of the Navy sent a meaningless reply to Duhamel.⁵⁷ And yet, further traces of Duhamel’s dubious self-fashionings can be found in the naval archives. He wrote from Warsaw to offer his services to the Minister of the Navy in 1775, this time with the titles of colonel and Comte de Précourt, which he did not yet hold in 1768. The new count claimed to have performed outstanding military deeds as a Polish colonel under Kazimierz Pułaski for the Republic of Poland in the war of the Bar Confederation. He offered to gather, at his own expense, 1,200 French deserters and take them to the East Indies to fight for France. He also told of the arrest of a Polish colonel who wanted to betray his fatherland. In doing so, Duhamel wanted to demonstrate to the minister that he had special knowledge of “Nordic affairs”.⁵⁸ Yet the clerk who wrote a note for the minister about Duhamel’s letter remained unimpressed. In view of the

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 3 f., Meunier, “Observations sur un nouveau plan d’établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar, par M. Duhamel Comte de Précourt”, n.d.: “par la raison seule qu’il avoit épousé une demoiselle de Pondichery”.  ANOM, E 150, personnel file of Duhamel de Précourt, Duhamel de Précourt [Meunier] to Dubuc, 7 February 1768.  ANOM, E 150, personnel file of Duhamel de Précourt, Duhamel de Précourt [Meunier] to the Ministry of the Navy, 1784 and answer of 23 July 1784.  ANOM, E 150, Duhamel de Précourt, Duhamel de Précourt to the Minister of the Navy, 8 August 1775: “affaires du nord”.

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complicated situation in the Kingdom of Poland and the fact that nothing was known about Duhamel de Précourt, he reckoned that it would be best not to send him an answer. Though his project to collect deserters was interesting, somebody else had already been tasked with doing so. As for the news about the arrested Polish colonel, it had appeared in the newspapers.⁵⁹ In 1781 Duhamel de Précourt in his application for the Order of Saint Louis apparently succeeded in gaining the support of Besenval, the lieutenant-colonel of the Swiss Guards. To this end, Duhamel had sent copies of various certificates which attested that he had served in India in 1747, between 1750 and 1756 as a musketeer, in the 1760s as a foreign volunteer, and between 1770 and 1775 in Poland under Jerzy Marcin Lubomirski and Kazimierz Pułaski.⁶⁰ However, despite these documents, it is safe to say that Duhamel had neither a military career nor had he been to India. In actual fact, it was Jean-Baptiste Meusnier, one of the most notorious French spies, adventurers and criminals of the eighteenth century, who hid behind the name Duhamel de Précourt. As a police inspector, Meusnier had forged numerous documents in the Bastille police archives in the 1750s and 1760s and thus created many myths and imaginary cases which historians fall for again and again to this day. Meusnier and his accomplices invented prisoners and various expenses of the Bastille so as to enrich themselves personally. In this prison, they had a repository of forbidden writings which they sold. They cheated and blackmailed members of the court. In fact, there is evidence that Meusnier was in contact with Robert-François Damiens who attempted to kill Louis XV in 1757. It was in this context that the police inspector staged his (first) death and went into hiding. Like the Chevalier de La Serre, he acted in the 1760s as a spy for Choiseul in Germany. He also presented himself as a colonisation entrepreneur for Catherine II but was unsuccessful. After the Empress of Russia rejected his recruits as settlers, Meusnier armed these men and had them fight for the Bar Confederation against Russia. In the Bar Confederation, Meusnier was one of the henchmen of General Jerzy Marcin Lubomirski who had a reputation as a ruthless adventurer. When the Confederation was defeated in 1772, Meusnier fled to Austrian territory. He lived in Vienna in 1772 and tried to “sell” his settlers to the Empress Maria Theresa. In 1774 he entered the service of the Polish King Stanisław August Poniatowski, for whom he invented a military biography in which Madagascar played a  ANOM, E 150 (Duhamel de Précourt), note by a clerk about Précourt’s letter, 19 September 1775.  ANOM, E 150 (Duhamel de Précourt), “Copie de certificat de l’Inde”, “Copie du certificat de monsieur le comte de Montboissier”, “Copie du certificat du regiment des volontaires étrangers de Wormser”, “Certificat du prince George Martin Lubomirski”, certificate of Kazimierz Pułaski.

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role. Through this elaborate confidence trick, Meusnier was given the title of lieutenant-colonel which he held during the following years. But he was soon exposed as a spy by the Russians, which is why in 1777, he staged his death for a second time.⁶¹ The years following Louis XVI’s accession to the throne (1774) were a lean period for Meusnier as his patrons were no longer in office. This may explain why in 1775, under the pseudonym Duhamel de Précourt, he tried anew to sign on as an officer in India. Although without military experience, Meusnier, like Beňovský, then sought his fortune in the American War of Independence where he actually served as a lieutenant-colonel in the rebel army under the name Baron von Holzendorf. But he soon returned to Paris and again took the name Duhamel Comte de Précourt. As many of his accomplices were still employed by the police, he was able to operate largely undisturbed in the French capital. He was close to officials in the Royal Library who wrote aggressive diatribes against Marie-Antoinette’s intimate life, which they then offered the royal couple to destroy for a high price. Under the protection of Lenoir, lieutenant-general of the police, Meusnier took part in numerous coups.⁶² In 1786, for example, the supposed Précourt, along with two accomplices, defrauded various Parisian jewellery suppliers and watchmakers of 40,000 livres. One of the three partners presented himself as a wealthy nobleman who was soon to marry an even wealthier woman. For the wedding he bought jewellery and fifteen watches on credit. When jewellers and watchmakers demanded their money, the alleged groom disappeared. Précourt played an outsider who took care of the victims out of pure human kindness. His role was to try to sell back to the traders their own goods, a practice which the latter considered impertinent.⁶³ Apparently, Précourt was so sure of the protection of the police that he did not even try to be credible in his role. Even more spectacular, however, was the famous necklace affair in which he may have taken part. The accomplices went so far as to forge not only the Queen’s handwriting but also to impersonate her in the gardens of Versailles with the help of a prostitute. The criminal, now living again under the

 Muchembled, Les Ripoux des Lumieres, 9 – 411.  Ibid., 411– 469.  Mémoire pour les sieurs Vaucher, Horloger, et Loque, bijoutier, accusateurs; contre le Sieur Bette d’Etienville, le baron de Fages-Chaulnes, et autres accusés; en présence de Monsieur le Procureur-général, Paris 1786; [Meusnier, Jean-Baptiste,] Réponse de M. le comte de Précourt, Colonel d’infanterie, Chevalier de l’ordre royal et militaire de Saint Louis, aux Mémoires des sieurs d’Étienville, Vaucher et Loque, Paris 1786.

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name Meusnier, was also active during the Revolution. While forging assignats, he was also authoring texts on the moral depravity of the Ancien Régime.⁶⁴ In his long career as a fraudster, Meusnier’s memoranda on Madagascar from the years 1768 and 1784 represented but a sideline. What may have led him to compete with Maudave for the post of governor of Madagascar in 1768 is not known. Of course, this question only arises if his letter of 1768 is an original document; in view of his numerous forgeries, doubts about its authenticity are not unwarranted. It was probably his acquaintance with several people that prompted his interest in Madagascar in 1784. First, Roze was his neighbour. Second, Meusnier may have become acquainted with the Chevalier de La Serre in the 1760s as both had been active in the same spy network countering the Prussian secret service, fighting in the Bar Confederation and eventually working in the service of the Polish king. Third, Meusnier was active in the wider circle of Minister Sartine who was interested in Madagascar as his superior Lenoir was a close friend of the former Minister of the Navy.⁶⁵ Finally, it is highly likely that Meusnier had met Beňovský in person either before or after the latter’s Madagascar adventure. Both had been active during the Confederate War in the entourage of Jerzy Marcin Lubomirski and had served in Poland under one and the same general, Kazimierz Pułaski. Another clue to this connection is the fact that Beňovský had adopted the pseudonym “Hadik” in Poland, i. e. the name of Jerzy Marcin Lubomirski’s father-in-law, whose daughter played a major role in the promotion of Meusnier at the Polish court.⁶⁶ Also, after their time in Poland, Beňovský and Meusnier would have had the opportunity to get to know each other, and their patron Pułaski was present in Paris when Beňovský returned from Madagascar to France in 1777. Pułaski emigrated to North America, where he served as a general in the rebel army, and he also wrote a memorandum for the Continental Congress in which he recommended Beňovský’s Madagascar project to the Americans. Beňovský travelled after him and pretended to be his stepbrother so as to find an officer’s position in the army. Meusnier, too, left Paris and sailed to North America to enter the service of the rebels and, unlike Beňovský, was successful. Consequently, Meusnier in all likelihood knew not only Roze and La Serre well, but also Beňovský.⁶⁷

 For the two fraud affairs and on Meusnier’s activity during the revolutionary period, see Muchembled, Les Ripoux des Lumieres, 471– 550.  Ibid., 417– 422.  Orłowski, Beniowski, 28; Muchembled, Les Ripoux des Lumieres, 405 – 409.  Orłowski, Beniowski, 30 – 40, 166 – 172, 183 – 186; Muchembled, Les Ripoux des Lumieres, 371– 399. See the attestations of Meusnier’s military deeds by Kazimierz Pułaski (6 April 1772) as well as by Jerzy Lubomirski (15 June 1775) in ANOM, E 150, personnel file of Duhamel de Précourt. At

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Alongside Meusnier, other more or less colourful personalities, who had never set foot in the Indian Ocean region, submitted memoranda on Madagascar in the 1780s. Among them was Jean-Zénon-André de Véron Baron de La Borie, governor of a small island in the Antilles, Sainte-Lucie. La Borie seems to have been in acute financial difficulties as he wrote numerous letters to his superiors seeking a higher salary and special bonuses. Some of his relatives accused him of cheating them out of money. Appointed governor of Granada in 1782, La Borie had to vacate this position the following year as the island was returned to the British. He was transferred to the small island of Sainte-Lucie. The writing of a memorandum on Madagascar was for him a means to apply for the office of governor of the richer Mascarene Islands. However, this strategy proved unsuccessful. The Minister of the Navy, Castries, replied in a rather condescending tone that from a distance, La Borie could not know what was good for French trade in the Indian Ocean; moreover, his memorandum contained nothing new.⁶⁸ And yet, La Borie’s memorandum differed from the Maudave-inspired mainstream in that he proposed a military conquest of the island.⁶⁹ This might be explained by the fact that in the Antilles, La Borie probably did not have access to the texts of Maudave and his epigones. Another author of memoranda of dubious competence who only discovered Madagascar for himself in connection with Beňovský’s adventures was a certain Louis Ferrand Dupuy, who called himself a former “conseiller de confiance” of the House of Nassau-Saarbrücken. Ferrand Dupuy was a schemer whose house was searched by the police in 1759.⁷⁰ He wrote a memorandum on desertion⁷¹ but, above all, a treatise published in 1776 on the allegedly enormous potential for a colonisation of Corsica, in which he held out the prospect of civilising the Corsicans.⁷² Ferrand Dupuy had something similar in mind with the

least the former appears to be an original document; the Polish-language form of address is free of errors.  ANOM, E 238, personnel file of La Borie. Also see Généalogie et histoire de la Caraïbe 227 (Juillet-aout 2009), 6001; URL: http://www.google.de/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source= web&cd=1&ved=0CCIQFjAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.ghcaraibe.org%2Fbul%2Fghc227% 2Fp5992.rtf&ei=Rk5LVZ6tIcnjU4K9gaAE&usg=AFQjCNF5g0biQkugVQYcODkuaKh-VNtacA&bvm= bv.92765956,d.d24 (last accessed May 7, 2015).  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 191, memorandum by La Borie, 13 September 1784.  Metayer, Christine, “Normes graphiques et pratiques de l’écriture. Maîtres écrivains et écrivains publics à Paris aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles”, in: Annales. Histoire, sciences sociales 56/ 4– 5 (2001), 881– 901.  Ferrand-Dupuy, Louis: SHD, Mémoires techniques, No CGM 1784, “Mémoire sur la désertion”.  Ferrand Dupuy, Louis, Essai chronologique politique et historique sur l’isle de Corse. Avec des notes importantes sur les droits de possession, presque aussi anciens que la monarchie, ensemble

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Malagasy as he describes in a text that dates either from the late 1770s or, more likely, from the early 1780s.⁷³ Among the authors of memoranda who discovered Madagascar from afar during these years, the alleged Comte de Liniers should also be mentioned. Jacques Louis Henri de Liniers came from an old family of the lesser nobility from the Poitou region and was the brother of Jacques de Liniers, who achieved fame in twice defending Buenos Aires against the British in 1806 – 1807 and who was subsequently appointed First Count of Buenos Aires and Viceroy of the Rio de la Plata. Unlike his brother, Jacques Louis-Henri made his career at court rather than in the military. Officially presented to the French king in 1783, he took the title of count and attracted attention mainly for his involvement with the Freemasons, his free-spirited utterances and his writing of wickedly witty epigrams.⁷⁴ Liniers seems to have been close to Louis-Alexandre de La Rochefoucauld⁷⁵ who translated Benjamin Franklin, associated with the Enlightenment thinkers Turgot and Condorcet, and played an important role in the first phase of the French Revolution. The new count wrote a memorandum on Madagascar sometime between 1781 and 1788 which he submitted to the Minister of the Navy, Castries, and to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Vergennes. His memorandum did not exactly sparkle with originality.⁷⁶ What Ferrand Dupuy and Liniers wanted to achieve with their memoranda on Madagascar is not clear. It is conceivable that they were seriously seeking a position in Madagascar but they might also have merely wanted to distinguish themselves as advisers, make contacts and gain advantages of various kinds. It is striking that neither author held a stable social position. Meusnier, too, may have

l’origine de ces peuples, leurs mœurs, […], Par M. Ferrand Dupuy, conseiller de confiance de la Maison souveraine de Nassau, Paris 1776, especially 71– 76.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Mémoire politique et historique sur l‘île de Madagascar […] par M. Ferrand Dupuy, ancien conseiller de confiance intime de la maison souveraine de Nassau Saarbruck”, [1776 – 1783]. It is evident from the text that American independence had already been declared but not yet established. Therefore, Ferrand Dupuy must have written this memorandum between 1776 and 1783.  Richard, Jules, Biographie de Jacques de Liniers, comte de Buenos-Ayres et viceroy de la Plata, 1753 – 1810, Niort 1866, 67– 70; Annuaire de la noblesse de France et des maisons souveraines de l’Europe, Paris 1857, 184; Lastic-Saint-Jal, A. de, Histoire littéraire du Poitou, par Dreux-Duradier. Précédée d’une introduction, et continuée jusqu’en 1849, vol. 2, reprint, Genève 1969, 665; Faucher, Jean-Claude, Histoire des francs-maçons dans le département des Deux-Sèvres, Poitiers 1977, 38, 43 f., 68 f., 99.  La Morinerie, L. de, La Noblesse de Saintonge et d’Aunis convoquée pour les États-généraux de 1789, Paris 1986, 290.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 75, memorandum by Liniers, n.d.

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intended to appear to be a patriotically-minded adviser. As a matter of fact, when he submitted his memorandum on Madagascar in 1784, he was doing well in business and did not need an adventure on the Great Island. It is more likely that Meusnier wanted to act the role of a selfless holder of the Order of Saint Louis, eager to serve king and country. Submitting projects, as Mercier ironically pointed out, was part of demonstrating such special patriotic zeal. The plan of a “soft” colonisation of Madagascar certainly had the advantage of the special veneer of a humane project, which suited Précourt’s role as a friend of humanity. Faraway Madagascar could be used to attract attention in Versailles.

Patronage and Knowledge Production The different careers of the authors of Madagascar memoranda show that thanks to the genre of the memorandum, the French Ministry of the Navy did indeed very frequently receive advice from people who did not work for the French state. The genre of the memorandum made it possible to receive fresh inputs of ideas other than through established official communication channels. As a rule, the ministry officials took note of the memoranda and archived them. Nevertheless, the question arises as to which authors were heeded, and whether communication processes other than the sending of a memorandum were necessary to make oneself heard by the minister. Scholarship emphasises the practices of ruling from a distance through written communication.⁷⁷ Nevertheless, there is much to suggest that physical presence at Versailles, as described in Mercier’s satirical text about the holders of the cross of Saint-Louis was still necessary.⁷⁸ This, in turn, raises the question of the extent to which the French administration was in fact open to the fresh input of ideas from outsiders. In Versailles in the 1760s, a new seat was built for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of the Navy. For the first time in France, office buildings were constructed that were separate from the minister’s premises. This emerging autonomy of the administration found expression in innovative architecture. The rooms were grouped along corridors as in a monastery (Fig. 15), their size and furnishings standardised and they were designed in accordance with the hierarchical position of the respective employee. The furniture of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and of the Ministry of the Navy was of different colours. The archi Steiner, Colberts Afrika.  This phenomenon can be observed particularly well regarding the “economy of honour” of the high nobility; see Pečar, Andreas, Die Ökonomie der Ehre. Der höfische Adel am Kaiserhof Karls VI., Darmstadt 2003, esp. 22– 91.

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tect, unlike the one who designed the royal palace buildings, was not an academician but a civil engineer.⁷⁹ The establishment of a relatively autonomous administration was also reflected linguistically as the ministerial apparatus was now increasingly referred to metonymically as “les bureaux”.⁸⁰

Fig. 15: Layout of the first floor of the Hôtel des Affaires Étrangères et de la Marine, Versailles (with the offices of the Ministry of the Navy).

 Baudez, Basile, “Jean-Baptiste Berthier, un architecte illustre et méconnu”, in: Baudez, Basile/Élisabeth Maisonnier/Emmanuel Pénicaut (eds.), Les Hôtels de la Guerre et des Affaires étrangères, 61– 71.  ANOM, B 155, fol. 22, Minister of the Navy to Beňovsky´, 6 August 1775; BnF, NAF no. 9344, fols. 302– 308, “Lettres du chevalier Grenier défendant ses travaux contre les critiques de l’abbé Rochon et de Le Gentil [Legentil]”, 1771– 1774, here 306; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 22, point 22, “Instructions relatives à l’ensemble de la colonisation à Madagascar”, n.d.; C 5 A 8, no. 13, Coquereau to the Minister of the Navy, 30 January 1777; C 5 A 8 bis, no. 186, fol. 2, “Note concernant M. de Beniowsky”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, “Observations sur un nouveau plan d’établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar, par M. Duhamel Comte de Précourt”, n.d.; MAE, Asie 4, no. 76, memorandum by Précourt [Meunier], 1784, fol. 193.

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The new buildings symbolised the fact that “the offices” were playing an ever-greater role in decision-making. The administration was a communication hub which enabled the processing of information from the rapidly-growing correspondence with the colonial world. The memoranda on non-European regions were also received and read by office staff. Because the authors of memoranda usually had no direct access to the Ministers of the Navy who often belonged to the higher nobility, they usually had to pass through the First Clerk whose office served as a kind of antechamber. Though they addressed their letters and memoranda to the Minister, the First Clerk or his subalterns received and summarised them and often added his own assessment in the form of a note. The Minister responded with a few words in the margin.⁸¹ If the Minister did consider the implementation of a project, he usually had the author of the memorandum confer with the First Clerk,⁸² though he could also ask other people, who were considered competent, for an opinion.⁸³ The opinion of the First Clerk was therefore decisive for the acceptance or disregarding of memoranda. In Maudave’s appointment, probably not only his acquaintance with Praslin was decisive. The reform-oriented Jean-Baptiste Dubuc as First Clerk, who worked for the Minister of the Navy, frequented the salons of Madame Necker and Madame du Deffand and consequently was well-acquainted with Melchior Grimm, Diderot, d’Alembert and Raynal.⁸⁴ The opinions of the First Clerk Michel also helped the “Baron” von Beňovský to appear credible.⁸⁵

 See the communication between Maudave, the First Clerk Dubuc and the Minister of the Navy, which preceded the decision to send Maudave to Madagascar, in ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, nos. 26 and 27.  BnF, NAF no. 9413, fols. 265 – 337, “Mémoires sur l’expédition à Madagascar concernant l’établissement royal en cette isle, dont l’exécution et le commandement ont été confiés par Sa Majesté à Monsieur le Baron de Benyowski, colonel propriétaire d’un corps de volontaires, l’an 1772”, here 265; ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 14, p. 3, “Mémoire sur l’expédition de Madagascar”, n.d.  For letter from the Chevalier de La Serre to the Minister of the Navy regarding Bellecombe’s comments on his memoranda, see ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 200, La Serre to the Minister of the Navy, 6 December 1785; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Observations de M. Rose [Roze] sur le mémoire de M. le chevalier de La Serre”, n.d.  For Dubuc(q)/Du Buc, see Le “Grand Du Buc”, in: Editions Du Buc, URL: http://editionsdubucparis.e-monsite.com/pages/jean-baptite-du-buc-dit-le-grand-du-buc-par-la-reine.html (last accessed January 15, 2018); Duchet, Anthropologie et Histoire, 126; Chaussinand-Nogaret, Choiseul, 208 – 211; Cultru, Un empereur de Madagascar, 128; Ohji, Kenta, “Raynal, Necker et la Compagnie des Indes. Quelques aspects inconnus de la génèse et de l’évolution de l’Histoire des deux Indes”, in: Gilles Bancarel (ed.), Raynal et ses réseaux, Paris 2011, 105 – 182, here 155. Diderot had contact with Dubuc, who frequented the same salons: Diderot, Denis, Œuvres, ed. Laurent Versini, vol. 5: Correspondance, Paris 1997, 541– 543, 573, 579, 590, 760 f., 896, 908, 919, 947, 952, 970, 974, 1022, 1372.

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Throughout the entire process of evaluation and decision-making, it was of prime importance for the authors of the memoranda to be present on site. It was practically impossible for outsiders to initiate the great project of colonising Madagascar from overseas. Maudave, for example, only set forth his plan when he travelled to Versailles as a representative of Île de France to present the interests of the island to the Minister of the Navy. The Creoles from the Mascarenes Millon, Siette and Kersalaün also submitted their projects during a stay in Paris.⁸⁶ Considering the remarkable number of memoranda sent to the Ministry of the Navy on the most diverse topics, one can only agree with Mercier’s description that the “offices” were literally besieged. Once in office, the commanders of Madagascar were supposed to observe a number of rules concerning correspondence that would facilitate the processing of information from overseas. The French governors and commanders of Madagascar were to report both to their superiors on Île de France and directly to the Minister in the form of weekly letters. Each letter was to deal with one topic only, be dated and numbered as well as provided with a keyword summary of the content in the margin. This practice resulted from the fact that the clerks were supposed to compile lists of letters, which would provide a quick overview of the dispatches, their topics, the date of reply and the name of the person responsible. There was, in addition, a technique for comparing information. Where opinions diverged, the clerks and the authors of the memoranda divided the page into two columns. Either the person attacked reacted in the outer column to the criticism copied in the left-hand column, or the two conflicting opinions were set side-byside by the clerks.⁸⁷ Nevertheless, one should not overestimate the bureaucratic rationality produced by these administrative practices. For the decision-making process, courtly logic carried more weight in the end. This was already evident from the artistic adornment of the new Ministries of Foreign Affairs and the Navy. Although the new buildings secured the separation of the administration from Minister Choiseul’s apartments, he remained omnipresent at a symbolic level. Several paintings celebrated Choiseul and his work. One depicted the entry of Ambassador Choiseul into Rome, another the Pacte de famille, the alliance with Spain and Si-

 Also see chapter 5.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 60, Millon to Sartine, 29 September 1775; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 88, 91, Kersalaü n to the Ministry of the Navy, 1786; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 187, memorandum by Siette to Castries, January 1784.  One example among many others is Michel’s commentaries on Béquet’s memoranda; see ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, copies of documents on Madagascar.

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cily which was one of Choiseul’s achievements.⁸⁸ The authors of memoranda had to adapt to courtly norms in order to make themselves heard. Ultimately, there was no way around an audience with the Minister of the Navy and, in some cases, the Foreign Minister. Accordingly, they had to distinguish themselves as potential clients who were already eagerly serving their future patron. The Madagascar discourse was particularly suited to these courtly purposes because it held out the prospect of glory for the minister due to its “philosophical” promise of an expansion that supposedly benefited humanity. Maudave already emphasised that the settlement of Madagascar was “the most useful and glorious enterprise that a minister of the King could attempt”.⁸⁹ Never would a colony be built on a more respectable basis; he would never even have suggested a morally dubious project to the Minister, regardless of the advantages it promised.⁹⁰ For the authors of the memoranda, the benefit of the enterprise was not in question. Ferrand Dupuy believed that the colonisation of Madagascar, together with the establishment of an American republic under French protection, would establish the worldwide dominance of France and “perpetuate the splendour of His Majesty’s glorious reign”.⁹¹ It was important that the public would consider the proposed policy “enlightened”. Consequently, Kersalaün emphasised that to intensify trade, an “enlightened administration” would have to support such a project.⁹² The authors of memoranda liked to resort to emphatic phrases that promised France and its king eternal glory if Madagascar were to be colonised according to philosophical principles. It was nothing less, they claimed, than a rupture with history, which the French king would initiate before the eyes of the world.⁹³ In the enlightened age of philosophy, it would no longer be bloody conquest that would bring eter-

 Janin, Françoise, “Le Monde de Choiseul. L’espace de la diplomatie”, in: Baudez, Basile/Élisabeth Maisonnier/Emmanuel Pénicaut (eds.), Les Hôtels de la Guerre et des Affaires étrangères, Paris 2010, 27– 41.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 62, fol. 2, Maudave to Praslin, 7 August 1768: “l’entreprise la plus utile et la plus glorieuse qu’un Ministre du Roy puisse tenter”.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 2 f., Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Mémoire politique et historique sur l’île de Madagascar […] par Ferrand Dupuy”, n.d.: “immortaliser les fastes du glorieux règne de Sa Majesté”.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 93, memorandum by Kersalaü n, 9 February 1787.  “Il était réservé aux fastes de Louis XVI de donner à l’univers l’exemple d’une conquête faite par la voie de la douceur”, in: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Plan et dévelopement des moyens qui doivent assurer la solidité de l’établissement proposé à Madagascar avec les détails des avantages immenses que la France retirera de cette colonie”, n.d.

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nal glory, but gentleness.⁹⁴ Millon holds out the prospect of such glory to the Minister of the Navy: May the fame of Pizarro and Cortés be inferior to that which we wish to win; may the enlightened century of the just king who governs France surpass the century of Charlemagne and Charles V; may the other nations recognise the superiority of the French [nation, D. T.] in philosophy and humanity.⁹⁵

After the acceptance of the project, the potential colonial masters had to render symbolic services to their patrons. In order to please the ministers, they sometimes gave new names to Malagasy places. Beňovský named the harbour in Antongil Bay Port de Boynes after the Minister of the Navy and the island facing it Île d’Aiguillon after the Foreign Minister.⁹⁶ Particularly welcome were samples of numerous Malagasy products which he sent to the mother country and which, despite his limited knowledge, he provided with natural-historical hypotheses.⁹⁷ The most spectacular proof of his zeal promised to be the dispatch of five crates containing some 500 pounds of extremely precious ambergris, a waxy secretion of the sperm whale, except that the ambergris turned out to be a perfectly ordinary gum.⁹⁸ The governor, Ternay, warned the Minister of the Navy about the fraud,⁹⁹ but as the minister emphasised in a letter, the bottom line was not the accuracy of the information but that the commander of Madagascar showed that he was particularly active.¹⁰⁰ If one measures the opinions of the French ministers by the yardstick of a rational administration according to Max Weber, many of their decisions seem

 Thus, the anonymous “Plan et développement des moyens qui doivent assurer la solidité de l’établissement”, ibid.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 51, p. 4, reflections on Millon’s memorandum, n.d.: “Que la gloire des Pizares et des Cortez cède à celle que nous voulons nous approprier, que le siècle éclairé du Roi juste qui gouverne la France l’emporte sur celui des Charlemagnes et des Charles-le-Quint ; que les autres nations reconnoissent également la supériorité de la françoise pour la Philosophie et l’humanité.”  MAE, Asie 4, no. 28, “Tableau des lettres envoyés par Le Postillon”, item A, n.d. The “île d’Aiguillon” is the present-day Nosy Mangabe. Prior to Beňovský, the French called this island “île Marotte”: ANOM, C 5 A 1, no. 55, “Projet d’établissement à Madagascar”, 1750.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 104, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 22 September 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 110, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 24 September 1774.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 107, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 23. September 1774; A. N., MAR/B/4/125, fol. 280, Saunier to the Minister of the Navy Boynes, 29 January 1775.  ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 116, Ternay to Boynes, 30 October 1774; ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 119, Ternay to d’Aiguillon, 9 November 1774.  Letter of June 1775: ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 52, anon., “Commerce”, June 1775.

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to have been less than expedient. Beňovský, for example, was richly rewarded only a few weeks after his arrival in Versailles in May 1777, even though he had travelled to France without permission and the Ministry of the Navy was well aware of his misdeeds and confidence tricks. Contrary to the rules then in force, the nobleman from Upper Hungary was awarded the Cross of Saint Louis for his special services after only a few years.¹⁰¹ In the following months, despite the poor financial situation of the state, he also received part of the 80,000 livres that the king supposedly owed him.¹⁰² This was in response to Beňovský’s demands which he had already made as commander of Madagascar. At the end of his time on the Great Island, he had claimed to have advanced a total of 215,970 livres.¹⁰³ His success evidently encouraged Beňovský to ask for even more money and favours in the following years. Since he had not obeyed the rules of the financial administration and did not provide any evidence for the validity of his demands, the clerks were perplexed as to the correct procedure. They tried to gauge the credibility of his claims so as to give him a sum that would settle the bill once and for all. It was important not to declare as forgeries the papers that Beňovský had submitted as evidence for his expenses, because in that case, he and his companions would have to be put on trial, as a clerk pointed out. Despite the disorder in his administration, Beňovský should be treated graciously because of his zeal. Thus, the ministerial clerks claimed in the summer and autumn of 1777 that Beňovský could justifiably still claim over a hundred thousand livres.¹⁰⁴ During the following months, the founder of Louisbourg was given money several times so that he received a total of 143,000 livres – an astonishing sum.¹⁰⁵

 ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 3, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 30 May 1776; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 29, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 27 April 1777; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 30, “Considerations sur les titres de M. de Beniowsky à une nomination dans l’ordre de Saint Louis”, 4 May 1777; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 45, “Proposition pour la croix de Saint Louis du baron de Beniowsky”, 26 May 1777; Orłowski, Beniowski, 163.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 66, note from a clerk for the Minister of the Navy, 27 July 1777; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 95, note from a clerk for the Minister of the Navy, 5 November 1777; Orłowski, Beniowski, 163.  ANOM, C 5 A 6, no. 8, “Emprunt au compte du roi pour l’établissement de Madagascar pendant les années 1773 à 1776”, 1 October 1776; C 5 A 8, no. 53, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 7 July 1777; ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 63, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 24 July 1777.  ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 2, “Note concernant le compte établi par M. de Beniowsky”, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 3, “Rapport du compte du baron de Beniowsky”, n.d.; C 5 A 8, no. 124, “Résultat des comptes de M. de Beniowsky”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 132, Beňovsky´ to the Minister of the Navy, 19 April 1778; C 5 A 8 bis, no. 164, “Examen des réclamations de Beniowsky”, 7 December 1779.

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In addition to his annual salary of 6,000 livres, he received an annual pension of 4,000 livres and was awarded the rank of brigadier in May 1778.¹⁰⁶ The clerk in charge believed that the king still owed the former commander of Madagascar 151,869 livres.¹⁰⁷ By this time, Bellecombe and Chevreau’s damning report was known in the Ministry of the Navy but it seems to have had no effect on the way Beňovský was treated.¹⁰⁸ When Beňovský resigned from the service of the French king to enter that of the emperor, they were, contrary to custom, even prepared to continue to pay his pension.¹⁰⁹ In October 1779, Beňovský again demanded money from the king. His demands were initially rejected but, eventually, he was given an additional 22,000 livres.¹¹⁰ As late as 1783, the former commander of Louisbourg made financial demands. Even though Beňovský had already received over 180,000 livres, he still asked for another 200,000 livres. One clerk called this new demand an impertinence,¹¹¹ while another deemed it fair to pay the money to Beňovský, arguing that he had lost his health, two children and his wife in Madagascar, and that he had shown profound knowledge of human nature and had secured the friendship of all Malagasy chiefs without firing a single shot. In the opinion of this clerk, Beňovský’s generosity and the fact that he had familiarised himself with the Malagasy language and customs had earned him the unwavering trust and everlasting affection of all the indigenous people. After all, the sum he was asking for was only the money he had paid out of his own pocket in the service of the king, the clerk wrote.¹¹² The example of how Beňovský was treated after his return to France shows that in making decisions about the fate of authors of memoranda, a courtly logic of patronage rather than a bureaucratic one predominated. For the petitioner, it was most important to present himself as a zealous servant who had sacrificed himself for his king, while the king and his ministers had to show their generos-

 ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 133, “Note concernant les réclamations de M. de Beniowsky, qui demande le grade de brigadier” as well as no. 142, Minister of the Navy to Beňovsky´, 14 June 1778.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 133.  That the report was known in ministerial circles is evident from a letter from Sartine to the king; see ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 134, Sartine to Louis XVI, 22 May 1778.  ANOM, C 5 A 8, no. 148, “Note sur les réclamations de M. de Beniowsky et la permission qu’il a demandée de passer au service de l’empereur”, 25 July 1778.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 158 bis 164.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 179, “Mémoire concernant de nouvelles revendications financières de M. de Beniowsky”, 17 May 1783.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 186, “Note concernant M. de Beniowsky, ses reclamations d’argent”, n.d.

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ity.¹¹³ If one did not want to condemn the Madagascar enterprise outright, one had to put up with Beňovský’s transgressions of norms and laws. There were only two options available, either to reward the former commander of Madagascar generously or to punish him severely, and the latter was hardly possible without losing face. Thus, lacking solid information, the ministerial staff decided in Beňovský’s favour. Not only did the disregard of the commander of Madagascar for administrative rules go unpunished, but it even proved to be a most profitable strategy for making unfounded claims. In this case, besieging the offices brought success to the petitioner. The same logic of patronage may be seen in the regard, or disregard, paid to the authors of memoranda. The decisive factor was not so much expertise as the support of an official or dignitary. The people who knew Madagascar well such as interpreters and officers who were on site either did not communicate with the Ministry of the Navy at all or they were barely acknowledged when they did. Thus, it was not the expert Valgny who was commissioned to establish a colony but Maudave who had never seen the Great Island, but who had in his youth served under Praslin, since appointed Minister of the Navy.¹¹⁴ Among the French, Beňovský’s interpreter Nicolas Mayeur was without doubt one of the most knowledgeable experts on Madagascar. However, he never came into contact with a higher administrative body, let alone with the Minister of the Navy himself. His travel accounts, which today are rated among the most important sources for the Great Island in the eighteenth century, were therefore completely unknown in Versailles and Paris. Millon and Roze, in contrast, were listened to. Millon was a client of Sartine’s, and Roze was a protégé of Castries. They both belonged to the elite of the Parisian Nobles of the Robe (noblesse de robe). So, both had their memoranda presented to the respective Minister of the Navy, to whom they were close.¹¹⁵

 For the logic of gift-giving at court, see Stollberg-Rilinger, Barbara, “Zur moralischen Ökonomie des Schenkens bei Hof (17.–18. Jahrhundert)”, in: Paravicini, Werner (ed.), Luxus und Integration. Materielle Hofkultur Westeuropas vom 12. Bis zum 18. Jahrhundert, Mü nchen 2010, 187– 202.  Praslin writes himself that he has “known Maudave for a long time”; see ANOM, DFC, XVII/ mémoires/88, no. 31, fol. 1, copy of a letter from Praslin to Dumas and Poivre, n.d. This old relationship of patronage between Choiseul-Praslin and Maudave has escaped Foury; see Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 359 – 365. For the beginning of Maudave’s military career, see Foury, “Maudave (1ère partie)”, 346 f.  Millon had known Sartine “for a long time”, as he says in a petition: ANOM, E 313 (Millon), “Mémoire pour le Sieur Millon”, 22 July 1776: “depuis longtemps”. According to a letter from a certain De Moine, Roze knew the Marshal of Castries well, see ANOM, E 359, personnel file of Roze, De Moine to Roze, 16 May 1782.

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It is notable that among the authors of memoranda of the 1770s and 1780s, the Chevalier de La Serre was the one most heeded. The Ministry asked for comments on his texts from Roze,¹¹⁶ from Trévau, the ship’s captain of the India Company,¹¹⁷ as well as from a third person whose name is unknown.¹¹⁸ In 1785 La Serre also conferred with the former Inspector Bellecombe.¹¹⁹ It was well known in the Ministry in the 1780s¹²⁰ that La Serre had not seen anything of Madagascar except Mahavelona. Of greater importance, however, was the fact that the Chevalier was a protégé of court personages like Choiseul, Louis René Édouard de Rohan-Guéméné and Sartine, the former Minister of the Navy.¹²¹ Although in the 1780s, the Choiseul faction was no longer in power, and at Necker’s instigation, the Minister of the Navy was no longer Sartine but Castries, this network remained influential: both Sartine and Castries had made careers as Choiseul’s clients, and Sartine had worked with Vergennes in previous years.¹²² Moreover, La Serre was probably a close acquaintance of Roze’s, who was a client of Castries.

The Memoranda and their Archiving Due to the logic of patronage, authors of memoranda without any Madagascar expertise were thus able to influence the images of Madagascar time and again. However, the incompetence of many of the authors was not the only problem. The genre of the memorandum itself had its flaws: it went together with a certain presentation of knowledge which contributed significantly to the dys-

 ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “Observations de M. Rose sur le mémoire de M. le chevalier de la Serre sur l’établissement de l’isle de Madagascar”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 70, “Observations du capitaine Trevau sur l’établissement projeté par le chevalier de la Serre”, n.d.  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, “À Monsieur D… seul s’il lui plait. Analise en bref sur les mémoires de M. le chevalier de L. S.”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 200, “Conférence du 4 décembre 1785 entre M. de Bellecombe, maréchal de camp, et le chevalier de la Serre”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 62, note by a clerk on the accusations against La Serre, n.d.  Centre historique des archives de la Défense, GR 28d 8 (dossier individuel de Jean-François de La Serre).  Horowski, Die Belagerung des Thrones, 341, 354– 357; Chaussinand-Nogaret, Choiseul, 149 f., 314– 320; Labourdette, Jean-François, Vergennes. Ministre principal de Louis XVI, Paris 1990, 132, 145 – 150; “Castries, Charles Eugène Garbiel de la Corix, marquis de” and “Sartine, Antoine Raimond Jean Gualbert Gabriel, chevalier de, comte d’Alby”, in: Zanco, Jean-Philippe, Dictionnaire des ministres de la Marine 1689 – 1958, Paris 2011, 184– 187 and 481– 483.

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functionalities of information acquisition by the French administration. A memorandum was expected to provide both a “philosophical” description of the island and a presentation of a colonial project. Consequently, no separation was made between the generation of knowledge and the promotion of a project. This did not bother contemporaries much since a prerequisite for what constituted enlightened knowledge was precisely the interlocking of description and promotion of a good cause. The consequence, however, was that to a colonial administrator who relied on memoranda, Madagascar was known primarily from propaganda for colonial expansion. Moreover, the inclusion in the holdings of the administration of memoranda even from individuals with dubious Madagascar expertise, as well as their being annotated by ministerial staff and other authors of memoranda, made these texts more authoritative. Readers of memoranda were often no longer able to reconstruct the context in which these Madagascar images had been created. In order for handwritten memoranda to influence courtiers or their clients, however, they first had to be preserved and made accessible to a certain readership. It is clear that the authors of the memoranda copied from Maudave, and some of the texts even seem to be plagiarised.¹²³ These men, who aspired to become colonial masters, implicitly admitted this practice of copying by referencing the governor of Fort-Dauphin in their texts.¹²⁴ Occasionally, long extracts from Maudave’s writings were reproduced and sent to the Ministry of the Navy to support a new, but very similar, colonisation plan.¹²⁵ When Beňovský invented his stories from scratch, he always fell back on Maudave.¹²⁶ This practice of copying confirms that Maudave’s manuscripts circulated and were eventually read by

 Particularly clearly so in the case of a memorandum by the Chevalier de la Serre; see ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 68, “Vues générales d’administration sur l’établissement projeté à Madagascar”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 4, fol. 8, excerpts from Legentil’s travel report; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 6, copies of documents on Madagascar; C 5 A 9, no. 60, fol. 1, memorandum by La Serre, n.d.; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 63, fol. 2, Maudave to Praslin, 30 August 1768.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, transcripts of documents on Madagascar; ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 12, transcripts of documents on Madagascar.  Beňovsky´, Móric Ágost, Voyages et mémoires de Maurice-Auguste, Comte de Benyowsky, magnat des royaumes d’Hongrie et de Pologne etc. etc., contenant ses opérations militaires en Pologne, son exil au Kamchatka, son évasion et son voyage à travers l’océan pacifique, au Japon, à Formose, à Canton en Chine et les détails de l’établissement qu’il fut chargé par le ministère françois de former à Madagascar (vol. 2), Paris 1791, vol. 2, 447. It is significant that the “Rohandrians” and other population groups mentioned by Flacourt appear in Beňovský’s accounts of his election as ‘Ampansakabe’, although these terms are not recorded for the north of Madagascar.

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various actors who did not know the former governor of Fort-Dauphin personally. But how did these men have access to Maudave’s writings? It is little surprising that Maudave’s ideas became famous in the small circle of scholars on Île de France. However, it is remarkable that even people without contact with Île de France and Maudave’s circle were inspired by the memoranda of the governor of Fort-Dauphin. This can be explained to a large extent by the institutionalisation of a new site of information gathering in the eighteenth century, namely the naval archives. The practice of transcription shows that the administration’s repository of knowledge was indeed used by outsiders in the later eighteenth century. This finding is consistent with the results of recent scholarship on the permeability of early modern archives.¹²⁷ As an institution in its own right, the archive was a relatively new phenomenon in the French administration. Unlike England, the Netherlands or Spain, France as late as the seventeenth century did not have a central archive. The legal documents of the monarchy were in the hands of the Paris parlement, which proved problematic in the Fronde. For this reason, Colbert in the 1660s endeavoured to build up a new information apparatus. He located the Royal Library opposite his city palace (hôtel particulier) and collected manuscripts in an archive. However, this by no means meant the establishment of a true state archive as Colbert distinguished only insufficiently between his property and that of the king. Because the documents were in his private possession, his vast collection remained unnoticed in the palace of his descendants until the Revolution.¹²⁸ It was not until the late seventeenth century that the archives of the secretaries of state came into being. There had been no naval archive worth mentioning before 1699. Even in the first half of the eighteenth century, the holdings were stored in the ministers’ residences and travelled with the people who used them. Many were lost. Since there was little or no staff responsible for the archives, it was hardly possible to access the existing holdings when needed. Indeed, it took tremendous effort to ensure the utilisation of an archive.¹²⁹ Accordingly, a clerk of the Minister of the Navy stated in 1733 that the holdings of the colonial world were slight. Apparently, Moïse-Augustin Fontanieu, a Minister of the Navy in the early eighteenth century, did not have a single docu-

 Friedrich, Die Geburt des Archivs, 15.  Soll, Jacob, “Jean-Baptiste Colberts geheimes Staatsinformationssystem und die Krise der bü rgerlichen Gelehrsamkeit in Frankreich 1600 – 1750”, in: Brendecke, Arndt/Markus Friedrich/Susanne Friedrich (eds.), Informationen in der Frü hen Neuzeit. Status, Bestände, Strategien, Berlin 2008, 359 – 374.  Friedrich, Die Geburt des Archivs, 51– 89, 135 – 140.

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Fig. 16: Floor plan of the ground floor of the Hôtel des Affaires Étrangères et de la Marine with the Grande Galerie (on the right-hand side of the engraving), Versailles.

ment added to the archives.¹³⁰ One of the consequences of this poor documentation was that the Ministry of the Navy had hardly any information about the colonisation attempt on Nosy Boraha in the 1750s and early 1760s. When staff of the ministry in the early nineteenth century sought information about this colony from an employee at the Ministry of Finance who held the archives of the India Company, he replied that this trading company apparently had never had a settlement on either Nosy Boraha or Madagascar.¹³¹ The establishment of administrative offices in Versailles in the early 1760s changed the archival situation. The architecture of the headquarters of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and of the Ministry of the Navy illustrates the central

 ANOM, F 2 A 11, anon. to the Minister of the Navy, 11 April 1733 (folder “documents divers, 1626 – 1789”).  ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Lettre du citoyen Goussard, commissaire de la comptabilité nationale, au citoyen Vaivre, chef de la division coloniale au ministère de la marine, sur les documents relatifs à Madagascar existant dans les archives de la comptabilité nationale. Paris, 12 pluviôse an IX”, 1 February 1801.

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place given to the archives in the public image of the administration. The large gallery with the representation rooms housed the archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Fig. 16). Here, the symbolism is particularly clear. The designation, disposition and furnishings of the rooms that have survived to this day symbolised the role of arbitrator of Europe which the French king claimed for himself. The central hall is called the “Hall of France” (Salle de France), and paintings of Madrid and Naples are displayed here as they were allied with France through the Bourbon family pact. To the left and right of this hall, there are two rooms each, dedicated to the powers of one part of Europe: the northern powers (puissances du nord) and southern powers (puissances du midi) on the one hand, and the “German powers” (puissances d’Allemagne) and the “Italian powers” (puissances d’Italie) on the other. In the allegorical representations that can be seen between the windows, a painting entitled “Learned Europe” (L’Europe savante) celebrates not only the alliances of France and the family pact but also the knowledge of the French king. The composition conveys why it was the state rooms that housed the archives. It was a matter of staging the penetration of the French gaze of the European space.¹³²

Fig. 17: Section of the Hôtel des Affaires Étrangères et de la Marine in Versailles.

 Janin, “Le Monde de Choiseul”, 27– 41.

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With the construction of the new building for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Ministry of the Navy, the documents were transferred from the Palace of Pontchartrain in Paris to Versailles and gathered in a single place. In the new building, the Ministry of the Navy commanded that part of the ground floor where the maps and plans of the colonies as well as the models of harbours and fortifications were stored. On the third floor, the models of ships were housed on large tables and, in a cabinet under the roof, the naval maps were kept (Fig. 17).¹³³ The memoranda on colonial policy topics were kept separately. The impressive gallery of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs already showed the special place accorded to the genre of the memorandum. At either end of the large gallery, there are two rooms, each of which was dedicated to a particular genre of foreign policy, treaties and memoranda respectively. This spatial arrangement indicates that the French administration recognised three main genres, namely legal documents, correspondence and memoranda.¹³⁴ The Ministry of the Navy facilitated access to colonial policy memoranda by setting up a separate archive in Versailles, the “Repository of Maps and Plans of the Colonies” (Dépôt des cartes et des plans des colonies), which, contrary to its name, contained not only maps, but also memoranda. The beginnings of this archive went back to Colbert who had collected documents on the navy and the distant regions at the Place des Victoires, in the neighbourhood of his palace and the seat of the headquarters of the East India Company that had been founded at his instigation. There was a decree in 1776 that all maps and plans of the colonial world available in France were to be sent to Paris to the Repository of Maps and Plans either as originals or as copies. In 1778 this collection found its home in the Ministry of the Navy in Versailles.¹³⁵ The establishment of a separate archive for memoranda and maps was central to the dissemination of knowledge about Madagascar, as this archive served as a kind of documentation centre for the non-European world. The Repository of

 Baudez, Basile, “Un chantier exemplaire”, in: Baudez, Basile/Élisabeth Maisonnier/Emmanuel Pénicaut (eds.), Les Hôtels de la Guerre et des Affaires étrangères à Versailles, Paris 2010, 43 – 59, here 44 f., 56 f. Also in Taillemite, Étienne, Les Archives de la Marine conservées aux Archives nationales. Deuxième édition complétée et mise à jour par M. Philippe Henrat, conservateur en chef aux Archives nationales, Paris 1991, 4.  Janin, “Le Monde de Choiseul”.  Rinckenbach, Alexis, Archives du dépôt des fortifications des colonies. Indes, Paris 1998, 7– 9. According to Taillemite, however, the naval archives on Colbert’s instructions were probably stored in the Château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye and were only moved to the Place des Victoires under Pontchartrain; see Taillemite, Les Archives de la Marine, 3.

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Maps and Plans significantly facilitated access to the texts that contained pleas for colonial expansion on the Great Island. Reading the weekly correspondence between the overseas officials and the Ministry was onerous, for the letters were numerous and dealt with a wide variety of topics. The memoranda, on the other hand, summarised in a concentrated form all the information needed to propose or discuss a colonial project. So, when a clerk of the Ministry wanted to inform himself about a foreign region of the world, he would resort to the memoranda. This practice may be observed, for example, in 1793, when the Ministry of the Navy wanted to implement a law to convert Fort-Dauphin into a penal colony.¹³⁶ Moreover, access to the archive was little restricted. Not only clerks who were conducting research in these holdings were granted access to the archive but also various people who were assigned an overseas mission by the Minister of the Navy or who were simply in contact with state dignitaries. Beňovský thus received copies of Maudave’s texts or read them in Paris. It is likely that it was here, too, that the Chevalier de La Serre familiarised himself with the memoranda on Madagascar. According to his own account, Charles Leclerc de Montlinot, who was active in the Committee for the Solution of the Question of Begging (Comité de mendicité) during the French Revolution, read memoranda by La Serre, Sanglier, Kerguelen and Cossigny.¹³⁷ The Repository of Maps and Plans was also crucial for Raynal, who demonstrably reproduced unprinted memoranda from these holdings in his History of the Two Indies. ¹³⁸ Thus, the establishment of the late Enlightenment knowledge about Madagascar among the general public presumably also had much to do with the institutionalisation of a separate archive for memoranda. In order to write a text about the Red Island, the authors simply had to copy some memoranda that the archive made accessible to them. Moreover, the inclusion of memoranda in an archive separate from correspondence could further contribute to the tendency to objectify the ideas of the Madagascar texts. First, this phenomenon had to do with the prestige of the archive as an institution. Referring to a memorandum he had found in Port-Louis, the merchant Hugon from Île de France in 1798 wrote to GeorgesRené Pléville Le Pelley, the Minister of the Navy, that military information about India should best be taken from the archives, “to guard against personal

 ANOM, C 4 108, fol. 345, “Fait le 2 décembre 1793. L’adjoint de la 5e division de la marine et des colonies, au citoyen Gouly, député de l’Isle de France à la Convention nationale. Paris, le 12 frimaire an deuxième de la République”, 2 December 1793.  Leclerc de Montlinot, Essai sur la transportation, 31.  Duchet, Anthropologie et Histoire, 126 – 135.

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opinions”.¹³⁹ The archives were thus considered a repository of objective state knowledge. Second, the separate archive for memoranda removed the documents from their respective contexts, which undoubtedly had an influence on their reception. In most cases, the accompanying letters were not transferred to the Repository of Maps, which rendered the memoranda anonymous. Even in those cases where the author was known, readers could hardly reconstruct how these documents had come into being without the correspondence between the author and the administration. In most cases, the interests behind the memoranda could only be guessed at. The archive not only made it possible to transcribe memoranda that had been included in the holdings, but also enabled the authors of memoranda to refer to the opinions of others. One consequence was that the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse was characterised by a high degree of self-referentiality. The authors liked to refer to the experience and opinion of other proponents of the discourse in order to give an impression of unanimity among experts in the assessment of Madagascar. This ignores the fact that the Madagascar memoranda had been written in order to legitimise certain plans. Within this framework, the propagandistic descriptions that were inherent in the genre of the memorandum were simply presented as experiences. Thus, Cossigny invoked the experiences of Maudave to combat negative opinions about Madagascar and the Malagasy.¹⁴⁰ The self-referentiality of the Madagascar discourse becomes even more evident when in proof of the appropriateness of the project of a “soft” colonisation, the congruities between the individual projects are emphasised. One commentator stressed that La Serre was of the same opinion as Flacourt, Rennefort, Legentil and Maudave.¹⁴¹ The supposed Précourt, who in reality was Meusnier, pointed out that Roze’s memorandum followed the same principles as his own.¹⁴² Millon was pleased that he was not the only one to hold

 ANOM, C 4 112, fol. 148, Hugon to Pléville, 14 August 1789: “pour se garantir des opinions particulières”. Hugon wrote several descriptions of Madagascar, which he sent to the Minister of the Navy to recommend his services, see ANOM, MAD 7 15, “Fevrier 1818. Isle Sainte Marie de Madagascar” (2 February 1818), “Madagascar”, “Mémoires de Barthelemy Hugon sur Madagascar (1818)”.  ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 87, fol. 6 f., memorandum by Cossigny, 1 January 1773. For a similar argument, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61, fol. 1, “Projet de Millon d’un établissement françois à Madagascar”, n.d.  ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 60, fol. 1, “Mémoire sur Madagascar contenant les motifs determinant d’y former un établissement, par le chevalier de la Serre”, n.d.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fol. 5 f., “Observations sur un nouveau plan d’établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar, par M. Duhamel Comte de Précourt”, n.d.

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out the prospect of a “healthy and peaceful settlement”.¹⁴³ Kersalaün referred to the “most credible authors” and La Borie to the memoranda stored in the archives.¹⁴⁴ It is pointed out in several papers that there is unanimity concerning Madagascar between the authors of projects in that they all emphasise both the advantages of the Great Island and the natives’ gentleness and willingness to learn. Thus, repetitions stemming from the practice of transcription turned into evidence.¹⁴⁵ This tendency is most evident in the collection of documents that the clerk Michel compiled for Sartine. This collection gave rise to this Minister of the Navy’s conviction in 1775 that Beňovský should be supported and the Great Island colonised. In comments in the margin, Michel had noted the congruities between authors. In Maudave’s memoranda, he emphasised any information that concurred with Flacourt’s descriptions. As Maudave had copied from Flacourt, such congruities were numerous, which increased Maudave’s credibility in the eyes of the clerks.¹⁴⁶ Mere copying thus reinforced the reality effect.

The New Epistemic Setting of the Restoration Period The explanations in chapters 8 to 11 so far have shown that there were structural reasons that explain the persistence of the Madagascar dream over several decades and that these were primarily related to Enlightenment conceptions of history, ideas and legitimisations of knowledge, as well as to patronage networks, media of information and the creation of the archive of the Ministry of the Navy. But what, in view of this, prompted the commercial agent Sylvain Roux after 1815 to abandon the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse which, for fifty years, had dominated the writings of the French elite, and how can his success in doing

 ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 57, Millon to Sartine, 15 June 1775: “un établissement sain et pacifique”.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 89, fol. 2, “Observations sur les réflexions que le monseigneur le maréchal de Castries fit l’autre jour à M. le comte de Kersalaü n”, n.d.: “les auteurs les plus accrédités”; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 191, fol. 4, “Projet de M. de Laborie”, 13 September 1784.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 4, fol. 8, excerpts from Legentil’s travel report; C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 5, “Fort Dauphin. Observations dont nous ne connaissons point l’auteur”, transcripts of documents about Madagascar and also fol. 6, “Extrait d’un mémoire du S. Becquet chef de traite”; the Chevalier de La Serre: C 5 A 9, no. 63, fol. 2, “Résumé général sur le projet d’un établissement à Madagascar”, n.d.; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 53, fol. 1, “Mémoire sur Madagascar”, June 1775; Leclerc de Montlinot, Essai sur la transportation, 31.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, among others fol. 1, transcripts of documents on Madagascar. Similarly in ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 12, in particular fol. 1, transcripts of documents about Madagascar. ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, fol. 1, “Extraits du journal de Modave”.

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so be explained? In the following, the extent to which the structural conditions of knowledge production changed during the Restoration period will be discussed. There are four changed parameters that can explain how early nineteenthcentury colonial policymakers could learn from the difficult experiences the French had had in the second half of the eighteenth century while the French elite had shown itself rather resistant to learning for decades. First, the decision-makers now drew more than previously on expert knowledge. Forestier, the State Councillor and Vice-President of the Council of the Navy, relied on the opinion of a person with many years of experience in Madagascar, namely the commercial agent Roux. Due to patronage relations among other things, it was not Valgny or Mayeur who had set the tone after the Seven Years War, but the Madagascar-ignorant Maudave, Beňovský, Lescallier and other adventurers. These authors and politicians had not even understood the Malagasy princes as political actors with their own strategy. Roux and the members of the expedition of 1818 – 1819, in contrast, made great efforts to understand the political situation and the positioning of the individual kings and the different upper classes. In the early nineteenth century, the Ministry of the Navy and the Council of State both set much greater store by expertise. Even Roux’ knowledge was not enough for the Parisian decision-makers. They decided to send an expedition to Madagascar to study the political, epidemiological and agricultural conditions more closely on the ground. In doing so, the Parisian colonial political elite did not only seek information from a French representative in Madagascar, as had been the case in the time of Maudave, Beňovský or Lescallier. It now relied on a whole range of specialists including the trading agent Roux and his subordinates, a land surveyor, a botanist, an engineering geographer, several ship captains and their subordinates, some traders as well as the governor of Île Bourbon. This approach not only had the advantage of mobilising different expertise but it also limited the danger of manipulation. Thus, no longer could any actor play the role of gatekeeper or invent a novel-like account. Second, it is noticeable that the media for information gathering had changed to some extent, or at least their function had. The documents written by the expedition members were not memoranda but reports that contained concrete information based on day-to-day observations. The decision makers in Paris primarily relied on these texts and various letters. Now, a stronger distinction was made between the stage of information gathering in which texts were requested from experts, and the planning stage which took place in memoranda penned by a high Parisian dignitary (in this case Forestier), written on the basis of the information gathered. In this respect, the lists of documents that the Ministry of the Navy sent to Forestier, the State Councillor, in preparation for his sec-

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ond memorandum are illuminating. In September 1819, the Ministry did send him copies of a few older memoranda (by Cossigny and by La Serre) which the clerks still considered relevant. At the same time, however, they also sent copies of critical reactions to these projects.¹⁴⁷ Above all, Forestier received transcripts of numerous relevant reports and letters from actors who were active either in Madagascar or at least in the southern Indian Ocean region. Among other things, the Ministry of the Navy sent him the reports of the expedition members as well as all of Milius’ letters.¹⁴⁸ In the information process, the genre of the memorandum now played a lesser role than before. The decline of memoranda as a medium of information is also reflected in changes that affected the colonial repository. This archive of maps and memoranda had been conceived in the Ancien Régime as an information centre for the non-European world. During the Restoration period, however, it no longer played this role. Thus, the repository remained in Versailles while the Ministry was given a seat at the Place de la Concorde. The purpose of this archive also changed. It was given the name “Colonial Fortifications Repository” (Dépôt des fortifications des colonies) and now only accepted documents concerning the fortifications in the colonies. In the late 1810s and early 1820s, individual reports and letters on the political situation or the coasts of Madagascar were still integrated into the holdings, for example a copy of Mackau’s report from 1819. General memoranda on colonisation projects like those of the eighteenth century, however, no longer found their way into the archives.¹⁴⁹ Furthermore, the Ministry of the Navy created a new repository for material relating to shipping.¹⁵⁰ The archives became specialised. Third, the Ministry of the Navy reaped the fruits of the labour of a learned society called Société d’émulation de l’Île de France (roughly “Society for the promotion of zeal for progress”), which had existed for a short time at the beginning of the nineteenth century and had collected relevant up-to-date descriptions of the Great Island. This is how texts by true experts on Madagascar like Dumaine,  List of documents sent to Forestier in September 1819: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14, “Bordereau des pièces adressés en communication à Forestier par la depêche du … septembre 1819”.  Lists of the documents sent to Forestier on 24 July and 28 August 1819 as well as a letter from the Minister of the Navy to Forestier dated 28 August 1819: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14.  Some letters and reports on Madagascar; see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/89, nos. 109, 112, 116. According to Rinckenbach, the holdings of the colonial repository were brought to Paris in 1796, though letters from the years 1818 – 1819 state that the repository remained in Versailles. Cf. Rinckenbach, Archives du dépôt des fortifications des colonies, 9.  Archives nationales, MAR 3JJ 348 and 350.

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Fressanges, Mayeur, Chapelier and Lilet Geoffroy reached a public audience, albeit a limited one. This new knowledge was reflected, for example, in the “Essai sur Madagascar” by d’Unienville (1816 or 1817), a former naval officer who had settled on Île de France in 1792. Although d’Unienville wanted to use his text to provide knowledge for a French expansion in Madagascar, he did not write a memorandum that mixed descriptions of the island with the promotion of a colonisation project. Instead, he contented himself with summarising a large amount of information that the former learned society had made available.¹⁵¹ The collection of the learned society also proved crucial for the British administration under Sir Robert Farquhar. The Governor of Mauritius commissioned the ethnographer Eugène de Froberville to collect reliable documents on Madagascar. Subsequently, Froberville sent Farquhar Mayeur’s texts among others, which contained the first European descriptions of the highlands of Madagascar.¹⁵² Fourth, the new tendency of the French colonial administration to resort to experts, ask for more concrete information and to build up specialised knowledge corresponded to the fact that Roux and his colleagues deliberately did not want to produce philosophie. According to the understanding of the trade agent, knowledge did not have to be “philanthropic”, that is, it did not have to be concerned with the betterment of humanity. Roux clearly distinguished between the good and the true, between ethics and information. It was precisely this distinction that helped him to find different explanations for the conflicts that had arisen in the preceding decades between the French and the Malagasy, which had contributed significantly to the failure of the colonisation ventures. Roux did not believe that the violence resulted from the violation of the humanitarian principles of a soft expansion. His explanation of the conflicts – the alleged perpetual hatred of “blacks” for “whites” – may seem crude and superficial, but it enabled him to think that to the Malagasy, the French expansion was fundamentally unwelcome. Roux thus built up expectations of a future that took into account the previous experience of the French on the Great Island. Beyond all the differences in their life histories and destinies, several conclusions may be drawn from this examination of the social profile of the authors of memoranda, their interaction with the authorities at Versailles as well as the institutions that ensured the long-term impact of their texts. First, most of the au ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, “Essai sur Madagascar, par d’Unienville”, [1816 or 1817].  Mayeur, “Voyage dans le sud”. For Mayeur and Froberville, see Deschamps, Histoire de Madagascar, 154; Valette, Jean (ed.), “Documents pour servir à l’étude des relations entre Froberville et Mayeur”, in: Bulletin de l’Académie malgache 46 (1968), 79 – 104.

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thors of the memoranda had been resident in the Mascarenes at least periodically and often knew each other personally. This finding does not only apply to the circle of overseas philosophes Maudave, Cossigny, Legentil, Rochon, Commerson and Sonnerat. It is likely that on the small Mascarene Islands, where in upperclass society everyone knew everyone and every newcomer was the object of social curiosity, Roze, Siette de la Rousselière, Millon and Kersalaün had also met several of these people as well as Beňovský. Rochon and Kerguelen got to know Beňovský, and the same may be assumed for Cossigny and Siette. Second, the case of the authors of memoranda who had never travelled to the Indian Ocean region shows that from around 1780, the news of the colonisation attempts in Madagascar also spread in the mother country. Beňovský in particular became a famous personality in Paris and Versailles.¹⁵³ Third, it is noticeable that many authors of memoranda found themselves in difficulty when they sent their texts to the Ministry. When submitting their memoranda, none of the project authors held a position in the French state apparatus of the Indian Ocean. Several of them – Maudave, Millon and La Borie among them – were being crushed by a mountain of debt. Others like Kerguelen, La Serre and Rochon had reached the nadir of their careers when they began to promote their Madagascar plans. Legentil had begun to take an interest in the Great Island during a period of inactivity and published his journey only after he had lost his goods and chattels. Ferrand Dupuy and Lasalle had no fixed social position, while Meusnier lived from criminality. Liniers did not hold any office either nor did he come from a wealthy family. Even though La Borie was Governor of Sainte-Lucie, this island was one of the smallest French possessions in the Caribbean and hardly enabled him to pay off his debts. Fourth, the unusually high concentration of adventurers and impostors in that group of authors of memoranda is truly striking. The history of knowledge would do well to pay more attention not only to scholars but also to such dubious personalities.¹⁵⁴ The case of the late Enlightenment Madagascar discourse suggests that adventurers without any expertise could play an important role in establishing bodies of knowledge. Several of the authors of memoranda were genuine or false counts, and frequently they actually, or else allegedly, wore the Order of Saint Louis, as in Mercier’s “Painting of Paris”. The aim of many authors of memoranda was to try their luck as colonial rulers, and this intention shaped their images of Madagascar. The colonies offered considerable  Orłowski, Beniowski, 162 f.  McClellan and Regourd, for example, have mainly studied scholars, see Regourd, Sciences et Colonisation; McClellan/Regourd, “The Colonial Machine”; McClellan, Colonialism and Science.

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scope for illicit enrichment, as the stories of Beňovský and La Serre testify. Apart from the hope of becoming rich as a colonial ruler, the desire to present oneself as a philanthropist certainly also played a role. Fifth, above all the Madagascar authors had to submit to a courtly logic in order to be noticed and promoted. The administration did play an important role as a communication hub, and the authors of memoranda first had to pass through the office of the First Clerk. This examination went hand in hand with established procedures of information processing. Once in office, the overseas agents were to make use of the techniques of information transfer that would provide Versailles headquarters with insights into the actions of the overseas actors. Ultimately, however, the reception of texts on Madagascar reflected relationships of patronage. The authors who attracted most attention were mostly those who had important court personages as patrons. Moreover, it was more important for a minister to gain clients who were loyal and could contribute to the enhancement of his symbolic capital than to follow a bureaucratic logic of information gathering and processing. The decisions about promotion and reward were based on the classic principles of relationships of patronage. This meant that certain information about the misconduct of French agents overseas was considered of secondary importance and that many decisions that were taken hardly seem rational in retrospect. This logic was well understood by many authors of memoranda, hence they tried to provide evidence of their eagerness and, above all, they held out the prospect of glory for the minister. The Madagascar discourse, which conveyed the notion of a new kind of glory in an enlightened age, was a suitable instrument for this purpose. Sixth, the French administration was in fact open to knowledge brought to it by outsiders. However, the dominant logic of patronage and hierarchical structures meant that the Madagascar expertise did not find its way to Versailles. The Ministers of the Navy never entrusted experts on Madagascar with the establishment of a colony nor did their writings ever reach the motherland. In contrast, the ministerial officials did pay attention to memoranda by people without any regional expertise. Seventh, the genre of the memorandum entailed a problem in that information was derived from writings which promoted a project. Eighth, under these circumstances, the establishment of an archive for memoranda by the Ministry of the Navy contributed decisively to the dissemination of the late Enlightenment knowledge about Madagascar. The archive made the memoranda accessible and made it possible to copy, and also refer to, memoranda by other authors. For this reason, the Madagascar discourse exhibited a high degree of self-referentiality.

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Ninth, changes in the epistemic setting of the colonial administration explain the fact that the French political elite of the Restoration period was able to abandon the late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar. The positive revaluation of expert knowledge, the role of a new scholarly society, the changed function of memoranda, the transformation of the archives and a different legitimisation of knowledge that led to the relinquishment of “philosophie” all contributed to the imperial elites’ abandoning the dream of Madagascar.

12 The Birth of Modern Colonialism? The Colonial Museum (Musée des colonies) in Paris opened its doors to visitors in 1931. As the centrepiece of the great colonial exhibition, the museum had a special representative function. The colonial world had been relatively discreetly represented in the Third Republic’s monuments policy. Now it was to be given a profile in Paris, and though on the outskirts of the city, it was in an imposing and richly decorated new building, the Palais de la Porte Dorée (Fig. 18). Even from a distance, the visitor catches sight of a mighty colonnade, framing a colossal bas-relief covering the entire façade and depicting the wealth of the colonies (Fig. 19). At the centre of the building is a 900 square metre hall whose walls are painted with colourful frescoes depicting French missionaries, doctors and engineers, dressed in white, who liberate the often half-naked natives of Africa and Asia from slavery and who baptise, teach and heal them, and bless them with technical progress (Figs. 20 and 21). The frescoes of the Palais de la Porte Dorée are a good example of the symbolism employed to legitimise colonial expansion in the Third Republic. The civilising mission was the ideological centrepiece of French colonialism during this period. Though this idea was found in various colonial empires, nowhere did it play as central a role as it did in the French empire.¹ The idea of a civilising mission was not new but dated back to the late Enlightenment. It first germinated in the writings of Maudave, the Governor of Fort-Dauphin, was closely linked to Enlightenment aspirations and went hand in hand with the formulation of new assimilationist colonial projects in relation to different regions of the world in the 1760s and 1770s. Enlightenment philosophes contributed decisively to the genesis and propagation of the idea of a civilising mission in general and the Madagascar discourse in particular. The notion that the Malagasy and other “barbarian” or “savage” peoples were destined to become civilised went together with the drafting of a new universal history which was closely linked to the idea of the progress of the “lumières”. The claim to be defending an enlightened philosophy ran through many of the texts that called for the colonisation of Madagascar. The idea of a civilising mission that emerged after 1763 is no doubt part of the history of the Enlightenment. This fact raises the question of the extent to which the modern colonialism that evolved in the Third Republic was a product of the Enlightenment. The latter  Conklin, Alice, A Mission to Civilize. The Republican Idea of Empire in France and West Africa, 1895 – 1930, Stanford 1997, 1. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-014

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Fig. 18: Palais de la Porte Dorée, Paris (present condition).

Fig. 19: The bas-relief of the façade of Palais de la Porte Dorée, Paris.

thesis suggests a postcolonial critique of the Enlightenment which ascribes an imperialist character to the “Enlightenment project”, as according to these au-

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thors, the Enlightenment aimed at destroying local and religious cultures and replacing them with supposedly rational and universal norms.²

Fig. 20 and Fig. 21: Frescoes in the great hall of Palais de la Porte Dorée, Paris.

Postcolonial Enlightenment critique thereby has undoubtedly drawn attention to numerous phenomena in the history of ideas of the eighteenth century that had no place in the prevailing Enlightenment narrative. Yet, this line of research concentrates on the work of intellectuals and only occasionally makes connections with political practice. Therefore, the thesis that the origins of modern colonialism are to be sought in the Enlightenment must be studied from the point of view of political history. Very much in contrast to what the postcolonial critique of the Enlightenment suggests, Saliha Belmessous has recently pointed to continuities between colonial political approaches in seventeenth century Canada and those in nineteenth century Algeria. Belmessous questions the periodisation of French colonial history commonly used in historiography and proposes that the First (early modern) and the Second (modern) Colonial Empire should not be viewed separately from each other. At the level of the colonial imaginary, the continuities prevail, not least because of the assimilation ideal of the French colonial elites. At the same time, Belmessous shows that the assimilation project was repeatedly abandoned and undermined by racist assumptions.³ The validity of the

 Gray, “After the new Liberalism”, 120 – 124; Ghachem, “Montesquieu in the Caribbean”, 7; Wokler, “Projecting the Enlightenment”; MacIntyre, After Virtue; Spivak, A Critique of Postcolonial Reason; Mehta, “Liberal Strategies of Exclusion”; Mehta, Liberalism and Empire.  Belmessous, Assimilation and Empire.

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continuity thesis must therefore be examined along with the thesis of an epochal rupture in the eighteenth century. In order to answer in the affirmative the question of whether modern colonialism can be traced back to the Enlightenment, it is not enough to point to the invention of the idea of a civilising mission in the eighteenth century and its propagandistic use during the Third Republic. Rather, three conditions must be fulfilled. First, the Late Enlightenment must show a significant colonial-policy turn beyond the case of Madagascar. Second, this turn must be accompanied by the invention of new approaches to colonial rule which substantiate a changed political practice. Third, these colonial policy concepts must largely dominate colonial history in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In the case of France in particular, there would have to be a continuity between the colonialism of the second half of the eighteenth century and that of the Third Republic. At least a cursory comparison of the colonial policy guidelines between the seventeenth and twentieth centuries is therefore necessary. This chapter aims to contribute to the examination of the thesis of an epochal rupture in the eighteenth century as well as the thesis of a continuity between the seventeenth and the twentieth century. To this end, it examines the case of Madagascar after 1763 in a longer time span and a larger geographical framework than has been done so far in this monograph. In the following, such a diachronic and diatopic comparison can only be outlined. First, it will be considered whether late Enlightenment ideas of a desirable expansion in Madagascar were part of a colonial political turn after the Seven Years War. After that, it must be asked how new the colonial political concepts of the time actually were. Finally examined will be the extent to which colonial policy in the modern era was shaped by the late Enlightenment colonial approach that was to be applied to Madagascar.

Changing Colonial Politics after the Seven Years War In the politics regarding Madagascar after 1763, the breakthrough of the assimilation ideal took place against the backdrop of a larger change in colonial policy. Maudave and his successors established the late Enlightenment discourse on Madagascar in a time of colonial political experimentation. As early as the late 1740s, Joseph-François Dupleix had begun to build a territorial empire in southern India. It was a decisive step towards a new kind of colonialism in Asia when the French India Company and its British counterpart took over entire

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indigenous political entities.⁴ At the same time, however, it should be noted that this policy of expansion remained very controversial. Dupleix was even recalled to France because of the costs generated by his aggressive course.⁵ Even his partisans legitimised his expansionist course only tentatively, and the arguments they advanced to justify the takeover of Indian territories, which they based on climate theory, differed markedly from late Enlightenment assimilationism.⁶ Their dominant defence pattern was to present expansion as an unplanned side-effect only of individual, politically astute decisions to protect French settlements from British aggression.⁷ Dupleix and his followers thus were far from propagating the idea of a civilising mission unlike the British and other colonial rulers in modern India.⁸ With the demolition of French forts in India after 1763, ambitious expansion plans on this subcontinent were no longer on the agenda anyway. At best, the French could only have the ambition to stop British expansion in alliance with local princes.⁹ That the development model of the plantation island came under increasing criticism after the Seven Years War was probably the greatest colonial policy innovation of the French colonial empire of this era. Initially, its being questioned had little to do with abolitionism, which only emerged in the 1770s and crystallised into a movement in the early 1780s. It was mainly due to the fact that colonial civil servants and ministry officials predicted an uncertain future for the Caribbean island colonies, not so much because they seriously contemplated a slave rebellion but rather because they considered the defence of the islands against the British to be a difficult, if not impossible, undertaking. Great Britain had conquered Guadeloupe in 1759 and Martinique three years later, and while the Versailles government had regained these islands in the Peace of Paris, its worries about the future of these possessions did not abate. As a consequence, fortification councils (conseils de fortifications) were established in the Lesser

 Haudrère, Philippe, La Compagnie française des Indes au XVIIIe siècle, Paris 2005, 713 – 773; Marshall, Peter James, “The British in Asia. Trade to Dominion, 1700 – 1765”, in: Mann, Michael (ed.), The Oxford History of the British Empire, vol. 2: The Eighteenth Century, Oxford 1998, 487– 508; Mann, Michael, Bengalen im Umbruch. Die Herausbildung des britischen Kolonialstaates 1754 – 1793, Stuttgart 2000.  Haudrère, La Compagnie française des Indes, 738 – 749.  Travers, Robert, “Ideology and British Expansion in Bengal, 1757– 72”, in: Journal of Imperial and Commonwealth History 33/1 (2005), 7– 27.  See Dupleix’s defence in Dupleix, Joseph François, Mémoire pour le Sieur Dupleix contre la Compagnie des Indes, avec les pièces justificatives, Paris 1759.  For imperial ideology in nineteenth-century India, see Studdert-Kennedy, Gerald, Providence and the Raj. Imperial Mission and Missionary Imperialism, Walnut Creek 1998.  Das, Myths and Realities.

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Antilles.¹⁰ The islands’ military elite argued about the sense or otherwise of various plans and construction works to improve the fortifications.¹¹ However, the military elite was under no illusions as not only was the British navy superior to the French, but it was too expensive to maintain large troop contingents in the Caribbean. The mortality rate among newly-arrived soldiers was alarmingly high¹² and moreover, there was not enough money to fortify the islands effectively. Thus, rugged terrain alone would pose an obstacle for the invaders. From the viewpoint of the authors of the memoranda, Guadeloupe, for example, could only be defended to a limited extent, because only the western half of the island, the Basse-Terre, and not the Grande-Terre, was mountainous.¹³ The situation in Saint-Domingue, France’s most important overseas possession, was even worse. Here, almost everywhere, the enemy could go ashore unchallenged. It was precisely the defence of the northern plain, the richest part of the colony, which the military experts judged to be hopeless. In the case of an enemy landing, only a retreat into the mountains, which would force the British to defend themselves against an exhausting small-scale war, might have an effect.¹⁴ In the eyes of the Ministry of the Navy, it was the role of the local militia to protect their homeland from the British, as the Caribbean colonies could hardly be defended by royal troops. But it was precisely this expectation that provoked new tensions because many Creoles vehemently resisted being taken into military service. In Guadeloupe, the obligation to perform military and labour services (corvées) provoked fierce protests. Because of this, during the Seven Years War, the governor Nadau du Treil came into conflict with several plantation owners, as they did not see why they should take up arms in addition to paying the new  ANOM, DFC, XI/mémoires/48, no. 219 bis 221; ANOM, DFC, VI/mémoires/28, no. 306.  ANOM, DFC, XXXIII/mémoires/1, no. 27, 31, 34, 36, 41, 42, 61, 62; XXXIII/mémoires/2, no. 73, 74, 76, 78, 80; XXXIII/mémoires/3, no. 112, 115, 118 bis, 197, 209; DFC, XI/mémoires/49, no. 330 and 337; ANOM, DFC, VI/mémoires/27, no. 195, 205 bis 207, 227, 235, 238; DFC, VI/mémoires/ 28, no. 367, 378; DFC, VI/mémoires/29, no. 390, 399, 413.  ANOM, DFC, XXXIII/mémoires/1, no. 47; XXXIII/mémoires/3, no. 103; DFC, XI/ mémoires/48, no. 272. The correspondence between the Vicomte de Belsunce, the Chevalier de Montreuil and Regnault reveals the concern for the poor health of the soldiers; see DFC, XXXIII/mémoires/1, no. 54. Given the impossibility of maintaining large French troop contingents, various projects were devised, including the recruitment of Swiss and Germans, the introduction of military service for free people of colour and the deportation of poachers and salt smugglers; see DFC, XXXIII/mémoires/1, no. 47; ibid., no. 54; ibid., no. 59.  ANOM, DFC, VI/mémoires/26, no. 140; DFC, VI/mémoires/27, no. 243; ibid., no. 282 and 283; ibid., no. 325; ibid., no. 335; DFC, VI/mémoires/29, no. 396.  ANOM, DFC, XXXIII/mémoires/1, no. 27; ibid., no. 34; ibid., no. 40 and 41; ibid., no. 59; ibid., no. 63 (especially p. 5); ibid., no. 76 (especially article 19); ibid., box 3, no. 114; ibid., no. 209; ibid., no. 262.

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taxes.¹⁵ After the war, Choiseul tried to satisfy the inhabitants of the Caribbean and in 1763, in exchange for the payment of new dues, abolished the militias.¹⁶ Only a year later, however, he endeavoured to revive the militias, even though the taxes had been paid.¹⁷ These measures were enforced in Guadeloupe in 1765¹⁸ but caused unrest in Saint-Domingue, partly because Governor CharlesHenri d’Estaing integrated into the “white” units men with one “eighth of black blood”. Despite opposition the militias were reintroduced in 1768. At the end of the year, an insurgence broke out on the island.¹⁹ Even though the rebels were unsuccessful, fear of discontent among settlers, which could be dangerous in times of war, remained very much alive in the government and administrative elite in the 1770s.²⁰ While the insurgents of Saint-Domingue saw in the compulsory militia and the growing tax burden a breach of contract between motherland and colony,²¹ the civil servants and military had a fundamentally different understanding of the relations between France and its overseas possessions. To them, the colonies were a creation of the mother country and consequently subordinate to the interests of France.²² In their eyes, the current conflicts resulted from the fact that the plantation owners had become corrupted by luxury. The settlers were not patriotically-minded because they were only interested in their own financial situation. They were also corrupted by slavery, were scrupulous about the superiority their skin colour gave them and refused to work. Indeed, they did not care

 ANOM, DFC, VI/mémoires/26, no. 121.  ANOM, DFC, XXXIII/mémoires/1, no. 48 and 49; ibid., no. 63 (p. 5 f). In 1765 the Ministry of the Navy advised Nolivos, the new Governor of Guadeloupe, to be gentle: DFC, VI/mémoires/26, no. 181; Garrigus, John D., Before Haiti. Race and Citizenship in French Saint-Domingue, New York 2006, 116 f.; Gelszus, Christian, Kolonisation und Kolonialpolitik auf Jamaika und St.-Domingue 1661 – 1783. Bedingungen, Entwicklungen, Auswirkungen, Hamburg 1999, 147 f.; Boulle, Pierre, The French Colonies and the Reform of their Administration During and Following the Seven Years’ War, Ann Arbor 1963; Chaussinand-Nogaret, Choiseul, 208 – 214.  Garrigus, Before Haiti, 117– 119.  ANOM, DFC, VI/mémoires/27, nos. 190 and 191.  ANOM, DFC, XXXIII/mémoires/1, no. 58, instructions for troops and militia, 1770; for protest against the new taxes, see ANOM, DFC, XI/mémoires/48, no. 280; Frostin, Charles, Les Révoltes blanches à Saint-Domingue aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles. Haïti avant 1789, Paris 1975, 181– 209; Garrigus, Before Haiti, 109 – 139; Gelszus, Kolonisation und Kolonialpolitik, 147– 161.  According to former governor Charles-Henri d’Estaing, military service in the militias ought to be voluntary due to potential unrest and the tax system reformed, see ANOM, DFC, XXXIII/ mémoires/1, no. 63.  Frostin, Les Révoltes blanches, 16 – 18; Garrigus, Before Haiti, 110 f.; Garrigus, “Moreau de Saint-Méry”.  Gelszus, Kolonisation und Kolonialpolitik, 93 – 100.

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whether they were ruled by the king of France or by the king of England, if they did not even favour British rule. While slaves could not be expected to work for France, colonial politicians could place little trust in plantation owners to whom they attested a lack of patriotic spirit.²³ Such ideas were not only shared by the royal officials of the Caribbean; they were common topoi in the public spheres of the Atlantic world. Even a slave owner like Thomas Jefferson believed that slavery had a perverting effect on the moral condition of the master.²⁴ Choiseul tried to create a new patriotism, an endeavour for which he relied on the talents of Enlightenment writers like Raynal.²⁵ This may partly explain why the criticism of self-serving colonists, corrupted by luxury and slavery, plays a central role in the History of the Two Indies. Raynal contrasted them with the good “republican” settlers who were hard-working and committed to the common good.²⁶ In so doing, he followed the ideal of small landowners cultivating their fields with their own hands, which the physiocrats in France advocated. This was precisely the current of thought that influenced colonial policy after the Seven Years War. Choiseul in 1763 had a new colony established according to the physiocratic model in Guyana in the region of Kourou, next to the old colony of Cayenne. He forbade slavery in this region and instead of Africans, it was Canadian and German immigrants who were to cultivate the soil themselves. Choiseul had 17,000 settlers brought to South America, but the experiment ended in an epidemiological catastrophe that cost thousands of lives.²⁷ The colonisation enterprise in Kourou is relevant to the history of expansion attempts in Madagascar for two reasons. First, the colonial policy contexts of both endeavours show parallels. Both in Guyana²⁸ and in Madagascar, replacement colonies were to be created to make up for the territorial losses of the Seven Years War. Guyana was to compensate France for Canada and Madagascar for

 ANOM, DFC, XXXIII/mémoires/1, no. 27, 40, 63 (p. 4– 8); DFC, XI/mémoires/49, no. 332, “Mémoire au sujet de la Martinique”, n.d.; DFC, VI/mémoires/28, no. 347, “Projet de réforme des milices”, n.d.; DFC, VI/mémoires/29, no. 405, “Mémoire sur l’administration générale de la Guadeloupe”, 1786.  Jefferson, Thomas, “Notes on the State of Virginia”, in: Eze, Emmanuel Chukwudi (ed.), Race and Enlightenment. A Reader, Cambridge 1997, 95 – 97.  Chaussinand-Nogaret, Choiseul, 87– 91, 124, 149 – 162, 309 – 314; Bancarel, Gilles, Raynal ou le Devoir de vérité, Paris 2004, 106 f., 113 – 144.  Pečar/Tricoire, Falsche Freunde, 129 – 152.  Godfroy-Tayart de Borms, Marion, Kourou, 1763. Le dernier rêve de l’Amérique française, Paris 2011.  Godfroy-Tayart de Borms, Kourou, 316.

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the French East Indies.²⁹ Île de France, according to Maudave, could be a bulwark but was too small to produce the food and soldiers needed for a strong French presence in the East Indies. Only Madagascar could form a power base beyond the Cape of Good Hope.³⁰ Second, in Kourou, slavery was outlawed for the first time in the French colonial empire. This happened not so much in the name of humanity and certainly not as part of a plan to abolish slavery in all overseas territories. The measure was much rather aimed at creating industrious and patriotically-minded small owners who would make the crafts flourish and be good soldiers.³¹ Exactly such ideas were behind the plans of Maudave, for whom the population of the Mascarenes had become “licentious” through slavery.³² Madagascar was to develop more “healthily” than its neighbours and also than the Caribbean islands, where a “body of people” (“un corps de peuple”) was lacking: There are only masters, who are everything, and slaves, who are nothing, so that the former only serve to benefit the motherland as consumers and the latter only as suppliers of food. The crafts do not develop because of a lack of free and skilful hands. There is a lack of resources for warfare: As one will find neither soldiers nor seamen in this kind of settlement.³³

For Maudave, Cossigny or indeed Lescallier, the Red Island was to be a second Saint-Domingue, only better because free of slaves.³⁴ The establishment of a new colony in Kourou was accompanied by innovations in colonial policy that, a few years later, were also to be implemented in Madagascar. At the same time, however, the physiocratic model of a settlement colony that was behind the Kourou project differed markedly from the plans for Anosy in that the indigenous population was largely absent from the deliberations of the governor

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 1, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767.  Ibid., fol. 1 f.  Godfroy-Tayart de Borms, Kourou, 69 – 80.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 27, fol. 1, anon., “Projet d’un établissement à Madagascar. 21 novembre 176[?]”: “tout le travail de cette colonie est dévolu aux esclaves ; sa population est vicieuse”.  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 40, p. 12, memorandum by Maudave, n.d.: “On n’y voit que des maitres qui sont tout et des esclaves qui ne sont rien ; aussi leur usage est-il borné a la consommation et à la fourniture respective de leurs denrées et de celles de la métropole. Les arts y languissent faute de mains libres et habiles pour les exercer. Nulle ressource pour la guerre et le commerce : car on ne trouvera dans ces sortes d’établissement des soldats et des matelots.”  ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15, Cossigny, “Mémoire sur la colonisation de Madagascar”, 7 April 1802.

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of the new Guyanese colony, the Chevalier de Turgot, a brother of Anne-Robert Turgot, the famous physiocratic economist and later Finance Minister.³⁵ Projects of a “soft” expansion through civilising and assimilation were not only formulated in relation to Madagascar. A few years after Maudave’s memoranda, imperial actors dreamed of a “Francisation” (an assimilation to the French nation) of the indigenous people of South America.³⁶ Around 1770 the idea of an expansion through civilising and assimilation spread rapidly in several empires, namely the French, Spanish, Portuguese and Russian empires.³⁷ In light of this fact, it seems legitimate to speak of a new epoch of colonial policy. Even in the British Empire where the idea of a civilising mission gained importance only relatively late, namely in the early nineteenth century, and where the ideal of assimilation never really took hold, a change in policy towards the natives can be observed. Although the colonial administrators in Canada decided to separate the inhabitants of European descent from the indigenous people, they tried to treat the latter more like subjects of the Crown and to integrate them into the state after 1763.³⁸ That the 1770s and 1780s were marked by increasing criticism of slavery and the slave trade also spurred publicists to forge new colonial expansion plans. Several French- and English-speaking authors began to think about alternatives to the plantation colony based on slavery. In this connection some conceived the idea that their fatherland should establish colonies in Africa. The scheme to establish plantations south of the Sahara was not entirely new as the Governor of Senegal, Louis Moreau de Chambonneaus, had already submitted this proposal in 1688.³⁹ However, this idea only gained relevance with the criticism of the Ca-

 Godfroy-Tayart de Borms, Kourou, 80.  ANOM, DFC, XII/mémoires/62, no. 207, “Considérations sur les malheurs de la France pour servir d’introduction à un essai sur Cayenne, par M. de Meuron”, 1774; ANOM, DFC, XII/mémoires/62, no. 218, Bessner, “Précis sur les Indiens, par M. de Besner”, 1774.  Weber, Barbaros; Vul’pius, “Vesternizacija Rossii”.  Sosin, Whitehall and Wilderness; White, The Middle Ground, 269 – 365; Calloway, Crown and Calumet; Craton, “Planters, Imperial Policy, and the Black Caribs”; Ray, “Indian Society”; Ahmed, “Orientalism and the Permanent Fix of War,” 167– 203; Bowen, Revenue and Reform; Stagl, “The Rule of Law”.  Steiner, Colbert’s Africa, 373. Michèle Duchet sees in Adanson’s Voyage au Sénégal one of the first pleas for the establishment of new colonies in Africa and for the civilisation of this continent. However, in this respect, this travel report is very cautious; see Duchet, Anthropologie et Histoire, 73; Adanson, Michel, Voyage au Sénégal. Présenté et annoté par Denis Reynaud et Jean Schmidt, Saint-Étienne 1996.

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ribbean development model, as a text by the physiocrat Dupont de Nemours from the year 1771 shows.⁴⁰ Other projects that testified to a rethinking of colonial policy issues by the French elites concerned territories in the Mediterranean such as Corsica. According to pre-modern theory, which declared latitude to be the decisive factor regarding climate, it ought to have been well possible to grow sugar cane in the warm regions of the Mediterranean.⁴¹ Based on such ideas, high-ranking politicians pinned their hopes on an agricultural development of this island that had been newly acquired by France. Vergennes, the Foreign Minister, thought of having cotton, tea and spices produced in Corsica,⁴² while in 1785, Calonne, the Finance Minister, established a colony for this purpose.⁴³ During the Revolution, Volney also tried to produce colonial crops on his Corsican estate which he christened “Little Indies” (Petites-Indes). ⁴⁴ In his “Chronological, Political and Historical Treatise on Corsica” (Essai chronologique, politique et historique sur l’isle de Corse), Ferrand Dupuy, who also wrote a memorandum on Madagascar, presented the island of Corsica as a future agricultural and commercial centre if France were to establish settlements there. “The Corsican”, according to Ferrand Dupuy, was still rough, unapproachable, sinister and bloodthirsty, but this was only as a result of foreign invasions. He was humane, gentle and compassionate towards the stranger who did not come to enslave him. If one brought him the knowledge of civilisation, he would be guided by reason and no longer by passions. The powerful French monarchy should protect “the Corsican” and make him a happy citizen.⁴⁵ Similar projects were also conceived in the 1780s with regard to Egypt which, moreover, had the particular advantage of being strategically located. In France, the land by the Nile aroused desires from the 1780s onwards. In his “Letters on

 Dupont de Nemours, “Observations sur l’esclavage des nègres”, 242. The British civil servant Maurice Morgann argues similarly to Dupont de Nemours; see Morgann, Maurice, A Plan for the Abolition of Slavery in the West Indies, London 1772, 25. On this topic see Røge, Économistes.  Debien, Gabriel/C. L. Lokke, L’Expédition d’Egypte et les projets de culture coloniale, Le Caire 1940, 337– 339; Bret, Patrice, “Des ‘Indes’ en Méditerrannée? L’utopie tropicale d’un jardinier des Lumières et la maîtrise agricole du territoire”, in: Revue française d’histoire d’Outre-mer 86 (322– 323) (1999), 65 – 89, 69 f.  Vergennes, Charles Gravier, comte de, Mémoire historique et politique sur la Louisiane, […] accompagné d’un précis de la vie de ce ministre, et suivi par d’autres mémoires sur l’Indostan, Saint-Domingue, la Corse et la Guyane, Paris 1802, 243 – 251.  Leclerc de Montlinot, Essai sur la transportation, 54– 56.  Volney, Constantin François, Œuvres complètes de Volney, comte et pair de France […], mises en ordres et précédées par la vie de l’auteur, 8 vols., Paris 1821, vol. 1, XVIII.  Ferrand Dupuy, Essai sur l’isle de Corse, especially the preface and 30 – 75.

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Egypt” (Lettres sur l’Égypte) of 1783, Claude-Etienne Savary described Egypt as a country ruined by the tyranny of the Beys. Savary claimed that through large irrigation projects, a civilised state like France could create a flourishing colonial agriculture. In his book “Voyage to Syria and Egypt” (Voyage en Syrie et en Égypte), published in 1787, the philosophe Constantin François Volney also called for the conquest of the land by the Nile. In his eyes, the Egyptian population was tired of oriental despotism and longed for a well-ordered state like France that would bring progress; the Egyptians were ready to rise up against the Beys and for the French.⁴⁶ The French invasion of Egypt, the largest colonial expansion attempt of the revolutionary period, was directly inspired by the publications of these philosophes. Talleyrand, the Foreign Minister who introduced the idea of making a French colony of the land by the Nile, had read Volney. His aim was to create a substitute for Saint-Domingue in the eastern Mediterranean. He and his circle were convinced that in future, France would be able to import all its colonial goods from Egypt.⁴⁷ Drawing on Volney’s paper, Talleyrand believed that the people of the Nile would rise against the Mamelukes and welcome the French with open arms. Thus, the idea of the compelling superiority of French civilisation played a role in the policy planning of the Directoir. General Bonaparte saw himself as the representative of a regenerated nation that would bring progress and freedom to the world. He considered the Ottoman Empire to be fossilised and doomed to collapse. On the ruins of this Empire, new nations like the Arabs, Greeks, Armenians and Egyptians would soon arise, and he would be their liberator.⁴⁸ Inspired by these assumptions, Bonaparte on his arrival in Alexandria found the resistance of the population to the invaders hard to understand.⁴⁹ The imaginary that formed the intellectual basis for the French invasion of Egypt thus also shares similarities with the utopian vision that authors of texts on Madagascar had developed, although one important difference cannot be overlooked. For Talleyrand and Bonaparte, an assimilation of the Egyptians was not on the agenda. To win over the population, the French presented themselves as the guardians of Islam instead. The last commander of the Army of the Orient, Jacques Menou, even converted to the Muslim religion. But the bizarre

 Laurens, Henry, Les Origines intellectuelles de l’expédition d’Égypte. L’orientalisme islamisant en France (1698 – 1798), Istanbul/Paris 1987; Laurens, Henry/Charles C. Gillispie/Jean-Cause Golvin/Claude Traunecker, Bonaparte. L’Expédition d’Égypte, 1798 – 1801, Paris 1989.  Debien/Lokke, L’Expédition d’Egypte, 337– 354.  Laurens et al., L’Expédition d’Égypte, 18 – 30; Laurens, Les Origines intellectuelles, 105 f.  Laurens et al., L’Expédition d’Égypte, 75 – 99.

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mixture of French revolutionary and Islamic rhetoric did little to convince the Egyptian elites. Far from pleasing them, as the French had hoped, the revolutionary verbal attacks against the Catholic Church shocked them deeply. To the Egyptian elites, the French revolutionaries seemed to be atheists.⁵⁰ The fact that in relation to Egypt, Corsica, South America, sub-Saharan Africa as well as Madagascar, the ideas of Enlightenment and progress gave rise to fantasies of the civilising and domination of vast territories and large populations and inspired actual attempts at expansion consequently speaks in favour of the thesis of postcolonial studies that the Enlightenment gave rise to modern colonialism. The French elites did not always go so far as to seek an assimilation of all these peoples. However, the idea of a colonial expansion guided by the authority that civilisation supposedly gave the French, ushered in a new era of colonial politics.

Old Approach, New Coat of Paint Nevertheless, the thesis that the Enlightenment invented modern colonialism and thus heralded a departure from pre-modern colonialism may be too schematic. The fact that the novelty of the civilising and assimilation approach after the Seven Years War must indeed be put into perspective supports Saliha Belmessous’ thesis of continuity. The programme of the civilising and assimilation of foreign peoples represented an innovation in colonial policy after 1763, yet it was by no means an invention of the eighteenth century. This has already been shown by the memoranda on Madagascar that have been examined: Maudave drew much of the inspiration for his colonisation plans from Flacourt’s work. Already in the mid-seventeenth century, Flacourt had declared the civilising of the Malagasy the goal of future French policy regarding the Great Island, and his expansion project had served as a basis for the colonisation attempt in Madagascar by the French East India Company founded under Colbert. Similar ideological explanations can be found in the semi-official paper on the founding of the Royal Trading Company, François Charpentier’s “Narrative of the Establishment of the French Company for the Trade with the East Indies” (Relation de l’establissement de la Compagnie françoise pour le commerce des le commerce des Indes Orientales) of 1665, which opens with the following words: “The French nation cannot remain confined in Europe. It must spread to the farthest reaches of

 Ibid., 90 – 99. For Menou, see ibid., 198 f., 277– 297.

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the world. Let the barbarians henceforth feel the gentleness of its rule, they shall civilise themselves after its example.”⁵¹ As early as the seventeenth century, the French claimed to be more highly developed than the Malagasy and in a position to educate them. This is evident in the dialogue between a Frenchman and a Malagasy which the trader François Cauche added to his travel report of 1651. The most important function of this “colloque” consists in conveying knowledge of the Malagasy language by means of an allegedly realistic conversation between two traders, one French, the other Malagasy. Yet at the same time, this conversation stages the European’s superiority as in it, the Malagasy expresses his admiration for the witty, industrious and inventive French. The Frenchman replies that the Malagasy has not seen anything yet. Soon, other Frenchmen would arrive who would build houses of stone and wood with big doors and make carpets from silk, wool and fur, beautiful shoes, hats and white cloth. Cauche’s Malagasy then comes to realise that he, too, should work harder and better, so as to enjoy such riches.⁵² In Canada in the seventeenth century, the royal administration had set itself the goal of “franciser” the natives, that is, to assimilate them. The Francisation policy implied several demands on the “naturels”. The “Indians” were to become Catholic, settled, industrious, well-behaved and French-speaking (even though a not inconsiderable part of the subjects of the Most Christian King did not speak this language). The Francisation policy thus had a utopian dimension. Its aim was not merely to turn the “savages” into Frenchmen, but even to make them better Frenchmen than those living in France. These early civilising and assimilation plans testified to a great confidence of the French in their moral strength. For this reason, the colonial administrators in New France, like Maudave later, welcomed marriage unions between the French and the “savages” as a civilising instrument.⁵³

 Charpentier, François, Relation de l’establissement de la Compagnie françoise pour le commerce des Indes Orientales, dédiée au Roy, Paris 1665, 1: “La nation Françoise ne peut estre renfermée dans l’enclos de l’Europe, il faut qu’elle s’estende jusqu’aux parties du monde les plus esloignées, il faut que les barbares esprouvent à l’avenir la douceur de sa domination, et se polissent à son exemple.”  [Cauche], Relations, 175 – 182.  Belmessous, Saliha, “Être français en Nouvelle-France. Identité française et identités coloniales aux XVIIe et XVIIIe siècles”, in: French Historical Studies 27/3 (2004), 507– 540, here 510 – 520; idem, Assimilation and Empire, 7. With racist undertones, see Stanley, George, “The Policy of ‘Francisation’ as Applied to Indians during the Ancient Regime”, in: Revue d’Histoire de l’Amérique française 3 (1949), 333 – 348. For the French perception of the natives of Canada and the policy towards them, also see Dickason, Olive Patricia, Le Mythe du Sauvage, Saint-Ni-

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The Francisation policy of the Grand Siècle, in turn, was based on sixteenthcentury ideas of history, both on the earliest stadial models of history as formulated by missionaries in the context of the Spanish expansion in the Americas, and on the new narrative of French national history invented in the Renaissance. The Dominican Bartolomé de Las Casas had laid the foundation for the former. To his mind, the “savages” of the Americas were similar to the ancestors of the Europeans and the Mediterranean peoples who, in ancient times, had been just as uncivilised. All human beings were rational and called by God to live in a state of civility. The Jesuit José de Acosta developed these ideas in the second half of the sixteenth century. In his opinion, the ancient Hebrews, Greeks and Romans had violated natural law just as the “Americans” were doing now. They were to be regarded rather like children, that is, as people who lived in a state that corresponded to the childhood of humanity. If the use of reason was taken as a yardstick, the “barbarian” peoples could be categorised into three levels. The first group (Chinese, Japanese, Indians) comprised “reasonable” nations which, although pagan, lived in a state of civility. The peoples at the second level lived “in republics” and had a formal cult, but they knew neither written laws nor philosophy. These included the pre-Columbian Mexicans and Peruvians. Acosta assigned to the third category those peoples who, according to him, lived like animals, had no reason and did not follow natural law. The first goal of missionary work was to bring all people to the same level of reason and civility. As Acosta put it, “First make them human and then make them Christian.”⁵⁴ The ideas of the stages of civilisation and of a policy of civilising that Spanish missionaries had invented had a major long-term influence on French colonial policy. Nevertheless, the Spanish and the French did not follow the same ap-

colas 1994/Paris 1995. For Maudave, see ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 28, fol. 2, memorandum by Maudave, 6 December 1767.  Acosta, José de, De natura novi orbis libri duo. Et De promulgatione evangelii apud barbaros sive De procuranda Indorum salute, libri sex, Coloniae Agrippinae 1596, 324 (De procuranda, book 3, chapter 19). For Acosta’s approach and influence, see Burgaleta, Acosta, 47– 50, 78 – 98; Elliott, The Old World and the New, 28 – 53; Berthiaume, Pierre, “L’héritage de José de Acosta”, in: Bernier, Marc André/Clorinda Donato/Hans-Jü rgen Lü sebrink (eds.), Jesuit Accounts of the Colonial Americas. Intercultural Transfers, Intellectual Disputes, and Textualities, Toronto 2014, 308 – 325. For the Jesuit strategy of accommodation, also see Reis Correia, Pedro Lage, “Alessandro Valignano’s Attitude Towards Jesuit and Franciscan Concepts of Evangelization in Japan (1587– 1597)”, in: Bulletin of Portuguese-Japanese Studies 2 (2001), 79 – 108; Hsia, A Jesuit in the Forbidden City; Flü chter, Antje, “Pater Pierre Martin – ein ‘Brahmane aus dem Norden’. Jesuitische Grenzgänger in Sü dindien um die Wende zum 18. Jahrhundert”, in: Zeitenblicke 11/ 1 (2012), URL: http://www.zeitenblicke.de/2012/1/Fluechter (last accessed September 4, 2015).

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proach in colonial policy in the seventeenth century. In the Americas, the Spanish state supported the establishment of so-called “reductions” which were strictly separated from the Spanish settlements. The Jesuits adhered to the principle that one should tolerate all cultural differences that were not detrimental either to religion or to the “natural destiny” of humankind to live in society. Consequently, their aim was not to make Spaniards out of the inhabitants of Mesoand South America. The Spanish Jesuits pursued a policy of civilising, but not one of assimilation. The Spanish laity were forbidden even to enter the reducciones. Their ideal was segregation to protect the Indians from the corrupting influence of the Spaniards.⁵⁵ In French Canada the situation was different. Although the Jesuits and Franciscans in New France were also afraid of the bad moral influence of the European settlers, they did not build closed “reductions” but, instead, villages near the French settlements. Segregation was not desired either under Champlain or under the Crown. On the contrary, in the seventeenth century, the royal officials aimed to mix the French and the Indians so as to civilise and assimilate the latter. Many Jesuits would have preferred to establish closed mission territories as in Spanish America, but this was denied to them.⁵⁶ Assimilation efforts seem to have been a specific feature of French colonial policy in the seventeenth century. This had more to do with the humanist project of a national history in the Renaissance than with the influence of the missionary orders. Ever since the time of humanists Guillaume Postel, Pierre de Ronsard, Jean Bodin or even François Hotman, the French elites were convinced that the French were descendants of the Gauls. This generally-accepted thesis had farreaching consequences for the national self-image. Their own ancestors were now no longer well-mannered Greeks from Troy but barbarians who had been colonised and civilised by the Romans. In the eyes of the early modern French elites, the French had reverted to barbarism with the collapse of the Roman Empire. Only gradually did they catch up again by imitating antiquity. While the intellectual, artistic and political elite sought to civilise their own country, there was now an opportunity overseas to apply a civilising programme to real “savages”.⁵⁷ To this end, the early modern French adopted ancient topoi to describe

 Burgaleta, Acosta, 45 – 50, 78 – 95.  Belmessous, Saliha, “Assimilation and Racialism in Seventeenth and Eighteenth-Century French Colonial Policy”, in: The American Historical Review 110/2 (2005), 322– 349, here 335; Abé, Tako, The Jesuit Mission to New France. A New Interpretation in the Light of the Earlier Jesuit Experience in Japan, Leiden 2011, 101– 111, 147– 161; Ballériaux, Missionary Strategies, 113 – 131.  Melzer, Sara E., Colonizer or Colonized. The Hidden Stories of Early Modern French Culture, Philadelphia 2012.

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the “barbarians”. Just as Caesar had described the ancient Gauls as a “resourceful people, very capable of imitation”,⁵⁸ the “barbarians” of the Americas or Madagascar were considered capable of adopting civilisation. Thus, the Kingdom of France could follow in the footsteps of Rome. Despite the effective power of this narrative throughout the early modern period, the programme of assimilating the “savages” of the Americas only prevailed for a few decades. As early as the late seventeenth century, the royal colonial government in Canada largely abandoned efforts to turn the “Indians” into Frenchmen and, around 1700, finally declared this policy dangerous. By this time, it was well understood by Canada’s administrative elite that the Francisation policy had been a failure. The assimilation policy had not transformed the “savages” into Catholic French-speaking peasants, while the coexistence of the French with the natives, from the point of view of the administrators of Canada, had created a hard-to-control class of “feral” men, the wood rangers (coureurs des bois), who married into “Indian” families and became acculturated. As a result, the Governor General Vaudreuil forbade mixed marriages in 1706, even though there was an acute shortage of European women in the west of the colony. Vaudreuil thought that “Indian” women transmitted their “bad blood” to their children. According to him, due to the pernicious influence of the climate, the American “savages” displayed physical differences that made them fickle, dishonest, deceitful and cruel. In the face of the failure of the assimilation policy, a racist discourse thus gained acceptance and consequently, “Francisation” was sought only in individual cases.⁵⁹ The history of approaches in colonial policy in Canada and Madagascar show temporal parallels. In the early modern period, few racial theoretical patterns of interpretation can be discerned in relation to the Malagasy. Nevertheless, in the late seventeenth century, the imperial actors also abandoned ambitious assimilation plans in the Indian Ocean. Henceforth, only small trading posts were to be established in Madagascar. The French of the first half of the eighteenth century dreamed of an expansion of global trade, the exploitation of natural resources and the creation of strong companies of commerce in “the Indies” rather than of territorial expansion and the civilising and assimilation of “savages” and “barbarians”.⁶⁰

 Caesar, Iulius C., Der gallische Krieg. Latein-Deutsch, ed. Otto Schönberger, Mü nchen/Zü rich 1990, 338: “summae genus sollertiae atque ad omnia imitanda et efficienda, quae a quoque traduntur, aptissimum” (book 7, section 22).  Belmessous, “Être français en Nouvelle-France”; Belmessous, “Assimilation and Racialism”.  Arnaud Orain, La Politique du merveilleux. Une autre histoire du système de Law (Paris: Fayard, 2018); Shovlin, John, “Commerce, not Conquest. Political Economic Thought in the French

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If one considers the rise and fall of the dreams of civilisation and assimilation in the seventeenth century, it is not so much the invention of a modern colonialism that can be seen during the late Enlightenment as the appropriation of an old approach to colonial politics. Nevertheless, there was an important difference between the idea of expansion through civilising and assimilation in the seventeenth century and the ideas of colonial expansion during the late Enlightenment: after 1763 the assimilation project was placed in the larger context of universal history. Thus, the Francisation projects became a chapter not only of national history but also of human history, which gave them normative force. For this reason, the authors of expansion plans for the Great Island regarded the victory of French civilisation as a historical necessity. It is no coincidence then that many of the formulations and basic ideas of the assimilation projects of the eighteenth century are reminiscent of the writings of Jesuit missionaries. Maudave’s principle that one should “first work to make [the Malagasy, D. T.] human beings and then, effortlessly, make them Christians” is an indirect quotation from Acosta’s treatise De procuranda Indorum salute, a work that, more than any other, provided a theoretical basis for the Jesuit missionary strategy.⁶¹ Although Maudave was probably not familiar with Acosta’s book, he had read Raynal’s History of the Two Indies which contains precisely this formulation.⁶² This reception of Acosta during the Enlightenment certainly originated in the fact that the stadial history of civilisation, which underpinned Maudave’s project, was itself based on Acosta’s placing of human societies at different stages of universal history. The deployment of missionaries also remained an integral part of many expansion plans in the eighteenth century, precisely because it was hoped that missionary work would have a civilising effect.⁶³ Moreover, the taboo on cultural hybridisation during the late Enlight-

Indies Company, 1719 – 1769”, in: Fredona, Robert/Sophus A. Reinert (eds.), New Perspectives on the History of Political Economy, Cham 2018, 171– 202.  To compare Maudave’s formulation with Acosta’s, see ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 3, transcripts of documents on Madagascar.  This formulation can also be found in the chapter on Paraguay in the History of the Two Indies, which may be taken as further evidence of its fame; see Raynal, Philosophical and Political History, vol. 4, 248.  For Maudave’s ideas on religion, see ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 11, fol. 3, transcripts of documents on Madagascar; DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 26, fol. 2 f., Maudave to Praslin, 28 April 1767. For other authors, see MAE, Asie 4, no. 76, fols. 192– 230, here 214, [Meunier], “Mémoire raisonné sur un nouvel établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar et les moyens motivés de la soumettre à la puissance du Roy. Par M. Duhamel comte de Precourt”, 1784; ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 150 207, anon., “Observations sur Madagascar”, n.d.

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enment strongly recalls Jesuit writings of the seventeenth century.⁶⁴ The reason for this is again to be found in the shared idea of a future progression of human societies towards civilisation (and, in the eyes of the Catholic missionaries, towards salvation). The Enlightenment utopia of non-violent colonial expansion, that is, the constitution of a new kind of empire which would win the hearts of the subjugated, was based on the Jesuit programme of the “spiritual conquest” (Conquista espiritual). Jesuits deliberately wanted to adopt the role of the ancient Romans, that is, the imperial masters who brought morality to the peoples. In their view, however, this conquest should now take place by “soft” means.⁶⁵ If Maudave advocated an expansion by “soft” means, he implicitly followed this model, as did the physiocrats. One major source of inspiration of late Enlightenment assimilationism lay in the many Enlightenment publications about the “Jesuit state” in Paraguay which, despite the otherwise virulent anti-Jesuit polemic, stylised it as a symbol of a “soft” and civilising colonial expansion. Again, Raynal’s History of the Two Indies was a prominent example of this trend.⁶⁶ The unacknowledged influence of the Jesuits on the late Enlightenment expansion projects explains why Maudave and his epigones eventually presented the Francisation policy inherited from the seventeenth century as a “mission” and thus invented the idea of the civilising mission. Actors in political and intellectual life who saw themselves as philosophes or friends of the philosophes thus transferred religious ideas to the field of state politics. Similar to the missionaries in the Americas, they held out the prospect of a peaceful colonial expansion.

 For the tabooing of cultural hybridity in Jesuit writings, see Melzer, Sara E., “The Role of Culture and Art in France’s Colonial Strategy of the Seventeenth Century”, in: Bernier, Marc André/ Clorinda Donato/Hans-Jü rgen Lü sebrink (eds.), Jesuit Accounts of the Colonial Americas. Intercultural Transfers, Intellectual Disputes, and Textualities, Toronto 2014, 169 – 185.  Imbruglia, Girolamo, “A Peculiar Idea of Empire. Missions and Missionaries of the Society of Jesus in Early Modern History”, in: Bernier, Marc André/Clorinda Donato/Hans-Jü rgen Lü sebrink (eds.), Jesuit Accounts of the Colonial Americas. Intercultural Transfers, Intellectual Disputes, and Textualities, Toronto 2014, 21– 49.  Grü nder, Horst, “Der ‘Jesuitenstaat’ in Paraguay. ‘Kirchlicher Kolonialismus’ oder ‘Entwicklungshilfe’ unter kolonialen Vorzeichen”, in: idem, Christliche Heilsbotschaft und weltliche Macht. Studien zum Verhältnis von Mission und Kolonialismus. Gesammelte Aufsätze, eds. Post, Franz-Joseph/Thomas Kü ster/Clemens Sorgenfrey, Mü nster 2004, 47– 67, 47 f.; Raynal, Philosophical and Political History, vol. 4, 246– 267. In Voltaire’s Candide, the criticism of the wealth and power of the Jesuits dominated, but this work in no way contradicted the idea of colonial expansion by soft means; see Voltaire, Candide ou l’Optimisme, ed. René Pomeau (The Complete Works of Voltaire, 48), Oxford 1980, 168 – 172. For the Jesuits in Paraguay, see Ganson, Barbara, The Guaraní under Spanish Rule in the Río de la Plata, Stanford 2003.

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In many respects, Maudave and his successors drew on older colonial political and missionary ideas.

Rupture in practice? The colonial-political rupture during the Late Enlightenment can be further relativised if one explores the practice of (aspired-to) colonial rule beyond the discourse of gentleness. The idea of a peaceful and civilising expansion did not prevent Commandant Beňovský from trying his hand as a conquistador. But also in Maudave’s case, it is doubtful whether his plans for a “soft” expansion really introduced a change in colonial policy. Thus, despite his announcements that he wanted to abolish the slave trade, Maudave continued to buy prisoners of war to have them sold on the Mascarenes,⁶⁷ and despite his emphasis on “softness”, he did not refrain from using force. The governor of Fort-Dauphin initially endeavoured to use the “soft” means of symbolic communication to induce the Malagasy to submit to French rule. But faced with a lack of success, he considered ever-new strategies that were less peaceful and honourable. Maudave increasingly blamed the lack of progress in the settlement on the “vices” of the Malagasy and pondered how they could be forced to work. Only a few days after his arrival on the Red Island at the beginning of September 1768, he observed that the “naturels” displayed an indolence (indolence) that could not be overcome by “soft” means. Thereupon he declared his intention to keep the Malagasy “in check by terror and to get them to work with the help of liquor.”⁶⁸ Thus, Maudave’s own statements about future terror indicate that for him, expansion by virtue of a civilising authority was only one strategy that could be revised if it proved ineffective. They also suggest that if he had had more soldiers at his disposal, he would have behaved much less peacefully after his first expectations were disappointed. His attempt to capture the Zafiraminia “Ramihongars”, for example, reminds one of Flacourt’s practice in the previous century.⁶⁹ Therefore, one can have reasonable doubts that Maudave’s theories made him much more peaceful than his predecessors. It probably had more to do with his military weakness than his gentleness that he resorted to less violent means against the “insolent” princes of the region than some of his predecessors and successors.

 Foury, “Maudave (2ème partie)”, 35 f.  ANOM, C 5 A 2, no. 66, fols. 2, 9, excerpts from Maudave’s diary: “Nous les contiendrons par la terreur et nous les exciterons par l’eau de vie.”  Flacourt, Histoire de la Grande Isle, 349.

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Finally, Maudave and the authors of memoranda had a tendency to present long-established practices as instruments of a new kind of “soft” policy. Maudave was in favour of permitting mixed marriages, seeing them as a lever for “gentle subjection”, even though such marriages were already common practice in Madagascar. He and his successors also presented the acquisition of Malagasy properties as a break with the policy of conquest.⁷⁰ In doing so, one author referred to the example of William Penn who had bought land from “Indians”.⁷¹ In the second half of the eighteenth century, this example was considered the epitome of good colonial practice. Raynal, for example, presented the creation of Pennsylvania as one of the greatest benefactions in the history of humankind.⁷² However, one may well ask whether the “acquisition” of Tôlanaro was a fundamentally different practice from the usual payment of tribute to the princes of the African coast.⁷³ Already in the first half of the seventeenth century, the French had obtained the right to build a fort in Anosy, the later Fort-Dauphin, through “gifts” to the Zafiraminia King Dian Ramach.⁷⁴ The allegedly new “enlightened” colonial practice was not as revolutionary as it wished to appear.

Assimilationism as a Colonial Ideology of the Modern Era? The chapter concludes by asking about the extent to which late Enlightenment assimilationism shaped French colonial policy in the modern era. In particular, the following section will tentatively discuss in how far there was a continuity between the Enlightenment period and the era of the Third Republic. Within the framework of this study, only individual aspects of this problem can be highlighted. However, even these cursory insights suffice to caution further against the thesis that the Enlightenment invented modern colonialism. As the case of Madagascar shows, it is hardly possible to claim that the assimilation policy of the Enlightenment period prevailed in the nineteenth century. From a legal-historical point of view, the assimilation policy did experience a breakthrough in 1794 when in connection with the first abolition of slavery in the French colonial empire, the National Convention declared that the same laws

 ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 34, fol. 10; ANOM, DFC, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81, fols. 3, 13, anonymous letter to the Minister of the Navy, 6 November 1786.  MAE, Asie 4, no. 74, fol. 2, “Mémoire pour un établissement à Madagascar”.  Raynal, Philosophical and Political History, vol. 9, 1– 14.  Brauner, Kompanien, Könige und caboceers, 247– 254, 31– 391.  [Cauche], Relations, 88 f.

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should apply in the colonies as applied in France. As a result, their inhabitants became French citizens. At the same time, however, new forms of bondage were introduced to keep the plantation economy going. The French elites saw a true assimilation of the former slaves only as a distant goal. This objective remained on the agenda during the Restoration period in the small remnants of the colonial empire. In the Restoration (i. e. after 1814– 1815) the “free people of colour” were treated as largely equal to “whites” in legal terms, and full equality followed in 1831. From 1848, with the second abolition of slavery, this assimilation policy affected the entire population of the small overseas territories.⁷⁵ Nevertheless, in the territories conquered in the nineteenth century, the French decision-makers pursued a different policy which was more reminiscent of the Madagascar plans of the Restoration period. There, the French state made a clear legal distinction between French citizens and indigenous peoples. The overwhelming majority of the population in the colonies thus consisted in effect of “subjects” who were largely ruled according to separate laws. The Muslims of Algeria, for example, were subject to Islamic law. The French administration established separate neighbourhoods and institutions for the Christian colonists. It favoured segregation. Most importantly, it expropriated many Algerians to give to French and European settlers the best agricultural land.⁷⁶ From the late nineteenth century onwards, the state also propagated racist theories. If the parliamentary commissions of the incipient Third Republic had proclaimed assimilationism in the 1880s, around 1900 the state elites largely rejected it. The conviction prevailed that the “principles of the Enlightenment” could only be fully applied in the case of a “white” population. The French administrators used the indigenous peoples for forced labour on a large scale. Especially in Africa, they legitimised this by saying that the “Negroes” had to be taught to be industrious. After World War I, a veritable policy of “racial segregation” was added when officials of the administration and politicians in official statements condemned sexual intercourse between “whites” and “blacks”. Instead of assimilating entire nations, the colonial ministry sought an “association” of indigenous elites of those peoples who were considered “rudimentarily civilised”. This policy of symbolic participation in power by some elites pertained especially to North Africa, Southeast Asia and Central Madagascar. On the Great Island, it meant that the French privileged the supposedly racially superior population of the highlands – the Merina and Betsileo – over the inhab-

 Bouche, Denise, Histoire de la colonisation française, vol. 2: Flux et reflux (1815 – 1962), Paris 1991, 100 – 108.  Stora, Benjamin, Histoire de l’Algérie coloniale (1830 – 1954), Paris 2004, 12– 39.

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itants of the coastal regions. But even such an “association” with the Merina and the Betsileo did not mean that they were accepted into the French nation. Before independence in 1960, only very few Malagasy were allowed to obtain French citizenship.⁷⁷ If one considers that the authors of the Late Enlightenment had propagated the idea of assimilating the Malagasy and generally advocated “mixed marriages”, modern colonialism does not seem to have been the realisation of their project. Instead, in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, one can observe a gradual departure from the ideal of assimilation. Most strikingly, patterns of interpretation based on race theory had been largely absent from the Enlightenment texts about Madagascar, even if in other colonial contexts, racist ideology was already firmly established in the eighteenth century. For example, the Caribbean elites in the eighteenth century pointed to the alleged racial inferiority of Africans to legitimise not only slavery but also discrimination against free people of colour.⁷⁸ After 1763 the monarchy gave in to these racist demands. To strengthen the ties between the colonies and the motherland, it increasingly curtailed the rights of free coloured people.⁷⁹ In the eighteenth century, racist theories flourished also in the motherland. Many Parisian philosophes actively participated in the development of various racist anthropological doctrines which they hotly debated, especially because of their religious implications.⁸⁰ Yet, all these innovations were not reflected in the plans for Madagascar; on the contrary, the Enlightenment projects of assimilation contrast sharply with the racist theories that ultimately shaped the modern era much more forcibly than the Late Enlightenment idea of a “soft” expansion.⁸¹

 Betts, Raymond, Assimilation and Association in French Colonial Theory, 1890 – 1914, New York 2004, especially 10 – 20; Conklin, A Mission to Civilize, especially 1– 9, 75 – 164; Bouche, Histoire de la colonisation française, vol. 2, 108 – 143; Manceron, Gilles, Marianne et les colonies. Une introduction à l’histoire colonial de la France, Paris 2003, 132– 210; Le Cour Grandmaison, Olivier, La République impériale. Politique et racisme d’État, Paris 2009, 109 – 177; Koerner, Francis, Madagascar. Colonisation française et nationalisme malgache, Paris 1994, 43 – 56, 177– 204.  Pluchon, Pierre, Nègres et Juifs au XVIIIe siècle. Le racisme au siècle des Lumières, Paris 1984; Boulle, “In Defense of Slavery”; Biondi, Carminella, Mon frère tu es mon esclave. Teorie schiaviste e dibattiti anthropologico-razziali nel settecento francese, Pisa 1973; Dorlin, Elsa, La Matrice de la race. Généalogie sexuelle et coloniale de la nation française, Paris 2006.  Garrigus, Before Haiti.  Pečar/Tricoire, Falsche Freunde, 83 – 104.  Neither did the polygenist Bory de Saint-Vincent use racial frames of interpretation in the Madagascar section of his travel report about the “four most important islands of the African seas”, see Saint-Vincent, Voyage (vol. 3), 268 – 274. For Bory’s racist theories, see Duvernay-Bolens, Jacqueline, “L’homme zoologique. Race et racisme chez les naturalistes de la première moitié du XIXe siècle”, in: L’Homme 133 (1995), 9 – 2.

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The diachronic and diatopic comparison between different French approaches to colonial policy from the seventeenth to the twentieth century shows that both the continuity thesis and the thesis of the invention of modern colonialism during the Enlightenment must be questioned. Arguing against the former is the fact that French colonial policy was characterised by clear ruptures. In the history of the French colonial empire, the policy of civilising and assimilation cannot be considered to have been a common thread. On the other hand, however, it is precisely these ruptures which show that the thesis according to which the Enlightenment initiated modern colonialism should also be treated with caution. To postulate that there was a coherent “modern colonialism”, and that this “modern colonialism” had its roots in the Enlightenment, is not convincing. The established narrative that declares the eighteenth century to be the founding era of “modernity” should not be followed. Instead, the colonial projects and enterprises for the Americas, Africa and Europe show that the decades from around 1760 to the early nineteenth century may be considered a distinct and clearly self-contained epoch of colonial history, namely that of “philosophical” colonialism.

Conclusion Not far from the sea in Mahavelona are the ruins of Fort Manda, a circular stone fortress built in the 1820s by the Merina King Radama I to control the harbour and collect customs duties (Fig. 22). Inside the fortification, there is a tree to which the local population and Malagasy tourists bring offerings for the founder of the Kingdom of Madagascar (Fig. 23). Here, the Merina army, Europeantrained and with modern equipment thanks to the alliance with the British, used to encamp for the night. The current keeper of the fortress, who claims to be a descendant of an officer of that army, likes to affirm that it was the “English” and not the French who should have colonised the Great Island. The history of Madagascar under Radama I seems to prove him right. While the French established a meagre colony on the small island of Nosy Boraha, British Protestant missionaries built schools in the capital Antananarivo. The British introduced a new brick architecture that still characterises the old town in the 21st century. They invented the rendering of the Malagasy language using the Latin alphabet that is valid to this day. As a result of an alliance with the king from the highlands, the British gained influence in Madagascar for some time, even though Radama’s wife and successor, Queen Ranavalona I, soon changed course and vigorously asserted the kingdom’s independence of European powers.¹ Despite this later change of course, the British strategy of influencing a Malagasy ally was much more successful than the eighteenth-century French policy of colonising the country and the subjection, civilising and assimilation of its inhabitants. The history of the failure of the French in Madagascar prompts the questioning of three established images: the image of Europeans (especially the French) asserting their rule overseas in the early modern period; the image of the Enlightenment as a turn towards empiricism, a departure from religious worldviews and a founding moment of modern colonialism; and the image of efficient French rule from a distance, in which knowledge production and imperial expansion were mutually supportive. At the height of the Second French Colonial Empire, many historians and publicists believed that the French had a “génie colonial”, that is, a special ability to communicate with indigenous peoples and lead them to civilisation.² In

 Randrianja/Ellis, Madagascar, 123 – 152.  Havard, Gilles, “L’Historiographie de la Nouvelle-France en France au XXe siècle. Nostalgie, oubli, renouveau”, in: De Québec à l’Amérique française. Histoire et mémoire. Textes choisis du deuxième colloque de la commission franco-québecquoise sur les lieux de mémoires communs, https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-015

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their eyes, Maudave’s principles had been correct; it was only their implementation that left much to be desired. According to this interpretation, the failure of the French on the Great Island in the eighteenth century was mainly due to the fact that Île de France had not provided the governor of Fort-Dauphin with the necessary means because it feared being eclipsed by the new colony. Moreover, the tyrannical behaviour of some individuals in Anosy or on Nosy Boraha had turned the Malagasy against the French, which implies that the Malagasy would not have resisted French rule if the French had behaved in a friendly manner. Both interpretations are based on texts from the Enlightenment period. The former follows Maudave’s accusations against his superiors, while the latter follows the accusations against the India Company by those authors who advocated the colonisation of Madagascar after 1763.

Fig. 22: Fort Manda in Mahavelona.

One of the aims of this study was to question these theses. The failure of the French in Madagascar was due to a number of factors, all of which, however, had to do with the serious misjudgements of the colonial planners. It was first and foremost an intellectual failure. The problem was that the project of colonising Madagascar as such was based on a series of mistaken assumptions. The

Laval 2006, 95 – 118, 97– 102; Séverin, Lucien, “Mythes et réalités de la Martinique catholique à la fin de la période coloniale”, in: Cahiers d’histoire 32/2 (2013), 135– 154.

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French expectations, far removed from reality, were based on images that made the Great Island seem more attractive than it actually was and led the French to overestimate greatly their own strength. The project of colonising the Red Island was also built on unrealistic expectations of future agricultural and industrial products. The influence of their colonialist imaginary made the French overestimate both their military strength and the attractiveness of their trade, while they failed to acknowledge the extent of the epidemiological problem because of the medical theories of the time. Not only did environmental conditions make a settlement by Europeans impossible, but the French proved unable to establish their authority. The same pattern repeated itself from the 1640s to 1670s in Anosy, in the 1750s on Nosy Boraha, around 1770 in Anosy, between 1773 and 1776 in the Bay of Antongil and in the late 1820s on the east coast when local princes, who were under pressure from a more powerful king, sought an alliance with the French and won them as partners. While many Malagasy princes welcomed the French as trading partners, the most powerful ones refused to accept their military presence. Throughout the early modern period, Southeast Asian-Islamic social organisation and ideas remained predominant on the Malagasy east coast, and in this world, French officials did not succeed in finding a place because their dreams were inspired by a wholly different imaginary. It is striking that a French official like Maudave did not even understand the need for a political strategy, because he believed that, as a “civilised” man, he could treat all “barbarians” according to the same pattern. The result of all the attempts at expansion was disastrous. While some regions were literally devastated, France did not even succeed in establishing small settlements that would have lasted. Many thousands of men died, and the local population and the colonists were starving. In 1811 France had to give up her last military base, and by 1818, only the ruins of a fort bore witness to the former dreams of expansion. Meanwhile, King Radama I had fortresses constructed on the coast that were far more impressive than anything the French had ever managed to build in Madagascar. Despite colonial aspirations, the history of French-Malagasy encounters of the early modern period was not a colonial history. French actors could only be successful on the Great Island if they integrated into local societies as migrants and adapted their behaviour to Malagasy norms. Only as husbands of Malagasy women could they trade, and only as Malagasy warlords were they able to enslave people. To do this, they had to adopt Malagasy social roles, present gifts to their Malagasy family and fight the enemies of their Malagasy prince. La Case and La Bigorne had impressive careers as French-Malagasy actors, while Diard briefly seized power in Mahavelona. It was the ability to move between the worlds that could bring success. La Bigorne, for example, initiated a collabora-

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Fig. 23: Offerings at Fort Manda.

tion between Malagasy nobles and the governor of Île de France, who could thus enrich himself in the slave trade and, by appointing his client Betia, a daughter of a prince of the Betsimisaraka, gain influence on the east coast.

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However, Malagasy social roles could hardly be reconciled with the goal of establishing colonial rule. The integration of French officials into the noble societies of the east coast, which took place at the very beginning of the French-Malagasy encounter, led to internal French conflicts. France’s official Madagascar policy did not aim at indirect rule. The high French officials in Madagascar in the eighteenth century did not seek integration into Malagasy society. On the contrary, Maudave, Beňovský and Lescallier were guided by the idea that the French, under their leadership, would not only civilise but also assimilate the Malagasy. The causes for this overestimation of their own attractiveness were at least in part to be found in the Enlightenment. The Madagascar discourse was the work of men like Maudave, Cossigny and Legentil, who distinguished themselves as philosophes in the Indian Ocean. Under the auspices of a new universal history, they embraced assimilationist ideas from the seventeenth century. Because the Enlightenment was associated with the adoption of religious-missionary patterns of interpretation by secular actors, the scenarios of civilising and assimilation became firmly established in the new history of humanity. Not even the sobering experiences of the French in Madagascar could shake their plausibility. Political actors on the Great Island also made use of prominent eighteenth-century literary models when they based their narrative and interpretative patterns on Voltaire’s irony, Montesquieu’s gesture of unmasking in the Persian Letters, or the masculine creative power of the heroes of Robinsonades. These borrowings entailed a lack of separation between literature and reporting. The promotion of the Enlightenment by the political elite in Versailles and Paris favoured the establishment of a Madagascar dream. The assimilation projects offered the political actors the opportunity to present themselves and their patrons as enlightened and provided a major impetus for court personages and revolutionary politicians to support them. Philosophes, who were clients of colonial politicians, promoted the Madagascar discourse. The Enlightenment rhetoric fitted into the logic of courtly communication; it functioned in relationships of patronage by holding out the prospect of fame. With recourse to the genre of the memorandum and to Enlightenment ideas, adventurers tried to gain support for colonisation projects in Madagascar. All these people contributed to establishing a Madagascar discourse which was self-referential. The knowledge of the Great Island that had emerged in the late Enlightenment was “philosophical”. It hardly distinguished between empiricism and ethics and unfolded preferably in memoranda, a genre that mixed the description of what existed with future planning. The fact that this knowledge was supposed to be not only “true” but also “good” complicated the learning process of the ministries and imperial actors. The difficult experiences of the French on the ground did not fundamentally question the project of colonial expansion. Moreover, the

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new knowledge was accompanied by a new kind of silencing. Because Malagasy were not constructed as Other, but as proto-French, the texts of the late eighteenth century were silent about experiences of violence, cultural hybridisation and Malagasy worldviews. The history of Madagascar knowledge and Madagascar policy also invites us to take a much more pessimistic view of knowledge production by the French administration than is usually the case in scholarly literature. The knowledge produced by the “colonial machine” was clearly only partially useful for colonial expansion. In fact, under the conditions of rule from a distance, there was a fundamental problem with the management of information. The emphasis on globalisation in scholarship today should not let us forget that for early modern people, the world was much bigger. The Ministry of the Navy was a realm largely separated from the Indian Ocean, and the ministers and their employees only had access to images of Madagascar that were far removed from local realities and cultures. The actors who worked for the French state on the Great Island and reported on it were not selected for their special knowledge, while experts had little access to the Ministry of the Navy. The commandants of Madagascar acted as a filter for the information that finally reached Versailles. They could manipulate information for their own ends and even freely invent facts. Actors such as Lescallier who were on friendly terms with the respective minister set the tone for the Madagascar policy, even though they had hardly seen the Great Island and had no information whatsoever on its current state. The media, which the Ministry of the Navy used to gather information, could not counteract these systemic errors. In some ways, they even favoured the emergence of the colonial dream because they did not distinguish between information and propaganda. Under these conditions, the establishment of an archive for maps and memoranda, which served as a documentation centre on the extra-European world, intensified the effect of the Enlightenment imaginary. This meant that the minister and his employees were even able to develop projects for settlements that never existed or had been destroyed. The case of the Madagascar policy points to the fact that locating the beginning of modern colonialism in the age of Enlightenment is problematic. The late Enlightenment Madagascar dream experienced a decline during the Restoration period. Already during the Revolution, there was a pluralisation of colonisation approaches regarding the Great Island, which was caused by the influence of British colonial concepts. Especially the idea of a penal colony gained acceptance as one of the guiding principles of the Madagascar policy. After 1815 the French elites largely abandoned their assimilationism. During the Restoration, the Ministry of the Navy developed new ways of learning, and these made it more receptive to empirical knowledge. It distinguished more clearly between in-

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formation and promotion of a project; memoranda were now hardly ever used to obtain information; advice was sought from men who knew Madagascar well; specialised knowledge was in demand and several experts were mobilised to obtain the necessary information. The authors of reports on Madagascar clearly distinguished between their activity and philosophie. These fundamental changes in the production of imperial knowledge and the confrontation of the French with the Merina, who since the 1810s were expanding their territory to the east coast of Madagascar, led the failed colonial rulers to withdraw to Nosy Boraha. The colonisation project for this small island was based on the massive import of slaves and the expulsion of the local population, which recalls the plans of the India Company around 1750 rather than the late Enlightenment soft expansion project of Maudave, Cossigny or Lescallier. The way the French colonial empire was organised, the conditions of knowledge production in the French administration, and the imaginary of the Enlightenment had interacted with each other from 1767 to 1817 to usher in a new epoch in colonial politics characterised by fantasies of civilising and assimilation. Madagascar and the philosophes of Île de France, above all Maudave, played a major role in the development of new colonial-political ideas and expectations, thus proving the importance of the colonial Enlightenment which had been underestimated for a long time. They developed the idea of a civilising mission by adopting Jesuit ideas of a “spiritual conquest”. The new expectations of an expanded domination by virtue of a civilising authority and the republican critique of slave plantation colonies opened up new perspectives for expansion, which led in part to attempts at colonisation and to military campaigns. At the same time, however, this new colonial policy seems like the return of an old French imaginary, namely that of the early years of the reign of Louis XIV which had declared as a programme the “Francisation” of the natives; nor should the new era of colonial policy after 1763 be confused with modern colonialism. In the newly-established colonies of the nineteenth and twentieth century, French politicians generally bade farewell to the dream of assimilation. France continued to see itself as a civilising force, but when she did rule over foreign peoples, the French drew a clear and impermeable line between themselves and others. In the frescoes of the Palais de la Porte Dorée, the French are clad in white, while the indigenous are half-naked.

Appendix List of Handwritten Memoranda on Madagascar (1769 – 1819) This list contains only memoranda (no letters or reports) that people, who were employed neither in the Central Administration nor the Colonial Administration in the Indian Ocean, sent to the naval and foreign ministries. Consequently, it does not contain the writings of Maudave, Beňovský, Valgny, the inspectors, La Pérouse, the governors and intendants of Île de France, or of the clerks of the ministries. The reports on the expeditions of the late 1810s have also been excluded from this list.

[Ancien Régime, second half of the eighteenth century.] N.d. Title: “Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [Ancien Régime, second half of the eighteenth century.] N.d. Title page missing. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [Ancien Régime, second half of the eighteenth century.] N.d. Untitled. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [Ancien Régime, second half of the eighteenth century.] N.d. Title: “Note sur le commerce de Madagascar”. Anon. [François Charpentier de Cossigny?]. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/ 88, no. 25. 10 December 1769. Title: “Observations favorables sur le Fort-Dauphin en tant qu’établissement”. Anon. [Louis Laurent Fayd’herbe, comte de Maudave?]. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 44. [1771 – 1789] N.d. Title: “Note sur les avantages d’un établissement à Fort-Dauphin et sur la marche à suivre pour tirer parti du pays”. Anon. Exemplar: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 222. 21 December 1772. Title: “Mémoire sur l’établissement français à Madagascar”. Anon. [François Charpentier de Cossigny]. Exemplar: MAE, Asie 4. [1770s or 1780s?] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur un établissement à Madagascar”. Author: François Charpentier de Cossigny. Copies: MAE, Asie 4, no. 3.; ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 14; ANOM, MAD 150 207. 1 Januar 1773. Title: “Mémoire où l’on propose un établissement à Madagascar et où l’on s’attache à en prouver l’importance”. Author: François Charpentier de Cossigny. Copies: ANOM, C 5 A 3, no. 87; ANOM, MAD 150 207, no. 41. [1773 – 1776.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur Madagascar”. Author: Chevillard de Montesson. Copy: ANOM. C 5 A 3, no. 14. [1774 – 1776.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 244. [1774 – 1776.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur Madagascar, déconseillant expressément d’y maintenir un établissement”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 245. [1774 – 1776.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur les établissements successifs fondés à Madagascar et considerations pessimistes sur la possibilité d’en fonder un durable et profitable”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 248. [1774 – 1776.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1774 – 1789.] N.d. Title: “Plan et dévelopement des moyens qui doivent assurer la solidité de l’établissement proposé à Madagascar avec les détails des avantages immenses que la France retirera de cette colonie”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-016

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[1775 – 1777.] N.d. Title: “Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1775 – 1776.] N.d. Title: “Établissement français à Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 4, no. 6. 1775. Title: “Projet de Millon d’un établissement françois à Madagascar”. Author: François Millon des Marquets. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 61. [1775?] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar”. Author: François Millon des Marquets. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1775?] N.d. Title: “Réflexions sur le projet de Millon”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 51. June 1775. Title: “Mémoire sur Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 53. [1776?]. N.d. Title: “Mémoire de Mayeur à Bellecombe, pour lui faire connaître le caractère et les mœurs des habitants ainsi que l’insalubrité du climat de l’île”. Author: Nicolas Mayeur. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 7, no. 80 and 80 bis. [C.1776?] N.d. Title: “Mémoire de Kerguelen sur l’île de Madagascar”. Author: Yves-Joseph Kerguelen de Trémarec. Copy: BnF, NAF 9413, folio 271 – 273. [C.1776?] N.d. Title: “Note résumant le rapport de M. de Kerguélen sur Madagascar : on y démontre les avantages d’un établissement à Madagascar et l’inutilité de la colonie de l’île de France, onéreuse et incapable d’apporter du secours aux établissements de l’Inde”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 5, no. 5. [1776 – 1789.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 247. [1777 – 1789.] N.d. Title: “Observations sur Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1776 – 1783.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire politique et historique sur l’île de Madagascar, sa description et ses productions en tous genres, mœurs, caractère de ses insulaires, avec une assertion sur l’origine et la décadence de la compagnie des Indes, ses révolutions jusqu’à ce jour : enfin moyen de la relever avec plus d’éclat sous une autre forme pour la rendre fructueuse a l’état et rétablir la predominance de la nation dans l’île”. Author: Louis Ferrand-Dupuy. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1776 – 1783.] N.d. Title: “Réflexion sur le commerce de l‘Inde”. Anyn. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. 9 April 1777. Title: “Renseignements fournis au chev. de la Serre par le sieur Deschamps sur la côte orientale de Madagascar”. Author: Deschamps. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 4. [1780s?] N.d. Title: “Note sur la tentative d’établissement faite en 1733 à la baie d’Antongil”. Anon. [chevalier de La Serre?]. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 74. [C.1777.] N.d. Title: “À Monsieur D… seul s’il lui plait. Analise en bref sur les mémoires de M. le chevalier de L. S.” Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [C.1778?] N.d. Title: “Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1780s?] N.d. Title: “Observations sur le projet d’établissement à Madagascar”. Author: François Charpentier de Cossigny. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207; MAE, Asie 4, no. 4. [C.1780.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: MAE, Asie 4, no. 73. [1780.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1780 – 1789.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire intéressant sur l’île de Madagascar où l’on développe les avantages immenses de profit et de gloire que la France pourrait en retirer et où on donne un apperçu des moyens qui doivent en assurer le succès”. Author: “un gentilhomme breton” [François Jacques Veller de Kersalaü n?].

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[1780s?] N.d. Title: “Examen des raisons qui peuvent fixer le choix d’un lieu d’établissement sur la côte orientale de Madagascar. Avec copie d’une description de l’Île de Madagascar et des mœurs de ses habitants”. Author: Heraut [?] de Rennefort. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 71. [1780s?] N.d. Title: “Observations sur le mémoire remis par ordre de Mgr. le Comte d’Artoix”. Anon. Exemplar: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1780s?] N.d. Title: “Isle de Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1779 – 1789.] N.d. Title: “Mémoire pour un établissement à Madagascar”. Anon. [François Charpentier de Cossigny?]. Copies: MAE, Asie 4, no. 74. [1781 – 1787.] N.d. Title: “Madagascar”. Author: Jacques Louis Henri de Liniers. Copy: MAE, Asie 4, no. 75. [1780s?] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur un établissemnet aux Isles de Madagascar, d’Anjouan, l’une des isles Comorres”. Anon. [Jacques Louis Henri de Liniers]. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. 16 August 1783. Title: “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar pour y établir une colonie et un commerce utile à la France 1783 à 1784, dans diverses parties de l’Inde”. Pierre François Roze. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 182. [1780s] N.d. Title: “Observations de M. Rose sur le mémoire de M. le chevalier de la Serre sur l’établissement de l’île de Madagascar”. Author: Pierre François Roze. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. January 1784. Title: “Mémoire du sieur Siette de la Rousselière, lieutenant a l’île de France, au maréchal de Castries, sur un projet d’établissement à Madagascar”. Author: Siette de la Rousselière. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 187 and 187 bis (2 pieces). [1784.] N.d. Title: “Observations sur Madagascar et sur les possibilités d’y fonder un établissement”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 196. 13 September 1784. Title: “Projet de M. de Laborie sur Madagascar”. Author: Jean-ZénonAndré de Véron de La Borie. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 191 and 191 bis. 1784. Title: “Mémoire raisonné sur un nouvel établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar et les moyens motivés de la soumettre à la puissance du Roy. Par M. Duhamel comte de Precourt, colonel d’infanterie”. Author: Jean-Baptiste Meusnier. Copies: MAE, Asie 4, no. 76; ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 195. [1784?] N.d. Title: “Observations sur un nouveau plan d’établissement dans l’isle de Madagascar, par M. Duhamel Comte de Précourt colonel d’infanterie et ancien officier de la Compagnie des Indes demeurant en sa maison à Vineuil parc de Chantilly”. Author: Jean-Baptiste Meusnier. Exemplar: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 81. [1784?] N.d. Title: “Moyens d’exécuter le projet d’établissement de Mr. Duhamel de Precourt à Madagascar, avec un projet d’offensif [sic!] contre nos ennemis dans l’Inde”. Author: Jean-Baptiste Meusnier. Copy: ANOM, XVII/ mémoires/88, no. 82. [End of 1785.] Title: “Réponses à un questionnaire sur les ressources et les habitants de Madagascar, questionnaire de sept questions posées par le contrôleur général le 11 novembre 1785”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 8 bis, no. 227. 1785. Title: “Mémoire”. Anon. [chevalier de La Serre]. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 84. [1780s?] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur Madagascar contenant les motifs déterminants d’y former un établissement, et la manière economique d’y procéder”. Author: chevalier de La Serre. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207.

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[1780s?] “12 octobre” [no year given]. Title: “Mémoire sur l’isle Madagascar”. Anon. [chevalier de La Serre]. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. [1786 – 1787.] N.d. Title: “Monsieur de Kersalaü n propose un projet d’établissement à Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 87. [1786 – 1787.] N.d. Title: “Observations sur les réflexions que le Monseigneur le maréchal de Castries fit l’autre jour à M. le le comte de Kersalaü n sur le projet d’établissement à Madagascar qu’il eut l’honneur de vous présenter”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/ 88, no. 89. 9 February 1787. Title: “Réflexions politiques sur l’établissement de Madagascar proposé par M. de Kersalaü n”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/ 88, no. 93. 1789. Title: “Détail des moyens propres à former avec succès l’établissement proposé à Madagascar”. Author: François Jacques Veller de Kersalaü n. Copy: MAE, Indes orientales 19, no. 134. [1789.] N.d. Title: “Idée par simple approximation de ce que coûtera une première expedition à Madagascar pour y former des établissements de culture. Par le chevalier de la Serre”. Author: Jean-François, chevalier de La Serre. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 59 and 59 bis. [C.1789?] N.d. Title: “Mémoire sur Madagascar contenant les motifs déterminants d’y former un établissement, par le chevalier de la Serre”. Author: Jean-François, chevalier de La Serre. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 60 to 60 quinques. [1789?] N.d. Title: “Moïen [sic!] de former les établissements projetés à Madagascar”. Author: Jean-François, chevalier de La Serre. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 61. [1789?] N.d. Title: “Résumé général sur le projet d’un établissement à Madagascar”. Author: Jean-François, chevalier de La Serre. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 63. [C.1789?] N.d. Title: “ Résumé général sur le projet d’un établissement à Madagascar”. Author: Jean-François, chevalier de La Serre. Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 69. [C.1789?] N.d. Title: “Vues générales d’administration sur l’établissement projeté à Madagascar”. Author: Jean-François, chevalier de La Serre. Copies: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 68 and 68 bis; ANOM, MAD 150 207. [C.1789?] N.d. Title: “Observations du capitaine Trevau sur l’établissement projeté par le chevalier de la Serre”. Author: Trevau (capitaine). Copy: ANOM, C 5 A 9, no. 70 and 70 bis. 28 Oktober 1792. Title: “Mémoire intéressant l’île de Madagascar”. Author: Yves-Joseph Kerguelen de Trémarec. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 95. [1790s.] N.d. No title (it only says “C[itoy]en De Vaivres, 23 Novembre”). Author: Launay. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. 1794. Title: “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 96. 1796. Title: “Mémoire du C[itoy]en Lassale sur Madagascar”. Author: Jacques Lasalle. Copy: ANOM, XVII/mémoires/88, no. 97. [Um 1800 – 1801.] N.d. Title: “Vues politiques sur l’île de Madagascar”. Author: “P. D. Lehericy [Le Héricy?], du Calvados”. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. 1801. Title: “Mémoire sur l’île de Madagascar et le commerce des Indes orientales. Présenté au ministre de la marine le 20 messidor an IX par Roze”. Author: Pierre François Roze. Copy: ANOM, MAD 7 15.

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1802. Title: “Mémoire sur la colonisation de Madagascar”. Author: François Charpentier de Cossigny. Copy: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15. 27 March 1803. “Mémoire sur Madagascar, par Siette la Rousselière, daté du Port NordOuest (Île de France) le 6 germinal an XI”. Author: Siette la Rousselière. Copy: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15. [1810s.] N.d. Title: “Madagascar”. Author: Jean-Jacques Bacon de La Chevalerie. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. April 1812. “Extrait d’un mémoire intitulé ‘Apperçu sur les colonies’, par M. Ardant, maître des requêtes, communiqué dans le département de l’interieur en avril 1812”. Author: Ardant. Copy: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15. 2 June 1814. “Madagascar”. Author: Schmaltz. Copy: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15. [After 1815.] N.d. Title: “Note sur Madagascar”. Anon. Copy: ANOM, MAD 150 207. Mai 1817. “Mémoire sur un projet d’établissement à Madagascar”. Author: Forestier. Copy: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 7 15. 1819. “Note pour l’expédition de Madagascar”. Author: Forestier. Exemplar: ANOM, Séries géographiques, MAD 6 14.

Abbreviations ANOM BnF DFC MAE MHN

Archives nationales d’Outre-mer Bibliothèque nationale de France Dépôt des fortifications des colonies Ministère des affaires étrangères Muséum national d’histoire naturelle

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-017

Illustrations Fig. 1: Fig. 2:

Map of Madagascar with the most important places for this monograph “Picturesque France: Port Louis on the island of Sainte-Marie; view of the old monument commemorating the taking [of the island, D. T.]” Fig. 3: Fanjahira, the residence of the king of Anosy, in a seventeenth century engraving (from Flacourt, Étienne de, Histoire de Grande Isle de Madagascar, Paris 1658) Fig. 4: Fort-Dauphin in the middle of the seventeenth century (from Flacourt, Étienne de, Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar, Paris 1658) Fig. 5: Rova (Royal House) of Ambositra, eighteenth century (state of building in 2015, after reconstruction in the 2000s; photo D. T.) Fig. 6: Portrait of Moritz August Beňovský (from Memoirs and Travels, London 1790) Fig. 7: Map of the alleged settlement of Louisbourg under Beňovský (n.d.; photo D. T.) Fig. 8: “White” and “black” Malagasy (from Flacourt, Étienne de, Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar, Paris 1658) Fig. 9: “A Roandriana with his wife carried by slaves” (from Flacourt, Étienne de, Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar, Paris 1658) Fig. 10: “Subjection of the inhabitants of the Province of Anosy” (from Flacourt, Étienne de, Histoire de la Grande Isle de Madagascar, Paris 1658) Fig. 11 and 12: Roandriana and Roandriana woman (from [Carpeau du Saussay], Voyage, 1722) Fig. 13 and 14: Representations of Malagasy (from Grasset de Saint-Sauveur, Costumes civils actuels de tous les peuples connus, 1784 – 1788) Fig. 15: Layout of the first floor of the Hôtel des Affaires Étrangères et de la Marine, Versailles (with the offices of the Ministry of the Navy) (from Berthier, JeanBaptiste, Plans, coupes et élévations des hôtels des départements de la Guerre, des Affaires-Étrangères et de la Marine, no place, n.d.) Fig. 16: Floor plan of the ground floor of the Hôtel des Affaires Étrangères et de la Marine with the Grande Galerie, Versailles (from Berthier, Jean-Baptiste, Plans, coupes élévations des hôtels des départements de la Guerre, des Affaires-Étrangères et de la Marine, no place, n.d.) Fig. 17: Section of the Hôtel des Affaires Étrangères et de la Marine in Versailles (from Berthier, Jean-Baptiste, Plans, coupes élévations des hôtels des départements de la Guerre, des Affaires-Étrangères et de la Marine, no place, n.d.) Fig. 18: Palais de la Porte Dorée, Paris (present condition) (photo D. T.) Fig. 19: The bas-relief of the façade of Palais de la Porte Dorée, Paris (present condition) (photo D. T.) Fig. 20 and 21: Frescoes in the great hall of Palais de la Porte Dorée, Paris (present condition) (photo D. T.) Fig. 22: Fort Manda in Mahavelona (state of building in 2015) (photo D. T.) Fig. 23: Offerings at Fort Manda (photo D. T.)

https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-018

Bibliography Manuscripts Archives nationales (Paris and Pierrefitte-sur-Seine) AF III 208 (dossier 947: “Marine et Colonies”); AF IV 1211 (Dossier “Projet d’expéditions maritimes et mémoires sur les colonies étrangères.); AF IV 1187 (“Rapports et lettres du ministre de la marine sur toutes les matières”). C 277 (730: Minutes et rapports, motions, discours et projets de décrets relatifs au procèsverbal du 11 – 13 brumaire an II). D XVI 3 (dossier 31: correspondance des ministres). D XXV 130 (dossier 1019). D* XVI 3 (Procès-verbaux du comité de la marine). MAR B 4 125, MAR B 4 127 and MAR B 4 150 (rapports et journaux de capitaines de vaisseaux). MAR C 7 151 (Kerguelen) and MAR C 7 153 (Kersaint). MAR 3JJ 348 and MAR 3JJ 350.

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Index Index of personal names Acosta, José de 29, 331 f., 334 Adam (Bible) 11, 225, 232, 238 Adanson, Michel 326 Adelsheim, Henri de 164 Aiguillon, Emmanuel-Armand de Vignerot du Plessis d’ 2, 212, 298 Āmina bint Wahb (Mother of Prophet Muhammad) 50 Andrianampoinimerina (King of Imerina) 52 Andrianjanahary (King of Mahavelona) 74, 125, 143 f. Arundel, Thomas Howard, 21th Earl of 55 August III (King of Poland) 127 Avril (interpreter, first name unknown) 100, 107 Bacon, Francis 31 Bacon de la Chevalerie, Jean-Jacques 267, 284 Banks, Joseph 21, 182, 236, 239 Baudeau, Nicolas (abbé) 249 f., 286 Beaulieu, Augustin de 18, 54 f. Beausse, Pierre de 68 Bellecombe, Guillaume Léonard de 73 – 75, 87, 93, 131 – 136, 139 – 141, 149, 159, 165 f., 172 f., 205 f., 210, 213, 281 f., 295, 300, 302 Belsunce, Armand de 322 Beňovský, Móric August 1 – 5, 10, 34 f., 51, 87, 124 f., 127 – 169, 171 – 174, 181, 200 f., 203 f., 206 – 214, 216, 218 – 220, 222, 229, 240 f., 246 f., 253, 257, 260, 265 – 267, 269, 273, 275, 277 – 281, 283 – 286, 289 – 291, 295, 298 – 301, 303, 308, 310 f., 314 f., 336, 345, 348, 354 Béquet (Becquet), Jean-Baptiste (trade clerk) 87, 211, 213, 247, 296 Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Jacques Henri 9, 77, 97, 199, 258 Bérubé (trader) 143, 148, 153, 155 Besenval, Peter Josef Viktor von 288 https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110715316-020

Betia (Queen of Nosy Boraha) 72, 74, 125 f., 176, 191, 258, 344 Bienfait, Pierre 246 f. Bodin, Jean 332 Bonaparte, Napoleon 54, 170, 182 – 184, 215, 263 f., 328 Boothby, Richard 55 Bory de Saint-Vincent, Jean Baptiste Georges Geneviève Marcellin 263, 339 Boucher (trade clerk) 172 f. Bougainville, Louis Antoine de 143, 155, 236 Bourdaise, Toussaint 227 Bouvet de Lozier, Jean-Baptiste Charles 279 Boynes, Pierre Étienne Bourgeois de 75, 77, 81, 92, 125 – 127, 130 f., 142, 147, 150, 156, 206 – 210, 212, 214, 219, 240, 253, 257, 261, 265 f., 278, 298 Bréon, Jean Nicolas 40, 188, 191 – 193 Bruto Chambanga (Andriantsiambany, King of Anosy) 54 Buffon, Georges-Louis Leclerc de 237 Burnel, Étienne 183 Caesar, Gaius Iulius 333 Calonne, Charles Alexandre de 278, 327 Carpeau du Saussay 57 f., 66 – 69, 220 – 222, 228, 249, 354 Cartouche (favorite of Dian Ramach) 119 f. Castries, Charles Eugène Gabriel de La Croix de 213, 253, 270, 278, 287, 291 f., 296, 301 f., 310 Catherine II (Emperor of Russia) 288 Cauche, François 57 – 59, 61, 220 – 222, 226 f., 232, 330, 337 Cavagnal de Vaudreuil, Pierre de 333 Chambonneaus, Louis Moreau de 326 Champlain, Samuel de 332 Champmargou (Governor of Fort-Dauphin) 58, 64 – 66, 68 – 70, 221 Chantassin, Pouchot de 70

382

Index

Chapelier, Louis-Armand 179, 234, 313 Charles I (King of England) 55 Charles V (Roman-German Emperor) 298 Charpentier, François 8, 71, 174, 239, 256 f., 263, 329 f. Chazal (inhabitant of Île de la Réunion) 240 Chevillard de Montesson, Paul 283 Chevreau, Étienne Claude 73 – 75, 93, 126, 131 – 136, 139 – 141, 149, 159, 165 f., 171 – 173, 206, 210, 213, 257, 281, 300 Choiseul, Étienne-François de 82, 261 f., 272, 281, 288, 295 – 297, 301 f., 306 f., 323 f. Colbert, Jean-Baptiste 5, 30 f., 67 – 70, 220, 252, 269, 274, 293, 304, 307, 326, 329 Commerson, Philibert 75, 85, 93, 123, 164, 235 – 237, 258, 314 Comparans (captain) 143 Condé, Louis V. Joseph de 283 Condorcet, Marie Jean Antoine Nicolas Caritat de 20, 23, 292 Cook, James 182, 279 Coquereau (ordonnateur of Louisbourg) 172 f., 247 f., 276, 282, 294 Cortés, Hernán 136, 298 Cossigny, Jean-François Charpentier de 71 Cossigny de Palma, Joseph-François Charpentier de 174, 181, 185, 203, 239, 242, 256 – 258, 263, 270, 275, 308, 312, 314, 325, 345, 347 Courteen, William 55 Crusoe, Robinson 146, 169 D’Alembert, Jean-Baptiste Le Rond 262, 295 Damiens, Robert-François 288 David, Pierre Félix Barthélémy 11, 15, 17, 28, 72, 162, 238, 251 De Barry 229, 233, 243 De Moine 301 Decaen, Charles Mathieu Isidore 183 – 186, 203, 263 Deffand, Marie de Vichy-Chamrond du 295 Defoe, Daniel 9, 45 Dellon, Charles 226 f. Des Assises (ordonnateur of Louisbourg) 130, 133, 136 – 138, 140 f., 160 f., 165, 209

Desroches, François-Julien du Dresnay 74, 77 f., 81, 83 – 85, 87, 92, 97, 118, 125 – 127, 176, 205 f. D’Houdetot, César Louis Marie François Ange 172 f. Dian Machicore see Ndrianmasikoro Dian Ramach see Ndriandramaka Dianancore 172 Diard 125, 143 f., 171 – 173, 176, 178, 223, 276, 343 Diderot, Denis 21, 24, 150, 262, 295 Didier (entrepreneur) 175 Dienancore 133 Du Bois 57 f., 68 – 70, 220, 222, 226 f., 248 Dubuc, Jean-Baptiste 286 f., 295 Duhamel de Précourt see Meusnier, Baptiste Dumaine 241, 312 Dumas, Jean-Daniel 79 f., 82 – 84, 86 f., 89 – 91, 95, 105, 122, 125 f., 150, 169, 206, 266 f., 301 Dumouriez, Charles-François 281 Dupleix, Joseph-François 320 f. Dupont de Nemours, Pierre Samuel 251, 327 Efoulaché 137 Estaing, Charles-Henri d’ 323 Étienne, Nicolas (missionary) 66, 183, 220 f., 227, 307, 326, 354 Every, Henry 45, 70 Fanchon 125, 171 – 173 Farquhar, Sir Robert 187 f., 313 Ferrand-Dupuy, Louis 267, 291 Fiche 192 Figeac (military) 95 Filet, Jean Onésime (called La Bigorne) 75, 125 – 127, 171 – 173, 176, 178, 223, 258, 260, 343 Flacourt, Étienne de 8 f., 42, 49, 55, 57 – 59, 61 – 64, 66 f., 69 f., 164, 214, 220 – 223, 225 – 230, 232 – 234, 237, 239, 243 – 251, 265, 268, 272, 286, 303, 309 f., 329, 336, 354 Foigny, Gabriel de 70 Fontanieu, Moïse-Augustin de 304

Index

Forestier (conseiller d’État, vice-président of the Conseil de marine) 187, 189 f., 194 f., 311 f. Forfait, Pierre Alexandre Laurent 179, 183 f., 215 Fouquet, Nicolas 63, 244 Franklin, Benjamin 292 Frappaz, Théophile 41, 50, 108 f., 188 f., 193 – 195 Frederick V/I (Prince-elector of the Palatinate and King of Bohemia) 55 Fressanges, Jean-Baptiste 225, 230, 233, 263, 313 Froberville, Eugène de 108, 142, 313 Froidevaux, Henri 9, 42, 77, 86, 220 Gaultier, Guillaume 71 Glemet (commerce clerk) 83, 90 f., 122 Gonneville, Binnot Paulmier de 278 – 280 Gosse (commander of Nosy Boraha) 72 – 74, 175, 195 Gouly, Benoît 180 – 184, 215, 263, 308 Grandidier, Alfred 7, 9 f., 43, 47, 50, 54 f., 77 Grasset de Saint-Sauveur, Jacques 228 f., 233, 354 Grenier de Taudias, Jacques Raymond de 260 Grimm, Friedrich Melchior 295 Hammond, Walter 55 Henry IV (King of France) 276 Henry (officer) 194, 276, 328 Holzendorf, Baron von see Meusnier, Baptiste Hotman, François 332 Hugon, Barthélémy 74, 109, 194, 308 f. Iavy (King of Mahavelona) 75, 126, 134, 139, 141, 143 f., 163, 172 f., 175, 178, 191, 223, 276 Jaucourt, Louis de 249 Jean-René (King of Toamasina) 41, 187 – 189, 191 f., 194, 223 f. Jefferson, Thomas 324 Joseph II (Roman-German Emperor) 162 Kant, Immanuel

22, 24

383

Kaunitz, Wenzel Anton von 162 Kerguelen de Trémarec, Yves Joseph de 267, 278 f. Kersalaün, François Jacques Veller (Weller) de 202, 270, 277 f., 285, 296 f., 310, 314 Kersalaün, Jean-Vincent Euzénou de 278 La Bigorne see Filet, Jean Onésime La Borie, Jean-Zénon-André de Véron, baron de 291, 310, 314 La Bourdonnais, Bertrand François Mahé de 269 La Case, Vacher de (Dian Pousse) 65 – 70, 76, 221 – 223, 343 La Haye, Jacob Blanquet de 57 f., 69 f., 220, 233, 249 La Meilleraye, Charles de La Porte de 9, 57, 62, 64, 66 – 68 La Pérouse, Jean-François de 29, 132 – 135, 138 – 140, 348 La Serre, Jean-François Destorches, Chevalier de 206, 214, 229, 233, 242, 247 f., 253, 267 – 269, 280 – 283, 285 f., 288, 290, 295, 302 f., 308 – 310, 312, 314 f. Lacrosse, Jean-Baptiste Raymond de 184 Lalande, Joseph Jérôme Lefrançais de 236, 258 Lalau (Dian) 223 Lally-Tollendal, Thomas Arthur de 79 Lamboina 163 Lamburante 137 f. Las Casas, Bartolomé de 257, 331 Lasalle (La Saly), Jacques 163 f., 283 – 285, 314 Launay, Jean-Baptiste Michel 275 f., 285 Launay, Pierre Augustin de 275, 285 Lavalahy (chief of the Zana-Malata) 178 Lavatangue 65 Le Borgne (interpreter) 73 – 75 Leboux-Dumorier, Joseph-Pierre 180, 240 Leclerc de Montlinot, Abbé Charles-AntoineJoseph 182, 262 f., 269, 308, 310, 327 Leduc (first clerk of the Ministry of the Navy) 168, 212 Legentil de la Galaisière, Guillaume Joseph Hyacinthe Jean-Baptiste 258

384

Index

Lenoir, Jean-Charles Pierre 172 f., 289 f. Lescallier, Daniel 8, 34, 170, 174 – 181, 183 – 185, 199, 204, 215, 222, 229, 240, 242, 263, 284, 311, 325, 345 – 347 Lesquelen, Boisnoir de 71 Liniers, Jacques de 292 Liniers, Jacques Louis Henri de 203, 229, 247, 268, 292, 314 Linné, Carl von 236 Lilet Geoffroy, Jean Baptiste 313 Locke, John 22 Louis XIII (King of France) 59, 276 Louis XIV (King of France) 17, 31, 43, 68, 220, 222, 225 f., 231 f., 252, 276, 347 Louis XV (King of France) 9, 79, 99, 288 Louis XVI (King of France) 144, 210, 230, 262, 289, 297, 300, 302 Louis XVIII (King of France) 188 Lubomirski, Jerzy Marcin 288, 290 Lycurgus 162, 168 Mackau, Ange René Armand de 189, 191 f., 194, 224, 312 Magalhães, João Jacinto de (Jean Hiacynthe de Magellan) 159, 163 Magallon, François-Louis de 183 Mahertomp 137 Maillart du Mesle, Jacques 92, 155 – 158, 160, 206 f., 211 – 213, 240 Maimbo (King of Anosy) 113 – 120, 229, 235 Malesherbes, Chrétien-Guillaume de Lamoignon de 262 Mallendré (captain) 282 Malotet, Arthur 9, 42 f., 77 Mananghe, Dian 63, 65 – 67, 69 f., 221 Mananzac, Dian 99, 106, 109 – 117, 119 f., 235 Manding, Dian 137 Manhelle (King of Mahafaly) 62 f. Maria Theresia (Roman-German empress) 127, 288 Mariano, Luis 63 Marie-Antoinette (Queen of France) 262, 289 Marion-Dufresne, Marc Joseph 283 Marval, Dian 59

Maudave, Louis Laurent de Féderbe de 4, 10, 33 – 35, 50, 77 – 81, 84 – 93, 95 – 122, 124 f., 127 f., 130 f., 140, 143 – 145, 149 – 151, 155, 158, 161, 164, 169, 171, 174, 180 – 182, 184, 195, 199 – 201, 203 – 205, 207 f., 211, 213 – 216, 218 f., 222, 224, 229, 232 – 241, 244, 246 – 250, 252 – 259, 261, 263, 265, 268 f., 272, 275 f., 285 – 287, 290 f., 295 – 297, 301, 303 f., 308 – 311, 314, 317, 320, 325 f., 329 f., 334 – 337, 342 f., 345, 347 Mayeur, Nicolas 87, 108, 132, 136, 138 f., 141 – 144, 148, 151 – 153, 163, 223, 229 f., 234, 241, 301, 311, 313 Mazarin, Armand Charles de la Porte et de la Meilleraye de Rethel et de 68 Mécusson (officer) 184 Mengaud de la Hage (captain) 109, 115, 207 Menou, Abdullah Jacques-François de 328 f. Mercier, Louis-Sébastien 273, 293, 296, 314 Meusnier, Baptiste 269, 286 – 293, 309, 314 Michel (first clerk of the Minister of the Navy) 8 f., 26, 86 f., 89, 97, 99, 141, 211, 258, 295 f., 310, 326 Milius, Pierre Bernard 74, 187 – 189, 191 – 195, 312 Millon des Marquets, François 206, 211, 247, 266 – 268, 270, 276 Mirabeau, Victor Riquetti de 250 f., 262 Montdevergue, François Lopès de 68 f. Montesquieu, Charles-Louis de Secondat de 22, 121 f., 124, 238, 319, 345 Montreuil, Pierre André Gohin chevalier de 322 Morel 277 Morellet, André 262 Morgann, Maurice 327 Motais de Narbonne, Augustin-François 162 Mousnier, Jean-François 227 Nacquart, Charles 54, 227 Nadau du Treil, Charles François Emmanuel 322 Ndriandramaka 54, 58 f., 61 – 65, 221, 337 Ndrianmasikoro 58 f. Necker, Jacques 182, 261 f., 272, 295, 302

Index

Necker, Suzanne (née Curchod) 182, 261 f., 272, 295, 302 Neuhoff, Theodor Stephan von 169 Nolivos, Pierre Gédéon de 323 Nong (Dian) 65 Orléans, Louis-Philippe II Joseph d’ Oudot, Nicolas 247

8, 283

Panckoucke, Charles-Joseph 182 Panolah, Dian (prince of Manambolo) 62 – 64 Paulmier de Courtonne, Jean 278 Penn, William 337 Petit de la Rhodière, Joseph 39, 192 – 194 Philippe-Égalité see Orléans, Louis-Philippe II Joseph d’ Pizarro, Francisco 298 Pléville Le Pelley, Georges-René 215, 308 Poivre, Pierre 75, 79 f., 82 – 87, 89 – 93, 95, 105, 122, 125 f., 204 f., 239, 257 – 260, 262, 266, 269, 272, 301 Pompadour, Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson de 262 Pontchartrain, Louis Phélypeaux de 307 Postel, Guillaume 332 Pousse, Dian see La Case Praslin, César Gabriel de 78 – 84, 86 f., 90 – 93, 95, 101, 105, 119, 121 f., 203 – 205, 207, 209, 222, 231, 234, 246, 252 f., 261, 265, 270, 286, 295, 297, 301, 303, 325, 334 Prévost d’Exiles, Antoine-François (abbé) 243, 249, 286 Pronis, Jacques 9, 42, 57, 59 – 62, 64, 76, 86, 220 f., 223 Pułaski, Kazimierz Michał Wacław Wiktor 287 f., 290 Quesnay, François 262 Quisquet, François 163 Raboc 136, 138, 279 Radama I (King of the Merina and of Madagascar) 15, 41, 52, 186 f., 341, 343 Raffangour 167 Raimaz 111, 113 – 115, 117, 119, 235

385

Raimonza 235 Rajac see Pronis, Jacques Ramael, Dian 65 Ramasoulone, Dian 107 Ramihongars (prince of the Manampanihy Valley) 218 f., 336 Raminia (ancestor of the Zafiraminia) 50, 164 f., 167 Ramousset (Ramousaye), Dian 69 Ranavalona I (Queen of Madagascar) 53, 341 Ranicaze 222 f. Raoul (Raholo) 134 f., 137 f. Rapin (spy) 281 Rasissate, Dian 65 Ratsimilaho (King of the Betsimisaraka) 46, 72 – 74 Raval, Dian (King of the Masikoro) 62 f., 65 Ravel, Dian 59, 61 f., 223 Raynal, Guillaume Thomas François 21, 233, 237, 243, 254 f., 259, 261 f., 264, 280, 295, 308, 324, 334 f., 337 Razau 61, 221 Rennefort, Urbain Souchu de 8, 57 f., 64 – 70, 220 – 222, 226 f., 232, 309 Richelieu, Armand-Jean du Plessis de 269 Rigault (captain) 59 Rochefoucauld, Louis-Alexandre de la 292 Rochon, Alexis-Marie de 8, 229, 237, 247 f., 255, 260 – 264, 268 – 270, 278, 280, 294, 314 Rohan-Guéméné, Louis René Édouard de 302 Ronsard, Pierre de 332 Roubaud, Pierre-Joseph-André (abbé) 243 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 168, 261 f., 270 Rousselot de Surgy, Jacques-Philibert 243, 249 Roux, Sylvain 73 f., 170 f., 185 – 195, 215, 224, 310 f., 313 Roze, Pierre François 72, 126, 202, 232, 234, 246 – 248, 253, 267, 269, 285 f., 290, 295, 301 f., 309, 314 Rupert of the Rhine (Ruprecht von der Pfalz) 55 Sachsen-Teschen, Albrecht Kasimir of

127

386

Index

Saint-Hilaire (clerk of the Minister of the Navy) 190 f., 194 Sanglier, Chevalier de 4, 171, 240 f., 247 f., 282, 308 Sartine, Antoine Raymond Juan Gualbert Gabriel de 2, 131 f., 135 f., 144, 148 f., 152 f., 155 – 158, 163, 209 – 211, 213, 229, 248, 267, 277, 281, 290, 296, 300 – 302, 310 Saunier (captain) 143, 209 f., 298 Savary, Claude-Etienne 328 Savassi 148 Savournin (trader) 142 – 144, 148, 153, 173 Schmaltz 264 Schneider (geographer) 194 Sémerville (lieutenant on a ship) 108 Sianique see Tsianihina Sibran 223 Siette de la Rousselière (inhabitant of Île de France) 202, 276, 314 Sonnerat, Pierre 230, 232 f., 237, 259 – 262, 314 Soubise, Charles de Rohan de 287 Souillac, François de 125, 162 – 164, 171 – 173, 282 f. Stanislaus (Stanisław) II Augustus Poniatowski (King of Poland) 288

Tombe, Charles-François 54, 108, 223, 230, 263, 266 Tompe Magnarive see Diard Trévau (captain) 86, 206, 302 Tserongh, Dian 222 Tsialana 178 Tsianihina 137 Tsifanin 191 f. Turgot, Anne-Robert Jacques 208 – 210, 251, 262, 292, 326 Turgot, Etienne François 326

Talleyrand-Périgord, Charles-Maurice de 328 Telfair, Charles 234 Ternay, Charles-Henri-Louis d’Arsac de 2, 92, 130 – 132, 136, 139, 142, 153, 155 f., 206 f., 209, 211 – 213, 240, 253, 266, 279, 298 Tew, Tom 46 Tirol (commissaire of Île de la Réunion) 175

Washington, George

Unienville, Antoine Marrier d’ (baron)

313

Valgny, M. de (officer) 34, 73 – 75, 86, 89, 92, 98, 116 f., 121 – 124, 150, 200, 234 f., 267, 301, 311, 348 van Broeck, Adrian 45 Vaudreuil see Cavagnal de Vaudreuil, Pierre de Vauquelin (captain) 83, 87, 205 Vergennes, Charles Gravier de 169, 213, 292, 302, 327 Villaret de Joyeuse, Louis-Thomas 179, 215 Vioménil, Antoine Charles du Houx de 281 Volney, Constantin François de 327 f. Voltaire 117, 120, 236, 262, 335, 345 159, 161

Zakavola (King of the Betsimisaraka) 175 – 179, 185 Zanahary (God) 74, 167, 233 Zanahary (King of Mahavelona) see Andrianjanahary

Index

387

Index of places Aix-en-Provence 7, 129, 355 Alexandria 328 Ambositra 104, 354 Angontsy 142, 148, 163 Antananarivo 6, 8, 52, 194, 234, 341 Baltimore 28, 150, 162 f., 238, 283 Bar 127 f., 281, 287 f., 290 Boina 46, 52, 92 f., 128, 138 f., 141 – 143, 146, 148 f., 151 – 153, 163, 165, 278 Buenos Aires 292 Canton (Guangzhou) 127, 135, 256 f., 303 Cape Town 143 Cayenne 252, 324, 326 Chantilly 202, 286 Fanjahira 8, 50 f., 64, 70, 113, 203, 223, 354 Fiume see Rijeka Fontainebleau 211 Fort-Dauphin see Tôlanaro Fort-de-la-loi see Tôlanaro Fort Manda 341 f., 344, 354 Foulpointe see Mahavelona Hamburg 128, 323 Hiara (Yara) 113 – 116 Hohenlinden 283 Irkutsk

128

Karaikal 79, 84, 115 Kourou 324 – 326 London 11 f., 18, 22 – 24, 28, 31, 44 f., 47, 55, 145, 162, 169, 182, 186 f., 251, 254, 262, 283, 327, 354, 356 Lorient 285 Louisbourg 129, 134, 137 – 139, 142 f., 145, 147 f., 150 – 159, 168, 171, 208 – 210, 219, 299 f., 354 Macau 127 f., 260 Madrid 29, 306

Mahavelona 1, 40 f., 46, 72, 74 f., 86, 92, 122 f., 126, 133 f., 143, 152, 163, 171 – 175, 177, 179 – 181, 183 – 185, 192, 203, 205, 258, 266, 281 f., 284, 302, 341 – 343, 354 Manampanihy (Valley) 59, 62, 65, 81, 91, 218 f. Mangalore 50, 226 Mangaroro 50 Marahombay 172 f., 276 Mauritania (Madagascar) 163 f., 168 Mazalagem Nova 52 Mecca 50, 226 Medina 226 Moringano (Bay) 141 Nantes 190 Naples 306 New York 7, 11, 14, 18, 20 – 23, 29, 52, 70, 182, 217, 238, 323, 339 Nouveau Masselage see Mazalagem Nova Paris 5 – 9, 11 f., 16 f., 20, 23, 26, 29, 35, 44, 54 f., 57 f., 69 f., 82, 129, 141, 162, 168, 172 – 174, 178 – 184, 186, 188, 195, 199, 207, 220, 224 f., 229 f., 233, 236, 239, 242 – 244, 247, 249, 251, 256, 258 – 260, 262 f., 268, 273, 276 – 279, 281 f., 284, 286, 289 – 292, 295 – 297, 301 – 305, 307 f., 311 f., 314, 317 – 319, 321, 323 f., 327 f., 330 f., 333, 338 f., 345, 354 – 356 Pierrefites-sur-Seine 7 Plaine de la Santé des volontaires 87, 136 Poissons 94, 182 Pondichéry 132, 258, 287 Port de Boynes (Antongila Bay) 298 Port Louis (Sainte-Marie) 39 f., 354 Rijeka 162 Rom 296, 333 Sainte-Luce (Bay) 86 Saint-Germain-en-Laye Saumur 69

307

388

Index

St. Augustin (Bay) 55, 57, 60, 65 Surat 58, 70, 94, 227

Troy 332 Troyes 247

Taingy-taingy (Bay) 189 Tamatave see Toamasina Tintingue see Taingy-taingy (Bay) Toamasina 15, 41, 52, 133, 172, 181, 184 – 188, 192, 194, 203, 206, 214, 223 Tôlanaro 4, 40, 58 f., 77 f., 80 f., 86 – 88, 101, 111, 113 f., 122, 126, 180, 184 f., 193 f., 203, 205, 207, 213, 337

Versailles 1 – 3, 7, 15, 35 f., 77, 82 f., 96, 125, 127, 132, 145, 150, 152 – 154, 158 f., 162, 164 – 166, 169, 207 f., 211 f., 234, 239, 241 f., 262, 273, 275, 289, 293 f., 296, 299, 301, 305 – 307, 312 – 315, 321, 345 f., 354 Vienna 28, 162, 288 Warsaw

287