By Marlene L. Daut

This week marked the anniversary of the historic Battle of Vertières (November 18, 1803), considered to have been the formal end of the Haitian Revolution, as it led directly to French general Rochambeau’s surrender on November 19, 1803 and to formal Haitian independence several weeks later on New Year's Day 1804. 

Yet one little known fact is that only ten days after Rochambeau's capitulation, on November 29, 1803, Haitian generals Augustin Clervaux, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, and Henry Christophe issued a preliminary declaration of independence (the official revised version changing the island's name to Haiti would be issued on January 1, 1804) in which they stated in no uncertain terms:

“In the name of the Black People and Men of Colour of St. Domingo. The independence of St. Domingo is proclaimed. . . . [T]he frightful veil of prejudice is torn to pieces. . . . We have sworn not to listen to clemency towards all those who would dare to speak to us of slavery. We shall be inexorable, perhaps even cruel. . . . Nothing is too dear and every means are lawful to men from whom it is wished to tear off the first of all blessings. Were they to cause rivers and torrents of blood to run; were they in order to maintain their liberty, to conflagrate the seven eighths of the globe, they are innocent before the tribunal of Providence, that has not created men, to see them groaning under a hard and shameful servitude.”

Haiti's November 1803 declaration of independence circulated around the world--it was reprinted in English translation in both the United States and England in January and February 1804, respectively, for example-- reminding the world that it was infinitely possible (and ever more likely) for the enslaved to abolish slavery themselves. 

Indeed, the Battle of Vertières not only pushed the door wide open for Haitian independence, but can be considered a decisive turning point in the long fight against slavery and colonialism waged by enslaved individuals and collectivities across the Atlantic World. For, in the words of Frederick Douglass, it was Haitian independence that “taught the world the danger of slavery and the value of liberty." Another African American intellectual, James Theodore Holly, also emphasized the Haitian Revolution’s global importance, when he echoed Baron de Vastey’s assertion that the Haitian Revolution, with its ricocheting impacts across the Americas, greatly transcended the French and American revolutions: “The Haitian Revolution is also the grandest political event of this or any other age,” Holly declared. “In weighty causes, and wondrous and momentous features, it surpasses the American revolution, in an incomparable degree” 

While November 18 remains an important day in Haiti, if the Haitian Revolution ever truly got its global due, Vertières Day would be celebrated as a freedom holiday across the world. While I won't hold my breath for that, to commemorate this historic day, week, and month, I thought readers might like to glimpse an extended excerpt of the Haitian poet, editor, and playwright Massillon Coicou’s lyric poem “Vertières,” from his 1892 collection Poésies nationales. 

With this poem, Coicou joined many Haitian authors who, throughout the years, have sought to capture both the epic heroism of the freedom fighters who bravely risked their lives during the Battle of Vertières (generals François Capois, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, Henry Christophe, André Vernet, and the many soldiers fighting under them) and the longitudinal meanings and implications of the battle itself.  

Vertières (1892)*

I

Vertières, itself above all, Vertières is here to disrupt

The marvelous momentum of the indigenous army.

There, like a proud eagle his powerful eye darting,

The tricolor flag waves, threatening;

Here, the blacks, everywhere spread out across the heath,

The blacks, numerous, pressed, exasperated, out of breath

Moved by the desire to shine the beacon 

Of reality on their obscure dream… so handsome!

Dessalines appears. Calm, he meditates, adjusting:

And then, an eagle assessing his surroundings,

He orders Capois to go face the cannons. [. . .]

Capois jumps to it. Under him, bursting with the noble pride

That fills their each and every soul, 

Legions of negroes now rise toward the goal.

The cannonade thunders and grinds them; they are troubled

And retreat; Capois revives them; they redouble

In bravery, and, relentlessly, pointing to the fortress,

Capois breathes into them a disdain for death.

They go. [. . .]

II

But the struggle is more ardent now; and the young combatants,

Are suddenly as experienced as the old veterans.

They rise, and on all parts, to the right, the left, the center,

Death comes reaping, always and in all quarters.

Yet, piercing those ranks warring so firmly,

A sudden cry rings out, and all shudder deeply! . . .

—Capois falls!—Capois is dead!—There again he rises,

Prouder, bolder, greater! . . . Is this nothing but a dream?

Or is death weakening, unsure, on seeing

The countenance of this reaper that now feels so imposing? . . .

Calm, radiant, now suddenly upright 

Far from his bloody horse, he presses, charges, alights,

Shouting the sublime cry: “Forward! Forward!” [. . .]

Forward! Forward! Capois takes flight.

His hat shot off, no matter; invigorating the fight,

All about him enthuses, electrifies the soldiers;

He wants, in these heroes, to crown a band of victors;

To see, on these black martyrs, the black race stand free! . . .

III

The firing stops; they listen; no longer can they hear 

Vibrating the horrid accent of the old French lions;

Before the swarthy man who holds success’s affection,

Who offers himself up to death and dominates her so,

Stunned, the tricolor flag bends low:

The drums beat the march under the folds of the banner,

Then a Frenchman named Rochambeau walks over. [. . .]

Enjoying as he can

In all its horrors, the enslavement of the black man,

Yet Rochambeau, in his heart, keeps alive nonetheless

The love that he vows to sublime prowess…

Thus does he feel proud, as in him beats this bold

Superb accent, such as only the brave hold.

—And with his eye on Capois, serene, and his voice low,

The French messenger congratulates the hero

Who has just covered himself in so much glory,

He says,

And the immortal echo of Vertières applauds;

The drum rolls the march, and nearby in the rear

Of the ramparts of Champin that support Vertières,

Rochambeau claps his hands and his guard of honor

Like him, clap their hands too!—It is Capois—O splendor!—

Capois—there—whom the great army thus exalts!

And here are all the blacks who never come to halt,

Eagles so great the air can barely hold their wings,

Demigods leaping quick like thunder and lightning!

But, before Haiti, when France gives in;

When Rochambeau battles, where is Dessalines?

Here, proud, the warrior cheers as well;

His bright shining eyes cast an infinite spell;

The future is ablaze, and in all quietness

Sat on a nearby mound, smiling, to combat a witness

He sees the blacks, his sons, rising up, immortal,

Scaling up to the sky with the titans as sole equals. [. . .]

V

At last the fight reaches its supreme climax;

Charrier taken away; Pierre-Michel now silent;

Breda trembling; Vertières, worried, despondent,

Wavers! . . . Suddenly nature is shrouded;

Under infinite skies a dark shadow extended;

The air resounds with the clash of the elements;

And, quickly, all over, bursting, in moments,

Lost in the grooves of the iron through them running,

Announcing the downpour, are gloomy strokes of lightning;

A thousand frightened birds swirl.—It rains.

Then, but only then, under the fire,

With slow steps, weapon in hand, those who never tire

In their marvelous struggle, all those heroes retire! . . .

Yet here they are again! as soon as the sun shimmers,

Carried by hearts that vengeance has rendered bitter,

Transported, they leap, the charge beating once more,

All at last, as if one, springing to the fore. [. . .]

And see them here swearing with a long profound cry

Let us now be victors, or let us now then die!

None responds just yet; a silence full and low

Greets them, whereas, stoic, onward they go,

As lofty souls to their ideal . . .

[. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .]

Now, despite their efforts, feeling Vertières crumble

That night, with the black man’s iron courage ahead,

The heroes of the Adige and the Rhine had fled.

Source text: Massillon Coicou. “Vertières.” Poésies nationales (première série). Paris: V. Goupy et Jourdan, 1892.

 Image Credit: Jacques-Richard Chéry, “Battle of Vertières, n.d., Figge Museum

*Poem originally translated by Marlene L. Daut and Grégory Pierrot for Haitian Revolutionary Fictions: An Anthology (Charlottesville, VA: University of Virginia Press, 2022).

To cite this article: Marlene L. Daut, “This week in Haitian history (November 18, 1803): Haiti’s Historic Victory against the French at the Battle of Vertières Paves the Way for Haitian Independence,” King of Haiti’s World Blog, November 21, 2025 < https://marlenedaut.com/blog/this-week-in-haitian-history-november-18-1803-haiti-s-historic-victory>