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PORTAL Journal of Multidisciplinary International Studies, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012.
Indian Ocean Traffic Special Issue, guest edited by Lola Sharon Davidson and Stephen Muecke.
ISSN: 1449-2490; http://epress.lib.uts.edu.au/ojs/index.php/portal
PORTAL is published under the auspices of UTSePress, Sydney, Australia.
From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific: Affranchis and Petits-
Blancs in New Caledonia
Karin Speedy, Macquarie University
The sugar crisis of 1860 in the Indian Ocean island of Réunion motivated the migration
of thousands of Réunionnais to New Caledonia in the Pacific. Along with sugar
planters, wealthy enough to transport their production equipment as well as their
indentured workers, significant groups of both skilled and unskilled labourers made
their way from Réunion to the Pacific colony in the second half of the nineteenth
century. In previous publications, I have focused my attention on the sugar industry and
the immigration of the rich planters and their coolies.1 While I have drawn attention to
the heterogeneity of the sugar workers and have signalled the arrival and numeric
importance of tradespeople, manual and low skilled workers from Réunion, I have not
yet described these immigrants in detail. This is because this group has been largely
ignored by history and details surrounding their circumstances are scant. In this paper, I
discuss the background and origins of these people and highlight some of the
fascinating stories to emerge from this migration to New Caledonia and beyond.
From the earliest days of French settlement, immigrants from the Indian Ocean island of
Réunion settled in New Caledonia. These ‘pioneers’ were generally involved in
agricultural activities, laying the foundations for the sugar and coffee industries that
would attract many of their compatriots in the coming years. In 1863, in a quest to
populate the nascent colony, New Caledonian Governor Guillain made a special appeal
1 For details see Speedy (2007a, 2007b, 2008, 2009).
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PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 2
to the ‘Créoles de la Réunion,’ 2 who were enduring great hardship following the sugar
crisis on their island. Once the Pacific lands were met with approval by the head of
Réunion’s exploratory expedition, Louis de Nas de Tourris, Réunionnais began arriving
en masse.3
In addition to the documented arrivals of wealthy sugar planters, often accompanied by
their contingent of engagés (indentured or contract workers), the ships’ lists published
in the Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie and the registers of the État Civil of
nineteenth century New Caledonia bear witness to the presence in the colony of a
substantial group of migrants who seem to belong neither to the wealthy class of
Grands Blancs nor to the ‘coolie’ population.4 Others, while perhaps entering the
colony as contract labourers for the sugar planters, were certainly not ‘Malabars’5 and
were quickly absorbed into New Caledonia’s free population once their contracts
terminated. These men and women lived on and around the sugar-producing centres of
southern New Caledonia or in Nouméa. Once the sugar industry collapsed from the late
1870s, there was a drift towards the capital. Other Réunionnais settled further north,
around Moindou, La Foa, Canala, Sarraméa, Nakéty, Houaïlou and Ponérihouen
(Speedy 2007a: 95–103).
Characteristics of the Immigrants
Aside from their occupations, which tended to be either in agriculture, trades or low-
skilled labour, this group shared other characteristics that indicate that they were
probably drawn from the ‘most ill-treated’6 of Réunion’s population who were
spiralling into moral decline and poverty (see Delignon 1898: 49). In other words, they
were either from the Affranchi (freed slave) population or the increasingly impoverished
Petits-Blancs. Some of the characteristics include their filiation—at times this was
2 In Réunion, the term Creole was and still is applied to anyone born on the island of White, Black or
mixed heritage but was not extended to later groups of immigrants such as the Indian engagés (Malabars),
Muslim Indians or Chinese (see Chaudenson 1992: 9).
3 For an account of Governor Guillain’s appeal to the Creoles of Réunion and Nas de Tourris’s report on
the suitability of New Caledonia’s lands for colonisation, see Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 6
November 1864, no. 267.
4 I consulted registers of the État Civil (registers of births, deaths and marriages) of Nouméa (1863–1899),
Dumbéa (1875-1898), Mont-d’Or (1879-1898) and Païta (1870-1899) at the Centre des Archives d’Outre-
Mer in Aix-en-Provence in 2005 and 2008. Unfortunately, due to their state of disrepair, I was not able to
consult many of the registers for Nouméa, including 1860–1862, 1875, 1878–1885, 1888–1890, 1892,
1893, 1895 and 1896. Future research may well uncover more Réunionnais living in New Caledonia and
shed more light on their backgrounds.
5 ‘Malabar’ is a term used in Réunion and New Caledonia to refer to non-Muslim Indians.
6 This and all other translations are my own.
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PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 3
‘unknown’ and a number were listed as enfants naturels (illegitimate children). For
others, the fact that their father had only one name that in turn became their family
name meant that they were undoubtedly born to slaves or ex-slaves. Elisa Ozénor,
Dame Ulice, for instance, who died in 1873 at the age of thirty-one, was the legitimate
child of Ozénor and Dalle.7 While many of this group married, often among themselves,
de facto relationships were also fairly common. The children born to unmarried couples
were generally recognised by their fathers although a few, such as Aline Antoine’s
daughters, took their unmarried mother’s surname.8 In addition, the court records
published in the Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, demonstrate that some members of
this group operated outside of the law. A few examples of the crimes committed by the
Réunionnais include theft, fraud, vagrancy, bootlegging, public drunkenness and public
indecency.9
In a few cases, the behaviour and indigence of certain migrants was such that it led
ultimately to their repatriation. Commenting on the unsuitability of some of the
Réunionnais and other free immigrants, Julien Bernier, prominent journalist in New
Caledonia and Réunionnais himself, wrote: ‘In Réunion, as in France, destitute and
marginalised town-dwellers were recruited far too easily. All these people did was come
here and give us the spectacle of their idleness before being repatriated as paupers’ (Le
Néo-Calédonien, 28 May 1884). However, many others were able to make new lives for
themselves in the Pacific. Lucien Delignon notes that the Réunionnais workers were
‘generally successful, when they conducted themselves honestly, thanks to their thrifty
and sober ways’ (1898: 49). And, in another article on free immigration, Julien Bernier
lauds the ‘Creole immigration’ of the 1860s and 1870s, pointing out that Réunionnais
could be found ‘everywhere in commerce, industry and even in the liberal professions’
and that their aptitudes in agriculture were particularly appreciated in New Caledonia
(Le Néo-Calédonien, 5 May 1884).
While Bernier criticizes the recruitment of impoverished urbanites, many of whom were
most likely Affranchis, he promotes a group of Réunionnais who, in his view, were
more apt to immigrate, namely the Petits-Blancs of the cirques:
7 DPPC EC NCL/NOUMEA/9 (1873).
8 DPPC EC NCL/DUMBEA/1 (1875-1886), DPPC EC NCL/NOUMEA/8 (1872).
9 See, for instance, Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 4 September 1872, no. 676 and Le Moniteur
de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 13 November 1872, no. 686.
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In Réunion, living up on the inland cirques, there are large numbers of people who are struggling
to survive by working the land. They live almost entirely on corn and consume only what they are
able to grow themselves. For these people, a twenty-four-hectare property, including four hectares
of prime land, in New Caledonia’s salubrious climate would represent a true fortune. (Le Néo-
Calédonien, 28 May 1884)
The Petits-Blancs too seem the target of the article published in Réunion’s local
newspaper on emigration to New Caledonia in 1868. At a time when Réunionnais
administrators were facing the problems of overpopulation, underemployment and
increasing poverty among the then practically landless poor whites, A. Marchand’s
letter calling for white immigration must have had some impact (Le Moniteur de la
Réunion, 10 June 1868). In 1870, the New Caledonian governor, Gaultier de la Richerie,
made an appeal for further Creole immigration to the Pacific, urging Réunionnais
already living in New Caledonia to tell their former compatriots that they would find
‘everything here that they do not have there, that is land where they can devote
themselves, in freedom and safety, to their agricultural, industrial or commercial
ventures’ (Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 28 August 1870). Many people
heeded these calls and, between 1867 and 1875, a second wave of Creole immigrants
disembarked in New Caledonia, ready to start their new lives (Speedy 2007a: 83–107).
Again, these migrants appeared to be from all walks of life and social backgrounds; they
were rural and urban, indentured and free, black, white and, most predominantly, métis.
Social classification
In an interesting parallel between the old Indian Ocean colony of Réunion and the
newest French colony in the Pacific, people were classified, not by the colour of their
skin, but by their social status. The complex nature of this classification in Réunion is
discussed below, where the essential distinction was made between free and servile
(slave and later engagé) populations. In New Caledonia, the division was made between
free, convict and indigenous populations. While the obvious ethnic difference in the
Réunionnais appearance did not go entirely unnoticed in New Caledonia – Monsignor
Vitte referred to them in 1874 as the ‘Bourbon mulattoes’10 and Christiane Terrier,
commenting on the phenomenon of the ‘melting-pot’ in New Caledonian free society,
notes that the Bourbonnais were reputed to be ‘nonchalant’ but more likely just a bit too
‘coloured’11—they were all classified as belonging to the local ‘white’ (free)
10 Quoted by Ehrhart (1994: 21). Note that the Réunionnais were often called Bourbonnais in nineteenth
century New Caledonia in reference to the island’s former name (Bourbon).
11 See Terrier (2000: 134) and Terrier-Douyère (1998: 378) for details.
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PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 5
population.
However, as evidenced by surviving photos of some Réunionnais immigrants such as
Jolimont Kabar (Angleviel & Milin 2004: 14), Charles Mitride (Delathière 2004: 91)
and the photos of some of the members of the Montrose and Florian families in this
article, many of the Réunionnais were not ‘biologically’ white. If the New Caledonian
tradition of the ‘non-dit’ (or the unspoken) means that we do not have much evidence of
overt racism against the Réunionnais, many of whom were black or metis, Christiane
Terrier’s comment about them being ‘too coloured’ rather than ‘nonchalant’ indicates
that, at least in the beginning, they perhaps felt somewhat excluded from New
Caledonian society and were inclined to group together. The first generation certainly
tended to intermarry, with 63 percent of the unions recorded in the registers of the État
Civil of southern New Caledonia involving two Réunion Islanders (Speedy 2007a: 104).
That many of the Réunionnais who arrived in New Caledonia were of mixed ethnic
heritage is not surprising given the particular socio-demographic history of Réunion.
Métissage is ‘very ancient, deep and widespread’ (Nicole 1996: 19) and ethnically
mixed people were found among the ruling and servile classes as well as among the
Petits-Blancs and Affranchis. In order to gain a greater understanding of the identities of
the Creole immigrants, it is therefore important to highlight something of the population
and social history of Réunion.
Social status and ethnicity in Réunion
Métissage has in fact been a feature of the socio-demographic history of Réunion since
the first Europeans arrived with their Malagasy and Indo-Portuguese partners and wives
in the late 1660s.12 The large majority of the first generation of Creoles, or locally-born
inhabitants, were métis and ethnic mixing continued as these children in turn chose
métis, Malagasy or Indian spouses from the limited pool of available partners on the
island. An acute shortage of women saw the importation from India of twelve Indo-
Portuguese women in 1678, all of whom were immediately married off to colonists. A
number of pirates, some Frenchmen and a few other men of different nationalities
subsequently settled on the island, but no more women arrived until 1718. The
population grew largely thanks to the fertility of the women who were married, often to
12 Information in this section is based on Barassin (1978), Bourquin (2005), Prudhomme (1984), and
Fuma (1998).
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PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 6
much older men, as soon as they reached puberty. They usually outlived several
husbands and lovers and bore large numbers of legitimate (and some illegitimate)
children.
Despite their mixed origins, the Creoles were classified as belonging to the white or
European population by virtue of their French family name. The Indian and Malagasy
partners of the French colonists were also included in the group. As slavery began to
take off in the eighteenth century, the main distinction between social groups became
that of slave and free. In his 1710 Mémoire pour servir à la connoissance particulière
de chacun des habitans de l’isle de Bourbon, Antoine Boucher gives several examples
of Malagasy or Indian wives inheriting their husband’s slaves. Perhaps the most striking
case is that of the ‘Negress of Madagascar,’ Anne Caze, widow of Gilles Launay, who
became mistress of fourteen slaves upon his death. Given that these slaves included her
sister Marguerite, two of her brothers-in-law and her nieces and nephews, it was
somewhat unsurprising that she was said to treat her slaves ‘like her own children’
(Barassin 1978: 64).
The move from a ‘homestead society’ to a ‘plantation society’ (Chaudenson 1992:
2003) with the growth of coffee production from around 1725 and later, towards the end
of the century, sugar, and the subsequent arrival of large numbers of slaves from
Madagascar, India, West Africa and Mozambique, meant that greater social distance
was created between the large land-holders on the one hand and the slaves on the other.
At the same time, the social distance became more acute between the landowners who
were able to capitalise on the shift towards a monoculture and those who, due to
population growth and heritage laws that saw their properties reduced to tiny,
unproductive lots, were not. From this point on, the Grands Blancs would dominate
Réunion’s economic and social development and the Petits-Blancs would become
increasingly impoverished and marginalised, eventually retreating to the Hauts.13
According to historian Daniel Vaxelaire, Réunionnais society differed from other
colonial societies due to the existence of an intermediary class made up of Petits-Blancs
and free people of colour. He writes:
13 The Hauts or the cirques in the centre of the island became the place of refuge for many Petits-Blancs
who had lost their lands to the large-scale coffee and then sugar growers. Maroon slaves had also
retreated to the mountainous, volcanic Hauts and, after the abolition of slavery in 1848, some freed slaves
also drifted to this area. The soils and conditions in the Hauts being far inferior to those along the
coastline, many Petits-Blancs and Affranchis faced starvation as they tried to survive off the land.
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Well before the abolition of slavery, Bourbon society differed greatly from the ‘model’ colonial
society. At the top of the social pyramid, not all landowners were white. At the bottom, not all
slaves were African. A rapidly growing middle or intermediary class was made up of two groups
of differing origins but who were drawing ever closer: the ‘free people of colour,’ freed slaves or
their descendants (amongst whom there was a large number of métis) and the ‘poor whites,’ a
group that was also more and more ethnically mixed. (quoted in Bollée 2007: 109)
Moreover, while a law did exist from 1674 prohibiting intermarriage between black and
white, it was somewhat irrelevant and most often ignored in a society built on
métissage. Historian Sudel Fuma’s (1998) research on Réunion’s État Civil and
documents concerning the emancipation of slaves before the general emancipation of
1848 demonstrates that this métissage continued throughout the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries. Aside from the common unions between masters and slave
women, which led in some cases to emancipation, and mixing between the Petits-Blancs
and free people of colour, Fuma (1998) outlines a family history that underlines the
fluidity between black and white in a society where notions of colour were firmly
attached to the concept of free and servile.
The Nicole family
The Nicole family descend from Olivier Nicole, a French sailor who worked on
commercial slave ships that journeyed between Nantes, Africa, Réunion and India; and
Melanie, an Indian slave of François Piveteau. Nicole, who had a wife in France, met
Melanie during one of his stays on Réunion and she became his mistress. Their first
child, Célestin, was born in 1795 and their second, Auguste, in 1797. Two other
children, Laurencine and Pierre-Charles dit Benoît, would follow. As their parents were
not married, the children did not have a French family name and were thus brought up
as Piveteau’s slaves until their mother was freed in 1814. All the children except Pierre-
Charles dit Benoît were emancipated with their mother. Curiously, the youngest son was
signed over to Melanie as her slave, and he retained this status until 1827 when the
governor signed an order permitting all people of colour who were effectively free to
become officially free.
In 1820, after the ship he was on was captured by the English for illegal slave trading,
Olivier Nicole settled in Réunion, living with Melanie in Saint-Denis where she had a
little shop. In 1831, Olivier (aged sixty-seven) and Melanie (aged sixty-two) finally
decided to legalise their union, marrying in Saint-Denis and recognising their three
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PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 8
children, Célestin, Auguste and Pierre-Charles dit Benoît.14 At this point, the children
took on their father’s surname and passed into the ‘white’ population, becoming
landowners with slaves of their own. Within their lifetimes, then, the Nicole children
were variously classified as slaves, Affranchis and white. The colour of their skin was
thus no barrier to belonging to any of the island’s social groups.
The abolition of slavery on Réunion
The general emancipation of Réunion’s slaves in 1848 had a huge impact on
demographic and social development on the island. The sudden removal of the free
labour provided by the slaves put sugar producers into a panic. This was assuaged to a
certain degree by Sarda Garriga’s order that all males freed in 1848, excepting those
with a trade or a parcel of land, had to enter into an obligatory work contract with their
former master.15 The supposed humanitarian grounds upon which this order was passed,
namely to protect Affranchis from exploitation from their former master, prevent
desertion of the workplace and keep public order by stopping vagrancy, could not hide
the real agenda at play.16 Affranchis were understandably reluctant to return to the
plantations and many escaped to the towns, became drifters or entered into fictitious
engagements with Petits-Blancs (Fuma 2000). By 1851, most of the forced
engagements had ended and plantation owners turned once again to foreign labour. The
massive importation of indentured labourers from India (80,000), Africa, the Comoros
Islands and Madagascar (40,000) began in earnest (Fuma 2001). While some Affranchis
continued to work as contract labourers on the plantations, most preferred to leave their
former masters to work as artisans, labourers or domestics in the towns (Bourquin 2005:
141). But work was not always easy to find and, while some Affranchis had become
landowners and were climbing the social ladder (Bourquin 2005: 146), others fell victim
to extreme poverty and struggled to survive in the towns. Out of desperation, large
numbers of women turned to prostitution and, as a result, syphilis became an increasing
health issue in Réunion (Fuma 2000).
For the Petits-Blancs still possessing land on the coast, the end of slavery meant the end
of any hope of maintaining their lands. The Métropole did not compensate them in a
14 Presumably Nicole’s French wife had died before then. Melanie’s daughter, Laurencine, was not
recognised and must have therefore had a different father.
15 This order was extended to women the following year in response to plantation owners’ complaints of a
gross shortage of domestic labour (Fuma 2000).
16 See Fuma (2001) for details.
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PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 9
timely or appropriate way and many were consequently unable to afford to pay engagés
to replace their slave labour. Most gave up, selling their land to the large landholders
and heading up into the Hauts or into Saint-Denis. Those who remained, became more
and more ostracised from ‘white’ society and devastatingly poor. The sugar crisis of the
1860s was the ultimate death knell for the few remaining Petits-Blancs of the Bas.17 At
this point, some chose to move into the towns, others went up into the Hauts and a few
elected to leave Réunion in search of greener pastures (Bourquin 2005: 138, 147–148).
Despite the continued métissage both in the Hauts, between the Petits-Blancs, Maroons
and, from 1848, the Affranchis, and in the poor neighbourhoods of Saint-Denis, the
Petits-Blancs clung on to what was becoming a progressively more obsolete view of
social stratification. In Réunion, land had always been important to wealth and social
status. As a landowner, one did not have to work and was therefore ‘free’ (and ‘white’).
According to Alexandre Bourquin, social rapports had also always been based on the
opposition between black and white. Blacks represented slavery and work and whites
represented liberty by virtue of possessing land (2005: 146). As the Petits-Blancs began
losing their land, they steadfastly refused to work so as to preserve their status as white.
The fact that some free people of colour were becoming landowners and, through hard
work, were becoming wealthy, somewhat disrupted the logic of the Petits-Blancs, but
for them working for a Grand Blanc meant renouncing their freedom. They vehemently
rejected the imposition of the livret de travail, resisting the authorities’ attempt to lump
them together with the newly free, and the introduction of black indentured workers
from India, Madagascar and Africa only reinforced their ever more distorted perception
of freedom. Declining to work for the rich sugar barons, they were unable to adjust to a
post-slavery sugar economy and found themselves excluded from their former social
group (Bourquin 2005: 132, 147, 151).18
Sugar workers in New Caledonia
The sociohistorical factors outlined above give us some useful insights into the
identities of the Réunionnais workers who chose to emigrate to New Caledonia. Given
the extreme reluctance of the Petits-Blancs to work for the Grands Blancs in Réunion, it
17 The Bas refers to the fertile coastal lands in Réunion.
18 Towards the end of the nineteenth century, once the importation of indentured overseas workers had
ended, some Petits-Blancs accepted to become sharecroppers on the rich planters’ lands. Some even
became sharecroppers on the lands of former slaves who had succeeded in working their way to the top of
the social pyramid (Bourquin 2005: 151, 254).
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seems highly unlikely that they were among the sugar workers who arrived in New
Caledonia with the wealthy sugar planters as engagés. While many of the engagés were
Indian or ‘Malabar,’ my research into this population showed that it was far more
heterogenous than previously thought (Speedy 2009). The registers of the État Civil and
information in the local newspapers indicate that some engagés were Malagasy or
African and their lack of surname (and often lack of known filiation) point towards
them having been imported indentured labourers in Réunion who had either not finished
their contract when their employer decided to emigrate or who had decided to recontract
to accompany him to New Caledonia. A few examples include Antoine, an engagé of
Evenor de Greslan in Dumbéa, described as an African of unknown filiation who
arrived in New Caledonia in 1865 and who died in 1868,19 Antoine, Malagasy, engagé
of Louis de Nas de Tourris whose filiation was unknown and who died in 1874 at the
age of twenty20 and Sahary, Cafre, an engagé of Jouhault who in 1875 had been on the
run for nearly two years from his employer (Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 8
December 1875).21
Alongside the Malagasy, African and Indian indentured workers, a number of Creoles
are described as engagés. Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, for instance, printed a
list of indentured workers who had absconded from their place of work and were still at
large in 1875.22 These included Henri-Alexandre Lachaise, Fortuné-Henri Lachaise,
Gasparin Larose, Pierre Antoine and Pierre Ély, all of whom were engagés of de Tourris
and whose ‘caste’ was described as Creole. Ernest Montrose, a Creole who had been
employed by Boyer, was also on the list, as was Émile Célestin, a ‘Bourbon’ who had
worked for Laurie at Canala.
Who might these Creoles have been? In Réunion, all those born on the island, regardless
of their ethnic makeup, were called Creoles. And this, all the way across the social
spectrum—so the richest landowners were Creoles as were their Réunion-born slaves
and so too were the Petits-Blancs and freed people of colour. During the nineteenth
century, this appellation was not extended to recent Indian migrants or the Chinese
19 DPPC EC NCL/NOUMEA/5 (1867–1868).
20 DPPC EC NCL/NOUMEA/10 (1874).
21 Cafre was a term employed in Réunion to designate slaves and later engagés from Africa (Nicole 1996:
31–31).
22 The list was published on 8 December 1875 and a supplement to the list, which included Ernest
Montrose, was published on 22 December 1875.
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(Nicole 1996: 32–35) so we can exclude these groups. As mentioned above, it is
unlikely that the Petits-Blancs would have entered into an indentured arrangement with
a Grand Blanc sugar planter as they would have perceived it as relinquishing both their
freedom and social status. It is most likely, then, that the Creole engagés were freed
people of colour.
This assertion is confirmed by checking the family names of the engagés against the
lists of surnames attributed to freed slaves between 1832 and 1848.23 These lists contain
the surnames given to slaves by their masters upon their emancipation, allowing slaves,
who until this point went by a single name only, to transmit a surname to their
children.24 While most of the names on the lists are those attributed to freed slaves, a
few belong to their spouses who may have been ‘white’ or freed people of colour. And,
despite official instructions to slave owners to avoid giving freed slaves a surname that
already existed in Réunion, some made errors. There were also surnames attributed to
the newly free in 1848 that had been attributed to freed slaves in the past.25 These
factors explain why old Réunionnais names such as Adam, Maillot and Robert appear
on the freed slave surname lists. Some may represent spouse names, others may have
been attributed to Affranchis either in error or simply due to a first name being chosen to
act as a surname which was already in use.
Despite the fact that these lists are incomplete, as a number of the 1848 registers of
emancipation ‘disappeared,’ and they do not take into account the names of slaves freed
prior to 1832, they can be used to indicate the presence in New Caledonia of a
significant number of Réunionnais from this particular social background. In Table 1
(see Appendix), in addition to identifying surnames given to Affranchis, I have indicated
whether the name appeared in Ricquebourg’s dictionary of old Réunionnais family
names. Even if we exclude the names that belonged to both ex-slave and ‘white’
populations, Table 1 demonstrates that a good portion of Réunionnais who immigrated
to New Caledonia were Affranchis or descendants of freed slaves. In fact, of the
Réunionnais family names I found in the registers of the État Civil in New Caledonia’s
23 See Patronymes attribués aux anciens esclaves affranchis (1832–1848) on the Cercle généalogique de
Bourbon website: http://www.cgb-reunion.org/les_bases/esclavages/esclaves.htm.
24 Slaves freed prior to the 1830s usually transformed their first name into a surname that they bestowed
on their children.
25 This was especially the case with first names that slave owners decided would become the slave’s
family name, as this practice had been common among emancipated slaves from the start.
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southern communes or in published sources, 44 percent figured on the Affranchi
surname lists. Given the large size of many Réunionnais families, the percentage of
freed slaves and their descendants in the actual Réunionnais migrant population may
well have been greater.
Interestingly, while the majority of the Affranchis of 1848 spurned a return to their
former master’s plantation, Sudel Fuma’s research shows that on average around 15
percent of the indentured sugar workers in Réunion in 1858 were Affranchis (Fuma
1983: 532–33). Some of these experienced ex-slaves may have in turn migrated to New
Caledonia to help set up the sugar industry in the early 1860s. However, the fact that the
Creole runaway engagés described in Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie of 1875
were aged seventeen to twenty-four, illustrates that descendants of Affranchis probably
represented a more important part of the immigration.26
It would seem, in the case of the younger engagés, that poverty and lack of prospects in
Réunion drove them to accept an indentured contract that saw them return to conditions
not dissimilar to the slavery their forebears had left behind. Perhaps it was seen as a
stepping-stone to greater opportunities in a new land? Or maybe it was the only way to
shake off the social exclusion that they felt in their native island as descendants of
slaves? The story of Ernest Montrose gives us some insight into the life of one of these
contract labourers.
Ernest Montrose: Creole, engagé and vanilla planter
Ernest Montrose was listed as an ‘engagé déserteur’ in Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-
Calédonie (22 December 1875). His description reads: ‘Ernest Montrose, Creole, aged
twenty-four, 1.6 metres tall, missing his two upper front teeth, engagé of Boyer at
Uaraï.’ This brief, impersonal record sounds like a wanted poster or a description of a
runaway slave and certainly piques the curiosity of a twentyfirst century reader. Who
was this man and what became of him? Thanks to the extensive genealogical research
undertaken by Pearl Montrose, his grandson’s wife, we can fill in some of the blanks.27
Born in 1852 to Jean-Baptiste Montrose and Anne Josephi Andrèze, Ernest and his three
26 With the exception of Pierre Ély, all of the other engagés’ names figure among those attributed to freed
slaves.
27 I would like to sincerely thank Pearl Montrose for her generosity in sharing her research with me. Pearl
kindly sent me birth, death and marriage certificates, census records, letters and photos of the Montrose
and Florian families which have allowed me to recount something of the life of one of New Caledonia's
Creole engagés.
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 13
siblings were legitimised by their parents’ marriage in 1855. The Montrose family had
been free for a few generations.28 His father was the son of Joseph Montrose and Marie
Jeanne Azariste Montauban. The Montauban family were freed people of colour from
Sainte Marie. Ernest’s great-grandfather, Jean Jacques Montauban, was classified in the
1820 census as a habitant or small-scale planter who grew coffee, corn and rice and
owned six slaves. Ernest’s great-grandmother, Joseph Montrose’s mother, was a slave
called Eleanor. While Ernest was certainly a free man of colour, he was not an Affranchi
of 1848. Indeed, his family had been landowners for quite some time. However, the
economic pressure that came with the expanding sugar industry, followed by the sugar
crisis of the 1860s, had a similar impact on the landowning free people of colour as it
had on the Petit-Blancs.
It is not known why Ernest decided to enter into an indentured contract and migrate to
New Caledonia. We can only imagine that his family lost their land and become
impoverished. He was perhaps adventurous and willing to sacrifice five years of
freedom for the chance at a better life in the Pacific. Whatever the case, his situation
must have been desperate for him to become an engagé. By 1875, though, he was an
engagé on the run. Whether he returned to Boyer’s property to finish his contract
remains undetermined.
At some time in the 1880s, Ernest made his way to Fiji where he leased some land from
the government and set up a vanilla plantation, the first in Fiji. His trials and tribulations
are set out in his fascinating correspondence with the government of Fiji. In his letters,
we catch glimpses of the man he was. His first letters from 1887 show his determination
to make something of himself by obtaining land to set up his plantation. He tells the
governor of Fiji about his extensive experience growing vanilla in Réunion and
describes his somewhat wretched current state. ‘Since my arrival in Fiji,’ he says, ‘I
have managed to find a few jobs and bring up my family. But today, in the current state
of the colony, I find that I am reduced to poverty and am seeking any way to get out of
this miserable position.’29 His solution is to obtain for rent, as cheaply as possible, ‘a
few acres in the vicinity of Suva’ so that he could finally ‘find a useful occupation’ and
28 His mother was the illegitimate daughter of Pen Andrèze who was likely to have been a freed slave.
29 Ernest Montrose to the Governor of Fiji, 21 November 1887. Original letter in French. The family that
Ernest mentions in this letter is certainly not the one he would have with Mathilde Florian ten years later.
He seems to have had a prior relationship with another woman and had children with her. Who they were
and what became of them is unknown.
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 14
‘work for the good of the colony.’30 In February 1888, the government granted Ernest
fifteen acres of land in Suva to be held by him as a tenant from year to year.31
In 1892, Ernest’s vanilla plantation was up and running but he had got himself into debt.
His request that the government lease him the land for twenty-one years and release him
from paying his rental arrears was firmly rejected by the Commissioner of Lands.32
Refusing to give up, in his reply Ernest writes proudly of his achievements in setting up
the first vanilla plantation in Fiji and points out to the governor that he is not a refugee,
perhaps in an attempt to distance himself from the ‘Malabar’ ex-engagés who fled New
Caledonia for Fiji in the 1880s (Speedy 2009: 138–139).33 Concerned for the welfare of
his family, for whom he could not provide if forced to pay back the debt, his letters get
progressively more poignant. In 1897, he ultimately asks the governor to accord him his
lands ‘in title of cession,’ a request that was again steadfastly refused.34
Undoubtedly a Creole speaker, Ernest wrote his first letters in very good French,
showing that he had been educated. Interestingly, after having lived in Fiji for a number
of years, Ernest began to write in English. The very French flavour of the English letters
(French syntax, style and word-for-word translation of set expressions) indicates that
Ernest had taught himself English (which, in one letter, he professed not to speak well
as he was ‘of French Nation’).35 Despite all his scrapes and misfortunes, Ernest was, it
seems, an intelligent man.
In 1897, while he was fighting for his plantation, he married Mathilde Florian. Ernest
was forty-four and Mathilde was sixteen and pregnant. What had become of his other
family is not known. Like Ernest, Mathilde came from a family of Affranchis from
Réunion. Born in Nouméa to Gaston Florian, carpenter, and Julia Festin, both
Réunionnais of freed slave descent, Mathilde had arrived in Fiji with her family in the
mid 1880s. In 1898, George Stanislaus Montrose was born to Mathilde and Ernest.
There is no information regarding what happened to Ernest’s plantation or to his
30 Ernest Montrose to the Governor of Fiji, 21 November 1887. Original letter in French.
31 The Colonial Secretary of the Colony of Fiji to Ernest Montrose, 16 February 1888.
32 Ernest Montrose to the Commissioner of Lands, 31 August 1892 and the Commissioner of Lands to
Ernest Montrose, 21 September 1892.
33 Ernest Montrose to the Governor of Fiji, 17 November 1892.
34 Ernest Montrose to the Governor of Fiji, 30 August 1897 and the Colonial Secretary to Ernest
Montrose, 4 September 1897.
35 Ernest Montrose to the Governor of Fiji, 30 August 1897.
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 15
relationship with his young wife. By 1908, Mathilde had left Fiji and Ernest and was
living in New Zealand with George. In 1908, she gave birth to another son, William
Clement Montrose, in Auckland.36 Mathilde then married Edgar Reginald Way in 1921.
William took his stepfather’s name once his mother had remarried. George Montrose
worked as a printer in Auckland. He married in 1923, had nine children and his
numerous descendants are scattered around New Zealand.37 Some of the Florian family
remained in Fiji, but most ended up in New Zealand or Australia.
Mathilde had given Ernest’s date of death as 1908 on her marriage certificate to Edgar
Way. This was, however, a fabrication. Ernest had left Fiji and was living in Tahiti by
the early 1900s. He remarried in 1903 or 1904 and died at seventy-seven years of age in
1929. His death certificate records him as a cultivateur (farmer) born in Réunion.38
While we can never know whether Ernest ultimately found his bonheur in his self-
imposed exile, his story highlights the movement of people and technology from the
Indian Ocean to the Pacific. As we learn from Ernest’s letters, he had considerable
experience growing vanilla in Réunion. If the family vanilla plantation was lost during
the sugar crisis, the knowhow was transported with Ernest to New Caledonia and then
on to Fiji and Tahiti. For Ernest, the decision to become an engagé was perhaps not the
worst one for he was eventually able to live as a free man again and pioneer vanilla-
growing in Fiji.
Mathilde and Maria Florian © Pearl Montrose, Hamilton, New Zealand, c. 1900.
36 Although he carried Ernest’s name, it is unlikely Ernest was his father.
37 His eldest son, George, was the late husband of Pearl Montrose.
38 Pearl Montrose, personal communication, 31 July 2010.
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 16
William, George and Mathilde Montrose (née Florian)
© Pearl Montrose, Hamilton, New Zealand, c. 1915.
Land: the key to success for many Creole immigrants to New Caledonia
Unlike Ernest Montrose, other Réunionnais workers, a good number of whom were free
people of colour, settled permanently in New Caledonia. Many shared Ernest’s
agricultural background and it was often through hard work and land ownership that
they were able to improve their destinies. One well-known example is the Kabar family,
famous for introducing lychees to New Caledonia. Jolimont Kabar and his wife Héloïse
Nézet arrived in the colony in 1868 with their nine children. Jolimont was listed as
having no profession in the passenger list of the Aveyron39 but, settling in Nouméa, he
worked as a pit sawyer and day labourer.40 Héloïse, like a number of other
Réunionnaises in Nouméa, helped supplement the family income through her work as a
seamstress.41 The family continued to grow and the Kabars moved to Ponérihouen
before obtaining some one hundred acres in Houaïlou. There Jolimont planted fruit and
coffee and, although conditions were difficult and the work was backbreaking, he
managed to provide for his eighteen children and develop his lands. Jolimont Kabar
died aged ninety-six and his descendants represent one of the largest families of New
Caledonia (Angleviel & Milin 2004: 14).
39 Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 31 May 1868, no. 453.
40 DPPC EC NCL/NOUMEA/5 (1867–1868), DPPC EC NCL/NOUMEA/5 (1869-1870).
41 DPPC EC NCL/NOUMEA/5 (1869–1870). The occupation of seamstress was extremely popular
among the female Affranchi population in Réunion (Fuma 2000) and in Mauritius (Allen 2005: 190).
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 17
The Mitride family, too, were descendants of freed slaves who settled in New Caledonia
and became integrated into white society through landownership. Charles Mitride, who
was a coal seller in Saint-Denis, his wife, Marie-Julie Angèle Zamor, and their son,
Charles Ludovic, arrived in New Caledonia in 1872. After initially working in the sugar
industry, the family lost everything in 1878 during the Kanak uprising. In the early
1880s, with the compensation they had received, they bought land at Sarraméa where
they raised their twenty-one children. Reputed for introducing both the flame tree and
the kaffir lime to New Caledonia, the Mitrides also put down their roots in their new
Pacific home, with their descendants forming another of New Caledonia’s largest
families.42
Other workers lived on and around the sugar-growing concessions in Dumbéa and
Mont-d’Or where land was leased to settlers in a sharecropping arrangement. Some
were Affranchis and others were Petits-Blancs. The Marists at Saint-Louis allowed
some ‘black or white’ families to settle on the mission lands and sugar planters Arthur
Duboisé and Numa Joubert advertised small farms for lease on their respective
properties for sugar cane cultivation.43 The idea was that the sharecroppers would then
supply the sugar mills at Nimba and Koé.
A few years after the death of sugar grower Ferdinand Joubert, his property at Koé was
put up for sale, including the lands and chattels leased to five sharecroppers, two of
whom were Petits-Blancs from Réunion, one a former Malabar engagé and the wife of
another a Réunionnaise free person of colour.44 While the Petits-Blancs were unlikely
to have been engagés for the large concession owners, the opportunity to grow sugar on
their own leased plot of land appeared to be more acceptable. Indeed, the New
Caledonia experience foreshadowed the colonat partiaire in Réunion that would see
some Petits-Blancs accepting to work as sharecroppers on the sugar plantations by the
end of the nineteenth century (Bourquin 2005: 240–242).
For the Petits-Blancs and the Affranchis, working on the land and leasing land were two
important avenues towards land ownership, the key to social success in New Caledonia.
42 For details see Delathière (2004: 91) and information on Charles Mitride on the Geneanet website:
http://gw5.geneanet.org/index.php3?b=trigalleau&lang=fr;p=charles;n=mitride.
43 See Ehrhart (1994 : 27), Le Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 5 June 1872, no. 663 and Le Moniteur
de la Nouvelle-Calédonie, 22 October 1873, no. 735.
44 See Speedy (2007a: 77–80) for details.
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 18
In the registers of the État Civil of southern New Caledonia, the occupations of farmer
and landowner were most prevalent, especially out of the capital. Planters and sugar
growers were also jobs for Réunionnais in the rural areas (Speedy 2007a: 108–10). With
some exceptions, notably in administrative roles in Nouméa,45 the Petits-Blancs
favoured farming, replicating their agricultural activities back home. The descendants of
the Affranchis, however, could be found in both rural and urban contexts.
Tradesmen and low-skilled workers
Alongside the agricultural occupations in the registers of the État Civil, Réunionnais
were listed as being employed in trades and low-skilled jobs in Nouméa as well as on
the sugar concessions. They were carpenters, joiners, coopers, launderers, road menders,
stone cutters, cooks, day labourers, mechanics, fishermen, seamstresses and milliners, to
name but a few of their professions. If the family names of some of these workers
indicate that they were most likely Petits-Blancs, the majority appear to be from the
freed slave group.
In Réunion, Creole slaves were often taught trades that set them up for a life outside the
plantation if they were freed. After the general emancipation of 1848, slaves worked in
trades or in blue-collar jobs, avoiding whenever possible a return to the master’s
property. As Helen Hintjens (2003: 109) observes, ‘[a] few hours of work a day as a
carpenter, mason, seamstress, office clerk, blacksmith, baker, or selling goods on the
road could yield a better return for the former slaves and their children than a month’s
hard plantation labor.’ One of the most popular jobs for freed slave women was that of
seamstress (Fuma 2000). The possession of a trade and the willingness to work meant
that Affranchis and Petits-Blancs were able to respond to New Caledonia’s need for
labour—agricultural, industrial and commercial.
A new colony and a new status
During the 1860s, the freed slave and poor white communities of Réunion were facing
increasing marginalisation and great misery. As new French citizens, the Affranchis and
their descendants were still living with the stigma of being ex-slaves and, despite the
on-going métissage, many continued to be treated as second-class citizens (Hintjens
2003: 108). The Petits-Blancs were progressively moving further away from their
45 See Speedy (2007a: 111) for details.
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 19
former social status as landowning whites and becoming ever more impoverished. The
situation for both groups was dire. The opportunity to migrate to a new colony,
desperately in need of settlers, entrepreneurs and workers, was one that some of the
more adventurous souls must have seen as an attractive option.
Bringing with them expertise in a number of industries and agricultural enterprises as
well as technical skills, the Affranchis and Petits-Blancs of Réunion were mostly
prepared for a life of hard work, helping to get a new colony moving forward in
exchange for a better social position. Some, such as Ernest Montrose and the Florian
family, moved on to establish themselves in other Pacific lands, a few failed to lead
suitably industrious and law-abiding existences and were repatriated, but most
Réunionnais stayed. Aside from escaping from poverty, the move to the Pacific allowed
two groups on the outer in their home island to become members of New Caledonia’s
free ‘white’ population and, over the years, their descendants have mixed with people of
diverse backgrounds to form an important part of the Caldoche population.
Appendix
Table 1: Surnames of Réunionnais immigrants to New Caledonia in the nineteenth century and
their social origins46
Family Name
Place of residence in
19th century New
Caledonia
Name listed as a
surname attributed to
freed slaves in Réunion
1832–1848
Name listed in
Ricquebourg’s
dictionary of family
names in Réunion
1665–1767
Adam
Dumbéa
Yes
Yes
Adam de Villiers
Dumbéa
Yes
Adèle
Dumbéa (Koé),
Nouméa
Yes
Adrien
Nouméa
Yes
Adrisse-
Desruisseaux
Nouméa
Yes
Aillaud+
?
Albaret
Canala
Yes
Alizart
Nouméa
46 This table was compiled from information contained in the registers of the État Civil of Nouméa,
Dumbéa, Mont-d’Or and Païta (1863–1899) that were available for consultation at the Centre des
Archives d’Outre-Mer, Aix-en-Provence in 2005 and 2008 (see note 4). Other names of Réunionnais
present in New Caledonia in the nineteenth century were found in the following printed sources: Le
Moniteur de la Nouvelle-Calédonie *, Chevalier (1997) +, O'Reilly (1953) ^, and Delathière (2004) #.
The freed slave names were sourced from Patronymes attribués aux anciens esclaves affranchis (1832–
1848): http://www.cgb-reunion.org/les_bases/esclavages/esclaves.htm and ‘old’ Réunionnais family
names were found in Ricquebourg (1976).
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 20
Amedée+
?
Yes
Amourdon+
?
Antoine
Dumbéa (Nimba, Koé)
Yes
Armand
Mont-d’Or
Yes
Balmain
Dumbéa (Koé)
Bataille
Nouméa
Yes
Beaucourt
Nouméa
Beck+
?
Bellanger+
?
Berconet
Nouméa
Bernier
Dumbéa, Nouméa
Berrouet
Nouméa
Bertin
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Botari+
?
Boucher
Nouméa
Yes
Bouillier^
?
Bourgine+
?
Bouvier
?
Yes
Bouyé / Bouyer /
Boyé
Dumbéa, Nouméa
Yes
Boyer
Mont-d’Or, Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Brajeul
Nakéty
Brevant+
Nakéty
Brevans
Broume+
?
Brulle+
?
Bruguier
Nouméa
Brunet+
?
Buttié
Nouméa
Cabrié
Mont-d’Or (La
Coulée)
Cadet+
?
Yes
Yes
Cahen
Nouméa
Calmel
Païta
Yes
Carré
Nouméa
Yes
Casineny+
?
Catan
Dumbéa (Koé)
Cazeaux
Nouméa
Yes
Cayla+
?
Cédrat
Nouméa
Yes
Célestin
Canala
Yes
Célières
Nouméa
Charlot
Païta
Yes
Chatel+
?
Chauvette
Nouméa
Chevalier
Ouaménie
Yes
Yes
Clain
Dumbéa (Nimba, Koé)
Yes
Yes
Clémenceau
Nouméa
Colette+
?
Yes
Cologon
Ouaménie
Yes
Combien+
?
Compins+
?
Cybou
Nouméa
Dalleau
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Dargaud
Nouméa
Yes
Darius
Nouméa
Yes
De Balmann
Nouméa, Ponerihouen
Yes
De Gaillande
Nouméa
De Greslan
Dumbéa (Nimba),
Yes
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 21
Nouméa
De Keranval-Aimé
Dumbéa, Nouméa
Yes
De Kervéguen
Ouaménie
De Nas de Tourris
Ouaménie, Nouméa
Yes
De Villeneuve
Dumbéa (Yahoué)
De Langlard
Païta
Delval
Dumbéa
Denage
Nouméa
Yes
Denis
Mont-d’Or (Saint-
Louis)
Yes
Dercourt
Nouméa
Yes
Deschamps
Nouméa
Yes
Desjardins
Nouméa
Yes
Desmaret+
?
Desruisseaux
Nouméa
Devaud
?
Dijou
Mont-d’Or, Saint
Vincent, Nouméa
Diomat
Ouaménie
Yes
Diovada+
?
Doussaniau+
?
Douyère
Païta
Yes
Dubain
Nouméa
Yes
Duboisé
Dumbéa (Nimba)
Dubuisson+
?
Yes
Durand
Nouméa
Yes
Elphège
Nouméa, Ouéga
Yes
Ély
Ouaménie
Equerre+
?
Yes
Falais
Nouméa
Faucher
Dumbéa
Yes
Fayet
Ouéga
Yes
Ferrand+
?
Yes
Ferand
Festin+
?
Yes
Firman
Dumbéa (Koé)
Yes
Florian
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Florimond
Nouméa
Yes
Foucher
Nouméa
Fouchey
Frias
Nouméa
Yes
Fritzgerald+
?
Fulbert+
?
Yes
Fulet
Nakéty
Fullet
?
Yes
Galland
Houagape
Yes
Garçon
Nouméa
Yes
Gezat
Houagape
Gillet+
?
Gillot (de) l’Étang
Poindimié
Yes
Gisnet
Nouméa
Yes
Gondin+
?
Goudin
Nouméa (Vallée du
Tir)
Gouët
Dumbéa, Nouméa
Gouthier
Nouméa
Grandidier
?
Yes
Gravini+
?
Grenier
Dumbéa (Koé),
Nouméa
Yes
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 22
Grondin
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Guerin+
?
Yes
Yes
Guichard
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Guilloteau
Nouméa
Gustave
?
Yes
Hacquard
Mont-d’Or
Héros
Nouméa (Vallée
Montravel)
Yes
Yes (but the line ended in
1794)
Heuvrond
Nouméa
Hopts / Ops
Dumbéa (Nimba, Koé)
Huet+
?
Yes
Imbault
Nouméa
Isnard
Nouméa
Jagda
Nouméa
Jeamissot+
?
Jean-Baptiste dit
Doudoute
Nouméa
Yes
Jolibois+
?
Yes
Jonquet
Nouméa
Joson
?
Yes
Kabar
Nouméa, Ponerihouen
Yes
Kichenin
Dumbéa (Koé),
Nouméa (Vallée des
Colons)
Yes
Laborie+
?
Yes
Lachaise
Ouaménie
Yes
Lafargue
Nouméa
Yes
Lamaison
Ouaménie
Lamarque+
?
Yes
Larose
Ouaménie
Yes
Latchimy
Dumbéa (Koé)
Lathumie
Nouméa, Dumbéa
Latouche
Nouméa
Yes
Lauratet
Nouméa
Lebon+
?
Yes
Yes
Lecomte+
?
Yes
Yes
Legac+
?
Le Roy
Nouméa
Yes
Lebihan / Le Bihan
Mont-d’Or (Saint-
Louis), Nouméa
Yes
Lepervenche
Ouaménie
Lepeut
Houagape (Wagap)
Le Richard+
?
Leriche / Le Riche
Nouméa, Dumbéa
Yes
Yes
Lorette
Nouméa
Yes
Louvet
Dumbéa (Koé)
Magnien de
Magnienville
Nouméa
Maillet+
?
Yes
Maillot
Dumbéa
Yes
Yes
Maillou+
?
Malignon+
?
Maradan
Nouméa
Yes
Marchand
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Marcus
Nouméa
Yes
Marsou+
?
Martin+
?
Yes
Maurin+
?
Yes
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 23
Mayana / Mayanna
Dumbéa
Mayanne
Médéries
Dumbéa (Koé)
Menon
Nouméa
Michel
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Micholin
?
Miquel+
?
Yes
Mitride#
Sarraméa
Yes
Montard
Nouméa
Montolard+
?
Montroze /
Montrose
Uaraï
Yes
Mourland+
?
Murch
Nouméa
Muret+
?
Yes
Nau
Canala
Nègre
Nouméa
Nézet
Nouméa, Ponerihouen
Yes
Nolet+
?
Orthasie
Dumbéa (Tonghoué),
Nouméa
Orthésie
Ovide
Ouaménie
Yes
Ozénor
Nouméa
Ozoux
Dumbéa (Koé, Koutio-
Kouéta), Nouméa
Yes
Patché
Dumbéa (Koé),
Nouméa
Patchez
Patrick+
?
Yes
Paul
Dumbéa
Yes
Payandy
Nouméa
Payet
Dumbéa, Nouméa
Yes
Péguillet
Nouméa
Perchard+
?
Pierrette+
?
Pietri+
?
Yes
Pillegrain+
?
Piveteau
Nouméa (Vallée
Montravel)
Pomadère
Nouméa
Pomader
Pouget+
?
Poutes
Païta
Prichenin
Mont-d’Or
Ragot+
?
Yes
Ramin / Ramain
Dumbéa
Rapadzi+^
Nouméa, Thio
Rayandi
Nouméa
Raynaud
Nouméa
Renaud
Mont-d’Or
Yes
Revercé^
Thio, Nouméa
Ricquebourg
Dumbéa
Yes
Rivet
Nouméa
Yes
Robert
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Rochard+
?
Yes
Roland+
?
Yes
Rolland+
?
Yes
Routier*
Ouaménie
Yes
Routier de Grandval
Poya
Yes
Sabry+
?
Samson+
?
Yes
Speedy From the Indian Ocean to the Pacific
PORTAL, vol. 9, no. 1, January 2012. 24
Sautron
?
Yes
Yes
Seisset+
?
Senonge+
?
Simon+
?
Yes
Stera+
?
St Lys
Nouméa
Yes
Sylvestre
Nouméa
Yes
Talon
Nouméa
Yes
Taochy+
?
Tardivel
Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Tassau+
?
Tauzin
Nouméa
Teissier+
?
Tendrias+
?
Thibault de
Chanvalon
Nouméa
Tournier
?
Turpin^
?
Yes
Yes
Vaubois
Nouméa
Vellon
Nouméa
Venant
Nouméa
Yes
Vergoz
Nouméa
Yes
Verite+
?
Vézard / Vézart+
?
Victor+
Yes
Vigneron+
Yes
Vincent
Dumbéa, Nouméa
Yes
Yes
Virte / Wirth
Païta
Vitorin+
Vivien+
Yes
Volsant+
Yes
Vlody
Nouméa
Yes
Wagner+
Zacharie
Nouméa
Yes
Zamor#
Sarraméa
Yes
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