Remember When is a new series of posts where we take a look back at some of the funny, bizarre and downright disturbing incidents in Canada's past.
Since cakers like to judge everyone else (particularly Americans) and point out their historic wrong-doings, it's time to take a mirror to these incompetent hypocrites. Enjoy!
Marie-Joseph Angelique
Marie was a badass forgotten by virtually everyone in Canada until only recently; remembered vaguely by few historians and celebrated as a figure of black resistance by Canada's black population (at less than 3%).
She was born in 1705 in Portugal, enslaved and later brought to North America. After arriving in New England she was purchased by a Montreal man who brought her back to his hometown to work as his slave. After he died, Marie-Joseph carried on in service to his widow who gave her the name "Angelique". She took a white indentured laborer as her lover, named Claude Thibault.
She asked her owner for freedom but was denied, so she started raising hell: talking back, threatening death, fighting with other servants and claiming she'd burn shit down. Being such a nuisance, she was sold to a Quebec City man in exchange for 600 pounds of gun powder. Before she could be relocated she set fire to her bed and ran away with Thibault. They were caught and returned.
One evening a portion of Montreal caught fire and Angelique was blamed for setting it.
Angélique was accused of starting the fire and arrested by police on 11 April. She was taken to court the following morning, where she was charged with arson, a capital crime punishable by death, torture or banishment.
In the French legal system of the 18th century, the accused was presumed guilty, and in New France, there were no trials by jury, only inquisitorial tribunals in which the defendant was meant to prove her innocence. Lawyers were banned from practicing in the colony by Louis XIV.
She was brought before the tribunal where witnesses testified that she'd previously threatened to burn things. After six weeks she was found guilty and sentenced to death.
She was to have her hands cut off and be burned alive. The sentence was appealed to the superior court in Québec City, where the death penalty was upheld and the gruesome aspects of the sentencing lessened. Angélique would be tortured, hanged, and then her body burned. She returned to Montréal to await her death.
In June of 1734, the twenty-nine year old woman was tortured in her jail cell. She broke down and "confessed" to the crime but refused to name her lover as a co-conspirator. Afterwards she was taken by garbage cart to the down town church and forced to make a public apology and beg for forgiveness. She was then hanged.
Slavery would last for over 200 years in Canada; its history intentionally hidden and forgotten for generations. If there is one person who puts a face, name and story to all the blacks who were enslaved - it is Marie-Joseph Angelique. She did not roll over and take her slavery with resignation, but demanded her freedom and attempted to take it.
The Hanging of Angelique
From Amazon:
Writer, historian and poet Afua Cooper tells the astonishing story of Marie-Joseph Angélique, a slave woman convicted of starting a fire that destroyed a large part of Montréal in April 1734 and condemned to die a brutal death. In a powerful retelling of Angélique’s story—now supported by archival illustrations—Cooper builds on 15 years of research to shed new light on a rebellious Portuguese-born black woman who refused to accept her indentured servitude. At the same time, Cooper completely demolishes the myth of a benign, slave-free Canada, revealing a damning 200- year-old record of legally and culturally endorsed slavery.
Of course in Canada we learn all about the crusty old racist white men who helped found this nation, but not the freedom-loving badasses who tried to escape it!
Post Script
The majority of the book provides historical context for Angelique's time and the events which led up to it. Her story compromises the ending, and details are scarce due to minimal records. I am glad that I know it. There is also a great list of slavery narratives in the epilogue (and an introduction to Fado music).
