This introductory chapter provides an overview of the origins of the West India Regiments in the late eighteenth-century Caribbean. It then introduces key concepts that will be used throughout the book, especially that of ’military spectacle’ (from Scott Myerly) as well as ’martial hybridity’, which is a take on Homi Bhabha’s formulation. The chapter goes on to argue that the Black soldiers of the regiments are an important but hitherto ignored feature in what Catherine Hall termed the ’war of representation’ that was fought over slavery and the image of people of African descent. It ends by outlining the structure of the rest of the book.

This chapter examines the effort against the establishment of the West India Regiments in the 1790s. The spectre of insurrection in Saint-Domingue was a constant presence and critics of the regiments frequently likened them to Haitian soldiers, formerly enslaved insurgents, Maroons and other ‘brigands’ that opposed the British across the Caribbean in this period. Yet, White West Indians were not opposed to the arming of African men per se but favoured the use of irregular ‘black shot’, a form of military service that remained constrained by the bonds of slavery. In this way, the chapter not only explores the deeply held prejudices and phobias that made the West India Regiments so feared but also the contradictions in White West Indian and broader pro-slavery thought revealed by attitudes to military service.

This chapter considers a key change in the military spectacle of the West India Regiments in the mid-to-late 1850s when the uniform for all ranks below commissioned officer was altered to one inspired by France’s Zouave forces. Representing a form of martial rebranding, this was a dramatic shift that ended the policy of using the same basic uniforms as other British Foot Regiments. Two interpretive frames for this ‘Zouavisation’ of the West India Regiments are offered. First, there was a desire to emulate and replicate the picturesque valour that the French Zouaves had displayed in the Crimean War, a sentiment strongly expressed by Queen Victoria herself. Second, there was an effort to assign uniforms that were more sensitive to the local conditions in which British military units operated. In the case of the West India Regiments, this policy served to inscribe racial differences between troops, as demonstrated by the fact that the officers of the regiments were not required to wear Zouave-style uniforms. This change reflected shifting ideas about people of African descent, as well as about tropicality, in this period.

The concluding Chapter 8 examines the commemorative afterlives of the West India Regiments in Britain and the Caribbean. Placing this within the wider context of the centenary of the First World War, including the ’culture wars’ that have occurred around how the British Empire is remembered, the chapter considers the acquisition, creation and display of the regiments’ material culture.

Chapter 6 is concerned with the role of the West India Regiments in maintaining and expanding Britain’s African empire in the final decades of the nineteenth century. The particular focus is the 1873-74 Anglo-Asante War, the first colonial campaign to capture the British public’s imagination and one which made a household name of commanding officer Garnet Joseph Wolseley (1833-1913). The Asante were among Britain’s most consistent antagonists in the imperial theatre and held a long-standing place within European discourses of African ‘savagery’. Warfare against them was cast as an interracial struggle. However, the involvement of the West India Regiments complicated this picture and the chapter compares the depiction of the regiments’ soldiers with that of Britain’s Asante enemies and local Fante allies. It also considers the military role allotted to the West India Regiment soldiers as the campaign developed, including the fact that they were used as baggage-handlers for the White regiments during the final march on Kumasi and were not permitted to enter the Asante capital. This shows that the way in which their constrained martial image, such that they were neither White ‘soldiers’ nor African ‘warriors’, had consequences in the military field.

Even after the soldiers of the West India Regiments helped to suppress enslaved uprisings in Barbados (1816) and Demerara (1823), they continued to be objects of suspicion. This chapter examines the efforts that commanding officers and supporters of the regiments made to challenge such opposition by seeking to manage the image of their Black soldiers and portray them in a favourable light. What emerged was the ‘steady Black soldier’, an ambiguous racial-martial figure that was simultaneously soldierly yet passive. This theme is explored through both the predominant representation of the soldiers as standing ‘ready for inspection’ and the elision of any active military role. This image is placed in the context of wider debates about the figure of the Black subject that characterised the contemporaneous controversy over slavery and it will be argued that the steady Black soldier represents the military equivalent to the kneeling enslaved figure promulgated by anti-slavery advocates.

Chapter 7 looks at the place of the final remaining West India Regiment within the mass militarised culture of late nineteenth-century Britain. The first book-length regimental histories date from this period. Written by men who had served in the 1873-74 Anglo-Asante War as junior officers, these histories offered more celebratory accounts of the West India Regiments and represented an effort to secure the status and historical legacy of the units. A particular focus of the chapter is the Diamond Jubilee of 1897 when representatives of the regiment were present in London. The coverage they received, as well as their depiction in popular cultural forms, serves to reveal their exclusion from a British Army that was rendered White and metropolitan at this apogee of a racially inflected imperial culture. As such, the partial equality that had been granted to their Black soldiers when they were created a century earlier was symbolically undone.

This chapter focuses on the depiction of the first African-Caribbean man to receive the Victoria Cross, Samuel Hodge (c.1840-68) of the 4th WIR. In 1866, Hodge was serving in West Africa when his unit was involved in an assault against a stockaded village close to the River Gambia. For his bravery in breaching the defences, he was awarded Britain’s highest military honour, though he died of his wounds in early 1868. Hodge appeared in The Capture of Tubabakolong, Gambia, 1866, by the English artist Louis William Desanges (1822-87). Desanges was best known for his paintings of Victoria Cross winners, which were among the most familiar depictions of contemporary warfare. As such, Desanges did much to visually express the growing middle-class militarism and patriotism that characterised mid-century Britain. The chapter analyses the depiction of Hodge by Desanges, comparing it with the imagery of other Victoria Cross heroes, as well as written accounts. It shows that with the steady Black soldier dominating the image of the West India Regiments, Hodge’s valour could only be represented in highly circumscribed ways.

The word ‘keeper’ has been used for centuries in connection with managed green spaces. The Oxford English Dictionary quotes John Heywood's use of the word in 1530, referring to ‘rangers and keepers of certayne places as forests, parkes, purlewes and chasys’, and aligns the word in this context with others signifying a position of primary responsibility, analogous to the Keeper of the Privy Seal. It was a technical and managerial role associated with maintenance of a park and its stock.

With the development of public parks in the mid-19th century the term was adopted to new use. By 1855 ‘park keeper’ could be used merely to signify someone who manned the gates. During the initial period of public park development, the term was used alongside others with various nuances of seniority and responsibility. As W W Pettigrew, parks superintendent in Manchester (1914–32), put it in his 1937 book, Municipal Parks: Layout, Management and Administration:

Divergence between local authorities is nothing new, but this inconsistency, viewed from the early 20th century, also reflects the development of public parks management. There were simply no management models or structures available in the early period: nothing like free public access to high-quality horticulture had ever been attempted before.

The potential difficulties were little understood. Within a month of the opening of Manchester's first three public parks in 1846, the public parks committee was hastily assembling regulations, signage and additional staff, the need for which had not been foreseen. Incredibly, ‘no one had been made responsible for the management of the parks and the necessity for such action seems to have taken the committee by surprise’.