[1795 – 1809] A Contested Island: French Ascendancy and the Reconquista

We begin in 1795, a year the island of Hispaniola shuddered, not from an earthquake, but from the stroke of a distant pen. By the Treaty of Basel, Spain, weary from European wars, handed its oldest colony, Santo Domingo – the eastern two-thirds of the island – over to France. Imagine the disbelief, the betrayal felt by the *criollos*, the Spanish-descended families who had called this land home for generations. Their world, built on Spanish tradition, Catholicism, and a rigid social hierarchy with enslaved Africans at its base, was suddenly cast into uncertainty. For nearly six years, French rule was more a rumor than a reality. Life, for many of the roughly 125,000 inhabitants scattered across the land – from the cattle ranches, the *hatos*, of the interior to the ancient, walled capital city of Santo Domingo – continued, albeit under a cloud of apprehension. Then, in 1801, the storm truly broke. From the west, from the French colony of Saint-Domingue, already convulsed by years of a brutal and transformative slave revolt, came Toussaint Louverture. A brilliant general, formerly enslaved himself, Toussaint marched into Santo Domingo. He came in the name of France, yet his actions were revolutionary: he abolished slavery. For the roughly 30,000 enslaved people in Santo Domingo, this was a breathtaking moment of liberation, however fleeting. For the landowning elite, it was a confirmation of their deepest fears, a world turned upside down. The air in the plazas, normally thick with the scent of tropical blooms and cooking fires, now carried the electric charge of radical change. But Napoleon Bonaparte, across the Atlantic, had other plans. He envisioned a French empire in the Americas, fueled by the immense wealth of sugar and coffee from Hispaniola. In 1802, a formidable French armada, carrying over 20,000 soldiers under General Charles Leclerc, Napoleon's own brother-in-law, arrived to crush the Haitian Revolution and reassert French authority over the entire island. Their mission included the reinstatement of slavery. While the fiercest fighting raged in Saint-Domingue, Santo Domingo did not escape. French troops occupied the capital, its centuries-old stone fortresses, like the Ozama, once again housing foreign soldiers. After initial French successes, disease and Haitian resistance decimated Leclerc’s army. Saint-Domingue would fight its way to independence as Haiti in 1804. But in Santo Domingo, French general Jean-Louis Ferrand clung to power. This was the "Era de Francia," a period of direct French governance lasting until 1808. Ferrand was determined. He sought to make Santo Domingo profitable for France, encouraging the cultivation of sugar cane and coffee, even promoting the cutting of precious mahogany. He tried to attract French settlers. Most chillingly, Ferrand, in a decree of 1805, authorized raids into Haiti to capture Haitians, specifically children under fourteen, to be sold back into slavery. Imagine the terror along the border, the whispered warnings, the desperate flights. Daily life became a tightrope walk. The rhythms of the *trapiches*, the sugar mills, grinding cane under the oppressive Caribbean sun, became the sounds of renewed servitude for some. Clothing remained largely practical: simple cottons for laborers, more elaborate European-influenced linens and silks for the French officials and compliant local elite, adapted for the tropical heat. Then, in 1808, news arrived that set the colony ablaze: Napoleon had invaded Spain and deposed King Ferdinand VII. Across Spanish America, loyalty to the captive king sparked rebellion against French rule. In Santo Domingo, the *criollos* saw their chance. A wealthy cattle rancher from Cotuí, Juan Sánchez Ramírez, emerged as the leader of this "Reconquista," or reconquest. He rallied a force of Dominicans, men who knew the rugged terrain, armed often with little more than machetes and old muskets, fueled by a desire to restore Spanish rule and their traditional way of life. The struggle was fierce. Sánchez Ramírez, a shrewd strategist, garnered support. Crucially, the British, Napoleon's implacable enemies, blockaded Santo Domingo by sea. In a twist of historical irony, even Haiti, under President Alexandre Pétion, provided clandestine aid to the Dominican rebels, eager to see the French weakened. The decisive moment came on November 7, 1808, at the Battle of Palo Hincado, near El Seibo. Sánchez Ramírez’s forces, though perhaps outnumbered and outgunned by Ferrand's professional troops, fought with desperate courage. The French lines broke; General Ferrand himself, facing utter defeat, chose suicide over capture. The victory at Palo Hincado echoed through the island, a testament to the resolve of the local population. The remaining French, under General Dubarquier, retreated into the walled city of Santo Domingo. A grueling siege began. For months, the city, with its formidable colonial ramparts, held out. Hunger and disease gnawed at both besieged and besiegers. Finally, in July 1809, the French surrendered. But it was not to Sánchez Ramírez and his Dominican patriots that the keys of the city were handed, but to the British. Shortly thereafter, Santo Domingo was officially returned to Spanish sovereignty. The French flag was lowered, the Spanish one raised once more over the Alcázar de Colón and the ancient cathedral. The Reconquista had succeeded in ousting the French, but the island, exhausted and scarred, now faced a new, uncertain chapter under a distant, weakened Spain, a period that would soon be known as *La España Boba* – the Foolish Spain. The struggle for true self-determination was far from over.