Document

Helen Thomas' study opens a new avenue for Romantic literary
studies by exploring connections with literature produced by

slaves, slave owners, abolitionists and radical dissenters between
1770 and 1830. In the ®rst major attempt to relate canonical
Romantic texts to the writings of the African diaspora, she
investigates English literary Romanticism in the context of a
transatlantic culture, and African culture in the context of
eighteenth-century Britain. In so doing, the book reveals an
intertextual dialogue between two diverse yet equally rich
cultural spheres, and their corresponding systems of thought,
epistemology and expression. Showing how marginalised slaves
and alienated radical dissenters contributed to transatlantic
debates over civil and religious liberties, Helen Thomas remaps
Romantic literature on this broader canvas of cultural ex-
changes, geographical migrations and identity-transformation,
in the years before and after the abolition of the slave trade.
h e l e n t h o m a s is lecturer in English at Queen Mary and

West®eld College, University of London. She has published an
essay in Gender and Catastrophe (1997), various articles and reviews in
Wasa®ri, Literature of the African World and Stand Magazine and is
currently preparing a book on Caryl Phillips.
cambridge studies in romanticism 38
RO M A N T I C I S M A N D
S L AV E N A R R AT I V E S
cambridge studies in romanticism
General editors
Professor Marilyn Butler Professor James Chandler

University of Oxford University of Chicago
Editorial board
John Barrell, University of York
Paul Hamilton, University of London
Mary Jacobus, Cornell University
Kenneth Johnston, Indiana University
Alan Liu, University of California, Santa Barbara
Jerome McGann, University of Virginia
David Simpson, University of California, Davis
This series aims to foster the best new work in one of the most challenging
®elds within English literary studies. From the early 1780s to the early 1830s
a formidable array of talented men and women took to literary com-
position, not just in poetry, which some of them famously transformed, but
in many modes of writing. The expansion of publishing created new
opportunities for writers, and the political stakes of what they wrote were
raised again by what Wordsworth called those `great national events' that
were àlmost daily taking place': the French Revolution, the Napoleonic
and American wars, urbanisation, industrialisation, religious revival, an
expanded empire abroad and the reform movement at home. This was an
enormous ambition, even when it pretended otherwise. The relations
between science, philosophy, religion and literature were reworked in texts
such as Frankenstein and Biographia Literaria; gender relations in A Vindication
of the Rights of Woman and Don Juan; journalism by Cobbett and Hazlitt;
poetic form, content and style by the Lake School and the Cockney School.
Outside Shakespeare studies, probably no body of writing has produced
such a wealth of response or done so much to shape the responses of
modern criticism. This indeed is the period that saw the emergence of
those notions of `literature' and of literary history, especially national
literary history, on which modern scholarship in English has been founded.
The categories produced by Romanticism have also been challenged by
recent historicist arguments. The task of the series is to engage both with a
challenging corpus of Romantic writings and with the changing ®eld of
criticism they have helped to shape. As with other literary series published
by Cambridge, this one will represent the work of both younger and more
established scholars, on either side of the Atlantic and elsewhere.
For a complete list of titles published see end of book.

This Page Intentionally Left Blank
ROMANTICISM AND
SLAVE NARRATIVES
Transatlantic Testimonies
PUBLISHED BY CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS (VIRTUAL PUBLISHING)
FOR AND ON BEHALF OF THE PRESS SYNDICATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE
The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge CB2 IRP
40 West 20th Street, New York, NY 10011-4211, USA
477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia
http://www.cambridge.org
© Helen Thomas 2000

This edition © Helen Thomas 2003
First published in printed format 2000
A catalogue record for the original printed book is available

from the British Library and from the Library of Congress
Original ISBN 0 521 66234 6 hardback
ISBN 0 511 01058 3 virtual (netLibrary Edition)

To Hugo, Felix and Claude
If not If not If
Not
If not in yours
In whose
In whose language
Am I
Marlene Nourbese Philip, `Meditations on the Declensions of

Beauty by the Girl with the Flying Cheek Bones'
Contents
List of illustrations x
Acknowledgements xi
Introduction 1
part i
1 The English slave trade and abolitionism 17
2 Radical dissent and spiritual autobiography
Joanna Southcott, John Newton and William Cowper 48
3 Romanticism and abolitionism: Mary Wollstonecraft, William
Blake, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth 82
4 Cross-cultural contact: John Stedman, Thomas Jefferson
and the slaves 125
part ii
5 The diasporic identity: language and the paradigms of
liberation 157
6 The early slave narratives: Jupiter Hammon, John Marrant
and Ottobah Gronniosaw 167
7 Phillis Wheatley: poems and letters 201
8 Olaudah Equiano's Interesting Narrative 226
9 Robert Wedderburn and mulatto discourse 255
Notes 272
Index 324
ix
Illustrations
1 Sir John Hawkins' Crest. Mary W. S. Hawkins, Plymouth page 16

Armada Heroes: The Hawkins Family. Plymouth: William
Brendon and Son, 1888. By permission of the British
Library.
2 Map of Guinea. William Snelgrave, A New Account of 18
Some Parts of Guinea and the Slave Trade. London, 1734.
3 Mole® Kete Asante, Àfrican Elements in African- 165
American English', Africanisms in American Culture, ed.
Joseph Holloway. Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 1990.
4 Frontispiece, Phillis Wheatley, Poems on Various Subjects, 202
Religious and Moral. London, 1773.
5 Frontispiece, The Interesting Life of Olaudah Equiano, or 227
Gustavus Vassa, the African. Halifax: J. Nicholson, 1814.
x
Acknowledgements
Over the past few years I have become increasingly convinced that
research, in so far as I am involved in it, functions as a kind of
displaced autobiography in which the boundaries between the
subject who does the researching (myself ) and the subject of the
narrative (this study) are in fact permeable. Since we may assume
that the self has no meaning without the concept of others, then this
displaced àutobiographical' study is indebted to the continued
support, enthusiasm and expertise of several òthers', although I take
full responsibility for any mistakes or errors contained herein.
For their professional help and generosity, especially during the
late stages of this book, I would like to thank all the staff at the
British Library, both at Bloomsbury and St Pancras. I would also like
to thank Cora Kaplan, Alan Richardson, Moira Ferguson, Lucy
Newlyn, Robert Young and Paul Hamilton for their invaluable
comments, advice and suggestions for this work during its various,
sometimes digressive, stages; and for their patience and good-
humour, Geoff Cox, Victoria de Rijke and the staff and students at
the School of Humanities at Oxford Brookes University, most
especially, Ron Hammond, Nigel Messenger, Paul O'Flinn, Helen
Kidd and John Perkins. For his unhesitating support throughout the
various drafts of this book I would especially like to thank Hugo de
Rijke. And ®nally, for patiently waiting before making their entrance
into the world, I must thank my sons: Felix and Claude.
xi
Introduction
A plan having been laid before the King, for sending out of this
Country a Number of Black Poor (many of whom have been
discharged from His Majesty's Naval Service at the Conclusion
of the Late War, and others after having been employed with
the Army in North America) who have since their Arrival in
England been reduced to the greatest distress, in order that a
Settlement may be formed in or near the River Sierra Leona,
in the Coast of Africa.1
In 1782, 350 British convicts were sent to the west coast of Africa and
used as soldiers on the huge slave fortresses where African captives
were detained before being shipped across the Atlantic. Four years
later, in an effort to relieve its overcrowded prisons, the British
government considered a plan to transport convicts to Sierra Leone.
Following the investigations of the Parliamentary Committee on
Convict Transportation, however, the plan was rejected, since given
the advice of the botanist and naval of®cer Henry Smeathman, it
was estimated that Sierra Leone's hostile climate would accelerate
the number of convict mortalities to a rate of 100 per month.2
Botany Bay was chosen in preference to Sierra Leone, thus estab-
lishing a route of involuntary transportation of criminals from
England to the Australian continent at a crucial moment in Britain's
colonial history.
But there soon occurred an unprecedented historical development
in the relations between England and Africa. The racial ideology
which had underpinned the capture, transportation and enslavement
of generations of Africans by British slavers was compounded by a
government plan to relocate Africans to the British colony of Sierra
Leone. Within a year of his contact with the Parliamentary Com-
mittee on Convict Transportation, Smeathman wrote to the Com-
mittee for the Relief of the Black Poor in February 1786, offering to
1
2 Introduction
take responsibility for their charges and transport them at a cost of
£14 per head to a settlement in Sierra Leone. At this time there
were approximately 20,000 blacks in London, including a number
of black loyalists (mainly runaway slaves) who had recently fought
for Britain during the American War of Independence. Smeathman
described the proposed Sierra Leone settlement, called the
`Province of Freedom', as `®t and proper for their Establishment'
within the `pleasant and fertile' land of Sierra Leone.3 What had
been rejected as a fatal location for white convicts was, according
to Smeathman, an excellent situation for those blacks presently
residing in England. Emphasising the commercial viabilities of his
scheme, Smeathman's Plan of a Settlement to Be Made Near the Sierra
Leona, on the Grain Coast of Africa (1786) suggested that any initial
®nancial outlay would be easily recompensed by the initiation of
new channels of trade with Africa. Granville Sharp, founder of the
Committee for the Relief of the Black Poor and also the Committee
for the Purpose of Effecting the Abolition of the Slave Trade,
approved the scheme. He went on to stipulate the advantages of
the resettlement plan and its colonial implications in two of his
publications: Regulations for the New Settlement in Sierra Leone (1786) and
Free English Territory in Africa (1790). The Treasury, keen to cultivate
colonialist commercial ventures that would yield the riches of
Africa, duly agreed to the plan and accepted ®nancial responsi-
bility.
Sierra Leone was not entirely new territory to the British govern-
ment. It had been `mapped' over two centuries earlier in 1562 when
Sir John Hawkins, the entrepreneur sponsored by Queen Elizabeth
I, sailed to Sierra Leone and returned with 300 `borrowed' Africans.
In subsequent years, more Africans were brought to England, where
they became fashionable household accessories, servants, prostitutes
and entertainers. A century later, in 1663, Charles II chartered the
Royal Adventurers, who built forts in the Sherbo and on Tasso
Island of Sierra Leone. In 1753, the slave trader John Newton (who
later testi®ed against the slave trade), passed a year of misery on the
Plantain Islands, south-east of Sierra Leone. Henry Smeathman
himself visited Sierra Leone in 1771 to gather botanical specimens for
his collectors in London.
Despite the concerted efforts of the Committee for the Relief of
the Black Poor to attract black settlers to the scheme, few signed up.
Firmer action was decided upon and in October 1786 the Com-
Introduction 3
mittee declared that it would only give ®nancial aid to those
`volunteering' to resettle in Sierra Leone.4 Eventually, orders were
given by the Committee and the City authorities to round up black
beggars and `reconcile them to the plan proposed by the Govern-
ment' by sending them to the new African colony where they would
have the `protection' of the British government.5 As Moira Ferguson
notes, this large-scale effort to remove Africans illustrated Britain's
refusal to deal with the wider issues of blacks' right to freedom and
other basic human rights recognised by the Court of the King's
Bench in the landmark Somerset case of 1772, which held that the
escaped slave, James Somerset, could not be forcibly returned by his
master to the plantations in Jamaica.6
By the end of October 1786 the transport ships Atlantic, Belisarius
and Vernon (escorted by HMS Nautilus) were commissioned by the
Navy Board and were docked at Deptford in South London, ready
to take the prospective settlers to Sierra Leone. Each settler had
been given a document granting him/her free citizenship of the
`Colony of Sierra Leone or the Land of Freedom'. Yet of the 700
settlers who originally agreed to the scheme, only 259 were on board
by the end of November. Seventy of these were white female
prostitutes from London, who, it was claimed, had been intoxicated
and tricked onto the ships. After an outbreak of fever in February
1787, the convoy of ships eventually set sail but a storm in the
channel disabled two of the ships and forced the others to return to
port. Those who continued their journey, including ®fty-nine white
and forty-one black women, eventually arrived at Frenchman's Bay
in Sierra Leone in May 1787.7
Within three months of their arrival, a third of the party had died.
By March 1788, only 130 were alive. The promises of abundant land
and the prospects of lawful trade were replaced by the stark realities
of disease, death, infertile soils and hostile attacks from native rulers
who challenged the settlers' claims of land ownership. Determined
to make the scheme a public success, Granville Sharp (who advised
the defence counsel in the Somerset case) arranged to send out
another party to Sierra Leone in 1791, two of whom were English
doctors. `Granville Town', named in honour of Sharp's pioneering
work, was burnt down by the local ruler, Jimmy, in retaliation
against the Sierra Leone Company's violations on his territory.
In March 1792, assisted by Sharp and his replacement Henry
Thornton (of the Sierra Leone Company) and funded by the British
4 Introduction
government at a cost of £9,000, over 1000 former American slaves
sailed to Sierra Leone from Nova Scotia. These ex-slaves had been
moved to temporary homes in Nova Scotia, after having fought for
Britain in the American War of Independence, and were thereafter
lured to Sierra Leone by the promise of land.8
In 1787, the same year in which the ®rst black `British' party of
settlers arrived in Sierra Leone, two of a number of politically visible
Africans in London, Olaudah Equiano and Ottobah Cugoano,
published vehement criticisms of the scheme. Cugoano's Thoughts and
Sentiments on the Evil and Wicked Traf®c of the Slavery and Commerce of the
Human Species Humbly Submitted to the Inhabitants of Great Britain (1787)
highlighted the fact that the prospect of setting up a free colony for
Great Britain had `neither altogether met with the credulous
approbation of the Africans here, nor yet been sought after with any
prudent and right plan by the promoters of it'.9 Even more critically,
in a letter to Cugoano which was published in the Public Advertiser of
4 April 1787, Equiano denounced the credibility of members of the
Committee who had replaced Smeathman after his death: Ì am sure
Irwin, and Fraser the Parson, are great villains, and Dr Currie. I am
exceeding much grieved at the conduct of those who call themselves
gentlemen. They now mean to serve (or use) the blacks the same as
they do in the West Indies'.10 Likewise, two former Nova Scotian
black settlers, Cato Perkins and Isaac Anderson, made the journey to
Sierra Leone and later departed for London, where they criticised
John Clarkson over the false promises `you [Clarkson] made us in
Nova Scotia' and bitterly complained about the pernicious misman-
agement of the Sierra Leone Company.11
By the late 1780s, therefore, local and parliamentary debates
concerning slavery, colonialist projects, land disputes and negotia-
tions, repatriation schemes, enforced transportations (of blacks,
whites, convicts and prostitutes) and programmes concerning racial
eradication, emancipation and resettlement, were high on the
agenda. Blacks themselves were contributing to these and to funda-
mental discourses over civil rights and liberties during the most
productive period of Romantic literature (1770±1830). By the late
1780s the migrations of peoples between Africa, the Americas and
Britain had been ®rmly established and texts produced by black and
dissenting authors had begun to penetrate the literary sphere. This
book attempts to open new vistas for Romantic studies by indicating
the ways in which it can be brought into contact with transatlantic
Introduction 5
and black Atlantic studies. In this way, Mary Louise Pratt's sense of
Romanticism as growing out of the `contact zone' between Europe
and the colonial frontier may be extended to include the space in
which black Atlantic subjects and their texts met, `clashed and
grappled' with the worlds of Europe and the Americas. 12 Accord-
ingly, this book endeavours to disclose a hitherto obscured dialogue
of exchange and negotiation: that is, between the discourse of
Romanticism as it emerged out of eighteenth-century dissent and
enthusiasm, and the narratives of displaced subjects, the slaves from
the African diaspora. As a consequence, it manifests a signi®cant
challenge to concepts of Romanticism which continue to hold the
revolutions in France and America at their centre and endeavours
instead to prioritise the slaves' rebellions, both literary and actual,
upon the emerging autobiographical genre. By foregrounding the
ways in which marginalised slaves and alienated radical dissenters
contributed to transatlantic debates over civil and religious liberties,
Romantic writing is recontextualised against a broader canvas of
cultural exchanges, geographical migrations and displaced identities.
This book therefore investigates Romanticism in the context of
transatlantic western culture and African culture in eighteenth-
century Britain. Its predominant theme resides in the intersection,
intervention and interaction between these two diverse, yet equally
rich, cultural spheres and their corresponding systems of thought,
epistemology and articulation: the transcultural, restless mutations
and clashes of African and western philosophies, ideologies and
practices which distinguished the late eighteenth century.13 It inves-
tigates the ways in which such movements were negotiated, compro-
mised and actualised by asking a series of linked questions. In what
ways did Romanticism re¯ect or challenge Britain's participation in
the slave trade? In what ways did the strategies employed by
eighteenth-century radicals, mis®ts and/or the sociopolitically mar-
ginalised resemble those used by Africans upon their entry into the
west? How did Africans articulate difference, dissidence or confor-
mity in the years prior to and following the abolition of the slave
trade? And ®nally, what is the connection between the seemingly
disparate discourses of `Romanticism' and the narratives published
in England between 1770 and 1830 by ex-slaves from Africa and the
colonies?14
A heterogeneous selection of canonical and marginalised untradi-
tional works by white `British', black `British' and Anglo-American
6 Introduction
authors are analysed in terms of their distinct and often challenging
efforts to construct and advance diverse formulations of identity.
Methodism's early transatlantic connections are set up alongside the
`black Atlantic', an entity which has been de®ned as the `hybrid
sphere of black culture within Africa, America, the Caribbean and
Europe'.15 Using a synthesis of archival material and theoretical
application, these works are presented as articulate expressions of
self/cultural-consciousness and located within the context of
eighteenth-century religious and political dissent. It is hoped that
this examination of the slave narratives within the context of
Romanticism will acknowledge the emergence of a culturally hybrid
black diaspora. Within the context of this book, the term `diaspora'
is used to describe the common historical processes of dispersal,
fragmentation, displacement, enslavement and transportation ex-
perienced by African peoples and their descendants, experiences
which uni®ed such peoples at the same time as cutting them off from
direct access to their past.16 In this sense therefore, `diaspora' as Jim
Clifford has argued, functions not simply as a signi®er of historically
spatial ¯uidity and intentionality of identity but also of the endea-
vours to de®ne a `distinctive community' within historical contexts of
displacement.17 This book accordingly investigates the literary
relationship between the black diaspora and its host community. It
revisits and extends de®nitions proposed by postcolonialist critics
and cultural theorists which suggest that all forms of culture are in
some way related to one another as `symbol-forming' and `subject-
constituting, interpellative practices'.18 The liberating connotations
of cultural `hybridities' here reciprocate the complex mechanisms of
`translation' and correlate with the interdependent processes of
`displacement' within the linguistic sign and the necessarily plura-
listic concepts of subjectivity:
If . . . the act of cultural translation (both as representation and as
reproduction) denies the essentialism of a prior given original or originary
culture, then we see all forms of culture are continually in a process of
hybridity . . . Hybridity to me is the `third space' which enables other
positions to emerge.19
In other words, this study extends the concept of cultural hybridity

to the concept of cultural intertextuality. It is concerned with texts
which witness a process of movement and negotiation between
cultures. But in order for cultural intertextualities to succeed (that is,
Introduction 7
in order that the works of ex-slaves were read) particular forms of
discourse were adopted so as to advance not only a `sign' of
assimilation with the host culture but also transformation of it. For
poststructuralist critics such as Michel Foucault and Paul de Man,
the concept of `discourse' registers an ordering, or transposition of
`reality' onto convenient constructions or representations that are
not necessarily dependent upon that reality; the production of
systems of language in which utterances and texts, regardless of their
factual status, differ according to the social and cultural context
from which they emerge.20 In its provision of a free signi®er, the
protean quality of what I have termed the `discourse of the spirit'
initiated by radical dissenting Protestantism facilitated the slaves'
entry into the dominant literary order, an entry otherwise obstructed
by restrictive legal and socioeconomic conditions. Establishing a
process by which the slave's identity was liberated from the condi-
tions imposed upon it by others, the discourse of the spirit identi®ed
the role of the slave in the black diaspora as sanctioned by a spiritual
entity whose power was considered both impregnable and absolute.
This discourse not only denied the possibility of a straightforward
literal use of language but also enabled a form of cultural exchange
between Christian and African belief systems: whilst the slave-
narratives were obliged to present an acceptable form of `x' (evi-
dence of the workings of the holy spirit as maintained by radical
dissenting Protestantism), they simultaneously revealed `y' (a raw but
coherent form of self-conciousness in the diaspora). This process of
literal `displacement' thus presents a lucid manifestation of the
predicament of eighteenth-century African/slave identity within the
diaspora. Alongside the dynamics of `cultural' migration and `hybri-
disation', such anti-essentialist conceptions of identity redetermined
con®gurations of history, language and culture as processes of
becoming rather than being.21
Drawing from Freudian analysis, the linguist Emile Benveniste has
argued that it is language which provides the possibility of subjec-
tivity; it is through language that people constitute themselves as
subjects: `Consciousness of self is only possible if it is experienced by
contrast . . . Language is possible only because each speaker sets
himself up as a subject by referring to himself as I in his discourse'.22
Since there is no other testimony to the identity of the subject other
than via language, there is no other form of authentication other
than whatever the subject articulates about him/herself. Yet the
8 Introduction
speaking subject can only become such by `conforming' his/her
speech to a system of linguistic prescriptions. Identity, therefore,
constitutes a complex matrix of sometimes contradictory subject
positions.23
The ®rst part of this study is largely concerned with political and
autobiographical tracts published in Britain by abolitionists, millen-
arianist prophets, Romantic poets and evangelical revivalists. The
second part is concerned with works by slaves of African descent
published in England during the late eighteenth and early nine-
teenth century. Part I identi®es the transatlantic discourse of the
spirit which emerged under the in¯uence of eighteenth-century
radical dissenting Protestantism. It traces the development of spirit-
ual autobiography as an heterogeneous medium of liberationist and
abolitionist ideology, and conversely, elucidates its appropriation by
advocates of territorial expansion and colonial ideology. Chapter 1
looks at the historical development of Britain's slave-trading and
colonial practice, the tensions arising from this and the emergence of
radical dissenting Protestantism on both sides of the Atlantic.
Chapters 2 and 3 present critical examinations of English traditions
of confessional writing by a selection of (white) literary predecessors
to the Romantics, `tangential' Romantic writers and `canonical'
poets. Within Chapter 2, relations are drawn between the narratives
of the former slave trader, John Newton, the writings of the
Devonshire visionary, Joanna Southcott, and the poetry of William
Cowper, an important precursor to the Romantic poets. Their
writings chart the rise of a self-conscious paradigm of counter-
hegemonic discourse which operates both within and without the
sociopolitical sphere. The writings of Joanna Southcott are examined
in terms of the explicit challenges they pose to both patriarchal and
non-conforming dissenting circles, via their strident demands for
self-authorisation and female emancipation. The poems of William
Cowper are seen to involve a complex fusion of spiritual discourse,
personal psychosis and abolitionist ideology, which is neither
unproblematic nor unambiguous. Likewise, the analysis of the
writings of Cowper's mentor, John Newton, highlights the ways in
which the liberationist model of spiritual salvation was strategically
employed in order to denounce the slave trade, yet remained isolated
from overt demands for black emancipation. Chapter 3 deals with
the writings of ®rst generation Romantics in terms of their responses
to the slave trade. The popularised discourse of radical dissenting
Introduction 9
Protestantism and abolitionist ideology is seen to provoke a con¯ict-
ing range of responses in the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft,
Samuel Coleridge, William Wordsworth and William Blake. At
times, such writings urged the British public to challenge the colonial
policies of empire-building; at other times, such writings, paradoxi-
cally framed by the discourse of liberation and individual autonomy,
revealed a pronounced detachment from demands for black civil
and political rights. The discussion of John Stedman's text in
Chapter 4 identi®es a signi®cant departure in its synthesis of
principal tenets of salvation/liberation with the dynamics of cross-
cultural contact. Set against the author's expedition to Surinam to
quell insurrectionist blacks, Stedman's text explodes cultural divi-
sions in its exposure of interracial sexual relations and `miscegena-
tions', which confuse the boundaries between coloniser and
colonised, enslaved and free. From this perspective, Stedman's
narrative provides a ®tting precursor to the discussion of the
`mutant' or `creolised' strategies contained within the autobiographi-
cal narratives by slaves discussed in Part II.
At this point the book leaves the discussion of Romantic and non-
conformist writings to examine a number of works by slaves of
African descent. Here the materials are from texts published in
England during the late eighteenth century, works which represent
the emergence of the black diaspora amidst the crisscrossing of the
Atlantic Ocean, from West Africa to the West Indies, from the
Americas to the British Isles. The term `slave narrative' as it is used
in the context of this book, encompasses the important disclosures,
poetical and prosaic, of the slaves' experience of cultural fragmenta-
tion and their emergence into the social and linguistic orders of the
west. Chapters 5 and 6 demonstrate the ways in which the works by
the ex-slaves John Marrant, Jupiter Hammon and James Albert
Ukawsaw Gronniosaw prioritised the landscape of radical dissenting
Protestantism and reinscribed the `self ' within a revised cultural/
textual narrative. Chapter 7 charts the ambivalent appropriation of
the evangelical redemptive model by the accomplished poet and
slave, Phillis Wheatley. The continuation of African cultural beliefs
and practices in Wheatley's work problematises the `redemptive'
Christian missionary ideology of the west and proffers an important
paradigm of intermediate cultural and literary negotiation which
destabilises the foundations of eighteenth-century racist/colonial
ideology. The discussion of the works by Olaudah Equiano and
10 Introduction
Robert Wedderburn in Chapters 8 and 9 posits such writings as
`hybridised' versions of fundamental African and Christian belief
systems, akin to the syncretic linguistic process of creolisation.
Equiano's focus upon divine election and `spirit possession' imparts
a correlation of non-conformist Protestantism with tenets of Ibo
culture. This in turn highlights the penetration of the political
sphere by the black voice and determines the condition of the
diasporic identity as a state of hiatus, which both continues and
interrupts the pervasive narrative of western hegemony. Anarchic to
an extreme, Robert Wedderburn's vehement critique of the colonial
narrative extends the paradigm of spiritual inspiration to a radical
demand for socioeconomic compensation and `black' deliverance
from the law. Posed as a conscious evolution of `creolised' discourse,
Wedderburn's work establishes an astonishingly vivid model of
consciousness in the black diaspora. For Wedderburn the oceanic
emptiness of the Atlantic functions not only as a demarcation of
absence, or `nothingness', in which black subjects were èrased' and
rede®ned as cultural `voids', but as a simultaneous and paradoxical
signi®er of in®nite possibilities and transformations.
In writing this book certain terms have been used to convey the
volatile dynamics of Britain's colonial practices. The terms `creolisa-
tion' and `miscegenation' endeavour to describe an historicised and
continued process of geographical and cultural interactions and
strategies by which new, vibrant mutations are (re)energised and
produced. Linguists have used the term `creolisation' to describe the
creation of new languages during periods of linguistic crisis in
response to urgent needs for communication. In terms of cultural
displacement, the key words here are self-evident: crisis, communi-
cation and `new' ways of speaking.24 As a linguistic system therefore,
a creole constitutes a sophisticated development of a pidgin lan-
guage, the latter being a reduced or make-shift form of verbal
communication which results from an extended contact between
groups of people with no language in common. The creation of
`creole' thus attests to a language system which has pidgin in its
ancestry, but which is spoken natively by an entire speech commun-
ity whose ancestors have been displaced geographically and/or
whose own sociohistorical identities have been partly disrupted. One
of the predominant causes of such sociolinguistic upheaval was the
unprecedented scale of black slavery. As Africans representing
diverse ethnolinguistic groups were brought by Europeans to colo-
Introduction 11
nies in the New World, their urgent need for communication
necessitated the development of intricate linguistic systems with their
own phonology, syntax and word formations amidst a highly
variable, chaotic linguistic environment. This process of creolisation
is still not completely understood, but for linguists and cultural
theorists alike it presents a fascinating model of expansion, elabora-
tion and reorganisation during a period of trauma, resulting in the
creation of a coherent and sophisticated verbal system.
Originating from the Latin term `creare', to `create', the term
`creolisation' offers an appropriate term to describe not only the
linguistic, but the cultural, geographical and literary positions which
Africans took up in the New World and continue to occupy within
the African diaspora. Creolisation is thus a response to crisis and
extreme upheaval, which operates upon a series of linguistic,
psychological and ontological levels. In essence it attests to the
overriding will to survive, a paradoxical process which endeavours
towards expansion at the moment of reduction; towards speech at
the moment of silence; and towards history at the moment a cultural
continuum is broken. Likewise, my use of the term `miscegenation',
from the term to ìnterbreed', to `mingle', testi®es in this context to
the interaction (and indeed interdependence) between two otherwise
contrasting cultural/subject positions. By this I refer to the fact that
Europe and Africa have for centuries been shaped by each other,
have extended their borders into each other; categorisation in terms
of ®xed racial, cultural, political or historical entities cannot there-
fore be coherently maintained.
Another term which I use is Àfrican epistemology', by which I
refer to the spectrum of African based epistemologies and ontologi-
cal practices existent at the moment of colonial contact. Notwith-
standing the complexity and multiplicity of subnational languages
and traditions which make up the construct known as Àfrica', the
most persistent and consistent of these traditions were maintained by
the new group formations of Africans (predominately the Yoruba
peoples of West Africa) on board the slave ships, on the slave
plantations of the new world, and within the widespread black
communities.25 Such traditions offered conceptual frameworks tan-
gential to European, Christianised frameworks of time, space and
subjectivity. Taking the ®rst of these, African philosophical and
metaphysical cultures prioritised a cyclic consciousness and con-
®guration of time which dissolved /refused divisions between the
12 Introduction
metaphysical and the physical tripartite aspects of reality: past ±
present ± future; ancestor ± living ± unborn. These systems, with
their correlating beliefs in immortality, spiritual presence and ver-
idical dreams, promoted a predominately vitalist rather than gnosio-
logical focus within which, in contrast to Cartesian ontology, the
metaphysical and the concrete were uni®ed.26 Whereas Western
subjectivism posits the subject as a self-suf®cient, relatively `free',
egocentric agent, African metaphysics and philosophy offer a com-
municentric view of the subject, whose status is af®rmed via the
cultivation of contacts and exchanges with others. Within such an
existential framework, therefore, `death' does not destroy the tissue
of human possibilities and aspirations but rather confers personal
immortality and continued existence via generations of descendants
and ancestors, the guardians of the community.27 Differences such as
these can perhaps serve to register the counter-discourses to Western
subjectivism, colonial expansionism and imperial historical frame-
works. The sites of cultural displacement and encounter may thus
be seen to offer, albeit chaotic and unguaranteed, revised de®nitions
of the self within a wider political, geographical and cultural
dimension.
In its examination of the intersection between African and
Western culture, the outlines of this study are broad, yet they begin
from a point of departure that is speci®cally marked in the late
eighteenth century by three interrelated movements. Exempli®ed by
England's interaction with Sierra Leone, these movements: (1) the
emergence of modern colonial ideology; (2) the emergence of
abolitionist discourse; and (3) the processes of writing the self, mark
the period 1770±1830 as one of intense (self-)consciousness on an
individual, national and cultural scale. These developments, as I
suggest in the chapter that follows, register the shift in England's
de®nition of itself and its relations with others (racial and colonial) in
the context of civil rights and liberties.
In summary, this book attempts to provide a new way of reading
both Romantic writing and the writings of blacks in British society
by demonstrating the feasibility of an intertextual dialogue between
Western and African culture within the slave narratives. It highlights
the continuous processes of identity-transformation and negotiation
within the diaspora, processes which disturb ideas of `®xed' tradi-
tions, cultures or `selves'.28 By elucidating the mapping of African
epistemology on to the various English traditions of confessional
Introduction 13
writing and the dynamics of radical dissenting Protestantism, this
book locates the `creolised' discourse of the slave narratives within a
complex nexus of cultural history. For both the slaves and the
prophetic writers alike, the trans®guration of the `self ' on to a
spiritual mode of discourse provided a strategic release from the
restraints of subjectivity as de®ned in terms of physical presence or
sociopolitical status. Given the West's pervasive theories of cultural
hierarchy and racial inferiority dominant during the late eighteenth
and early nineteenth century, beliefs centred upon cultural coales-
cence or racial ìnterplay' tended to be perceived as subversive
threats to the established socioeconomic order. But it is exactly this
ìnterplay' which provides the prophets, poets, radicals and slaves
alike with a form of credibility and critique: the word of the `spirit' is
counterpoised to that of the `law'; identity, power and authority are
made ¯uid and versatile. The dynamics of spiritual discourse thus
provided an effective process of self-consciousness and self-author-
ising which challenged conceptual boundaries between `selves' and
racial òthers'. For the slaves, the narratives enabled a simultaneous
articulation of assimilation and difference: it allowed them to speak
of a `self ' beyond that prescribed by eighteenth-century slave laws, a
`self ' determined by both African epistemological belief systems and
culturally diverse historical codes; a self which simultaneously
occupied a creative space of transformation and `becoming'.
part i
Fig. 1. Sir John Hawkins' Crest.
chapter one
The English slave trade and abolitionism
Although it would be a further one hundred years before England

had successfully wrested the body of the slave trade from Spain and
Portugal, and a further seventy years before it succeeded in dom-
inating the European slave market, John Hawkins' voyage from
England to Africa in 1562 marked England's entrance onto the world
market of transatlantic slavery and its subsequent ascendance as a
global power supported by colonial expansion. During this `historic'
voyage, some 300 slaves were taken from Sierra Leone on the
Guinea Coast and transported to the Caribbean island of Hispaniola
(now Haiti and the Dominican Republic) where they were sold to
the Spaniards for £10,000 worth of pearls, hides, sugar and ginger. 1
In 1607 England founded its ®rst colony at Virginia and in the 1620s
Barbados and the Leeward Islands in the West Indies were appro-
priated for this expanding empire.2 Just over a decade later, in 1633,
the English `guinea' coin was struck to commemorate the foundation
of the slave-trading company known as the Royal Adventurers and
by the 1650s, demand for slave produce such as sugar, coffee and
tobacco had reached an unprecedented intensity. In the period
1673±1689, over 70 per cent of the slaves imported by the Royal
African Company (formerly the Royal Adventurers) came from the
Guinea Coast, the remainder from the Senegambia region further
north and from Angola in the south. The majority of slaves in the
Caribbean originated primarily from the Windward Coast (modern
Liberia), the Gold Coast (Ghana) and the Slave Coast (Togoland,
Dahomey and Western Nigeria).3 By 1770, Britain's status as one of
the most powerful and dynamic states was established ± its commer-
cial vigour having created some of the most productive slave colonies
in the world, with a total population of 878,000 slaves (450,000 in
British North America and 428,000 in the British Caribbean).4 By
1760, the British and French slave colonies were producing 150,000
17
Fig. 2. Map of Guinea. William Snelgrave, A New Account of Some Parts of Guinea and the Slave Trade (London, 1734). Frontispiece.
The English slave trade and abolitionism 19
tons of sugar per year, an amount which had almost doubled by the
years 1789±1790.5 The annual rate of slaves shipped by Britain to the
West Indies and America during the latter half of the eighteenth
century reached 45,000 per year, with Liverpool, Bristol and London
functioning as England's most important slave ports. In the decade
between 1783 and 1793, slave ships departing from Liverpool
completed a total of 878 trips to the West Indies, resulting in a net
pro®t of £15 million.6 By 1807 the slave population of the British
Caribbean had reached a total of 750,000 and by 1832 there were
over 500 coffee plantations in Jamaica.7
By the end of the eighteenth century, the system of representa-
tional government and the system of slavery were ®rmly established
in law and custom in the British Caribbean ± the former based
upon a monopoly of political power in the hands of a white elite
dependent on the English Crown, and the latter, a slave system
dependent on the legal concept of property on persons.8 Yet despite
the legal rationalisation of this economic system and its extension
via subsequent West Indian Slave Codes, hostility towards the
institution of slavery from a section of opinion in England con-
tinued to make itself heard. The decision of the Court of the King's
Bench in 1772 over the rights of the escaped black Virginian slave,
James Somerset (a slave who refused to serve his master while in
England and who as a result was imprisoned on board a ship to be
sold away to Jamaica) signalled an historic moment in the British
abolition movement, in its identi®cation of blacks as free individuals
rather than slaves. In his Commentaries on the Laws of England in Four
Books (1779), William Blackstone commented on the rights of man as
follows:
If neither captivity, nor the sale of one's self, can by the law of nature and
reason reduce the parent to slavery, much less can they reduce the offspring.
Upon these principles the law of England abhors, and will not endure the
existence of, slavery within this nation . . . And now it is laid down (Salk.
666), that a slave or negro, the instant he lands in England, becomes a
freeman; that is, the law will protect him in the enjoyment of his person,
and his property.9
The origins of the abolition movement were, however, heavily
in¯uenced by the appropriation of Enlightenment ideology and the
emergence of a network of non-conformist religious groups informed
by radical dissenting Protestantism, the central features of which I
shall discuss below.10 Although misconstrued as determining the
20 Romanticism and Slave Narratives
illegality of slavery, Lord Mans®eld's ruling in the Somerset case
prescribed that the slave in question could not be removed from
England against his will:
The power of a master over his slave has been extremely different, in
different countries. The state of slavery is of such a nature, that it is
incapable of being introduced on any reasons, moral or political; but only
[by] positive law, which preserves its force long after the reasons, occasion,
and time itself from whence it was created, is erased from memory: It is so
odious, that nothing can be suffered to support it, but positive law.
Whatever inconveniences, therefore, may follow from a decision, I cannot
say this case is allowed or approved by the law of England; and therefore
the black [ James Somerset] must be discharged.11
Mans®eld's judicial decision was not well received by planters, as
demonstrated by Edward Long's satirical response, Candid Re¯ections
Upon the Judgement Lately Awarded by the Court of the King's Bench (1772):
The invention of printing has been ascribed to a soldier, of gunpowder to a
priest; perhaps the longitude may be discovered by a taylor; but the art of
washing the Black-a-moor white was happily reserved for a lawyer . . . The name
of **** MÐ[Lord Mans®eld] shall henceforth become more popular
among all the Quacoes and Quashebas of America, than that of patriot Wilkes
once was among the porter-swilling swains of St. Giles.12
Long emphasised the fact that in the past Parliament had implicitly
encouraged expansion of the slave trade as a traf®c `highly bene®cial
to the kingdom, and the colonies and plantations thereon depending'
and had provided a de®nition of negro labourers as `®t objects of
purchase and sale, transferable like any other goods or chattels':
No blame can deservedly rest on the planter, who is ignorant of the means,
and innocent of the guilt. That trade . . . has been carried on by this nation
from time immemorial. Kings, Lords, and Commons, have shared in its
pro®ts, and concurred in various laws for supporting, regulating, and ®rmly
establishing it.13
Others associated the consequences of the Mans®eld decision with
an unprecedented escalation in the number of black citizens in
England and viewed it as a pernicious threat to national purity in
terms of the resulting intermixture of `racial blood':
It is therefore humbly hoped the Parliament will provide such remedies as
may be adequate to the occasion, by expelling the Negroes now here, who
are not made free by their owners, and by prohibiting the introduction of
them in this kingdom for the future; and save the natural beauty of Britons
from the Morisco tint.14
Jurists and moral philosophers had justi®ed the legal basis of slavery
according to the doctrine enunciated in Aristotle's Politics, a work
which provided a detailed examination of the origins of society and
government and included an analysis of the nature of servitude
between master and servant. For Aristotle, the domestic slave was
de®ned as `merely the possession and property, or, as it were, the
separable part of that master' to be used, not according to his own
interest or caprice, `but in subserviency to the general good, and
suitably to reason'.15 Likewise Aristotle de®ned the slave as a person
`naturally' ®tted to such status:
Those men, therefore, whose powers are chie¯y con®ned to the body, and
whose principal excellence consists in affording bodily service; those, I say,
are naturally slaves, because it is their interest to be so. They can obey
reason, though they are unable to exercise it; and though different from
tame animals, who are disciplined by means merely of their own sensations
and appetites, they perform nearly the same tasks, and become the
property of other men, because their safety requires it.16
Conversely, in his Èssay Concerning the True Original, Extent, and

End of Civil Government', the philosopher John Locke de®ned
political power as a direct derivative of that state in which all men
exist naturally, that is, à State of perfect Freedom to order their
Actions, and dispose of their Possessions, and Persons as they think
®t, within the bounds of the Law of Nature'.17 According to Locke,
man's natural state was one of equality, `wherein all the Power and
Jurisdiction is reciprocal, no one having more than another'. 18
Slavery was `so vile and miserable an Estate of Man' and so directly
opposed to the benevolent temper and spirit of the nation that it was
`hardly to be conceived, that an Englishman, much less a Gentleman,
should plead for't'.19 Since man, `not having the power of his own
life' could not enslave himself to any one, it followed that the natural
liberty of man represented an inalienable freedom from absolute,
arbitrary power.20 No man had complete control over his own life,
Locke argued, therefore no man could voluntarily deliver himself to
the absolute power of another:
For a Man, not having the Power of his own Life, cannot, by Compact, or
his own Consent, enslave himself to any one, nor put himself under the
Absolute, Arbitrary Power of another, to take away his Life, when he
pleases. No body can give more Power than he has himself; and he that
cannot take away his own Life, cannot give another Power over it . . . This
is the perfect condition of Slavery, which is nothing else, but the State of
War continued, between a lawful Conquerour, and a Captive.21
However, as an investor in the Royal African Company and as a

draftsman of the 1699 Constitution of Carolina, a text which
prescribed the power of freemen over that of slaves, Locke's position
was deeply ambiguous. Indeed, it was only by locating slavery
outside the social contract that Locke could reconcile his belief in
man's inalienable rights over his person to concepts of cultural
inferiority.22
In 1748, the French philosopher Baron Montesquieu, Charles
Louis du Secondat, published his De l'espirit des lois (1748), a work
which ridiculed many of the conventional justi®cations for the
enslavement of Africans.23 The premise of Montesquieu's thesis,
published in London in 1750 as The Spirit of Laws, was founded upon
a deep rooted conviction in the existence of some underlying order
(or `law') within the social world, a system which paralleled the laws
of nature. According to Montesquieu, the `spirit' of a given system ±
that is, its common character or general disposition ± was essentially
interrelated to the complex conditions which allowed such laws ±
political, international, religious and otherwise ± to arise. In the
posthumous edition of 1756, the antislavery element of Book xv of
The Spirit of Laws was reinforced and extended by means of an
additional chapter. Slavery was classi®ed as `contrary to the spirit of
the constitution', contravening the doctrines of natural law and
liberal democracy in the sense that it served merely to give citizens a
power and a luxury to which they were not entitled and deprived
slaves of the opportunity to act independently. Yet even in the 1750
edition the antislavery momentum was clearly identi®able:
The state of slavery is bad of its own nature: it is neither useful to the
master nor to the slave; not to the slave, because he can do nothing thro' a
motive of virtue; not to the master, because he contracts all manner of bad
habits with his slaves, he accustoms himself insensibly to the want of all
moral virtues, he grows ®erce, hasty, severe, choleric, voluptuous, and
cruel.24
Although Montesquieu's remarks fell short of an unmitigated

demand for abolition and suggested rather that in some circum-
stances slavery was a necessary evil, his work provided a suitable
prototype for other eighteenth-century abolitionist texts. Further-
more, it hinted at the threat of rebellion presented by the slaves
themselves and juxtaposed the deprived state of the slave's soul with
the slave master's political and civil liberty:
He sees the happiness of a society, of which he is not so much as a member;
he sees the security of others fenced by laws, himself without protection. He
sees his master has a soul, that can enlarge itself; while his own is
constrained to submit to a continual depression . . . Nothing more
assimilates a man to a beast, than living among freemen, himself a slave.
Such people as these are the natural enemies of society, and their number
must be dangerous . . . I would as soon say, that the right of slavery
proceeds from the contempt of one nation for another, founded on a
difference of customs.25
One of the most important, and indeed, the most persuasive
counter-arguments to rational justi®cations of the slave trade resided
in claims which advocated the spiritual potential of blacks. Whereas
sociopolitical systems had de®ned slaves in terms of property and
resisted the idea that slaves could obtain freedom by becoming
Christians, others argued that since the Christian gospel was in-
tended to be made available to all men, then blacks, although
possibly culturally disadvantaged, were susceptible to the principal
tenets of Christianity and, most importantly, to the workings of the
spirit.26 The dynamics of antislavery discourse thus emerged from a
framework of spiritual salvation ± a narrative which was used to
prioritise a concern for the slaves' spiritual welfare and emphasise
the potential spiritual deterioration of slave owners. Inspired by the
arguments against slavery which had appeared in The London Maga-
zine during the late 1730s, by Sir Hans Sloane's A Voyage to the Islands
Madera, Barbados, Nieves, S. Christophers and Jamaica (1707) and the
Royal Navy Surgeon, John Atkins' A Voyage to Guinea, Brasil, and the
West Indies in his Majesty's Ships the Swallow and Weymouth . . . With
Remarks on the Gold, Ivory and Slave Trade (1735), in 1755 the Scottish
philosopher Francis Hutcheson published his System of Moral Phil-
osophy (1755).27 In this text, designed to ùnfold the several principles
of the human mind as united in a moral constitution', Hutcheson
declared that the aim of moral philosophy was to `direct men to that
course of action which tends most effectually to promote their
greatest happiness and perfection'.28 Hutcheson's System provided a
detailed account of the ways in which slavery violated all sense of
natural justice, Christian morality and any proper sense of liberty.
Since no man was devoid of moral sense, nor of the desire for liberty,
property and happiness, Hutcheson maintained that the slave trade
contravened those very principles which had established each man
as the `natural proprietor of his own liberty':
The natural equality of men consists chie¯y in this, that these natural rights
belong equally to all . . . Every one is a part of that great system, whose
greatest interest is intended by all the laws of God and nature. These laws
prohibit the greatest or wisest of mankind to in¯ict any misery on the
meanest, or to deprive them of any of their natural rights, or innocent
acquisitions, when no publick interest requires it.29
Furthermore, Hutcheson identi®ed the natural rights of each indi-
vidual as a right to life, `the connate desire of life and self-preserva-
tion' which existed alongside man's natural desire for happiness and
an instinctive condemnation of any cruelty directed towards his
fellow men.30 In opposition to Aristotle's theory of innate principles,
therefore, Hutcheson argued that since all men possessed an over-
powering desire for liberty and a profound understanding of the
concepts of property and justice, then neither natural nor acquired
rights could give one the right to assume absolute power over others:
We must therefore conclude, that no endowments, natural or acquired, can
give a perfect right to assume power over others, without their consent . . .
This is intended against the doctrine of Aristotle, and some others of the
antients, `that some men are naturally slaves, of low genius but great bodily
strength for labour'.31
According to Hutcheson, no men were born `natural slaves', since
despite their difference from each other in terms of wisdom, virtue,
beauty or strength, `the lowest of them, who have the use of reason,
differ in this from the brutes, that by forethought and re¯ection they
are capable of incomparably greater happiness or misery'.32
Five years later, in 1760, the Scottish jurist George Wallace
published his System of the Principles of the Law of Scotland, a radical text
which identi®ed the doctrine of slavery as being `so contrary to the
feelings of humanity' as to make it incompatible with the Law of
Scotland: Ì take it to be undeniable, that every man is born equal to
every other . . . Hence Liberty is said to be a natural faculty, naturalis
facultas; and slavery is said not only to owe its original to the arbitrary
constitutions of men but to be contrary to nature'.33 Wallace's text,
published twelve years before Lord Mans®eld's famous verdict of
1772, identi®ed slavery as an inhuman and unlawful institution and
called for its abolition. Slavery, he argued, was neither essential to
the subsistence of society, nor conducive to the happiness or well-
being of society; rather, it introduced `the greatest possible inequality
among mankind' by stripping innocent members of society of all the
property they owned and denying them spiritual potential:
It subjects them entirely to the dominion of their masters; it exposes them
to all the insults, torture, cruelty, and hard usage, which inhumanity,
avarice, pride and caprice can suggest: It makes the bulk of mankind
dependent on the few . . . Are not slaves, as well as others, men? Have they
not human souls, human faculties, and human passions? . . . I abhor the
principles, upon which it [slavery] is either justi®ed or founded.34
Moreover, Wallace suggested that Britain's continuing support of the
slave trade was detrimental to its progressive (and hence spiritual)
development: `Set the Niggers free, and, in a few generations, this
vast and fertile continent [Africa] would be crowded with inhabi-
tants; learning, arts, and every thing would ¯ourish among them'.35
Wallace's denunciation of slavery was later reiterated in the
pamphlet published by the English-born Quaker, Antony Benezet.
Benezet's A Short Account of That Part of Africa Inhabited by Negroes (1762),
a text reprinted on both sides of the Atlantic, presented a series of
essays directed exclusively towards the discourse of slavery, which
contested the prejudiced misrepresentations of Africa advanced in
the works by Michel Adanson, William Bosman and William
Smith.36 In his subsequent, comprehensive work, Some Historical
Account of Guinea (1771), Benezet endeavoured to expose the iniquity
of the slave trade and its ìnconsistency with every Christian and
moral virtue'.37 Heavily in¯uenced by his Quaker upbringing,
Benezet insisted upon the spiritual and intellectual equality of the
Africans and criticised the devastating impact of Europeans upon
the African continent:
Let the opulent planter or merchant prove that his Negroe slave is not his
brother; or that he is not his neighbour, in the scripture sense of these
appellations; and if he is not able to do so, how will he justify the buying
and selling of his brethren, as if they were of no more consideration than
his cattle? . . . Let him diligently consider whether there will not always
remain to the slave a superior property or right . . . [that] which was given
him by God, and which none but the giver can justly claim.38
In the introduction to his text, Benezet identi®ed the purpose of his
Short Account as a counter-argument to common vindications of the
trade which had claimed that slavery had arisen from a natural
desire to save the lives of African prisoners of tribal warfare who
would otherwise have been `sacri®ced to the implacable revenge of
their conquerors'.39 In his A Caution and Warning to Great Britain and
Her Colonies, in a Short Representation of the Calamitous State of the Enslaved
Negroes in the British Dominions (1766), a work which collated the
antislavery agenda of various authors and reiterated the claims
made by George Wallace in his System of the Principles of the Laws of
Scotland concerning the inalienable rights of liberty ± `To declare
him[self ] free ± this is the law of nature, which is obligatory in all
men, at all times, and in all places' ± Benezet extended his narrative
of spiritual development to produce a critique of the in¯uence of
slavery upon the spiritual status of planters and colonialists alike.40
In this text he listed some of the most undesirable consequences of
the trade, including the destruction of natural bonds of affection,
`whereby mankind in general love are united', the debauchment of
morals and most importantly, the deterioration of the institution of
marriage amongst Europeans resident in the British Dominion:
Èuropeans forgetful of their duty, as men, and Christians . . . have
led them [the negroes] into excess, into drunkenness, debauchery
and avarice'.41
In his work, A Philosophical and Political History of the Settlements and
Trade of the Europeans in the East and West Indies (1776), Benezet's friend
and correspondent, Guillaume Raynal, condemned slavery's denial
of the tenets of humanity, reason and justice:
He who supports the system of slavery is the enemy of the whole human
race. He divides it into two societies of legal assassins; the oppressors and
the oppressed. It is the same thing as proclaiming to the world, If you
would preserve your life, instantly take away mine, for I want to have yours
. . . My blood rises at these horrid images. I detest, I abhor the human
species, made up only of victims and executioners, and if it is never to
become better, may it be annihilated!42
Drawing on drafts from several authors, including the radical

utopian abolitionist and socialist, Jean de Pechmeja, Raynal's text
went through ®fty-®ve editions during the ®rst thirty years of
publication and was translated into ®ve languages. His condem-
nation of slavery skilfully combined a detailed critique of Anglo-
American territorial expansionism and British imperialism:
Slaves are to the commerce of Europeans in Africa, what gold is in the
commerce we carry on in the New World. The heads of the Negroes
represent the stock of the state of Guinea. Every day this stock is carried
off, and nothing is left them, but articles of consumption.43
In anticipation of the mass slave revolt in St Domingue in 1791,
Raynal's text identi®ed the slaves' potential to precipitate a radical
transformation of their condition and determine their own historical
`narratives':
Sooner or later, will any people, made desparate by tyranny, or the
oppression of conquerors, always get the better of numerous and well-
disciplined armies; if they have but resolution enough to endure hunger
rather than the yoke, to die rather than live in bondage, and if they chuse
to see their nation extinct rather than enslaved.44
Indeed Raynal's call was not without precedent: slave conspiracies
and revolts, especially on the large estates of Jamaica, had already
begun to unsettle the imposed social order of the slave colonies. In
1760±1761, during what became known as `Tacky's Revolt', 400
slaves rebelled in St Mary's Parish on the north coast of Jamaica, an
uprising which resulted in the execution of about 400 suspected slave
rebels and the deportation of 500 others to British colonies. 45 Later
slave insurrections included Gabriel Prossere's revolt in Virginia
(1800), Bussa's rebellion in Barbados in 1816, Denmark Vesey's revolt
in South Carolina (1822), the slave rebellion in Demerara (1823) and
Nat Turner's revolt in Virginia (1831).
In the same year that witnessed the publication of Raynal's
in¯uential text and the American Declaration of Independence,
Adam Smith's Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations
(1776) presented a powerful challenge to colonial slavery, premised
on an argument which prioritised the productive superiority of free
labour. According to Smith, slavery was an inef®cient system of
production: since slaves had no prospect of acquiring property, they
possessed no real incentive to work. According to Smith, the
establishment of international commerce, and hence the abolition of
slavery, would augment the wealth of the British nation to unprece-
dented proportions:
The rulers of Great Britain have for more than a century past, amused the
people with the imagination that they possessed a great empire on the west
side of the Atlantic. This empire, however, has hitherto existed in
imagination only. It has hitherto been, not an empire, but the project of an
empire; not a gold mine, but the project of a gold mine; a project which has
cost, which continues to cost, and which if pursued in the same way as it
has been hitherto, is likely to cost immense expence, without being likely to
bring any pro®t; for the effects of the monopoly of the colony trade, it has
been shewn are, to the great body of people, mere loss instead of pro®t.46
John Millar's The Origin of the Distinction of Ranks (1771) similarly
presented a systematic denunciation of the slave trade, focused
speci®cally upon the unpro®tability of the institution and its incom-
patibility with industry, population and moral integrity. In the third
edition of 1779, Millar condemned the slave trade as inconvenient
and retrograde: `No conclusion seems more certain than this, that
men will commonly exert more activity when they work for their
own bene®t, than when they are compelled to labour for the bene®t
merely of another'.47 Extending his analysis to the effects on slave
owners, Millar further suggested that slavery was harmful to the
`good morals of a people', since the debasement of servants had a
direct in¯uence upon the `temper and disposition' of masters.48 This
focus upon the relation between slaves and their masters, and
indeeed, between Africa and Europe, was an important step in
acknowledging the relationship between the two races.
Heavily in¯uenced by the ideas of Montesquieu, An Essay on the
Nature and Immutability of Truth, in Opposition to Sophistry and Scepticism
(1771) by James Beattie, Professor of Moral Philosophy at the
University of Aberdeen, exposed the fallacies inherent in Aristotle's
and Hume's theories of racial inequality.49 Countering both Hume's
assertions that `there never was a civilised nation of any other
complexion than white, nor even any individual eminent either in action
or speculation', and Aristotle's claims that `men of little genius' were
`by nature destined to serve', Beattie attempted to close the cultural
gap between Africa and Britain, claiming that the former was
merely at an earlier stage of development:
The inhabitants of Great Britain and France were as savage two thousand
years ago, as those of Africa and America are at this day. To civilise a
nation, is a work which it requires a long time to accomplish. And one may
as well say of an infant, that he can never become a man, as of a nation
now barbarous, that it never can be civilised.50
In keeping with this vindication Beattie argued that African cultural
artifacts demonstrated a high level of creative invention which èven
Europeans would ®nd . . . no easy matter to imitate'. More im-
portantly, he celebrated the ùnwearied perseverance' of those
enlightened persons who had vindicated the `sacred rights of
mankind':
Let it never be said, that slavery is countenanced by the bravest and most
generous people on earth; by a people who are animated with that heroic
passion, the love of liberty . . . [and] the unwearied, perseverance, in
vindicating, at the expence of life and fortune, the sacred rights of
mankind.51
Arguments outlined by moral philosophers such as Beattie, Hutch-
eson and Raynal disclosed the increasing antagonism between
discourses founded upon concepts of slavery and those which
emphasised man's natural rights to freedom. A key component of
liberationist ideology, however, was the prioritisation of a narrative
of individual autonomy alongside declarations of the spiritual equality
of masters and slaves. The following section explores the multifarious
development of the `discourse of the spirit' within the sociopolitical
context of England during the mid-eighteenth century; from its
origins as a principal factor of radical dissenting Protestantism, its
in¯uence upon abolitionist and liberationist ideology, its mutant
transformation via the literary works of slave narrators, Romantics
and prophets alike and its success as a viable challenge to the legal
and political agents of slave ideology.
abolition and radical dissenting protestantism

While condemnations of slavery were premised upon inalienable
rights of liberty and concepts of spiritual equality, the Church of
England as an institution remained de®antly impervious to growing
antislavery agitation. Consequently, during the early phase of aboli-
tionist propaganda, religious protest in England and America
emerged mainly from nonconformist groups such as the Quakers
and Evangelical Methodists. The discourse of spiritual salvation and
radical dissent advanced by these groups provided a powerful
rhetoric of liberation, the central features of which strategically
in¯uenced the success of the abolitionist movement during the late
eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. As David Bebbington
notes in his study of the development of Protestant Christianity in
modern Britain and America, 1734 witnessed one of the most
important developments in the history of dissenting Protestantism,
with the emergence of Evangelicalism and the success of the
conversion and pastoral work of Jonathan Edwards at Northampton,
Massachusetts during the spiritual revival of 1734±1735.52 Linked
with the Puritan movement of the sixteenth century, this form of
religious dissent emphasised the dynamics of conversion (the concept
of `new' birth), biblicism (a reliance on the Bible as the ultimate
religious authority), crucicentrism (a focus on Christ's redeeming
work) and activism (an energetic approach to religious duties and
social involvement), and ultimately became known as Evangelic-
alism.53 Amongst its chief proponents were the American theologian
and philosopher, Jonathan Edwards (1703±1758), the English cler-
gyman and founder of Methodism, John Wesley (1703±1791) and the
English evangelist and itinerant revivalist, George White®eld
(1714±1770).
From the earliest stages of its history, Methodism was a transatlan-
tic phenomenon. Representatives of the evangelical movement,
including John Wesley and George White®eld, crisscrossed the
Atlantic during a fertile period of exchange and reassessment. In
1729, Jonathan Edwards became a full minister in Northampton,
New England. During the winter of that year his congregation
experienced an extraordinarily intense crescendo of religious zeal,
accounts of which spread to other communities throughout the
American colonies and to Great Britain.54 This religious fervour,
which made Edwards something of a celebrity, was, however, short-
lived. Its revival was reinstigated with the arrival of the enigmatic
preacher, George White®eld, who received his ordination in
England in 1738 and who was inspired by the missionary labours of
the Wesley brothers ( John and Charles) in the newly founded colony
of Georgia, North America. Preaching in open ®elds, White®eld
criticised the national clergy and claimed that he himself was a
recipient of direct guidance from the Holy Spirit. White®eld's mode
of itinerant preaching and persuasive powers of oratory in¯uenced
scores of ministers and established the revivalist period of `Great
Awakening' wherein emotional outbursts were identi®ed as the work
of God's spirit and the harbingers of a millennial age. White®eld,
however, approved of black slavery and kept slaves himself. In 1748,
he with others, urged the trustees of Georgia to introduce slavery
into the colony, arguing that without it, Georgia would `never
prosper'.55
John Wesley, ordained in 1725, had served as his father's curate
in Lincolnshire before taking over the leadership of a religious
study group known as the `Methodists'. In 1735 he agreed to
assume spiritual leadership of the new colony of Georgia and from
the time of his own spiritual experience of May 1738, a moment
during which he claimed he felt his heart `strangely warmed' (Àn
assurance was given me that He had taken away my sins, even mine,
and saved me from the law of sin and death'), Wesley's wide-ranging
missionary zeal took him to Oxford, London and Bristol, Wales,
Cornwall and Scotland and Ireland.56 Although Wesley claimed
that he had set out to revive the spiritual life of the Church of
England, his `Methodism' quickly took on a character of its own
and his preaching of `salvation by faith' succeeded in establishing
an independent `connexion' of itinerant preachers and churches. 57
Wesley's style of preaching transgressed eighteenth-century taboos
against extemporary prayer and lay-leadership and promoted a
`plain-style' of oral preaching.58 As he commented in a sermon of
1746, this mode of plain-speaking translated into text was an
attempt to write às I generally speak, ad populum, to the bulk of
mankind'.
I design plain truth for plain people . . . I labour to avoid all words which
are not easy to be understood, all which are not used in common life . . . I
am persuaded that, on the one hand, this may be a means of enabling me
more clearly to express the sentiments of my heart . . . without entangling
myself with those of other men . . . I am not afraid to lay open what have
been the inmost thoughts of my heart . . . I am a spirit come from God and
returning to God.59
In terms of its immediacy and accessibility, Wesley's emphasis on
plain oracy and self-re¯ection provided an important model for
literary expressions of identity employed by Methodists, Romantics
and slaves alike.
quakers and shakers

The Religious Society of Friends, or `Quakers' as they were called by
their ®rst leader, George Fox, emerged in seventeenth-century
England and America, during the Puritan Commonwealth under
Oliver Cromwell, as an inward intensi®cation of the radical and
spiritual forms of Puritanism. According to Fox, within all men,
including heathens, there resided a principle of God capable of
leading one to salvation. A central feature of Quakerism therefore
was its concern with personal conviction and the possibility of `truth'
inwardly revealed. For Fox, Quakerism embodied a `spiritual move-
ment', a movement which highlighted the innate capacity of the
human soul and advocated a belief in the purely inward nature of
true baptism and communion, and the ful®lment of biblical events
within the duration of an individual's lifetime. In¯uential Quaker
theological texts included George Fox's Journal, or an Historical Account
of the Life, Travels, Sufferings, Christian Experience and Labour of Love in the
Ministry of George Fox (1694); John Woolman's Journal of the Life, Gospel
Labours and Christian Experience (1776); William Penn's No Cross, No
Crown (1669) and Robert Barclay's Apology for the True Christian Divinity,
As the Same is Held Forth by the Quakers (1678).60
Across the Atlantic, the Philadelphian Quakers John Woolman
and Anthony Benezet played a crucial role in persuading the Friends
to disassociate themselves from both the slave trade and slaveholding
itself. In 1753, the tailor and scribe Woolman made the assertive
gesture of refusing to transcribe wills for those Quakers who
intended to bequeath slave property. In a letter to the Philadelphia
Society Yearly Meeting, Woolman rearticulated his concern over the
Quakers' increasing involvement in slavery and published his text,
Some Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes (Philadelphia, 1754) accord-
ingly. In this tract, Woolman extended the Quaker concept of the
brotherhood in Christ to a critique of slavery ± `To consider
Mankind otherwise than Brethren . . . plainly supposes a Darkness
in the understanding' ± and in an even more radical gesture,
coalesced the concept of salvation with that of the Divine's imminent
deliverance of the slaves: `Negroes are our Fellow Creatures . . . The
Parent of Mankind . . . gives deliverance to the oppressed'.61 As a
response to Woolman's text and his criticism, the Philadelphia
Society sanctioned a motion prohibiting slaveholders from acquiring
positions of authority within the Church, a move that was similarly
supported by the London Quakers in 1761. This strategic severance
from slave ideology in the context of spiritual guidance played an
important role in Woolman's autobiographical A Journal of the Life,
Gospel Labours and Christian Experience of that Faithful Minister of Jesus
Christ, John Woolman (1776), a text in which the expression of identity
was fused with literary and polemical tactics. In this text, Woolman
described his personal spiritual development, including the visita-
tions of what he termed his blessed èxperience of the goodness of
God', and elucidated his ultimate rejection of the slave trade in
terms of its incompatibility with Christianity ± Ì said . . . that I
believed Slave Keeping to be a practice inconsistent with the
Christian religion'.62 More importantly perhaps, the author ascribed
the Pennsylvania and New Jersey Friends' resolution to actively
withdraw themselves from the trade as a direct manifestation of
spiritual guidance:
We . . . have found it to be our duty to cease from this national Contest
productive of misery and Bloodshed, and submit our Cause to him . . .
And we, through the gracious Dealings of the Lord our God, have had
Experience of that Work which is carried in, `not by earthly Might, nor by
Power, but by my Spirit', saith the Lord of Hosts.63
In his tract, The Case of Our Fellow-Creatures, the Oppressed Africans,

Respectfully Recommended to the Serious Consideration of the Legislature of
Great Britain published in London in 1784, Anthony Benezet,
speaking as a representative of the `People called Quakers', similarly
stressed the Society's obligation to `bear a public testimony' against
a species of oppression `long exercised upon the natives of Africa'.64
Benezet condemned the commercial motives of the English nation's
`system of tyranny' and argued that it would have been more in
keeping with the àvowed principles of Englishmen' had they
advanced a national programme aimed at establishing the heathen's
conversion to Christianity: `to incline them to receive the glad
tidings of the gospel'.65 Although the underlying suggestion of
Benezet's work prescribes an advancement of expansionist coloni-
alism these `Quaker' texts demonstrate the emergence of a signi®-
cant strain of antislavery ideology set within the framework of
radical dissenting Protestantism. In May 1783, Quakers in London
presented a petition against the trade to the Houses of Parliament.
In 1787, with the aid of members from other dissenting groups, the
Quakers founded the Society for Effecting the Abolition of the Slave
Trade, possibly because many Quaker families had pro®ted substan-
tially from their involvement in the trade and considered their
participation in the abolitionist campaign a means of alleviating
their guilt.66
One splinter group of the Quakers, known as the `Shaking
Quakers' or `Shakers', highlighted a more enigmatic form of the
Quaker commitment toward `spiritual' regeneration. Led by two
Quakers, Jane and James Wardley, who embraced the millennial
teachings of the biblical prophets, the Shakers were established in
Manchester in 1747. As their name implied, the Shakers encouraged
uninhibited participation in their unstructured, emotional forms of
worship and interpreted the spiritual visitation experienced during
such meetings as con®rmation of Christ's imminent second coming.
Heralding celibacy as an essential requirement of salvation, the
nucleus of the Shaker community moved to America in 1774. There,
under the charismatic leadership of Anne Lee, a former Manchester
factory worker who had joined the Shakers at the age of twenty-
three, the Shakers set up a self-contained community in Watervleit,
New York. Although they never speci®cally aligned themselves to
any overt demands for abolition, the philosophical and practical
ideologies of the Shaker communities were essentially founded upon
a belief in sexual and racial equality and their belief in prophetic
forms of spiritual manifestation provided a more extreme articula-
tion of the self-conscious expression characterised by radical dis-
senting Protestantism. Anticipating feminist critiques of religious
institutions, in 1778 Lee declared herself to be `the ®rst Mother, or
spiritual parent in the line of the female' within whom the `Word'
dwelt spiritually, the `second Eve' and second heir in the `covenant
of life': Ì am Anne the Word!'. During the 1780s and 1790s, Shakerism
developed from being a charismatic movement to a structured
organisation, characterised by the tenets of communal ownership,
celibacy, paci®sm and the establishment of parallel men and
women's orders.67 By the time of the sect's peak in the 1800s, the
number of Shaker communities in America reached a total of
eighteen, each with approximately 6,000 members.68
the society for the abolition of the slave trade

In August 1782, acting on behalf of the Quakers in that state, the
Philadelphia Meeting for Sufferings dispatched a letter to its London
counterpart, urging it to use its in¯uence to bring about a cessation
of the slave trade. In the summer of 1783, the London Meeting for
Sufferings approved a petition calling on Parliament to declare the
slave trade illegal. In an effort to advance this cause, the London
Quakers set up two embryonic antislavery societies whose main task
over the next four years was to promote the antislavery campaign.
This they achieved through the distribution within the metropolis
and the provinces of abolitionist material and the circulation of
petitions and tracts, including Joseph Wood's Thoughts on the Slavery of
the Negroes (1786), Anthony Benezet's A Caution and Warning to Great
Britain and her Colonies (1766) and the London Meeting for Suffering's
own text, The Cause of Our Fellow Creatures the Oppressed Africans
(1784).69
Strategically limiting its attentions to the abolition of the slave
trade rather than the abolition of slavery itself, the Society for the
Abolition of the Slave Trade sought to establish active auxiliary
organisations throughout the country in order to supplement the
®nancial support it received from the Quakers.70 This strategy was
championed by Thomas Clarkson's series of lecture tours during
1787±1788 and his collation of extensive information about the slave
trade. Having interviewed over two thousand seamen and examined
numerous shipholds and naval records, Clarkson presented his
evidence to the Privy Council on 27 July 1788, thereby endeavouring
to persuade the government to establish other forms of commerce in
Africa.71 Clarkson's lectures, together with the publication of An
Essay on Slavery and the Commerce of the Human Species (1789) and An
Essay on the Impolicy of the African Slave Trade in Two Parts (1788),
launched the Abolition Society as a signi®cant public campaign.72 In
his Essay on Slavery, Clarkson denounced the African trade as
ìnjustice and inhumane' while his Essay on Impolicy undertook to
demonstrate that such a trade was as ìmpolitick' as it was inef®cient:
I shall shew ®rst, that it is in the power of the planters, if they please, to do
without fresh supplies from the coast: I shall then shew, that if the
importation of slaves is prohibited, no such want will be found, but on the
other hand, that the number of cultivators will increase; and, lastly, that both
the planters, the slaves, and the islands, will be bene®ted by the change.73
Two essential elements informing the success of the Society's

campaign were ®rstly, its internationalist agenda and secondly, its links
with the increasingly popular tenets of radical dissenting Protes-
tantism. The informal relationship which already existed between
British and American abolitionists were consolidated by the Society's
correspondence with the leading antislavery groups in Philadelphia
and New York, and subsequently with the establishment of Les Amis
des Noirs in Paris in 1788.74 Hence the strength of the Society's
parliamentary campaign lay essentially within its ìnternational'
spiritual agenda as advanced by well-educated religious enthusiasts
and political philanthropists, such as the Clapham Sect. These
`Saints', as they were also known, consisted of a group of Evangelical
Anglicans led by William Wilberforce, who dedicated themselves to
the urgent moral and spiritual issues ignored by institutionalised
Anglicanism. Wilberforce's own religious conversion, inspired after
his reading of Philip Doddridge's Rise And Progress of Religion in the Soul
(1745), had occurred during his grand tour of the Continent in 1783.
In that tract, Doddridge had de®ned religion as a spiritual `sense of
God on the Soul', an aspect of conscious self-re¯ection which
Wilberforce was to fuse with political activism.75 Soon after his
conversion, Wilberforce was introduced to Clarkson, a meeting
which inspired Wilberforce's collaboration with the abolition com-
mittee and culminated in his representation of the African cause to
Parliament. On 12 May 1789, therefore, having recovered from a
serious illness, Wilberforce presented his ®rst motion for abolition.
During his three-hour long presentation, Wilberforce concentrated
on the damnation effected by England's participation in the slave-
trade, and thereby suggested that the nation's spiritual regeneration
might be achieved by its severance from the trade:
We are all guilty ± we ought all to plead guilty, and not to exculpate
ourselves by throwing the blame on others . . . When we re¯ect it is we
ourselves that have degraded them [the Africans] to that wretched
brutishness and barbarity which we now plead as the justi®cation of our
guilt . . . What a morti®cation must we feel at having so long neglected to
think of our guilt, or to attempt any reparation!76
This extension of the `discourse' of spiritual renewal, on both
national and individual terms, was fundamental to the success of
the abolition campaign. It formed a sophisticated progression of
the focus upon self-examination and articulation popularised by
radical dissenting Protestantism, yet maintained an infectious,
zealous stance. It was, therefore, a complex strategy; and one
consequence of this fusion of spiritual and liberationist discourse
within a nationalist framework (a kind of national self-authentica-
tion) was the inauguration of a renewed zeal for missionary
ideology.
john wesley, methodism and abolition

As the son of the Anglican vicar, Samuel Wesley, and grandson of the
famous Presbyterian divine, Samuel Annesley, John Wesley's birth-
right metaphorically reunited the severance between Anglicans and
Dissenters which had occurred at the beginning of the eighteenth
century.77 Raised by his mother as an elect son of the Puritans and
instilled with his father's Anglican fear of the excesses of enthusiasm,
John Wesley was sent to Charterhouse, then Oxford, and was ®nally
ordained as a priest of the Church of England in 1728. At Oxford,
Wesley became a member, and subsequently the leader, of a religious
society which assembled on a regular basis to read the Greek
Testament. Because of the rigorous intensity with which these
individuals pursued their studies and performed their religious
observances, this group of individuals became known collectively as
the `Methodists'. As a group, these Oxford Methodists did not
advance any drastic reformation of the doctrines of the Church.
They were, however, strongly opposed to the Calvinist doctrines of
predestination and election. Moreover, and most important to the
dissemination of the language and ideology of radical dissenting
Protestantism, these Methodists placed a vital emphasis upon their
belief in the individual's personal experience of God's perfecting
grace, a trait which was to become a major structural feature of
narratives (by slaves and others) which combined polemical tactics
with literary expressions of identity.
Wesley's travels amongst the Moravians during a two-year trip to
Georgia between 1735 and 1737 highlighted the fact that the English
clergyman's own ministry had lacked the dynamic spark of personal
salvation. On his return from a visit to the Moravian headquarters
in Germany, therefore, Wesley succeeded in persuading other dis-
senting religious societies in England to adopt a modi®cation of
Moravian practice, which involved intense moments of spiritual
experience witnessed by `choirs' or units of around six people of the
same sex and marital status. 78 In his essay Òn the Causes of
Methodism' (1817), the essayist and critic William Hazlitt satirised
the Methodist movement as a form of religion equipped with its own
`slobbering-gib and go-cart'. According to Hazlitt, the `jargon and
nonsense' of Methodism held a peculiar charm for all those who had
an èqual facility in sinning and repenting': Ìt is a carte blanche for
ignorance and folly!'79 In addition, its proponents were charac-
terised by their ability to `soar' on the `wings of divine love' and revel
in à spiritual sea of boundless nonsense': `To speak of them as they
deserve, they are not well in the ¯esh, and therefore they take refuge
in the spirit'.80 As Hazlitt's satirical diatribe ironically suggests, the
primary emphases of Methodist preaching lay upon the witness of
spiritual visitation, the experience of salvation through faith and a
belief in the possibility of personal triumph over temptation. 81 In his
work, The New Birth: A Sermon on John 3.7 (1784) Wesley described such
a process as an instantaneous transformation of the soul wherein `we
are justi®ed by the grace of God' and `born of the Spirit'.82 Accord-
ingly, his concept of the `new birth' revolved around Pentecostal
images of the descent of the mercurial, indeterminate, nebulous
`breath' of the spirit of God upon his chosen ones:
Being born in sin, we must be born again . . . But how must a man be born
again? . . . The wind bloweth where it listeth . . . The precise manner how it
begins and ends, rises and falls, no man can tell. So is every one that is born of
the Spirit.83
Wesley was careful to distinguish the various stages of salvation,
emphasising that whilst any man was capable of holiness (`grace'), his
liberation from sin (`justi®cation') could occur only following an
intense period of inner struggle and contrition. Whilst `sancti®cation'
denoted the restoration of the soul to its original condition of `liberty',
the experience of `new birth' initiated a conviction in the possibility
rather than in the immediate achievement of sancti®cation.84
From the time of his conviction and the `strange warming of his
heart' in 1738, Wesley advanced his belief in salvation by faith by
gathering around him an organised, itinerant Evangelical ministry,
designed to supplement rather than supplant the role of the estab-
lished Church.85 Yet in his Advice to the People Call'd Methodists (1745),
Wesley de®ned the Methodists as a `new people' whose faith and
love was wrought by the ìnward Witness' of the spirit of God: that
`Supernatural evidence . . . of things not seen'.86 Similarly, in his
Character of a Methodist (1743), Wesley called upon Methodists to live
according to the `method of the Bible' and to direct their lives in
accordance with an habitual philanthropic disposition towards all
men, a request which was to develop into a demand for blacks'
liberation from enslavement:
As he [the Methodist] has Time, he does Good unto All Men, unto
Neighbours and Strangers, Friends and Enemies. And that, in every
possible Kind; not only to their Bodies, by feeding the Hungry, cloathing the
Naked, visiting those that are sick or in Prison; but much more does he labour to
do Good to their Souls, as of the Ability which GOD giveth.87
Furthermore, in a subtle critique of the authority of the national
church, Wesley de®ned the written word of God as the ònly and
suf®cient rule' of belief:
We believe indeed, That All Scripture is given by Inspiration of GOD; and herein
are we distinguished from Jews, Turks and In®dels. We believe this written
Word of GOD to be the Only and Suf®cient Rule, both of Christian Faith and
Practice.88
With its emphasis on personal salvation made possible by the
`spirit of God', the concept of `new birth' described by the Scriptures
and promoted by Methodism fused easily with a discourse of self-
authorisation. In this way, the discourse of spiritual regeneration
popularised by radical dissenting Protestants provided an important
means of realising the self 's unconditional liberation from prescribed
socioeconomic boundaries. Moreover, the pragmatic individualism
embraced by Methodism and other evangelical revivalist movements
played a crucial role in the advancement of abolitionist demands. 89
As noted in his journal entry of 12 February 1772, Wesley had
encountered Anthony Benezet's work less than two years prior to the
publication of his own Thoughts Upon Slavery (1774).90 In this tract,
widely distributed amongst Methodist societies, Wesley petitioned
slaveholders, demanding that they improve their ways in order that
they might receive salvation from God. By consolidating the
evangelical motif with the plight of the slaves themselves, Wesley
prophesied both their spiritual and physical salvation by God's
divine providence: Ò burst thou all their chains in sunder; more
especially the chains of their sins: Thou, O Saviour of all, make
them free, that they may be free indeed!'91 Wesley's Thoughts Upon
Slavery presented a powerful critique of the slave ideology upheld in
the colonies and condemned what he de®ned as ùnjust' colonial
statutes which legitimised the murder of runaway slaves by any
means that a slaveholder thought ®t. For Wesley, such legislation
contravened the concept of `natural justice' as de®ned by Lord
Mans®eld's ruling, whilst slavery transgressed the `very principles
upon which all sales are founded' since `no equivalent can be given
for life or Liberty'.92 Wesley's abolitionist text therefore pronounced
the superiority of a divine system of justice at odds with plantation
jurisprudence:
Notwithstanding ten thousand Laws, right is right, and wrong is wrong still
. . . Where is the Justice of in¯icting the severest evils, on those that have
done us no wrong? . . . Of tearing them from their native country, and
depriving them of liberty itself ? 93
Since England's economic advancement had been gained from the

pro®ts of the slave trade, it carried with it an even higher price, the
`violation of Justice, Mercy and Truth', as determined by God's will:
It were better that all those Islands should remain uncultivated for ever . . .
than they should be cultivated at so high a price . . . Liberty is the right of
every human creature, as soon as he breathes the vital air. And no human
law can deprive him of that right, which he derives from the law of
nature.94
On a similar note, Wilberforce's Letter on the Abolition of the Slave Trade
to the Freeholders and Other Inhabitants of Yorkshire (1807) concluded:
Is it not utterly astonishing, that Great Britain should have been one of the
prime agents in carrying on this trade of blood? . . . We must believe that a
continued course of wickedness, oppression, and cruelty . . . must infallibly
bring down upon us the heaviest judgements of the Almighty . . . It cannot
be denied, that these are circumstances in the situation of this country,
which, reasoning from experience, we must call marks of a declining empire,
but we have, as I ®rmly believe, the means within ourselves of arresting the
progress of this decline.95
Methodism's critique of the slave trade as propounded by Wesley

and his followers attracted signi®cant support from other non-
conformist sects within the various American colonies and provided
an adaptable template of liberationist demands, a template that was
later reshaped by others including the slaves themselves. In this way,
Methodism distinguished itself from other Evangelical sects which
maintained the Calvinistic doctrine of election.96 In his auto-
biographical text, the enigmatic revivalist preacher, George White-
®eld described the èarly Movings of the blessed Spirit' upon his
heart, his liberation from sensual appetite and his deliverance by the
`Spirit of God': `God spake to me by his Spirit, and I was no longer
dumb'.97 The publication of White®eld's `Letter to the Inhabitants
of Virginia, Maryland, North and South Carolina, Concerning
Their Negroes' articulated the preacher's unambiguous denuncia-
tion of slave abuse within the context of theological debate: Ì must
inform you in the Meekness and Gentleness of Christ, that I think
God has a Quarrel with you for your Abuse of and Cruelty to the
poor Negroes'.98 Not suprisingly, White®eld's proposals were met
with vehement attacks from various quarters, including the Bishop
of London's (Edmund Gibson's) Short Preservative Against the Doctrines
Rev'd by Mr. White®eld and his Adherents (1739) and Tristam Land's Letter
to the Revd Mr. White®eld Designed to Correct His Mistaken Account of
Regeneration, or the New Birth (1739).99 Yet White®eld's text did not,
however, articulate any radical demands for abolition; rather, it
advanced a de®nition of blacks as the spiritual equals of their white
masters and therefore worthy of conversion:
Enslaving or misusing their [the slaves'] Bodies would, comparatively
speaking, be an inconsiderable Evil, was proper care taken of their Souls.
But I have great Reason to believe, that most of you, on Purpose, keep your
Negroes ignorant of Christianity . . . I believe . . . these despised Slaves will
®nd the Gospel of Christ to be the Power of God to their Salvation.100
By targeting the more vulnerable issue of the conditions of the

slaves rather than slavery itself, British and American abolitionists
such as White®eld avoided any serious con¯ict over the sensitive
issue of private property. Rather, they promoted a revised image of
the nation's role as `liberator' of the slaves from spiritual darkness.
As a consequence, the Society for the Abolition of the Slave Trade
issued a public disclaimer in 1788 which stipulated that the abolition
of slavery had `never formed any part of the Plan of this Society'.
Instead the Society insisted that slaves would be treated more
humanely if the trade were abolished and the price of slaves
increased.101 Similarly, in his two-volume work, The History of the
Rise, Progress, and Accomplishment of the Abolition of the African Slave Trade
by the British Parliament (1808), Thomas Clarkson reiterated the
Society's strategic concern for plantation owners and its distinction
between `the evil of the Slave trade' and `the evil of slavery itself ':
By aiming at the abolition of the Slave-trade, they [the Committee] were
laying the axe at the very root. By doing this, and this only, they would not incur
the objection, that they were meddling with the property of the planters,
and letting loose an irritated race of beings, who, in consequence of all the vices
and in®rmities, which a state of slavery entails upon those who undergo it,
were un®t for their freedom.102
Nevertheless, the Quakers played a vital role in the abolition of

the slave trade, contributing money, manpower and extremely
effective ideas to the cause. On 25 March 1807, the resolution to
`take effectual measures for the abolition' of the trade was passed in
both the House of Lords and the Commons. As a result, the Society
for the Abolition of the Slave Trade was reformed as the African
Institution, one of the primary aims of which was to establish
alternative forms of legitimate commerce with Africa. It was not
until more than a decade later that the struggle for the abolition of
the slave trade developed into a movement abnegating slavery itself.
Consequently, in 1823, the Society for the Mitigation and Gradual
Abolition of Slavery throughout the British Dominions was formed.
It was, however, a society dedicated not to the immediate emancipa-
tion of slaves, but to the advancement of gradual plans of emancipa-
tion and the protection of the slaves' welfare. In keeping with this,
Wilberforce's Appeal to the Religion, Justice and Humanity of the Inhabitants
of the British Empire in Behalf of the Negro Slaves in the West Indies, declared
slavery a system of `gross' injustice, `heathenish irreligion and
immorality' and ùnprecedented degradation'.103 The appeal was
met with much opposition, including Sir Henry William Martin's
Counter-Appeal in Answer to Àn Appeal' from William Wilberforce (1823)
which claimed that slavery was neither ìnjust' nor `displeasing to
God'; nor could it be `safely or advantageously abolished in the West
Indies'.104
It was not until 14 May 1833 that slavery was ®nally deemed illegal
throughout the British colonies, with effect from the following year.
The protean discourse of radical dissenting Protestantism had
achieved a successful challenge to slave ideology, yet, as I shall
elucidate below, it also introduced revised forms of colonial expan-
sionism, strategically premised upon the principles of missionary
ideology.
metamorphosis: the discourse of the spirit, missionary

ideology and the dynamics of empire
Descend, bright Spirit of eternal Love
Illumine the dark corners of the earth! 105
From the time of the crusades, Christian ideology endorsed a
classi®cation of cultural òtherness' in terms of spiritual deprivation
and inferiority. Taking its cue from the proselyte teachings of the
New Testament, where Jesus commanded his disciples to go and
`teach all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father, and of
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost', the advancement of Christianity
was often infused with missionary zeal.106 During the late eighteenth
century this desire to propagate the Christian faith by missionary
enterprise was strategically combined with the scienti®c, ethno-
graphical and commercial motives of colonial expansionism, a
process exempli®ed by the activities of the Sierra Leone
Company.107 Indeed, on January 1, 1808, the day that slave-trading
became illegal, Sierra Leone, the British Colony for Ex-Slaves in
West Africa passed from the control of the Directors of the
Company to the British Crown.
Following the decision of the Court of the King's Bench over the
Somerset case of 1772, a signi®cant number of blacks in England had
drifted into destitution and poverty. Similarly, the demobilisation of
blacks who had served with the British forces in the American War
further augmented the number of poor blacks already resident in
England.108 In 1786, the year that the Society for Effecting the
Abolition of the Slave Trade was founded, members of that Society
formed an additional society under the leadership of Jonas Hanway.
This `Committee for the Relief of the Black Poor' was set up to
discuss ideas concerning the resettlement of ex-slaves and the
establishment of a missionary base for expeditions into the African
interior. In the same year, the Committee published Henry Smeath-
man's manifesto, Plan of a Settlement to Be Made Near Sierra Leona, on the
Grain Coast of Africa (1786).109 In 1771, Smeathman had travelled to
the Banana Islands off the coast of Sierra Leone, West Africa, in
order to collect botanical specimens for Sir Joseph Banks' collection
at Kew Gardens.110 Smeathman's Plan of a Settlement outlined plans
for the transportation and `happy establishment of Blacks and
People of Colour' in one of the most `pleasant and fertile countries
in the known world' under the direction of the British Govern-
ment.111 His text proposed that each repatriated black would be
allowed, `by common consent, to possess as much land' as he or she
could cultivate in the mild and fertile climate of the country:
An opportunity so advantageous may perhaps never be offered to them
[black persons, people of colour and refugees from America] again; for
they and their prosperity may enjoy perfect freedom. Settled in a country
congenial to their constitutions, and having the means, by moderate labour,
of the most comfortable livelihood, they will ®nd a certain and secure
retreat from their former sufferings.112
For Clarkson, as for others, the Sierra Leone project presented an
embryonic prototype of both a revised colonial plan and the means
of establishing civilisation in Africa: those who were to settle there
were to èndeavour to establish a new species of commerce, and to
promote cultivation in its neighbourhood by free labour'. 113 Having
based his opinion of the Sierra Leone project from the accounts by
Smeathman and the former slaver-resident, John Newton, Granville
Sharp issued prospective emigrants (including poor blacks rounded
up from the streets of London) with certi®cates to protect them
against slave-traders. These documents were intended to guarantee
the blacks' status as free citizens of the `Colony of Sierra Leone or
the Land of Freedom'.114 With the development of schools and places
of worship, Africa was to be freed from the vicious and barbarous
effects of the slave trade so that it might `be in a better state to
comprehend and receive the sublime truths of the Christian religion'.115 Initially,
Sharp's idea of forming a company on behalf of the settlers with the
aid of his friends on the Relief Committee was met with hostility in
Parliament. However, with a shift of emphasis from the philan-
thropic concerns of the Sierra Leone Company to the commercial
objectives of its directors, a Bill to incorporate the Company was
passed in June 1791.116 The success of this revised Bill indicated the
mercurial interchange between abolitionist, missionary and colonial
ideologies: not unlike plantocracy, Sierra Leone was to function as a
Province of Freedom governed by absentees in England.
Reports discrediting the motives behind the Sierra Leone expedi-
tion, however, dramatically undermined the original enthusiasm of
the settlers, and by November 1786, of the 700 who had originally
signed up, only 259 had boarded the departing vessels. At this point,
the Committee persuaded the City authorities to round up any black
beggars or destitute ex-slaves found on the streets, and under the
command of Captain Thompson, the allotted `repatriation' ships
®nally left London on 8 April 1787 with 350 black settlers.117 Within
three months of their arrival in Sierra Leone, one third of the
prospective settlers had died: eighty-four as a result of the dif®cult
voyage and the remainder from the effects of fever and dysentery to
which they were exposed upon their arrival in the colony. Even
when the relentless and unexpected rainy season ceased, early
attempts to cultivate the land proved disastrous. The `promised' land
which Smeathman had declared to be suf®ciently fertile to sustain a
whole agricultural community proved in reality to be thinly covered
with soil. However, both the author of the Sierra Leone plan and
Captain Thompson claimed that the high mortality rate was due to
the inadequacy of the settlers and in 1792, the Sierra Leone
Company embarked on its second venture, which involved the
transference of over 1,000 men and women of African descent from
Nova Scotia.118
In her Narrative of Two Voyages to the River Sierra Leone, During the Years
1791±1792±1793 (1794), Anna Maria Falconbridge, who in 1791 had
accompanied her surgeon husband, Alexander Falconbridge, to
Sierra Leone, dismissed the Clapham Sect's `philanthropic' colonial
plan as `premature, hair-brained and ill-digested'.119 As Moira
Ferguson notes in her analysis of Falconbridge's text, her Narrative
disclosed a proud commitment to abolition.120 However, whereas
Falconbridge's text presents a critique of the quiet alliance between
colonial ideology and missionary enterprise ± `Be assured, however
disinterested and friendly they [the British] appear at this moment,
they are aiming at some sel®sh purposes' ± her Narrative simultane-
ously reveals a destabilising fear of cultural `subalterity' which
threatened to undermine the legitimacy of her presence in Africa.121
Hence, having witnessed the Africans' symbolic public burning of
ef®gies of the `radical' champions of the west, `Mr. W-ll-ce and Tom
Paine' ± an act which she identi®es as hideous, uncontrollable and
anarchic ± Falconbridge's Narrative concludes with a note of destabi-
lised cultural hierarchy and deep-seated anxieties of insurrection.
Dismissing her previous abolitionist tendencies as manifestations of
her youthful naivety, Falconbridge reprioritises her former loyalties
and (re)determines the slave trade as an evil `necessary' for the
development of Africa's sense of religious morality: Ì must think
favourably of the Slave Trade, while those innate prejudices, ignor-
ance, superstition, and savageness, overspread Africa'.122 Therefore,
although Falconbridge's text appears at times to transcend the
restrictive requirements of colonial discourse and indeed, to reject
stereotypical portrayals of Africans, her Narrative is informed by an
overriding endeavour to locate the spiritual regeneration of Africa
on distinctly western terms, a condition against which slaves were to
struggle.
As Falconbridge's text suggests, by the turn of the century, the
dynamics of missionary enterprise were often inseparable from the
distinctly political aims of British imperial ideology. Following the
establishment of the Sierra Leone Company, the Eclectic Society,
whose members included John Newton and Richard Cecil, discussed
ideas concerning the most ef®cient methods of propagating the
gospel throughout Africa. As a result, the Baptist and London
Missionary Society and the Society for Missions to Africa and the
East (later the `Church Missionary Society') were formed.123 With
the adaptation of Bell's `national system' of education, the schools of
the Church Missionary Society endeavoured to teach the principles
of Evangelical Christianity and the virtue of hard work in Sierra
Leone.124 As Wilberforce's parliamentary debate of 22 June 1813
con®rmed, these missionaries vigorously promoted Christian ideol-
ogy as the only available pathway to spiritual and temporal
well-being: `That remedy, Sir, is Christianity . . . for Christianity
assumes her true character . . . when she takes under her protection
those poor degraded beings'.125 Four decades later, in the preface
accompanying his treatise, A Brief History of the Wesleyan Missions on the
Western Coast of Africa (1851), William Fox de®ned Africa as a land of
`danger, of dissolution, and of death . . . with its brutal rites and
ceremonies, its devil-worship [and] sanguinary superstition'.126 For
Fox, the `history' of West Africa was primarily an account of the
`valuable lives' of those missionaries who had attempted to spread
the `blessings of a Saviour's love' among the numerous tribes living
along the western coast.127 Yet as these `modern missionaries'
functioned as `successors of the apostles' they simultaneously ad-
vanced England's colonial sovereignty, `the envy and admiration of
the world':
The `signs' which have followed the labours of the missionaries of various
denominations on the Western coast of Africa, are such as to warrant, not
only the hope, but the absolute certainty, that . . . results still more great and
glorious will follow.128
Thomas Coke's History of the West Indies (1808±1811) similarly trans-
lated the biblical concept of `redemption' into a narrative delineating
the mechanisms of colonial expansionism and the `necessary' sup-
pression of anti-imperial insurrections in the West Indies:
And yet it is to the gospel, that Great Britain, in all probability, stands indebted for the
preservation of many of her richest colonial possessions even to the present day; that
her swarthy subjects have not revolted like those of a neighbouring island;
and committed those depredations on the white inhabitants, which
humanity even shudders to name.129
According to Coke, the `bene®ts' which were to result from Britain's
ìntercourse with distant parts', depended upon the establishment of
a civilised state amongst the native inhabitants and their `habitual
indulgence' in violent passions.130 In fact, in its account of the
dissemination of the gospel of Jesus Christ, Coke's `history' of the
West Indies fuses territorial expansionism with missionary ideology
by presenting a sacred history of those islands on revised Christian
terms:
But for the unerring page of sacred History, we should have known nothing of
the conduct of God towards the human race . . . The origin of justice and
of law would have been alike unknown; and our moral and intellectual
condition would have been somewhat similar to that of the swarthy
inhabitants of those islands which we are about to explore . . . History in
general, may be considered as a science without which all others would be
useless; and without much impropriety we may denominate it the memory of
the world.131
Three decades later, Thomas Fowell Buxton's The African Slave
Trade and Its Remedy (1839) emphasised the Christian missionaries'
role in establishing the universal abolition of the slave trade. This
narrative of abolition promoted a vision of England's redemptive
role, rather than its culpability and envisaged a dissolution of the
boundaries separating the distinct categories of `legitimate com-
merce', agricultural development and Africa's conversion within a
single, uni®ed imperial schema: `The merchant, the philanthropist,
the patriot, and the Christian, may unite'.132 Buxton's text effected a
strategic translation of the embryonic prototype of spiritual regen-
eration into a `mutant' discourse of national ideology, the `deliver-
ance' of a thousand nations under the `divine' aegis of the British
Empire:
A nobler achievement now invites us. I believe that Great Britain can, if
she will, under the favour of the Almighty, confer a blessing on the human
race. It may be that at her bidding a thousand nations now steeped in wretchedness,
in brutal ignorance, in devouring superstitions . . . [shall] emerge from their
debasement, enjoy a long life of blessings ± education, agriculture,
commerce, peace, industry and the wealth that springs from it; and, far
above all, shall willingly receive that religion which, while it confers
innumerable temporal blessings, opens the way to an eternal futurity of
happiness.133
According to commentators such as Buxton, Britain's unquestion-
able responsibility had been to transform and redeem the African
continent of its former cultural epistemologies: `to take up the cause
upon Christian grounds'. This discourse of spiritual regeneration on
national colonialist terms was, however, ultimately dependent upon
a genre of spiritual autobiography which emerged in the late
eighteenth century under the in¯uence of radical dissenting Protes-
tantism. While Buxton's text envisaged the `deliverance' (and
indeed, the appropriation) of one culturally distinct nation by
another, the autobiographical narratives re¯ected and resisted this
paradigm of the self by the agency of an indeterminate, `nebulous',
spiritual other.
chapter two
Radical dissent and spiritual autobiography

Joanna Southcott, John Newton and William Cowper
Taking their cue from the Puritan legacy of literary testimony and
self-scrutiny in spiritual narratives such as John Bunyan's Grace
Abounding to the Chief of Sinners (1666), Edward Taylor's Spiritual Relation
(1679), and Increase and Cotton Mather's respective biographical
accounts of 1670 and 1724, those authors in eighteenth-century
England and America who felt impelled to record the workings of
the divine upon their souls were predominantly recent converts to
dissenting religious groups such as the Quakers, Methodists and
Shakers.1 Indeed, the founder of Methodism, John Wesley, speci®c-
ally requested that itinerant preachers employed under his sanction
should `give him in writing an account of their personal history'.
This would incorporate a detailed personalised account of their
conversion, `the circumstances under which they were led to minister
the word of life' and the `principal events connected with their
public labours'.2 In these composite forms of autobiographical
testimony, select events from the author's past were singled out and
posited within a framework of spiritual autobiography, the central
features of which were to have a predominant in¯uence on narra-
tives by eighteenth-century dissenters, Romantics and Africans who
had either escaped or managed to buy their freedom from slavery.
Taking their lead from Wesley's famous `Witness of the Spirit'
sermon of April 1767, in which the Spirit of God was identi®ed as an
ìnward impression on the soul', these spiritual `narratives' provided
an important literary paradigm in their focus upon signi®cant
moments of conversion, spiritual rebirth and miraculous liberation
from the sinful burden of the `self '.3
The `best' of these autobiographical testimonies, which originally
appeared in The Arminian Magazine, were collected by Thomas
Jackson and republished as The Lives of the Early Methodist Preachers
(1837).4 These conversion narratives by individuals such as John
48
Radical dissent and spiritual autobiography 49
Pritchard and Benjamin Rhodes presented details of the authors'
`self-examination' or soul-searching, commencing with recollections
of childhood, accounts of various transgressions, repentance and
®nally, rededication to the service of God via the Pentecostal gifts of
the Holy Spirit.5 The dynamics of these `spiritual' visitations were
variously ®gured as evidence of the ùnspeakable joy' of God's
extraordinary love and as moments witnessing the divine manifesta-
tion of gifts of tongues and of prophecy.6 Moreover, as exempli®ed
by the concluding narrative of The Lives of the Early Methodist Preachers,
the `spiritual' awakening of John Pritchard transcribed a complex
process of metamorphosis, representing both a liberation from
ènslavement' and a transformation of spiritual sterility into ecstatic
bliss:
I would not be yet healed, until I heard Mr. Jacob preach from these words,
`There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God'. O,
how did my heart bound! `My chains fell off at a stroke! my soul was free;
and found redemption, Lord, in thee!' My wilderness soul became a
pleasant ®eld, and my desert heart like the garden of the Lord; the promises
¯owed in upon me.7
The model informing these spiritual autobiographies lent itself to
a variety of narratives of identity, polemic and dissent texts not
included within Jackson's predominantly male collection of authors.
Indeed, the immense popularity of this particular trope of discourse
or mode of articulation rested upon its fundamentally heteroge-
neous and protean nature, a versatility which not only allowed but
encouraged an indulgence in symbolic reading. As such, it
authorised the articulation of disparate autobiographies, alternative
®ctions and lucid utterances of sociopolitical dissent in an accept-
able form. This versatile schema of spiritual discourse not only
endorsed an acceptable genre of autobiographical writing, but also
strategically disclosed a paradigm of paradox in terms of the
individual's con®guration of identity. Hence, whereas the tightly
structured framework of spiritual autobiography appeared to
impose a strict codi®cation upon the narrative, the spirit's descent
upon the author marked a radical condition of excess and disorder,
volatility and chaos. This powerful interplay between the self and a
spiritual other simultaneously revealed the absolute loss of the
individual self to another and the quintessential inauguration of
that individual as an autonomous (and indeed, redeemed) being. In
so doing, the `spirit' was posited as an authoritative challenge to
established mechanisms of control and sociopolitical orthodoxy.
While appearing to observe the con®nes of acceptable discourse, the
centre of these narratives of spiritual regeneration divulged a
radical, autonomous self-evolution both from within and without the
sociopolitical sphere, thus determining the `spirit' as a volatile
metaphor (or extension) of the individual's emergent self-conscious-
ness and powerful dissent.
joanna southcott and the evolution of feminised

spiritual discourse
I live with Him ± I see His face ±
I go no more away.8
Within these narratives the acquisition of subjectivity or subject
identity necessitated a form of creative resistance to the symbolic
order. But `subjectivity', as the term implies, not only denoted a
philosophical or abstract ethical position but also a subjection to
another's system ± a voluntary adoption of subject positions to some
other Àbsolute' Subject or Being.9 For the radical prophets and
slaves alike, this Àbsolute' Subject was de®ned as `the' spirit.
Submission to this authoritative entity relocated the self at the
centre of the text/prophecy as nothingness, absence, a `manifesta-
tion' of the concept of zero. However, by some curious and mystical
process, subjection to the spirit initiated a power that was beyond,
before and within the self. It was a discourse which identi®ed the self
as absolute `presence' and demanded a transformation of societal
boundaries. For those possessed by this spirit, the sentient body in
possession inscribed an important form of cultural memory, power
and dissent. Incorporated within the prophetic confessional writings
and slave texts of the eighteenth century, the discourse of the spirit
hence implicated a discourse of the self, a metaphysical thought
system in which the self functioned as the ®rst principle. In other
words, it was a system in which the self was presented as the
unimpeachable ground within which the whole hierarchy of mean-
ings might be constructed.10 For authors such as Joanna Southcott
and Richard Brothers, excess in terms of literary language, fervour,
prophecy, passion and obsession, signi®ed an energy or volatility
which troubled the boundaries of the dominant symbolic order ±
such as the law, state, church or patriarchal code. As a disruption of
authoritarian discourse, the language of spiritual excess introduced
a subversive or semiotic openness across the `closed' symbolic
order.11
Following on from the prophetic writings of the mid-seventeenth
century, the discourse of the spirit embodied within the prophetic
narratives and spiritual autobiographies of the eighteenth century
presented vivid claims of hypostatic experience, inspired utterance,
rhythmic rapture, literal and metaphysical mergings and an impor-
tant prioritisation of the concept of the prophet as God's agent.12
Such manifestations of `supernatural' inspiration carried with them
a subversive, millenarian content by their departure from the
established political and religious order. Dreams and visions were
identi®ed in terms of their relation to the biblical prophecies of the
Book of Daniel and Revelation, whilst the `prophetic' individual was
determined as a valid vehicle for divine authority and spiritual
utterance. For women and slaves alike, the dynamic language of
dreams, prophecy and spiritual/linguistic excess evoked an aura of
performance which articulated and transformed their position of
estrangement and isolation.13 Responsibility for the narrative was
never assumed by the `speaker', but by the `spirit' for whom the
shaman performed or mediated.14 It was a linguistic zone which
`spoke' of liberation from both socioeconomic and linguistic con®ne-
ment; it was a `speaking in tongues' which both described and
prohibited entry into the secrets and mysteries of language.
At this point it is useful to refer to Kristeva's idea of the loss of the
self in the intertextual experience and the semiotic/symbolic sites of
articulation. For Kristeva, the discovery of the self depends on an act
of submission to another ± hence the bewilderment, confusion and
terror of submission is a necessary condition of self-discovery and
self-recognition. For the slaves, `loss' of the self simultaneously
denoted their submission to another culture and their reemergence
and relocation as ìntertextual' selves oscillating between the narra-
tives of Africa and the west. As the narrators (both slave and
otherwise) of these spiritual autobiographies looked outward toward
nature for signs of providential direction, they also looked inward in
order to register the effects of the divine spirit upon their (past) lives.
Autobiographical `recollections' were therefore used to identify
moments of divine intervention and forewarning which, according
to these authors, had protected them from irreversible damnation
and inaugurated their subsequent reorientation along the path of
deliverance. In many cases, as with the Puritan narratives of the
sixteenth and seventeenth century, the con®guration of dreamscape
provided a suitable framework for (apocalyptical) revelations of
divine authority and radical critiques of the established order.15 For
the slaves, the language of dreams and visions proffered a displaced
reference to spiritual possession characteristic of African belief
systems.
If the language of salvation and prophetic narrative promoted by
radical dissenting Protestantism provided a signi®cant means of
`liberation' of some kind, it also provided an important means of
identity formation and expression for eighteenth-century women. In
its early years, Methodism did not object to the emergence of a
female ministry, but rather encouraged an extended relationship
with female ministers.16 By the 1800s however, most Methodist
organisations refused to recognise female `spiritual' leadership, with
the exception of the Primitive Methodists and the Bible Christians, a
fact that makes the popularity of the Devonshire upholstress and
domestic servant, Joanna Southcott, all the more remarkable. Born
in 1750 and baptised at the parish church of Ottery St. Mary, in 1792
Joanna Southcott claimed that a mysterious Voice (`the Spirit of
Prophecy') had informed her that she was to become the New
Saviour, the `woman cloth'd with the Sun' from the Book of
Revelations, sent to redeem mankind from the Fall.17 Joanna
therefore presented herself to the various communities of Devon and
London as the chosen prophetess, the `second Eve' who had been
selected by God to prophesy the end of Satan's reign on earth.
Jeered at and ostracised by local Methodists, Southcott published a
tract prophesying the approaching apocalypse, immediately prior to
her departure for London. In this text, entitled The Strange Effects of
Faith; With Remarkable Prophecies, Made in 1792, of Things Which Are To
Come: Also, Some Account of My Life (1801±1802), Southcott outlined the
emergence of a transgressively apocalyptic, distinctly female pro-
phetic tradition, a declaration which for some con®rmed her role as
Wesley's successor and identi®ed the speculative quality of her work
as a radical critique of eighteenth-century forms of control, know-
ledge, opportunity and freedom:
Quench not the Spirit; despise not prophecy; for the time is come, that
your women shall prophesy, your young men shall dream dreams, your old
men shall see visions; for the day of the Lord is at hand. 18
Within eighteen months and following an intense period of propa-
gandising activity, 8,000 persons declared themselves Southcottian
converts. By 1808, over 14,000 tokens of the Joannite, a folded slip of
paper inscribed with Southcott's signature, had been purchased, a
®gure which in London alone had risen to some 100,000 by the time
of her death in 1814.19
In the `Preface' to her Strange Effects of Faith, Southcott expounded
a radical revision of conventional spiritual autobiography on gender
terms which, in its explicit defence of woman's spiritual equality, if
not her superiority, inscribed radical proposals for social reform
under the aegis of divine revelation. The text which followed ful®lled
the structural requirements of the redemption narrative by tracing
details of the author's visitations from the Holy Spirit, events which
Southcott construed as unquestionable con®rmations of her divine
election:
The word of God is as a book that is sealed, so that neither the learned nor
unlearned can read (that is to say, understand) it; for it was sealed up in the
bosom of the Father, till he thought proper to break the seals, and reveal it
to a Woman, as it is written in the Revelations.20
Similarly, Southcott described penetration by the Spirit as intense
moments of possession, during which her own individuality was
given over to another, as she was ®lled with divine power:
All of a sudden the Spirit entered in me with such power and fury, that my
senses seemed lost; I felt as though I had power to shake the house down,
and yet I felt as though I could walk in air, at the time the Spirit remained
in me; but did not remember many words I said, as they were delivered
with such fury that took my senses; but as soon as the Spirit had left me, I
grew weak as before.21
Southcott's revisionary female theology implicitly challenged the
established religious and patriarchal traditions of late eighteenth-
century England and redetermined the female body as an important
textual medium. Her claims to gnostic authority provided her with a
means of transcending religious dogma while her own relationship
with the `spirit' compared favourably with that which had ìnspired
all the Prophets' throughout the Bible: `Without the Spirit I am
nothing, without the Spirit I know nothing, and without the Spirit I
can do nothing'.22
Taking her cue from the prognostic writings of Richard Brothers
and other millennial authors, Southcott's A Dispute Between the Woman
and the Powers of Darkness (1802) and The Answer of the Lord to the
Powers of Darkness (1802) extended her claims for spiritual receptivity
and elucidated the speci®c role of women within the ful®lment of
the prophecies.23 Prior to this, in his Revealed Knowledge of the
Prophecies and Times Wrote under the Direction of the Lord God, and
Published by His Second in Command (1794), Brothers, a retired naval
captain, had prophesied the defeat of the monarchy and the ruin of
the empire in a language which combined the `combustible matter'
of poor man's dissent with that of the paraphernalia of the Book of
Revelation.24 Like Southcott, Brothers declared that he had been
selected as the true prophet who would lead the chosen ones toward
the Promised Land:
The following are the words which the Lord God spoke to me in a vision,
soon after I was commanded to write and make known his judgments, for
the good of London and general bene®t of all nations: ± `There is no other man
under the whole heaven that I discover the errors of the Bible to, and
reveal a knowledge how to correct them, so that they may be restored as
they were in the beginning, but yourself.'25
On 4 March 1795, Brothers was charged with ùnlawful. . . dissen-
sion and other disturbances within the realm'. From his con®nement
in a lunatic asylum, Brothers published his Description of Jerusalem
(1801) a text which reiterated his self-identi®cation as the preor-
dained King and Restorer of the Hebrews and endeavoured to
establish an intimate relationship between the Word of God and his
own writings:
God commands me to write to you, and say, ± You see what I have published ±
read it with attention, and treat it with respect; for it is God's word . . . When
I am revealed, then indeed, we become an independent people, and the
Hebrew language will be immediately adopted.26
As with Brothers, the appeal of Joanna Southcott's prophecies lay
in their vivacious combination of desire for personal salvation, self-
authorisation, prophetic idioms and critiques of the church and
gentry.27 Moreover, Southcott's textual defence, A Communication
Given to Joanna In Answer to Mr. Brothers' Last Book, Published the End of
this Year, 1802 suggests that a deep sense of rivalry over prophetic
dominance existed between these individuals. Yet the mercurial
format of spiritual and prophetic discourse enabled a relatively
unproblematic manifestation of their ideologically opposed schemas.
Hence Southcott was able to determine her own power as a revised,
and therefore more effective version, of her male predecessor's, and
identify her own authority as proceeding from an internal rather
than external source of spiritual power:
My heart was deeply wounded to hear read the blasphemy of this last book
[by Richard Brothers] . . . But I was answered in the following manner . . .
Prophecies have ceased in the manner they were given to the Prophets of
old, ever since My coming into the world. For then I told them they should
be warned by the inward moving of My Spirit: and by words being given, like the
sound of the wind, that ye know not from whence it come, or whither it goeth
. . . WOMAN is a type of ME! whose blood was shed for all men to bring
the fruits of the spirit to man.28
Southcott's text redetermined the metaphorical `bride' of Revelation

as a physical, sociohistoric female entity: the author herself, whose
arrival on earth had initiated a severance of womankind's connec-
tion with the curse of the Fall. By using the mechanisms of spiritual
discourse to counter ideologies of female inferiority and sexual
vulnerability based on bodily determinism, Southcott's counter-hege-
monic narrative claimed that through her, women might be re-
deemed and granted their rightful position within the priesthood of
believers.29 The dream-framework of her narrative not only enabled
the exposition of a resolutely female-based model of Christian
redemption, but also endorsed a schema in which the discourse of
the spirit was fused with an erotic discourse of the `¯esh'. Hence the
autobiographical accounts of her `visitations' by the spirit ®gured
simultaneously as the physical grati®cations of a divine lover who
shared her bed:
She felt herself laying as it were, in Heaven, in the hands of the Lord . . .
He arose, and turned himself backwards towards the feet of the bed . . .
His hair was a ¯axen colour, all in disorder around his face . . . his locks
were wet like the dew of night, as though they had been taken out of a
river. The collar of his shirt appeared unbuttoned, and the skin of his
bosom appeared white as the driven snow. Such was the beauty of the
heavenly ®gure that appeared before me in a disordered state . . . He put
out one of his legs to me . . . 30
Southcott's feminised and autobiographical exegesis of the Book of

Revelation ± Ànd there appeared a great wonder in heaven: a
woman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet; and
upon her head a crown of twelve stars' ± strategically reinstated the
apocalyptical marriage within the erotic framework of the biblical
Song of Songs and rede®ned her own role as both Bride of Christ
and messenger of the Messiah's second coming:
When I came at ®rst it was like man alone . . . I left it for my second coming
in the woman . . . to complete MY FATHER'S will; so must I come in the
body as perfect man at ®rst, and in the SPIRIT at my second coming, I must
come made of a woman, made under the law to redeem those that were under
the Law.31
In an effort to ascertain the validity of Southcott's self-proclaimed
prophetic superiority, A Warning to the Whole World from the Sealed
Prophecies of Joanna Southcott (1804) sought to relocate the prophecies
ful®lled by `The Book of Joanna' as the most recent àddition' to the
Book of Revelation. It reported that on 19 January 1803, Southcott's
followers concluded unanimously that `her Calling was of God'.32 In
the seven-day `trial' which took place during December, 1804 at
Neckinger House in Bermondsey, London, a court of twelve judges,
twelve jury men and twenty-four elders con®rmed their continued
faith in Southcott's prophecies and the transcriptions of her spiritual
communications with the `Spirit of the living Lord'.33 The account
of the `trial' recorded in The Life and Prophecies of Joanna Southcott (c.
1815) likened Southcott to Anne Lee, the spiritual leader of the
Shakers and presented her possession by the Spirit (she `felt the
Spirit of the Lord enter within her') as a dissolution of Southcott's
individuality, a necessary precursor to her subsequent emergence as
an autonomous individual ± `she was as a giant refreshed with new
wine' ± endowed with divine power: À woman is now visited by the
Sun of Righteousness, the Spirit of Truth'.34
As Southcott predicted in The Strange Effects of Faith, her alleged
powers of prophecy (and indeed, female self-determination) were
vehemently rejected by critics as blasphemous and false, and the
author accused of witchcraft:
So if a Prophet is deny'd
Then say the Witch is come,
Who can foretel what will befal;
I'm jesting now with man.
After their manner I do speak,
As I have often done,
But soon my fury it will break,
And to the purpose come.
And then you'll ®nd I am no witch,
Nor do the lines agree,
But when my hand begins to touch,
Your witchcraft you will see.35
Accordingly, in his Remarkable Life, Entertaining History and Surprising

Adventures of Joanna Southcott, The Prophetess (1810), R. Hann identi®ed
Southcott's spirit of prophecy as à pretended Mission' of delusion.36
Hann refuted Southcott's proclaimed visionary powers as `hazardous
and very dangerous' and contrary to the `written word of God': Ì
will further af®rm, that whatever visions and dreams support
Joanna's Mission, are not from God, because the doctrines that
Joanna holds forth are diametrically opposed to the doctrines of the
Gospel'.37 Similarly, William Howard's Letter to Joanna Southcott, the
Pretended Prophetess (1810) commenced with a warning to those 20,000
Christians who believed Southcott's `seal' to be a passport to eternal
bliss and that `many false Prophets' were gone out into the World.38
Taking into account Wesley's (metaphorical) emphasis upon the
`new birth' of spiritual renewal, it is not surprising that Southcott
grafted such images of regeneration on to a personalised account of
biological reproduction. Hence, four years later, in 1814, following
the publication of over sixty volumes of prophetic writing and the
(pro®table) results of numerous tours around the country, Southcott's
The Book of Wonders, Announcing the Coming of Shiloh with a Call to the
Hebrews (1814) announced the forthcoming birth of the New Messiah:
`Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honour to him; for the marriage
of the Lamb is come and his wife hath made herself ready'.39
According to Southcott, now that the spirit had brought woman to
full perfection, èqual with MAN', its seed had impregnated the
female prophet and planted itself within her virgin womb, thus
ful®lling the prophecy that a `man-child', to be named Shiloh, would
be brought forth to `rule the nations with a rod of iron': Às the
woman bore ME into the world, so she shall bear the FRUITS of the
SPIRIT, and the strongest testimony of ME'.40 To all appearances,
Joanna did indeed appear to be pregnant, a `fact' suggested by the
large number of gifts sent by her followers and `con®rmed' by
seventeen of the twenty-one physicians who examined her. Joanna
was in fact not pregnant but dying. The report of the autopsy which
followed her death in December 1814 suggested however that `no
Visible appearance of disease' had been found suf®cient to have
occasioned her death. Her most ardent followers and severe critics
were therefore left to debate the implications of her mysterious
`pregnancy', and the `spiritual' rather than temporal birth of the
Shiloh.41
Southcott's use of the `spiritual narrative' underscores the highly
pliable nature of such a discourse and its paradoxical transformation
from a site of ethereal asexuality into a distinct radical framework of
sexual discourse, female equality and anti-clerical critique. A similar
use of the central structural features of radical dissenting Protes-
tantism emerges from the lesser-known autobiographical narrative,
The Extraordinary Life and Christian Experience of Margaret Davidson, As
Dictated By Herself published in Dublin, 1782. In his preface to the
Extraordinary Life, Edward Smyth explained that the text which
followed would appear to some as the fanaticism of the `defaming
tongues of ungodly men'.42 In its adherence to the requirements of
spiritual autobiography, Davidson's narrative traces the author's
various stages of spiritual development amidst adverse conditions,
including her parents' refusal to allow her to attend Methodist
meetings and their threats to commit her to the madhouse at
Bedlam. Davidson's resolute desire to receive the Holy Spirit in spite
of her suffering and emotional paralysis was, however, eventually
rewarded: by an uninhibited salvation of her soul on the one hand ±
Òh the ecstasy of the joy I then felt!' ± and more importantly
perhaps, by her endowment of the power of articulation ± the `spirit of
poetry' ± on the other.43 As Davidson's Extraordinary Life describes a
curve of liberation from a con®ned and restricted environment, her
newly gained freedom is symbolically re¯ected by her reinscription
on to the limitless dimensions of the written page. As with South-
cott's narrative, Davidson's `spiritual' autobiography is by no means
entirely isolated from a discourse of the body. As she narrates her
successful escape from an attempted rape by an elderly neighbour,
Davidson's discourse of the spirit advances a powerful challenge to
her rapist's physical (patriarchal) superiority and fuses a narrative of
sexual abuse with the dynamics of spiritual discourse: `Being fast
imprisoned in his arms, without a possibility, by my own strength, of
getting free . . . I had no other weapon but the Sword of the Spirit'.44
For Margaret Davidson, the genre of spiritual autobiography
clearly enabled a revised articulation of self-empowerment in its
account of the preservation of the narrator's virginity from `pollu-
tion' by the powerful agency of the Spirit. Conversely, however, the
trope of female `salvation' adopted within the little-known Narrative of
the Life of Miss Sophia Leece (1820), recorded `by' the Reverend Hugh
Stowell, achieves a very different resolution. 45 In this text, the
dynamics of female self-empowerment are superseded by a frame-
work of submission and self-erasure and a privileging of male-
centred ideology. As the `spirit' inscribes its presence upon the
author's soul, individuality, autonomy and the power of articulation
are obliterated as Miss Leece is affected by à solemnity of look and
manner' which leaves her silent. The Reverend Stowell thus assumes
editorial control, (re)writing and indeed, reclaiming the mechanisms
of autobiography to advance a didactic tract of conditioned female
duty: `This awful sense of the Divine presence . . . gave serenity to
her mind and stability to her conduct. Her views of the doctrines
and duties of religion were remarkably correct'. 46 The Reverend's
obituary to the `saintly' young Miss Sophia prioritises a lesson in
established sexual hierarchy to be absorbed by èvery class of
females' who read his text, in terms of how they too may become
`heavenly in temper, patient in tribulation, holy in life, and happy in
death'. Thus Leece's Narrative raises important questions over edi-
torial control and audience expectation in relation to the role of
spiritual autobiography: for whom were such texts written and why?
Stowell's editorial reinscription of Miss Leece's spiritual narrative
presents a process of double erasure, as he requests that his female
readers similarly adopt the `lovely features' of self-denial and submis-
sion which they have been contemplating.47
While the above-mentioned texts demonstrate the expansion of
spiritual disclosure on to diverse literary paradigms of female
emancipation (and conversely, female servitude) these gender-orien-
tated texts remain detached from any direct interrelationship with
abolitionist demands. Other texts, however, such as John Newton's
An Authentic Narrative (1764) and William Cowper's The Task: A Poem in
Six Books (1785), witnessed the coalescence of abolitionist, libera-
tionist ideology with the discourse of spiritual autobiography. As
such, these texts occupy an important site in the development of
Romantic ideology in that they anticipate the latter's (discrete)
relationship with both radical dissenting Protestantism and Eng-
land's involvement in the slave trade. As these texts reveal, this
coalescence of antislavery concern and spiritual discourse was often
far from unproblematic: the syntheses which frequently emerged
disclosed an ambiguous relationship between the autobiographers'
belief in spiritual equality and established schemas of cultural
difference. However, in their detailed accounts of rites of passage
and spiritual salvation, the work of Newton and Cowper provide
important precursors to the rise of self-conscious and counter-
hegemonic demands contained within the slave narratives.
john newton's encounters; spiritual and otherwise

In 1748, a former captain of the slave trade, John Newton,
converted to evangelical Christianity and became Rector of St
Mary Woolnoth. Sixteen years later, in 1764, Newton published his
An Authentic Narrative of Some Remarkable and Interesting Particulars in the
Life of John Newton Communicated in a Series of Letters to the Reverend Mr.
Haweis (1764). In this narrative Newton traced the story of his
adventurous life prior to and following his conversion and presented
a narrative of spiritual salvation from a `long series of dangers' by
the agency and grace of Divine Providence: `He delivered me from
the pit of corruption, and cast all my aggravated sins behind his
back'.48 In the Preface to the work, the Reverend Haweis veri®ed
the authenticity of Newton's `plain' narrative, claiming that he had
asked the author to prepare a `more connected account' of his
extraordinary spiritual experiences. According to Haweis, Newton
had originally had `no intention' of publishing such a personal
account.49 Haweis' validation of the private thoughts presented in
Newton's àutobiographical narrative' (a similar emphasis often
characterised the Prefaces to the slave narratives) and his focus upon
its authenticity, simplicity and unworldly motives locates an impor-
tant intertextual relationship between the àuthenticity' of auto-
biographical narrative and divine text. Almost two decades later, in
his sermon `The Nature of Spiritual Revelation, and who are
Favoured with it' contained within his collection of Letters, Sermons,
and a Review of Ecclesiastical History (1780), Newton offered a selective
de®nition of the concept of `truth'.50 Posing the question, `what are
we to understand by revelation?', Newton identi®ed revelation as the
unveiling of designs hitherto `neither heard nor thought of ' on the
one hand, and, as the disclosure of that which was `real and certain
before, but unknown' on the other: `Revelation is not the creation or
invention of something new, but the manifestation of what was till
then unknown'. For Newton, God's spirit possessed the power to
break `down the walls which prevented and con®ned' man's
perception of truth and thereby reveal `new' and ùnthought-of
prospect[s]'.51
The design of Newton's Authentic Narrative (presented as a series of
letters) resituates the biblical paradigm of pilgrimage, intention
(`They frequently lost sight of God's gracious purposes in their
favour'), and deliverance (as exempli®ed by the Israelites' escape
from Egypt and their arrival in the promised land) within an
autobiographical narrative of spiritual salvation: `There was a future
happy time drawing near, when their journey and warfare should be
®nished; that they should soon be put in possession of the promised
land, and have rest from all their fears and troubles'.52 In the letter
of 12 January 1763 which begins the Authentic Narrative, Newton
paraphrases the promise of salvation made to the Israelites (Deut. 8:
2) which had prefaced Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress: From this World,
to that which is to Come: Delivered under the Similitude of a Dream:
They were then in the wilderness, surrounded with dif®culties [and yet]
they should soon be put in possession of the promised land, and have rest from
all their fears and troubles; and then it would give them pleasure to look back
upon what they now found so uneasy to bear.53
This formulaic emphasis upon pilgrimage as recorded in the scrip-
tures describes the spiritual journey of the soul, its departure from a
barren `wilderness' and its movement towards the salvation con-
tained within the promised land. In its response to the requisite
framework of spiritual autobiography, Newton's text delineates a
complex interrelation between autobiographical text and scriptural
text, past and present self. Whereas the linear narrative is continu-
ously interrupted by retrograde moments of spiritual degeneration,
the progressive momentum of the design is never entirely forsaken:
If we look upon the years of our past life . . . if we consider how
wonderfully one thing has been connected with another . . . incidents
which we thought hardly worth our notice . . . when we compare and
consider these things by the light afforded us in the holy Scripture, we may
collect indisputable proof . . . [that] God watches over his people from the
earliest moment of their life, over-rules and guards them through all their
wanderings.54
Yet as Newton's text suggests, an individual's spiritual pilgrimage is
fundamentally ùnknowable': the sequence of events and impressions
which presents Newton with a `knowledge of Him' is essentially a `way'
he knows `not'.55 Witness of God's grace and providence inaugurates
a penetration of knowledge, or `truth' that is otherwise impenetrable.
For Newton, the development of the `spiritual self ' or what he terms
`the Lord's dealings with me', involves the witness and articulation of
that which is complex and obscure. Therefore, the discourse of the
spirit manifested in Newton's text registers the shortcomings of
language within the parameters of autobiographical and historical
narrative: that is, `the great dif®culty of writing properly where the
Self is concerned'.56 It is a `dif®culty' which paradoxically validates
and undermines the status of autobiographical narrative and its
reliance upon structural design. As with other spiritual autobiogra-
phies, it is a dif®culty partially resolved by the author's relocation of
the discourse of the self to the realms of dreamscape and prophecy:
Those who acknowledge scripture, will allow that there have been monitory
and supernatural dreams, evident communications from heaven, either
directing or foretelling future events.57
Recalling his spiritual heritage as the only son of dissenting parents,

Newton, pre-empting Wordsworth's concept of `spots of time', recol-
lects the importance of his memories of `valuable pieces, chapters and
portions of scripture, catechisms, hymns and poems' which return
àgain and again' to restore and sustain his spiritual self.58 Interest-
ingly, whilst these fragments of text maintain an important sense of
self, Newton's spiritual degeneration is also identi®ed as having
emerged from a textual source: according to Newton, it was the
second volume of Lord Shaftesbury's Characteristics which `seduced'
and deluded him with pseudo-beliefs: Ì loved sin, and was unwilling
to forsake it . . . my simple heart was beguiled'.59 The autobiographi-
cal account of the author's maritime adventures provide a second site
of transgression, yet his participation in the slave trade is not
speci®cally identi®ed as a source of spiritual decline. As with the slave
narratives, the sea determines a site of isolation and severance from
established beliefs. Newton's `violent and commanding passion' for
the daughter of his late mother's friend (an infatuation disclosed
neither to the female herself, nor to his friends) is discerned as the
cause of his abandonment of all sense of religion and his `remon-
strances of conscience and prudence', a displacement which decen-
tres the focus on his activities as a slave-trader.60
According to the Authentic Narrative, Newton's `large strides towards
a total apostacy from God' are checked by the forceful impressions
of a prophetic dream in which he is given charge of a ring which he
is told would bring him happiness. Doubting its powers, Newton
rejects this gift and throws it back into the water: `No sooner [had it]
touched [the water], than I saw, the same instant, a terrible ®re burst
out from a range of the mountains'.61 Newton interprets this as a
visual narrative of his spiritual malaise and rejection of God's mercy
(Ì perceived . . . my folly') and so, `deserving no pity', repents.62
Newton claims that his confession was rewarded by a vision of the
restored ring, a vision which he believes indicated his own possible
spiritual liberation and salvation: `The prey taken from the hand of
the mighty, and the lawful captive delivered.' In the period which
follows, Newton encounters circumstances `very nearly resembling'
those suggested by his extraordinary dream, yet fails to recognise
them as manifestations of his earlier vision. Hence standing `helpless
and hopeless upon the brink of an awful eternity', the author remains
unconscious of the `grand enemy' and on his return to Kent in
December 1743, obtains the post of midshipman upon the Harwich
man-of-war bound for the East Indies.63 On board this vessel
Newton, `like an unwary sailor who quits his port just before a rising
storm', makes the acquaintance of other sailors whose corrupt
in¯uence he claims accelerated the ruin of his principles and led to
his total abandonment of the hopes and comforts of the gospel.
When the Harwich is forced to sail back to Plymouth, having
encountered a severe storm off the coast of Cornwall, Newton
deserts ship and attempts to secure a position with the merchants of
the slave-trade, the Royal African Company. He is, however, recap-
tured and forced to return to the ship where he is publicly stripped
and whipped, a form of punishment frequently experienced by
slaves: Ì was now in my turn brought down to a level with the
lowest, and exposed to the insults of all'.64 Yet even at this stage of
the Authentic Narrative, Newton's `transgression' is not identi®ed as his
collusion with proslavery ideology, but rather his moral (eroticised)
lapses, his unacceptable desertion and his degradation in the hands
of other sailors.
While the details of the ®ve-year voyage which follow remain
opaque (a silence which possibly indicates his own involvement in
the slave trade), Newton's Narrative suggests that every hour of the
sea voyage exposed him to some new degradation and wretchedness:
`Whether I looked inward or outward, I could perceive nothing but
darkness and misery'.65 It is however his severance from his beloved,
`the object of [his] affections' which precipitates `the most excru-
ciating passions' of bitter rage and black despair and culminates in
his attempt to commit suicide by throwing himself overboard.
According to African slave belief systems, for those slaves who threw
themselves overboard during the transatlantic crossings, such an act
manifested an effort to return to the homeland of their deceased
ancestors. Newton's attempted suicide is however miraculously
prevented by the `secret hand of God'.66 During his subsequent
voyage to Madeira and his transference to the Guinea ship bound
for Sierra Leone and the Windward Coast of Africa, Newton's
depression brings him close to suicide once more. In terms of the
spiritual framework, this (non)event (and not his withdrawal from
slave ideology) marks the climactical crux of the narrative, a moment
which Newton identi®es as an unquestionable display of the Lord's
`providence and care'.67 Yet despite these various miraculous inter-
ventions, Newton's spiritual dissolution continues and his ùtterly
abandoned' behaviour corrupts the other shipmates on board the
Guinea: Ì not only sinned with a high hand myself, but made it my
study to tempt and seduce others upon every occasion'.68 When the
Captain of the Guinea dies, Newton decides to remain in Africa in
order to amuse himself `with many golden dreams' of improving his
fortune. He enters the service of a few white settlers `whose business
it was to purchase slaves . . . and sell them to the ships at an
advanced price', an event which marks the beginning of his involve-
ment in the slave trade.69
As he travels along the slave-trading coast, from the most western
point of Africa, Cape Verde, to Cape Mount via Gambia, Sierra
Leone and the small `Bananoes and Plantanes Islands', Newton's
autobiographical Narrative presents the author as a spiritually-malig-
nant and repugnant `self ', an outcast `lying in blood', shunned by
settlers and Negroes alike. On one of the Platanes islands, Newton
becomes seriously ill and is left under the care of his master's black
mistress. It is at this stage that his `spiritual' narrative begins to read
like a slave narrative in which the power relations are set in reverse:
insulted and humiliated, Newton is kept like a slave to this cruel
black mistress:
When I was slowly recovering, this woman would sometimes pay me a visit,
not to pity or relieve, but to insult me. She would call me worthless and
indolent, and compel me to walk, which, when I could hardly do, she
would set her attendants to mimic my motion.70
Whereas her attendants ridicule and abuse him, the enchained

slaves on the settlement bring him food to keep him alive. Yet their
actions do little to persuade Newton to renounce his trade, nor to
consider the spiritual nor indeed, intellectual equality of the Afri-
cans. Rather, as the entry of 26 May 1751 in his subsequent Journal of
a Slave Trader, 1750±1754 reveals, the Africans' attempted insurrection
on board Newton's own slave-trading vessel is condemned as an
outlandish and unjusti®able attack.71 Similarly, his journal entry of
26 January 1753 expresses his complete dismissal of African culture
and his unwillingness to consider the Africans' potential ability to
grasp western concepts of freedom or Christianity:
The three greatest blessings of which human nature is capable are
undoubtedly religion, liberty, and love. In each of these how highly has God
distinguished me! But here in Africa are whole nations around me, whose
languages are entirely different from each other, yet I believe they all agree
in this, that they have no words among them expressive of these engaging ideas . . .
These poor creatures are not only strangers to the advantages which I enjoy,
but are plunged in all the contrary evils . . . [that] ignorance, can produce in the mind.72
The return of Newton's captain and their joint departure from the
Plantanes brings him temporary relief until another trader persuades
the captain that Newton is a thief. On this occasion, Newton is
imprisoned upon the deck of the ship, exposed for `perhaps near 40
hours together in incessant rains' and forced to work on the
plantations like a slave. His narrative of spiritual deterioration and
his subsequent deliverance `from the pit of corruption' by the
`blessing of the Lord's grace' is however resolutely distinguished
from the absolute degeneration experienced by some settlers.73 Whilst
he admits that he has èrred', Newton determinedly distances
himself from those colonisers who have succumbed to a Kurtz-type
of debasement.74 He condemns those colonials who have yielded to
what he terms a `spirit of infatuation', that is, those who have
abandoned their sense of Christian duty and moral decorum and
participated instead in an unrestrained indulgence in African reli-
gious ceremonies, emotional and sexual excess:
There is a signi®cant phrase frequently used in those parts, That such a
white man is grown black. It does not intend an alteration of complexion,
but disposition. I have known several who, settling in Africa after the age of
30 or 40, have, at that time of life, been gradually assimilated to the
tempers, customs, and ceremonies of the natives, so far as to prefer that
country to England.75
Such settlers, Newton argues, have sold their souls by embracing
African belief systems and hence become dupes to àll the pretended
charms, necromancies, amulets, and divinations of the blinded Negroes'.
According to him it is a `fate' which would have also been his, had
he continued to live in `closer engagement' with the natives. The
Lord's will, however, or so he claims, has saved him from becoming
à wretch amongst them', divine providence having prevented an
irreversible `yield to the whole'; a deplorable subjection to cultural
alterity.
Whilst Newton's text maintains a narrative of cultural segregation,
the little-known An Authentic Narrative of Four Years' Residence at
Tongataboo, one of the Friendly Islands, in the South Sea (1810) by George
Vason (edited by the Revd Piggott), presents a lucid account of the
so-called `pernicious' in¯uence of heathen customs upon the mis-
sionaries based at Tongataboo. In so doing, the author's disclosure
of his submission to unrestrained indulgence, luxury and pleasure
initiates a `torrent of iniquity' and spiritual neglect:
I began to indulge in foolish imaginations, and to neglect the needful
exercises of private prayer . . . I began to dislike the means of grace, I never
visited the brethren, found delight in the company, manners and
amusements of the natives; and soon took too large a part in them . . . My
evil inclinations, now unchecked by law, and by the reverential sense of the
Divine Being, gradually gained the dominion . . . After a time, I was induced to
yield to their allurements, to imitate their manners, and to join them in their sins.76
Although Vason claims that the primary motive behind his àuto-
biographical' Authentic Narrative is to offer some ùseful hints' to future
missionary organisations by advising that `married ' rather than single
men be sent to less `tremendously alluring scenes', his text presents
an early type of titillating nineteenth-century soft pornography: that
is, his redeployment of the principal features of Methodism advances
an articulation of sexual and bicultural exposure.77 For this reason,
the occasion of the ànonymous author's interracial marriage to a
young relative of the chief of the Tongataboo Island is presented as a
moment which opens `the door to every indulgence' and throws
`down every barrier of restraint':
I lament to say, that I now entered, with the utmost eagerness, into every
pleasure and entertainment of the natives; and endeavoured to forget that I
was once called a christian, and had left a christian land to evangelise the
heathen. Into such excesses is man ready to run when once he has violated
his conscience, and given way to temptation.78
Consequently, Vason's `deliverance' is identi®ed as an exodus from
sexual paradise and racial integration (`may penitence ever bow my
soul in humility') and a reorientation along the path that leads
towards `the narrow way'; that of Eurocentric ideology and cultural
(especially sexual) apartheid: `Had it not been for the arrival of this
ship, and my sudden escape to it, it is most probable I should at this
moment have been lifting up mine eyes in a dark world of despair'.79
The subtextual message of Newton's spiritual autobiography is
similarly hinged upon a discourse of cross-cultural contact, an
experience which threatens to irreversibly divide him, culturally and
morally, from his native land. In accordance with this, his confes-
sional text simultaneously reveals and conceals the depths of degra-
dation to which he is subjected. Whilst the `tempers, customs, and
ceremonies of the native' are presented as pernicious agents of
degeneration, Newton's text continues to focus on interracial rela-
tions, obliquely dealt with in the earlier account of his master's black
mistress. Indeed, Newton's Authentic Narrative unequivocally equates
spiritual degeneration with contact with cultural alterity: ultimate
degradation is presented as synonymous with interracial sexual
contact. Newton's deliverance from the negroes is, however, close at
hand: with the help of a fellow traveller, he is `freed from a captivity
of about ®fteen months'.80 Even so, the various disasters which befall
the ship during the author's continued involvement in the trade,
persuade the Captain that Newton is a `cursed Jonah' (not dissimilar
to Coleridge's poem, The Ancient Mariner) and that all the troubles
met with en route are owing to his having `taken me [Newton] into
the vessel'.81 Meanwhile, although the author experiences several
timely `deliverances' from disaster, he remains ignorant of their
providential meaning ± that is, until the `Lord's time was come', and
the ship is wrecked by a violent storm. In the days leading up to this
catastrophe, Newton's encounter with the ideas articulated within
Stanhope's Thomas aÁ Kempis have prepared him for spiritual salva-
tion.82 Moreover, during the storm itself, it is the literal abandon-
ment of the signi®ers of colonial trade, the produce of the African
continent such as beeswax, ivory and dyers-wood, together with
Newton's own plea for mercy, `spoken with little re¯ection', which
saves most of the crew from the effects of the storm. This miraculous
deliverance instigates a structured reordering of hitherto neglected
warnings and culminates in Newton's spiritual salvation and the
ship's safe arrival, blown by providential winds, in Ireland four
weeks later ± Ì began to know that there is a God that hears and
answers prayers'.83
In keeping with this image of pilgrimage and rites of passage,
letter X of the Authentic Narrative outlines the author's own metapho-
rical `pilgrimage' as a voyage undertaken by numerous vessels, àt
different times, and from different places', yet all `bound to the same
port' and guided by the same spirit (or `breath') of God:
Some we see set out with a prosperous gale, and when they almost think
their passage secured, they are checked by adverse blasts . . . Others meet
the greatest dif®culties at ®rst . . . Some are hard beset with cruisers and
enemies, and obliged to ®ght their way through . . . The word of God is
their compass, Jesus is both their polar star and their sun of righteousness;
their hearts and faces are all set Sion-ward. Thus far they are as one body,
animated by one spirit; yet their experience, formed upon these common
principles, is far from uniform.84
Interestingly, this narrative of voyaging and pilgrimage functions as
a scriptural exegesis to Newton's autobiographical text and antici-
pates the discourse of missionary expansionist ideology advanced
during the late eighteenth century. Spiritual pilgrimage and slave-
trading are not seen as diametrically opposed; the letter concludes
with an account of his renewed visits to Sierra Leone and the
Plantanes and his continued determination to purchase slaves.85 In
the following letter (XI), Newton records his decision to `keep a sort
of diary' during his subsequent voyages to Guinea. In this he
(unashamedly) presents his various escapes from slave mutinies and
insurrections as `deliverances' ®rmly located within the parameters
of spiritual discourse.86 Similarly, his criticism of the trade, ex-
pounded in the penultimate letter XIII of 1 February 1763, focuses,
somewhat lamely, upon the icons of enslavement ± the chains, bolts
and shackles ± rather than upon slave ideology or the condition of
the slaves themselves. As these textual absences (and their deafening
silence) remain eclipsed by the author's own narrative of spiritual
evolution, his desire for a more `humane calling' ultimately suggests
his yearning to return to his Christian homeland and his desire for
ordination, rather than a concern for the wretched African slaves, or
even the possibility of misinterpreting the workings of divine Provi-
dence:
During the time I was engaged in the slave trade, I never had the least
scruple as to its lawfulness; I was upon the whole satis®ed with it, as the
appointment Providence had marked out for me; yet it was, in many
respects, far from eligible . . . I was sometimes shocked with an employ-
ment that was perpetually conversant with chains, bolts, and shackles. In
this view I had often petitioned in my prayers, that the Lord (in his own
time) would be pleased to ®x me in a more humane calling, and (if it might
be) place me where I might have more frequent converse with his people
and his ordinances, and be freed from those long separations from home,
which very often were hard to bear. 87
So far as his Authentic Narrative is concerned, this completes the
author's critique of the trade. Ultimately, it is an apoplectic ®t,
rather than a moment of either remorse or spiritual illumination
which ®nally severs Newton's links with slavery and instigates his
ordination within the established church. The emergent narrative of
self-consciousness described by Newton's text remains severed from
a discourse proclaiming the needs of others.
Twenty-four years after the publication of his Authentic Narrative
(1764), Newton published his Thoughts upon the African Slave Trade
(1788), a work which relocated the former text's schema of salvation
within an antislavery context: Ì was in effect, though without the
name, a Captive and a Slave myself; and was depressed to the lowest
degree of human wretchedness'.88 In this revised testimony of `public
confession', Newton recalled what he now considered his shameful
participation in a `business at which my heart now shudders', the
`wretched' activity of purchasing and collecting slaves.89 His `testi-
mony' of the workings of the holy spirit thus reformulated as a
public disclosure his experiences as a trader over a period of nine
years, experiences which, he asserted, con®rmed his role as a
competent witness of the consequences of the trade ± Ì . . . offer
nothing in writing, as from my knowledge, which I could not
carefully, if requisite, con®rm upon oath'.90 Nevertheless, even in
this later text, criticism of the trade is strategically absorbed within a
framework of individual spiritual development:
I think I should have quitted it [the slave trade] sooner, had I considered it,
as I now do, to be unlawful and wrong. But I never had a scruple upon this
head, at the time; nor was such a thought once suggested to me, by any
friend. What I did, I did ignorantly; considering it as the line of life which
Divine Providence had allotted me.91
In this subsequent version of Newton's Narrative the disclosure of
`truth', described in the ìllumination' episodes of earlier spiritual
autobiographies, is reinscribed as the author's efforts `to throw what
light' he can upon the slave trade, `now that it is likely to become a
point of parliamentary investigation'. In so doing, Newton's text
anticipates the strategic transformation of spiritual discourse as a
signi®cant mode of subversion, most especially via its penetration of
the political sphere:
Though unwilling to give offence to a single person: in such a cause, I
ought not to be afraid of offending many, by declaring the truth. If, indeed,
there can be many, whom even interest can prevail upon to contradict the
common sense of mankind, by pleading for a commerce so iniquitous, so
cruel, so oppressive, so destructive, as the African Slave Trade! 92
In his Thoughts Upon the Slave Trade, therefore, the autobiographical
disclosure of divine `truth', characteristic of the spiritual narratives,
is translated into an exposure of another kind, that is, to a socio-
political critique of Britain's ìniquitous' involvement in the trade,
`this stain on our national character'.93 Newton's text thus illustrates
the developing correspondence between evangelicism, British aboli-
tionism and parliamentary debate, a relationship which underlines
the works of one of his `disciples', the autobiographer and poet,
William Cowper.
william cowper's ambiguous deliverance

As an important precursor to the Romantic poets, William Cowper,
son of the Rector of Great Berkhampstead in Hertfordshire, was a
key voice in the development of the discourse of the spirit which
emerged under the in¯uence of radical dissenting Protestantism. In
addition, Cowper's concern over the issue of slavery marks the
inauguration of a vital tripartite relationship between spiritual
discourse, Romantic ideology and the dynamics of abolitionism.
Cowper not only anticipates the Romantics' evolution of a hetero-
geneous form of spiritual discourse but extends the abolitionist
demands made (albeit tenuously) by Cowper's mentor, John
Newton, and functions as a precursor to the appropriation of
spiritual autobiography by English ex-slaves. In line with the
emergence of missionary ideology discussed above, his work reveals
a coalescence of abolitionist and colonial discourse. Yet as it
translates the structural framework of the evangelical motif into a
narrative of melancholic excess (or `psychosis') Cowper's work
problematises the traditional `salvation' crux of the conversion
genre.
Possibly inspired by Newton's conversion text, An Authentic Narra-
tive, William Cowper's Memoirs or Àdelphi' as he originally conceived
his autobiographical narrative, traces the history of the author's
`spiritual' development from the time of his birth in November 1731
until his conversion to Evangelicalism in July 1764. As with Newton's
text, Cowper's Memoirs are interspersed throughout by poignant
accounts of the author's chronic bouts of depression and melancholy.
From the time that he was called to the Bar in 1754 (aged 23),
Cowper led the typical life of a Temple barrister until his nomination
in 1763 for the post of Clerk of the Journals to the House of Lords.
Whilst the traumatic effects of his mother's premature death, his
bullied childhood at Market Street Boarding School and his
thwarted love affair with his cousin, Theodora, had already com-
bined to aggravate a melancholic disposition within the poet, the
fear of undergoing a public examination in order to con®rm his
right of appointment to the Clerkship triggered a severe state of
mental instability.94 According to John Morris and Charles
Ryskamp, Cowper's psychological state was compounded by his
belief in an ìmagined' defect (hermaphroditic) in his sexual organs
which made the prospect of examination of any kind a constant
fear.95 After three attempted suicides and a series of depressive
bouts, Cowper was taken to Dr. Cotton's mental asylum in St Albans
where he remained from 1763 to 1765.96
On his recovery, Cowper took lodgings in Huntingdon in order to
be near his younger brother, John, and soon became friends with,
and subsequently a lodger, with the Unwin household. Mrs Unwin,
the `Mary' of Cowper's poems, effected a salutary in¯uence upon the
author's mind, and in her society Cowper began to lose the convic-
tion that he was forsaken by God. With the death of her husband in
1767, Mrs Unwin and Cowper moved to Olney in Buckinghamshire.
Here he formed an acquaintance with the author of the Authentic
Narrative, John Newton, who had by this time established a reputa-
tion as one of the most renowned clergymen of the Evangelical
movement. During the ®rst years of his residency at Olney, however,
Cowper's ®ts of depression and insanity returned, possibly triggered
by Newton's gloomy teachings of self-accusation and the death of
Cowper's younger brother, John, in 1770.97
In 1771 Newton suggested that Cowper assist him with the
composition of a volume of hymns. Eight years later, in 1779, the
Olney Hymns, containing 348 hymns in all, were published. In the
sixty-eight hymns composed by Cowper, `deliverance' for adherents
of God's ways is celebrated as a process of spiritual salvation /
liberation experienced within the `calm retreats' of domestic bliss,
far removed from the chaotic world of strife. This model coincided
with the deliverance narratives published by slaves and anticipated
the autobiographical `conversation' genre favoured by Romantic
poets, such as Coleridge and Wordsworth.98 In hymnal poems such
as `Retirement' and `Light Shining Out of Darkness' Cowper
attempted to articulate the spiritual experience of ecstatic commu-
nion with God ± an experience profoundly felt yet not necessarily
understood:
There if thy Spirit touch the soul,
And grace her mean abode;
Oh with what peace, and joy, and love
She communes with her GOD!
There like the nightingale she pours
Her solitary lays.99
With this objective in mind, the poems reveal the poet's unstinting
faith in the Lord's promise to disclose meaning (`GOD moves in a
mysterious way, / His wonders to perform . . . / The bud may have
a bitter taste, / But sweet will be the ¯ow'r') and thereby reveal the
design behind suffering and chaos: `GOD is his own interpreter, /
And he will make it plain'.100 Such a schema similarly in¯uenced the
original manuscript of Cowper's Memoirs which was read by Martin
Madan in 1767.101 In addition to Madan, the itinerant preacher who
befriended distinguished Methodists (including the Wesleys, George
White®eld and Lady Huntingdon) Cowper's manuscript was also
read by Lady Hesketh (Harriet Cowper), Mrs Madan and John
Newton in 1768 and all versions (dating from 1803 onwards) and
printed copies of the Memoirs were derived from this.102 In the
Memoirs of the Life and Writings of William Cowper which appeared in
London in 1814, `revised, corrected and recommended' by the Revd
S. Greatheed, the editor `willingly' pre®xed his attestation of the
text's authenticity. Greatheed claimed that his edition would `serve
to correct' those misrepresentations which had presented Cowper's
`deplorable malady' as symptomatic of his dissenting `religious
sentiments'. According to Greatheed, Cowper's conversion had
precipitated his `recovery' from his ®rst severe attack of insanity.
Likewise Greatheed's ùnbiased testimony' ± Ì avow myself to be no
partisan for the theological system which Mr Cowper imbibed' ±
suggested that Cowper's instability was in fact a consequence of his
adherence to a totally different sentiment, ùtterly incompatible with
his religious creed'.103
Subsequent revisions of Cowper's text, such as the Memoirs of the
Remarkable and Interesting Parts of the Life of William Cowper (1816) and
the Memoir of the Early Life of William Cowper (1816) similarly claimed
complete textual authenticity.104 While such texts sought to prioritise
the poet's spiritual development, they also attempted to counter
suggestions which had connected Cowper's (excessive) religious
fervour with his `mental malady'. The ®rst of these texts therefore,
identi®ed `personal religion' as the only effective cure for a `wounded
conscience' and claimed that this communion with the deity would
enable the soul to àpproach the judgment seat of Christ with
serenity and con®dence'.105 Likewise, the Preface to the latter text
ascribed the origin of Cowper's deranged faculties to àn excessive
sensibility, to which he was by nature subject' rather than to his
adherence to any speci®c kind of religious zeal:
Religion was so far from causing that disturbance in the ®rst instance,
either directly or indirectly, that, even in his earliest depressions, it was the
only source from which any feelings of a counteractive or consolatory
nature were derived.106
Accordingly, these various renditions of Cowper's narrative incorpo-
rated great efforts to emphasise the spiritual `solace' experienced by
the author, following his admittance into the mental institution at St
Albans:
At length his despair was effectually removed by reading the sacred
scriptures, that `God hath set forth Jesus Christ to be a propitiation,
through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of
sins that are past, through the forbearance of God.' (Rom. 3:25) While
meditating on this passage, he obtained a view of the gospel, which was
attended with unspeakable joy.107
At the outset of the Memoir of the Early Life, Cowper's visitations
were identi®ed as a `gift in whom [he] trusted', a power which ®lled
him with à degree of trust and con®dence in God, that would have
been no disgrace to a much more experienced Christian'.108 For
Cowper, however, these spiritualised con®rmations of individual
election proved to be `the ®rst and last instance' of such a kind
`between infancy and manhood'.109 These memoirs described his
puberty and late adolescence as miserable periods of emotional
volatility which culminated in his blasphemous rejection of the deity,
his `rancorous reproach', his descent into madness (`my ears rang
with the sound of torments') and as with Newton's text, frequent
contemplations of suicide:
Perhaps, thought I, there is no God; or if there be, the scriptures may be
false; if so, then God has no where forbidden suicide. I considered life as
my property, and therefore at my disposal. Men of great name, I observed,
had destroyed themselves; and the world still retained the profoundest
respect for their memories.110
After several failed suicide attempts (including an attempt to
drown himself in the Thames), Cowper experienced a spiritual
awakening during which the atrocity of his actions were revealed to
him in colours ìnconceivably strong', hence inaugurating a trans-
formation of Newton's captivity theme in terms of emancipatory
discourse:
The happy period which was to shake off my fetters, and afford me a clear
opening to the free mercy of God in Christ Jesus, was now arrived. . . and
the full beams of the Sun of Righteousness shone upon me. . . In a moment I
believed, and received the gospel.111
For most spiritual autobiographers and their editors in the late
eighteenth century, the discourse of the spirit provided an acceptable
medium of self-con®rmation (either real or imagined) and self-
empowerment. Yet whilst most editors were eager to present Cow-
per's autobiography as a confessional narrative of deliverance, as it
was recorded in the Memoirs, conversion to Evangelicalism failed to
`cure' Cowper of his depressive tendencies. For this reason the
translation of the framework of spiritual regeneration to a narrative
detailing Cowper's medical history proved to be problematic in its
`failure' to contain the complex mechanisms of psychosis. As periods
of depression continued to plague the author during the composition
of the Olney Hymns (1779), The Task (1785) and The Cast-Away (1799),
Cowper's narratives may be seen to highlight some of the major
limitations of prescribed spiritual discourse: that is, the ever-increas-
ing gap between spiritual, ®ctional and autobiographical modes of
articulation. This disjuncture between narratives of spiritual regen-
eration and psychosis / depression is partially resolved by the
insistence, within Cowper's longest poetical work, The Task, that the
con®guration of identity is a continuous process. Abandoning the
crescendo-like momentum and resolute climax of other conversion
narratives, The Task redetermines spiritual revivi®cation, or `new
birth', as a never-ending process of illumination and thereby high-
lights the complex processes of the autobiographical genre. In
addition, the poet's text extends the motif of conscious àwakening'
on to a trope of nationalistic dialogue concerning the abolition of the
slave trade. To a certain extent therefore, Cowper's work coalesces
with the narratives of self-consciousness (cultural and individual)
contained within the autobiographical texts by ex-slaves.
poems of liberty and deluge

In his essay of 1979, Joseph Musser declared that those critics who
had endeavoured to make claims for the structural unity of The Task
had had to resort to `logical and verbal contortion'. Likewise, he
argued that the poem's `lack of formal unity' re¯ected the frag-
mented insanity of the poet himself, a condition at odds with the
cohesive unity expected of a `sane' integrated self. For Musser
therefore, the poem's lack of structure revealed the poet's psycho-
logical inability to discover, within his own personality, the integra-
tion of the self required for sanity.112 In an effort to counter Musser's
claims, I would suggest that Cowper's poem sensitively and success-
fully traces the complex process of autobiographical narration. In its
refusal to succumb to `closure' in terms of narrative structure, the
poem identi®es the on-going dynamics of identity-formation and
epiphanic spiritual illumination and thus anticipates the condition of
`diaspora' revealed in the slave narratives. Moreover, in its concern
with abolitionist demands, The Task con®rms Cowper's position as
an important precursor to the Romantic poets' autobiographical
enterprise and as a key in¯uence in the development of spiritual
discourse.
In an effort to counter his religious melancholia, Cowper pub-
lished a volume of poetry in 1782 which included poems such as `The
Progress of Error', `Conversation', `The Negro's Complaint', `Retire-
ment' and `Verses written by the Scottish sailor Alexander
Selkirk'.113 Although this volume was not a huge success, the
domestic, conversational style of the poems presented a form of
intimate autobiography and abolitionist de®ance that was to signi®-
cantly in¯uence the framework of The Task. In the same year,
Cowper's poem Charity (1782) condemned the slave trade, `the most
degrading of all ills', as an aberration of the social bond which
united the human race (`God, working ever on a social plan, / By
various ties attaches man to man') and foregrounded the poet's belief
in the spiritual equality of the races: À Briton knows . . . / That souls
have no discriminating hue, / Alike important in their Maker's
view'.114 Likewise, in his poem `The Negro's Complaint' (1788),
Cowper hinted at the divine retribution which he believed would
ensue if England continued its support of the slave trade:
Hark! he answers ± Wild tornadoes,
Strewing yonder sea with wrecks;
Wasting towns, plantations, meadows,
Are the voice with which he speaks.
He, foreseeing what vexations
Afric's sons should undergo,
Fix'd their tyrants' habitations
Where his whirlwinds answer ± No.115
The popularity and accessibility of Cowper's `merchantable' critique
of the national agenda was established and con®rmed when thou-
sands of copies of this poem were distributed throughout England by
the Abolitionist Committee. Indeed, his poems `The Morning
Dream' (1788) and `Sweet Meat for Sour Sauce' (1788) anticipated
(or rather prophesied) Britain's withdrawal from the slave trade:
I saw him [the Demon of Slavery] both sicken and die . . .
Heard shouts that ascended the sky . . .
Awaking, how could I but muse
At what such a dream should betide?
But soon my ear caught the glad news
Which serv'd my weak thought for a guide ±
That Britannia, renown'd o'er the waves
For the hatred she ever has shown
To the black-sceptred rulers of slaves,
Resolves to have none of her own.116
In its fusion of spiritual narrative and abolitionist critique, Cow-
per's major poem, The Task endeavours to demonstrate the bene®cial
effects of nature upon a `lost soul' whose wanderings, like those of
the River Ouse, are re¯ected in the poem's continuum of digressions.
Cowper's poetical project presents a paradigm of spiritual pilgrimage
and redemption in which domestic happiness is identi®ed as a
paradisiacal state wherein man might best discover the `lineaments
divine'.117 Predating the embryonic version of Wordsworth's auto-
biographical poem The Prelude by over a decade, Cowper's search for
a contemporary Eden commences with a narrative of liberation in
which communion with God is reinforced rather than severed,
suggesting a fusion of the dynamics of the self with those of the
divine self. In Book III of The Task, entitled `The Garden', the
moment of spiritual salvation is presented as a discrete disclosure of
the complex relationship between the poet's own suffering and that
experienced by the humanised deity: `There was I found by one who
had himself / Been hurt by th'archers . . . / With gentle force
soliciting the darts / He drew them forth, and heal'd and bade me
live'.118 Cowper's synchronisation of the divine within the poetical
self inaugurates a validation of the poet's own visionary powers,
which enables him to distinguish between divine visitations and the
false delusions of wanderers gone astray (Èach in his own delusions;
they are lost / In chase of fancied happiness, still woo'd / And never
won'). Such claims for visionary powers were later reciprocated by
Wordsworth's claims for the in®nite powers of the human mind: Òf
®rst, and last, and midst, and without end'.119 According to Cowper,
for those who searched for truth using the powers of rational
intellect, disclosure would remain a continual absence. For those
who did not seek it, however, divine illumination would be granted
suddenly, powerfully and unmistakably: `But if his word once teach
us, shoot a ray / Through all the heart's dark chambers, and reveal /
Truths undiscern'd but by that holy light, / Then all is plain'.120
Cowper's Task therefore prioritises the acquisition of spiritual
knowledge over that of empirical science. Since God, he declares,
never meant that man should scale the heavens `by strides of human
wisdom', scienti®c discoveries (`some drill and bore / the solid
earth'), or geographical conquests ( [some] `travel nature up / to the
sharp peak of her sublimest height'), philosophical dictums and
hypotheses merely function as buckets dropped into empty wells,
`growing old in drawing nothing up!'121 Furthermore the poet
suggests that in their use of elaborate and delusive rhetoric, such
investigations insidiously destroy the natural international brotherhood
of man: `What edge of subtlety canst thou suppose / Keen enough,
wise and skilful as thou art, / To cut the link of brotherhood, by
which / One common Maker bound me to the kind?'122
Prompted by recent `portentous, unexampled, unexplained' me-
teorological activity (such as the terrible earthquakes in Sicily in
February 1782), the poet argues that in its discrimination against one
half of mankind, the slave trade will precipitate the approaching
hour of millenarian apocalypse:
And crazy earth has had her shaking ®ts . . .
What solid was, by transformation strange
Grows ¯uid, and the ®xt and rooted earth
Tormented into billows heaves and swells,
Or with vortiginous and hideous whirl
Sucks down its prey insatiable.123
Having endeavoured to relocate the abolitionist concern within the

parameters of spiritual illumination, Cowper's text prophesies a
national severance from any association with the trade, two years
prior to the establishment of the Society for Abolition: `We have no
slaves at home . . . / Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs
/ Receive our air, that moment they are free, / They touch our
country and their shackles fall'.124 Yet the poet's abolitionist ideology
vies unresolvedly with his propagation of colonial ideology and
despite his critique of the trade, the concept of empire still looms
large. He therefore criticises the `dissipation and effeminacy' which
he believes has reduced the arch of the British Empire to a
`mutilated structure, soon to fall' and advances a mythic valorisation
of Britain's redemptive role amongst the pagan nations. 125 Omai,
the South Sea islander employed by Captain Cook during his
travels, is hence depicted as a patriotic native who weeps honest
tears for his benevolent coloniser, à patriot's for his country'.126
Transformation of the island into a civilised paradise, has, to all
intents and purposes been merely partial; moreover, it is a trans-
formation which has taken place without the islanders' participation:
`Thou art sad / At thought of her [his island's] forlorn and abject
state, / From which no power of thine can raise her up'.127 Cowper's
poem thus establishes the concept of the `task' on individual and
national terms and in so doing, prescribes both the salvation of the
individual soul and the inauguration of missionary ideology beyond
the western hemisphere.
In the ®rst four books of The Task, Cowper employs the paradigm
of `journeying', in terms of his walk in the garden and his `mental'
wanderings from the sofa, as a suitable metaphor for spiritual
development.128 Likewise, in the remaining books of The Task, this
image is transferred to the ¯uid meanderings of a stream, which
projects the in¯uence of the spirit upon the soul as an unstoppable
and tireless process, akin to the demands of liberty ± `scornful of a
check it leaps . . . / No frost can bind it there'.129 Having
envisaged Britain's redemptive role in the `liberation' of the slaves
(or rather its detachment from the slave trade) Cowper's text posits
spiritual liberty as a daring prototype for emancipation: `be en-
slaved no more':
But there is yet a liberty unsung . . .
Tis liberty of heart, derived from heav'n,
Bought with HIS blood who gave it to mankind,
And seal'd with the same token.130
Concurrent with this discourse of spiritual emancipation, Cowper's
text describes a paradigm of dissolution ± the absorption and negation
of the individual self within the divine. As with the complex synthesis
of the Empress of Russia's ice-palace, which `was a stream' but soon
must `slide into a stream again', Cowper's poem articulates a submer-
sion of the individual by the cleansing waters of divine deluge. In the
ultimate moment of spiritual salvation, therefore, the subject identity
is engulfed by that of another, in order that the subject may be
reformed anew. In the case of the slaves, however, such a process
involved an involuntary subjection to a new nation-state (Britain's
`Self ') and to its Christian epistemological and colonial discourse:
Acquaint thyself with God if thou would'st taste
His works. Admitted once to his embrace,
Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before;
Thine eye shall be instructed, and thine heart
Made pure, shall relish with divine delight
'Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought.131
The poet's metaphor of the `task' hence functions as a search for
revelation on both linguistic and spiritual terms ± an attempted
disclosure of `the lamp of truth', `Thy lamp, mysterious Word!' His
text identi®es the complex relationship between the dynamics of
discourse (utterance and ellipse) and the con®gurations of identity, a
principle concern of the slave narratives. The Task thereby reveals
identity as a continued series of revelations, illuminations and
erasures of the self. It is a process which reciprocates the fragmented
disclosures of divine truth, the ùnseen' Word, and the problematics
of writing the self into text. Autobiographical narrative, and this is
especially true of the slave narratives, is seen to proceed via a
complex sequence of revelations, ellipses and erasures ± epistemolo-
gical, socioeconomic and historical ± of the self:
In that blest moment, nature throwing wide
Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile
The author of her beauties, who retired
Behind his own creation, works unseen
By the impure, and hears his pow'r denied.
Thou art the source and centre of all minds,
Their only point of rest, eternal word! 132
Whilst the promise of spiritual illumination and disclosure in Cow-

per's narrative suggests the possibility of individual consummation
and emancipation ± `Then we are free. Then liberty like day /
Breaks on the soul' ± subjectivity is determined as necessarily
un®nished, incomplete, for ever in transit. 133 As the deity performs
that silent `task', which is also `himself ' (`there lies and works a soul
in all things, and that soul is God'), the endless cycle of renewal and
regeneration, `From dearth to plenty, and from death to life', is
reciprocated by the poet's own experience of spiritual despair and
deliverance.134
The `pilgrimage' traced within The Task thus differs strategically
from the pattern established by traditional spiritual autobiographies,
in that it suggests that despair is not always relieved by salvation;
hence the uniform transfer of self-articulation to the structural
framework of spiritual salvation is denied. This negation of `closure'
recurs in Cowper's ®nal poetical work, The Cast-Away (1799), a poem
which explores the repeated compulsion to revisit and relive trau-
matic experience ± in this case, the isolation and estrangement felt
by the poet himself. In its poignant evocation of abandonment,
Cowper's poem presents a disturbing articulation of the experiences
of exile and transportation that are marginalised and/or silenced
within the narratives of former slaves. However, whilst the slaves'
capture severed them culturally and socially from their native
epistemological beliefs, the ùnutterable despair' of Cowper's `destined
wretch' cannot be explained on these terms. The possibility of
salvation, a principal tenet of radical dissenting Protestantism, is in
fact denied and the probability of divine intervention negated in
totalis: `No voice divine the storm allay'd, / No light propitious
shone'.135 Possibly in¯uenced by Richard Walker's description of a
seaman swept overboard whilst sailing round Cape Horn in Book I
of Lord George Anson's A Voyage Round the World in the Years
1740±1744 (1748), the metaphors of inundation which in The Task had
signi®ed the necessary precursors to the deliverance of the individual
are abandoned in Cowper's Cast-Away and replaced instead by
desperate images of desolation and isolation: Òf friends, of hope, of
all bereft:
When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
We perish'd, each, alone;
But I, beneath a rougher sea,
And whelm'd in deeper gulphs than he.136
Whereas Cowper's early poems displayed a con®dent trans-
formation of the dynamics of spiritual discourse on to poetical
autobiography and thus determined the poet as an important
precursor to the Romantic poets, the liberationist ideology of
spiritual salvation contained in Cowper's ®nal poems is quali®ed and
replaced by an acute sense of uncertainty and failure, a characteristic
which strategically distinguishes his works from those of the Ro-
mantic poets.
chapter three
Romanticism and abolitionism: Mary Wollstonecraft,

William Blake, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and
William Wordsworth
Over the past two decades the concept of Romanticism as an

homogenised `project' has been rigorously challenged from both
sides of the Atlantic. Leading representatives of Romantic criticism
have presented sophisticated critiques of the established hierarchy of
the Romantic `canon' and have applied illuminating deconstructive
and poststructuralist analyses of Romantic literature; others have
provided lucid interdisciplinary accounts of Romanticism in terms of
class, gender and new historicism.1 As a result, Romanticism is no
longer perceived as simply a Èuropean phenomenon', informed
solely by the political and philosophical legacy of the French
Revolution and the German Empire. The ahistorical, close readings
provided by New Criticism gave way to a study of Romanticism
within the context of a history of ideas informed by western
liberalism. Paul de Man's deconstructive approach offered a way of
reading that resisted àuthoritarian complacency' or a belief in
`timeless truths' and highlighted the inevitable failure of Romanti-
cism's rhetoric of conscious intent and self-representation.2 Work
focusing upon eighteenth-century concepts of sexuality and repre-
sentations of gender by scholars including Mary Jacobus, Anne
Mellor, Marjorie Levinson and Helen Vendler revisited this rhetoric
of `failure' and enlarged the scope of Romantic Studies in terms of
feminist literary history.3 As Mary Favret and Nicola Watson have
indicated, Romanticism's increased identi®cation with critical theory
prompted interest in new areas of previously excluded material and
concerns, including medical treatises, political pamphlets, conduct
books and Jacobin novels.4 Jerome McGann's Romantic Ideology (1983)
registered a critical shift in Britain and America in its critique of the
isolation of the self-conscious Romantic poet from the agents of `real
history' and cultural materialism. According to McGann, the role of
the critic of Romantic poetry is to `make a determined effort to
82
Romanticism and abolitionism 83
elucidate the subject matter of such poems historically: to de®ne the
speci®c ways in which stylistic forms intersect and join with factual
and cognitive points of reference'.5 More recent critical essays
(including those anthologies edited by Alan Richardson and Sonia
Hofkosh, and by Tim Fulford and Peter Kitson) have extended the
study of Romanticism to the wider contexts of colonialism, educa-
tion, racial policy, imperialist practice and international trade.6 This
critical interest in the material conditions and sociopolitical con-
structs within and against which Romantic authors and poets were
placed, has brought about an important revaluation of the literature
produced during the period 1770 to 1830. In addition to these more
recent investigations, this book explores the period's cultural produc-
tions from a revised historical and ideological context. Romanticism
is analysed in terms of its connection with eighteenth-century dissent
and enthusiasm and the use of the discourse of the spirit by leading
Romantic ®gures is examined in the context of abolition and the
emergence of literary expressions of liberation, identity and self-
consciousness. In its application of some of the major strands of
postcolonial, cultural and poststructural theory, this study relocates
the Romantic era within a highly complex period that witnessed
both the culmination of England's participation in the slave trade
and the emergence of pervasive theories of racial difference, along-
side the most vigorous spate of abolitionist demands. 7 Indeed,
prominent blacks such as Ottobah Cugoano and Olaudah Equiano
(discussed in Chapters 6 and 8), in many instances had friends,
associations and acquaintances in common with the Romantics such
as Thomas Clarkson, Granville Sharp and James Ramsay.8 By
highlighting the relation between the use of the discourse of the
spirit employed by Romantic writers, including Wordsworth, Cole-
ridge and Blake, and the uncanonical eighteenth-century dissenting
®gures discussed in Chapter 2, this study proposes an analysis of
eighteenth-century spiritual discourse popularised by radical dis-
senting Protestantism and contained within the prophetic, confes-
sional and abolitionist works published in both America and
England at this time. Moreover, in its relocation of Romanticism
within such a context, this chapter prepares the groundwork for an
important juxtaposition between Romantic writing and the auto-
biographical narratives by African slaves published in England; a
juxtaposition which not only locates a point of cultural contact
between two disparate cultures (Africa and the west) but identi®es a
signi®cant translation and subsequent fusion of African epistemology
with Christian ideology and its expression.
The discourse of the spirit employed within a selection of works by
the ®rst generation Romantic poets, Coleridge, Wordsworth and
Blake, suggests that the language of radical dissenting Protestantism
played a major role in the development of Romantic poetry.
Together with the radical liberationist demands contained within
Mary Wollstonecraft's texts, these works indicate Romanticism's
heterogeneous interaction with liberationist and, at times, aboli-
tionist ideology. With their emphasis on spiritual discourse, epi-
phanic moments of `divine' witness and actual and ®gural concepts
of `captivity' and èmancipation', these texts demonstrate an intri-
cate relationship with the literary framework appropriated by the
slave narratives. In a sense, therefore, these seemingly disparate
literary movements may be seen as products of the same historical
in¯uences. However, whilst the works by the Romantics and the
slaves determined an inscription of a self-authorised sociohistorical
self, they prescribed two very different kinds of literary enterprise
and motives, and were intended for radically different audiences.
Whereas the language of radical dissenting Protestantism provided
the Romantics with convenient tropes of metaphorical captivity and
liberation, the narratives by the slaves registered the very real
experience of transportation and enslavement and carried with them
overt political messages of emancipation.
With the exception of the poems included in the Lyrical Ballads
®rst published in 1798, the Romantic poems discussed below were
originally exposed to a relatively small audience comprised of close
friends and acquaintances, including Charles Lamb, Dorothy
Wordsworth and Robert Southey.9 Wordsworth's two-part Prelude,
transcribed in December 1799, was not published until 1974; the
Prelude of 1805 remained a manuscript until 1926 and the Prelude of
1850 was not printed until ten weeks after Wordsworth's death on 23
April 1850.10 Similarly, the manuscript version of Coleridge's Letter to
Sara Hutchinson differed signi®cantly from the published version,
Dejection: An Ode, and was not published until 1963.11 Blake's single
bid for public recognition, a one-man exhibition in 1809, proved a
total failure; only when he was in his sixties did he attract a small
group of painters to serve as an audience for his work.12 In contrast,
the slave narratives were on the whole aimed at a wider audience as
a means of providing ®nancial support for their authors and
advancing abolitionist ideology. Many of their works were immensely
popular and were reissued in numerous editions and under various
titles throughout Great Britain and America during the seventy years
or so following their publication.13 One other major difference
between the production and consumption of the works by the slave
narrators was economic: most slave narratives were published by
subscription; buyers were committed to paying something towards
the book prior to its publication. As a consequence, the subscription
lists which preceded the texts functioned as a means of promotion and
credibility and often included the names of socially and politically
prominent ®gures, members of the aristocracy, key abolitionists and
bluestocking authors. The texts themselves, often edited or rewritten
by dissenting editors and philanthropists, attracted a wide spectrum
of readers who welcomed the narratives' adventurous plots, their
`conversion' frameworks and their pro-abolitionist ideology.
Therefore, whilst it is true that the writings by slaves and the
Romantics employed similar tropes of liberation and spiritual dis-
course, it is also clear that a considerable ideological distance
separated them. In the works of the Romantics, the trope of isolation
and/or alienation tended to be at most a temporary, fairly domestic,
`literary' device which established the poets' sense of election,
isolation and subsequent reassimilation into society. For the slaves
however, the narrative tropes of `captivity' and `liberation' desig-
nated actual rather than ®gurative traumatic processes of cultural
severance and estrangement, an experience shared by many thou-
sands of other slaves by virtue of their removal from their native
lands, their transportation across the Atlantic to the plantations of
the West Indies and America and (for a signi®cant few) their
subsequent journeys to the slave-trading ports of England and their
reemergence as identities in the diaspora. For the slave narrators, the
discourse of the spirit described a process by which the slave's
former cultural self was redetermined within the parameters of
Christian ideology and expression. This recon®guration of identity
involved a delicate negotiation in which cultural alterity was inscribed
and contained within the popularised discourse of radical dissenting
Protestantism. For both the Romantics and the slave narrators,
however, the `non-linguistic' moments of spiritual witness provided
cryptic paradigms of liberationist, and sometimes abolitionist, ideol-
ogy wherein the concept of memory inaugurated a complex dis-
course of identity con®guration within a literary framework.
mary wollstonecraft: feminism and abolitionism

If they are really capable of acting like rational creatures, let
them not be treated as slaves.14
On the margins of canonical Romanticism, yet highly signi®cant in
its relationship with Romanticism's paradigms of liberationist ideol-
ogy, the work of Mary Wollstonecraft provides an invaluable link
between the discourse of racial and gendered inequality in its
employment of abolitionist rhetoric. Published by Johnson, the same
publisher of works by William Blake and John Stedman, Mary
Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Men (1790) and Vindication of
the Rights of Woman: With Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects (1792)
provide key components in the development of liberationist dis-
course in the context of colonial and slave ideology. Written as a
repudiation of Edmund Burke's defence of the monarchy and the
aristocracy contained within his Re¯ections on the Revolution in France,
Mary Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Men identi®ed the
inalienable right to liberty as a necessary prerequisite to the creation
of a society based upon the principles of reason and justice.
Wollstonecraft's text denounced Burke's three main hypotheses: that
all legal and political authority should be derived from the past; that
the alliance between the church and civil government was a
condition of civil society; and that the class system, as determined by
property ownership, was `natural'.15 It condemned Burke's un-
ashamed conservatism and denounced slavery as an atrocious and
inhuman traf®c that contravened èvery suggestion of reason and
religion'.16 Likewise, Wollstonecraft de®ned the slave trade as a
pernicious cause of spiritual deterioration, a trade which fed ùpon
human ¯esh' and consumed the `very soul' of society. 17
But is it not consonant with justice, with the common principles of
humanity, not to mention Christianity, to abolish this abominable
inveterate mischief . . . If it [Parliament] gloriously dared to shew the world
that British senators were men: if the natural feelings of humanity silenced
the cold cautions of timidity . . . and all men were allowed to enjoy their
birth-right ± liberty.18
Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Men concluded with an

utopian vision of land redistribution, the new Èden' that would be
achieved if large estates were divided into smaller farms. Such a
concept had informed the millenarian prophetic writings of the New
Jerusalem, including those by Richard Brothers, and indeed the
more extreme demands of slaves, maroons and radical abolitionists.
A rather more philosophical justi®cation was given within William
Godwin's Enquiry Concerning Political Justice (1793).19 In that text,
Godwin (later Wollstonecraft's lover and the source of Wordsworth's
anxiety in Book XI of the Prelude) prophesied society's inevitable but
peaceful progression, achieved by equal land distribution and the
eradication of government. Such radical notions of land redistribu-
tion must have haunted English absentee landlords and plantocratic
owners, especially in the wake of recent slave rebellions in the
colonies and parliamentary debates on abolition.
Published in the year following the successful insurrection by
slaves in the French colony of St Domingue, Wollstonecraft's Vindica-
tion of the Rights of Woman: With Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects
(1792) hinged upon a discourse of property rights.20 In this text,
Wollstonecraft identi®ed the condition of women with that of the
oppressed slaves and further emphasised the morally undesirable
effects of sexism/slavery upon slaveholders and husbands: `They
[women] may be convenient slaves, but slavery will have its constant
effect, degrading the master and the abject dependent'.21 Wollstone-
craft emphasised the violation of the `sacred rights of humanity'
effected by women's subordination and placed a signi®cant stress on
the enforced sexual abuse suffered by female slaves at the hands of
their plantocratic masters: Ìs one half of the human species, like the
poor African slaves, to be subject to prejudices that brutalise
them?'22 According to Wollstonecraft, `marriage', in the form that it
existed in England in 1792, was a form of legal slavery not dissimilar
to that endured by Africans in the British West Indies. In legal and
sociopolitical terms, a wife could not own property, bring legal suits,
or expect guaranteed custody of her own children. 23 Hence Woll-
stonecraft's discussion of female subjugation rested fundamentally
upon the dynamics of emancipatory and abolitionist discourse.
Economic and psychological dependence had, according to Woll-
stonecraft, deprived women of their rights to liberty and autonomy:
Liberty is the mother of virtue, and if women are, by their very constitution,
slaves, and not allowed to breathe the sharp invigorating air of freedom,
they must ever languish like exotics, and be reckoned beautiful ¯aws in
nature.24
A woman's value, she argued, was judged not in terms of her

spiritual or intellectual capacities, but upon her external and
reproductive potential ± a process not dissimilar to the way in which
a slave's value was assessed. This subjugated women to the `pride,
sensuality and desire' of their tyrants and con®ned them to a
perpetually dependent state of childhood and ignorance: `Taught
from their infancy that beauty is woman's sceptre, the mind shapes
itself to the body, and, roaming round its gilt cage, only seeks to
adorn its prison'.25 If instead, she argued, a woman's understanding
was èmancipated' from its condition of servitude, then claims
advocating her biological and rational inferiority would be over-
turned: rational education would lead to rational love and egali-
tarian marriages based upon companionship rather than purely
sexual desire.26
Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Woman therefore strategi-
cally correlated tenets of emancipation with concepts of social
freedom and intellectual stimulation. In addition, her text radically
suggested that given the conditions of women's/slaves' servitude,
their cunning methods of rebellion and independence were, in a
sense, justi®ed: `Women, it is true, obtaining power by unjust means,
by practising or fostering vice, evidently lose the rank which reason
would assign them, and they become either abject slaves or capri-
cious tyrants'.27 Similarly, in her Historical and Moral View of the Origin
and Progress of the French Revolution (1794), Wollstonecraft argued that
the deprivation of natural, equal, civil and political rights established
a dichotomy between `tyrants and slaves' and forced otherwise
respectable individuals to resort to theft, àtrocious robberies and
murder'. Such a pernicious hierarchy, she suggested, would always
result in volatile, àlways terrible', insurrection.28
However, her parallel between black slaves and white females was
not unproblematic, especially when one considers the complex
nature of the power relationships between white colonial mistresses
and their female slaves, vividly described in Mary Prince's History of
Mary Prince (1831) and Moses Roper's Narrative of the Adventures and
Escape of Moses Roper, from American Slavery (1837).29 In terms of
structure and content, Wollstonecraft's work represented a strategic
detachment from any overt relation to autobiographical or `spiritual'
discourse and advanced instead an effective rational, objective
rhetoric. Indeed, her account of the Interesting Narrative by Olaudah
Equiano in the Analytical Review of May 1789, suggested that the
slave's rendition of his conversion to Methodism was `rather tire-
some' and that his narrative should have concluded with his acquisi-
tion of freedom.30 Thus, whereas Wollstonecraft's work promoted a
liberationist schema in terms of gender, her texts remain resolutely
detached from the mode of discourse popularised by radical dis-
senting Protestants and emancipatory ideology. Conversely, the
poetical works by Wollstonecraft's contemporary, Samuel Taylor
Coleridge, prescribed narratives of èmancipation' wherein the
in¯uence of the dynamics of spiritual discourse were barely con-
cealed. Coleridge's work extended the abolitionist and evangelical
design, established by William Cowper, into the public forum as
demonstrated by his Lecture on the Slave Trade. His poems, especially
those referred to as the `conversation poems', maintained the
personalised, autobiographical framework of conversion narratives,
yet proffered a signi®cantly revised version of both the confessional
motif and the discourse of the spirit.
coleridge's bitter sweet `lecture on the

slave trade'
On 16 June 1795, Samuel Taylor Coleridge delivered his Lecture on the
Slave Trade at the Assembly Coffee House at the Quay in Bristol, one
of England's major slave-trading ports. The text of the Lecture was
subsequently printed in a condensed and revised form in the fourth
issue of the poet's short-lived journal, The Watchman, on 25 March
1796.31 Given that the height of abolitionist protest occurred during
the period 1789±1792 and was followed by a climate of suspicion and
fear under the Pitt government, Coleridge's lecture took place at a
time when àbolitionism' had begun to lose respectability.32 Seven
years earlier, in March 1788, in the same city, Wesley had preached
his famous sermon on the immorality of slavery at the New Room in
Bristol. In 1792, three years prior to his Lecture, Coleridge, then still
at Cambridge, had been awarded the Browne Gold Medal for his
Òde on the Slave Trade', a poem which had invoked Nemesis to
send punishment to those who were `sated with the persecution' of a
miserable people.33 Coleridge may well have read Blumenbach's
Òn the Varieties of Mankind' (1775), a text which repudiated claims
which suggested that blacks and whites were two distinct species (see
Chapter 5), as three years after the delivery of this Lecture on the Slave
Trade, Coleridge went to study under Blumenbach in 1798±1799.
The day before the delivery of the Lecture, Coleridge consulted the
Bristol Library's copy of Clarkson's Essay on the Impolicy of the African
Slave Trade (1788) and Carl Bernhard Wadstrom's Essay on Coloniza-
tion, Particularly Applied to the Western Coast of Africa, with Some Free
Thoughts on Cultivation and Commerce (1794), along with notes gathered
by his friend and colleague, Robert Southey, from Antony Benezet's
Some Historical Account of Guinea (1781).34 Clarkson's text referred to
the work of the female slave, Phillis Wheatley (discussed in Chapter 7
below), as an example of Àfrican intellectual potential' and provided
a synopsis of her life as a slave and extracts from three of the poems
included in her poetical volume, Poems on Various Subjects (1773), a
`Hymn to Evening', a `Hymn to Morning' and `Thoughts on
Imagination'.35 Wheatley's work had also been celebrated in the
long poem, The Female Advocate (1774) by Mary Scott, the Unitarian
poet and in Mary Deverell's Òn Reading the Poems of Phillis
Wheatley', a poem in the latter's Miscellanies in Prose and Verse (1781)
which described Wheatley as a representative of à race divine; /
Like marble that in quarries lies conceal'd'.36 Coleridge's text may
also have been in¯uenced by the testimonial narratives delivered at
abolitionist gatherings by former slave-traders and African slaves
alike, as well as by denunciations of the trade contained within
published narratives, including Ottobah Cugoano's pamphlet of
1787 and Olaudah Equiano's (Gustavus Vassa's) autobiographical
text of 1789. In his two-volume Essay on Colonization, which contained
the now famous cross-section of a typical slave ship, Wadstrom had
denounced the trade as an Èuropean iniquity' which had hindered
the superior bene®ts of colonisation:
Thus Asia and America became the principal theatres of the ambition and
avidity of the Europeans; and happy had it been for Africa if they had so
continued. But it is distressing to recollect the rapid progress of European
iniquity among the simple and untutored nations inhabiting the other
quarters of the world . . . It was soon found that the aborigines of the
former [America] could not endure the toils imposed on them by their new
masters . . . Here commenced the Slave-trade.37
For Wadstrom, the slave trade, `that scourge of the human race
which has kept down a great part of the Africans in a state of
anarchy and blood', had not only impeded the expanding forces of
civilisation within Africa, but had prevented plantocratic merchants
from `countenancing the colonisation of that continent'.38 Wad-
strom's text thus proposed commercialisation of Africa as an alter-
native to the transportation of West African slaves to the West
Indies. During his Lecture on the Slave Trade, Coleridge advanced a
critique of the trade in terms of its creation and maintenance of
unnecessary, or àrti®cial wants'. He de®ned the produce of others'
labour, such as the `Sugars, Rum, Cotton, log-wood, cocoa, coffee,
pimento, ginger, indigo, mahogany, and conserves' imported from
the colonies, as a major source of the nation's miseries and vices.39
If, argued Coleridge, English consumers were to con®ne their wishes
to the àctual necessaries and real comfort of Life', all causes of
complaint and iniquity would be removed: `What Nature demands
Nature everywhere amply supplies ± asking for it that portion only
of Toil, which would have been otherwise necessary, as Exercise'.40
Coleridge criticised government policy concerning the slave trade,
higlighting the fact that the import duties of such `slave' produce
contributed a substantial amount to the government's revenue.41
Paradoxically, however, it was precisely the marketing of such
àrti®cial wants' which had precipitated the increasing popularity of
coffee houses throughout Britain, including that in which Coleridge's
own lecture took place.
Nevertheless, Coleridge's text developed a narrative which juxta-
posed the development of a spiritual capacity with the grati®cation
of `bodily' wants. Composed in the same year as the Lecture,
Coleridge's Six Lectures on Revealed Religion (1795) had established a
critique of the defects of the established Church and its clergy, and
cited psychological evidence of truth as offered by David Hartley's
Observations on Man (1749).42 Likewise, his Lecture prioritised the
transcendental potential of the mind and its pilgrimage towards an
èver-widening prospect': `the mind must enlarge the sphere of its
activity'.43 By fusing, perhaps unknowingly, Joseph Addison's prin-
cipal ideas of the imagination stated in The Spectator (21 June 1712)
and Mark Akenside's blank-verse poem, Pleasures of Imagination (1744),
Coleridge's text advanced a prototype of liberationist ideology subtly
synchronised with a diluted (or indeed, muted) form of spiritual
discourse and individual autonomy:
To develope the powers of the Creator is our proper employment ± and to
imitate Creativeness by combination our most exalted and self-satisfying
Delight. But we are progressive and must not rest content with present
Blessings. Our Almighty Parent hath therefore given to us Imagination that
stimulates to the attainment of real excellence by the contemplation of
splendid Possibilities that still revivi®es the dying motive within us, and
®xing our eye on the glittering Summits that rise one above the other in Alpine
endlessness still urges us up the ascent of Being, amusing the ruggedness of
the road with the beauty and grandeur of the ever-widening Prospect.44
In the condensed form of the Lecture on the Slave Trade which

appeared in the Watchman one year later, Coleridge made explicit
man's dependence upon this faculty of the imagination in deter-
mining his position upon the Great Chain of Being: `But Providence
which has distinguished Man from the lower orders of Being by the
progressiveness of his nature, forbids him to be contented. It has
given us the faculty of the Imagination'. In so doing, Coleridge
minimised his critique of slavery, or indeed the slave trade, and
advanced instead the metamorphic translation of the discourse of
the spirit into Romantic ideology's concept of the ìmagination'. As
far as his criticism of the `pestilent invention' of ùnreal wants' was
concerned, Coleridge's analysis of the trade implied that without the
demand for luxurious goods, the problem of London's poor would
be eradicated. His lecture hence presented a shift in focus away from
the plight of the African victims and highlighted instead the fate of
those English citizens who, ùnwary or in greater distress', had been
tricked into employment on board a slave-trading vessel. By prior-
itising the deplorable `loss of liberty' encountered by these slave-
trading seamen and their horri®c experience amidst the ùnwhole-
someness of the climate' of both the African continent and the
middle passage, Coleridge's text relocated the traumatic experience
of slavery onto the hardships suffered by locals:
From the brutality of their Captain and the unwholesomeness of the
Climate through which they pass, it has been calculated that every Slave
Vessel from the Port of Bristol loses on an average almost a fourth of the
whole Crew ± and so far is this Trade from being a nursery for Seamen,
that the Survivors are rather shadows in their appearance than men and
frequently perish in Hospitals after the completion of the Voyage.45
Coleridge's endeavour to avoid too direct a reference to the trade,

alongside the omission from the published text of his vehement
attack on the Pitt administration, re¯ected both the growing sup-
pression of anti-state criticism in the 1790s and the continued
reverberations of the public response to the St Domingue slave
insurrections of 1791±1892. Yet the transcript of the original (now
lost) manuscript of the Lecture on the Slave Trade by E. H. Coleridge
suggests that the contributions made by Coleridge's colleague,
Robert Southey, to the text strategically differed from Coleridge's
focus on luxury and the sufferings of England's poor.46 Drawing
heavily on Benezet's account of his voyage to the coast of Guinea
and the reports by the Dutch traveller, William Bosman, Southey's
contribution to the narrative focused on the slaves themselves and
presented a sexualised (and somewhat titillating) account of the
slaves' experience during the Middle Passage, possibly in an attempt
to heighten his audience's sympathy:
The wretched slaves . . . are examined stark naked male and female, and after
being marked on the breast with a red hot iron, with the arms and names
of the company or owner, who are the purchasers; they are thrust
promiscuously into the ship ± when on board they are always fettered with
leg-shack[l]es and handcuffs, two and two ± right and left ± they lie in a
crowded and cramped state, having neither their length nor breadth.47
These intertextual, co-editorial relations between Southey and
Coleridge, and indeed between their work and Newton's Authentic
Narrative were reinforced in Southey's `The Sailor Who Had Served
in the Slave Trade' (1790), a poem not dissimilar to Coleridge's
ballad poem, `The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' (1798). Based on
the story of a dissenting minister in Bristol who discovered a sailor in
a perplexed state of mind, Southey's and Coleridge's poetical
compositions reworked the autobiographical narrative of the con-
science-haunted sailor in Newton's text. Yet whereas in Coleridge's
text, direct references to the slave trade were removed, in Southey's
account, these were foregrounded and speci®ed.48 Thus whilst
Coleridge's `Rime of the Ancient Mariner' describes the journey of a
guilt-ridden sailor who seeks forgiveness for his involuntary killing of
an albatross, Southey's `Sailor' relates the tale of his journeying on
board a `Guinea-man' towards the slave coast, the capture of a cargo
of 300 negro slaves and their refusal to eat. One of these enslaved
Africans, a `woman sulkier than the rest', is singled out by the
captain of the ship, who orders the sailor to `tie her up' and ¯og her
to death in front of the crew and the other captives. Her body is
¯ung overboard and Southey's sailor, traumatised, repeatedly revisits
the scene in his conscience:
I saw the sea close over her,
Yet she was still in sight;
I see her thrashing every where;
I see her day and night.49
The sailor's efforts to purge himself of guilt culminate in a moving
confessional account of his cruel treatment of a female slave, an
account similar to that found in the Interesting Narrative (1789) by
the ex-slave, Olaudah Equiano (discussed in Chapter 8 below).50
The casting of black slaves overboard into the Atlantic, whether
healthy or dying, was not a rare occurrence; the most infamous
example being that which occurred on board the slave ship Zong.
During its return voyage to England in 1781, a debilitating illness
wiped out a signi®cant number of slaves on board. In an effort to
recover the slavers' initial investment via the legal insurance
provision for slaves ìrretrievably' lost at sea, 133 healthy slaves
were cast overboard at the orders of Luke Collingwood, the Zong's
captain.51 In court (Gregson v. Gilbert), the owners of the Zong
pleaded successfully that the slaves' presence had endangered the
water supply. As the note at the end of `The Sailor' suggests,
Southey felt that such accounts of inhumane treatment òught to
be made as public as possible'. This was precisely the motivation
behind the actions of the ex-slave, Olaudah Equiano, who, in
March 1783, informed Granville Sharp of the Zong incident.52
Sharp's initial response was to pursue the prosecution of the Zong
sailors themselves. Although Sharp abandoned this approach, it
was, in a sense, continued within the poems produced by Cole-
ridge and Southey. In Coleridge's poem, however, speci®c identi®-
cation of the slave trade as a `sin' is absent; the unmotivated
killing of the albatross is mitigated by the involuntary blessing of
the slimy serpents of the sea. Indeed in both poems, deliverance is
granted, or at least secured, by the respective mariners' pleas for
forgiveness. Nevertheless, the issue of forgiveness on a scale that
implicates the error at the heart of Britain's legal and economic
practice, is not, and indeed could not be addressed so long as
slaves were considered as forms of property.
Taking his cue from William Fox's famous pamphlet, A Short
Account of the African Slave Trade, and an Address to the People of Great
Britain on the Propriety of Abstaining from West Indian Sugar and Rum,
Coleridge's Lecture on the Slave Trade proposed abstinence from slave-
grown produce, `sweetened with the Blood of the Murdered', as an
effective means of achieving a cessation of the trade ± a method
which he considered preferable to the circulation of petitions by
what he termed `the vanity of pretended Sensibility': that is, well-
educated philanthropic females. 53 Yet Coleridge's concluding in-
¯ammatory lines daringly correlated the volatile insurrections and
`justi®ed rebellions' of West Indian slaves in the colonies with the
desperate plight of the British peasantry:
For I appeal to common sense whether to af®rm that the Slaves are as well
off as our Peasantry, be not the same as to assert that our Peasantry are as
bad off as Negro Slaves ± and whether if the Peasantry believed it there is a
man amongst them who [would] not rebel? and be justi®ed in Rebellion? 54
Thus Coleridge's lecture òn' rather than àgainst' the slave trade
strategically avoided a discussion of the slaves themselves; rather, it
centred upon a discussion of the concept of luxury and the sufferings
of the English peasantry, and hinted at the threat which he felt had
been posed to his creative èmpire' by the females of `pretended
sensibility'. Yet despite its shortcomings, Coleridge's Lecture provides
ample evidence of the poet's awareness and involvement in aboli-
tionist activity. It was, however, within the `conversation poems',
composed during the late 1790s, that the poet presented a sensitive
exploration of the conditions of estrangement, captivity and liberty,
and in so doing, revealed the in¯uence of the discourse of radical
dissenting Protestantism on his own contribution to Romantic poetry.
coleridge's discourse of the spirit:

the `conversation poems'
During the period of his closest friendship with Wordsworth,
Coleridge composed a letter to Thomas Poole (6 February 1797), the
®rst in a series of ®ve autobiographical letters written at Poole's
request. In that letter the poet expressed his admiration for the
power of the spiritual autobiographies composed by dissenting
Protestants, published by The Gospel Magazine and Theological Review,
which had made its ®rst appearance the year before:
I could inform the dullest author how he might write an interesting book ±
let him relate the events of his own Life with honesty, not disguising the
feelings that accompanied them. ± I never yet read even a Methodist's
Èxperience' in the Gospel Magazine without receiving instruction &
amusement: & I should almost despair of that Man, who could peruse the
Life of John Woolman without an amelioration of Heart.55
Although there is no further evidence to con®rm Coleridge's detailed
knowledge of these or any other spiritual autobiographies by radical
dissenting Protestants, Coleridge's reference to the Quaker-aboli-
tionist and spiritual autobiographer, John Woolman, suggests that
his interest in such autobiographies emerged from an antislavery
context. Likewise, evidence of his borrowings from the Bristol
Library between 1793 and 1798 reveal the poet's thorough investi-
gation of antislavery accounts: in March 1795 Coleridge borrowed
the third volume of the library's Miscellaneous Poems which contained
Hannah More's Slavery: A Poem (1788) and Ann Yearsley's Poems on the
Inhumanity of the Slave Trade (1788).56 Between March and August
1795, Coleridge also borrowed Raynal's Philosophical and Political
History of the Settlements (1776), Clarkson's Essay on the Impolicy of the
Slave Trade (1788), Wadstrom's Essay on Colonisation (1794±1795) and
Edwards' The History, Civil and Commercial, of the British Colonies in the
West Indies (1793±1794).
On the front page of the ®rst volume of The Gospel Magazine, the
editor introduced À Word to those Lovers of Truth' in `these days of
blasphemy, rebuke, in®delity, heresy and error' and adamantly
claimed that the narratives (including the `Memoirs of the Life of
John James Claude', the `Remarkable Passages in the Life of Mr
Vavasor Powel', and the `Singular Experience and Great Sufferings
of Mrs Agnes') which followed were valid examples of `sterling truth,
in all its brilliancy and glory'.57 Over two decades earlier, the
abolitionist Quaker, John Woolman (1720±1772) had published his
Journal of the Life, Gospel Labours, and Christian Experiences of that Faithful
Minister of Jesus Christ, John Woolman in Philadelphia in 1774, in
London in 1775 and in Dublin in 1776. In this Journal, the narrative
of Woolman's deliverance from the `depths of misery' by the ìnward
principle' demonstrated his concern for the inhuman and iniquitous
practice of slavery:
I was so af¯icted in my mind, that I said, before my master and the friend,
that I believed slave-keeping to be a practice inconsistent with the Christian
religion.58
Likewise, in his tract, Some Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes (1754),

Woolman had declared to his Quaker Friends in words not unlike
those contained within Coleridge's Lecture, that it was their duty as
`creatures accountable to our Creator, to employ rightly the under-
standing which he hath given us'.59 Moreover, Woolman had
identi®ed the `spirit which breathes peace and good will' as the
agent which would bring about their philanthropic ambitions. 60
In keeping with the narrative framework of Woolman's text and
those contained within the Gospel Magazine, Coleridge elucidated in
his letter to Poole his own plans for a similar autobiographical
project. This, he suggested, would trace the progress of his life with
all its `charms of variety: high Life, & low Life, Vices and Virtues,
great Folly & some Wisdom'.61 Such a `task' would prove to be
invaluable in his effort to `renew and deepen' his re¯ections of the
past and thereby reveal the `many untoward circumstances' which
had concurred to form those `weaknesses and defects of his char-
acter'.62 Coleridge's interest in the discourse of radical dissenting
Protestantism may have been provoked by his despair at the news of
his brother Frank's suicide in 1792, the deaths of six members of his
immediate family between 1780 and 1792 and his own feelings of
hopelessness following his secret enlistment in the King's Light
Dragoons on 2 December 1793: `Shall I profess an abhorrence of my
past conduct? . . . I am lost in the labyrinth, the trackless wilderness
of my own bosom'.63 The fact that Coleridge's father was vicar of
the parish church at Ottery St Mary (where Joanna Southcott was
baptised) in Devon and that Coleridge visited him and his brother
there on a fairly regular basis, suggests that he may have been
familiar with reports of the spiritual teachings advanced by South-
cott and Wesley. Likewise, his running away after a quarrel with his
brother Frank in the autumn of 1779 and his subsequent night spent
by the banks of the River Otter during a storm suggests that he
would have responded sympathetically to the narratives of salvation
and despair presented within spiritual autobiographies, by John
Newton, William Cowper and the slaves.
Whatever the actual source of his awareness of this literary trope,
the poet's interest in `spiritual autobiography' occurred alongside his
deliberate withdrawal from the sociopolitical, and indeed, aboli-
tionist, sphere. As he explained in his letter to J. P. Estlin, by the
summer of 1797 he had become, or so he claimed, `wearied with
politics even to soreness'. One year later, in a letter to his brother of
March 1798, Coleridge announced that he had completely detached
himself from any consideration of ìmmediate causes'. Rather, he
announced that he would turn his attentions towards the com-
position of a style of poetry which he believed would èlevate the
imagination & set the affections in right tune by the beauty of the
inanimate impregnated as with the living soul, by the presence of
Life'. The works composed during this period, however, reveal a
subtle continuation of the concepts of spiritual liberty and self-
autonomy, characteristic of both the language of radical dissenting
Protestantism and abolitionist discourse. Likewise, according to
Bernard Martin, it was very possible that Coleridge had read New-
ton's Authentic Narrative or had had it brought to his attention by
William or Dorothy Wordsworth between 13 November 1797 and 23
March 1798.64 Indeed it seems that Wordsworth was making use of
John Newton's Authentic Narrative (most likely the episode in which
Newton becomes a slave to a man named Clow on the Guinea Coast
of Africa) at the same time that Coleridge was composing `The Rime
of the Ancient Mariner' (1797).65
Thomas Clarkson had introduced Coleridge to the Quaker, John
Broadhead, and during his time at Leeds, Coleridge reread the
works of many of his favourite Quaker authors, including George
Fox, William Penn and John Woolman, amply demonstrating the
intertextual transatlantic connection between nonconformist reli-
gious sentiment, abolitionist ideology and Romantic concerns. 66
Both Coleridge's and Wordsworth's work denotes an important
metamorphosis of the captivity and liberationist genre in which the
concept of spiritual impregnation, as recorded by Wesley and other
radical prophets, is subtly translated into the power of poetry and
identi®ed as imagination's power to impregnate and thereby liberate
the `living soul', hence inaugurating (or rather con®rming) the poet/
prophet's spiritual role. And yet whilst structurally and ideologically
these poets continue the trope of liberationist, individual deter-
minism advanced by such spiritual autobiographies, they also deter-
mine a severance from and erasure of overt references to
abolitionism. Coleridge's `conversation poems' skilfully establish a
composite continuation of, and departure from the discourse of
spiritual autobiography articulated within the paradigm of radical
dissenting Protestantism.67
Dedicated to Sara Fricker, whom Coleridge had married on 4
October 1795, four months following his Lecture on the Slave Trade, the
®rst of these `conversation poems', `The Eolian Harp' (1795),
presented a transformation of Wesley's image of the `breath of the
spirit' as a metaphor delineating the workings of an ìntellectual
breeze' which stirred the mind into consciousness:
And what if all of animated nature
Be but organic Harps diversely fram'd,
That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps
Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze,
At once the Soul of each, and God of all?68
Sara's mild reproof cautions the poet against too scienti®c a rationale
of the ìncomprehensible', that which one ìnly feels'. Yet the poem's
authentication of the powers of the spirit (that ìndeterminate
breeze' which impregnates all things) and its complex interrelation-
ship with self-knowledge, remains unchallenged. It is a breeze, which
like Wesley's breath of the spirit enlivens, animates and in a sense
`reveals' the self. Coleridge's use of the language of radical dissenting
Protestantism forges a link with that employed within the slave
narratives, yet in Coleridge's version, the self is mapped on to a
mode of discourse severed (or seemingly so) from socioeconomic or
historical speci®city ± a self prescribed by the self. In the editorial
amendments to the poem of 1817, this source of liberation is
redetermined as a power, no longer originating exclusively from
without, but as a power which emerged from within the self: Ò! the
one Life within us and abroad, / Which meets all motion and
becomes its soul, / A light in sound, a sound-like power in light, /
Rhythm in all thought, and joyance every where'.69 Although the
difference is subtle, the implications of this transformation are great:
in Coleridge's hands, narratives of spiritual liberation and self-
authorisation become centred around the concept of the imagination
and the individual, rather than the collective self.
Coleridge's poem, `This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison', composed
in June 1797, inscribes a model of redemption similarly expounded in
the autobiographical narratives of spiritual salvation. More impor-
tantly perhaps, in this poetical model of deliverance, the powers of
the spirit are unambiguously replaced by the liberating powers of the
poet's own imagination. His friends William, Dorothy and Charles
Lamb are free to wander as they please, yet Coleridge envisages
himself as ìmprisoned' within the perimeters of the lime-tree bower,
an image which re¯ects the decrepit or `stagnant' powers of his own
powers of creativity: `. . . I have lost / Beauties and feelings, such as
would have been / Most sweet to my remembrance even when age /
Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness!'70 Whereas the magni®cent
external landscape revives the `gentle-hearted' Charles (whose
insane sister had stabbed their mother to death ten months earlier),
Coleridge's inner self is impregnated by a power that emerges from
within. It is a power which enables him to imagine himself liberated
from the constraints of his present condition and reunited with his
friends: À delight / Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad / As
I myself were there!'71 As with Wesley's resonant utterances of the
spirit's revitalising power of `new birth', the restorative power of
the imagination liberates the anguished poetical self from physical
and mental con®nement and achieves an hypostatic state of
illuminated bliss. In this state, akin to sancti®cation, the bower is
transformed from an image of imprisonment and exile to that of
`transparent' and therefore unbinding, luxurious foliage. Hence the
poet glimpses a prophetic state of being in which he is able to
discover (`gaze', `perceive'), acknowledge (`henceforth I shall know')
and partake in that which is usually unavailable to man (Ànd
sometimes . . . contemplate with lively joy, the joys we cannot
share'); a participation within manifestations of in®nitude (space)
and eternity (time):
. . . So my friend
Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood,
Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round
On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem
Less gross than bodily; and of such hues
As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes
Spirits perceive his presence.72
As the poet is `blessed' with a disclosure of the realm inhabited by
the Àlmighty Spirit', he is endowed with a mystical power of
articulation which enables him to speak of salvation and which fuses
his own text with a manifestation of divine logos, the Word.
coleridge's `letter to sara hutchinson'

In line with the early `conversation poems', Coleridge's `Letter to
Sara Hutchinson' remains distinctly informed by the schema of
spiritual autobiography in its elucidation of the poet's acute sense of
melancholy, his depressed state of delusion and inactivity, and his
subsequent `deliverance'. Composed on the evening of 4 April 1802
after hearing the ®rst four stanzas of Wordsworth's Ode: Intimations of
Immortality, the original version of the 340-line verse `Letter to Sara'
underwent a signi®cant series of revisions and deletions over a six
month period, the ®nal variant of which (entitled Dejection: An Ode)
presents a far less autobiographical, less personalised and less critical
text. In this subsequent published version, dedicated to Wordsworth
under the pseudonym Èdmund' and printed in the Morning Post (4
October 1802) on both Wordsworth's wedding day and the seventh
anniversary of Coleridge's own wedding, the earlier references to
Sara Hutchinson (sister of Wordsworth's ®anceÂe with whom Cole-
ridge had fallen in love) and to his disastrous relationship with Sara
Fricker were carefully omitted.73
In the original form of the `Letter to Sara', the poet's depressed
state isolates him from any solace arising from the soothing land-
scape and its enigmatic evening sunset: hence he gazes ìn this
heartless Mood' with `how blank an eye!'74 Identifying himself with
the hero of Milton's Samson Agonistes, Coleridge's `genial spirits' fail to
deliver him from this state of spiritual malaise or from the erosion of
his innate creative powers effected by the oppressive `smoth'ring
Weight' of his `coarse domestic life' (experiencing no `mutual mild
Enjoyment of its own') with Delilah/Sara Fricker: Àll this long Eve,
so balmy & serene, / Have I been gazing on the western Sky . . . / I
see them all, so excellently fair! / I see, not feel, how beautiful they
[clouds] are!'75 This `burden' of a grief `without a pang', `sti¯ing,
drowsy and unimpassioned', constitutes an emotional and spiritual
sterility (`Void, dark, drear') which the poet suffers alone, unconsoled
by external forms which, according to him, remain `lifeless shapes':
Ì may not hope from outward Forms to win / The Passion & the
Life, whose Fountains are within!'76
Coleridge's search for spiritual liberation takes him on a retro-
spective journey through time towards the memory of his younger
self, a being similarly `cloistered in a City school', who gazes with
`secret yearnings' towards an hypothetical maiden, à kind of Vision
to me!' who exists beyond the boundaries of his imprisonment.77
Having èstablished' a continuum through time between his past and
present self, the poet projects a future `vision' of Sara, whose gaze he
imagines as coalescing with his own yearning for spiritual and
emotional liberation. As the boundaries of space and time are
transcended, the poet's metaphorical blindness is miraculously
`cured' amidst an ecstatic moment of spiritual awakening and
emotional deliverance which leaves his spirit àwe-stricken with the
Excess / And trance-like Depth of it's brief Happiness'.
I feel my spirit moved ±
And wheresoe'er thou be,
O Sister! O Beloved!
Those dear mild Eyes, that see
Even now the Heaven, I see ±
There is a Prayer in them! It is for me ±
And I, dear Sara ± I am blessing thee! 78
In accordance with the structural framework of former confes-
sional narratives and spiritual autobiographies by radical dissenting
Protestants, Coleridge's poetical `Letter to Sara' underscores the
distinction between his former `blessed' self and his present des-
pairing self: `For Hope grew round me, like the climbing Vine . . ./
But now Ill Tidings bow me down . . .'.79 However, despite his
emotional wretchedness and anguished inactivity, the poet's text
expounds a new-found faith in his own `shaping Spirit of Imagin-
ation'; that gift which, it is claimed, nature gave him at his birth, a
powerful and innate capacity to transform his captivity into a
condition of liberation.80 This intense release from emotional dead-
lock inaugurates a deliverance from spiritual dead(wed)lock and
advances instead a phase of con®dent, self-authorised mobility: Ì
too will crown me with a Coronal'.81 Denying the basis of his earlier
belief in the passive role played by the mind (and indeed, the soul),
the poet proclaims his new-found faith in the creative potential of
the `shaping spirit' of imagination:
Ah! from the Soul itself must issue forth

A Light, a Glory, and a luminous Cloud
Enveloping the Earth!
And from the Soul itself must there be se[nt]
A sweet & potent Voice, of it's own Bir[th],
Of all sweet Sounds the Life & Element.82
Accordingly the poet imagines a superior `marriage' between mind

and nature which liberates him from his previous state of domestic
captivity (the marriage between two ùnequal minds, two discordant
wills') and his desperate condition as a tongueless (and hence, crea-
tively `¯ightless') poet/Philomel. Hence his text celebrates the
impregnating power of the mind itself: Ò Sara! we receive but what
we give, / And in our Life alone does Nature live. / Our's is her
Wedding Garment, our's her Shroud'.83
As the powers of the `spirit' and the poet's imagination merge into
one, Coleridge's poem presents a prophetic vision of regeneration
which resonates with the apocalyptical language of the Book of
Revelation. As `joy' is identi®ed as the dowry which emerges from
this imagined `wedlock', Coleridge endeavours to expound a purely
spiritual, unerotic embrace which transcends the conditions of the
physical, or indeed `sensual' world, and `satis®es' the condition of
Sara's continued physical absence:
JOY, Sara! is the Spirit & the Power,
That wedding Nature to us gives in Dower
A new Earth & new Heaven
Undreamt of by the Sensual & the Proud!
Joy is that strong Voice, Joy that luminous Cloud ±
We, we ourselves rejoice! 84
Interestingly, Coleridge's `Letter' establishes an important shift away

from the voyeuristic Book of Revelation (Ànd I saw the holy city,
new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as
a bride adorned for her husband')85 and denotes instead a persona-
lised account of the poet's own spiritual marriage as a reciprocation
of that between God/Israel and the New Jerusalem: À new Earth &
new Heaven / Undreamt of by the Sensual & the Proud!' 86
Although the poet's claims for a resolutely unerotic `spiritual'
embrace signi®es an unambiguous severance from the overtly erotic
tone of the Old Testament Song of Songs around which it revolves
(`My beloved is mine and I am his . . . Upon my bed by night I
sought him whom my soul loves'), nevertheless such a division sits
problematically amidst the distinctly physical paradigm of the
earlier stanzas.87 In an effort to complete this process of de-
erotisation, Sara is transformed into a maternal (rather than
sexualised) image of the Holy Spirit (`mother Dove'), who, with
wings `blessedly outspread', manifests the promise of divine possi-
bility, corresponding to the poet's imaginative potential. Further-
more, as the confessional `Letter to Sara Hutchinson' advocates the
poet's own `spiritual' liberation from emotional and domestic
slavery, the poetical ego emerges `victorious' with a newly formed
(de-eroticised) sense of self, ultimately freed (or rather, almost freed)
from any overt relationship with either the discourse of the spirit or
the language of abolitionism.
Thus Coleridge's poetical schema prescribes both a revival and
revision of spiritual autobiography established by radical dissenting
Protestantism, and reveals the subtle relationship between the emer-
gence of antislavery ideology and the development of the Romantic
genre. The discourse of the spirit, with its connotations of libera-
tionist ideology and identity con®guration, had a distinct in¯uence
upon a body of writing which we have come to know as `Romantic';
as well as the body of lesser-known work referred to as the slave
narratives. Yet, as I shall discuss below, although the Romantic poet,
William Wordsworth continued the liberationist and self-authorising
dialogue advanced by radical dissenting Protestantism, his poems
also paradoxically witnessed a deliberate severance from speci®c
tenets of abolitionism and overt manifestations of spiritual discourse.
wordsworth's spiritual autobiography

According to Abrams' Natural Supernaturalism, Wordsworth's Prelude
traced a harmonic secularisation of the Judaeo-Christian myth,
framed within the parameters of epic biography and thereby
described the poet's emergence as a self-elected prophet:
Wordsworth's is a secular theodicy . . . which translates the painful process
of Christian conversion and redemption into a painful process of self-
formation, crisis, and self-recognition, which culminates in a stage of self-
coherence, self-awareness, and assured power that is its own reward.88
Likewise, in his book, Wordsworth's `Natural Methodism' (1975), Richard
Brantley argued that the poem's emphasis upon self-mastery, spirit-
ual renewal and confessional introspection determined Wordsworth,
not only as a `de®nable moral and religious poet', but established the
connection between Wordsworth's work, Evangelical Anglicanism
and Evangelical nonconformism.89 In an expansion of the ideas put
forward by M. H. Abrams and Geoffrey Hartman, Brantley sug-
gested that Wordsworth's faith was strategically in¯uenced by the
broad and reverential evangelicalism of the `®rst' Evangelical, John
Wesley, and the Evangelical philanthropist and abolitionist, William
Wilberforce. Indeed, in the lengthy letter which praised Wilberforce's
Practical View of the Prevailing Religious System of Professed Christians
Contrasted with Real Christianity (1798) and which accompanied a
complimentary copy of the Lyrical Ballads, Wordsworth claimed to be
a `Fellow-labourer' with Wilberforce ìn the same Vineyard'.90
However, as I shall discuss below, although the poet's praise of
Wilberforce suggested an intimate liaison with both the discourse of
dissenting Protestantism and abolitionist ideology, Wordsworth's
relationship with these movements was deeply ambiguous.
Whilst at Cambridge, Wordsworth encountered concepts of evan-
gelicalism both formally and informally through the activities and
beliefs of his friends, Thomas Middleton (later Bishop of Calcutta),
John Gisbourne (a convert to Methodism), William Mathews (son of
a London Methodist preacher) and the fervent Evangelical ministry
of Charles Simeon (vicar of Holy Trinity during the 1780s).91 Like-
wise, the poet's appropriation and revision of spiritual discourse and
liberationist ideology may have been in¯uenced by Coleridge's plans
to develop the autobiographical style of the Methodist narratives
and the philanthropic interests and concerns of the poet's sister,
Dorothy. In fact, the nature of Dorothy's close friendship with the
parliamentary abolitionist, William Wilberforce, prompted Jane
Pollard, one of Dorothy's closest friends, to predict a likely marriage
between them, an hypothesis adamantly denied by Dorothy in her
self-deprecating reply of 30 April 1790:
Your way of accounting for my apparent absence of mind diverted me
exceedingly. I will set forward with assuring you that my heart is perfectly
disengaged and then endeavour to shew you how very improbable it is that
Mr W. would think of me . . . Mr W. would, were he ever to marry, look for
a Lady possessed of many more accomplishments than I can boast.92
During his stay at her uncle's parsonage, Wilberforce had

introduced Dorothy to a variety of `Great Awakening' texts,
including Philip Doddridge's Family Expositor (1739±1756).93 Words-
worth's discussions with Dorothy over the concerns of the `soul'
described in Francis Wrangham's Thirteen Practical Sermons: Founded
on Doddridge's `Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul' (1800) appear to
have had a pervasive in¯uence on his poetical compositions, in
terms of their emphasis upon intense self-examination, emotional
crisis and spiritual illumination.94 Indeed Wordsworth had met
Francis Wrangham c. 1795 when Basil Montagu, the bastard son of
the fourth Earl of Sandwich and friend to Godwin, had introduced
them. Dorothy's role as mediator between William and various
sociopolitical and dissenting discourses of the 1790s may be
con®rmed by her response to the defeat of Wilberforce's Bill
proposing the Abolition of the Slave Trade: Ì was indeed greatly
morti®ed on hearing of Mr W.'s bad success, every friend to
humanity must applaud his zeal and lament that it failed in its
effect'.95 In a letter of 8 May 1792, Dorothy persuasively and
determinedly urged Jane Pollard to participate in the antislavery
debate: Ì hope you were an immediate abolitionist and are angry
with the House of Commons for continuing the traf®c in human
¯esh so long as till 1796 but you will also rejoice that so much has
been done. I hate Mr Dundas'.96 Dorothy Wordsworth's transcrip-
tion of an extract from letter V of Newton's Authentic Narrative, was
made sometime between 1798±1799 and provides the source of
Book VI of Wordsworth's own Prelude of 1805: Ànd as I have read
of one by shipwreck thrown . . . who having brought to land a
single volume and no more' (VI, 160±5). Wordsworth was most
likely referring to the passage of the Authentic Narrative in which
Newton had described his ill-treatment at the hands of his master's
African mistress:
Though destitute of food and clothing, depressed to a degree beyond
common wretchedness, I could sometimes collect my mind to mathematical
studies. I had bought Barrow's Euclid at Plymouth . . . it was the only
volume I brought on shore; it was always with me, and I used to take it to
remote corners of the island by the seaside, and draw my diagrams with a
long stick upon the sand. Thus I often beguiled my sorrows, and almost
forgot my feeling.97
This `relationship' between Newton's and Wordsworth's texts, as
with those of Southey and Coleridge discussed above, suggests a
process of intertextuality between these authors. Given the captivity
motif which provides the overall framework for Wordsworth's
Prelude, it seems dif®cult to imagine that Wordsworth was unaware
of Newton's subsequent debates over slavery.98 Moreover, as I shall
elucidate, Wordsworth's poetical spiritual autobiography bears a
marked resemblance to the ®rst literary articulations by black
slaves.
In the 1798 draft version of the Prelude, the poet identi®ed the
natural and spiritual forces which he believed had shaped his early
years and nourished his poetical propensity. The `divine' visitations
of the spirit are hence translated, in Wordsworth's schema, into a
tableau of privileged election, identifying him as one `chosen' by the
`spirit of nature': `was it for this / That one, the fairest of all rivers,
loved / To blend his murmurs with my nurse's song . . . / And from
his fords and shallows, sent a voice / To intertwine my dreams?' 99
As the poet's salvation is presented in terms of his restored sense of
purpose, the opening lines of the 1805 version of the Prelude refer not
only to the concluding lines of Milton's Paradise Lost, but (as with the
slave narratives) to the Israelites' escape from Egyptian bondage
related in Exodus 13:3:
A captive greets thee, coming from a house
Of bondage, from yon city's walls set free,
A prison where he hath been long immured.
Now I am free, enfranchised and at large,
May ®x my habitation where I will . . .
Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty,
I look about, and should the guide I chuse
Be nothing better than a wandering cloud
I cannot miss my way.100
Wordsworth discerns these spiritual visitations as manifestations of
the `sweet breath' from heaven which, like Coleridge's ìntellectual
breeze', `saturates' his body with a `vital breeze'.101 Wesley's `dis-
course of the spirit' had, of course, similarly presented images
describing the `breath' of heaven and its blessed visitations, but
Wordsworth appropriates this spiritual framework in order to deter-
mine himself as a prophet, not only graced with the power of divine
tongues, but with the ability to transcribe such oral utterances into
text, the written word: `To the open ®elds I told / A prophesy; poetic
numbers came / Spontaneously, and clothed in priestly robe / My
spirit, thus singled out, as it might seem, / For holy services'.102 For
this reason, the `conviction of sin' episode (an essential tenet of the
`conversion narrative') presented in the Prelude identi®es the poet's
time at Cambridge as a period of transgression from which he must
be saved. As with Cowper's poem The Task, it describes an indul-
gence in erring dreams rather than visionary prophecy ± Ì was the
dreamer, they the dream; I roamed / Delighted through the motley
spectacle'.103 `Sealed' by the attributes of divine election, however,
such lapses fail, or so he claims, to in¯ict any permanent damage
upon his poetic destiny as à chosen son'; rather, they serve to
con®rm his conviction in his own holy powers.
Three further references in the Prelude complete the narrative of
the poet's spiritual deterioration: his encounter with the `Babel din'
(`barbarian and infernal ± `tis a dream Monstrous in colour, motion,
shape, sight, sound') of the city of London; his carefully disguised
`testimony' of sexual transgression (which revolves around his en-
counter with Annette Vallon and the conception of his illegitimate
child); and ®nally, his abandonment of spiritual truths by his
embracement of Godwin's philosophical rationalism, his ruthless
`probing' into one of `Nature's holiest places'.104 Yet despite these
`lapses', Wordsworth's ultimate self-restoration, disclosed in the ®nal
book of the 1805 Prelude, represents a magni®cent reworking of
dissenting Protestantism's model of apocalyptical sancti®cation ± a
witness of divine spirit (à spirit / Living in time and space, and far
diffused')105 which simultaneously obliterates and con®rms the
poet's identity:
For instantly a light upon the turf
Fell like a ¯ash. I looked about, and lo,
The moon stood naked in the heavens at height
Immense above my head, and on the shore
I found myself of a huge sea of mist,
. . . and it appeared to me
The perfect image of a mighty mind,
Of one that feeds upon in®nity,
That is exalted by an under-presence,
The sense of God, or whatsoe'er is dim
Or vast in its own being ± above all.106
In accordance with the autobiographical framework of the conver-
sion narratives, therefore, Wordsworth's discourse of spiritual
ecstasy, divine witness and ethereal illumination discloses a process
of self-engendered ecstasy that continues and revises the traditional
schema of spiritual salvation. Indeed, as with Coleridge's texts,
Wordsworth's Prelude advances a discourse of spiritual ùnder-pres-
ence' which illuminates and exalts, and more importantly, is both
`God-given' and self-initiated. In this way, the creation of matter
from the void described in the biblical account of the holy spirit in
Genesis, is envisaged by the poet as similarly informing his own
powers of creative imagination.107 As `the perfect image of the
mighty mind' reveals the union of God's and the poet's identity,
Wordsworth's `word' is ®gured within a syncretic collusion with that
Word which animates the universe. Accordingly, the power to
assimilate, transform and illuminate is described as having been
appropriated by the poet himself: Ìmagination! . . . / Like an
unfathered vapour, here that power, / In all the might of its
endowments, came / Athwart me'.108 Recovering from the self-
erasure, self-obliteration and spiritual excess typical of spiritual
autobiography, Wordsworth's text recognises not the power of the
divine, but the ethereal powers of the individual's mind over the
dimensions of space and time:
Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light,
Were all like workings of one mind, the features
Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree,
Characters of the great apocalypse,
The types and symbols of eternity,
Of ®rst, and last, and midst, and without end.109
Drawing upon the tenets of autobiography popularised by radical
dissenting Protestantism, Wordsworth's Prelude con®rms the inter-
relationship between Romanticism and the discourse of the spirit
advanced by the confessional narratives of conversion. As with
Coleridge's `conversation poems', Wordsworth's work maintains the
liberationist rhetoric of spiritual autobiography, yet reveals a discern-
ible severance from the abolitionist activities of the late eighteenth-
century transatlantic forum, especially in his address to the slave
insurrectionist, Toussaint L'Ouverture.
wordsworth and the slaves

On 2 February 1803, The Morning Post published the following sonnet
by Wordsworth, `To Toussaint L'Ouverture', the addressee of which
was one of the principal commanders of the violent slave uprising of
August 1791. During this insurrection (which was celebrated in
Southey's `To the Genius of Africa') approximately 20,000 former
slaves abandoned the slave estates of the French owned colony of St
Domingue, the largest and most productive slave colony in the
Caribbean:
TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men!
Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough
Within thy hearing, or thy head be now
Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den; ±
O miserable Chieftain! where and when
Wilt thou ®nd patience! Yet die not; do thou
Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow:
Though fallen thyself, never to rise again,
Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind
Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies;
There's not a breathing of the common wind
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and man's unconquerable mind.110
Toussaint L'Ouverture, whose pseudonym registered his belief in his
own self-appointment as òne who makes an opening' (that is, the
source of hiatus or ®ssure in the sociopolitical and linguistic order)
had seen himself as Napoleon Bonaparte's counterpart and had thus
referred to himself as `the First of the Blacks' in a letter addressed to
the latter, `the First of the Whites'.111 Wordsworth's reference to the
`Chieftain's' con®nement within some `deep dungeon's earless den'
alluded to the slave insurrectionist's detention within the icy dun-
geons of the Fortress of Joux in the Jura mountains where he died
after a ten-month imprisonment in April 1803. Toussaint's imprison-
ment was similarly described in Marcus Rainsford's Historical Account
of the Black Empire of Hayti: Comprehending a View of the Principal
Transactions in the Revolution in Saint Domingo (1805):
He who had been the benefactor of white people in a country where their
enormities had provoked hatred, whose power was never stained by
malevolence, and who was greater in his fall, than his enemies in their
assumed power, was kept in a damp and cheerless prison, without the comfort
of a single friend, without trial or even examination . . . This prison may be
considered the sepulture of Toussaint. France forgot awhile the habits of a
civilized nation, to entomb one she should have graced with a public
triumph; and England . . . should have guarded from violation the rights of humanity
in its person.112
Wordsworth's sonnet conclusively marks the translation of the
slaves' insurrectionist demands (and indeed, the discourse of aboli-
tionism) into Romanticism's claims for the liberationist powers of the
mind. It situates the attributes of the black military leader within a
schema that avoids any discussion of race and determines the
indiscernible spiritual workings of the natural elements as insepar-
able from the `natural' progression of man's ùnconquerable mind'.
The poet's homage to L'Ouverture, as one of those `who will not
forget thee', consequently presents the great revolutionary leader as
a manifestation of that expansionist, ìntellectual' power, the ùn-
conquerable mind', and as an individual now fused with the spiritual
`breathings of the common wind'. Likewise Wordsworth's conviction
that despite his defeat and imprisonment, the slave rebel should
retain a `cheerful brow', reinscribes Addison's belief in the power of
the imagination described in The Spectator of 21 June 1712:
By this Faculty [the imagination] a Man in a Dungeon is capable of
entertaining himself with Scenes and Landscapes more beautiful than any
that can be found in the whole Compass of Nature.113
Wordsworth's sonnet provides an important example of the
appropriation and concealment of abolitionist discourse contained
within Romantic poetry, via its gradual withdrawal from its original
focus, the great slave rebel, and its subsequent prioritisation of the
symbolic emblem of Romanticism ± the power of `man's unconquer-
able mind', the imagination. This withdrawal from a sociohistoric
®gure of non-western speci®city was similarly described in the Prelude
by the poet's account of his conscious detachment from the
momentum of the abolitionists' caravan `towards Liberty' which, by
the time of his return from France in 1792, had spread its in¯uence
across England: à contention . . . raised up / Against the traf®ckers
in Negro blood'.114 During his absence, public support for the
Society of the Abolition of the Slave Trade (founded in 1787) had
steadily gained momentum and although Wilberforce's Abolition
Bill was defeated in 1791, the `virtuous feeling' of the antislavery
campaign continued to escalate. In 1792, 519 petitions bearing
almost half a million signatures were presented to Parliament
demanding a cessation of the trade. The Bill providing for a gradual
abolition of the trade was ®nally passed in the House of Commons
by a narrow margin of 151 to 132 votes and in the House of Lords in
1807.115
Conversely, however, in his own autobiographical text, Words-
worth strategically endeavours to sever himself from any overt
identi®cation with the abolitionist movement: `For me that strife had
ne'er / fastened on my affections' (Book 10, lines 218±19). Indeed, he
suggests, somewhat dubiously, that the progressive force which had
inspired revolutionary France would similarly generate a `natural'
cessation of the slave trade:
My sorrow, having laid this faith to heart,
That if France prospered good men would not long
Pay fruitless worship to humanity,
And this most rotten branch of human shame
(Object, as seemed, of a super¯uous pains)
Would fall together with its parent tree.116
The poet's faith in `natural progression' underscores his allegiance
to gradual rather than immediate abolition and moreover, indicates
his reluctance to consider colonial insurrection as an appropriate
model of sociopolitical reform. Likewise, his reference to the
`natural' decay of Milton's `rotten tree' in Paradise Lost, offers an
inherently western epistemological response to the `problem' of the
trade, an image which attempts to conceal Britain's past role in
nurturing the trade and which fails to acknowledge the insurrec-
tionist efforts of the slaves themselves. By positing the French
Revolution as a precursor to rather than descendant of the libera-
tionist ideology promoted by abolitionists (and slaves), Wordsworth's
poem demonstrates a shift away from antislavery activities within the
colonies (the non-west) and focuses instead upon the revolutions of
the western world. This shift suggests a reluctance to consider the
parasitic relation between Great Britain and the colonies and
reverses the proposals set out in the pro-rebellion pamphlet by James
Stephen, Wilberforce's brother-in-law.117 Whereas the 1789 revolu-
tion in France, despite the poet's subsequent disappointment, could
still be celebrated as a praiseworthy event, references to the slave
insurrections in St Domingue (1791), Jamaica (1795±1796), Grenada
(1795±1797) and Virginia (1800) were carefully excluded from his text
and its subsequent revisions.
According to Mary Jacobus, Wordsworth's silence about the
material conditions upon which his poems and his culture were
ultimately founded, indicate the poet's endeavour to maintain the
`®ctive representation of the providentially self-shaped mind' within
the autobiographical project.118 This silence may also have been
connected to the colonial activities undertaken by the poet's own
relatives and the material bene®ts received by him from participants
in the slave trade. In a letter to Jane Pollard of 28 December 1788,
Dorothy Wordsworth noted that her brother, John, had embarked
on a trip to Barbados, a fact reiterated in her letter of 27 January
1789.119 Again, in January 1790, Dorothy noted John's involvement
in the famous East India Company and his impending voyage to
either America or the West Indies.120 In July 1795, it was agreed that
Wordsworth should become a non-paying tenant of Racedown
Lodge, a house in North Devon which was owned by the wealthy
Bristol merchant and sugar plantation owner, John Pretor Pinney.121
And according to Dorothy's letter of 1808, another of Wordsworth's
relatives, Henry Hutchinson, had been captured whilst travelling on
a slave ship.122 Not surprisingly therefore, Book 12 of Wordsworth's
Prelude dismissed Adam Smith's Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the
Wealth of Nations (1776) as a work of ùtter hollowness', an example of
`plans without thought' founded upon `false thought and false
philosophy'.123 His vehement rejection of Smith's critique of colonial
slavery on sociopolitical and economic terms suggests in particular
that his concealment of abolitionist discourse and his reluctance to
partake in abolitionist activities stemmed from a complex web of
personal loyalties and competitive creativity. The poet's resolute
detachment from abolitionism is even more intriguing when one
considers that during the composition and subsequent revisions of
the Prelude, Wordsworth had become close friends with both Cole-
ridge and Thomas Clarkson, the co-founder of the Abolition Society
and the author of The History of the Rise, Progress and Accomplishment of
the Abolition of the African Slave Trade (1808).124
This process of `self-erasure' from abolitionist dialogue is most
revealing in Wordsworth's sonnet, `To Thomas Clarkson, on the
Final Passing of the Bill for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, March
1807'. In this poem, the poet presents an egotistical trope of (personal
and collective) self-referencing which strategically endeavours to
override both Clarkson's success and the issue of slavery per se.125
Hence when Wordsworth refers to Clarkson's parliamentary suc-
cesses, the latter's achievements are conveniently mapped on to an
image of national victory which duplicates images of the poet's own
triumphant ascent, described in the (unpublished at this time)
Prelude: `CLARKSON! It was an obstinate hill to climb'.126 In
addition, the poet's response to Clarkson's concern for L'Ouverture's
relatives, the three black exiles ± Madame Christophe and her
daughters ± generates a satirical, explicitly racist version of Ben
Jonson's sonnet, `Queen and Huntress, Chaste and Fair' which
plays, condescendingly and immaturely, upon concepts of enlight-
enment and excessive black sexuality:
Queen and Negress chaste and fair!
Shine for Clarkson's pure delight
Negro Princess, Ebon Bright!
Hayti's shining Queen was made
To illumine Playford Hall
Bless it then with constant light
Negress excellently bright!127
Wordsworth's attitude towards abolitionism suggests a disturb-
ingly ambivalent stance, problematised by familial obligation and
in¯uenced by the poet's reluctance to accept antislavery ideologies
based on concepts of black (spiritual and physical) equality. For him,
the schemas of self-determination and ìmaginative' liberation pre-
sented within his own autobiographical texts were not interchange-
able with the slaves' demands for political emancipation; nor did he
envisage that England's responsibility to its subjects necessitated its
participation in any emancipatory role. In this respect, Wordsworth's
attitude towards slavery was very different from that of other ®rst
generation poets and artists, most especially William Blake.128
Nearly three decades after the composition of Wordsworth's sonnet
to Clarkson, in a letter to Benjamin Dockray (25 April 1833),
Wordsworth's conservatism was con®rmed by his criticism of the
British public's endeavours to bring about an end of the slave trade.
In this letter, the poet pledged his support for the rights and powers
of the plantocrats and for what he considered the permanent and
ùnalterable' nature of English law:
Fanaticism is the disease of these times as much or more than of any other;
fanaticism is set, as it has always been, whether moral, religious, or
political, upon attainment of its ends with disregard of the means. In this
question there are three parties, ± the slave, the slaveowner and the British
people . . . But by no means does it follow, from this . . . that the third party, the
people of England, who through their legislature have sanctioned and even
encouraged slavery, have a right to interfere for its destruction by a sweeping
measure, of which an equivalent to the owner makes no part. This course
appears to me unfeeling and unjust.129
In the same letter, the poet declared that although he believed that
the principle of slavery was indeed `monstrous', it was not, according
to him, ìn itself ' or ùnder all circumstances' to be deplored.
Wordsworth's attempted isolation from the abolition movement was
similarly indicated when, in a letter to Benjamin Haydon of 10
September 1840, he identi®ed demands for emancipation on socio-
economic (as Smith had done) rather than moral terms: `Tho' from
the ®rst I took a lively interest in the Abolition of Slavery . . . I was
too little a Man of business to have an active part in the Work'.130
william blake: spiritualism and abolitionism

William Blake's tripartite position as a key Romantic artist and poet,
as a perceptive critic of colonialist and slave ideology, and as an
adamant proponent of the value of the spiritual world con®rms his
stature in the development of spiritual discourse and abolitionist
polemic. Moreover, his expansion of the lineaments of physical,
psychological and sexual enslavement presents sophisticated explora-
tions of the complex con®gurations of individual and national
identity, sexuality and subjectivity. Born the son of a London shop-
keeper in November 1757, William Blake's initial apprenticeship as
an engraver to James Basire was followed by a studentship at the
Royal Academy, which began in October 1779 under the tutelage of
George Michael Moser, its keeper. In 1791, Joseph Johnson, patron
to William Cowper and publisher of Mary Scott's The Female Advocate
(1774), Stedman's Narrative, of a Five Year's Expedition (1796) (see
Chapter 4 below) and William Wordsworth's Descriptive Sketches
(1793), agreed to publish Mary Wollstonecraft's Original Stories from
Real Life: With Conversations Calculated to Regulate the Affections, and Form
the Mind to Truth and Goodness (1791), which included six illustrations
by Blake that Johnson had commissioned.131 In addition to Blake's
connection with the writings of Coleridge, Wordsworth and Woll-
stonecraft, it is probable that he had direct knowledge of the works
of African writers then living in London. As Lauren Henry and Paul
Edwards note, Blake was a good friend of the painter Richard
Cosway. Cosway's house servant was the former slave, Ottobah
Cugoano (a member of the Fanti people), who published his
abolitionist text, Thoughts and Sentiments on the Evil and Wicked Traf®c of
the Slavery and Commerce of the Human Species in 1787.132 It is possible
therefore, that Blake had direct contact with Cugoano, or even his
friend Gronniosaw (another former slave ± see Chapter 6 below), or
at least had been introduced to their narratives by the Cosway
household.133
In 1787, after the death of his brother, aged nineteen, Blake
claimed to see his brother's spirit rise to heaven, a spirit which he
later claimed revealed a method of illuminated printing to him in a
dream:
Thirteen years ago. I lost a brother & with his spirit I converse daily &
hourly in the Spirit. & See him in my remembrance in the regions of my
Imagination. I hear his advice & even now write from his Dictate ± Forgive
me for expressing to you my Enthusiasm which I wish all to partake of
Since it is to me a Source of Immortal Joy even in this world by it I am the
companion of Angels.134
Blake's elaboration upon the language of dissenting Protestantism,
as advanced by the evangelicals John Wesley and George White®eld,
was in part in¯uenced by the visionary accounts of the mystic
theologian Emmanuel Swedenborg (1688±1772). In 1789, Blake and
his wife Catherine became members of the Great Eastcheap Swe-
denborg Society in London. Inspired by Swedenborg's belief in the
spiritual symbolism of the material world and his corresponding
interpretation of the Bible, Blake's poetical and visual compositions
rede®ned the church as a form of spiritual wisdom. Likewise, his
letters and prophetic books presented explorations and illuminations
of symbolic insight predicated upon individualist mythology.135
According to Swedenborg, the world of spirits was neither a form of
heaven nor hell; rather it was à middle place or state between both;
for thither man ®rst comes after death'.136 Swedenborg had de®ned
the spiritual world as `the vision of God', a state which he believed
the biblical prophets had access to.137 Blake's annotations to Swe-
denborg's Wisdom of Angels Concerning Divine Love and Divine Wisdom,
attested to their mutual belief in spiritual wisdom:
[Swedenborg] Hence it may appear, that Man from a merely natural Idea
cannot comprehend that the Divine is every where, and yet not in Space;
and yet that Angels and Spirits clearly comprehend this; consequently that
Man also may, if so be he will admit something of Spiritual Light into his
Thought;
[Blake] Observe the distinction here between Natural & Spiritual as seen by Man . . .
[Swedenborg] The Negation of God constitutes Hell, and in the Christian
World the Negation of the Lord's Divinity.
[Blake] the Negation of the Poetic Genius.138
In his letter to Thomas Butts of 25 April 1803, Blake celebrated his
return to London from Felpham in Sussex, where he had taken up
residence in 1800, in terms of the spiritual freedom it provided: there
he believed he could pursue his visionary studies ùnannoyed',
converse with his friends in Eternity and `See Visions, Dream
Dreams, & prophecy & speak Parables unobserv'd & at liberty from
the Doubts of other Mortals'.139 On 11 December 1805 Blake wrote
in similarly spiritual terms to William Hayley, thanking him for his
support during what he described as `the Darkest Years that ever
Mortal Sufferd':
I speak of Spiritual Things. Not of Natural. Of Things known only to
Myself & to Spirits Good & Evil. but Not Known to Men on Earth. It is the
passage thro these Three Years that has brought me into my Present State.
& I know that if I had not been with You I must have Perish'd ± Those
Dangers are now Passed & I can see them beneath my feet It will not be
long before I shall be able to present the full history of my Spiritual
Sufferings to the Dwellers upon Earth. & of the Spiritual Victories obtaind
for me by my Friends.140
In addition to the prophetic writings of Swedenborg, the work of the
sixteenth-century German cobbler and mystic, Jacob Boehme, had
an even greater in¯uence upon Blake's thinking. In particular,
Boehme's work instigated Blake's subsequent reexamination and
critique of Swedenborg's doctrines, most especially his condem-
nation of Swedenborg's belief in predestination. Boehme's initial
in¯uence upon Blake can most easily be detected in two illustrated
prints created in 1788 ± `There is No Natural Religion' and Àll
Religions are One' ± texts which denounced the failings of the
established church and the invidious doctrine of rationalism, and
advocated instead a belief in the `Poetic or Prophetic character':
Conclusion. If it were not for the Poetic or Prophetic character, the
Philosophic & Experimental would soon be at the ratio of all things & stand
still, unable to do other than repeat the same dull round over again.
Application. He who sees the In®nite in all things sees God. He who sees
the Ratio only sees himself only.141
Blake's employment and systematic revision of the symbolic and

mystical schemas advocated by Swedenborg and Boehme, present
constantly shifting narratives which resist chronology and thereby
re¯ect eternal states of visionary transformation. At once unsettling,
episodic and disjunctive, Blake's prophetic writings demand an
active, visionary mode of perception and readership. This ambiguity
and instability re¯ect the subversive nature of Blake's work, as it
both veri®es and undermines preconceptions brought to it by its
readers.
Subtitled `The Voice of One Crying in the Wilderness', Blake's
Àll Religions are One' (1788) dissolved the boundaries between
religious and cultural differences and located the origins of spiritual
and prophetic illumination within man himself. According to Blake,
the Poetic Genius was the `True Man', the source of all religions:
`The Religions of all Nations are derived from each Nations different
reception of the Poetic Genius which is every where call'd the Spirit
of Prophecy'.142 For him, the doctrines of future reward prescribed
by natural religion (deism) and the orthodox church, not only
propounded a pernicious control of the individual but also impli-
cated a denial of the eternal, spiritual world. Blake's prophetic
stance hence pronounced a gospel of revolution which negated the
traditional Christian dichotomy between body and soul. Conse-
quently, Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (engraved c. 1790)
promoted a balanced dependence upon spiritual and physical
perception, a stance informed by Blake's belief in èternal delight' or
energy:
(1) Man has no Body distinct from his Soul for that calld Body is a portion
of Soul discernd by the ®ve Senses. the chief inlets of Soul in this age.
(2) Energy is the only life and is from the Body and Reason is the bound or
outward circumference of Energy.
(3) Energy is Eternal Delight.143
Fashioned ostensibly as a parody of Swedenborg's `Memorable
Relations' of his visions of Eternity, Blake's text preserved Sweden-
borg's concept of the Divine Humanity in which human form
®gured as a vital index of perfection. In an endeavour to restore
ènergy' within a world dominated by Reason, Blake employed the
®gure of Satan as the representative of ìnfernal wisdom' or energy:
Without Contraries is no progression. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason
and Energy, Love and Hate, are necessary to Human existence . . . God is
the passive that obeys Reason. Evil is the active springing from Energy.144
As this revised Satanic ®gure challenged the limits upon perception
de®ned by reason, the `Proverbs of Hell' reinstated the importance
of impulse, imaginative creativity, sensual passion and vision:
Prudence is a rich ugly maid courted by Incapacity.
He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence . . .
The lust of the goat is the bounty of God . . .
The nakedness of woman is the work of God.145
Furthermore, Blake's revision of Swedenborg's text traced the
historical and psychological moment of segregation from God's
existence and human experience (`Thus men forget that All deities
reside in the human breast') and called for a reintegration of the
divine with mankind.146 Man's inclination to restrain imaginative
vision and repress energy is seen by the poet as a contradiction of
the prophets of Israel's prioritisation of the Poetic Genius as the `®rst
principle'. According to Blake, the restoration of in®nity `will come
to pass by an improvement of sensual enjoyment', and it was this co-
alignment of the sensual and the spiritual which distinguished
Blake's work from the restrictions enforced by some of Wesley's
successors.147 As a text thoroughly opposed to the limitations of
rationalism and empirical philosophy, Blake's Marriage of Heaven and
Hell presented a gospel of unorthodox revolution, intense spirituality
and imaginative impulse which identi®ed the mind as an active
spiritual agent, an expansive agent of consciousness of individuality
which struggled against the oppressed or sealed condition of the
rational man.
In the prophetic text, Jerusalem: the Emanation of the Giant Albion
(printed in 1804), the poet recounts the development of the human
consciousness from what he calls Èternal Death' (or what we call
`life') to authentic life in Eternity: Òf the Sleep of Ulro! and of the
passage through Eternal Death! and of the awaking to Eternal
Life'.148 Having rejected the imaginative realm signi®ed by Jeru-
salem (the emanation of Albion), Albion falls into a spiritual stupor.
Los, the personi®cation of the imaginative spirit, struggles to resist
Albion's perverted vision, yet he becomes af¯icted by the imbalance
in Albion and is separated from his emanation, Enitharmon. 149
Blake's poem locates the various efforts to reunite Albion with
Jerusalem within a context of repressive moralistic and religious
epistemologies: `Jerusalem replied. I am an outcast: Albion is dead! I
am left to the trampling foot & the spurning heel! A Harlot I am
calld'.150 Rebellion, embodied by the ®gures of Los and Vala,
incorporates a declaration of self-assertion and revolt against forms
of enslavement prescribed by the dominant culture: Ì know of no
other Christianity and no other Gospel than the liberty both of body
& mind to exercise the Divine Arts of Imagination'.151 In Plate 52
(subtitled `To the Deists') of this complex but beautiful poem, the
true pathway towards spiritual enlightenment, taken by the Metho-
dists and the poet himself, is juxtaposed with the repressive regimes
advocated by Voltaire and Rousseau:
Deism, is the Worship of the God of this World by the means of what you
call Natural Religion and Natural Philosophy, and of Natural Morality or
Self-Righteousness, the Sel®sh Virtues of the Natural Heart. This was the
Religion of the Pharisees who murderd Jesus. Deism is the same & ends in
the same. Voltaire Rousseau Gibbon Hume. charge the Spiritually
Religious with Hypocrisy! but how a Monk or a Methodist either, can be a
Hypocrite: I cannot conceive . . . The Glory of Christianity is, To Conquer
by Forgiveness. All the Destruction therefore, in Christian Europe has
arisen from Deism, which is Natural Religion.152
Blake's defence of White®eld in the section entitled `To the Deists' at
the beginning of Chapter 3 of Jerusalem (`Foote in calling White®eld,
Hypocrite: was himself one: for White®eld pretended not to be
holier than others') is followed by a description of the exploitation of
human resources within the market economy reminiscent of
accounts detailing the slaves' transportation on to slave ships ± `We
were carried away in 100s from London. . . in ships clos'd up'.153
Calling for the transformative and inspirational power which Los
possesses and which the poet believes will achieve a restoration of
Albion: `Teach me, O Holy Spirit, the Testimony of Jesus', the
concluding chapter of Jerusalem addresses those Christians who have
rejected the tyrannies of institutional and natural religion and
celebrates Albion's forthcoming spiritual awakening:
Awake! Awake Jerusalem! O lovely Emanation of Albion
Awake and overspread all Nations as in Ancient Time
For lo! the Night of Death is past and the Eternal Day
Appears upon our hills.154
Blake's poem `The Little Black Boy' in Songs of Innocence and
Experience, composed as early as 1789 (the same year that he joined
the Swedenborg Society) confronts colonial ideology and cultural
difference within a simple yet effective spiritual framework:
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white;
White as an angel is the English child:
But I am black as if bereav'd of light . . .
Thus did my mother say and kissed me,
And thus I say to the little English boy.
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy:
I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear,
To lean in joy upon our fathers knee.
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him and will then love me.155
By drawing parallels between black and white, lamb and Christ,
Blake's poem counters pro-slavery discourse and introduces a
poignant moment between mother and son, tenderness alongside a
clear articulation of racial and spiritual equality. Anne Mellor has
argued that Blake's poem af®rms the ideological construction of the
African as one who bene®ts from Christianity, but as his antagonistic
relationship with institutionalised religion con®rms, Blake's concept
of Christianity is radically individual. 156
Between 1788 and 1789, John Caspar Lavater, the lifelong friend
of Henri Fuseli, published his Essays on Physiognomy, a work which
examined the relationship between cranial proportion and character.
One edition of Lavater's work contained four plates which were
engraved by Blake and attest to an encounter with the science of
physiognomy which must have challenged Blake's belief in racial
equality. Less than a year later, Blake engraved sixteen plates for
John Stedman's Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition (1790), described in
Chapter 4 below. Blake's engravings included disturbing illustrations
of colonial and slave ideology, such as his Èxecution of Breaking on
the Rack' and The Flagellation of a Female Samboe Slave', which
sought to replace typical depictions of black inferiority and sexual
excess with unsettling representations of sufferings endured under
the command of white masters. Given the sociopolitical context of
the time and the fact that Stedman's text does not negate the
necessity of the slave trade nor criticise the violent suppression of a
slave insurrection in Dutch Guiana, Blake's illustrations were radi-
cally uncompromising. Designed to shock and educate, the inten-
tions behind Blake's visual supplements to and departures from
Stedman's Narrative were clearly presented at a time when other
abolitionist texts remained cautious and circumspect in their
approach. As Richard and Sally Price have noted, during the mid-
1790s the relationship between Stedman and Blake was fairly close:
the two corresponded, dined and sent gifts to each other fre-
quently.157 Yet Stedman adamantly refused to sign abolition peti-
tions and when he left for Holland he did not free his personal slave
but transferred him to another owner.158 Conversely, Blake's ®nan-
cial contribution of £10 (approximately £1000 in today's terms),
despite his impecuniosity, to the London Abolition Society demon-
strated his antipathy toward slave ideology. Under Stedman's in-
structions, Blake engraved an emblematic representation of the
interdependence between Africa, America and Europe. In this
revised version of the `Three Graces', entitled Èurope Supported by
Africa and America', Europe, a white female decorated in pearls,
stands supported by her colonially and racially oppressed `sisters',
the enslaved African and the marginalised native American. In
Blake's hands, the symbol of harmonious colonial venture and
intercultural exchange becomes a sinister emblem of debasement
and exclusion.159
Signi®cantly in¯uenced by Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of
the Rights of Woman published the previous year (see above), Blake's
Visions of the Daughters of Albion (1793) questions the permanency of
existing power structures. In its attack against the evils of slavery,
sexual inequality, colonial expansionism and repressive cults of
virginity, Blake's poem examines the conditions of psychological,
sexual and racial enslavement prescribed by the ideologies and
practices of mystery, idolatry and cultural superiority: `Stampt with
my signet are the swarthy children of the sun: / They are obedient,
they resist not, they obey the scourge'.160 As David Erdman notes,
love and slavery prove to be the `two poles' guiding the axis of the
poem.161 The unresolved debate between Oothoon, Theotormon
and Bromion provides a poetic counterpart to the parliamentary and
editorial debates of 1789±1793 which centred upon the Bill for the
Abolition of the Slave Trade. Like those gradual reformists who
deplored the slave trade but could not subscribe to an open
condemnation of slavery itself, Theotormon remains locked in a
psychological impasse. On the poem's frontispiece, Oothoon (the
representative of liberty ± `the soft soul of America') is enveloped by
the restraining manacles of Bromion, rapist and slaver, whilst
Theotormon's `jealous waters' form a chain `round the adulterate
pair, bound back to back in Bromion's caves':
The voice of slaves beneath the sun, and children bought with money.
That shiver in religious caves beneath the burning ®res
Of lust, that belch incessant from the summits of the earth
Oothoon weeps not: she cannot weep! her tears are locked up;
But she can howl incessant writhing her soft snowy limbs.162
In Plate 4 Oothoon soars upwards but is held down by a chain as
Theotormon sits rigidly, his hands over his face, `shut up in cold
despair', degraded by his misguided ethics:
The moment of desire! the moment of desire! The virgin
That pines for man; shall awaken her womb to enormous joys
In the secret shadows of her chamber; the youth shut up from
The lustful joy. shall forget to generate. & create an amorous image
In the shadows of his curtains and in the folds of his silent pillow.163
Blake's rendition of Theotormon's psychological impasse exposes
one of the most signi®cant ¯aws in the British constitution. In the
light of French revolutionary idealism, the defeat of the Bill in
Parliament under pressure from the anti-Jacobin attacks staged by
Edmund Burke, Lord Abingdon and various slave agents, deter-
mined Britain's continuing involvement in colonial and racial slavery
at a deplorable and fundamentally regressive stage. Likewise, the
announcement in the London Chronicle of February 2, 1792 which
disassociated the Abolition Society from any desire to bring about
`the Emancipation of the Negroes in the British Colonies' and
claimed instead that the Society sought merely to bring an end to
the `trade of the slaves', highlighted the paralysis at the heart of
Britain's parliamentary and `moral' centre. As a fused embodiment
of America, Africa and Europe, Oothoon coalesces with, yet also
departs from the ideological parameters prescribed by Wollstone-
craft and Stedman. Theotormon's love for the `gentle' Oothoon
appears to be a coded reference to Stedman's account of his love for
the slave `Joanna'.164 However, the fact that Oothoon is not freed,
nor able to articulate her anger, nor transform her visions into
realities suggests that Blake was presenting an intertextual critique of
Wollstonecraft's rationalised arguments for female equality. For
Blake, colonial ideology, possessive morality and sexual oppression
were all fundamental forms of the pernicious enslavement which
corrupted the visionary potential of England.165
Blake's concern with physical and spiritual enslavement is thus
developed into a sophisticated exploration of psychological enslave-
ment and repression. His extension of the spiritual legacy of radical
dissenting Protestantism is reworked on his own terms to provide an
all-embracing philosophy of redemption and equality for mankind.
Advocating his belief in the potential harmony of mind, body and
spirit within all individuals, Blake propounds his conviction in man's
ability to experience imaginative vision and achieve eternal life.
With radical and absolute egalitarianism, Blake celebrates a state of
being in which the evils of cultural difference, based on the injustices
of racism, the subordination of women and the pernicious effects of
materialism and power abuse, are rejected. As a political activist,
unafraid to illustrate the brutality and degradation endured by
slaves, as a free thinker and as a radical visionary, Blake avoids the
strictures of moral and Christian polemic, beyond the con®nes of
material wealth and concepts of ownership towards a state of intense
spiritualism. Unfettered by religious doctrine or utilitarian ethics,
Blake occupies a crucial position within the development of the
discourse of the spirit. Yet Blake's concern with the spiritual is not at
the expense of the physical ± as his sensual celebration of the human
body demonstrates. Whilst Blake's rejection of eighteenth-century
rationalist and empiricist epistemology distinguishes him from the
line of argument propounded by Mary Wollstonecraft, his artistic
and poetic enjoyment of the physical links his work with that of the
Scotsman, John Stedman (discussed below).
In their complex interaction with the language of radical dis-
senting Protestantism and abolitionist demands prevalent in
England at the time, the poetical works by Coleridge, Wordsworth
and Blake reveal the transient and protean nature of spiritual
discourse and its compelling dynamics of (self-)liberation from
servitude. A similar appropriation and transformation of this mer-
curial discourse was likewise articulated both within the narratives
by ex-slaves, published contemporaneously during the late
eighteenth and early nineteenth century, and within Stedman's semi-
autobiographical account of the insurrectionist negroes in Surinam.
Chronologically, Stedman's Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition against
the Revolted Negroes of Surinam (1790) predates some of the earlier work
by the Romantic poets examined above. Its place within this
discussion re¯ects its signi®cant departure from traditional forms of
spiritual autobiography and its status as a pivotal text which
describes an important translation of the discourse of the spirit (and
indeed, the corresponding confessional genre) into a schema of
physical, rather than purely spiritual, redemption. In so doing,
Stedman's text corresponds to some of the most important strategic
motives behind the slave narratives ± emancipation from slavery and
liberation from theories of racial difference and inferiority, which
had been used to justify and continue the abhorrent trade. In its
account of morganatic marriage Stedman's text presents an interest-
ing parallel with Blake's ideas of sexual freedom, yet extends this to
provide an enigmatic autobiographical form of colonial narrative
which demonstrates the problematics involved in interracial (sexual)
encounters between European men and African women. As a
consequence, Stedman's text offers a signi®cant narrative of cross-
cultural contact and thereby provides a ®tting precursor to the
discussion in the subsequent chapters of this book of the `creolised'
schema contained within the slave narratives and the legislative
prohibitions of miscegenation in the eighteenth century.
chapter four
Cross-cultural contact: John Stedman,

Thomas Jefferson and the slaves
john stedman's redemption and the dynamics of

miscegenation
During the period of composition of the Visions of the Daughters of
Albion (1793), William Blake was approached by the publisher Joseph
Johnson and asked to supply engravings for a work that was to be
published as Narrative, of a Five Years' Expedition, Against the Revolted
Negroes of Surinam, in Guiana, on the Wild Coast of South America; From the
Year 1772, to 1777 (1796), an enigmatic combination of botanical
description, military stories, adventure and interracial love based on
an original 1790 manuscript by Captain John Gabriel Stedman. 1 In
the forty years following its publication, Stedman's text was trans-
lated into German (1797), French (1798), Dutch (1799), Swedish
(1800) and Italian (1818) and provided the source for the 1824 version
of the story Joanna or the Female Slave.2 According to his diary,
Stedman began working on his Narrative on 15 June 1778, just one
year after returning from military service with the Scots brigade in
Surinam (a Dutch colony since 1667), and only a few days following
a request from Sir George Strickland for an account of his voyage.3
Joseph Johnson had agreed to pay Stedman £500 for the manuscript
and in 1791 employed engravers including William Blake, Bartolozzi,
Holloway and Benedetti to reproduce and work on Stedman's own
drawings and watercolours.4 Following the public reaction to the
number of fatalities in the 1791 slave rebellion in St Domingue led by
Toussaint L'Ouverture, in 1794 Johnson employed William Thomson
to `rework' Stedman's original copy of the 865-page manuscript,
which was published in 1796. Stedman received his ®rst glimpse of
this `revised' version in May 1795. Outraged by the extent of
èditorial' intervention, he determined to restore the original tone of
125
his narrative, a project which he worked on up until his death two
years later.5
Stedman's diary makes it clear that what emerged as the ®rst
edition of 1796 was an awkward compromise. The scope of Thom-
son's editorial transformations ranged from minor rephrasing to
substantial alterations of Stedman's views on race, slavery and social
justice. Signi®cant aspects of his Surinam experiences were obliter-
ated, including passages describing his sexual relationships with
female slaves, and his provocative critiques, such as his discussion on
the chastity of religious orders, were similarly amended. Passages
relating to the sadistic behaviour of plantation mistresses towards
slaves (an aspect silenced in many of the slave narratives) and the
cruelty and sexual power-relations between European masters and
African women were similarly deleted. Most importantly, the dis-
closure of the relationships which developed between Stedman, his
mulatto lover, Joanna, and other female slaves were more often than
not completely omitted, leaving little correspondence between the
published text and the explicit (sexual) entries contained within his
unpublished Surinam diaries:
sleep at Mr. Lolkens . . . I f±k one of his negro maids (9 Feb. 1773) . . .
a negro woman offers me the use of her daughter, while here, for a
sertain[sic] soom[.] we dont agre[e] about the price (22 Feb. 1773) . . .
soop in me room with two mallato girls (25 Feb. 1773) . . .
BÐÐÐe comes to me and stays the whole night (26 Mar. 1773) . . .
BÐÐe sleeps with me (13 Apr. 1773) . . .
JÐÐÐa comes to stay with me (23 Apr. 1773).6
Born in 1744, Stedman, a Scotsman, had inherited his father's
commission as an of®cer in the Scots Brigade of the Dutch Army. In
1773 Stedman was sent out to Surinam as a volunteer in a military
expedition, a mission organised by the Dutch government as a
response to the colonial crisis created there by mass slave defections
and the continuing wars between plantation owners and the maroon
societies of the Saramakas and the Djukas. 7 When the rebel maroons
eventually abandoned the country for French Guiana in 1778,
European `victory' was seriously undermined by the enormously
high (80 per cent) mortality rate amongst soldiers, occasioned by a
combination of military incompetence and rampant disease. Sted-
man's Narrative of Five Years Expedition presented a critical exposure of
the ineffectual jungle warfare used against the maroons, interspersed
with botanical descriptions of the fauna and ¯ora native to Surinam.
Cross-cultural contact 127
In addition, Stedman's text incorporated a narrative of `salvation'
tempered by an underlying discourse of colonial desire, abolition
and the dynamics of miscegenation.
As the Preface to the original 1790 manuscript suggests, Stedman,
although neither an overt radical republican nor an abolitionist
sympathiser, determined to publish a narrative of his experiences
regardless of the offence its lack of scienti®c, structural and cultural
orthodoxy and moral decorum would cause:
But boldly will I ®rst plead my Cause & after that like the dying Indian
Submit to my doom without a Shrink or a Complaint ± To begin then ± I
am going to be told that my Narrative besides its not being interesting to
Great Britain has neither stile, orthography, order, or Connection ± Patcht
up with super¯uous Quotations ± Descriptions of Animals without so much
as proper names ± Tri¯es ± Cruelties ± Bombast &c. to all which
Accusations I partly plead Guilty . . . Next that some of my Paintings are
rather un®nish'd ± That my plants fully prove I am nothing of a Botanist.8
To the anticipated criticism that `the history of Joanna deserves no

place at all in this Narrative', Stedman replied with characteristic
dismissiveness: `DÐÐm order, DÐÐm matter of fact, DÐÐm
ev'rything I'm above you all'.9 However, whereas his text evokes a
sensitive empathy with the plight of the enslaved Africans, a set of
`living automatons . . . a resurrection of skin and bones', the sight of
which ®lls him with humiliation, Stedman's Narrative of Five Years'
Expedition is not unambiguously abolitionist. Rather, Stedman's text
oscillates tenuously between his concern for the negro slaves, Ì love
the African Negroes', and the ideological forces determining his
presence in Surinam as a Scots Brigade lieutenant sent to quell the
insurrection and prevent `general massacre'.10 Hence throughout his
account, a touching distress for those miserable slaves, `wretches
who deservedly most attracted my Pity' and who were driven `like
Oxen with a Stick' is revealed. Similarly his admiration for the
African slaves' intellectual abilities is indicated by his praise of the
African slave, Phillis Wheatley's poetical genius and the inclusion of
an extract from her poem, `Thoughts On Imagination'.11 At other
times, Stedman's narrative appears anti-abolitionist in its concern
for the planters and its support of the slave trade itself ± `This trade,
or buying of negroe Slaves, is not so bad a thing as some try to support . . .
It is a perfect truth, that from a private evil, is derived a general
good'.12
Besides I cannot help thinking it ungenerous thus wishing to deprive the
West India Planters of their Property, by a Sudden abolition of the Slave
Trade, who after their many hazards, and their loss of health, Wealth, and
time, have no other Method of procuring a Subsistence for their families.13
Indeed, Stedman declared he was as much opposed to men such as
Thomas Clarkson, the co-founder of the Society for Abolition, as
those slaveholders who would `preserve the most unjust and diabo-
lical barbarity' for the sake of drinking rum.14 Interestingly, his
antagonism towards ®gures such as Clarkson appears to have
stemmed from his intolerance of Europe's resolute, yet hypocritical,
mission to convert the Africans to Christianity:
And as to theyr becoming Christians, they may / a few of them Excepted/ have a
Chance of becoming a parcel of canting Hypocritical Rascals, like too many of theyr
protecttors, and use it as a Cloak to impose upon the ignorant, but will
never chuse to know more of that Sacred Institution, than they already do of
Snow.15
Stedman's text acknowledges the potential incompatibility or
disjuncture between the colonialists' advancement of Christian
ideology and the slaves' maintenance of African culture and their
continued observance of African ceremonies and libations, most
especially the rituals of spirit possession performed by obeahs and
female prophets:
Amongst them [the Sibils] who deal in Oracles, these Sage Matrons
Dancing And Whirling Round in the Middle of an Audience, till Absolutely
they froath at the mouth And drop down in the middle of them; Whatever
She says to be done during this ®t of Madness is Sacredly Performed by the
Surrounding Multitude, which makes these meetings Exceedingly danger-
ous Amongst the Slaves, who are often told to murder their Masters or
Desert to The Woods, & on which account the Excessive of this piece of
Fanatisim, is forbid in the Colony of Surinam on Pain of the Most
Rigourous Punishment, Yet it is often Put in Execution in Private Places,
And Verry Commen Amongst the Owca, & Sarameca Negroes.16
His Narrative therefore presents a radical challenge to the `conversion'
enterprise inherent within most abolitionist activities and, more
daringly, advocates the intrinsic value of the Africans' own belief
systems: `Their [the Africans] own religion being much more
Commodious, and not so much divested of Common Sence [sic] as
numberless Stupid Europeans imagine'.17 Stedman's editor replaced
statements which vindicated the African's racial and moral equality,
with sensationalist propaganda premised on the threatening spectre
of potential slave insurrections and excessive violence: Ìt must be
observed that LIBERTY, nay even too much leanity, when suddenly
granted to illiterate and unprincipled men, must be to all parties
dangerous, if not pernicious'.18 This process of textual erasure and
editorial intervention similarly corresponded to those forces to which
the slaves' narratives were subjected.
In terms of its relationship with the language of radical dissenting
Protestantism, the framework of spiritual autobiography in Stedman's
text of 1790 is so dramatically revised that it is scarcely recognisable.
Yet Stedman's narrative is a narrative of deliverance, albeit an
unorthodox one; for his text describes not a deliverance from sin into
the grace of God, but a release into sexual redemption via the mulatto
female slave, Joanna: `Never two People were more Completely
happy ± Not Adam and Eve in Paradise'. The centre of Stedman's
text presented a personalised, and indeed, sexualised account of the
author's concern for an individual, that Ùnfortunate Mulatto Maid'.
For him, she is as a `forsaken plant / now exposed to every rude blast
without protection', and it is her sufferings ± rather than his own ±
which generate his state of spiritual dejection and emotional turmoil
characteristic of confessional narratives: `My Spirits were deprest,
and in the Space of twenty-four hours I was very ill indeed'.19
Stedman's account of his encounter at the beginning of his
expedition with the black mistress at Mr Lolken's house provides an
amusing paradigm of the author's naivety, in terms of his lack of
sexual experience and his immature understanding of his own role
within the colonial forum. He claims, retrospectively, that his
encounter with Mr Lolken's mistress may serve (as in George
Vason's Authentic Narrative) as an invaluable example to those young
Europeans, who in their close contact with young black females on
the plantation estates, may `not always escape with impunity'. Once
Stedman has described his initiation into the licentious world of
plantation society ±
I was fatigued and longed for some rest ± thus made a signal that I wanted
to sleep ± but here I was truly brought into great Distress ± for she [Mr
Lolkens' female slave] again misunderstanding me had the unaccountable
assurance to give me such a hearty kiss ± as had made my Nose as ¯at as
her own.20
± a feigned sense of etiquette prompts him to `draw a Sable Curtain'

over the details of this particular sexual encounter, hence making the
act of miscegenation itself almost unutterable.21 When Stedman
meets the ®fteen-year-old mulatto slave, Joanna, he identi®es her as
the product of a liaison between a `respectable Gentleman' and a slave
woman. This appears to endorse Joanna's status in terms of her
(partial) racial compatibility. Given the socioeconomic context of
Surinam at the time, however, the dynamics behind the girl's
miscegenetic parentage are as problematic as Stedman's own rela-
tionship with Joanna, and indeed, with Surinam itself.22 In his
Philosophical and Political History (1776), Guillame Raynal de®ned white
males' preference for black women, a condition `so depraved in the
European', as a consequence of the `nature of the climate':
The torrid zone irresistibly excites men to the pleasures of love; the facility
of gratifying this insurmountable inclination without restraint, and without
trouble of long pursuit; from a certain captivating attraction of beauty,
discoverable in black women, as soon as custom hath once reconciled the
eye to their colour.23
As Mary Louise Pratt notes, Stedman's transracial love affair with
Joanna is a `romantic transformation of a particular form of colonial
sexual exploitation' in which Europeans bought local women to
serve as sexual and domestic partners during their stay in the
colonies.24 However Stedman's desire for Joanna is as much pre-
mised upon her (sexual) accessibility (as a slave woman) as it is upon
her non-availability (in that she belongs to another master), a
situation symptomatic of the master/mistress/slave triangle itself:
My ears being Stund with the Clang of the Whip and the dismal Yels of the
wretched Negroes on whom it was in¯icted . . . considering that this might
one day be the fate of the Unfortunate Mulatto Maid . . . should she
chance to fall in the hands of a Tirrannical Master or Mistress.25
Such a dichotomy is endorsed by the ambiguous nature of Joanna's
mulatto identity, a complexity which posits a continuum of both
African and European physical traits and which by inference
indicates her synchronous assimilation to and departure from Euro-
pean ideologies. She is therefore, `rather more than middle Size'
whilst her face is `full of native Modesty'; her eyes are `black as
Ebony' yet her cheeks `glow in spite of her olive Complexion'; her
lips are a `little prominent', and as a `Shaul of ®nest Indian Muslin
gracefully' reveals a part of her `lovely bosom', she shines with a
`double lustre', a duplicity which exposes her position on the interface
between European and African aesthetics.26
Against the backdrop of war-besieged Surinam, there is a de®nite
sense that Stedman is particularly conscious of the role he is playing
in this luxuriously fecund `remake' of Milton's Paradise Lost, a text
with which Blake and Wordsworth (in their respective renditions of
the fall and concepts of innocence and experience) also poetically
engaged.27 As he and Joanna, `free like the roes in the forest and
disentangled from every care and fashion' breathe the `purest Ether'
and refresh their limbs in `Cooling limpid Streams', their physical
ecstasy appears to transcend and defy the parameters of the colonial
dictum: `Health and Vigour were now again my portion, while my
Mulatto ¯ourished in youth and beauty'. This textual emphasis upon
Surinam's abundant fertility discretely corresponds to the commer-
cial objectives of the colonial project. Hence, whereas Stedman's
Narrative of Five Years Expedition portrays a trope of unrestrained
sexual liberty, Joanna herself, like Annette in the Prelude is a shadowy,
inarticulate, bodily presence, notably silenced by the male author's
autobiography of deliverance. The comparison between Joanna and
Stedman in Surinam and Adam and Eve in Paradise presents an
unconscious, or indeed, suppressed recognition of the necessarily
transient (and inappropriate) nature of such a relationship, and the
impending effect of colonial dictates upon the dynamics of unre-
strained sexual freedom and cross-cultural contact.
According to the Narrative of Five Years Expedition, the couple
`married' in Surinam because Joanna was ùnwilling' to accompany
Stedman back to England. Yet Stedman could not have been
ignorant of the fact that his relationship with Joanna made a
mockery of the very struggles he had been sent out to resolve. On
the one hand, his relationship with Joanna ful®ls an essential
requirement of the colonial adventure in its physical manifestation of
colonial expansion as Europe's `redemptive' mission is inscribed on
to the body of Joanna herself. On the other hand, however,
Stedman's sexual penetration of those painstakingly constructed
barriers of cultural/racial difference reciprocates the challenge
posed by the rebellious Surinanese maroon societies to such arti®cial
cultural boundaries. In Milton's epic, Adam and Eve retreat from
the paradisiacal garden `hand in hand', yet Stedman's narrative
describes its author's solitary withdrawal from the garden of Eden
and situates his subsequent quest for a `paradise regained' within that
European world he had previously left behind. For Mary Louise
Pratt, Stedman's relationship with Joanna is one of `romantic love
rather than ®lial servitude': it is a relationship which enacts a `wilful
submission of the colonised' and therefore demonstrates the possi-
bility of `cultural harmony through romance'.28 Conversely,
however, Stedman's narrative demonstrates the process by which
cultural integration in its most explicit form ± i.e. miscegenation ± is
refused permanence, even when articulated within the paradigm of
`®ctionalised' autobiography. Manifestations of miscegenation, cross-
cultural contact, and hybridity (symbolised by the existence of their
`mutant', bastard son, Johnny) are carefully marginalised; redeter-
mined as sites existing beyond the ®ctional and therefore unspeak-
able. Joanna and her son must remain in Surinam in order that
Stedman may be reintegrated with his former cultural self, via his
legally and culturally sanctioned marriage in England.
Stedman's return to England and his subsequent marriage hence
portray the author's ultimate loyalty to both his nation and his
employers. As his former transgressions of both cultural and racial
barriers succumb to national duty, his allegiance to the coloniser
(Holland) and his rejection of the colonised ( Joanna/Surinam) is
con®rmed. In a sense, the extension of Stedman's earlier `self ' via
geographical exploration and sexualised cross-cultural contact
enacts the old meaning of the term `revolution': that is, the re-
articulation of European hegemony rather than its overthrow. And
as if that were not enough, the `news' of Joanna's and Johnny's
mysterious deaths satis®es an essential structural requirement by
effectively silencing any abolitionist and emancipatory dialogue.
Their èrasure' enables a literal concealment of the only remaining
evidence of the miscegenetic act and facilitates the author's reinte-
gration/salvation upon culturally acceptable terms:
From Mr. Gourlay in August did I receive the melancholy tidings which
pierc'd me to the Very Soul that on the Fatal 5 day of Last November / a
day ever Remarkable for treason in the Annals of this Island / this virtuous
young Creature had died by poison, administered by the hand of Jealousy &
Envy on Account of her prosperity & the marks of distinction, which her
Superior merit so Justly Attracted from the Respectable part of Mankind ±
While others insisted that her death was the Consequence of a Broken
heart.29
Such an èrasure' endorses a trope of cultural amnesia, or severance
from the dynamics of cultural miscegenation, similarly evaded by the
Romantic texts. The above lines witness a return of the `conversion'
trope of radical dissenting Protestantism, as Stedman's narrative of
the negroes' revolt becomes an autobiographical confession describ-
ing his own subversive act of sexual/cultural betrayal and his
subsequent salvation via a `muted' dialogue of repentance. Joanna's
death, on the anniversary of Guy Fawkes' failed insurrection,
symbolically con®rms both the effacement and negation of Sted-
man's own act of (cultural) treason.
Like the above-mentioned poetic schemas of Coleridge's and
Wordsworth's texts, Stedman's Narrative represents a signi®cant
departure from overtly abolitionist discourse. However, it radically
deviates from the parameters of the Romantic poets' later work in its
graphic disclosure of the highly ambiguous (and physical) inter-
relationship between colonials and their colonised òthers'. Sted-
man's Narrative thus heralds the emergence of a paradigm of spiritual
autobiography infused with the dynamics of miscegenation and
cross-cultural contact. As such, his text provides a ®tting precursor
to an analysis of the theories of racial difference and similitude
prevalent at the time and to the narratives produced by the slaves
themselves, accounts which delineate the emergence of a culturally
hybrid consciousness of the black diaspora.
theories of difference / similitude

In his attempt to situate historic relationships between civilisations,
the German philosopher, George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel
(1770±1831) identi®ed the dichotomy between the African and
Asiatic civilisations and the civilisations of ancient Greece, ancient
Rome and the modern world, as being determined by the latter's
emphasis upon the signi®cance of ìndividual freedom' and self-
determination.30 According to Hegel, whereas the emergence of
Christianity in the western world con®rmed the evolution of self-
consciousness, spiritual development and individual freedom, Africa
was an ùnhistorical continent, with no movement or development of
its own'.31 For Hegel, therefore, the history of western civilisation
could be envisaged as a gradual translation of the Christian dis-
course of universal freedom into secular demands for social, political
and ethical rights within the modern states.32 In his `Philosophical
History of the World' (second draft, 1830), Hegel declared that the
in¯uence occasioned by the rise of Christianity meant that modern
western nations were the ®rst to realise that man was, by nature,
free. Heralding Christianity as the essential foundation of self-
determined rights of liberty, Hegel identi®ed Christian ideology as
the world narrative of cultural liberation, hence endorsing, albeit
indirectly, the interrelationship between missionary activity and
colonialism. Similarly, although he acknowledged that slavery was a
moral injustice which contravened the very essence of humanity, he
suggested that slavery could only become an actual injustice if a slave
claimed his right to be free; a slave who accepted his condition
therefore, was as much to blame as his slave owners:
The only signi®cant relationship between the negroes and the Europeans
has been ± and still is ± that of slavery. The negroes see nothing improper
about it, and the English, although they have done most to abolish slavery
and the slave trade, are treated as enemies by the negroes themselves . . .
The basic principle of all slavery is that man is not yet conscious of his
freedom, and consequently sinks to the level of a mere object or worthless
article . . . Slavery is unjust in and for itself, for the essence of man is
freedom; but he must ®rst become mature before he can be free. Thus, it is
more ®tting and correct that slavery should be eliminated gradually than
that it should be done away with all at once.33
Early eighteenth-century travel accounts of voyages to Africa,
such as Bosman's New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea
(1705), William Snelgrave's New Account of Guinea, and the Slave Trade
(1734) and Atkins' Voyage to Guinea, Brasil, and the West Indies (1735) had
provided detailed records of African religious practices and doc-
trines:
A'most all the Coast Negroes believe in one true God, to whom they attribute
the creation of the world and all things in it, though . . . [they are not] able
to form a just idea of a Deity.34
They [the Africans] went every Morning and Evening to the River side to
make Fetiche as they call it, that is, to offer Sacra®ce to their principal God,
which was a particular harmless Snake they adored, and prayed on this
occasion, to keep their Enemies from coming over the River.35
[The Snake] is the principle Deity or Fetish of the Country . . . They believe
an Intercourse with the Snake, to whom they have dedicated their service,
capacitates them to stop or promote the plagues that infest them . . . They
have Fetish-women, or Priestesses, that live separated with a number of
Virgins under their care.36
Whether Hegel had read any of these accounts, and if so which ones,
is dif®cult to establish. Yet Hegel adamantly asserted that Africans
had no understanding of the `spiritual life': theirs was a nature às
yet compressed within itself ', an undeveloped state with no recogni-
tion of the universal or that which existed ìn and for itself ' and
possessed àbsolute validity':
Generally speaking, Africa is a continent enclosed within itself, and this
enclosedness has remained its chief characteristic . . . From the earliest
historical times, Africa has remained cut off from all contacts with the rest
of the world; it is the land of gold, for ever pressing in upon itself, and the
land of childhood, removed from the light of self-conscious history and
wrapped in the dark mantle of night.37
Hegel's eurocentric endorsement of the `glorious light of Chris-
tianity' inscribed a binary schema of difference in terms of the
Africans' spiritual non-potential, their intellectual incapacity and
their excessive sensuality. This in turn de®ned Africa as a land of
absence, a land without religion or consciousness, a land ènclosed
upon itself '; in other words, the ultimate antithesis of the west's
expansionist and self-constructing self:
This [African] character . . . is dif®cult to comprehend, because it is so
totally different from our own culture, and so remote and alien in relation to
our own mode of consciousness. We must forget all the categories which are
fundamental to our own spiritual life . . . It must be said in general that, in
the interior of Africa, the consciousness of the inhabitants has not yet
reached an awareness of any substantial and objective existence. Under the
heading of substantial objectivity, we must include God, the eternal, justice,
nature, and all natural things . . . But the Africans have not yet attained this
recognition of the universal; their nature is as yet compressed within itself:
and what we call religion, the state, that which exists in and for itself and
possesses absolute validity ± all this is not yet present to them.38
In his Phenomenology of Spirit, ®rst published in 1807, Hegel
described the concept of the spirit as `consciousness', a self-knowing
or spiritual essence permeated by a `self-consciousness which knows
itself, and knows the essence as an actuality confronting it'.39
Likewise, in his account of the `Phenomenology of Religion', he
examined the ways in which men conceptualised a spirituality that
transcended their own. He identi®ed Christianity as that absolute
and revealed religion by which means men strived to become one
with a spiritual principle unknown to Africans. According to Hegel,
such a process was ®rst manifested within the ®gure of Jesus, whom
he claimed, communicated the workings of this Divine Spirit to his
believers:
Religion begins with the awareness that there is something higher than
man. But this kind of religion is unknown to the negroes . . . We can sum
up the principle of African religion in his [Herodotus'] declaration that all
men in Africa are sorcerers. That is, as a spiritual being, the African
arrogates to himself a power over nature, and this is the meaning of his
sorcery . . . Sorcery does not entail the idea of a God or of a moral faith, but
implies that man is the highest power and that he alone occupies a position of authority
over the power of nature . . . Man, then, is master of these natural forces. This
has nothing whatsoever to do with veneration of God or the recognition of
a universal spirit as opposed to the spirit of the individual.40
Hegel's analysis of the Africans' `cult of the dead' (a belief margin-
alised in the slave narratives) focused upon their belief in the spirits
of the dead, their deceased ancestors and forefathers, whom they
believed were `capable of acting against the living': `They [the
Africans] resort to these spirits in the same way as to fetishes,
offering them sacri®ces and conjuring them up':
They [the Africans] do not invoke God in their ceremonies; they do not
turn to any higher power, for they believe that they can accomplish their
aims by their own efforts. To prepare themselves for their task, they work
themselves into a state of frenzy; by means of singing, convulsive dancing,
and intoxicating spirits or potions, they reach a state of extreme delirium in
which they proceed to issue their commands.41
For Hegel, one important feature which distinguished African
epistemology from that of Christianity was the transposition of `this
power of theirs' into a visible form, that is, the projection of
`consciousness' on to an image. This process, however, was not so
dissimilar to the Christian emblematisation of various theological
concepts such as the `holy spirit' and the `sacred heart'. Yet by
introducing the term `fetish' into his discussion of African belief
systems, Hegel established a powerful narrative of cultural alterity:
It is a fetish, a word to which the Portuguese ®rst gave currency, and which
is derived from fetico, or magic. Here, in the fetish, the arbitrary will of the
individual does seem to be faced with an independent entity, but since the
object in question is nothing more than the will of the individual projected into a visible
form, this will in fact remains master of the image it has adopted.42
Paradoxically, Hegel's words provide an interesting paradigm of the
Romantic poets' endeavours to project images of the mind on to
external forms. As discussed above, Wordsworth's Prelude and Coler-
idge's conversation poems present effective poetical `mappings' of
emblems of consciousness, yet for Hegel such a process, `the will of
the individual projected into a visible form', is nothing more than an
arbitrary principle of superstition or `magic'.43
Hegel's conviction of Africa's complete isolation from the `devel-
oping' world was similarly expressed in Johann Joachim Winckel-
man's earlier treatise, The History of Ancient Art, a text which
prioritised the superiority of Greek art òver that of other nations'.44
According to Winckelman, Egypt and Greece, in their aesthetic and
cultural capacities, were essentially isolated from African in¯uence,
whilst Àfrica' itself remained in an eternal state of arrested develop-
ment:
The art of drawing among the Egyptians is to be compared to a tree which,
though well cultivated, has been checked and arrested in its growth by a
worm, or other casualties; for it [has] remained unchanged, precisely the
same, yet without attaining its perfection, until the period when Greek
kings held sway over them.45
Hence Winckelman argued that the resemblance between character-
istics of Greek and Egyptian art did `not prove that the Greeks learnt their
art from the Egyptians. In fact, they had no opportunity of doing so'.46
Hegel's and Winckelman's claims of difference on cultural and
spiritual grounds was similarly upheld by pro-slavery ideology. In the
slave states of America and the West Indies, the conversion of slaves
to Christianity was opposed on both economic and social grounds:
that is, for fear of the rebelliousness that concepts of Christian
equality might instil amongst the slaves and the economic crisis that
might result. Consequently, anticipating Hegel, slave ideology en-
dorsed a discourse of difference which pivoted upon the claim that
since Africans lacked the possession of a soul, or inner spirit, they
could be de®ned as the possessions of others.47
Accounts detailing `proof ' of African's racial difference and
religion were hence used to support theories of their intellectual
inferiority, as demonstrated by David Hume's analysis of the `negro'
in his major essay, Òf National Characters' (1748) and its revision of
1753:
I am apt to suspect the Negroes to be naturally inferior to the Whites.
There scarcely ever was a civilised nation of that complexion, nor even any
individual, eminent either in action or speculation . . . Such a uniform and
constant difference could not happen, in so many countries and ages, if
nature had not made an original distinction between these breeds of
men.48
Such theories of àbsence' ± religious, intellectual and moral ± and
of difference (aesthetic and racial) contributed to the development of
a complex and often ambiguous discourse of property and justi-
®cation of slavery, exempli®ed by Hume's analysis of the origin of
justice and property:
Our property is nothing but those goods, whose constant possession is
establish'd by the laws of society; that is, by the laws of justice. Those,
therefore, who make use of the words property, or right, or obligation, before
they have explain'd the origin of justice . . . are guilty of a very gross fallacy,
and can never reason upon any solid foundation. A man's property is some
object related to him. This relation is not natural, but moral, and founded
on justice . . . The idea of justice . . . wou'd never have been dream'd of
among rude and savage men.49
Accordingly, theories which negated the presence of Africa's histor-
ical or spiritual (or indeed, creative) dimension strategically validated
Europe's concept of itself as (pre)ordained `saviour' and `proprietor'
of inferior races. Not surprisingly, such a dichotomy depended upon
the preservation and dissemination of ideologies of cultural differ-
ence and racial apartheid, elements formally enshrined within
legislation that prohibited against various forms of `cultural' mis-
cegenation and informally maintained by means of social beha-
vioural codes in the colonies. Yet despite these efforts to maintain
racial and cultural difference, forces of cultural intertextuality and
racial contact continued to surface.
laws of control: the negation of property and the

prohibition of miscegenation
By the end of the seventeenth century, plantation owners had
transported over a quarter of a million slaves from Africa to
Barbados, Jamaica and the Leeward Islands. Over 70 per cent of
those imported by the Royal African Company between 1673 and
1689 came from the Guinea coasts, the remainder originating from
the Senegambia region to the north and from Angola to the south.50
In order to undermine the potential of violent insurrections and
thereby ensure the safety of the plantations, English traders deliber-
ately selected slaves from a variety of tribes and languages so that
these slaves, `not understanding each other languages and customs'
could not àgree to rebel'.51 Likewise as part of the effort to negate
the Africans' sense of identity (communal and individual) and
maximise pro®ts derived from sugar, the enslaved Africans were
regarded as chattel and treated as transferable property without
rights or redress in the law.
At ®rst, English colonists avoided de®nitions of slavery by means
of a haphazard regulatory structure which governed relations
between slaves and masters. Later, however, drawing upon the
system of servitude brought to the West Indies by the Spanish,
planters developed a network of legal codes and customs designed to
maintain a system of binary difference between black `slaves' and
their white `masters'.52 In 1637, the Government Council of Bar-
bados decreed that `Negroes and Indians, that came here to be sold,
should serve for life, unless a contract was before made to the
contrary'. However, as Alissandra Cummins points out, no such
`contracts' were ever `made'. Since political power in the British
Colonies was dependent upon a relationship between a white elite
and the English Crown, the slave system rested upon the legal
concept of property in persons, a concept which was later reinforced
by the development of West Indian Slave Codes which attempted to
de®ne slave status and regulate their activities. As de®nitions of what
constituted a slave were based on lines of descent, reproduction
amongst slaves meant an increase in a slaveholders' property:
Slaves . . . shall be judged, deemed, and taken as inheritances and shall
accordingly descend; and all children of slaves born in the Possession of
Tenant for Life or Years, shall remain, or revert as the Parents do, and
should have done.53
The category of mulatto was, however, more dif®cult to de®ne:
And for the better ascertaining who shall be deemed mulattoes . . . no
Person who is not above Three Negroes removed in a lineal Descent from
the Negroe Ancestor exclusive, shall be allowed to vote or poll in Elections;
and no one shall be deemed a Mulatto after the Third Generation, as
aforesaid, but that they shall have the Privileges of this Island, provided they are
brought up in the Christian Religion.54
In order to reinforce the constructed dichotomy between masters
and slaves, in 1644 the Antigua Assembly composed a law forbidding
miscegenation or `caarnall coppullation [sic] between Christian and
Heathen'. Although this law attempted to prohibit interracial sexual
contact, it simultaneously de®ned the product of such an act, the
mulatto offspring, as a slave destined to serve until the age of
eighteen or twenty-one. It was subsequently revised in 1672 so as to
determine the mulatto as a slave for life.55 In fact, an examination of
the Private Acts of Assembly passed in Jamaica indicates that
complicated and infrequent efforts were made to secure mulattoes
their status as English subjects, as exempli®ed by the Private Act
passed to entitle `the reputed [Mulatto] Children of Patrick Hanlon,
Esquire, deceased . . . to the same Rights and Privileges with
English Subjects, under certain Restrictions'.56
Attempts (formal and otherwise) to prohibit miscegenation thus
strained against the pervasive dynamics of sexual desire, most
especially between white masters and females of African descent,
and as a result the social structure of the West Indies contained an
increasingly large `coloured' sector (in Jamaica, for example, in the
period 1829±1832, of the 4041 coloured children born, at least 2000
had white fathers).57 In fact, the question of interracial sexual
activity reached the House of Commons as early as 1790 when it was
admitted by Lt. Dawson that female slaves were frequently let out by
their owners `for Purposes of prostitution'.58 More sophisticated
theoretical endeavours to maintain the distinction between the races
included Edward Long's History of Jamaica: Or, a General Survey of the
Antient and Modern State of That Island (1774). In this text, Long, the son
of a Jamaican planter (Samuel Long), claimed that the white and
black race were two distinct species and that racial intermixture
amongst them would result in a gradual decline in fertility. By
combining the concept of polygenesis (many species) ± `must we not
conclude, that they are a different species of the same genus?' ± with
religious alterity, Long advanced his theoretical validation of racial
difference as a justi®cation of slavery in the West Indies:
I shall next consider their [the Negroes] disparity, in regard to the faculties
of the mind. Under this head we are to observe, that they remain at this time in
the same rude situation in which they were found two thousand years ago. In general,
they are void of genius, and seem almost incapable of making any progress in
civility or science. They have no plan or system of morality among them . . . They
have no moral sensations; no taste but for women; gormondizing, and drinking to
excess; no wish but to be idle.59
In the following year, the anthropological treatise by Johann Frie-

drich Blumenbach (under whom Coleridge studied in 1798±1799),
Òn the Natural Variety of Mankind' (1775) attempted to repudiate
such theories of polygenesis (`the plurality of human species') in
terms of their departure from the àccuracy of Scripture' and their
lack of scienti®c analysis:
For on the ®rst discovery of the Ethiopians, or the beardless inhabitants of
America, it was much easier to pronounce them different species than to
inquire into the structure of the human body, to consult the numerous
anatomical authors and travellers . . . When the matter is thoroughly
considered, you see that all [species of man] do so run into one another . . .
that you cannot work out the limits between them.60
Blumenbach's claims for monogenesis were advanced alongside a

positive acknowledgement of the Africans' culture and their non-
Christian beliefs. In his Òbservations on the Bodily Conformation
and Mental Capacity of the Negroes' (1799) and his subsequent
`Contributions to Natural History' (1806), Blumenbach extended his
belief in the af®nity of the human species to a systematic con®r-
mation of Negro equality, citing the `good disposition and faculties'
of blacks such as the Wesleyan Methodist preacher, Madox, and the
ex-slaves, Ignatius Sancho, Gustavus Vassa and Phillis Wheatley. 61
Blumenbach maintained however, in the third edition of the
`Natural Variety' that anatomical differences in the reproductive
organs made transracial sexual relationships, especially between
black males and white females, dif®cult and therefore rare.62 Apart
from Coleridge's connection with Blumenbach, these debates con-
cerning racial disparity must have reached the Romantic poets.
Book 7 of Wordsworth's Prelude displays a signi®cant anxiety in its
focus upon racial types (Às we proceed, all specimen of man /
Through all the colours which the sun bestows . . . Moors, / Malays,
Lascars, the Tartar and Chinese, / And Negro ladies in white muslin
gowns'), whilst his poem concerning the three black female exiles,
`Queen and Huntress, Chaste and Fair' (see Chapter 3) emphasises a
connection between blackness and (excessive) sexuality.63 Likewise
we know that Blake engraved plates for Lavater's treatise on
physiognomy, a text which `measured' cranial proportions and
character.
For Blumenbach, the unity of the species of man was ostensibly
delineated by the àlmost insensible and inde®nable transition'
between the races, from the `pure white' skin of the Germans, to the
yellow and red `types' and ®nally, to the `darkest black' Ethiopians.64
In 1776 Raynal had claimed that gradual racial intermixture had the
`natural advantage' of preserving `the species from deteriorating'.65
According to Blumenbach, evidence of this ìnsensible transition'
was embodied by the `hybrid offspring' or `mulatto' ®gure provided
by the miscegenous act, as its epistemological stem, `mule', implied:
1. The offspring of a black man and a white woman, or the reverse, is called
Mulatto, Mollaka, Melatta; by the Italians, Bertin, Creole and Criole; by the
inhabitants of Malabar, Mestico . . . 2. The offspring of an European male
with a Mulatto female is called Terceron, Castico. The son of a European
female from a Metif is called a Quarteroon. The offspring of two Mulattoes is
called Casque; and of blacks and Mulattoes, Griffs.66
As far as the monogeneist Blumenbach was concerned, the meta-
morphosis of colour determined by these `hybrid' transitions conclu-
sively negated any polygenetic hypotheses of the human species such
as those advanced by Long. Conversely, Long's tract, Candid Re¯ec-
tions (1775) and the article published in The Morning Post, 22 December
1786, by an anonymous author, suggested that `miscegenation'
presented a serious threat to all classes of society and a disturbing
contamination of English blood:
When the late Mr Dunning was some forty years ago reasoning against
making this country a refuge for all the blacks who chose to come here, he
observed, `that the numerous dingy-coloured faces which crowded our
streets, must have their origin in our wives being terri®ed when pregnant, by
the numerous Africans who were to be seen in all parts of the town, and if
the legislature did not take some method to prevent the introduction of any
more, he would venture to prophecy, that London would, in another
century, have the appearance of an Ethiopian colony.67
In the third edition of Òn the Natural Variety' (1795), Blumen-
bach's application of critical zoology to the natural history of
mankind identi®ed the ànalogous phenomena of degeneration' as a
process of biological decline in specialism and function, including the
deterioration of a race's intellectual, moral and physical attributes.68
From the late eighteenth century onwards, the study of `degener-
ation', in terms of the physical and physiological characteristics of the
human species, became central to de®nitions of racial variation. 69
Using the example of the mule as their model, those who believed
that racial difference was a consequence of polygenesis argued that
`crosses' across the species were rare and that the resulting products
were either infertile or would produce infertile offspring. In a
development of this discourse of `degeneration' in his text, The Animal
Kingdom Arranged in Conformity with Its Organisation (1827), the French
scientist Georges Cuvier de®ned `degeneracy' in terms of the
`compressed cranium', a signi®er of racial inferiority:
In the Ethiopian variety the front of the head is laterally compressed and
considerably elongated, so that the length of the whole skull from the teeth
to the occiput is great. It forms a complete contrast to the globular head of
some Europeans.70
Likewise, Cuvier argued that `degenerate types' would display a

constant state of unbridled lascivity and lethargy and would there-
fore never achieve greatness on physical, mental or moral grounds:
`We may venture to lay it down as a general position, for the truth of
which all history may be made to vouch, that the white races are
decidedly superior to the dark in intellectual and moral qualities'.71
Eighteenth-century theories of evolution and origin ± and their
rigorous efforts to maintain cultural and/or racial difference between
the subject (the west) and its objects (its colonised others) ± were
essentially problematised by the consequences of assimilation, and
more especially, miscegenation. In late seventeenth-century New
England, the increasing number of mulattos necessitated the need for
distinct laws classifying their otherwise indeterminate status between
that of person and property. Likewise, the legal designation of these
mixed `species' by the terms `mulatto', `mulatta' or `molatto'
re¯ected the alarm felt by advocates of racial purity and more
general fears concerning the deterioration of slavery itself. By 1664,
both Virginia and Maryland had developed harsh laws outlawing
interracial marriage; similarly, in December 1705, the legislature of
Massachusetts enacted a stringent law for the `better preventing of a
spurious and mix't issue'.72 In 1768 the ratio between whites and
slaves in Jamaica was 17,000:167,000 (approximately 1:10). By the end
of West Indian slavery this ratio had become 1:20:2 with a population
of 16,000 whites, 310,000 slaves and 31,000 `coloured' persons, the
latter constituting a distinct category whose legal status was con-
sidered superior to that of slaves but inferior to that of whites. As
these population statistics demonstrate, the increasing numbers of
mixed race population in colonies constituted an intermediate term
which interrupted the master discourse and which constituted a
dialogic, turbulent, displaced subject.73 On a different note, in his
Researches into the Physical History of Man (1813), the leading authority in
England on biological racial theory, James Cowles Prichard,
discussed the hypothesis that nature had provided for the preserva-
tion of distinct species (which he de®ned as entities of `constant and
perpetual difference') by means of a system of `mutual repugnance'
between such `different kinds' of species: `The hybrid animals,
produced by the mixture of any two of them, is unproli®c'.74 Yet for
Prichard, the fact that racial intermixture amongst humans pro-
duced offspring that were proli®c meant that the `tribes to which the
parents respectively belong[ed]' could not be proved to be `speci®c-
ally different': `The rule being thus established, there remains no
dif®culty with regard to the diversities of mankind. We very easily
conclude that all men are of one and the same species'.75
In his Lectures on Physiology, Zoology, and the Natural History of Man
(1819), the British anatomist, Sir William Lawrence, identi®ed inter-
racial sexual relations as ùn-natural unions' which he believed
would bring about the physical and moral `deterioration' of Euro-
peans. Although principally a monogenist, Lawrence, like Prichard,
argued that nature had provided barriers of instinctive aversion and
geographical distance between the races so as to prevent degenera-
tive corruption:
Europeans and Tercerons produce Quarterons or Qaudroons . . . which
are not to be distinguished from whites: but they are not entitled, in
Jamaica at least, to the same legal privileges as the Europeans or white
Creoles, because there is still a contamination of dark blood, although no
longer visible . . . [In] the dark races, and all who are contaminated by any
visible mixture of dark blood . . . all other physical and moral qualities are
equally in¯uenced . . . The intellectual and moral character of the
Europeans is deteriorated by the mixture of black or red blood; while, on
the other hand, an infusion of white blood tends in an equal degree to
improve and ennoble the qualities of the dark varieties.76
Three decades later, the nineteenth-century racial theorist Joseph
Arthur de Gobineau outlined the Newtonian laws of attraction and
repulsion between the races in his essay, The Inequality of Human Races
(1853±1855). These, he claimed, functioned as key forces governing
the `secret repulsion from the crossing of blood' between the white,
black and yellow human races, yet he acknowledged the presence of
fertile human hybrids:
The word degenerate, when applied to a people, means (as it ought to mean)
that the people has no longer the same intrinsic value as it had before,
because it has no longer the same blood in its veins, continual adulterations
having gradually affected the quality of that blood.77
Adopting Gobineau's de®nition of `degeneration' as a process of
continual adulteration, Eugene Talbot asserted that the degeneracy
effected by racial intermixture was indicated by the environment;
hence a mulatto was `better adapted to the white environment than
the pure negro, albeit lesser than the white'.78 Talbot claimed that
the degeneracy caused by racial intermixture could be con®rmed by
the `relapse into voodooism and cannibalism' practised by the Haiti,
the Louisiana French hybrids and the Anglo-Saxon hybrids of
Liberia. According to Talbot, racial intermixture could not result in
the elevation of a race, especially in cases where the female was of an
inferior race: `Given the negro pelvis and the head of a white, results
damaging to the offspring cannot but occur . . . hence intermixture
with an inferior race . . . would tend to degeneracy'. 79 Gobineau
drew a further parallel between his hypotheses of racial inequality
and the ìnequality of languages' displayed by Africans. Somewhat
paradoxically, he identi®ed the language invented by bushmen as
in®nitely inferior, even though he suggested that it had been devel-
oped as a coded system speci®cally designed to exclude whites.
Hence he concluded that:
All the facts . . . go to prove that, originally, there is a perfect
correspondence between the intellectual virtues of a race and those of its
native speech; that languages are, in consequence, unequal in value and
signi®cance . . . as races are also . . . I may thus lay it down, as a universal
axiom, that the hierarchy of languages is in strict correspondence with the
hierarchy of races.80
Although Gobineau traced the dialectic between the forces of
civilisation and the processes of degeneration, he also argued that
`blood mixture' was necessary to the development of primitive
society. Cross-cultural contact, he suggested, had provided cultures
with conditions necessary for their improvement.81 Yet he main-
tained that all civilisations were ultimately derived from the white
race; none could èxist without its help'. For this reason he argued
that artistic genius in the black race was merely the result of `the
intermixture' between blacks and whites: that the overall effects of
miscegenation were generally unfavourable, since they enervated the
noblest elements:
If mixtures of blood are, to a certain extent, bene®cial to the mass of
mankind, if they raise and ennoble it, this is merely at the expense of
mankind itself, which is stunted, abased, enervated, and humiliated . . .
There is no greater curse than such disorder, for however bad it may have
made the present state of things, it promises still worse for the future.82
This confused and ambiguous discourse of hybridisation and
degeneration presented by scientists, human biologists and ethno-
graphers alike, served to endorse fears regarding the mulatto's threat
to European civilisation. As a consequence of this confusion and
ambiguity, the term `Creole' (discussed in detail in the following
chapter) was used to signify a white person born in the colonies and
also a person of mixed (European and Indian/native/black)
descent.83 Nonetheless, despite the proliferation of hypotheses advo-
cating the need for racial segregation, the persisting numbers of
`mulattoes', `quadroons' and òctoroons' con®rmed the increasing
mechanisms of desire which functioned at odds with the social and
legislative disapproval of interracial contact. As both a physical
presence (the product of a socially illicit relationship) and as a
metaphor for cultural synchronisation, the mulatto-®gure designated
a complex site of exchange, of migration and of `translation'
between two cultures, illustrated in Josiah Quincey's journal of 1773:
The enjoyment of a negro or mulatto woman is spoken of as quite a
common thing: no reluctance, delicacy or shame is made about the matter.
It is far from being uncommon to see a gentleman at dinner, and his
reputed offspring a slave to the master of the table . . . The fathers neither
of them blushed or seemed disconcerted. They were called men of worth,
politeness and humanity.84
Pre-Civil War fears concerning miscegenation had developed into
a cohesive system of racist ideology which prioritised the necessity of
segregation in order to `protect' cultural, ethnic and social differ-
ences. As Nancy Stepan elucidates, apprehensions relating to the
effects of degeneration were increased twofold in the American
colonies: ®rstly, as a consequence of the extensive movement of
`freed' blacks into newly-vacated geographical and social spaces, and
secondly, by the threat of biological degeneration upon the white
race within the tropical zones appropriated by colonial ideology.85
Following the Somerset case of 1772, and the ®nal passing of the Bill
for Abolition in 1807, a similar situation existed in England and its
colonies, where a complex network of suppressive laws were devel-
oped which endeavoured to prohibit cultural miscegenation and the
education of slaves. For this reason, an intricate series of theories
emerged which claimed to endorse the `natural' division between
slaves and their masters on account of the slaves' intellectual
inferiority and their failure to embrace the complexities of the
written word. For pro-slavery ideologists, racial segregation crucially
depended upon the maintenance of a dichotomy constructed around
the parameters of literacy. Thus for the slaves, the acquirement of
literacy came to represent a crucial means of emancipation.
the written vs. the spoken word

In seventeenth-century England, the absence of (cultural) literacy,
and indeed linguistic alterity were identi®ed as signifying the
Africans' absence of reason and culture.86 In Shakespeare's The
Tempest (c. 1611), linguistic colonialism (the propagation of English
speech) and the usurpation of the spoken word by the written word
(the ultimate signi®er of `humanity') were two decisive factors which
informed the struggle over power between Prospero and the `savage'
Caliban. In this play, inspired by Sir George Somer's narrative of his
shipwreck in the Bermudas, Prospero's `white' magic is derived from
his claims for the power of the written word which Caliban, the
disinherited heir to Sycorax's `black' magic, recognises as the source
and agent of territorial expansionism, colonial ideology and cultural
subjugation: `Remember ®rst to possess his books; for without them/
He's a sot, as I am, nor hath not one spirit to command'.87 For
colonialists and plantocrats alike, the distinction between oral and
printed forms of language re¯ected a systemisation of difference
which was to be maintained at all costs. Laws prohibiting the
education of slaves, such as the colonial statutes of South Carolina in
1740 thereby con®rmed the correlation between political rights and
literacy:
Be it enacted, that all and every person and persons whatsoever, who shall
hereafter teach, or cause any slave or slaves to be taught to write, or shall
use or employ any slave as a scribe in any manner of writing whatsoever,
hereafter taught to write; every such person or persons shall, for every
offense, forfeith the sum of one hundred pounds current money. 88
Unsurprisingly, this juxtaposition of literacy and freedom emerged

as one of the central tropes of slave narratives published during the
late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. According to Gates,
literacy `stood as the ultimate parameter by which to measure the
humanity of authors struggling to de®ne an African self in Western
letters'.89 In the Narrative of the Adventures and Escape of Moses Roper,
from American Slavery published in London in 1837, Moses Roper
highlighted the inter-relationship between liberation and literacy in
an episode describing his acquirement of a forged pass, a document
which enabled him to escape from the slave-designated territory of
North Carolina and enter the land of `freedom'. In Roper's text, the
written word functioned metaphorically as the slave's passport to
freedom and as a literal signi®er of his newly acquired identity:
Having heard several freed coloured men read theirs [free passes], I
thought I could tell the lad what to write. The lad sat down and wrote what
I told him, nearly ®lling a large sheet of paper for the passport, and another
sheet with recommendations.90
A slave's `literary' entrance into the dominant order was, however,

also dependent upon his/her appropriation of the established
linguistic order. Seventeenth-century linguists such as Sir Thomas
Herbert, in his Some Yeares Travels into Divers Parts of Asia and Afrique
(1638), compared the native languages of Africa with the ùnnatural'
sexual practices (`coupling without distinction') between Africans
and beasts. This `beastly copulation or conjuncture', he argued, had
caused the Africans' language to be `rather apishly founded',
resulting in a voice `twixt humane and beast'. 91 Herbert identi®ed
this ùnnatural' linguistic mixture as a register of Africans' lack of
religion: `Notwithstanding, though I made all signes, and tried each
way possible to discover some spark of devotion, of the knowledge of
God, heaven, hell, or immortality; I could not ®nde any thing that
way'.92
Alongside the transference of these ùnnatural' linguistic systems
and cultural folktales which accompanied the slaves' transatlantic
crossings, additional cultural orientations were preserved, the most
important of these being the continuation of polytheistic African
systems based on a belief in the spirits of ancestors and supernatural
powers.93 On the plantation islands and in the colonies, missionaries
endeavoured to replace ulterior cultural belief systems with Christian
creeds premised upon concepts of original `sin' and repentance. Yet
slaves continued to revere African obeahs and myalists (priests and
`magicians') whom they considered as intermediaries of the spirit
world.94 Many slaves recognised the necessity of appropriating the
discourse of Christianity in order to advance abolitionist agendas;
others, however, were suspicious of embracing concepts of religious
salvation detached from demands for socioeconomic liberation or
emancipation. The African slaves' continued reverence for obeahs
(who were always African rather than Creole) and myalists re¯ected
a sustained preference for the ecstatic fervour of the spirit rather
than the (written) word. This ambivalence towards the written word
was recorded during the early stages of seventeenth-century terri-
torial colonialism and described by the Dutch West India Company
representative, William Bosman in his account of African coastal
societies, A New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea (1698):
For a great part of the Negroes believe that Man was made by Anansie, that is,
a great Spider . . . They tell us, that in the beginning God created Black as
well as White Men; thereby not only hinting but endeavouring to prove
that their Race was as soon in the World as ours; and to bestow a yet
greater Honour on themselves, they tell us that God having created these
two sorts of Men, offered two sorts of Gifts, viz. Gold, and the Knowledge
or Arts of Reading and Writing, giving the Blacks the ®rst Election, who
chose Gold, and left the Knowledge of Letters to the White. God granted
their Request, but being incensed at their Avarice, resolved that the Whites
should for ever be their Masters, and they obliged to wait on them as their
Slaves.95
Interestingly, Bosman's narrative tells us as much about Africa's
interpretation of the west as it does about Bosman himself and the
culture for which he functioned as an ambassador. When the New
and Accurate Description was published, Guinea had been ®rmly
established as a major source of slave-based economic wealth. The
introduction of the `guinea' coin con®rmed the intricate relationship
between the slave trade and England's socioeconomic trans-
formation by means of the industrial revolution. 96 The subtext of
Bosman's `tale' established a paradigm for the critical transference of
wealth from Africa to the west, continued in the eighteenth century,
and perhaps more importantly, described the pivotal interrelation-
ship between the mechanisms of power and the written word, the
whites' `knowledge of letters'. For the slaves, therefore, `liberation'
depended upon their `literary' entrance into, or penetration of, the
dominant order. At this point, the narratives of insurrection and
emancipation inscribed by the slaves coincide with sociopolitical
narratives of independence which emerged in England and America
during the latter half of the eighteenth century.
declarations of independence: paine, jefferson

and the slaves
For, all men being originally equals, no one by birth could have a
right to set up his own family in perpetual preference to all
others for ever: and, though himself might deserve some decent
degree of honours of his contemporaries, yet his descendants
might be far too unworthy to inherit them. One of the strongest
natural proofs of the folly of hereditary right in kings, is, that
nature disapproves it, otherwise she would not so frequently
turn it into ridicule, by giving mankind an ass for a lion.97
On 9 January 1776, Thomas Paine's sensational pamphlet, Common
Sense: Addressed to the Inhabitants of America appeared. This remarkable
text, which in itself manifested a radical departure from time-
honoured traditions of political writing, articulated a demand for
American independence from Britain, alongside calls for the estab-
lishment of a republican government.98 In this tract, which sold
150,000 copies, Paine passionately and vehemently attacked the
English Constitution and the principle of hereditary rule, denoun-
cing them and the English monarchy as `the base remains of two
ancient tyrannies'. Paine, the son of a Quaker and a local attorney's
daughter, called for the creation of a republican government based
entirely on a representation of the people whereby the rights of
persons, property and religion were guaranteed. For him as for other
key thinkers of the time, republicanism rested ®rmly upon a
discourse advocating the diffusion of private property amongst
citizens. Only this, it was argued, would genuinely establish the
conditions necessary for self-government and contribute to the
bene®cial development of society. Accordingly, the emerging rhetoric
of republican discourse centred upon concepts of virtue (the will-
ingness to subordinate sel®sh interest to the good of the whole);
equality (in terms of treatment before the law and wealth distri-
bution): and independence (the ability to resist outside coercion).
On 2 July 1776, the motion put forward by the Virginian Richard
Henry Lee, `That these united Colonies are, and of right ought to
be, free and independent States' was carried. Two days later, the
signing of Jefferson's `Declaration of Independence' by delegates of
the second Continental Congress, ushered in the appropriation of
the Scottish enlightenment philosophical discourse, most especially
the ìnalienable rights' to life and liberty advocated by Hutcheson
in his Inquiry into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue (1725) on
a national scale. As a declaration of independence it was written
and intended as a persuasive text to be read/heard by an audience
resident both within and outside the boundaries of the `new'
nation:
We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that
they are endowed by their creator with inherent and unalienable rights; that
among these are life, liberty, & a pursuit of happiness: that to secure these
rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers
from the consent of the governed; that whenever any form of government
becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or
abolish it, & to institute new government, laying it's foundation on such
principles, & organising it's powers in such form, as to them shall seem
most likely to effect their safety & happiness.99
As a narrative of liberation, America's `Declaration of Indepen-
dence' in¯uenced the emergence of a plethora of narratives premised
upon declarations of ìndependence' and emancipation, concep-
tually at odds with the master/mother text.100 This was similarly
con®rmed by Jefferson's de®ant rejection of Quaker ideology and
discourse:
A Quaker is, essentially, an Englishman, in whatever part of the earth he is
born or lives. The outrages of Great Britain on our navigation and
commerce, have kept us in perpetual bickerings with her. The Quakers
here have taken side against their own government . . . from devotion to
the views of the mother society.101
However, Jefferson's revolutionary manifesto, a quasi-legal articula-
tion of civil rights, omitted those racist sentiments derived from
ethnographic theory, expressed elsewhere in his writings:
Whether the black of the negro resides in the reticular membrane . . . [or]
whether it proceeds from the colour of the blood, . . . the difference is ®xed
in nature . . . And is this difference of no importance? Is it not the
foundation of a greater or less share of beauty in the two races? . . . The
circumstance of superior beauty, is thought worthy attention in the
propagation of our horses, dogs, and other domestic animals; why not in
that of man? . . . They [the negros] have less hair . . . They secrete less by
the kidneys, and more by the glands of the skin . . . They seem to require
less sleep . . . Love seems with them to be more an eager desire, than a
tender delicate mixture of sentiment and sensation . . . It appears to me,
that in memory they are equal to the whites; in reason much inferior . . . and that in
imagination they are dull, tasteless, and anomalous.102
Whilst declaring the inalienable rights of life and liberty to all,
therefore, his àutobiography' of a nation, a pseudo-narrative of
deliverance, implicitly registered a counter-discourse of territorial
expansionism, cultural dispossession and enslavement which had
made possible the nation's ìnnocent' birth. Jefferson's duplicitous
position on property rights re¯ected his awkward attempts to
reconcile principle with prejudice:
Whatever be their degree of talent it is no measure of their rights. Because
Sir Isaac Newton was superior to others in understanding, he was not
therefore lord of the person or property of others.103
Across the Atlantic, this important discussion over property rights

was further endorsed by the works of Thomas Paine. In 1787, Paine
made plans to return to Europe, ostensibly to promote his designs
for an iron bridge. Soon however, he became caught up in another
political upheaval, the outbreak of the French Revolution in 1789, an
event which inspired the Burke-Paine debate over political reform
and con®rmed the transatlantic intertextual dialogue in which the
term `revolution' simultaneously signi®ed slave emancipation,
radical social change and `postcolonial' reorderings. In November
1790, Edmund Burke published his Re¯ections on the Revolution in
France. In this text, Burke denounced the French Revolution as a
chaotic bastion of anarchy and extolled instead the virtues of the
`delicate balance' of the British political system, namely the political
power of the propertied aristocracy, the `glorious' bene®ts of an
hereditary line of succession and the necessary alliance between
church and state (as opposed to the demands of the `swinish multi-
tude'). For Paine, events in France heralded a desirable and timely
age of revolution and equality. Dedicated to George Washington,
Paine's Rights of Man: Being an Answer to Mr Burke's Attack on the French
Revolution (Part I of which appeared in March 1791) presented a
vindication of the events in France and insisted upon the rights and
duty of the present generation to act for itself rather than submit to
precedent:
Man has no property in man; neither has any generation a property in the
generations which are to follow . . . I am not contending for, nor against,
any form of government . . . I am contending for the right of the living, and
against their being willed away, and controuled and contracted for, by the
manuscript assumed authority of the dead.104
Although Paine was primarily concerned with the rights of the

citizen, his rhetoric widely challenged established concepts of `prop-
erty', concepts which had crucially been used to de®ne Africans as
slaves/objects rather than subjects. Within the legislative and socio-
economic discourses of both England and America, a slave's position
was intrinsically ambiguous: legal and linguistic de®nitions con-
tinued to vie against each other, determining blacks simultaneously
as property and persons before the law: human but not men
(`niggers'), `men' but also property, sexually desirable but not free,
`free(d)' but not equal, equal but not racially compatible. In order to
endorse the validity of their own subjectivity and independence, it
was essential that a slave's mode of discourse presented an alter-
native but equally viable discourse, infused with the power to under-
mine and usurp traditional discourses founded upon plantocratic
and racist ideology. The `discourse of the spirit' provided the slaves
with an effective (`creolised') mode of subversion, a persuasive
counter-hegemonic mode of articulation via which the culturally
hybrid consciousness of a black diaspora could emerge. In other
words, the slave narratives provided an illuminating juxtaposition
with mainstream Romanticism and hegemonic culture.
part two
chapter five
The diasporic identity: language and the

paradigms of liberation
All of it is now it is always now there will never be a time when

I am not crouching and watching others who are crouching too
. . . I cannot fall because there is no room to the men without
skin are making loud noises I am not dead . . . those able to die
are in a pile . . . the little hill of dead people.1
Part One of this study has concentrated upon the development of

the discourse of the spirit by (white) western authors, especially in
the context of Romantic and eighteenth-century dissent and enthusi-
asm. This second part examines the narratives published by slaves
and determines them as important paradigms of cross-cultural
contact: narratives which achieved a complex process of exchange
and negotiation between the discourse of Romanticism as it emerged
out of eighteenth-century dissent and the narratives of displaced
subjects, the slaves from the African diaspora. In so doing it argues
that the slave narratives published at the turn of the century
presented complex literary articulations of the culturally hybrid
consciousness of the black diaspora and thereby achieved an impor-
tant mixture of conscious strategem and discursive determination,
non-conformist rhetoric and African epistemology. By charting the
translation of literary and polemic expressions of identity into
abolitionist / non-conformist rhetoric, this latter part locates these
narratives as important disclosures of the slaves' experience of
cultural fragmentation and their emergence into the social and
linguistic order of the west. According to some historians, the
transatlantic journey (or `middle passage') effected an erasure of the
slaves' cultural memory.2 This study, however, highlights the devel-
opment of the slaves' sense of cultural identity (de®ned as a process
of `becoming' as well as `being' once history has intervened) and
demonstrates the ways in which their literature presented strategic
endeavours to counteract cultural and historical obliteration. By
157
examining the gaps and moments of disjuncture contained within
these narratives, it determines the poetic and autobiographical
narratives of the early black literary tradition as powerful articula-
tions of the diasporic identity, premised upon complex processes of
displacement, cultural preservation and miscegenous accommo-
dation.3 In this study therefore, the use of the term `slave narrative'
extends to a selection of texts (poetical and prosaic) published in
England, either composed, dictated or co-edited by slaves and ex-
slaves. These were usually accompanied by an engraved portrait of
the subject of the narrative, passages of biblical text, poetic epigrams,
authenticating testimonials, extracts from legal tracts and news-
papers, certi®cates of manumission and letters and dedications to
benefactors, patrons and politicians.4
As Hortense Spillers' analysis of the Moynihan Report of the late
1960s suggests, the diasporic plight marked a `violent severing of the
captive body from its motive will, its active desire'.5 The captive
body was hence reduced to an object, a `being for the captor' whose
absence from a subject position provided an index of physical and
biological òtherness' which determined its potential for `porno-
troping' and endorsed its condition of powerlessness:
That order [the sociopolitical order of slavery], with its human sequence
written in blood, represents for its African and indigenous peoples a scene of
actual mutilation, dismemberment, and exile . . . a theft of the body . . . The
loss of the indigenous name/land provides a metaphor of displacement for
other human and cultural features and relations, including displacement of
the genitalia, the female's and the male's desire that engenders future.6
Spillers argued that the captive body registered a site of dismember-
ment and exile intrinsically determined by the irreversible effects of
cultural dispersal and discontinuity. For Spillers therefore, the slave
signi®ed a non-site of suspended identity in which the signi®ers of
cultural hegemony had been usurped. Conversely, this study locates
the slave narratives as important models of cultural preservation
which demonstrated a continuation, by means of intrinsic processes
of transformation and synthesis, of the preslavery cultural self and
proclaimed the emergence of a hybrid, mulatto form.7
But what constituted a `slave' and his/her narrative? According to
legal ordinances of the West Indies and the Americas, a child's status
(as either slave or free-born) was determined by the status of its
mother. Within the plantocratic societies, biological reproduction,
whether voluntary or enforced, represented not only the extension of
The diasporic identity 159
subject hegemony (by the west) but a future investment in the
universal mercantile system. This identi®ed the diasporic identity as
a site of ambiguity at the interstice of private and public property.
The acquirement of two fathers (biological father and captive
master) marked the diasporic identity as an intercultural/intertextual
space between two narratives, a middle or third term located
geographically and metaphorically amidst the middle passage, a
term at once dependent upon and independent of both Africa and
the west. Such ìnterspatial positioning' was replicated by the
etymological stems of terms such as `nigger', `hybrid' and `mulatto' ±
terms which marked the ùnknown' territory between man and
animals, Africa and the west.8
As a site of constant transformation, the diasporic identity's entry
into the western symbolic order effected a con®rmation and simul-
taneous disruption of that established order in terms of its subjection
to and destabilisation of manifestations of colonial power. By
simultaneously claiming points of cultural difference and similitude, the
diasporic identity transformed the master discourse by signi®cant
processes of disturbance and transformation, not in terms of òther-
ness', but in terms of an unsettling miscegenation of language and
cultural identity:
Across a whole range of cultural forms there is a `syncretic' dynamic which
critically appropriates elements from the master-codes of the dominant
culture and `creolises' them, disarticulating given signs and rearticulating
their symbolic meaning otherwise. The subversive force of this hybridising
tendency is most apparent at the level of language itself where creoles,
patois and Black English decentre, destabilise and carnivalise the linguistic
domination of Ènglish' ± the nation-language of master-discourse ±
through strategic in¯ections, reaccentuations and other performative
moves in semantic, syntactic and lexical codes.9
This third or `hybrid' term did not proffer a negation of Hegelian
dialectic, nor a process by which the alterity of the other was
mitigated by assimilation, but a discourse located within the realm of
hiatus in which both the subject and object remained intact, albeit
transformed. As revealed by the `mulatto' or hybridised articulations
of the eighteenth century, the diasporic identity penetrated the
dominant order by means of an intermediary discourse which
achieved a fusion of conscious strategem and involuntary translation
of abolitionist rhetoric and African epistemology. By interrupting the
®xed binary schemas of difference and power, it marked a site of
creolised or syncretic discourse which decentred principal tenets of
western hegemony. By usurping presuppositions based upon a single
historical narrative, the diasporic identity contributed toward a
process of adaptation (transformation and synchronisation) which
manifested a complex fusion of languages, social order and modes of
worship. Ostensibly the diasporic/mulatto ®gure registered a com-
plicit note of cultural assimilation, yet it simultaneously emerged as a
trope of chiasmus, a signi®er of disruption and revision which
heralded a discourse of resistance and protest.
`words walking without masters': the language

of the diaspora
I ent have no gun
I ent have no knife
but mugging de Queen's English
is the story of my life
I dont need no axe
To split / up yu syntax
I dont need no hammer
to mash / up yu grammar . . .
I slashing suf®x in self-defence
I bashing future wit present tense
and if necessary
I making de Queen's English accessory to my offence.10
In drawing my title for this section from words cited in the novel
Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937), I hope to invoke and continue
the investigative spirit of the vivacious Harlem Renaissance author
and anthropologist Zora Neale Hurston (1891±1960), whose efforts
during the 1920s to step outside the white hermeneutical circle and
enter into the black have proved a pervasive force in the attempt to
initiate a dialogue concerned with questions of cultural identity and
representation.11 For Hurston, the search for a black literary lan-
guage, a language existing on the periphery of a standard English
literary tradition yet rooted in a profoundly lyrical, quasi-musical
oral tradition, coincided metaphorically with the search for an
appropriate mode of articulation for an identity (female and Afro-
American) which existed both within and without the dominant
(male) discourse. In the context of this study, `Words walking without
masters' suggests not only a quest for a self-re¯exive voice, liberated
from de®nitions of identity premised solely upon concepts of race or
gender, but corresponds to the diasporic identity's subversive entry
into the dominant (symbolic) order via a transformative use and
àbuse' of language.
For the authors of the slave narratives, the emergence of such a
voice represented both an individual and collective act, premised
upon the mechanisms of self-representation and dissent. In his
analysis of the relationship between the African and African-Amer-
ican vernacular traditions and black literature, Henry Louis Gates
de®ned this process as symbolising `the quest to become a speaking
subject'.12 Two years earlier, William Andrews' To Tell a Free Story:
The First Century of Afro-American Autobiography, 1760±1865 (1986)
identi®ed the unity of black autobiographies of the antebellum era as
being most apparent in the `persuasive use of the journey or quest
motif ' traced within their narratives of spiritual evolution. Accord-
ing to Andrews, the fugitive slave narrator and the black spiritual
autobiographer revealed a recognition of their `fundamental identity
with and rightful participation in logos, whether understood as reason
and its expression in speech or as divine spirit'.13 Extending the
propositions of both Gates' and Andrews' theses, this chapter
suggests that in their search for a self-re¯exive voice, the ®rst black
autobiographers posited a language of cultural identity permeated
by the dynamics of the diaspora ± that is, as words that walked both
with and without masters. This informed a sequence of narratives
premised upon displacement and recovery, heterogeneity, diversity
and hybridity. Uprooted from ancestral soil, stripped of the signi®ers
of their `native' culture and transported to the plantocratic societies
of the West Indies and the Americas, displaced Africans were forced
to maintain their cultural heritage at a meta rather than material
level, amidst `the operative metaphysics' of various alien cultures.14
It is at this point that the interrelationship between Hurston's
observation and the quest for freedom which characterises the slave
narratives becomes clear, given that the sovereignty of the individual
rested primarily upon a (re)possession of language, a linguistic
`mastery' which destabilised the dominant order by means of speech,
utterance and protest. Zora Neale Hurston's work provides a
renewed interaction with the discourse of the `spirit', not in terms of
unadulterated western Christianity, but in its mutant synthesis of
French Catholicism and the religious practices of the Yoruba people
of the west coast of Africa.15
Bereft of those cultural and political signi®ers which had provided
them with stable, unchanging and continuous frames of reference
and meaning, the slaves' àutobiographical' publications provided
important declarations of cultural identity amidst the traumatic
experience of their revised de®nition in the diaspora and in spite of
prohibitions which forbade them to learn to read and write. As these
àutobiographical' narratives manifested the ®rst literary expressions
of unprecedented cultural upheaval and revised hierarchies of
power, a predominant objective was their endeavour to redress
pervasive ideologies which had classi®ed blacks as either non-human
or as òbjects' unworthy of subject status. This study elucidates the
means by which these slave narratives reveal not only an ambiva-
lence towards the superiority of the written over the spoken word,
but register a reluctance to acquire either literacy (and thus cultural
identity) on strictly Western terms or to embrace wholesale articula-
tions of western ideology. Premised upon a bilateral assimilation and
rejection of dominant hegemony, the diasporic identity emerged as a
double-edged discourse, situated both within and outside the para-
meters of established spiritual discourse.16 By calling into question
the `spiritual' nature of their European captors, former slaves were
treading upon one of the most sensitive areas of `civilising' ideology.
the creolisation of language: creoles, black

english and patois
Contemporary linguistic studies have shown that languages variously
referred to as `black English' and Èbonics' were developed within
the complex linguistic arena of the slave plantations. As the visible
repositories of African culture were either prohibited or repressed
within slave societies, subtle linguistic and communicative syntheses,
or `creolisations' of West African languages and English emerged. In
this way the linguistic systems of pidgin, creole and Afro-American
retained structural remnants of certain African languages in spite of
the imposition of western linguistic models.17 The emergence of a
`pidgin' language involved a considerable reduction in the gramma-
tical structure of an appropriated language. The emergence of a
`creole' witnessed the moment at which pidgin became the native
language of those who used it. A creole, such as the Yoruba-English
based `krio' developed in Sierra Leone, represented a pidgin lan-
guage that had become a mother tongue. While they employed the
language of the respective European colonies, creoles preserved the
grammatical structure, pronunciation and translation of African
idioms:
Unlike `normal languages' a pidgin language usually comes into existence
for a speci®c reason, lasts just as long as the situation that called it into
being, and then goes quickly out of use . . . A pidgin acquires a longer lease
on life only by becoming the native language of a group of speakers
(becoming creolised), and thereby passes over to the status of a `normal'
language. From this point of view, we can speak of pidgins as having `life-
cycles', and of their being ìnherently weak' in that, not their linguistic
structure, but their social standing is normally not hardy enough to enable
them to be used outside of their original context.18
The word `creole' derives from the seventeenth-century Portuguese
term, `crioulo' (probably from `criar': to bring up), meaning a slave
of African descent born in the New World. Thereafter, the term was
extended to include Europeans born in the colonies, and in
eighteenth-century Louisiana was used to determine a person of
mixed European and African ancestry.19 The Latin stem of `creole',
creare meaning `to create', provides an appropriate metaphor for the
creation of slave objects and the complex dynamics of cross-cultural
contact. Within this study, the term `creolisation' refers not only to
the creation of new languages at moments of crisis, but also to the
revised positions (cultural, geographical and literary) which African
subjects took up in Europe and the Americas during the transatlantic
slave trade. It was, as Edward Kamau Brathwaite claimed in 1971, a
`two-way process', a cultural transaction which worked in both
directions.20 In this sense therefore, the term creolisation attests to
the continuum of African culture which radiated from the slave
communities and affected the entire culture of the United States, the
Caribbean and the British Isles. In terms of identity (re)formation,
the concept of `creolisation' re¯ects the critical processes of constant
transformation which constituted the slaves' sense of cultural identity
in the black diaspora.21
On board the slave ships, in the plantations and in the domestic
households of the colonies, the syncretic speech patterns, nuances
and creolised linguistic formats which emerged amongst the slaves
provided a means of communication both with, and to the exclusion
of, whites. As these fusions represented an appropriation and
revision of the dominant (cultural) discourse, this `creolisation' of
language also marked the ®rst stage in the development of the
hybridised discourse contained in the slave narratives. As Mole®
Kete Asante explains, the Ènglish' spoken by the African slaves and
their descendants retained the phonological, syntactical structures
and pitch tones of African languages:
Whatever semblance of English they learned had the unmistakable imprint
of African languages, much as the English spoken by the average French
person is rendered in many instances in terms of French phonology and
syntax. These Africans were, for the most part, not linguists learning
languages but lay persons acquiring an instrument for their survival. And
the limited English vocabulary and few sentences needed for the task of
staying alive were extremely useful in dealing with whites. But the mastery
of English morphology and syntax lay in the future.22
Asante's ¯ow diagram of the development `from African Languages
to Ebonics' illustrates the transformation of West African languages
of the Niger and the Congo into what she terms èbonics' or black
English [Fig. 3]. This process occurs ®rstly via `pidginisation', the
acquisition of foreign vocabulary in which the original morphology
and grammar are maintained; secondly, via `creolisation', the inte-
gration of unrelated languages; and ®nally, via ènglishization', the
emergence of a linguistic schema in which certain lexical terms and
the original communicative style are preserved. By means of this
complex linguistic process, tenets of African culture were maintained
despite the imposition of European values and styles. The signi®cant
dichotomies between the `master language/ideology' and its creo-
lised descendants were most particularly evident in the corre-
sponding verb systems and pronouns. For example, whereas English
possesses two perfects (past and present), black English distinguishes
between the simple past and present by means of verbal in¯ection (Ì
see it' meaning both Ì see it' or Ì saw it', depending on the context)
and retains a verb system with four perfects, including a completive
perfect, Ì done walked' and a remote time perfect, Ì been walked'.
Likewise, the tendency to use several, rather than a single verb to
express completed action, Ì took consideration and joined de lawd',
dissects the event into its various stages, a process which preserves
the predominance of harmonisation as a principal function of black
speech behaviour. Conversely, the English equivalent, Ì accepted
religion' or Ì became a Christian', reduces the action to a single,
main verb hinged upon spontaneity.23 On another level, African
languages and their descendants display a semantic system in which
the non-distinctive subject pronoun is retained: for example in Ibo
from african languages to ebonics
west african languages

niger and congo
acquisition of foreign vocabulary

maintains original morphology, phonology, grammar
more words and some grammar

pidginization
maintains original morphology and grammar
creolization
maintains morphology
englishization ± ebonics
maintains original communication style
maintains some lexical terms
Fig. 3. Mole® Kete Asante, Àfrican Elements in African-American English',

Africanisms in American Culture, ed. Joseph Holloway. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1990.
language (and often in krio) the third person singular, Ò', signi®es
both male and female (unlike the gendered English construction
which distinguishes between `he' and `she'). This disregard for
gender with respect to personal pronouns transforms the phrase
`Mary is in the cabin' to `Mary, he in the cabin'.24
paradigms of liberation: literary and linguistic

In the slave narratives which emerged in England and America
during the 1780s and 1790s, the manifestation of `diasporic' self-
re¯exivity posited a powerful challenge to theories which had
determined Africa as à land of childhood' lying beyond the day of
self-conscious history. The representation and enunciation of `self-
consciousness' within these narratives thereby promoted a recovery of
the scattered fragments of cultural identity ± a process which took
place by means of linguistic and literary metamorphoses of form
occasioned by cross-cultural contact. As these `creolised' and `hybri-
dised' texts asserted their speakers' marginalisation in relation to the
`host' culture, they proclaimed subversive strategies of revision, not
only of language, but of the social order itself.25 As codes of
liberation and empowerment, they presented a correlation between
discourses of emancipation and conversion and hence disclosed the
complex interrelationship between power and literacy, exempli®ed
by the `Massa' tales:
God let down two bundles `bout ®ve miles down de road. So de white man
and de nigger raced to see who would git there ®rst. Well, de nigger out-
run de white man and grabbed de biggest bundle . . . De white man . . .
picked up de li'l tee-ninchy bundle layin' in de road. When de nigger
opened up his bundle he found a pick and shovel and a hoe and a plow and
chop-axe and then de white man opened up his bundle and found a writin'-
pen and ink. So ever since then de nigger been out in de hot sun, usin' his
tools and de white man been sittin' up ®ggerin, ought's a ought, ®gger's a
®gger; all for de white man, none for de nigger.26
Heavily encoded with hieroglyphical schemas of displacement,
transformation and possibility, the linguistic con®gurations of the
diaspora inaugurated a literary discourse of cultural dispossession
and repossession. As the displaced identity recreated itself by a
complex system of semantic, syntactical linguistic structures and
sub-strata levels of meaning ùnavailable' to òther' listeners, a body
of narratives emerged which determined a paradigm of cultural
preservation within the diaspora and testi®ed to African cultural
development prior to European contact. As a consequence, the
symbolic world of black folklore and African belief systems was
maintained. In their preservation of paradigms of de®ance amidst
cultural hegemony, the tales of Brer Rabbit, Anansi (the Spider),
Tortoise and Hare delineated the means by which the dominant
order might be transformed and the African cultural legacy sus-
tained.27 In this way, the folktale victories of Anansi and Brer Rabbit
(by means of deceit, evasion and wit) functioned as linguistic models
of rebellion and subversion. As with the linguistic process of creolisa-
tion itself, the appropriation of these tales by western culture into the
(legitimised) forms of `Spiderman' and Peter Rabbit, implemented a
mutual process of exchange and cultural assimilation. The same
process of exchange and integration determined the slaves' articula-
tions (constructed and inherent) of the phenomenological operations
of the world and their role within it.
chapter six
The early slave narratives: Jupiter Hammon,

John Marrant and Ottobah Gronniosaw
When Israel was in Egypt's land,

Let my people go.
Oppressed so hard they could not stand,
Let my people go.
Go down, Moses
Way down in Egypt's land,
Tell ole Pharaoh, Let my People go.
(Negro Spiritual)
For those who had never known freedom, the language of the Bible
presented a viable discourse of liberation and reform, its metaphors
of salvation and freedom providing appropriate paradigms of
protest, rebellion and social transformation. However, the challenge
posed to those from the African diaspora was to ®nd a way of
reappropriating that text, which had played such a signi®cant role in
asserting the supremacy of the English language and culture.
Championed by the increasingly popular movement of radical
dissenting Protestantism, the discourse of the spirit enabled
àuthorised' declarations of ìndependence' which reached beyond
the peripheries of religious orthodoxy. As I shall argue below, this
mode of discourse witnessed a moment of cultural synthesis between
(rival) hermeneutical discourses, that is, between the west's Christia-
nised concept of the `holy spirit' and its divine agency, and African
spiritual epistemologies, including the belief in the transmigration of
souls. Hence, as `converted' slaves absorbed, or seemed to absorb,
the implicit message of impartial spiritual guidance, they trans-
formed Christian tenets of salvation into disruptive strategies for
radical social regeneration, claiming ìnspiration' from the spirit and
the scriptures as the key in¯uential forces behind their revolutionary
activity. Moreover, as religion, often unsuspectingly, `lent' its voice to
revolt and insurrection, slaves exposed the ambiguity behind certain
167
Christians' support of pro-slavery ideology and in so doing, high-
lighted the interrelationship between textual interpretation, herme-
neutics and power.
In his article, `Slave Songs and Slave Consciousness', Lawrence
Levine determined the identi®cation of slaves with the chosen
people, the children of Israel in Egypt, as `the most persistent image'
of negro spirituals. 1 Indeed, the various references to `pharaohs' and
èxodus', within this synthesis of discourses of conversion and
liberation, harboured coded messages about slave masters and plans
for escape into the promised land with the aid of `Moses' ®gures
such as the underground `railway' networker, Sojourner Truth.2 In
her essay, `Spirituals and Neo-Spirituals', Zora Neale Hurston
identi®ed the continued signi®cance of such songs in the twentieth
century, and de®ned them as `genuine spirituals' sung by black
groups in America and the Caribbean `bent on expression of
feelings'.3 In Tell My Horse (1938) and Moses, Man of the Mountain
(1939), Hurston prioritised the cultural signi®cance of references to
Moses in both Afro-American folklore and black spirituals. Mosaic
legends were not con®ned to Palestine or Egypt, but were found
throughout the Mediterranean and Africa. In tales from Africa
Moses ®gured alternately as `the fountain of mystic powers', the
original conjuror, and as the father of Damballa, his snake-like staff
providing a symbol of his power.4 The revised messages, signs and
symbols of the King James Bible therefore functioned as narratives
of empowerment rather than servitude. Likewise, when slaves sang
their `spirituals', references to the River Jordan described both the
mystical boundary between earth and heaven and the Ohio River
which marked the border between the free and the slave states.5
That boundary registered a critical moment of division and intersec-
tion between two distinct cultural schemas: African and Christian
epistemology, past and present lives or spirits.
As the framework advanced by dissenting Protestant spiritual
autobiographies found a continuum in the slave narratives which
appeared in England during the latter half of the eighteenth century,
established models of spiritual àwakening' underwent an essential
metamorphosis. The slave `conversion' narratives transformed the
moment of deliverance into a moment of conscious con®guration of
identity within the diaspora; they translated the paradigm of spiritual
deliverance into a schema of secular liberation and insurrection. In
their effort to posit the status of their author as `man', `brother' and
The early slave narratives 169
`truth-teller', slave narratives transformed the discourse of `spiritual
awakening' into a duplicitous discourse of polemical protest and
rebellion. Furthermore, they achieved a mapping of African episte-
mology on to the dynamics of radical dissenting Protestantism.
Consequently, the protean nature of the discourse of the spirit
enabled an intermediary dialogue between Africa and the west.
Hence the emphasis upon prophetic rapture and spiritual imma-
nence, found in the prophetic writings and spiritual autobiographies
of the eighteenth century, ®nds a fascinating counterpart in the
indigenous spiritual beliefs of Africa, and indeed their continuation
in the slave plantations of America and the West Indies.
Part of the `cultural baggage' which African slaves brought with
them to the New World was informed by their beliefs in the relation-
ship between man and man and between man and the gods.6 The
principal features of these included a belief in a remote supreme
being, worship of a pantheon of gods (non-human spirits), ancestor
worship and belief in the use of dreams and fetishes. 7 In his three-
volume work, A History of the West Indies, Thomas Coke described the
religious worship of the natives of the Leeward Islands in the
Caribbean as an àbyss of mental darkness', which displayed a
ùniform obedience to the injunctions of the zemi':
Like most other savage tribes, these islanders believed in a plurality of gods.
They conceived however that there was one, whose power was omnipotent,
and whose nature was immortal. To this God they ascribed creation . . .
But though they allowed of a supreme God . . . they conceived the
government of the world . . . to the management of inferior agents or genii,
which they called zemi . . . These malignant deities were not accessible to
the multitude without the intervention of the priest and caciques.8
Condescending though it is, Coke's discussion of the spiritual world
of the `zemi' identi®ed a key aspect of African epistemology within
the diaspora and its focus upon the ancestral spirits of the `living
dead'. Within this system, death signi®ed a process by which a
person is gradually removed from the `Sasa' period (that dimension
in which events are either about to happen or have recently
occurred) and enters into the `Zamani' (the ®nal store-house for all
phenomena, the òcean of time').9 Hence in African ontology, the
deceased is physically dead yet remains alive in the memories of
those who knew him. When there is no longer anyone alive who
remembers the living dead personally by name ± i.e. when such
beings have passed out of the Sasa period ± then the process of dying
is complete and such beings pass into the state of `collective'
immortality as spirits, occupying what Mbiti calls the òntological
state between God and man'.10
Together, Africans enslaved on plantations and runaway slaves
who assumed independence (in the West Indies these were known as
`maroons' from the French word maroon meaning `wild, untamed')
persisted in keeping the memory of African gods and ritual alive.11
Within their belief system, a special cast of magicians or physicians
claimed control of the supreme powers vested in the gods of healing
and the demons of disease. As Thomas Winterbottom, physician to
the Sierra Leone Company in 1792 noted, the practice of religious
ceremonies (`magical ceremonies and incantations') was often intri-
cately fused with the practice of medicine.12 Exaltation in language
and indulgence in physical and emotional ecstasy were prioritised, a
process more recently known as `receiving the spirit'. In African and
West Indian witchcraft, `myalism' denoted the formal possession by
the spirit of a dead ancestor and the dance performed under that
possession, whereas òbi or obeah' signi®ed the person or thing
exercising control and the practice of magic derived from it.13
Central to the religious practices of Africans, therefore, was the
ecstatic moment of spirit possession, the domination or control by
spirits, `vodu' being the term used for `the spirit' by the Fon in Ewe
language. Hence tales of `¯ying' or possessed Africans provided
cultural paradigms of liberation from slavery, in de®ance of factual
and historical determination.14 Whilst suicide constituted a cardinal
sin in Christian theology (hence its importance in Cowper's and
Newton's texts), death by drowning or hanging was considered by
many slaves preferable to slavery, as they connected such acts with a
belief in a possible return to their homeland, even after death.15
Whilst obeah originates from the practice and beliefs of the
Ashanti-Fanti tribes, voodoo originates from a system of beliefs with
origins in the Fon and Yoruba cultures of the Dahomey or modern
Benin region (where Equiano was born). Voodoo (from the Ewe
term `vodu', meaning `guardian spirit') involved communication by
trance with ancestors and animistic deities. Foremost amongst the
spiritual gods, or `loa', was Legba, the interpreter of the will of the
gods, then the `marasa' and the `dosu/a' (twins and the child born
after twins), and the dead. Voodoo ascribed a person two souls: a
personal soul (`gros-bon-ange') and the `m'ait-tete loa' which
entered a person during the ®rst possession. These were joined
together for life until separated by death, at which time the gros-
bon-ange returns to its home in the waters below the earth and the
m'ait-tete loa is inherited by the children of the deceased.16
As with the moment of spirit possession described by the
eighteenth-century radical dissenting Protestants, in voodoo belief,
during the mystical experience of possession by the voodoo loa or
spirit, the person possessed speaks and acts for that loa. Like the
subversive, radical elements of the English tradition of prophetic and
confessional writings, voodoo extended to insurrectionary propor-
tions. The eighteenth-century voodoo chant (`we sweat to destroy
the whites') prescribed a negation of slave ideology, `changa batio
te', as did the voodoo ceremony orchestrated on the eve of the
uprising which broke out in the French Caribbean colony of St
Domingue in August 1791.17 In Part Three of the extended Report of
the Lords of the Committee of the Council Appointed for the Consideration of all
Matters to Trade and Foreign Plantation (1789), comprised of over 1200
pages, the means by which obeahs caused death and injury were
discussed at length: À veil of mystery is studiously thrown over their
incantations, to which the midnight hours are allotted, and every
precaution is taken to conceal them from the knowledge and
discovery of the white people'.18 According to the Report, in 1775 a
planter had returned to Jamaica to ®nd that a great many of his
slaves had died during his absence and that of those that remained
alive, half were `debilitated, bloated, and in a very deplorable
condition'.19 In an effort to prohibit obeah practice, the ®rst
approved Code Noir of Jamaica, con®rmed in January 1699, suggested
that in order to reduce the number of fatal poisonings, the `bloody
and inhuman transactions' which took place during slave gatherings
ought to be prohibited.20 Likewise, clause XLIX of the Àct to
Repeal Several Acts and Clauses' (Dec. 1784) of the Acts of the
Assembly. Passed in the Island of Jamaica, from 1770 to 1783, Inclusive stated
that àny Negro or other slave' who pretended to àny supernatural
power' would suffer either death or transportation.21 Accordingly, in
his Twelvemonths Residence in the West Indies, During the Transition from
Slavery to Apprenticeship, R. R. Madden (from the parish of St
Andrews) recorded the sentence and subsequent transportation of
the female slave, Sarah, for `having in her possession cat's teeth . . .
and other materials, relative to the practice of Obeah, to delude and
impose on the mind of the Negroes'.22 In hoodoo, a variant of
voodoo, the major underlying belief is that of a dual division of the
world of causes ± that is, a spiritual counterpart to every physical
object and action. Hoodoo belief maintains that to deal with the
physical cause only is to partially administer treatment ± the spiritual
reality must be attended to by a root doctor or conjuror whose
exorcising of the lingering spirit will enable complete healing. 23
Accordingly, the collective terms `hoodoo' and `conjure' stem from
traditional beliefs in the magical power of a conjuror, root, or
hoodoo doctor to alter psychic and physical conditions, a system
which ranged from the basic administration of sympathetic magic to
the intricacies of a highly complicated religious system.
In his discussion of obeah and Romantic culture, Alan Richardson
makes it clear that by the end of the eighteenth century, these
religious beliefs as they were practised by black slaves in the British
West Indies had become notoriously familiar to the British reading
and play-going public.24 Given the prominence and popularity of
works by Africans living in late eighteenth-century Britain (such as
Phillis Wheatley, Olaudah Equiano and others discussed below) and
the reference to African religious systems in the works of Robert
Southey, it appears that the `contact zone' between Romanticism
and black writing had clearly been established by the end of the
century. Popularised by plays such as Obi; or, Three Finger'd Jack
(which was ®rst performed at the Theatre Royal in Convent Garden,
London in July 1800), tales such as Charlotte Smith's `The Story of
Henrietta' (1800) and Maria Edgeworth's `Belinda' (1790), and lyrics
such as William Shepherd's `The Negro's Incantation' published in
the Monthly Magazine July 1797, these interpretations of West African
religion were translated not only from Africa to the Caribbean but
into the heart of British culture.25 As Richardson notes, the
Romantic (and indeed British) concern with obeah re¯ected Britain's
ànxieties regarding power', most especially the ¯uctuations of
imperial power as Britain, France and Spain vied for dominance in
the Caribbean. Just as importantly, it also registered Britain's
concern over the slaves' power to determine their own fates, as
events in the Caribbean had shown.26 Like its counterpart, voodoo,
the practice of obeah demonstrated the degree of resistance and
insurrection amongst slaves and their `continued' forms of cultural
organisation and communication.
One of the most powerful transcriptions of obeah practice by a
British poet occurs in Shepherd's `Negro Incantation' of 1797.
Shepherd's poem provides a powerful testament to the moment of
colonial con¯ict, manifested in psychological, cognitive and episte-
mological terms. Linked directly by the poet to the formidable
insurrections of Jamaican black slaves in 1760 (known as `Tacky's
Revolt'), Shepherd's poem acknowledges the preservation of African
cults and belief systems within the Caribbean and highlights their
essential role in the slaves' insurrectionary plots. Congo, the reposi-
tory of obeah power, hails the `spirits of the swarthy dead' (line 5)
and prepares `with magic rites the white man's doom' (12), thereby
prophesying an end to British colonial expansionism and slavery via
divine (black) retribution and revolt:
From mouldering graves we stole this hallow'd earth,
Which, mix'd with blood, winds up the mystic charm;
Wide yawns the grave for all of northern birth,
And soon shall smoke with blood the sable warrior's arm.27
In 1863, the American Freedman's Inquiry Commission con-
ducted a vast series of interviews with slaves; and between 1936 and
1938, the Works Progress Administration interviewed over 2,000
former slaves.28 Many of these interviews con®rm the slaves' pre-
servation of African cults on the plantations, and include references
to the `frolics' and nocturnal prayer meetings which took place
either in slave cabins or in clearings in the woods, during which
slaves would gather to sing, shout and `get happy'. Slaves such as
Adeline Cunningham, born in Texas, and Ellen Butler (born in
Louisiana, 1859) recollected the interrelationship between spiritual
discourse and linguistic models of emancipation:
No suh, we never goes to church. Times we sneaks in de woods and prays
de Lawd to make us free and times one of the slaves got happy and made a
noise dat dey heerd at da big house and den de overseer come and whip us
`cause we prayed de Lawd to set us free . . . Massa never 'lowed us slaves to
go to church but they have big holes in the ®elds they gits down in and
prays. They done that way 'cause the white folks didn't want them to pray.
They used to pray for freedom.29
Dialogues with spirits and conjure women continued to play an
important role in slave societies of the West Indies and America, as
Harriet Collins, an ex-slave, explained:
Dere been some queer things white folks can't understand. Dere am folkses
can see de spirits, but I can't. My mammy learned me a lots of doctorin',
which she larnt from old folkses from Africy, and some de Indians larnt
her.30
Hoodoo and voodoo therefore helped to preserve the precious
fragments of cultural legacy within the diaspora and continued a
process of resistance against the plantocracy, demonstrated by the
Caribbean slave revolt led by a voudoun priest in 1791 and Nat
Turner's rebellion of 1831.
In his excellent study of the colony of Jamaica during the ®rst half
of the nineteenth century, Two Jamaicas: The Role of Ideas in a Tropical
Colony, 1830±1865, Philip Curtin traced the historical development of
Afro-Christian sects in Jamaica from 1830, when several hundred
United Empire Loyalists emigrated from America with their
slaves.31 As syntheses of orthodox Christianity and African cult
groups developed, various `Native Baptist' congregations evolved,
the most prominent of which emerged under the leadership of
independent black preachers such as Baptist Moses Baker (who had
a following of approximately 3,000) and the ex-slaves, George Lisle
(or Leile) and George Lewis. Both Lisle and Lewis vehemently
opposed traditional Christianity and prioritised their own African-
styled belief systems.32 During these early native Baptist meetings,
which were often conducted in patois, African beliefs reappeared in
Christian guise. As a result of this `transition', emphasis lay
particularly on the workings of `the spirit' and upon a corresponding
attitude of suspicion towards the written word. As with the call and
response and `shouts' characteristic of African initiation rites,
followers were required to be possessed òf the spirit' before baptism
was administered:
This meant that the `spirit' had to descend on the applicant in a dream,
which was then described to the leader. If the dream were satisfactory, the
applicant could enter the class. There evolved a regular technique and
ceremonial for bringing on spirit-possession.33
Missionaries in the colonies faced serious competition from

African rival cults as the popularity of African myal religions
continued, despite being made illegal, and the practice of myalism
and obeah continued to ¯ourish.34 In this way, the process of Afro-
Christian synthesis and the development of what I have termed the
`discourse of the spirit' continued to function as a vehicle of
insurrection and cultural preservation. By 1830, Native Baptist sects
were established as powerful means of preserving cultural identity
within the diaspora, de®antly competing with the ideological frame-
work imposed by Christian missionaries (who occupied a tenuous
position in Jamaican society, simultaneously denounced by planto-
crats as slave allies and perceived by slaves as perpetrators of racist
ideology). Nevertheless on the plantations, intrinsic elements of
Christianity such as preaching, hymn-singing, fervent Christian
phraseology and `prophesying' in the name of the Christian God
were appropriated by African belief systems through a complex
process of `cultural' miscegenation. By the 1830s, the Wesleyan
Methodist Missionary Society had achieved one of the largest
dissenting slave congregations in Jamaica; however they continued
to maintain an apolitical stance and to preserve strict caste systems
within their chapels. Other sects, such as the Baptists and the
Moravian Brethren were almost entirely devoted to the conversion
of the slave population to orthodox Christianity. By the time of the
®nal surge of missionary activity, the Great Evangelical Revival of
1860±1861 had, in Curtin's words, `turned African' in its complex
fusion of myalism and Christianity.35 This synthesis had however,
originally occurred over half a century earlier, in the `discourse of
the spirit' presented in the narratives by ex-slaves and in their
literary articulations of spirit possession, `prophesying' and initiation
rites.
displacement and diaspora: the slave narratives

as autobiographies
As articulations of the complex dialectics involved in the con®gura-
tions of identity within the diaspora, narratives published by slaves
posited a mulatto-discourse, a third, hybrid term which synchronised
two distinct, and often antithetical, cultural ideologies. From such
`marginalised' sites, these mulatto-texts ®gured both a process of
assimilation and of counter-language. Sustained by the mechanisms
of imaginative transformation, yet never completely severed from a
remembrance of the past, these literary manifestations of the
diaspora emerged, demanding that they be met, considered, and
evaluated on their own terms.
According to the OED, the term àutobiography' evolved with
Robert Southey's ®rst usage of it in 1809. However, autobiographi-
cal-style narratives by slaves had been published in England and
America almost three decades earlier, usually pre®xed by terms such
as `Life of ', `History of ', Àdventures of ' and so on. As constructed
con®gurations of identity, these slave narratives established a
relationship between individual and cultural àutobiography' (nation-
writing), that is, between narratives of the self/African selves, their
cultural past and their position in the diaspora. In the late 1960s,
Foucault identi®ed the emergence of the term àutobiography' as
coincidental with what he described as the ànthropological' pro-
cesses of western culture. Sigmund Freud's analysis of the un-
conscious drew upon a discourse which merged tenets of
autobiography (life-writing) with anthropological concepts, such as
`fetishisation', and hence translated the dichotomy between an
extended framework of the individual self and culturally determined
òthers' into a schema of the conscious and the subconscious self.
Likewise, the intersection between autobiographical disclosure and
the discourse of the spirit disclosed within the slave narratives ®nds
an appropriate site within the world of dreams, that realm of the
unconscious (or `spirit') whose mechanisms cannot be rationally
de®ned.
When one approaches the slave narratives as examples of auto-
biography, it must be remembered that like all forms of auto-
biography, these `confessional' testimonies existed both as
unrestrained, personal utterances and as highly self-conscious lit-
erary performances. In addition, they were consciously aimed at
public consumption and intrinsically shaped by editorial inter-
vention, a factor which destabilises the concept of the `pure'
autobiographical form. Furthermore, the translation of experience
into a literary form was also problematised by the peculiarly
ambivalent status of the ex-slave author, as an entity both with and
without rights (political or editorial) in the diaspora. James Olney's
pertinent questions concerning the mysterious and formalised lit-
erary genre of autobiography itself must clearly be taken into
consideration when applied to the literary productions by slaves
emergent in the latter half of the eighteenth century:
What do we mean by the self . . . (autos)? What do we mean by life (bios)?
What signi®cance do we impute to the act of writing (graphe) ± what is the
signi®cance and the effect of transforming life, or a life, into a text?36
If, as I have argued above, the literary narratives by slaves may be

seen as complex articulations of identities enmeshed within the
dynamics of the diaspora, as `creolised' testimonials by `selves' who
had undergone unprecedented historical, psychological and cultural
dispossession, then how do we as readers determine an appropriate
starting point for our analyses, in terms of both culture and
historicity? If autobiography, by its very de®nition, represents an
effort to resolve the problematics of identity, of self-de®nition and of
self-existence, how should we begin to analyse texts proffered by
those whose very identity had been erased, linguistically, legally and
ideologically from the social order? Likewise, how should we
approach such discourses of the `self ', given that the subject status of
that articulating `self ' had previously been negated or obliterated by
alternate discourses, such as that of the written word or the Law?
As a partial answer, I would suggest that we approach these
narratives with caution, as textual con®gurations of identity, frag-
mented by upheavals of history and as intricate disclosures of
cultural miscegenation, in terms of their syntheses of diverse cultural
ideologies and beliefs. If, as Olney has argued, autobiography by
de®nition can never reach completion, since the self or `bios' must
always remain incomplete, that is, àlways in process', then we must
in turn see these autobiographical texts as narratives essentially
hinged upon the dynamics of a culturally hybrid consciousness of the
black diaspora. We must see them, therefore, as complex articula-
tions of incessant migration, continuous ¯ight and ceaseless move-
ment ± that is, as narratives of the processes of translation and
transference experienced by the suspended status of the diasporic
identity. Furthermore, I would suggest that in order to contemplate
these `narratives', we must approach with a caution which allows for
the inherent possibilities of irony, counter-discourse and assimilation
at the heart of these texts, and which recognises that the collective
term `slave narrative' is used, for want of a better term, to group
together narratives written by those born in Africa, in the colonies
and indeed, by those for whom `slavery' was a ®ction, or rather a
convenient metaphor for post-abolition reality. These narratives
were variously edited, dictated or composed `by' former slaves who
had found their way to freedom in conjunction with Christian
philanthropists or abolitionist ghostwriters or indeed, by those blacks
or anonymous `white' authors who had themselves never experi-
enced slavery and for whom self-expression involved a mixture of
voluntary and involuntary literary and polemical tactics.
By assuming the discourse of the (Christian) spirit, the authenticity
and the liberation of both the speaker and his/her narrative was
validated under the aegis of self-examination and divine appoint-
ment. As the slave narrator posited him/herself as his/her own
historian (albeit whose text was èdited' by another), the àct' of
memory, either ®ctitious or real, enabled the autobiographer to
`recover and redeem lost time by ®xing it forever'. This prioritisation
of àcts of memory' was also demonstrated within the works of the
Romantic poets (see Chapter 3). Coleridge's conversation poem,
`This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison', and Wordsworth's Prelude signal
the role of memory in terms of their authentication of the subject's
past, present and future selves. Yet in both these examples, the
emphasis is upon the individual rather than the community.
`Memory' therefore, insofar as the Romantics are concerned, is
egocentric and solitary; for the slaves however, such acts of memory
bore witness to a shared cultural past. This enabled the slave
narrator to write his/her life as a uni®ed expression of an entire
(cultural and historical) destiny, premised on individual, collective
and political liberty (the `chosen one') and infused with the power to
interpret and mediate with the spiritual world.37 Hence for the slave
narrator, the àct of remembering' constituted a complex act of
reconciliation between past and present, a means of situating what
one was (culturally and spiritually) with what one had become within
the mechanisms of diaspora and personal destiny:
In the act of remembering the past in the present, the autobiographer
imagines into existence another person, another world, and surely it is not
the same, in any real sense, as that past world that does not, under any
circumstances, nor however much we may wish it, now exist.38
For these slave narrators therefore, `recollection' constituted an act

of cultural historiography: a reassembly of a past extended self,
within a world that had de®ned that self as without history and
without consciousness. However, as most critics of autobiography
would agree, autobiography functions not merely as a recollection of
one's life, but as a ®ction, an artifact, a construct in which experience
is ®ctionalised and one framework prioritised over all others.39 For
the slave, the climactic point of this prioritised framework, the
moment of spiritual/cultural conversion, also ®gured as a moment
of self-liberation in which the narrator broke free from the shackles
of his/her father/master and past cultural identity, and emerged as a
newly formed self.
Consequently, textual analysis of the slave narratives must involve
an examination of what is not articulated by the text, that is, those
textual blindspots, silences and erasures which reveal the highly
complex relationship between the reader and the author. In other
words, those moments of intersection and radical departure from the
reader's (cultural and ideological) assumptions, and those moments
of opacity contained within such seemingly transparent narratives of
disclosure. Accordingly, whereas I agree generally with Mendel's
suggestion that autobiography depends upon `shared assumptions
of culture', I would suggest that the autobiographical narratives by
slaves present us with moments when the reverse is true ± that is,
when such (Christian or African) assumptions cannot be assumed
as `shared', when the very bedrocks of cultural identity are
destabilised.40
Likewise, such an investigation raises questions over authorship
and motive, the dynamics of editorial control, audience expectation
and political agenda. And this in turn prompts us to question the
motifs behind the considerable number of imitative or `hoax' slave
narratives which emerged in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth
centuries, including Thomas Bluett's Some Memoirs of the Life of Job, the
son of Solomon (1734), Robert Norris' Memoirs of the Reign of Bossa
Ahadee, King of Dahomey (1789) and The Narrative of the Travels of John
Ishmael Augustus James, an African of the Mandingo Tribe, who was
Captured, Sold into Slavery and Subsequently Liberated by a Benevolent English
Gentleman (1836).41 Certainly texts such as R.W. Loane's Authentic
Narrative of the Late Fortunate Escape of R.W. Loane (1805) and George
Vason's Authentic Narrative of Four Years' Residence at Tongataboo (1810)42
reveal a semi-pornographic and quasi-anthropological agenda under
the guise of the `confessional' captivity genre.43 Other `hoax' texts
such as Joanna, or the Female Slave. A West Indian Tale (1824) provided a
platform for anti-emancipatory polemic at odds with the abolitionist
agenda characteristic of a majority of the slave narratives:
The Abolition of Slavery bears so much upon Humanity, that to discuss the
subject upon principles which can be acted upon, seems to infer a want of
that divine attribute. Nevertheless, General Emancipation must appear to
every re¯ecting mind a measure neither practicable nor advisable;
therefore, leaving Emancipation to time, which it will take, it is wiser and
better to look for a remedy for the present impending evils where it may be
found ± in the abolition of cruelty.44
In entering the slave autobiographer's world, we enter a world
conscious of its need to perform and promote narratives of truths
(cultural and historical) under the guise of divine witness. It is at this
awkward juncture that the discourse of the `spirit' comes into play, as
the private utterances of the slaves appropriated the framework of
ùnorthodox' Evangelical fervour. While these narratives advocated
a shared revivalist agenda, they simultaneously advanced a `counter-
commentary' of unsevered allegiance to alterity, and a synthesis of
cultural epistemologies based upon systems of belief, space and
temporality.
For eighteenth-century radical dissenting prophets, Romantics
and slave narrators alike, the act of autobiography manifested an
effort to recapture, in words, a lost paradisiacal happiness and to
reconcile, however tenuously, that past self with the present self. In
writing their selves, the slave narrators endeavoured to transform
both a preslavery culture and the `post-African' diasporic self into a
textual form, in narratives both liberated from and imprisoned by
the possibilities and limits of western language and ideology.
Therefore, as slaves translated the process of `becoming' from an
oral to a written culture, their narratives ®gured the violent
ùnbecomings' of alternative texts which had prescribed their
condition as slaves and inferiors. Within these autobiographies, the
message of peaceful `spiritual' transformation vies unresolvedly with
subtextual declarations and con¯icting hypotheses of radical social
transformation. At once dependent upon, and at odds with the very
ideology held by their white audience, these hybridised texts
presented a trope of miscegenation and cultural assimilation, con-
current with a trope of radical departure from the dominant
ideology.45
mulatto discourses: christianity and early slave

literature
To translate:
To interpret or infer the signi®cance of (gestures, symbols etc.).
To transform or convert, e.g. to translate hope into reality.
To move or carry from one place or position to another.
(Theological) To transfer (a person) from one place or plane of
existence to another, as from earth to heaven.
(Archaic) To bring to a state of spiritual or emotional ecstasy.
(Collins English Dictionary)
As W. E. B. Du Bois' much quoted passage from The Souls of Black
Folk suggests, the cultural historiography of the African diaspora has
been predominantly in¯uenced by a framework premised upon
binary oppositions of cultural difference, which established the
diasporic identity as an embodiment of cultural polarity residing
within the complex site of dialectical opposition:
The Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second-
sight in this American world, ± a world which yields him no true self-
consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the
other world. It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense
of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring
one's soul by the tape of the world that looks on in amused contempt and
pity. One ever feels this two-ness, ± an American, a Negro; two souls, two
thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body,
whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.46
For Hortense Spillers, the condition of diaspora manifests itself as a
reiteration of an unending moment of transition, or middle passage
between two cultures, a state of psychological and sensory depri-
vation, in which one's former identity becomes culturally ùnmade'
and autonomous individuals are transformed into captive persons,
literally suspended in the òceanic', `nowhere at all'.47 For VeÂveÂ Clark,
the nature of cultural transition ®nds an appropriate symbolic
expression within the `marasa trois' of voudoun signi®cation. The
`marasa trois' describes the cultural entity which emerges metaphori-
cally as a reformation of form, a revision of the `marasa', the Haitian
term for the twin cult, a mythical theory based on the voudoun sign
for the capricious orphans, the Divine twins.48 In traditional West
African cults, children born with abnormal characteristics or during
any unusual circumstances received very different treatment to their
peers: twins born to the Ibo, Delta and Cameron tribes were
despised and often killed, whereas within the Yoruba and Guinea
coast tribes of Africa they were worshipped.49 Accordingly, whereas
the `marasa' ostensibly attributes a binary form, generative readings
of that sign focus upon the child born sequentially after the twins and
the creation of the unit termed `marasa trois'. In Yoruba belief
systems, the child born after the twins (the dosu) emerges as a far
more powerful entity than its predecessors. For Clark, therefore, the
marasa trois determines ànother form of creativity' which traces a
deconstructive path between the binary schema, whilst marasa
consciousness provides an appropriate model for cross-cultural
contact and con®gurations of identity within the diaspora.
In an effort to expand and revise Spiller's model of ùndifferen-
tiated identity' and Clark's concept of `diasporic literacy' ± that is, to
identify the reformative narrative strategies within literatures of
Africa, Afro-America and the Caribbean as `deconstructions of
mastery' ± the literary utterances of the diasporic identity are here
determined as the products of `cultural miscegenation'. Therefore,
the poetical and prosaic works by slaves published in England during
the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century are presented as
evidence of the translation of one cultural network into another by a
complex process of synchronous assimilation and appropriation.
As identi®ed by the black preacher, John Marrant, who lamented
the failure of his `stammering tongue' and the ex-slave, Henry Bibbs,
who despaired of ®nding a language to èxpress adequately' the
history of his past and the ambivalence of his present, language
proved to be both a problematic obstacle and a vehicle of disclosure
in the slaves' endeavour to translate the ambiguity of their socio-
economic and legal status into `declarations of independence'. 50 By
means of their appropriation of the discourse of the spirit, character-
istic of the Evangelical Revival which swept England during the
latter half of the eighteenth century, blacks attempted to secure the
Bible as a common mythological framework and thereby reestablish
its hermeneutical capacity as a primary custodian of Afrocentric
cultural ideologies. The aim of the latter part of this study therefore,
is to establish the emergent autobiographical voice of the diasporic
identity revealed by the slave narratives. In so doing, these texts are
located as complex revisions of radical dissenting Protestantism and
are identi®ed as revealing an important intersection with the works
of radical prophets and the Romantic poets in their poetic articula-
tions of the liberated self ± sancti®ed and redeemed ± within the
parameters of `spiritualised' discourse.51
By engaging with the Scriptures as a form of (cultural) intertext,
black autobiographical texts such as Briton Hammon's Narrative of the
Uncommon Sufferings, and Surprising Deliverance (Boston, 1760) and John
Marrant's A Narrative of the Lord's Wonderful Dealings (London, 1785),
offered a revised paradigm of the spiritual framework and (re)estab-
lished the biblical pact between Jehovah and the diasporic identity,
drawn from the Old Testament. In their complex revision of
Scripture, these early black autobiographical texts challenged the
hegemonic status of the master discourse (the Law) and its institutio-
nalised form (slavery) by propounding an intermediate narrative: that
of the discourse of the spirit. Consequently, such texts ushered a
radical departure from an ideological (legal and colonial) `master'
discourse which had sought to make them `dis(re)membered' and
disenfranchised, and endeavoured to remaster the symbolic form by
duplicating, deconstructing and revising its narrative posture.
Slave narratives, therefore, such as those by the black spiritual
evangelists, Jarena Lee, Phillis Wheatley and Olaudah Equiano,
(re)presented the lives of their authors as secular ®gurations of
Scriptural mythoi within the framework of Protestant redemption
narratives. This endeavour to articulate the diasporic identity within
the parameters of spiritual autobiography found contemporaneous
parallels within the dynamics of early Protestant narratives (most
especially those by women such as Southcott), yet also represented
an attempt to mitigate boundaries of cultural distance and/or
historical alienation.52 By tracing their authors' journeys towards
secular and social freedom, these early `conversion' narratives
posited the acquisition of spiritual awakening as an af®rmation of
divine election through the unequivocal workings of the Holy Spirit.
Hence these narratives registered the diasporic identity's profound
sense of dichotomy and duplicity, in terms of its ambivalent status as
both object (slave/cultural other) and subject (speaker/assimilated
self ). This sense of discrepancy anticipates the Romantic poet's focus
upon the disjuncture between the internal and external self, and
continues the interface between word and text, ¯esh and spirit
presented by eighteenth-century prophets. In an effort to eradicate
concepts of difference based on theories of racial hierarchy, these
slave narratives heralded their `dispossessed speakers' as newly
`possessed', as bearers of the Word, as literal embodiments of the
(deviant) discourse of the spirit.
jupiter hammon: ànd ye shall know the truth and

the truth shall make you free' 5 3
Our slavery will be at an end, and . . . we shall sit with God in his
kingdom, as Kings and Priests, and rejoice for ever and ever.54
In the broadside printed in New York in 1760 entitled Àn Evening
Thought: Salvation by Christ with Penitential Cries', the concept of
`salvation' is continuously emphasised throughout the poetical text
by the black preacher, Jupiter Hammon, who served the Lloyd
family of Long Island as a slave until the death of Henry Lloyd in
1763: `Salvation comes by Jesus Christ alone, / The only Son of
God; / Redemption now to every one, / That love his holy Word
. . . / Salvation now comes from the Lord, / He being thy captive
slave . . . / It is ®rmly ®xt his holy Word, / Ye shall not cry in vain'.55
In the years that witnessed America's bid for independence from
England, Hammon, born a slave on 17 October 1711, composed a
series of poetical works which heralded a merger of the dynamics of
the diasporic identity with Christian tenets of deliverance and
salvation. As Hammon's text was published while he was still the
possession of the Lloyd family of Long Island, any suggestion of an
overt abolitionist schema continued within Hammon's text would
have been mitigated by the conditions enabling the publication of
his work. Hence, although Hammon's texts incorporate an extension
of scriptural mythoi on to the conditions of blacks, they also witness
a fragmented, inchoate transference of salvational rhetoric on to
schemas of abolition.56 In his second publication, the poetical Address
to Miss Phillis Wheatley, Ethiopian Poetess in Boston (`who came from
Africa . . . and soon became acquainted with the Gospel of Jesus
Christ') which was published in August 1778 (®ve years after the
publication of Wheatley's volume of poems), Hammon posited the
process of `transition' as both a geographical procedure (from Africa
to America) and a metaphorical movement which brought about a
transformation of cultural signi®cation, the poet's value as a slave,
and her subsequent value as a convert to Christianity. Accordingly,
Hammon's text identi®ed the interrelationship between the commer-
cial apparatus of the middle passage and the various processes of
pilgrimage, salvation and conversion:
God's tender mercy brought thee here:
Tost o'er the raging main;
In Christian faith thou hast a share,
Worth all the gold of Spain.
While thousands tossed by the sea,
And others settled down
God's tender mercy set thee free,
From dangers still unknown.57
In his ®nal publication, An Address to the Negroes of the State of New York
(1787), Hammon combined the dynamics of scriptural discourse with
a distinctly ambiguous liberationist agenda. Whereas on one level,
Hammon's text appeared to advocate a condition of passivity and
unquestioning obedience, on another, his Address revealed a subtle
integration of intertextual discourse concerning the inalienable
rights of liberty: Ì am certain that while we are slaves, it is our duty
to obey our masters in all their lawful commands, and mind them,
unless we are bid to do that which we know to be sin'. Hammon's text
endeavoured to prioritise a common cultural identity between
himself and his audience, emphasising his loyalty to his fellow slaves
as Àfricans by nation' rather than as representatives of disparate
tribes:
I think you will be more likely to listen to what is said, when you know it
comes from a Negro, one of your own nation and colour and [sic] therefore
can have no interest in deceiving you, or in saying any thing to you but
what he really thinks is your interest, and duty to comply with.58
At times, Hammon's use of spiritual discourse appears to con®rm a
distinct complicity with white cultural hegemony in its ambivalent
deployment of anti-liberationist propaganda: Ìf you become Chris-
tians, you will have reason to bless God for ever . . . though you have
been slaves'.59 Hence, although Hammon acknowledges that `liberty
is a great thing' and worth seeking for, he propounds an `honest'
means of securing it: that is, by slaves convincing their masters that
their `good conduct' ought to be rewarded by their freedom.60 In
addition, Hammon asserts, probably as an acknowledgement of the
conditions of publication, that he does not wish to be set free,
although he would welcome the liberation of other young blacks.
Nonetheless, recognising the protean power of Christian discourse,
Hammon, like Coleridge, invites his audience to contemplate spiritual
`salvation' as a necessary prerequisite to temporal deliverance. By
comparing the condition of the slaves in America with that of the
Israelites of the Old Testament, Hammon's text prophesies the
divine deliverance of the slaves as God's chosen people:
Stand still and see the salvation of God, cannot that same power that divided the
waters from the waters for the children of Israel to pass through, make way
for your freedom, and I pray that God would grant your desire, and that he
may give you grace to seek that freedom, and I pray that God would grant
your freedom which tendeth to eternal life.61
At the same time, however, Hammon suggests that both slavery and
freedom are preordained, God-given: `Getting our liberty in this
world is nothing to our having the liberty of the children of God':
My Brethren, many of us are seeking a temporal freedom, and I wish you
may obtain it; remember that all power in heaven and on earth belongs to
God; if we are slaves it is by the permission of God, if we are free it must be
by the power of the most high God.62
Ultimately, Hammon's tenuous call for social transformation pivots
around the belief that whites ought to ful®l their role as enlightened
liberators whilst, as God's chosen people, blacks ought to uphold
their covenant with God:
If we should ever get to Heaven, we shall ®nd nobody to reproach us for
being black, or for being slaves. Let me beg of you, my dear African
brethren, to think very little of your bondage in this life; for your thinking
of it will do you no good. If God designs to set us free, he will do it in his
own time and way . . . [Yet] I must say that I have hoped that God would
open their [white people's] eyes, when they were so much engaged for
liberty, to think of the state of the poor blacks, and to pity us. He has done it
in some measure . . . [but] what may be done further, he only knows.63
As a result, his text ambiguously ricochets between a critique of the
inconsistencies inherent in white liberationist ideology and an
endorsement of passive adherence to black socioeconomic depri-
vation. Thus Hammon's text describes a crucial yet embryonic phase
in the fusion of Christian rhetoric with liberationist ideology. In its
emphasis upon the tenets of `salvation', Hammon's work anticipates
the heterogeneous development of the `discourse of the spirit'
contained within the slave narratives published in England in the
late eighteenth and early nineteenth century.
john marrant: cultural interlocutor

Born of free black parents in New York on 15 June 1755, John
Marrant's Narrative of the Lord's Wonderful Dealings with John Marrant, a
Black was published in London in 1785 by the Reverend William
Aldridge, the non-conformist minister at the Calvinist-Methodist
Jewry Street Chapel who had trained at the Countess of Hunting-
don's College in Treveccain, South Wales.64 The Countess of
Huntingdon, Selina Hastings (dedicatee of the slave narratives by
Gronniosaw and Phillis Wheatley discussed below) had converted to
Methodism in the 1730s and had provided the ®nancial costs of
establishing a loose `connexion' of Methodist congregations in
England and Ireland. Three years before Marrant's text was pub-
lished, she and her follows were declared dissenters and forced to
secede from the Anglican Church. Published prior to his departure
for Nova Scotia, where he intended to preach the gospel, Marrant's
text underwent ®ve successive editions in the same year, with further
editions published in London, Dublin, Halifax, Leeds, Wales and
Connecticut.65 In his book, The Signifying Monkey, Henry Louis Gates
interpreted Marrant's tale principally in terms of its revision of what
he terms the `trope of the talking book'. In this study, I intend to
examine Marrant's relationship with what I have termed the
`discourse of the spirit'.
In his Preface to the second edition of A Narrative of the Lord's
Wonderful Dealings with John Marrant, the Revd Aldridge claimed that
Marrant's conversion narrative was `taken down from his [Mar-
rant's] own Relation', albeit Àrranged, Corrected and Published' by
the good Reverend himself. Indeed, whereas the editor claims to
have àlways preserved Mr. Marrant's ideas', Aldridge adds, almost
as an after-thought, that he could not reproduce `his language'.66
This distinction between the language used by the slave narrator to
describe his/her experience and the language used in turn by the
amanuensis editor to transcribe, edit and preface the slave's àuto-
biography' highlights another form of `miscegenation' that was
involved in the editorial process. As William Andrews points out, this
job of `selecting, arranging and assigning signi®cation' to the facts of
the narrator's life lay in the editor's hands.67 Hence, whilst the
protean nature of spiritual discourse presented a convenient site for
radical, abolitionist polemic, it also constrained the slave's narrative
into a series of conventions. The conversion format presented
readers with a familiar, acceptable and easily recognisable form of
narrative and therefore established an intricate rapport with its
audiences' beliefs. As a result, the narrator/editor relationship
shifted and dispersed the centre of the autobiographical text into a
pluralised narrative, which sidetracked the issue of slavery or indeed
racial miscegenation itself. It was the editor who would decide which
`facts' would be included and how they would be related. Given such
constraints, the slaves' own critiques of Christian ideology, and
indeed the editorial process itself, are dif®cult to locate. Where these
`gaps' or chasms do exist they are subdued and muf¯ed. What was
clearly highlighted was the religious and abolitionist agenda which
the editor/author felt would satisfy the expectations of a certain type
of audience.68
Examining texts in order to reveal what is àbsent' is, as one
would expect, particularly dif®cult. But I would suggest that these
gaps or silenced utterances of the text may be seen to reveal a
deviation from Christian epistemology. If this is so, then these
narratives may be seen to `speak' not only to a white Christian
audience but to fellow blacks in the diaspora. Therefore, whilst I
would agree in part with Andrews' suggestion that the slave narra-
tives were intended to celebrate the `black's acculturation into the
established categories of the white social and literary order',
Marrant's texts also hint at a dimension which lies beyond that of
the Judeo-Christian tradition.69 Subtle though it is, Marrant's text
begins to speak of an alternative African epistemological system ± an
aspect which becomes more apparent in some of the later slave texts.
There is accordingly a note of tension between the implied author of
Marrant's text and its àctual' author. Although the conversion
model endeavoured to encourage a rejection of Marrant's past
beliefs, the process is contravened at signi®cant moments in the
narrative.
According to Aldridge, Marrant's narrative is às plain and artless'
as it is `surprising and extraordinary', and he identi®es the text as a
narrative of facts revealing the author's various `deliverances', inci-
dences which he claims `strike the heart' in their display of the
`power, grace and providence of God':
He and his companion enter the meeting at Charles-Town together; but
the one is taken, and the other is left. He is struck to the ground, shaken
over the mouth of hell, snatched as a brand from the burning; he is
pardoned and justi®ed; he is washed in the atoning blood, and made happy
in his God.70
At the very outset of the text, Marrant himself, or rather the

Marrant àrranged and corrected' by Aldridge, determines the
spiritual motif of his text as an overt continuum of literary Evangeli-
cal fervour, declaring that he wished `these gracious dealings of the
Lord with me to be published, in [the] hope that they may be useful
to others' and `to refresh the hearts of true believers'.71 However,
Marrant's spiritual autobiography distinctly con¯ates conversion
with a moment of insurrection, as his `sancti®cation' provides him
with an empowered discourse of infallibility sanctioned by the
`spirit': Ì now read the Scriptures very much. My master sent often
to know how I did, and at last came himself, and ®nding me well,
asked me if I would not come to work again? I answered no'.72
Marrant's `spiritual' awakening describes a moment of `non-articu-
lacy'; or rather, the appropriation of a discourse of alterity situated
both on the linguistic parameters of the dominant symbolic order
and on the periphery of dissenting Protestantism. Hence as he is
struck to the ground,`both speechless and senseless for twenty four
minutes' by the words,`PREPARE AND MEET THY GOD, O
ISRAEL', spoken by the Reverend George White®eld (co-founder of
Methodism), Marrant's non-linguistic (and indeed, culturally deviant)
response disturbs the meeting at Charles Town: Ì was constrained on
the bitterness of my soul to halloo out in the midst of the congregation,
which disturbing them, they took me away'.73 By `hallooing out',
Marrant stands apart from the rest of the Methodist congregation ±
his involvement in spiritual possession exceeds that of the congre-
gation and therefore he is taken away. In fact, his reference to
`hallooing' is more appropriate to African rituals of `shouting'.
Within a condensed and prototypical format, Marrant's text de-
scribes the acquirement of a speci®c discourse which he terms the
`language of Canaan' and the `song of Moses and of the Lamb',
through which blacks were able to enter the white literary arena and
therefore the margins of power within the diaspora. For this reason,
as with other narratives of spiritual/physical deliverance, the cap-
tivity framework of Marrant's Narrative pivots essentially upon the
`divine possession' or the gift of tongues; that is, the appropriation of
a divinely inspired language which `delivers' him on separate occa-
sions from the claims of his master and from the hands of the
Cherokee Indians who have sentenced him to death:
I prayed in English a considerable time, and about the middle of my
prayer, the Lord impressed a strong desire upon my mind to turn into their
language, and pray in their tongue. I did so, and with remarkable liberty,
which wonderfully affected the people.74
Although it is not dwelt upon, it is Marrant's ability to speak in

`tongues' rather than in English which impresses the Cherokees. Yet
as far as the overt conversion narrative is concerned, both `deliver-
ances', spiritual and actual, validate Marrant's entrance into the
terrain of white hegemony, and moreover, link his penetration of
Cherokee territory with masterdom.75 Hence, when the Cherokee
executioner is unable to carry out his orders to kill Marrant as a
trespasser, Marrant's reading from the Bible (possibly an editorial
invention) destabilises and indeed, ultimately usurps the power of
the Cherokee king. His selection of biblical extracts, from Chapter
53 of Isaiah and Chapter 26 of Matthew's gospel, deserve attention,
for they appropriately describe the episodes of revelation and
deliverance by the Holy Spirit at the Last Supper, a process which
inaugurates the apostles, and indeed Marrant himself, as authorised
disciples with the power to baptise and evangelise in the `name of
the Holy Spirit'. Marrant's `verbal' articulation of this sacred
`written' text appears to precipitate the King's daughter's partial
conversion to Christianity, since she takes the sacred book from
Marrant's hand and kisses it. Similarly, the executioner falls to his
knees and begs the king to let Marrant `go to prayer':
He arrives among the Cherokees, where gross ignorance wore its rudest
forms, and savage despotism exercised its most terrifying empire . . . The
untutor'd monarch feels the truth, and worships the God of the Christians;
the seeds of the Gospel are disseminated among the Indians by a youthful
hand, and Jesus is received and obeyed.76
Marrant, or rather, the Marrant-Aldridge collaboration, identi®es

the intense emotional utterings, spiritual ecstasy and passionate
physicality demonstrated by the king's subjects, as proof of both the
Holy Spirit's power and of Marrant's own divine election: Ìn the
midst of the prayer some of them cried out, particularly the king's
daughter, and the man who ordered me to be executed, and several
others seemed under deep conviction of sin'.77 As if to con®rm the
authenticity of Marrant's spiritual experience, earlier in the Preface,
Aldridge claimed that Marrant had appeared `to feel most sensibly'
when he described the `most remarkable interpositions of Divine
Providence'.78 One reason for this is the fact that it is a moment
which inscribes a memory of a cultural self other than that prescribed
by radical dissenting Protestantism. The emphasis in Marrant's
Narrative on the profound enormity of `the Lord's wonderful Deal-
ings' (`Though I was weak in body, yet was I strong in the spirit')
appears to inaugurate an articulation of African epistemology within
the continuum of the evangelical momentum established by the
Apostles.79 This in turn enables Marrant's own participation, not
only within protean discourse, but in the highest manifestation of
Cherokee power, the king's language: `Here I learnt to speak their
tongue in the highest stile'.80
Marrant's text presents a revision of the `captivity' genre, a term
conventionally used to describe the immensely popular seventeenth-
and early eighteenth-century narratives of female captivity, usually
amongst the Native American tribes. Such narratives prescribed a
pattern of separation from one's native culture followed by a series
of ordeals within Indian society and ®nally, a return to `civilisa-
tion'.81 One such example was Mrs Mary Rowlandson's A True
History of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs Mary Rowlandson, a Minister's
Wife in New England, printed in Boston and London in 1682.82 This
text described Mary Rowlandson's captivity, which resulted from the
Indian attack on the English settlement of Lancaster in February
1682 and the slaughter of most of the settlers there. According to the
title page, the narrative exposed the `cruel and inhumane usage'
which Mrs Rowlandson underwent, the `malicious and revengeful'
spirit of the heathens and her deliverance as effected by the
`sovraignty of God'.83 Whilst the author's preservation and salvation
form the apex of the narrative, the Lord's providence is seen to have
extended to the preservation of her chastity, thereby securing her
status as a `handmaid' amidst the `roaring lions' and `Savage Bears':
`Not one of them ever offered the least abuse or unchastity to me, in
word or action'.84
Marrant's revision of the `captivity' genre is especially interesting
in its reversal of gender roles and its presentation of the diasporic
identity as metaphorical interlocutor, the linguistic `middle passage'
of (cultural) intertextuality. Marrant had arrived in London with the
cotton merchant John Marsden sometime between 1782 and 1785.85
His text translates the dynamics of cultural dichotomy between
Africa and the west into a revised relationship wherein Cherokee
culture, rather than hybridised African diaspora, occupies the site of
alterity de®ned by Hegel. Hence, Marrant's linguistic `salvation', his
acquirement of Cherokee which `saves' him from death, validates his
participation in the transcendental hemispheres of western culture
and his appropriation of its discourse. This process witnesses the
transference of cultural difference on to another subject. And yet
within the framework of his tale, Marrant is not the only ìnter-
locutor'; the king's daughter also becomes an intermediary, or
medium of cultural exchange but her `conversion' is silenced by
Marrant's own overriding discourse. As a result, his `divine' witness
precipitates his physical release from his captors and endorses his
career as an evangelical missionary until he returns to his family in
Charleston, South Carolina. In May 1785, Marrant was ordained
minister for the Countess of Huntington's independent group of
Calvinist Methodists and embarked on a subsequent career as
itinerant preacher in Bath and Bristol, around the same time that
other dissenting Protestants and abolitionists including Coleridge
were actively propagandising in that area.86 Marrant's employment
of the non-verbal àrticulations' of the `spirit' begin, somewhat
paradoxically, to present powerful revisions of western cultural
hegemony, thus determining spiritual discourse as an alternative
model of linguistic ¯uidity and cultural interchangeability, a process
further developed in the slave narrative by James Gronniosaw.
gronniosaw's `deliverance'
The ®rst edition of James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw's A Narrative
of the Most Remarkable Particulars in the Life of James Albert Ukawsaw
Gronniosaw, An African Prince, As Related By Himself, priced at six pence,
appeared in Bath in 1770, ®fteen years before Marrant's text and six
years after John Newton's Authentic Narrative was published in 1764.87
Whilst this latter fact indicates the possible af®nity between Gron-
niosaw's text and that of other prominent eighteenth-century spirit-
ual autobiographers, one other connection exists pertaining to the
links between the slave narrators and the Romantics. As Paul
Edwards and Lauren Henry point out, Gronniosaw was for a time
the house servant of Cosway, who was a good friend of William
Blake (see Chapter 3 above).88
As Adam Potkay notes, Gronniosaw's text underwent a compli-
cated printing history, with some editions comprised of multiple
copies of one issue.89 Gronniosaw was born between 1710 and 1714
in Borno, Nigeria. He was sold into slavery and became the domestic
servant to a wealthy family in New York City. Around 1730 he
became a servant to the Dutch Reformed Minister Theodorus
Jacobus Frelinghuysen (Mr Freelandhouse). Gronniosaw witnessed
the birth of the Great Awakening in New Jersey and sometime
between 1747 and 1748 underwent conversion and was subsequently
freed by his master. As the title page to Gronniosaw's text suggested,
and the dedication to `The Right Honourable The Countess of
Huntingdon' con®rmed, the Narrative of the Most Remarkable Particulars
presented an autobiographical account of deliverance from slavery,
thoroughly grounded within the literary genre which emerged from
dissenting Protestantism. After his adventurous years as a cook
aboard a privateer, as a pirate during the Seven Years' War
(1756±1763) and the British sieges of Martinique and Havana,
Gronniosaw reached England around 1762. There he visited George
White®eld and was baptised by the British theologian, Dr Andrew
Gifford.90
As his choice of epigraph to his Narrative implied, Gronniosaw's
narrative deployed a critical synthesis of the discourse of spiritual
salvation with that of abolitionism:
I will bring the Blind by a Way that they know not, I will lead them in
Paths that they have not known: I will make the darkness light before them
and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them and not
forsake them. Isaiah 43:16.91
Read duplicitously, this quotation from the Old Testament connotes
the author's spiritual illumination and conversion to Christianity on
the one hand, and on the other, determines the author's de®nition of
himself as `leader of the people'. He is the one chosen not only to
show his own people the way to salvation, but to lead the spiritually
`blind', that is, participants and supporters of the slave trade,
towards à way that they know not', making their crooked ways
`straight'. As the text reveals, this pilgrimage is determined by the
literary example of one, the author himself, whose voice is ìnspired'
by the spirit and whose words (written and spoken) will initiate the
salvation of mankind. At the same time, however, as the subordinate
clause of the title suggests, Gronniosaw's narrative of bondage and
deliverance pivots upon his reclamation of his disinherited cultural
legacy as àn African prince' to the city of Bournou, the chief city in
the kingdom of Zaara.
At the outset of the 1770 edition, the Revd Walter Shirley's
`Preface to the Reader' presents a vigorous effort to ascertain the
spiritual focus of Gronniosaw's text and to establish its inherent
`value' for the Christian (white and black) reader. Accordingly, the
Preface strategically endeavours to pre-empt any criticism con-
cerning the problematic exposure of personal experience to a public
audience and the more sensitive issue concerning the interrelation-
ship between disparate cultural belief systems. Hence, the editor
deprioritises the `fabricated' and overtly politicised nature of Gron-
niosaw's text and, as with Marrant's text, waves aside criticisms
concerning `pseudo-authorship', the intervention by the female
amanuensis from Leominster:
This account of the life and spiritual experience of JAMES ALBERT was
taken from his own mouth, and committed to paper by the elegant pen of a
young LADY of the town of LEOMINSTER, for her own private
satisfaction, and without any intention at ®rst that it should be made
public. But now she has been prevail'd on to commit it to the press, as it is
apprehended, this little history contains matter well worthy the notice and
attention of every Christian reader.92
By de®ning the predominant objective of Gronniosaw's Narrative as

con®rmation of God's omnipotent power over all things and all lands
(including the kingdom of Zaara), the Revd Shirley identi®es this
slave's text as an attestation of Christianity's `superiority' over the
belief systems held by the Africans. Moreover, in situating the text's
focus within the parameters of pilgrimage and conversion, the editor
detracts attention away from the unorthodox relationship prior to
the text's publication, that is, the transformation of Gronniosaw's
oral narrative into a written text, a process which takes place
between the female amanuensis from Leominster and `her' black
male `subject' of enunciation:
Perhaps we have here in some degree a solution of that question that has
perplex'd the minds of so many serious persons, viz. In what manner will
GOD deal with those benighted parts of the world where the gospel of Jesus Christ hath
never reach'd? Now it appears from the experience of this remarkable person,
that GOD does not save without the knowledge of the truth; but, with
respect to those whom he hath fore-known, though born under every
disadvantage, and in regions of the grossest darkness and ignorance, he
most amazingly acts upon and in¯uences their minds, and in the course of
wisely and most wonderfully appointed providences, he brings them to the
means of spiritual information, gradually opens to their view the light of his
truth, and gives them full possession and enjoyment of the inestimable
blessing of his gospel.93
In fact, as the above extract suggests, the editor is at pains to inscribe

Gronniosaw's former cultural beliefs within the economy of a
Christian schema of monotheism, claiming that even as a young boy,
the author had felt `that there was a Being superior to the sun, moon
and stars'.94 Accordingly, the editor suggests that, Gronniosaw,
albeit unsuspectingly, `belong'd to the REDEEMER of lost sinners',
and was thus `delivered' spiritually, an inheritance which he con-
siders far superior to his interrupted (royal) inheritance: `Though
born in an exalted station of life . . . he would rather embrace the
dunghill, having CHRIST in his heart, than give up his spiritual
possessions and enjoyment, to ®ll the throne of princes'.95 Yet
Gronniosaw's narrative, commencing as it does with the Ì was born'
statement typical of many conversion narratives, is careful to
establish the privileged nature of the author's African cultural past,
especially his relationship with the royal family of Zaara. This
cultural loyalty vies with the ideology informing the very crux of
Gronniosaw's conversion narrative and again exposes the miscege-
netic nature of the slave narratives in terms of their editorial process.
Hence the traumatic and bewildering experiences of capture, trans-
portation and enslavement are reduced or signi®cantly marginalised
by the established categories of the conversion narrative. We hear
very little, if anything, of his experience as a slave. What is
foregrounded is the `fact' that even at a very young age Gronniosaw
felt an intense dissatisfaction with African epistemology, that in the
period prior to his capture and transportation across the middle
passage, he experienced a profound sense of `hiatus' or disjuncture
from his own people and an innate receptivity to a disparate or
counter-ideology at odds with his own cultural identity:
Twas certain that I was, at times, very unhappy in myself: it being strongly
impressed on my mind that there was some GREAT MAN of power which
resided above the sun, moon and stars, the objects of our worship . . . I was
frequently lost in wonder at the works of the creation: was afraid, uneasy,
and restless, but could not tell for what. I wanted to be inform'd of things
that no person could tell me; and was always dissatis®ed. ± These
wonderful impressions begun in my childhood.96
It is this antagonism towards, or rather betrayal of, his indigenous

cultural beliefs which Gronniosaw claims precipitated his yearning to
depart from the Kingdom of Zaara with the àid' of an ivory-
merchant from the Gold Coast (a traf®cker whom the text identi®es
as a trader of cultural tokens rather than of slaves) in order to see
`white folks' and `houses' (ships) that walked ùpon the water with
wings to them'. This `desire' for intercultural determinism estab-
lishes Gronniosaw's text as a `mulatto' or hybridised text, an
archetype embodied metaphorically by the physical features of his
sister, Logwy, whom he describes as `quite white and fair, with ®ne
light hair, though my father and mother were black'.97
Upon his arrival at the merchant's homeland, the young Gron-
niosaw is denounced a Zaaran spy and sentenced to death by the
king. Interestingly, in his recollection of this dramatic ordeal, the
spiritual agent of his deliverance struggles unresolvedly with the
signi®ers of African culture, those tokens which mark his disinheri-
tance and inspire the king's sympathy towards a fellow royal:
The morning I was to die, I was washed, and all my gold ornaments made bright
and shining, and then carried to the palace, where the King was to behead
me himself . . . I went up to the KING alone, ± I went with an undaunted
courage, and it pleased GOD to melt the heart of the KING, who sat with his
scymitar in his hand ready to behead me; yet, being himself so affected, he
dropped it out of his hand, and took me upon his knee and wept over me.98
As a means of compromise, the king agrees to sell Gronniosaw into
slavery, but when the latter overhears of the merchants' plans to
throw him overboard should they fail to sell him as a slave,
Gronniosaw pleads with a Dutch captain to purchase him, `though
he did not understand my language', in exchange for two yards of
checked cloth. Although this reads as a distinctly material trans-
action, the author interprets it as a demonstration of the spiritual
work of the ÀLMIGHTY'.99 Whilst with this Dutch master, Gron-
niosaw exchanges the elaborate icons of his African heritage, his
large gold necklace and pear-shaped gold earrings, for a set of new
clothes fashioned in the European style, a transaction which appears
to symbolise his abandonment of African cultural signi®ers and his
appropriation of those of the west: Ì found all this troublesome, and
was glad when my new Master took it from me'.100 Likewise, once
on board the Dutch ship, the relationship which develops between
the Captain and Gronniosaw endorses this assimilation of all things
European and guarantees the author's orientation along the path of
deliverance. And yet, when his master gives him the Book of Prayers
to read, Gronniosaw's cultural exclusion as an African-other resur-
faces:
My master grew very fond of me, and I loved him exceedingly . . . He used
to read prayers in public to the ship's crew every Sabbath day; and when
®rst I saw him read, I was never so surprised in my life, as when I saw the
book talk to my master, for I thought it did, as I observed him to look upon
it, and move his lips. ± I wished it would do so to me. As soon as my master
had done reading, I followed him to the place where he put the book, being
mightily delighted with it, and when nobody saw me, I opened it and put
my ear down close upon it, in great hopes that it would say something to
me; but was very sorry, and greatly disappointed when I found that it
would not speak, this thought immediately presented itself to me, that
every body and every thing despised me because I was black.101
For Gates, the book fails to speak to Gronniosaw because it does not
`recognise his presence' and so refuses to share its secrets or decipher
its coded messages.102 However, Gronniosaw's exclusion from what
the book represents is neither absolute nor permanent. Indeed, this
passage demarcates the moment preceding the cultural interpenetra-
tion and assimilation of the western (epistemological) narrative by
the mulatto text. It delineates the process of transformation required
if Gronniosaw, as a cultural representative, is to be `delivered' into
the realm of the diaspora through a translation of the dynamics of
African belief into the tenets of evangelism.
hermeneutics and cultural boundaries

Gronniosaw's post-conversion interpretation of the above incident
denotes a perception essentially informed by cultural determinism
and social aspiration. Whilst the book in question `seems' to perceive
difference in terms of its reader, it is exactly at this juncture that the
predominant signi®er of the western world, the written word, and the
oral articulation of the subject's experience, coalesce. Guided by the
`words' of the spirit, Gronniosaw enters a literary arena sancti®ed by
the grace of God, and the tactile nature of spiritual discourse enables
a reappropriation of a literary genre, on both an individual and
cultural level. Hence when Mrs Vanhorn, his master's wife, curses
her slave for some tri¯ing domestic error, Gronniosaw undermines
her social authority with his own religious trump card, a recapitula-
tion of her own Christian ideology: `Madam, says I, you must not
say so. Why, says she? Because there is a black man called the Devil
that lives in hell, and he will put you in the ®re and burn you, and I
shall be very sorry for that'.103 When Gronniosaw is sold to the
minister, Mr Freelandhouse, the latter's doctrinal theological state-
ments are countered by Gronniosaw's own discourse of difference
which articulates an uninterrupted continuum of preslavery cultural
identity and extends the African concept of ancestral `spirits',
thereby bridging the cultural and epistemological divide. Unlike
Marrant's text which, to a large extent, echoes the distinct nature of
Christian ideology, Gronniosaw's response paves the way for what is
the crux of his Narrative, the intersection between the origins of his
own cultural and epistemological identity and the discourse of
radical dissenting Protestantism:
He [Mr Freelandhouse] took great pains with me, and made me
understand that he prayed to GOD, who lived in heaven; that He was my
Father and BEST Friend. ± I told him that this must be a mistake; that my
father lived at BOURNOU, and that I wanted very much to see him . . .
He told me that GOD was a GREAT and GOOD SPIRIT, that He created
all the world, and every person and thing in it, in Ethiopia, Africa, and
America, and every where. I was delighted when I heard this: There, says
I, I always thought so when I lived at home!104
On hearing his master read from the Book of Revelation, `Behold,
He cometh in the clouds and every eye shall see him, and they that
pierced Him' (1:7), Gronniosaw's spiritual pilgrimage towards Christ
is inaugurated as he declares himself a sinner ignorant of the word of
God, and receives a copy of John Bunyan's work, Grace Abounding to
the Chief of Sinners (1660) and Richard Baxter's God's Call to the
Unconverted (1719). This journey toward deliverance strategically
reiterates the author's `transcultural' voyage across the middle
passage, and his experience of spiritual illumination is simultane-
ously ®gured as a deliverance from physical and psychic enslavement:
I was one day in a most delightful frame of mind, my heart so over¯owed
with love and gratitude to the author of all my comforts. ± I was so drawn
out of myself, and so ®lled and awed by the presence of GOD, that I saw
(or thought I saw) light inexpressible dart down from heaven upon me, and
shone around me for the space of a minute. ± I continued on my knees, and
joy unspeakable took possession of my soul. ± The peace and serenity
which ®lled my mind after this, was wonderful, and cannot be told. ± I
would not have changed situations, or been any one but myself for the
world.105
However, socioeconomic liberation comes not with conversion to
Christianity, but with the death of (and hence deliverance from) his
master, whereafter Gronniosaw ®nds employment on board a ship as
a cook. As in John Newton's Authentic Narrative, the ship on which
Gronniosaw travels is bound for Haiti, one of the largest and most
productive colonies of the Caribbean, signifying Gronniosaw's con-
tinued, albeit indirect, involvement with the slave trade. Neverthe-
less, Gronniosaw's sancti®ed (royal) state continues to `seal' him
from sin, and for this reason the sailor who ridicules his zealous
evangelism, dies mysteriously and unexpectedly, thereby con®rming
God's spiritual powers of retribution and divine election or possibly
myal / obeah powers.
In accordance with Daniel Defoe's extremely popular book, The
Life and Strange Suprizing Adventures of Mr. D- De F- (1719) and Newton's
Authentic Narrative (1764), Gronniosaw's text describes a series of
maritime adventures, including a naval attack on a French ¯eet, the
murder of a French prisoner by the Captain and the theft of the
author's savings by various tricksters.106 Whereas Cowper's texts had
prescribed metaphors of water, deluge and inundation, Gronnio-
saw's text rede®nes the aqueous zone (of the middle passage and his
naval adventures) as one of `becoming', of assimilation and cultural
(re)con®guration. Once in England, the author contacts the
Evangelical leader, George White®eld, and so con®rms his own
spiritual, and indeed `literary' place within the Great Awakening
movement.107 Later, in Amsterdam, Gronniosaw relates his spiritual
experience to a group of Calvinist ministers whom he explains
enigmatically, were `very well satis®ed' with his account and were
`persuaded I was what I pretended to be':
They wrote down my experience as I spoke it: and the LORD
ALMIGHTY was with me at that time in a remarkable manner, and gave
me words and enabled me to answer them; so great was his mercy to take
me in hand a poor blind heathen.108
After a period of twelve months employment with a wealthy

merchant in Amsterdam, Gronniosaw returns to England to see his
hitherto unmentioned wife, Betty, and their mulatto children. Unlike
Marrant's text, which concludes with its author's ordination, here
the spiritual focus of the text is abandoned and transformed into a
socioeconomic and abolitionist schema which presents an account of
Gronniosaw's family's perpetual state of poverty, starvation and exile
as they are forced to move between Essex and London until they
receive ®nancial support from a Quaker, Mr Henry Gurney.109 Even
if the experience of slavery is downplayed, this narrative manages to
include a personal account of the precarious living conditions
experienced by blacks in eighteenth-century England. Hence, whilst
Andrews argues that slave narratives such as Gronniosaw's, pub-
lished between 1760 and 1810, did not articulate any real indication
of what it meant to be a black in white society, nevertheless
Gronniosaw's text presents a vivid critique of white ideology. 110
What is more, as if to undermine any purely spiritual interpretation
of his text, Gronniosaw concludes his Narrative of the Most Remarkable
Particulars with a blasphemous critique of established religious
doctrine, as exempli®ed by his parish priest's refusal to bury one of
his unbaptised children:
At length I resolved to dig a grave in the garden behind the house, and
bury her there; when the parson of the parish sent for to tell me he would
bury the child, but did not choose to read the burial service over her. I told
him I did not care whether he would go or no, as the child could not hear it. We met
with a great deal of ill treatment after this, and found it very dif®cult to live:
We could scarcely get work to do, and were obliged to pawn our cloaths.111
This passage clearly identi®es the `hybrid' discourse of Gronniosaw's
text and strategically revises his earlier account of the sacred book's
refusal to speak to him. Gronniosaw's daughter cannot hear the
parson's words not merely because she is dead but because they are
`meaningless' ± i.e. situated within the void between religious
discourse and socioeconomic transformation ± and secondly,
because as a `mulatto', his daughter lies on the periphery of cultural
and epistemological boundaries, a `transmigrated' soul of (self-)exile
and (protean) cultural mutation. Hence, the ®nal paragraph of
Gronniosaw's text encapsulates the point of intersection (a `non-site'
for advocates of racial segregation) between the discourse of evangel-
ism and the actuality of socioeconomics, in its demands for the
®nancial alleviation of the black poor, or `blackbirds', residing in
England during the 1770s. By emphasising his wife's hard labour,
and their dependence upon the charitable donations they periodi-
cally received, Gronniosaw situates socioeconomic discourse within
the framework of pilgrimage and salvation established by Puritan
devotees such as Bunyan and Richard Baxter:
My wife, by hard labour at the loom, does every thing that can be expected
from her towards the maintenance of our family; and GOD is pleased to incline
the hearts of his people at times to yield us their charitable assistance, being myself
through age and in®rmity able to contribute but little to their support. As
pilgrims, and very poor pilgrims, we are travelling through many dif®culties towards our
HEAVENLY HOME, and waiting patiently for his gracious call, when the
LORD shall deliver us out of the evils of this present world, and bring us to
the EVERLASTING GLORIES of the world to come. ± TO HIM be
PRAISE for EVER and EVER. AMEN. FINIS.112
Thus, Gronniosaw's Narrative emerges as a protean text of epistemo-
logical and cultural indeterminacy: a work which witnesses the
convergence of spiritual discourse with demands for racial and
socioeconomic liberation. His text introduces an appropriate proto-
type for the juncture between hermeneutical discourse (the science
of interpretation, especially the Scriptures) and the complex muta-
tion of cultural signi®ers, a process of self-identi®cation (individual
and cultural) more thoroughly developed within the poetical and
prose work by another slave, Phillis Wheatley.
chapter seven
Phillis Wheatley: poems and letters
Religion indeed, has produced a Phyllis Whately; but it could

not produce a poet.1
Three years after the publication of Gronniosaw's Narrative of the Most

Remarkable Particulars and long before the publication of Equiano's
autobiographical text of 1789 and Wedderburn's ®rst publication of
c. 1802, The London Chronicle (9±11 September 1773) announced the
publication of a volume of Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral
(1773) by the black female slave, Phillis Wheatley.2 Wheatley's
collection of poems (which were included in the 1814 edition of
Equiano's Interesting Narrative discussed below) con®rm the correlation
between spiritual discourse and radical politics, prescribed within
earlier works by radical dissenting Protestants on both sides of the
Atlantic. In addition, Wheatley's work highlighted the increasingly
antagonistic relationship between England and colonial America, a
debate which was to culminate in the American Revolution of 1783.
In its focus on spiritual development, Wheatley's work (consisting
primarily of poems and letters) provides an appropriate comparison
with the slave narratives discussed above, whilst its emphasis on
concepts of memory, imagination and liberation reveal its literary
relationship with the works of the Romantic poets. Given the
celebrity status bestowed upon Wheatley by London society and the
enthusiastic reviews of her poetry by British periodicals and aboli-
tionists including Thomas Clarkson, it is likely that the Romantics
were aware of her work. Likewise, during her visit to London,
Wheatley was visited by members of some of the best bluestocking
circles and her work was celebrated in poems by prominent British
female writers, including Mary Scott and Mary Deverell.3 Compiled
in the neoclassical style, against which the Romantics were reacting,
Wheatley's concern with subjectivity, the construction of the self and
201
Fig. 4. Frontispiece, Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral by Phillis Wheatley.
London, Bell, 1773.
the power of nature, links her in subject matter, if not in style, to the
works of the Romantics. The paradigm of liberation, upon which
much of the work of the Romantics was based, ®nds a precursor in
the works of the female slave who demanded liberation from colonial
Phillis Wheatley: poems and letters 203
slavery and racial ideology. In this way, Wheatley's work transforms
the discourse of `spiritual awakening' into a duplicitous discourse of
protest and rebellion. Moreover, Wheatley's work exempli®es an
effective articulation of the dynamics of identity con®guration in the
black diaspora, together with literary and polemical tactics which
serve to expose the antagonistic relationship between Christian
ideology and African epistemological belief systems.
Born on the West Coast of Africa, most probably along the
Gambia River c. 1753±1754, Wheatley was captured and taken
aboard a slave ship when she was about seven years old. On her
arrival in Boston in 1761, Wheatley was purchased `for a tri¯e' by a
tailor named John Wheatley, who intended that she would serve as a
slave attendant to his wife, Susanna. `Wheatley' was given the family
name of her purchasers and renamed `Phillis' after the slave-trading
vessel that had transported her. This process of renaming was
favoured by slave-traders and slave owners in the colonies and
represented a succinct form of cultural erasure, whereby African
codes were supplanted by European codes, a process which intensi-
®ed the slaves' endeavours to reestablish con®gurations of identity in
the black diaspora. Yet Wheatley's position as a black female slave
was further problematised by the ambiguous status which she held
within her master's house and the education she received there. At
the Wheatley household, Phillis was taught to read the Bible, Ovid
and Latin books of mythology and was probably fourteen years of
age when her ®rst poem, Òn Messrs Hussey and Cof®n', was
published on 21 December 1767. Two years later, in 1769, Wheatley's
elegiac poem Òn the Death of Joseph Sewall' was published, a
poem which commemorated the death of her most trusted spiritual
counsellor. Composed in the neoclassical tradition, Wheatley's
poems re¯ect the profound in¯uence of the meditative Methodist
funeral elegy upon the Romantic genre, demonstrated by the
popularity of Charlotte Smith's melancholic Elegiac Sonnets (1787).
Moreover, in their focus on physical loss and spiritual presence, they
constitute important poetical representations of the cultural intersec-
tion between radical dissenting Protestantism, literary expressions of
identity and African beliefs.4
Wheatley's poem, Òn the Death of Mr Snider Murder'd by
Richardson', composed in the same year as Paine's Rights of Man but
not published in Poems on Various Subjects, celebrated the deceased
twelve-year-old son of a German colonist as the `®rst martyr of the
common good' in the American Revolutionary War. During 1769
and 1770, the aggressive King's Red Coats had enraged citizens of
Boston by enforcing oppressive laws previously agreed upon in
London without their consultation. Snider had been shot dead on 22
February 1770 when Ebenezer Richardson (a tax informant) had
®red indiscriminately into a mob of angry colonials.5 Living with the
Wheatleys, on the corner of King Street and Mackerel Lane, Phillis
was almost certainly an eye witness to this momentous outbreak of
hostilities between Bostonians and soldiers of the Twenty-Ninth
Regiment. Known as the `Boston Massacre', this event claimed the
lives of ®ve Bostonian `citizens', including the runaway slave,
Crispus Attucks, as reported in The Massachusetts Gazette and The
Boston Gazette.6 Wheatley's poetical account of this important histor-
ical episode, Òn the Affray in King St., on the Evening of the 5th of
March' (1770) was excluded from the volume of Poems on Various
Subjects, an omission which highlights the sensitive political climate of
the time.7
Wheatley's poetry was also distinctly in¯uenced by the complex
landscape of eighteenth-century America's liberationist theology, a
movement which combined concepts of spiritual illumination with
American demands for independence from Britain. Preaching in
Boston just a few days after the Massacre, Wheatley's master's son-
in-law, John Lathrop, identi®ed the relationship between America
and its British oppressors as that between masters and slaves. God,
argued Lathrop, had intended that his rational creatures should
ènjoy' those `natural notions [of liberty]' which had been planted in
their breasts:
In those parts of the world where civil government is not established, the
inhabitants, no doubt have a right to continue in a state of nature as long as
they please . . . One individual can have no right to compel another to
submit to his authority . . . When men enter into society it must be by
voluntary consent . . . Those rulers who take from the people what they
please under the notion of a reward for their services, are tyrants, and the
people Slaves.8
Three years later, in the last of the artillery election sermons to be
preached before the Revolutionary War, Lathrop hinted that àbso-
lute dominion' belonged `to the Lord of nature' and not to the
perpetrators of political power: `to him alone to rule his creatures
with uncontrolled sway'.9 Lathrop's demands for liberty from
colonial oppressors con®rmed the liberationist ideology in the years
which led up to America's Declaration of Independence but did not
necessarily indicate a simultaneous commitment to the emancipation
of slaves. Hence, whilst Boston newspapers and preachers attacked
the British ministry, rewards for runaway slaves and slave auction
notices continued to proliferate New England papers.
On 18 August 1771, Wheatley was baptised by the Revd Samuel
Cooper, an Evangelical minister who was at Harvard when George
White®eld made his ®rst appearance in New England.10 Ordained
on 21 May 1746, Cooper preached a public sermon of his confession
of faith that set the pattern of his ministry. Cooper (although he had
one slave called `Glasgow') became one of the poet's most important
spiritual and literary advisors and ®ve months after her baptism
Wheatley published her proposal for a volume of poems.11 In May
1773, the same year as the `Boston Tea Party' (during which
Bostonians raided three British ships carrying several hundred tea
chests as a protest against British taxes and the East India Compa-
ny's trade monopoly) Wheatley set sail for England as the attendant
of Nathaniel Wheatley, her master's son.12 On her arrival in
London, Wheatley, presumably aided by the in¯uence of the dedi-
catee of her volume, Selina Hastings (for whom George White®eld
had served as personal chaplain), continued preparations for the
publication of her Poems on Various Subjects. As her letter of 17 July
1773 to David Wooster recorded, once in England Wheatley was
introduced to some of the country's most important abolitionist and
evangelical citizens, including Granville Sharp, later co-founder of
the British Society for the Abolition of the Slave Trade (1787),
Thomas Gibbons, the dissenting minister and composer of devo-
tional verse, Sir Brook Watson, the wealthy merchant who became
the Lord Mayor of London, and William Legge, Earl of Dartmouth
and Secretary of State for the Colonies. During her stay in England,
Wheatley received con®rmation that her collection of Poems on
Various Subjects would be published by Archibald Bell's of London.
In the original manuscript and prefatory pages of the New
England edition of Poems on Various Subjects (1816), the signatures of
eighteen prominent Bostonian citizens attested to the authenticity of
Wheatley's literary talents. These included important evangelical
ministers such as Mather Byles, the poet who renounced his public
career in order to take up the ministry of Hollis Street Church in
Boston, Samuel Cooper, Samuel Mather and John Moorhead:
WE, whose names are underwritten, do assure the world, that the poems
speci®ed in the following page, were, as we verily believe, written by Phillis,
a young negro girl, who was, but a few years since, brought an uncultivated
barbarian from Africa, and has ever since been, and now is, under the
disadvantage of serving as a slave in a family in this town. She has been
examined by some of the best Judges, and is thought quali®ed to write
them.13
Other signatories of the `Letter to the Publick' included Thomas
Hutchinson, the governor of Massachusetts Bay, James Bowdoin,
founder of Bowdoin College and John Hancock, Declaration of
Independence signatory.14
Wheatley's premature departure from England on 27 July 1773,
necessitated by her mistress' sudden fatal illness, prevented the
poet's presence at the launch of her collection of poems and the
scheduled meeting with her patroness, Selina Hastings, Countess of
Huntingdon.15 Despite her absence however, Wheatley's Poems on
Various Subjects received considerable attention from the British press
and by authors such as John Stedman.16 Nine British periodicals
cited extracts from her poems as evidence of the sincerity of her
piety and the impressive scope of her literary and classical know-
ledge.17 Undoubtedly, the evangelical tone of her poems coincided
conveniently with the increasing momentum of radical dissenting
Protestantism in England and proved an attractive lure to a nation
eager to construct a revised (philanthropic) image of itself. A
selection of Wheatley's poems were reproduced in the December
1781 issue of the Methodist periodical, The Arminian Magazine, a
journal which had also included works by William Cowper, Mrs
Barbauld and Hannah More.18 In September 1773, The Critical
Review heralded the Àfrican' poetess as a `literary phenomena' and
identi®ed Wheatley's poem, `To Maecenas', as `the production of a
young Negro, who was, but a few years since, an illiterate barbarian'.19
Similarly, The London Chronicle declared the poet an infant prodigy of
pronounced linguistic and cultural talent:
Without any assistance from school education, and by only what she was
taught in the family, she, in 16 months from her arrival, attained the
English language, to which she was an utter stranger before, to such a
degree as to read any, but the most dif®cult parts of the sacred writings, to
the great astonishment of all who heard her.20
Conversely, however, in October 1773, The Public Advertiser adopted
a far less favourable tone and reproduced a letter addressed to the
paper's editor which (as with Wordsworth's sonnet `Queen and
Huntress, Chaste and Fair') dismissed Wheatley's poetry with a
plethora of satirical and sexual (miscegenetic) undertones:
Phillis Wheatley has shone upon us. The ®gure of the shining, I own, is a
little unproper, as Phillis is of a sable Hue, but I alluded to the Light of her
Genius. I know no Way but one to recruit the Lamps of the tuneful Doctors
with Oil, so that they may blaze forth upon us again with poetical Lustre.
One of them at least has a Hand to give away. Matrimony is the Thing in
Poetry as well as in Prose. What may not a male and female genius produce
when they are properly joined together.21
The editorial voice of The London Monthly Review similarly questioned
the authenticity of Wheatley's talent, and indeed, the creative
potential of the Negro race per se, claiming that if genius were the
`natural' offspring of tropical regions, `we should rather wonder that
the sable race have not been more distinguished by it'. In this
writer's view, as with other racial theoreticians, proximity to the sun,
`far from heightening the powers of the mind', enfeebled, or rather
prohibited, artistic creativity, whereas a cool climate `naturally'
guaranteed an advanced stage of intellectual capability and develop-
ment:
Thus we ®nd the tropical regions remarkable for nothing but the sloth and
languor of their inhabitants, their lascivious disposition and their deadness
to invention. The country that gave birth to Alexander and Aristotle, the
conqueror of the world, and the greater conqueror of nature, was
Macedonia, naturally a cold and ungenial region. Homer and Hesiod
breathed the cool and temperate air of the Meles, and the poets and heroes
of Greece and Rome had no very intimate commerce with the sun.22
The same editor declared that Wheatley's poems bore `no endemial
marks of solar ®re or spirit', a remark which strategically endea-
voured to sever any relationship between the poet's work and the
evangelical concepts of individualism and spiritual sancti®cation.
Nevertheless the anonymous review contained in The Gentleman's
Magazine (September 1773) praised the abolitionist subtext of Wheat-
ley's Poems on Various Subjects and publicly condemned her continued
state of servitude. According to that reviewer, it was a `sad disgrace'
to all those who had signed the testimony validating the works of this
`young talented poet':
We are much concerned to ®nd that this ingenious young woman is yet a
slave. The people of Boston boast themselves chie¯y in their principles of
liberty. One such act as the purchase of her freedom, would, in our
opinion, have done them more honour than hanging a thousand trees with
ribbons and emblems.23
Several years later, in his `Notes on the State of Virginia', Thomas
Jefferson, the àutobiographer' of the American nation, propounded
a theory of racial difference based upon a cultural aesthetic
dichotomy.24 In this text, Jefferson described Wheatley's work as a
product of religious enthusiasm rather than of poetic talent:
Misery is often the parent of the most affecting touches in poetry. ± Among
the blacks is misery enough, God knows, but no poetry. Love is the peculiar
oestrum of the poet. Their love [blacks] is ardent, but it kindles the senses
only, not the imagination. Religion indeed, has produced a Phyllis Whately
[sic]; but it could not produce a poet. The compositions published under
her name are below the dignity of criticism.25
Whilst Jefferson's remark demonstrates the coalescence of ethno-
graphic studies with theoretical justi®cations of slavery, it must be
remembered that Wheatley's poetical work presented an encroach-
ment of the autobiographical forum presided over by Jefferson, a site
which con¯ated the dynamics of autobiography with those of
cultural ideology and `nation' writing.26
an èthiopian speaks'
(Àmerica', Collected Works, p. 134, line 6).
In her analysis of labouring class women's writing published in
Britain between 1739 and 1796, Donna Landry argues that whilst
abolitionist discourse facilitated Wheatley's entry into white discur-
sive culture, it also functioned as a constraint upon her literary
production in its failure to offer utopian alternatives to her fractured
semiotic ®eld or her socioeconomic conditions. According to Landry
therefore, Wheatley suffered from a form of `cultural amnesia'
signi®ed by her linguistic entrapment and her appropriation of
imperialist culture: `Wheatley does not ``know'' what happened,
cannot remember, can only envisage within the master's language
what her native prehistory might have been'.27 Such an account
does not, however, take into account the complexities of Wheatley's
literary con®gurations of identity, nor her need to solicit rather than
alienate potential western (abolitionist) subscribers; to ®gure as a
spokeswoman for other black slaves in the diaspora; and to exercise
a `creolised' literary language that re¯ects her own contradictory
status as a slave owned by an American and writing in Britain.
Within her poetry and her letters, Wheatley demonstrates that she
understands the problematics involved within con®gurations of
`homelands'; for blacks in the diaspora, `new' versions of home must
be found to accompany the new subjectivities which slavery and
involuntary transportation had produced. Perceptively, Wheatley
understands that since language provides the only testament to
subjectivity, new ways must be found to make it speak both to her
fellow enslaved and her enslavers.
Wheatley's deployment of late eighteenth-century dissenting dis-
course manifested a complex deconstruction of pro-slavery ideology
and heralded an alternative form of cultural interdependence based
on symbiosis rather than parasitism. Much of the religious and
theological training which Wheatley received from the clergy in
New England was thoroughly imbibed with the passionate anti-
colonial ideology and revolutionary rhetoric of the 1760s and 1770s,
a discourse which Wheatley employed in order to advance her
abolitionist and anti-racist demands. Furthermore, her poems
emphasised the inalienable rights of all humans to personal liberty as
explicated in the theological, philosophical and political theories of
Locke, Hume and Montesquieu.28 As many of her poems' titles
suggest ± Òn the Death of the Revd Dr Sewall' (1769), Òn the
Death of the Revd Mr George White®eld' (1770) and Àn Elegy
Sacred to the Memory of that Great Divine, the Reverend and
Learned Mr Samuel Cooper' (1783) ± Wheatley maintained an
extensive network of connections with prominent members of the
New England evangelical establishment. Both Joseph Sewall and
Samuel Cooper, author of Pietas et Gratulatio (1761), had ministered at
the Wheatley family's local church, the Old South Church in
Boston. Preachers such as John Lathrop, the Connecticut minister,
Timothy Pitkin, Samson Occom (the Indian preacher), the Dart-
mouth founders, Eleezer Wheelock and Nathaniel Whitaker and the
abolitionist, Samuel Hopkins, were often received by the Wheatley
household and participated regularly in anti-colonial activities in
New England.29 Indeed, as the tracts and sermons presented by
these Boston preachers con®rmed, `slavery' had become a prevalent
metaphor for the antagonistic relationship between England and her
colonies: `God has treated us as Children and not as Slaves . . .
[and] has called us unto Liberty; and mercifully preserved us from
those Chains under which many nations who once were free, are
now groaning'.30 Following this trend, Wheatley's poem Àmerica' of
1768 (not included in the 1773 Poems on Various Subjects) located
America's struggle to escape from `great Britannia's' suffocating
grasp, with a powerful image of ®lial/matriarchal dialectics:
A certain lady [Britannia] had an only son [Americus]

He grew up daily virtuous as he grew
Fearing his Strength which she undoubted knew
She laid some taxes on her darling son . . .
By many Scourges she his goodness try'd
Untill at length the Best of Infants cry'd
He wept, Britannia turn'd a senseless ear.31
Wheatley's image of colonial insurrection translated easily into a

model of emancipation, yet the poet herself was caught somewhere
in the middle of these con¯icting colonial loyalties. For Wheatley
Èngland' constituted both a colonial oppressor and a surrogate
mother, a maternal ®gure imbued with the power (since the Som-
erset case of 1772) to facilitate her personal liberation from slavery.
The delicate nature of the poet's own sociopolitical demands were
therefore presented amidst ambiguous images, which in turn
described the complex `middle passage' of linguistic translation and
cultural exchange: `Thy Power, O Liberty, makes strong the weak /
And (wond'rous instinct) Ethiopians speak / Sometimes by Simile, a
victory's won'.32
In the engraving which forms the frontispiece to her Poems on
Various Subjects, Wheatley is seen poised at a writing desk, a servant's
cap on her head, her quill suspended above a leaf of paper. Her eyes
are focused on something residing beyond the con®nes of the
etching, beyond the parameters of the western cultural narrative.
Her meditative stance suggests not only the poise of an author in the
moment of (divine) inspiration, but also registers her active revi-
sionism of European ideologies and scriptural exegesis. That
towards which she gazes, but from which she is excluded ± the realm
of the goddess of liberty ± vies unresolvedly with the words of
servitude which form the periphery of the print ± `Phillis Wheatley,
Negro Servant to Mr John Wheatley of Boston'.33 Likewise, as antici-
pated by the frontispiece, Wheatley's text identi®es a site of inter-
mediation across the ideological divide which separated western
culture from that of Africa, its constructed antithesis. Thus the voice
of the Ethiopian, contained within her poems, enacted a complex
process of intermediation with dominant colonial, racial and radical
dissenting ideologies.
`your ladyship's obed't servt'

In the poem which begins the collection, `To Maecenas', composed
sometime between April 1772 and September 1773, Wheatley com-
memorates the Roman statesman and patron of the arts, Gaius
Maecenas (c. 74/64±8 bc) and thereby highlights the importance of
her own relationship with her patroness in England, the Countess of
Huntingdon. Maecenas, the patron who prided himself in his
Etruscan lineage and became known as Caesar's right hand, spon-
sored poets such as Horace and Virgil, whose artistic works estab-
lished a glori®cation of the new regime and celebrated Rome's
illustrious historical heritage.34 Wheatley's own version of the Mae-
cenas/Lady Huntingdon model presents an example of spiritual
relationship between the American divine and poet, Mather Byles
and his own favourite poet, Pope: `Does not your [Maecenas'] soul
possess the sacred ¯ame? / Their noble strains your equal genius
shares / In softer language, and diviner airs'.35 Yet in her allusion to
Book XVI of Pope's translation of The Iliad, Wheatley not only
signals her appropriation of western mythological ®gures but reveals
her own self-con®guration as poetic `warrior' for her people. In this
poem, Wheatley stakes a claim for the potential usurpation of these
earlier national ®gures by her own cultural voice:
O could I rival thine and Virgil's page,
Or claim the Muses with the Mantuan Sage;
Soon the same beauties should my mind adorn,
And the same ardors in my soul should burn:
Then should my song in bolder notes arise,
And all my numbers pleasingly surprize.36
Wheatley's claims for poetical genius are however, immediately
superseded by lines which suggest her rhetorical self-effacement: `But
here I sit, and mourn a grov'ling mind, / That fain would mount,
and ride upon the wind'.37 Accordingly, she turns her attention
towards the popular comic poet of ancient Rome, `the happier
Terence' (Publius Terentus Afer, c. 185±159 bc), the ex-slave and
playwright of African descent who composed The Eunuch and other
plays.38 Liberated from slavery by the fruits of his pen, Terence
presents Wheatley with a much-needed model of emancipation
premised upon artistic recognition, a project upon which the
publication of her own collection of Poems on Various Subjects was
equally dependent. In the lines which follow, however, Wheatley
questions her idealisation of Terence, arguing that he ought not be
the only black poet worthy of admiration ± in other words, her own
poetic merit deserves attention: `But say, ye Muses, why this partial
grace, / To one alone of Afric's sable race; / From age to age
transmitting thus his name / With the ®rst glory in the rolls of
fame?'.39 By highlighting the artistic talent of Terence/Africa ±
`from whom those virtues sprung' ± she radically champions the
continued creative propensity of African culture ± a civilisation
which predates slave-based Roman culture represented by poets such
as Homer and Virgil. In so doing, Wheatley consolidates her
demands for popular acclaim: `While blooming wreaths around thy
temples spread, / I'll snatch a laurel from thine [Terence's] honour'd
head, / While you indulgent smile upon the deed'.40 Her ®nal plea
to Maecenas for protection and patronage thus endorses her recog-
nition of her economic dependence upon her patroness, yet
demands that her own poetical talent be acknowledged: `So long,
great Sir, the muse thy praise shall sing, / So long thy praise shall
make Parnassus ring: / Then grant, Maecenas, thy paternal rays, /
Hear me propitious, and defend my lays'.41 While her text acknowl-
edges the dynamics involved in the extension of the self by (cultural)
patronal others, her poems demand liberation from servitude for
both her `self ' and her people.
translation and salvation

In her short poetical piece, Òn Being Brought from Africa to
America', composed in 1768, Wheatley achieves an illuminating
articulation of miscegenetic identity, in which the meeting point
between Africa and the west is located within a synthesis of
metaphors of spiritual autobiography and transatlantic translation.
As the continuous verb of the title suggests, and the titles of other
poems such as Òn Mrs WÐÐ's Voyage to England', À Farewell to
America' and Àn Elegy on Leaving' con®rm, Wheatley's revised
concept of the self `rests' essentially upon an in®nite process of
transition, transference and translation into new beginnings and
con®gurations of identity within the black diaspora.
In its opening lines, the poet con¯ates missionary ideology with
the transportation of her `pagan' soul/self by means of a `pilgrimage'
of physical despair, spiritual redemption and ®nally, conversion:
`Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, / Taught my
benighted soul to understand / That there's a God, that there's a
Saviour too: / Once I redemption neither sought nor knew'. 42 As the
emphases upon the terms `pagan' and `saviour' indicate, and the
concluding lines reaf®rm, the poet's removal from Africa and the
`salvation' of her soul have effected, or indeed, precipitated, her
physical and intellectual enslavement, a fact that problematises her
use of the term `redemption'. Whilst her poem strategically evades
an explicit disclosure of her own experience of slavery, the linguistic
play on the racial and spiritual connotations of the phrase `benighted
soul' and the seemingly obsequious line, Ònce I redemption neither
sought nor knew', register a destabilising critique of both the
`conversion' process and Christianity itself, by one who claims to
have absorbed those very ideologies.43 By con¯ating the moment of
salvation with that of her removal from Africa, (`twas mercy brought
me from my Pagan land'), Wheatley's poem highlights the close
proximity between Evangelical, commercial (the slave trade) and
colonial ideology. Her ambiguous allusions to the `salvation' occa-
sioned by her capture (her deliverance from that `native shore/the
land of errors, and Egyptian gloom')44 endeavours to de®ne the
audience of her poems as `saviours' of the African race and thereby
constructs an effective shield of `literary' impunity. Wheatley would
have found a far more explicit literary reference to transportation
and slavery in Pope's translation of Homer's Odyssey.45 Given the
popularity of radical dissenting Protestantism at the time, readers of
Wheatley's poems would have had little dif®culty in extending the
Old Testament account of the Jews' deliverance from Egypt to
subtextual demands for emancipation. Likewise, Wheatley's cryptic
reference (`Some view our sable race with scornful eye,/``Their
colour is a diabolic die'' ') presented a direct critique of pro-slavery
ideology based on theories of aesthetic alterity, (colour/dye), unpre-
cedented genocide (die) and corrupt spirituality (diabolic).46
As with the slave narratives by Wedderburn and Equiano who
succeed her, Wheatley's scriptural revisionism moves away from a
schema based exclusively upon binary opposition. Her poetry high-
lights the dialectical space existing between antithetical poles, such
as that between the internal (mind/spirit) and the external
(material/body): `Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain, / May
be re®n'd, and join th'angelic train'.47 In this way, the design of her
poems coincides with that of William Blake's Songs of Innocence and
Experience, and indeed, the mind/nature relationship articulated by
various Romantic poems.48 Her reference to the expanding àngelic
train' strategically replaced justi®cations of racial servitude based on
the racial hierarchy contained within the great chain of being.
Instead, Wheatley's poems advance a con®guration of identity based
on concepts of constant ¯ux, transmigration and transmutation;
metamorphoses which register an important moment of cross-
cultural contact and anticipate the Romantic poets' de®nition of the
imagination and the nature of poetry. Over four decades later, in his
Biographia Literaria: Or, Biographical Sketches of My Literary Life and
Opinions (1817) Coleridge described the èsemplastic power' of the
secondary imagination as that which `dissolves, diffuses, dissipates,
in order to recreate'.49
In her elegiac composition, Òn the Death of the Revd Dr Sewall'
(1769), Wheatley mourned the death of another of her most trusted
spiritual guides, Dr. Joseph Sewall. Son of diarist Chief Justice
Samuel Sewall, who had written The Selling of Joseph (1700), the ®rst
antislavery tract published in New England, Dr Sewall had been the
principal minister of the Old South Church in Boston.50 Wheatley's
mythologisation of the late minister presented him as a warning
`prophet' of spiritual liberationist ideology and divine inspiration:
`the Spirit of our God'.51 However, her lament transcended the
prescribed limits of elegy in its prioritisation of Sewall's more radical
social vision: `Come, let us all with the same vigour rise / And take a
prospect of the blissful skies; / While on our minds Christ's image is
imprest, / And the dear Saviour glows in ev'ry breast'.52 Alongside
the sense of loss felt at her mentor's death, Sewall's sancti®ed state is
identi®ed as the same state to which all those who are enslaved may
aspire: Ò when shall we to his blest state arrive? / When the same
graces in our bosoms thrive'.53 Hence Wheatley's appropriation of
spiritual discourse fuses with an emancipatory design which de®nes
the slave in terms beyond the economic or intellectual.
Continuing this genre of poetic requiem, Wheatley's poem, Òn
the Death of that Celebrated Divine, and Eminent Servant of Jesus
Christ, the late Reverend, and pious George White®eld, Chaplain to
the Right Honourable Countess of Huntingdon', ®rst appeared as a
broadside in Boston in 1770. Dedicated to the `Voice of the Great
Awakening', George White®eld, the personal chaplain to the poet's
own patroness, Wheatley's poem was subsequently printed in The
Massachusetts Spy (11 October 1770) and later republished in Newport,
Boston, New York and Philadelphia.54 In his controversial `Letter to
the Inhabitants of Maryland, Virginia, North and South Carolina',
White®eld, in his capacity as abolitionist and evangelist, had con-
demned slaveholders as abhorrent violators of God's law and had, in
a signi®cantly radical gesture, condoned pending slave insurrections:
I have wondered, that we have no more instances of Self-Murder among
the Negroes, or that they have not more frequently rose up in Arms against
their owners . . . And tho' I heartily pray god they may never be permitted
to get the upper Hand . . . all good Men must acknowledge the Judgement
would be just.55
As an evangelical crusader, White®eld made seven journeys to

America and may have resided with the Wheatleys in Boston less
than a week before his death in Newburyport, Massachusetts. 56
White®eld's continuous pilgrimages between England and America
anticipated Wheatley's own voyaging of 1773, and her elegy may
have accompanied the vessel carrying news of White®eld's death
back to England. Likewise, the co-existence of White®eld's popu-
larity in England and its colonies and the publication of Wheatley's
volume of poetry must have intensi®ed the dialogue between aboli-
tionists and dissenting radicals on both sides of the Atlantic.
Wheatley's poem, the ®rst to attract the Countess of Huntingdon's
attention, attributed White®eld's passionate preachings to his desire
`to see America excel', a possibility which both he and the poet
deemed as incompatible with America's continued involvement in
the slave trade.57 Hence Wheatley extended the minister's vigorous
claims for ìmpartial' salvation to repentant Americans and to those
still enslaved: `Take him my dear Americans, he said, / Be your
complaints on his kind bosom laid: / Take him, ye Africans, he longs
for you, / Impartial Saviour is his title due'.58 By addressing the
Countess of Huntingdon directly, Wheatley's poem underscored the
slaves' need of èffective' (Methodist) patronage if abolition was to be
achieved without violence: `Great Countess, we Americans revere / Thy
name, and mingle in thy grief sincere; / New England deeply feels, the
Orphans mourn, / Their more than father will no more return'. 59 By
situating the Countess as the slaves' surrogate maternal guardian
and the Revd White®eld as their spiritual father, the poet advocated
a spiritual economy in which the òrphans of New England' (its
slaves) were to be `returned' to England's shore by means of a
literary and spiritual umbilical cord. In the broadside version
circulated in London (known as Variant II), this relationship
between evangelicalism and the success of the slaves' struggle for
liberation was made unmistakably clear: Ìf you will walk in Grace's
heavenly Road, / He'll make you free, and Kings, and Priests to
God'.60 However, in the version included in the Poems on Various
Subjects, this fusion of spiritual with physical liberation was subdued
and the concept of redemption limited to a spiritual rather than
physical realm: `Wash'd in the fountain of redeeming blood,/ You
shall be sons, and kings, and priests to God'.61
In October 1773, Wheatley wrote to David Wooster giving him
details of her recent manumission, which she de®ned as the `desire
of my friends in England'. Nevertheless, as the poet acknowledged,
whilst political freedom was something to be revered, in the absence
of socioeconomic security, such freedom was, in effect, seriously
undermined. For this reason, Wheatley con®rmed the interrelation-
ship between artistic talent and economic freedom and emphasised
her dependence upon her audience's consumerism. In so doing, she
acknowledged the complex interaction between her àutobiographi-
cal' narrative and ®nancial market forces:
I beg the favour that you would honour the enclos'd Proposals, & use your
interest with Gentlemen & Ladies of your acquaintance to subscribe also,
for the more subscribers there are, the more it will be for my advantage as I am to
have half the Sale of the Books.62
Again, the lines which followed the (possibly ghosted) London
version of Òn the Death of George White®eld' unashamedly
proclaimed the economic aims behind the pamphlet's (re)publication,
sold in aid of à poor Family burnt out a few weeks since near
Shoreditch Church'.63 For Wheatley, this concern with socio-
economic and political autonomy was signi®cantly interdependent
upon an attestation of African culture.
philip quaque and phillis wheatley

Let us not sell our birthright for a thousand worlds.
In her letter of 30 October 1773 to her close friend Miss Obour
Tanner (a slave possibly transported with her aboard the same slave
ship), Wheatley constructed a tripartite analogy between her own
`spiritual' salvation, the `recovery' of her health and what she termed
the recovery of her people's `birthright': `Let us not sell our birth-
right for a thousand worlds, which indeed would be as dust upon the
balance'. In this text, composed only days after informing Wooster
of her manumission and named for inclusion in the proposed
volume of 1779, Wheatley's reference to `the birthright' is signi®-
cantly ambiguous in its reference to her belief in her right to spiritual
and physical liberty and, more importantly, to her continued belief
in her people's need to preserve their cultural identity.64
In a subsequent letter to the Revd Samuel Hopkins, 6 May 1774,
Wheatley noted the failure of Philip Quaque's missionary efforts to
convert the indigenous people of the West African Coast: Ì am very
sorry to hear, that Philip Quaque has very little or no apparent
Success in his mission . . . Let us not be discouraged, but still hope,
that God will bring about his great work'. 65 Bearing in mind that
Hopkins was one of the most prominent ®gures of the Great
Awakening in New England, Wheatley's comments on Quaque's
activities merit further attention. In this letter, Wheatley suggested
that Quaque might not provide the most effective means of perform-
ing the work of the `Divine Hand . . . this work of wonder': that is,
the redemption of Africa, `from darkness to light'. Wheatley's
recommendations that Quaque use alternative methods of `conversion'
underscore the dichotomy existing between Quaque's religious
òrthodoxy' and the ¯uid, protean and hence more compatible
nature of dissenting Protestantism:
Possibly, if Philip would introduce himself properly to them, (I don't know
the reverse) he might be more Successful, and in setting a good example
which is more powerfully winning than Instruction.66
Born in 1741 at `Cape Coast', a town just outside the principal

British settlement and trading station on the West African coast
(Cape Coast Castle, Ghana), Quaque, a member of the leading
chieftain `Cudjo' family, was sent to England in 1754 under the
sponsorship of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in
Foreign Parts (the S.P.G.) at the age of thirteen.67 There, Quaque
(whose Fanti name `Kweku' denoted a male child born on a
Wednesday) was placed under the tutorship of Revd John Moore of
Charterhouse Street, London, baptised at St Mary's Church,
Islington in 1759 and subsequently ordained as a minister of the
Church of England.68 In 1766, nearly eight years before Wheatley's
letter, Quaque returned to the Gold Coast as a missionary to his
own people at Cape Coast Castle, having married a white woman
named Catherine Blunt.69
Quaque's appointment as missionary to Cape Coast was spon-
sored by the S.P.G. in association with the Company of Merchants
Trading to Africa, an organised body of British merchants engaged
in the slave trade and charged with the management of forti®ed
posts along the African coast. Since their establishment in the late
®fteenth century these forts had effectively combined commercial
objectives with enterprises hinged upon the dissemination of Euro-
pean culture.70 Therefore, Wheatley's criticism of Quaque's activ-
ities were not con®ned to a critique of his religious orthodoxy.
Rather, it challenged his inherently ambiguous position as a Church
of England missionary at a British Fort in Africa and, by implication,
condemned the S.P.G.'s continued links with the commercial activ-
ities of the slave trade and colonialism. As her letter to John
Thornton, dated 30 October 1774, humorously but adamantly
indicated, unlike Quaque, Wheatley did not intend to assist the
missionary movement in Africa. Rather, she brushed the proposition
aside with vague disclaimers which prioritised the probable linguistic
dif®culties and the possible danger to her health that the `new'
environment would bring:
Upon my arrival [in Ghana, Africa], how like a Barbarian shou'd I look to
the Natives; I can promise that my tongue shall be quiet/for a strong
reason indeed/being an utter stranger to the language of Anamaboe.71
In contrast, Wheatley suggested an alternative means of improving

her condition, a solution which combined demands for socio-
economic freedom with the discourse prescribed by radical dis-
senting Protestantism ± `Let me be a servant of Christ and that is the
most perfect freedom'. Juxtaposed with Wheatley's poetical design,
Quaque's purist approach to Christian propagandising appeared
futile in its orthodox in¯exibility. By contrast, Wheatley's work
stressed that the dynamics of nonconformist dissent held the key to
both sociopolitical emancipation and the development of transcul-
tural, `miscegenetic' epistemologies.
During the next half-century Quaque continued his detailed
correspondence with the S.P.G. but it was seven years before he
received his ®rst reply (February 1773) and over the next twenty years
he received only two others. On 13 March 1765, Quaque's letter to
the S.P.G. expressed his desire to bring the `truth of the glorious light
of the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour' to those `Wretched creatures
. . . now languishing under despair'.72 However, in a letter to Revd
Dr Daniel Burton, then Secretary of the S.P.G. (28 September 1766)
written from his new post at Cape Coast just eighteen months later,
Quaque lamented the failure of his mission, Àll my hopes, I am
afraid, are in vain . . . number of communicants none'.73 Quaque's
letter revealed the desperately unhealthy conditions of the British
fort (`the third part out of ®ve and twenty Soldiers dead'), `the
fatigue of performing . . . the Service' and his wife's imminent death,
just one year after their marriage. In a subsequent letter of 1767,
Quaque described the continued polytheism of the indigenous
people, those ìlliterate' West Africans, as having grown `more
degenerate than before'.74 The most serious of all Quaque's mis-
sionary dif®culties stemmed from the fact that his appropriation of
western cultural ideologies had in fact been `too successful', leaving
him alienated from his fellow Africans and bereft of his African
`tongue' which, in a letter of October 1781, he denounced as a `vile
jargon'.75
Likewise, in his letter of 17 January 1778, Quaque described the
African funeral ceremony of one of his close kinsmen, the Fanti
nobleman, government intermediary and linguist, Cudjo Caboceer,
as not only laughable but as `curious withal', à horrid and cruel
Tradition . . . of infamous Rites'. According to Quaque, this ritual
àbsolutely shew[d] the Depravity and Obduracy of their Stubborn
Hearts', which for him could only be redeemed by the `Grace of
God . . . and the prevailing operations of the Spirit':
[The] scene appeared to me more like their harvest feasts than that of
mourning or sorrow . . . The generality of them equipped with their
warlike apparel. Some are covered with a cap of a tiger's skin, others again
with deer's, a third the skins of monkeys . . . They likewise paint
themselves, both men and women, some with white chalk, others yellow
earth . . . But the most detestable scene in all their actions is the barbarous
and inhuman practice of sacri®cing innocent lives as attendances to the great folks
only in the other world, which diabolical custom and a mistaken vile notion
seems to prevail much with them.76
Quaque's hopes for the Africans' deliverance by means of the
`prevailing operations of the spirit' connoted not the dynamics of
cultural synthesis, but the imposition of a theological doctrine
unaffected by African belief systems. It was little wonder, therefore,
that an undeniable pessimism permeated those letters which
described his ùnsuccessful mission'.77
In a letter of 8 February 1786, Quaque made a rare reference to
the slave trade and gave an account of a slave mutiny on board a
Dutch trading-vessel, during which over one hundred slaves `took
possession of the vessel' and participated in what he termed a
`scheme of subtlety and art'. Such a paradigm of insurrection was
not, however, embraced by Quaque himself, nor did the desertion of
the fort by `castle slaves' months later prompt any radical critique or
abandonment of his `missionary' activities. And yet Quaque's letter
denounced the inhumanity of the Dutch Captain's ìndiscriminate'
destruction of the ship and the murder of ùpwards of three or four
hundred' of its crew. However, Quaque's use of the term ìndiscrimi-
nate' was not in itself unproblematic; rather, it suggested a polarisa-
tion, at least in his mind, between the rebellious slave
insurrectionists and other passive `victims' of the slave trade. Nor did
the problem rest here. If Quaque's letters are regarded as instances
of `textual' autobiography, and if, as Foucault and de Man suggest,
autobiography constitutes a literary èxorcism' of guilt, there is a
sense that Quaque's epistles, despite their missionary beliefs, contain
a `confessional' narrative of self-condemnation over his indirect
ìnvolvement' in the activity of British colonialism; his sense of `guilt'
over his voluntary severance from his family and friends and his
abandonment of his mother tongue; and, ®nally, in Wheatley's
words, his feelings of shame over his `betrayal' of his cultural
`birthright'.78
recollection and redemption

On 11 February 1774, Phillis Wheatley composed a letter to her
friend, Samson Occom, the famous Mohegan Indian Presbyterian
preacher, activist, and author of A Choice of Hymns and Spiritual Songs
(1766). In this letter, Wheatley employed a linguistic discourse which
carefully juggled theological tenets of salvation and redemption with
corresponding sociopolitical considerations and critically identi®ed
colonisers as redemptive ìnvaders' of Africa.79 Likewise, she implied
that the concerns of those colonialist invaders were irreconcilably
distinct from `the divine light' which had come to chase away `the
thick Darkness' of Africa (`the chaos which has reigned so long') and
the `glorious dispensation of civil and religious liberty'. Subtly
therefore, Wheatley's text, published in The Massachusetts Spy (24
March 1774), The Boston Post Boy (21 March 1774) and in The
Connecticut Journal (1 April 1774) identi®ed the complex interface
between spiritual `conversion' and western narratives of evangelic-
alism, colonialism and exploitation. In colonial ideology, as in
Hegelian terminology, Africa, prior to the dissemination of this
divine `light', ®gured as a land of darkness and chaos. In Wheatley's
text, however, Christianity and its accompanying missionary enter-
prises remain unnamed referents. What emerges as paramount in
her letter, therefore, is not an endorsement of conversion ideology
but an advancement of a discourse of what she (extending natural
law theories such as those advocated by Rousseau and anticipating
Richard Price and Mary Wollstonecraft by over a decade) termed a
`vindication of natural rights'. Contradicting the established pattern
of traditional spiritual autobiographies, Wheatley determined spirit-
ual redemption as invalid without its sociopolitical counterpart:
The glorious Dispensation of civil and religious Liberty, which are so
inseparably united, that there is little or no Enjoyment of one without the
other: Otherwise, perhaps, the Israelites had been less solicitous for their
Freedom from Egyptian Slavery.80
By drawing an effective comparison between her own struggles

and those of the Israelites under Egyptian slavery, Wheatley trans-
lated the plight of the diasporic peoples into the dynamics of
scriptural narrative and thereby fused the discourse of the spirit with
emancipatory rhetoric: Ìn every human Breast, God has implanted
a Principle, which we call Love of Freedom; it is impatient of
Oppression, and pants for deliverance; and by the Leave of our
Modern Egyptians I will assert, that the same Principle lives in us'.81
Her delineation of this principle (`the [soul's] cry for Liberty')
anticipated Wordsworth's concern over the ìnsurrectionary' power
of the imagination as an agent of spiritual and emotional liberation.
Similarly, in her poem, Òn Imagination', Wheatley described the
poetic process in terms saturated with images of unbounded mental
movement and ¯ight, phrases which, as Shields points out, had
appeared almost three decades earlier in Mark Akenside's The
Pleasures of Imagination: A Poem. In Three Books (1744) and Edward
Young's The Complaint, or Night Thoughts (1742±1745).82 Mounted upon
the imagination's `pinions', the poet reaches a state of spiritual
ecstasy which transgresses and surpasses western cultural bound-
aries. Leaving the `rolling universe behind' on this imaginative/
spiritual ¯ight, the poet participates in the creative and imaginative
world of the deity:
Imagination! who can sing thy force?
Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?
Soaring through air to ®nd the bright abode,
Th'empyreal palace of the thund'ring God,
We on thy pinions can surpass the wind,
And leave the rolling universe behind:
From star to star the mental optics rove,
Measure the skies, and range the realms above.
There in one view we grasp the mighty whole,
Or with new worlds amaze th'unbounded soul.83
This relationship between the power of imagination and liberation
from the enslavement of the self/mind was to form a recurring
symbolism in Romantic ideology. In Wordsworth's Prelude, this
`spiritual' blessing (à gift that consecrates the joy') would concur
with Wheatley's liberation from spiritual (and physical) bondage:
Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
That blows from the green ®elds and from the clouds . . .
O welcome messenger! O welcome friend!
A captive greets thee, coming from a house
Of bondage, from yon city's walls set free,
A prison where he hath been long immured.
Now I am free, enfranchised and at large . . .84
Similarly, Coleridge's Èolian Harp' (1795) would distinguish the
revivifying `breeze' as a metaphor for poetic inspiration, whilst his
conversation poems, `This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison' (1797),
`Frost at Midnight' (1798) and `Dejection: An Ode' (1802) presented
the resurgence of the imagination amidst metaphors describing
escape from domestic captivity and promises of divine possibility:
`But now af¯ictions bow me down to earth: / Nor care I that they
rob me of my mirth; / But oh! each visitation / Suspends what
nature gave me at my birth, / My shaping spirit of Imagination'.85
In Wheatley's poem, the plea for liberation registered abolitionist
discourse as a valid manifestation of imaginative freedom. As a
consequence, and in accordance with the poems by William Cowper,
the power of the imagination was determined as an ùnstoppable'
force that would inspire other `northern tempests' ± the violent
storms of insurrection / emancipation:
Though Winter frowns to Fancy's raptur'd eyes
The ®elds may ¯ourish, and gay scenes arise;
The frozen deeps may break their iron bands,
And bid their waters murmur o'er the sands
Such is thy pow'r [Imagination]
And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought.86
In her poem, `To the Right Honourable William (Legge), Earl of
Dartmouth', friend of the Countess and supporter of the Methodist
Movement in England, Wheatley continued her previous correlation
between America's struggle for liberation from British tyranny
(1775±1781) and her `love of Freedom': Ì, young in life, by seeming
cruel fate / Was snatched from Afric's fancy'd happy seat . . . /
Steel'd was that soul and by no misery mov'd / That from a father
seiz'd his babe belov'd'.87 Wheatley's choice of addressee, the
Secretary of State for the Colonies and President of the Board of
Trade and Foreign Plantation (`His Majesty's Principal Secretary of
State for North America, &c.') con®rms that the poet was deeply
aware of the subtle interrelationship between the dynamics of
evangelism and the political climate of the 1780s.88 By ®guring the
Earl as an important factor in the endeavour to overthrow the
`wanton Tyranny' which had enslaved America, Wheatley skilfully
interwove a narrative of England's potential abolitionist role with
her own autobiographical narrative of spiritual salvation. As in her
earlier poem, Òn Being Brought from Africa to America', Wheatley
identi®ed her capture and enslavement as a `seeming cruel fate', a
phrase which paradoxically likened her postlapsarian state to Adam
and Eve's `fortunate fall' and determined her severance from Africa
as a state of exile from the Garden of Eden. Whilst she implied that
her spiritual development would have remained incomplete without
her `fortunate' encounter with Christianity, cultural severance is
nevertheless redetermined as a merciless and intrinsically vicious act
± `Steel'd was that soul and by no misery mov'd'.
For the peoples of the diaspora, as Wheatley seems well aware, the
preservation of identity relied essentially upon a conscious and
rigorous preservation of individual and cultural memory. Likewise, it
depended upon the maintenance of a counter-discourse to those
ideologies which had determined Africa as an entity without history
or memory. Accordingly, in her poem, Òn Recollection', composed
in late 1771 and included in the Poems on Various Subjects, Wheatley
pledges her honour to `Mneme', a synthesis of Mnemosyme (the
Greek goddess of memory and the muses) and Mneme (the older
goddess of remembrance): `Mneme begin. Inspire, ye sacred nine, /
Your vent'rous Afric in her great design./ Mneme, immortal pow'r, I
trace thy spring: / Assist my strains, while I thy glories sing'. Hence,
Wheatley's ostensibly abolitionist text proclaimed the powerful
relationship between cultural memory (`nocturnal visions') and
Mneme's divine vengeance against those who scorned her warnings.
For Wheatley, Mneme, like Keats' Moneta, embodied a permanent
recollection of past sufferings, `the acts of long departed years, by
thee / Recover'd':
By her unveil'd each horrid crime appears,
Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears.
Days, years mispent, O what a hell of woe!
Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know.89
Wheatley's `Mneme' (like Equiano's Àffoe-wah') forms a continuum

with Achilles' servant, Mnemon, who reminds his master of events
prophesied by the oracle. Consequently, the poet is transported
through the àmple treasure' of Mneme's secret stores and in this
state of trance-like rapture, cultural memory is identi®ed as the very
essence of `spiritual' poetry.90 Furthermore, Òn Recollection'
carries with it coded references to African beliefs in the discontin-
uous link between the self and the community of dead ancestors ±
those guardian spirits who protect and guide their descendants.
Hence, Wheatley's poem presents a subtle alternative to white /
western ideologies and epistemology. For her, disremembrance (the
erasure of cultural memory) constitutes an insidious form of self-
imposed amnesia or temporal estrangement. Whereas the travesties
in¯icted upon her people, the `follies of that period', appear to have
been forgotten, Wheatley's poem insists upon their permanent inscrip-
tion on both the personal and collective memory:
Now eighteen years their destin'd course have run,
In fast succession round the central sun.
How did the follies of that period pass
Unnotic'd, but behold them writ in brass!
In Recollection see them fresh return,
And sure 'tis mine to be asham'd, and mourn.91
Accordingly, Wheatley extends the power of recollection, the `pow'r
enthron'd in ev'ry breast', to a cultural dimension in line with
African belief systems in the diaspora. The power of recollection is
also strategically linked to a radical form of sociopolitical trans-
formation, via its relationship with divine retribution, revelation and
apocalypse. Wheatley's poem, therefore, prophesied the moment in
which the `thrice blest man' (or slave) would awaken to ®nd himself
`shelter'd from the wrath divine' in `Recollection's sacred shrine'.
Conversely, those wretches who had `dar'd the vengeance of the
skies' would ®nd themselves in an unenviable state of `horror and
surprise'.92
For Wheatley, therefore, the act of recollection registers a process
not con®ned to the individual's cerebral sphere but ®rmly located
within the more extensive boundaries of historical and cultural
narrative. Her evocation of `recollection' thus differed signi®cantly
from concepts of memory described by the Romantics and their
established precursors. Anticipating the work of Toni Morrison,
Wheatley's concept of `recollection' identi®ed the act of `re-mem-
brance' as a crucial form of cultural preservation in the diaspora.
According to Margaretta Odell, Wheatley's nineteenth-century bi-
ographer, the poet cherished a memory of her mother pouring
`water before the sun at his rising in reference, no doubt, to an
ancient African custom'.93 Wheatley's reinscription of erased cul-
tural memory and her subtle disclosure of African beliefs identi®es
an African cultural inheritance at odds with tenets of orthodox
Christianity. Thus her work offers a poetical assimilation of the
discourse of radical dissenting Protestantism by ex-slaves and simul-
taneously reveals a hybridised text of cultural and epistemological
interaction, a form which was to be further developed within the
autobiographical narrative by the ex-slave, Olaudah Equiano.
chapter eight
Olaudah Equiano's Interesting Narrative
Two years after the publication of Thoughts and Sentiments, Ottobah

Cugoano's friend, Olaudah Equiano published his slave narrative,
The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa,
the African, Written By Himself (1789), a two-volume work which
marked a crucial stage in the development of literary autobiographi-
cal works by slaves. Equiano's text, which was frequently republished
over a period of thirty years, presented a detailed description of
displaced cultural identity in the black diaspora previously suggested
by Phillis Wheatley's work. Equiano's work represented a ful®lment
of the bicultural, creolised tactics of the earlier slave narratives and
registered a signi®cant penetration of the political legislature by a
black autobiographical voice.1 As its subtitle, `Written by Himself ',
suggested and the signed engraving of the black author holding a
Bible upon his lap con®rmed, Equiano's text, named by the founder
of Methodism, John Wesley, as one of his favourite works, presented
a deliberate intersection between the discourse of radical dissenting
Protestantism, African culture and the political antislavery milieu
which permeated late eighteenth-century England.2 Equiano was, as
Edwards, Dabydeen, Potkay and Hofkosh have suggested, one of a
number of politically visible Africans in London in the late 1780s: he
was a government employee; he served on the Committee for the
Relief of the Black Poor; his letters were frequently published in the
Public Advertiser; he travelled throughout Britain to advance his
abolitionist concerns and liaised with in¯uential political activists,
including Granville Sharp.3
By assuming the literary structure of the conversion narratives,
Equiano's text established a prototype of the slaves' endeavour to
recreate identity within the diaspora, by means of a tactical revision
of the spiritualised discourse characteristic of the autobiographical
genre.4 In this account of his past, Equiano achieved a creolised
226
Olaudah Equiano's Interesting Narrative 227
Fig. 5. Frontispiece, The Interesting Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African.
Halifax: J. Nicholson, 1814.
(re)construction of `himself ' in terms of spiritual and political
displacement, and thereby posed a signi®cant challenge to negations
of Africans' spiritual capacities and cultural attributes contained
within colonial ideology.
Dedicated strategically to `The Lords Spiritual and Temporal,
and the Commons of the Parliament of Great Britain', Equiano's
Interesting Narrative demonstrated a conscious effort to ascribe spiritual
enlightenment to the political arena and hence ascertain the impor-
tance of the relationship between spiritual intervention, the `myster-
ious ways of Providence' and parliamentary decisions concerning
the abolition of the slave trade:
Permit me, with the greatest deference and respect, to lay at your feet the
following genuine Narrative; the chief design of which is to excite in your
august assemblies a sense of compassion for the miseries which the Slave-
Trade has entailed on my unfortunate countrymen. By the horrors of that
trade was I ®rst torn away from all the tender connexions that were
naturally dear to my heart; but these, through the mysterious ways of Providence, I
ought to regard as in®nitely more than compensated by the introduction I have thence
obtained of the knowledge of the Christian religion, and of a nation which, by its
liberal sentiments, its humanity, the glorious freedom of its government, and its
pro®ciency in arts and sciences, has exalted the dignity of human nature.5
Accordingly, in his role as an itinerant black representative
sponsored by the Abolition Committee, Equiano's voice penetrated
the stronghold of Parliament through his communication with
Granville Sharp, whom he noti®ed of the abhorrent circumstances
of the Zong incident (in which 132 Africans were deliberately
drowned at sea in order to secure insurance compensation). Equiano
also rigorously participated in the Abolitionist Committee's intense
lobbying of individual members of Parliament; and it was Equiano
who, having been appointed as Commissionary of Stores in 1786,
initiated an exposure of the corruption implicit in the Government's
`repatriation' scheme of London's black poor to the colony of Sierra
Leone.6 As the list of subscribers cited in the Preface to the 1789
edition of the Interesting Narrative suggests, Equiano's efforts were
purposefully directed towards a predominantly Evangelical forum,
which included the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Marlborough, the
Earl of Dartmouth, Lady Ann Erskine, the Countess of Huntingdon,
Hannah More, Mrs J. Baillie, Henry Thornton, Thomas Clarkson,
and the Revd John Wesley.
Equiano's text, reprinted eight times in Great Britain during the
author's lifetime (1745±1797), was reviewed by two London publica-
tions. In July 1789, a reviewer in The Monthly Review emphasised the
`honest face' of the narrative, proclaiming that he believed the `sable
author' to have been `guided by principle' and not one of those, who
`having undergone the ceremony of baptism were content with only
that part of the Christian Religion'.7 In July 1789, The Gentleman's
Magazine and Impartial Review veri®ed the `truth and simplicity' of
Equiano's `round unvarnished tale' and pledged its support of the
author's wish to remove the `stain on the legislature of Britain'
regarding its involvement with the slave trade. Similarly, in the
Preface to the 1814 variant published in Leeds by James Nichols
(which carried the Àm I Not a Man or Brother?' motif on the title-
page), the editor validated the authenticity of the tale in terms of its
af®nity to confessional autobiography, de®ning it as à round unvar-
nished tale of sufferings . . . endured' and a `true relation of occur-
rences which had taken place'.8 The editor of that 1814 edition
claimed that the authenticity of Equiano's memories of his life as a
slave were unquestionable and criticised the `hostile response of
several bene®ciaries displayed by the slave trade' in their efforts to
invalidate Equiano's testimony `by accusing him of wilful false-
hoods'.9
Equiano's Interesting Narrative described how its author, transported
across the Atlantic to the West Indies at the age of twelve, was
renamed Michael and then sold to an American slave-trader, Mr
Campbell, who renamed him Jacob and set him to work on a
plantation in Virginia until 1756/7. He was then purchased by an
English naval of®cer, Michael Pascal, who substituted the name of a
Swedish king, Gustavus Vassa, for the author's Ibo name and took
him to England. For many years, Equiano served Pascal both on
land and at sea and participated in the Seven Years' War against
France and her colonies (1756±1763). He was, however, eventually
resold to Captain James Doran, for whom he worked for several
years on the island of Montserrat in the West Indies. In 1763, Doran
sold Equiano to Robert King (a Quaker merchant); from this time
onwards Equiano sailed with Captain Thomas Farmer as a West
Indian and North American slaver and trader until he managed to
buy his freedom in July 1766, using the capital he had raised by petty
trading.10 Equiano returned to England during 1767 and again ten
years later, in January 1777. In Equiano's text, emphasis on the sea
(that `no man's land') functions as a signi®er of the author's cultural
displacement and territorial dispossession, together with the ¯uid,
protean nature of his efforts to reconstruct his identity within the
diaspora. Accordingly, Equiano's detailed account of his naval
experiences during Captain Pascal's quick succession of promotions
in the Royal Navy, his maritime adventures in 1758 under Admiral
Boscawen and during England's Seven Years' War against France,
his voyage to the Arctic in 1772 and his travels as a gentleman's valet
throughout a tour of the Mediterranean and the Caribbean, all
register his continued sense of displacement and `rootlessness' since
the time of his capture.
In an attempt to establish the validity of his autobiographical script
and to posit Africa as a veritable paradise exercising its own estab-
lished system of ethical codes, Equiano's Interesting Narrative opens with
a detailed account of Ibo life and society in the village of Essaka (now
Issake, Nigeria). As Catherine Acholonu comments, Equiano's use of
the `-q-' and the `-e-' (which do not exist in Ibo orthography) to
transcribe the Ibo sounds `-kw-' and `/i/' con®rms his endeavours to
transcribe West African language into a written form and to translate
tenets of African culture into the apparatus of western discourse.11
Equiano's correlation of Africa with the biblical Land of Promise
hence prescribes an effective transfer of cultural autobiography on to
a form of religious dissent, heavily encoded with abolitionist ideology.
As his testimony traces the journey of his own personal salvation, his
text looks forward to the `salvation' of his people by means of abolition
and emancipation. Likewise, as his text attempts to compare African
culture with the account of Jewish culture contained in the Scrip-
tures, his efforts to decentre pervasive theories of polygenesis and
`demythologise' narratives which determined Africa as an essentially
undeveloped and (sexually) volatile state, rely upon his counter-
depiction of African society as a `civilised' cultural entity:
And here I cannot forbear suggesting what has long struck me very forcibly,
namely, the strong analogy which even by this sketch, imperfect as it is,
appears to prevail in the manners and customs of my countrymen and
those of the Jews, before they reached the Land of Promise, and particularly
the patriarchs while they were yet in that pastoral state which is described
in Genesis ± an analogy, which alone would induce me to think that the one
people had sprung from the other. Indeed this is the opinion of Dr Gill, who, in
his commentary on Genesis, very ably deduces the pedigree of the Africans
from Afer and Afra, the descendants of Abraham by Keturah his wife and
concubine.12
As to the colour difference between Iboan Africans and the modern
Jews, Equiano does `not presume to account for it'; rather, he
tellingly cites a `fact as related by Dr. Mitchel' and Thomas Clarkson
which proffers a climactic explanation of differences in skin colour.
Yet by using such an explanation, Equiano endeavours to destabilise
theoretical con®gurations of polygenesis and racial difference by
means of a strategic narrative of cultural hybridity and racial ¯uidity:
`The Spaniards, who have inhabited America, under the torrid zone,
for any time, are become as dark coloured as our native Indians of
Virginia'.13 By highlighting the consequences of the sexual intermin-
glings between Portuguese settlers and natives of the Mitomba
settlement in Sierra Leone, whom he declares, have `now become in
their complexion, and in the woolly quality of their hair, perfect
negroes, retaining, however, a smattering of the Portuguese language',
Equiano's words reveal a radical exposeÂ of the dynamics of cultural
miscegenation, a process which proves an appropriate paradigm for
his own text.
Composed some thirty years after his capture, Equiano's narrative
of displacement is framed by what Stuart Hall has de®ned as an
inevitable consequence of cultural dispossession, an ìmaginary
plenitude' which recreates an endless desire to return to `lost
origins': a yearning to return to beginnings which `like the imaginary
in Lacan . . . can neither be ful®lled nor acquired'. 14 In accordance
with this argument, Equiano's text con®rms that the moment
preceding cultural contact can never again be achieved. His narrative
of African culture therefore hinges upon a form of `symbolic'
discourse in which the elements of representation, memory and
myth are prioritised. For this reason, whereas his Interesting Narrative
appears to manifest àrtless' autobiography, his work reveals a close
interaction with a variety of established texts, including Constantine
Phipps' A Journey of a Voyage Towards the North Pole (1774), Anthony
Benezet's Some Historical Account of Guinea (1771) and Thomas Clark-
son's Essay on Slavery (1789).15 This textual interrelationship deter-
mines the subtextual agendas of Equiano's text, most especially its
correlation with abolitionism, cultural àutobiography' and its rela-
tion with radical dissenting Protestantism. In accordance with
Antony Benezet's description of Guinea as that part of Africa which
èxtends along the coast three or four thousand miles. Beginning at
the river Senegal . . . the land of Guinea . . . [includes] the Grain
Coast; the Ivory Coast; the Gold Coast and the Slave Coast, with
the large kingdom of Benin' and from which the Negroes are `sold to
be carried into slavery', Equiano's ®rst chapter similarly reads:
That part of Africa, known by the name of Guinea, to which the trade for
slaves is carried on, extends along the coast above 3400 miles, from Senegal
to Angola, and includes a variety of kingdoms. Of these the most
considerable is the kingdom of Benin.16
However, whereas Benezet's Historical Account presents the natives of

Benin as a `reasonable, good-natured people', Equiano describes
them as `warlike', thereby anticipating the rebellious nature of his
own text.17 Likewise his focus upon the Ibonic rituals of circumci-
sion, sacri®cial offerings, washings and puri®cations (`this necessary
habit of decency was with us a part of religion') serves to endorse a
comparison between Ibo and Jewish culture, and more importantly,
to erode the ideological and epistemological boundaries between
African culture and the west. In its effort to establish its position as
textual intermediary between nonconformist western religious ideolo-
gies and the complex landscape of African belief systems, Equiano's
Interesting Narrative represents the most developed articulation of
epistemological and cultural synthesis contained within the slave
narratives in England published during the late 1780s.
synchronisation: west african epistemology and

radical dissenting protestantism
Ì was named Olaudah', declares Equiano at the outset of his text,
`which, in our language, signi®es vicissitude or fortunate', as well as
òne favoured, and having a loud voice and well spoken'.18 This
statement establishes the author's select position within the frame-
work of spiritual development advanced by dissenting Protestantism,
yet his words also register his identi®cation with Ibo culture and his
father's honoured position as an Èmbrenche', a term of `the highest
distinction' and signifying ìn our language a mark of grandeur'.19
Furthermore, the absence of this visual signi®er of distinction (a thick
wale formed by cutting the skin across the top of the forehead) upon
his own person, serves to mark Equiano's interrupted cultural
destiny. This in turn con®rms the correlation between the author's
Ibo name and the denial of his privileged status in Benin, Ì also was
destined to receive it by my appellation'. It is a status permanently
interrupted by his forced enslavement, transportation and subse-
quent renaming by cultural others.20
On one level, Equiano's text endeavours to trace its author's sense
of election within a speci®c cultural arena (Ì remember many
[people] used to come to see me, and I was carried about to others
for that purpose') on to a framework of divine election established by
the conversion narratives. Hence, in the opening chapter of his
Interesting Narrative, Equiano, in the same vein as the dissenting
Protestants, Wesley and Newton, exclaims that he regarded himself
à particular favourite of Heaven' who acknowledged the `mercies of
Providence' in every occurrence of his life.21 This prioritisation of
Christian providentialism is, however, antagonised by the author's
implicit approval of the Ibo concept of `chi', the personal spirit of
destiny, as maintained by West African epistemology: `Those spirits,
which are not transmigrated, such as their dear friend or relations,
they believe always attend them, and guard them from the bad
spirits or their foes'.22 Therefore Equiano's text witnesses a diasporic
synchronisation or fusion of the author's `chi' with dissenting
Protestantism's concept of the `Holy Spirit', a fusion which is
maintained, albeit problematically, throughout the text. By appro-
priating the discourse of dissenting Protestantism, Equiano's text
fuses the doctrines of divine grace, mystery and prophecy with
essential tenets of African epistemologies and manifests a literary
paradigm of cultural symbiosis. Furthermore, Equiano's Interesting
Narrative functions as a textual prototype of the `hybrid' black church
which emerged in England, America and the Caribbean during the
late eighteenth century. His account serves to endorse the essential
compatibility or rather, the potential tessellation of aspects of Ibo
culture with principles of nonconformist Protestantism. One
example of this is the author's correlation of the prophetic and
healing qualities of nonconformist ministry with the power of
African priests and magicians, the Àh-affoe-way-cah', to calculate
time, foretell events, heal wounds and expel poisons. Both systems of
belief demonstrated a rejection of institutionalised places of worship
(`Though we had no places of worship, we had priests and magi-
cians, or wise men')23 and most important of all, an emphasis upon
concepts of spirit possession and divine guidance, exempli®ed by the
intense emotional investment characteristic of dissenting Protestants'
con®rmations of faith and the ecstatic bodily behaviour of African
initiation rites.24 This creolisation of spiritual discourse traces an
unprecedented moment of cultural intersection between Metho-
dism's concept of divine inspiration and the Ibo belief in its priests'
powers to `see' and `discover' that which is hidden and unknown.
As an af®rmation of the Ah-affoe-way-cah's powers of spiritual
discernment and revelation, Equiano's Interesting Narrative cites an
instance of the disclosure of a young virgin's murderer (the term
`young woman' being substituted for the word `virgin' in the second
edition by Wilkins) by means of the spirit-possession which over-
powers the bearers of the female corpse:
I hope it will not be deemed impertinent here to insert, as it may serve as a kind of
specimen of the rest, and is still used by the negroes in the West Indies. A virgin had
been poisoned, but it was not known by whom: the doctors ordered the
corpse to be taken up by some persons, and carried to the grave. As soon as
the bearers had raised it on their shoulders, they seemed seized with some sudden
impulse, and ran to and fro unable to stop themselves. At last, after having passed
through a number of thorns and prickly bushes unhurt, the corpse fell from
them close to a house, and defaced it in the fall; and, the owner being taken
up, he immediately confessed the poisoning.25
Although the authenticity of the Ah-affoe-way-cah's spiritual powers
is ostensibly undermined by the author's marginalisation of the Ibo
priests' `no doubt . . . unbounded in¯uence over the credulity and
superstition of the [Igbo] people', the footnote which accompanies
the above quotation presents as èvidence' a similar incident of
spirit-possession at Montserrat in the West Indies in 1763.26 This
episode, explains Equiano, was not only witnessed by himself, but
experienced by the sceptical crew of the Charming Sally, whose
physical autonomy and self-control were overpowered by the posses-
sing spirits:
I then belonged to the Charming Sally, Capt. Doran. ± The chief mate, Mr
Mans®eld, and some of the crew being one day on shore, were present at
the burying of a poisoned negro girl. Though they had often heard of the
circumstance of the running in such cases, and had even seen it, they
imagined it to be a trick of the corpse-bearers. The mate therefore desired
two of the sailors to take up the cof®n, and carry it to the grave. The
sailors, who were all of the same opinion, readily obeyed; but they had
scarcely raised it to their shoulders, before they began to run furiously
about, quite unable to direct themselves, till, at last, without intention, they
came to the hut of him who had poisoned the girl.27
It is, however, precisely Equiano's coalescence of the `heathen'
belief in fortune with the concept of divine (Christian) providence (as
suggested by the explanation he gives for his name) which most
disturbed the editor of the Leeds edition of 1814. This prompted him
to add an apologetic footnote condemning Equiano's naive and
ìndiscreet mode' of referring to God's grace `by the name of
fortune', a trait which he dismisses as èxceedingly blameworthy' but
characteristic of the `children of men':
It is a conformity to the expressions of a vain world not to be expected from
Gustavus, who generally manifests a becoming sense of the bene®ts which
he received, and a knowledge of the Blessed Fountain from whence they
issued. After censuring it as a slip of the pen, let none venture to attribute it to
atheistical motives. The tenor of his conduct and of his words belies such
an insinuation. He had heard the term thus misapplied by others, and from an
imitative habit, he thoughtlessly gave it the same appellation.28
The spiritual discourse prescribed by Equiano's Interesting Narrative
endorses a form of creolised cultural testimony which articulates a
critical dissolution of the dichotomy between the inner spiritual
being (the soul, or psychic space) and the outer physical entity (the
body, or social space) occupied by the slave. Such a dissolution
proved crucial to ideologies which advocated inalienable rights to
liberty or, more radically, advanced demands for emancipation.
Equiano's translation of this discourse of the spiritual/cultural self
into the rhetoric of radical dissenting Protestantism participates in
a linguistic and cultural exchange between Christian concepts of
the holy `spirit' on the one hand, and Ibo beliefs in the active
presence of the spiritual worlds and the transmigration of souls on
the other:
As to religion, the natives believe that there is one Creator of all things, and
that he lives in the sun . . . They believe he governs events, especially our
deaths or captivity; but, as for the doctrine of eternity, I do not remember
to have ever heard of it: some however believe in the transmigration of
souls in a certain degree.29
His autobiographical account of his `decipherment' of the crew on
board the slave ship establishes a decoding of obscured meaning
onto `plain text' and inaugurates a designation of Europeans (and
their ideologies) within a context of African epistemology. As part of
this process, the author ìnterprets' the presence of the slavers in
terms of his own native belief system, thereby identifying the traders
as `people full of nothing but magical arts': Ì was in another world,
and that everything about me was magic'.30 This reinterpretation of
the Europeans as `spirits' from another world is continued by the
author's account of his loss of autonomy in their presence, another
form of `spirit possession':
These ®lled me with astonishment, which was soon converted into terror
. . . I was immediately handled and tossed up to see if I were sound by
some of the crew; and I was now persuaded that I had gotten into a world
of bad spirits, and that they were going to kill me.31
Likewise, when Equiano arrives in Virginia and sees a portrait and a
timepiece for the ®rst time, he interprets these artifacts as the
keepsakes of ancestral spirits, the cultural repositories of history and
time:
The ®rst object that engaged my attention was a watch which hung on the
chimney, and was going. I was quite surprised at the noise it made, and was
afraid it would tell the gentleman any thing I might do amiss: and when I
immediately after observed a picture hanging in the room, which appeared
constantly to look at me, I was still more affrighted, having never seen such
things as these before. At one time I thought it was something relative to magic;
and not seeing it move I thought it might be some way the whites had to
keep their great men when they died, and offer them libations as we used to
do to our friendly spirits.32
This passage is important, not only because, as Gates observes, it
dramatises the difference between Equiano's earlier self and the self
that narrates his text, but because it witnesses the transference of
African concepts of `spirit possession' on to western ideologies and in
so doing, reveals the intricate interrelationship between spiritual
discourse and literary articulations of power. In addition, Equiano's
interpretations of the spiritual powers contained within the picture
and the watch strategically refer back to his account of the magical
powers of the Ibonic Ah-affoe-way-cah who, as with these western
artifacts, prescribe radically different concepts of vision (real and
prophetic) and time (`they calculated our time').33
motherlands and rites of passage

In Chapter 1 of his Interesting Narrative, Equiano's recollection of his
mother's libations to those spirits which had not transmigrated,
presents a revised paradigm of spiritual discourse on western terms
and an alternate paradigm of the sublime (an important Romantic
context) within an African context:
I was very fond of my mother, and almost constantly with her. When she
went to make these oblations at her mother's tomb, which was a kind of
small solitary thatched house, I sometimes attended her. There she made
her libations, and spent most of the night in cries and lamentations. I have
been often extremely terri®ed on these occasions. The loneliness of the
place, the darkness of the night, and the ceremony of libation, naturally
awful and gloomy, were heightened by my mother's lamentations; and
these, concurring with the cries of doleful birds, by which these places were
frequented, gave an inexpressible terror to the scene.34
The ìnexpressible terror' of the scene, the darkness and the àwful'
atmosphere which the young Equiano senses during the libation
ceremony describe a precious moment in which the presence of
some powerful non-material òther' dominates. In Longinus' treatise
On the Sublime (translated by the French critic Boileau in 1674), hypos
or height functions as a predominant metaphor for the experience of
sublimity: the reader is uplifted and his soul transported in exultation
(in close proximity to the spirit of the deity) as `though [he] had
created what [he] had merely heard'.
Wherefore not even the entire universe suf®ces for the thought and
contemplation within the reach of the human mind, but our imagination
often pass beyond the bounds of space, and if we survey our life on every
side and see how much more it everywhere abounds in what is striking, and
great, and beautiful, we shall discern the purpose of our birth.35
In his Philosophical Enquiry into the Origins of our Ideas of the Sublime and
Beautiful (1757), Edmund Burke reinscribed Longinus' focus on the
`proud ¯ight' of the soul as a moment of in®nity and magni®cence.36
Equiano's narrative correlates the sublime, the `loneliness . . . awful
and gloomy', with the Ibonic belief in the transmigration of souls
and thereby presents a culturally contextualised account of his
peoples' libation ceremonies, their cries and lamentations. Further-
more, Equiano's lucid testimony of his experience of transportation
across the middle passage ± `the stench of the hold', the sickness, the
`®lth of the necessary tubs', the shrieks of the women (presumably as
they were raped) and the groans of the dying ± redetermines the
terror of the sublime as a scene of `horror, almost inconceivable', in
which the power of the African, now slave, `self ' dissolves under the
authority of an òther' absolute subject (England).37
As with Cowper's and Newton's confessional narratives, Equiano's
account of his experience during the middle passage unmasks a
desire for death/suicide, a textual prerequisite to the mechanisms of
divine salvation: Ì began to hope [death] would soon put an end to
my miseries'.38 Equiano's (self-)juxtaposition with the freedom of the
ìnhabitants of the deep', Ì envied them the freedom they enjoyed, and as
often wished I could change my condition for theirs', anticipates the
post-storm blessing of the sea-creatures in Coleridge's `The Rime of
the Ancient Mariner' (1797) by almost a decade. This form of
cultural intertextuality permits a reading of Coleridge's poem as a
narrative of dislocation, dispossession and exile:
Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charmeÂd water burnt alway
A still and awful red.39
During his transatlantic voyage, Equiano witnesses the suicide of

two of his enslaved companions, who, `preferring death to such a life
of misery', throw themselves into the sea.40 Such a practice was
recorded by several slave-traders who, in order to deter the Africans'
attempt to return to their spiritual homelands by drowning, would
display the mutilated (beheaded) corpses of those who had attempted
to escape from the slave ships. Equiano's own form of ìnsurrection'
takes on a very different guise and inscribes a process of cultural
`translation' as an alternative to cultural erasure. As the passage on
the sublime òblations' suggests, for Equiano the signi®ers of his
prediasporic identity are inseparable from his `recollections' of the
maternal ®gure. This determines the condition of his now diasporic
identity as a state of division from both the female and the
indigenous culture, a state of hiatus which interrupts the cultural
continuum and further problematises the complex processes of (self-)
identi®cation. In Equiano's text, this interruption of self-determina-
tion/inscription (cultural and sexual) is ®gured metaphorically by
the man who lies between the author and his sister during their
transportation across the `middle passage': `The man, to whom I
supposed we belonged, lay with us, he in the middle, while she [my
sister] and I held one another by the hands across his breast all
night'.41 Once on board the slave ships, male and female slaves were
regularly separated from each other by traders and overseers in an
attempt to prevent the terrifying possibility of slave mutinies during
the long transatlantic crossings. This division on sexual lines was
often continued on the plantations where slaves were often forced to
sleep with their masters or with whomsoever their masters ordered.
As a consequence, the appropriation and negation of a slave's
sexuality functioned as a symbolic manifestation of Europe's usurpa-
tion over Africa, a process continued by the role reversal imposed on
African slaves which forced males to perform traditionally female
roles and vice versa.42
Likewise, the separation of the child, as in Equiano's case, from the
biological mother's body, posited a metaphor of irreversible division
from the slave's cultural `motherland ', a severance which represented a
dislocation in language and a signi®cant hiatus in the cultural
continuum.43 The severing of this umbilical cord inaugurated a
condition of `fracture' from a speci®c sociohistorical and cultural
past and hence determined the emergence of a `fragmented' identity
within the diaspora. In Equiano's text, this relationship with Western
culture ®gures a complex moment of social and psychological
reorderings: ®rstly, through the attempted subordination of African
matriarchy by patriarchal European society; and secondly, through
the redetermination of England as both the `mother country' and
liberator of slaves.
Equiano's narrative therefore reciprocates the conscience-stricken
(sexual) centre of several spiritual autobiographies (including South-
cott's Prophecies and Wordsworth's Prelude), yet his text exceeds the
boundaries of Methodism's confessional framework, as it narrates his
complicity in the sexual violation of female slaves during successive
voyages across the middle passage. It is a practice which he witnesses
and to which he submits, possibly as an active agent, but at the very
least, as a passive observer. As a `slave'-trader, his status as a `free'
ir/responsible agent is deeply complex ± he is both a subject of, and
subjected to, a complex matrix of desires and restraints:
I used frequently to have different cargoes of new negroes in my care for sale;
and it was almost a constant practice with our clerks, and other whites, to
commit violent depredations on the chastity of the female slaves; and these
[atrocities] I was, though with reluctance, obliged to submit to at all times, being
unable to help them [the female slaves] . . . I have even known them [his
shipmates] gratify their brutal passion with females not ten years old; and
these abominations some of them practised to such scandalous excess.44
Since the predominant processes informing the dynamics of servi-
tude pivoted upon the complex and subtle ideologies of ownership
and its inscription, Equiano's complicity in these sexual assaults
upon the females aboard the slave ships underlines an important
recognition of his own `lack' of power. His voyeuristic/physical rape
(the exertion of sexual power over female òthers') presents a
concerted attempt to counteract the dispossession which had
determined his own condition as a slave. In his authoritative
Commentaries on the Law of England, William Blackstone had de®ned
rape (raptus mulierum) as the carnal knowledge of a woman taken
forcibly and against her will.45 He also recorded that according to
English legislation, ìf the rape be charged to be committed on an
infant under twelve years of age, she may still be a competent
witness'.46 This legislation made clear the `crime' of which Equia-
no's fellow slave traders were, by law, undeniably guilty. However,
it also foregrounds the question of Equiano's àct', whether volun-
tary, voyeuristic or otherwise. Equiano's òbligation to civil subjec-
tion', whereby an inferior, according to Blackstone, is constrained
by his superiors to act `contrary to what his own reason and
inclination would suggest', highlights the complex legislative
subject status occupied by slaves at this time. When he complies
with his owners' declarations of power, Equiano's actions undergo
an intricate process of cultural assimilation and severance from
African cultural loyalties. In terms of its confessional framework,
his account of these sexual `plunderings' (to which he claims he
was `though with reluctance, obliged to submit to at all times')
satis®es the dynamics of testimony, vindication and absolution
contained within the narratives of Cowper, Newton and other
spiritual autobiographers.
As discussed above in relation to the early spiritual narratives, the
genre of autobiography revolves around a complex con®guration of
disclosure. In his Allegories of Reading (1979), Paul de Man de®ned the
`confession' as an endeavour to overcome guilt and shame in the
name of truth: `By stating things as they are, the economy of the
ethical balance is restored and redemption can start in the clari®ed
atmosphere of truth that does not hesitate to reveal the crime in all
its horror'.47 Likewise, in his study of sexual discourse, The History of
Sexuality, Michel Foucault de®ned the confession as òne of the west's
most highly valued techniques for producing truth', a process in
which sex and the ìnsinuations of the ¯esh' become a `privileged
theme'.48 However, as de Man notes with reference to Rousseau, it
was not enough for the confessor to tell all: (s)he had to excuse as well
as confess. This would suggest that no con¯ict exists between the
confession and the excuse, yet language itself cannot constitute a
`reparation in the realm of political justice':
How then are we to know that we are indeed dealing with a true confession,
since the recognition of guilt implies its exoneration in the name of the
same transcendental principle of truth that allowed for the certitude of guilt
in the ®rst place?49
When applied to Equiano's text, this prompts the reader to question
the confessor's narrative of àbsolute truth' and most signi®cantly,
the means by which he excuses his guilt. Equiano's text is strategi-
cally hinged upon a demand for a representation of the `principle of
truth' (a national, political confession) within the `realm of political
justice'. At the same time, his exposure of his own (sexual) collabora-
tion with the traders demonstrates a complex process of assimilation
with the host culture. Consequently, it presents a radical exposure of
the inherent contradictions and inconsistencies of the English poli-
tical system itself. Ostensibly, therefore, his `confessional' disclosure
of his collusion with the traders' sexual violations inaugurates a
narrative of personal (Christian) salvation, yet his text simultaneously
registers a departure from such ideologies, a challenge to the English
legislature and an adherence to the African cultural continuum.
As he relates in great detail at the outset of his text, Equiano was
destined (like his brothers) to receive the Ibo `marks' of the Èm-
brenche', the visual signi®ers of grandeur and distinction, facial
marks of scari®cation which, as I have already noted, would have
con®rmed his relationship with a great `chi' (ancestral spirit) and
symbolised his transition into physical maturity. However, if, as the
anthropologist, Catherine Acholonu suggests, the kidnapping of
Olaudah and his sister was no accident, but deliberately arranged by
his guardians, then the absence of these markings essentially informs
the cultural signi®cance of the passage cited above. Lacking the
ciphers of manhood and spiritual guidance, Equiano's narrative of
displacement and erasure is twofold. Accordingly, his sufferance of
the rape of his countrywomen manifests an attempt to inscribe
alternative ciphers of his sexual and cultural maturity.50
Earlier in the text, Equiano hints at the strong relationship
between himself and his mother and his constant accompaniment of
her: in her bed, in her hut and during her libations at her mother's
tomb.51 In her analysis of Ibo culture, the anthropologist I® Ama-
diume identi®es the temporal space of menstruation as an observed
period of gender segregation in African societies:
As women's blood was believed to be polluting both to ancestral spirits and
to men, a menstruating woman was forbidden sexual intercourse with her
husband and banned from the obi areas. Ino na ezi, or ino n'iba, or ino na nso,
ìn a state of taboo', were the expressions for being in menses. These
expressions were, perhaps, derived from the custom of isolating menstru-
ating women in a little hut at the back of the compound, where they were
supposed to remain until the menstrual ¯ow ceased, after which a chick
would be killed and the ritual of cleansing performed before they were
allowed back into society. The penalty for a woman who broke the rule of
trespass or sexual taboo while in her menses was severe.52
If Equiano's close ties with his mother during her menstrual cycle
were interpreted by his family as evidence of his èffeminate nature',
then the absence of these signi®ers of the Èmbrenche' takes on a
new dimension. Such a reading would imply that he who was
destined to become an Èmbrenche', the epitome of leadership and
judgement, was denied these signi®ers of masculinity, not because he
was transported into slavery but because of the premeditated
intervention of his kinsmen. Therefore in Equiano's confessional
narrative the paradigm of remorse (in western terms) coalesces with
the dishonour (in Ibo terms). His text ultimately identi®es not the
shame of his sexual transgression/voyeurism but seeks to exonerate
the shame accompanying his absent or de®cient manhood, together
with the shameful betrayal of his family who sold him into slavery.
In fact, Equiano's complicity in the attempt to legitimise òwner-
ship' by means of ìllegitimate' possession, is redeemed not by an act
of repentance, but by the foregrounding of a discourse which `de-
legitimises' the very discourse of justice itself. Equiano is beyond
repentance, and thus shame, not because he is beyond redemption
but because, or so his text suggests, he places himself alternately
both without and within the indeterminate, bi-polarised system of
English Common Law, a discourse premised upon the basic tenets of
property and dispossession, legality and illegality. Equiano's text
traces the moment at which language (another system of `laws')
struggles to accommodate the concept of insurrectionary `posses-
sion', or theft, by one who has already been possessed (or stolen):
that is, the attempted negation of the female slaves' (sexual) auton-
omy by one whose own self-determination has been appropriated by
others and who, according to the legislature, is powerless.
It is Equiano's complicity in working with slavers, together with
his duplicitous appropriation of the signi®ers of their culture and his
efforts to imbibe their `spirit', which redeems his transgressions and
not an act of self-reproach or contrition. His pretext for being
ùnable to help' the female slaves is expressed by means of the
ambiguous `linguistic' tension posed by the indeterminate and
interchangeable pronouns, ùs' and `them': ùs' ± slaves/men/
slavers, `them' ± others/females/atrocities. Indeed, Equiano's justi-
®cation of his submission to the pressures of cultural assimilation/
male bonding, is supported by claims alleging his conscious deferral
of `performance', a hesitancy which correlates with his displaced
status: `though with reluctance [I] was obliged'. Strategically these
compact lines outline the irresolution determining Equiano's
ambiguous proprietorship of choice and `non-choice', empowerment
and disempowerment. Likewise, in Montserrat, the author witnesses
a scene which registers the judicial inconsistencies incurred by
sexual relationships between white men and black women on the
one hand, and between white women and black men on the other:
And yet in Montserrat I have seen a negro man staked to the ground, and
cut most shockingly, and then his ears cut off, bit by bit, because he had been
connected with a white woman, who was a common prostitute: as if it were no crime in
the whites to rob an innocent African girl of her virtue; but most heinous in a black man
only to gratify a passion of nature, where the temptation was offered by one of a different
colour, though the most abandoned woman of her species.53
By exposing the ethical and legislative irregularities related to
variants of cross-cultural contact, Equiano's text articulates the
ambiguities involved within discourses of ownership and power, set
within an ostensibly sexualised framework, and in so doing, further
develops the important issue of cultural miscegenation raised in
Stedman's and Wheatley's texts.
aqua vitae
Ricocheting between poles of cultural difference and cultural simili-
tude, Equiano's Interesting Narrative discloses a process of cultural
miscegenation and its corresponding concern with the effects of
transition, translation and transculturation upon the displaced iden-
tity. During his Bible lessons with Daniel Queen on board the Aetna,
Equiano insists on expounding the parallelisms between the ideolo-
gies of the Scriptures and the traditional mores of his native country:
I was wonderfully surprised to see the laws and rules of my country written
almost exactly here [in the Bible]; a circumstance which I believe tended to
impress our manners and customs more deeply on my memory.54
Conversely, when he arrives in Guernsey, Equiano's auto-
biographical text registers a crucial moment of cultural and aesthetic
difference: Ì then began to be morti®ed at the difference in our
complexions'. It is this oscillation between discourses of perceived
difference and declarations of cultural similitude which determine
his narrative as a complex articulation of identity in the diaspora
and as a signi®cant paradigm of discrete insurrection:
I no longer looked upon them as spirits, but as men superior to us; and therefore I had the
stronger desire to resemble them; to imbibe their spirit, and imitate their manners; I
therefore embraced every occasion of improvement; and every new thing
that I observed I treasured up in my memory. I had long wished to be able to
read and write.55
This progression towards spiritual and personal acculturation ulti-
mately provides the apex of his conversion narrative. It records the
moment of intersection between spiritual discourse and hermeneu-
tics, the lucrative site of political revision and reinterpretation of
Biblical and legal text: Ìn this deep consternation the Lord was
pleased to break in upon my soul with his bright beams of heavenly
light: and in an instant, as it were, removing the veil, and letting
light into a dark place'.56 Equiano's narrow escapes during expedi-
tions to Cape Lagos in 1759 are accordingly narrated as evidence of
the `particular interposition of heaven'; instances which Equiano
identi®es as `plainly' revealing the `hand of God' and which continue
the metaphors of deluge and salvation established by spiritual
autobiographers such as Cowper and Newton:
Happily I escaped unhurt, though the shot and splinters ¯ew thick about
me during the whole ®ght . . . Every extraordinary escape, or signal
deliverance . . . I looked upon to be effected by the interposition of
Providence . . . I began to raise my fear from man to him [God] alone, and
to call daily on his holy name with fear and reverence: and I trust he heard
my supplications, and graciously condescended to answer me according to
his holy word, and to implant the seeds of piety in me, even one of the
meanest of his creatures.57
Equiano's emphasis upon the aquatic zone does not merely
provide the setting for his religious initiation. It also identi®es the
ocean as a trope of the diaspora itself, a `no man's land' or middle
passage in which ìdentity' becomes amorphous and in which
epistemological boundaries and cultural ideologies are subjected to
processes of instability, transition and miscegenation. As a con-
sequence of this, Equiano comments on the otherwise prohibited
interracial marriage between a white man and a free black woman
which takes place at sea, redetermining it as an aqueous zone which
denies/transcends the peripheries of legal and cultural prohibi-
tions.58 With the oceanic divide providing an appropriate backdrop
for his empowering moments of spiritual illumination, Equiano
prays ànxiously to God' for his liberty. Filled with these `thoughts of
freedom', his identity hangs `daily in suspense, particularly in the surfs', as
he prepares himself for the demands of cultural assimilation. 59
Equiano's baptism at St Margaret's Church, Westminster in
February 1759, together with the education provided by the indul-
gent `Miss Guerins', function as agents of dissolution, or rather,
syntheses of cultural boundaries.60 Accordingly, conversion to
radical dissenting Protestantism establishes a fusion of western and
African epistemologies. For this reason, the author's description of
the English as a group of `bad spirits' becomes a declaration of his
endeavour to ìmbibe their spirit'. The centre of his `conversion
narrative', his acknowledgement of past transgressions and his
`recollections of [his] past conduct', coincide exactly with his prayers
for spiritual and physical deliverance, his denunciation of the `new
slavery' practised by West Indian planters and his demands for
revenge:
I therefore, with contrition of heart, acknowledged my transgression to
God, and poured out my soul before him with unfeigned repentance, and
with earnest supplications I besought him not to abandon me in my
distress, nor cast me from his mercy for ever . . . I rose at last from the deck
with dejection and sorrow in my countenance, yet mixed with some faint
hope that the Lord would appear for my deliverance . . . I called upon God's
thunder, and his avenging power, to direct the stroke of death to me, rather
than permit me to become a slave, and be sold from lord to lord.61
In its focus upon the progeny of interracial sexual relationships,
Equiano's `creolised' or hybrid discourse interrupts and thereby
exposes the potential void or self-destructing aspect of the Carib-
bean's legal narrative. By locating the site occupied by the mulatto-
®gure, the `sons and daughters of the French planters', Equiano
identi®es that point at which the rigidity of de®nitions distinguishing
between slaves and non-slaves, subjects and objects, crumbles:
And what must be the virtue of those legislators, and the feelings of those
fathers, who estimate the lives of their sons, however begotten, at no more
than ®fteen pounds . . . But is not the slave trade entirely a war with the
heart of man? And surely that which is begun by breaking down the barriers of
virtue involves in its continuance destruction to every principle, and buries all sentiments
in ruin! . . . When you make men slaves you deprive them of half their
virtue, you . . . compel them to live with you in a state of war . . . Are you
not hourly in dread of an insurrection? 62
Equiano's text strategically identi®es the paradoxical nature of the
colonial legislature, most especially the contradictory aspect of the
329th Act of the Assembly of Barbados. This statute frowned upon
the wilful killing of a slave òut of wantonness, or only out of bloody-
mindedness, or cruel intention' yet determined that no person
whatsoever, even if it were the master's own child would be liable
should a slave or negro ùnfortunately' suffer ìn life or member' as a
result of his master's punishment.63 For Equiano, this constituted a
non-text which provided slave owners with absolute impunity from
the law.
salvation?
When Equiano arrives in Philadelphia in 1766, he chances to pass a
meeting house full of Quakers where he is told that the presiding
preacher is George White®eld, the spiritual leader of the Great
Awakening. His account of Revd White®eld èxhorting the people
with the greatest fervour' is, however, curiously dismissive: he
describes the Reverend as `sweating as much' as he did himself
whilst a slave on Montserrat beach and declares that he is no longer
at a loss to àccount for the thin congregations' to which those
divines preached.64 Concurrent with this ironisation of dissenting
Protestantism, Equiano stresses the fact that it was not his status as a
`Christian' which had earned him the appellation `Freeman', but his
dabbling in petty trade which had paid for his freedom. Neverthe-
less, the framework of the narrative insists that despite his newly
obtained economic freedom, his spiritual (and indeed social) devel-
opment remains incomplete. On 4 February 1767, therefore, the
structural requirement of his spiritual autobiography is ful®lled as
the author gives an account of his `vision'. In this dream, which
Equiano interprets as evidence of the spirit's work and as a
con®rmation of his own divine election, he `sees' himself save his
shipmates from shipwreck àmidst the surfs and rocks'. In accord-
ance with the dream, the remaining text describes how he survived
an actual storm and, with the aid of three blacks and a Dutch
Creole, was able to transfer the remaining (white) crew back to the
safety of an isolated island where they remained until miraculously
`delivered'. In order to reinforce this narrative of redemption, the
second volume of Equiano's Interesting Narrative included a plate
entitled Nancy Foundering on the Bahama Banks 1767 and cited a passage
from the Book of Job which prioritised the importance of the
unconscious will, the dream or vision state, and the dreamer's divine
`seal':
Thus God speaketh once, yea, twice, yet Man perceiveth it not. In a
Dream, in a Vision of the Night, when deep sleep falleth upon Men, in
slumberings upon the Bed: Then he openeth the Ears of Men, & sealeth
their instruction. Job. Ch.33 Ver. 14, 15, 16, 29 & 30.65
Equiano's subsequent travels take him to England, Turkey, Por-

tugal, Jamaica and even towards the North Pole with a Captain
Phipps. During his travels, however, he claims that he remained
completely oblivious to the forces occasioning his salvation, despite
the symbolic `®res' in his cabin which (in true conversion narrative-
tyle) pre-empt his pending `deliverance' from the ®res of hell.
Therefore, whilst Chapter 7 of the Interesting Narrative records the
climactic point of Equiano's quest for physical freedom ± Ì, who had
been a slave in the morning, trembling at the will of another, was
become my own master, and completely free' ± Chapter 10 (Volume
2) ultimately serves as the structural zenith of the conversion
narrative, where the author reveals his experience of `the grace of
God' and articulates his resolution to achieve the `salvation' of his
soul:
The sense of God's mercies was so great on my mind when I awoke, that
my strength entirely failed me for many minutes, and I was exceedingly
weak. This was the ®rst spiritual mercy I ever was sensible of.66
And so Equiano, `determined . . . to be a ®rst-rate Christian', travels

from church to church, seeking one appropriate to his calling. From
the neighbouring churches of St. James, London, however, the
author returns `dissatis®ed'; likewise, silent Quaker meetings leave
him às much in the dark as ever' and as he claims, rather
dramatically, he is `not in the least edi®ed' by the Roman Catholic
services which he attends.67 At length, he determines `to read the
Four Evangelists' and vows to join `whatever sect or party . . .
adhering thereto'. At this point, Equiano's text proceeds to give an
account of his disturbingly powerful `conviction of sin' experiences
and the àwful visions of the night' which induce him to seek
forgiveness for his past `follies and vile iniquities'.68
Following a series of meetings between himself, Granville Sharp
(the abolitionist politician) and a dissenting minister, Equiano is
eventually taken to an unnamed chapel where he witnesses several
`devotees' speaking of their experiences òf the providence of God,
and his unspeakable mercies', and of their calling and election to
God.69 Overcome by the prayer and singing of this `love-feast',
Equiano undergoes a `spiritual and temporal' resurrection. On 6
October 1774, whilst reading a description of the descent of the Holy
Spirit upon those ùneducated, common men', the apostles, Peter
and John, contained in Act 4:12, Equiano's soul is blessed with the
Spirit's `bright beams of heavenly light':
I saw clearly with the eye of faith . . . the Scriptures became an unsealed
book . . . It was given me at that time to know what it was to be born again
. . . I was sensible of the invisible hand of God, which guided and protected
me when in truth I knew it not . . . Now the Ethiopian was willing to be
saved by Jesus Christ . . . Sure I was that the Spirit which indited the word
opened my heart to receive the truth of it as it is in Jesus . . . the salvation
of my soul . . . I rejoiced in spirit.70
This spiritual visitation not only endorses Equiano's narrative as an
àuthentic' tale of divine deliverance, but identi®es him as a literal
embodiment of the divine seal, blessed with the power of hermeneu-
tics (`the Scriptures became an unsealed book'), a power previously
attributed to the Ibonic Ah-affoe-way-cah. This moment of divine
vision heralds the translation of the Àfrican' into Christian discourse
and thus inscribes the inauguration of a creolised discourse, the
discourse of the spirit as a `gift of many tongues'.
the spirit and the black church tradition

To a signi®cant extent, Equiano's Interesting Narrative adheres to the
conversion narrative framework popularised by radical dissenting
Protestantism. Yet in an important departure from this, Equiano's
text presents a narrative of cultural exchange in terms of its subtle
synthesis of African belief systems with the dissenting traditions of
the western world. As a paradigm of cultural miscegenation, there-
fore, Equiano's `diasporic' text demarcates a narrative of cultural
hybridity ± a text propounding the synthesis of principal tenets of
dissenting Protestantism with West African epistemology. Hence his
text forms a continuum with belief systems which were transported
from Africa across the middle passage to the slave plantations of the
West Indies and Americas, systems which prioritised a belief in the
interactions of lesser gods and ancestral spirits, spirit-possession,
kinetic ecstasy and rhythmic oralcy.
Among the Yoruba people, the supreme deity is known as
`Chukwu', from `Chi-Uku', the `Great Spirit', whilst the lesser spirits
are known as àbosom' by the Ashanti (Ghana); `vodun' (hence the
term `voodoo') by the Ewe speaking Fon (Ghana, Togo and Benin) of
Dahomey; àlose' by the Ibo (Nigeria) and òrisha' by the Yoruba
(coastal Nigeria).71 These ancestral spirits and lesser gods constitute
powerful forces which, it is believed, control the mechanisms of the
world and intervene in the affairs of men. During initiation cere-
monies, novice devotees of these cults are instructed in the rites of
the gods and exposed to the secret languages of the spiritual gods.
Likewise, established devotees may become the mediums and
mouthpieces to ancestral spirits as they experience a phenomenon
known as `spirit possession'. During this time, the identities of the
devotees are annihilated or rather `suspended' as they experience
trance-like states of ecstasy or emotional excess.
Composed of some half a million slaves, the French colony of St
Domingue constituted the largest and most productive slave colony
of the Caribbean during the late eighteenth century. Reciprocated
by the process expounded within Equiano's text, the colony provided
an appropriate model of the cultural hybridity which emerged as a
consequence of the transportation of West African slaves to the
Catholic colony, and the resultant fusion of Western Christianity and
West African beliefs. The subsequent emergence of the folk religion
voodoo hence prescribed a process of religious miscegenation which
maintained an emphasis upon the `spirit world' and oralcy. Accord-
ingly, the `revelations' inspired by spiritual-ancestors during dreams
or voodoo possession rituals functioned to maintain cultural mem-
ories of upheaval, slavery and transportation within the African
diaspora.72
In his systematic analysis of the oral tradition within the African
diaspora, Michel Laguerre identi®ed the spirit-inspired songs of
voodoo rituals as indicative repositories of preserved fragments of
African culture. The words contained within these songs recorded
the transportation of African languages across the middle passage
and divulged the process by which the slaves created new languages
amidst forces of linguistic and cultural dispossession. Furthermore,
these songs constituted part of a sacred oral tradition inspired by
African ancestral spirits and momentarily recollected by voodoo
devotees.73 As such, they demonstrate the complex process of
metamorphosis and syncretism of African belief systems within the
diaspora. As an example of this, the voodoo orientation song `Sin
Moiz de zo papa rele loa io pou moin /Sin Moiz de zo papa rele
sanble loa io pou moin' (`St Moses, you who live under the sea/
Papa, call upon the spirits for us') redetermined Moses, the Hebrew
prophet who led the Israelites out of Egypt, as the messenger called
upon by the congregation to gather the spirits into the temple, in
order that the ceremony may begin.74 Likewise, Equiano's text
constitutes an embryonic prototype of the cultural hybridity cap-
tured by these analogous songs and reciprocated in the development
of black church traditions in the diaspora, such as the Revival and
Pocomania in Jamaica, the Spiritual Baptists and Shouters in
Trinidad and the Black Methodists in the American colonies. 75
In their emphasis on the emotionally ecstatic initiation rites of the
(Holy) `Spirit', these sects continued the ¯uid, protean and `¯exible
oral stylisations of language' which had characterised radical dis-
senting Protestantism. 76 Furthermore, in their application of anti-
phonality (call-and-response), polyrhythms, syncopation and
repetition, the slaves' spirituals, sermons and songs continued a
prioritisation of the spoken word over the written word, the protean
power of oral over written culture. Therefore, whereas Philip
Quaque's efforts to advance `Christianity' in its purely western form
had ultimately failed, Equiano's text testi®es to the success of the
hybrid syncretic paradigm. In its notable re¯ection of the fusion
between African and Western spiritual discourse and their corre-
sponding dynamics of ecstatic bodily behaviour (the passionate
physicality of `spirituality'), Equiano's text presents an endeavour to
heal the scars of `natal alienation', the traumatic experience of
unprecedented sociohistorical upheaval.77 It functions unambigu-
ously as both an autobiographical and cultural narrative in which
the `Word of the Spirit' ®gures as the intermediary mode of
discourse between the Word of God, the Christian narrative, and the
epistemological cultures of Africa. Moreover, it is precisely this
discourse of the `spirit' which Equiano advances in opposition to the
Word of the Law, that constitutional narrative which de®ned slaves
as property (possessions) rather than as subjects (possessors).
Equiano's own spiritual `conversion' is more or less completed by
his account of his attempts (as in Marrant's text) to `convert' the
Musquito Indians on the Dupeupy shore. But this episode, although
it occurs near to the end of the Interesting Narrative, is not unproble-
matic; it betrays a necessity to endorse the cultural alterity of
another racial type, i.e. Indian rather than African. Therefore, it
appears to authenticate a degree of religious expansionism not
unlike that displayed by early colonisers, who attributed the super-
iority of the written word as a power over and beyond the belief
systems of the indigenous inhabitants:
Recollecting a passage I had read in the life of Columbus, when he was
amongst the Indians in Mexico or Peru, where on some occasion, he
frightened them, by telling them of certain events in the heavens, I had
recourse to the same expedient; and it succeeded beyond my most sanguine
expectations. When I had formed determination, I went in the midst of
them; and, taking hold of the Governor, I pointed up to the heavens . . . I
told them God lived there, and that he was angry with them . . . and if they
did not leave off [quarrelling] and go away quietly, I would take the book
(pointing to the Bible), read, and tell God to make them dead. This operated on them like
magic.78
This incident takes place during Equiano's accompaniment of the
`celebrated Dr Irving' on his extensive travels. At this time, Equiano
participates in the selection and purchase of slaves from his own
tribe ± Ì chose them all of my own countrymen' ± in order to
establish and cultivate a plantation.79 The above quotation demon-
strates not an innocent desire to convert the Musquito Indians to
Christianity but a complex struggle between `colonised' cultural
ideologies. Equiano's attempts to convert these Indian princes to the
doctrines of Christianity, are however, undermined by his account of
this episode: the `good seeds' which he sows are rejected at the same
rate as he endeavours to `transplant' them. As a consequence, this
chapter describing the `non-conversion' of the Indians and his
purchase of slaves remains tantalisingly incomplete and prescribes
an alternate framework by which Equiano's own conversion narra-
tive may be read.
Equiano's description of the digni®ed customs and social mores of
the Musquito Indians establishes a correlation between this ancient
civilisation and his own Ibo culture. In so doing, Equiano's text
partakes in a radical alienation of (or even rejection of ) Christian
ideology. Hence at the very moment at which cultural assimilation
achieved by conversion seems most paramount, the very principles
of that assimilation are subtly undermined: Ì am sorry to say that
there was not one white person in our dwelling . . . that was better
or more pious than those unenlightened Indians'.80 Accordingly,
Equiano's Interesting Narrative threatens to disrupt the mechanisms of
cultural and religious assimilation by exposing their interdependence
upon colonial and racist ideology. In other words, his text skilfully
discloses the relationship between narratives of cultural/colonial
power and language/discourse itself. Consequently, the Bishop of
London's refusal to appoint Equiano as a missionary to Africa is
attributed to `some certain scruple of delicacy', a linguistic silence or
void which represents the moment at which the inherent correlation
between discourse and power appears to defy words and inhabit a
linguistic blindspot.
In fact, by the close of the Interesting Narrative, the conversion motif
has, to all intents and purposes, been abandoned. In its stead, the
reader is presented with a declaration of political activism strategi-
cally founded upon the principles of religious dissent. Equiano's text
concludes with an exposeÂ of the abuses committed by the Govern-
ment in its efforts to cleanse London of its black poor by sending
them to Sierra Leone:
[The] government were not the only objects of speculation; these poor
people suffered in®nitely more; their accommodations were most wretched;
many of them wanted beds, and many more cloathing and other
necessaries . . . Worn out by treatment, perhaps not the most mild, and
wasted by sickness, brought on by want of medicine, cloaths, bedding &c.
they reached Sierra Leone just at the commencement of the rains. At that
season of the year it is impossible to cultivate the lands; their provisions
therefore were exhausted before they could derive any bene®t from
agriculture; and it is not surprising that many, especially the lascars . . .
should be so wasted by their con®nement as not long to survive it.81
Ultimately therefore, in its revision of the `spiritual' auto-
biographical framework, Equiano's voice coalesces with that of
radical dissent through its unorthodox prioritisation of heteroge-
neous concepts of `truth' and election: `Sure I was that the Spirit
which indited the word opened my heart to receive the truth of it as
it is in Jesus ± that the same Spirit enabled me . . . to believe to [sic]
the salvation of my soul'.82 This paradigm of spiritual illumination
inscribes the intrinsic power of interpretation as both a critique and
challenge to the `law' of the written and the unspoken word.
Accordingly, the `revelation' which Equiano receives is not merely a
matter of spiritual illumination; it functions as a strategic revelation
of the hitherto invisible discourses of power and as an endorsement
of his own blessed self-identi®cation as one who, though `perse-
cuted', now speaks in the political/legislative arena, self-empowered,
`with the spirit'.
The engraving of Equiano reading the passage from Isaiah
(`Behold, God is my salvation: I will trust, and not be afraid: for the
Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he is also my salvation'
(12:2.4)) con®rms the author's unhesitating critique of the dominant
order. This struggle is premised upon a signi®cant investment in the
power of both the oral and written `spiritual' word. As suggested by
his petition (on behalf of his brethren) to the Queen, dated 21 March
1788, Equiano initiates an overt penetration of the parliamentary
sphere in his request for political salvation: Ì supplicate your
Majesty's compassion for millions of my African countrymen, who
groan under the lash of tyranny in the West Indies'.83 The spiritual
pilgrimage delineated by Equiano's Interesting Narrative concludes,
therefore, with a plea to those `who are possessed of his spirit', to
disperse that àuspicious era of expansive freedom' upon black
identities in the diaspora:
May the time come . . . when the sable people shall gratefully commem-
orate the auspicious era of extensive freedom . . . May the blessings of the
Lord be upon the heads of all those who commiserated the cases of the
oppressed negroes . . . If a system of commerce was established in Africa,
the demand for manufactures would most rapidly augment, as the native
inhabitants will insensibly adopt the British fashions, manners, customs,
&c. In proportion to the civilisation, so will be the consumption of British manufactures
. . . A commercial intercourse with Africa opens an inexhaustible source of wealth to the
manufacturing interests of Great Britain, and to all which the slave trade is an
objection.84
This concluding religious bribe strategically refuses to close with a
paradigm of marriage or ordination, as presented in the slave
narratives discussed above. Rather, it proposes a socioeconomic
solution which situates the `British senators' as future advocates of
commercial enterprise based in Africa and, by inference, as the
spiritually enlightened dismantlers of the slave trade, the `dispensers
of light, liberty, and science'.
A pivotal text in the development of the slave narratives, Equia-
no's Interesting Narrative brings to the fore the bicultural tactics
contained within the slave narratives discussed above. This progres-
sion ensures that Equiano's text represents an important translation
of cultural identity into the framework established by radical
dissenting Protestants, prophets and Romantics alike and conse-
quently remains a vital expression of identity in the black diaspora.
As a development of the process of `cultural miscegenation' sug-
gested by Wheatley's work, Equiano's text ®rmly establishes a crucial
synthesis of principal tenets of radical dissent with signi®cant
elements of African epistemology. His Interesting Narrative hence
exposes the mercurial dynamics of possession/dispossession and
offers a subtle critique of the relationship between power and the
mechanisms of discourse itself. Thus Equiano's text describes the
diasporic identity's strategic penetration of the political legislature,
an interaction which is radically intensi®ed within the works by the
`mulatto offspring', Robert Wedderburn.
chapter nine
Robert Wedderburn and mulatto discourse
But there comes a time, as it came in my life, when a man is

denied the right to live a normal life, when he can only live the
life of an outlaw because the government has so decreed to use
the law to impose a state of outlawry on him.1
Now I have scarcely a drop of black blood left in me, my blood
having so faded with the blood of a Minister, that I am
[becoming] as white as a Mulatto.2
Whereas Equiano's narrative of spiritual redemption presents a
relatively circumspect demand for political reformation, the accent-
uation of subversive and millenarian elements of radical dissenting
Protestantism provide an overtly militant and confrontational plat-
form for the black British author and rebel, Robert Wedderburn.3
Born in Jamaica around 1761, Wedderburn was the `mulatto'
offspring of the wealthy Scottish sugar plantation owner, James
Wedderburn and his female slave, Rosanna. Separated from his
rebellious mother as an infant and never acknowledged by his white
father, the near-illiterate Robert was adopted and reared by his
African-born maternal grandmother, the Kingston obeah and smug-
gler, `Talkee Amy', under whose charge his own prophetic and
oratory powers were developed. As slave plantation societies of the
West Indies endeavoured to maintain remnants of distinctly African
modes of belief, Talkee's position as plantation obeah con®rmed her
role as transmitter of preslavery epistemologies. She was revered by
slaves and indeed, by some of their owners, as a chief communicant
with ancestral `spirits'.4
At the age of eleven, Wedderburn witnessed the public ¯ogging of
Talkee allegedly for `witchcraft' by a young boy she had reared
herself:
My grandmother's new master being a believer in the doctrine of
Witchcraft, conceived that my grandmother had bewitched the vessel
255
[captured by Spaniards], out of revenge for her not being liberated also. To
punish her, therefore, he tied up the poor old woman of seventy years, and
¯ogged her to the degree, that she would have died, but for the interference
of a neighbour.5
Six years later, in 1778, having served as a ®ghting seaman in the
Royal Navy aboard HMS Polyphemus and later as a privateer,
Wedderburn arrived in England, aged seventeen.6 There, he drifted
around St Giles as one of the `London Blackbirds', a community of
runaway slaves and immigrants who earned their living as musicians,
entertainers, beggars and thieves, until he obtained work as a tailor.
According to his semi-autobiographical text, The Horrors of Slavery:
Exempli®ed in the Life and History of the Revd Robert Wedderburn (1824), in
1786 Wedderburn underwent what he claims was a profoundly
spiritual experience upon hearing the words of a passionate Wes-
leyan preacher. Having read Thomas Paine's Rights of Man (1791),
Wedderburn went on to become a licensed Unitarian preacher. The
®rst English Unitarian congregation had been founded seventeen
years earlier by Theophilus Lindsey (1723±1808) who, having re-
jected the Anglican Church's creed restrictions, had established the
Essex Street Chapel in London in 1774. These Unitarians practised a
system of Christian belief which advocated the unipersonality of
God and rejected both the divinity of Christ and the doctrine of the
Trinity. Famous Unitarians included Joseph Priestley (1773±1804),
the English chemist, political theorist and outstanding Unitarian
leader who advocated scriptural rationalism, materialist deter-
minism and humanitarian Christology; Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
the poet; and Richard Price (1723±1791), who in 1789 delivered his
notorious heretical speech, A Discourse on the Love of Our Country at the
annual Revolution Society Meeting.
Wedderburn's ®rst publication, a theological tract entitled, Truth,
Self-Supported; Or, A Refutation of Certain Doctrinal Errors, Generally
Adopted in the Christian Church (1790) displayed a complex synthesis of
Methodism's principles of redemption and sancti®cation with ele-
ments of West Indian and African culture. His choice of epigraph
con®rmed his legacy as both a transmitter of (sociopolitical) truths
and a creolised voice of radical transformation in the diaspora:
God hath chosen the foolish things of the world, to confound the wise; and
God hath chosen the weak things of the world, to confound the things that
are mighty; and base things of the world, and things which are despised
hath God chosen, &c. 1 Corinthians 1:27±87
Robert Wedderburn and mulatto discourse 257
Written in the third person rather than the ®rst person characteristic
of conversion narratives, Wedderburn's text carefully established a
structural framework of spiritual salvation, but with a particular
accentuation upon the author's own deliverance from the power of
the law (the written word of legislation), his empowerment by the
spirit and the liberty of prophetic oralcy:
Con®dent that God had sealed him unto the day of redemption, not only
sealed, but removed him by his power from a legal state of mind, into a state
of Gospel liberty, that is to say, a deliverance from the power of authority of
the law, considering himself not to be under the power of the law.8
Given the ambiguous position of slaves in England during the late
eighteenth century under English (colonial and local) law, Wedder-
burn's claims for self-exclusion from the àuthority of the law' under
the aegis of spiritual `grace' should not be underestimated. William
Blackstone's ambitious codi®cation of England's legal constitution, a
source of national pride, had been directly encouraged by Lord
Mans®eld, the Chief Justice. On its publication in 1765, Blackstone's
Commentaries on the Laws of England was immediately recognised as a
lucid and authoritative account of English legislation and govern-
ment. Of the social rights enjoyed by the `free-born Englishman',
Blackstone had unhesitatingly declared:
And this spirit of liberty is so implanted in our constitution, and rooted
even in our very soil, that a slave or a negro, the moment he lands in
England falls under the protection of the laws and becomes eo instanto a
freeman.9
Two years later, having been reminded of the Lord Chancellor's
reassurance (formerly the General Attorney, Sir Philip Yorke) to
West Indian planters that `neither baptism nor legislation could destroy
servitude absolutely', Blackstone's unequivocal declaration of
English liberty had become one of uncertainty and ambiguity by the
time the 1767 edition was printed: À slave or negro, the moment he
lands in England, falls under the protection of the laws, and so far
becomes a freeman; though the master's right to his service may
probably still continue'. 10 In spite of this, Blackstone persisted in his
attempt to overturn pro-slavery ideologies on the basis that they
destroyed the `very principles upon which all sales are founded'. Yet
his systematic and philosophical analysis of the principles of trans-
action failed to resolve the dichotomy existing between his own
textual consolidation of English legislation and the inconsistencies of
a social order in which property, acquired neither by purchase,
reciprocity nor original title, continued to be recognised. 11
Granville Sharp's ®rst pamphlet, A Representation of the Injustice and
Dangerous Tendency of Tolerating Slavery; or Of Admitting the Least Claim of
Private Property in the Persons of Men, in England (London, 1769) argued
that slavery, since it depended upon a de®nition of a person as a
possession, was incompatible with English liberty. But it was Gran-
ville's involvement in the judicial test case of James Somerset
(1771±1772) under the adjudication of the Chief Justice, Lord Mans-
®eld, which seemed to con®rm once and for all England's legal
position regarding slave status at a time when several thousand
slaves resided in the metropolis. Somerset had refused to return with
his owners and during the trial, he received considerable support
from a coalition of fellow blacks and radical artisans, together with
free legal aid from barristers. On the other hand, his master received
support from self-interested West Indian planters. Initially Lord
Mans®eld, reluctant to deprive slave owners in Britain of their rights
as masters, attempted to postpone this test case several times.
However, his ®nal decision of 1772 prohibited the involuntary
deportations of slaves by their masters from England:
The state of slavery is of such a nature, that it is incapable of being introduced on
any reasons, moral or political; but only [by] positive law, which preserves its force
long after the reasons, occasion, and time itself from whence it was created,
is erased from memory: It is so odious, that nothing can be suffered to
support it, but positive law. Whatever inconveniences, therefore, may
follow from a decision, I cannot say this case is allowed or approved by the
law of England; and therefore the black must be discharged.12
Although Mans®eld ruled against the deportation of slaves back to
the colonies, it did not follow that, on arrival in England, slaves by
virtue of English law were deemed autonomous emancipated indi-
viduals. It was, however, interpreted as such, and indeed in 1778 the
Scottish legislature ruled that no slaveholding rights whatsoever
could be upheld within Scotland's borders.
By the time Wedderburn had composed his Truth, Self-Supported in
1790, the `repatriation' Committee for the Relief of the Black Poor
(1786) had been in operation for almost four years and Sharp's
Regulation for the New Settlement in Sierra Leone (1786) had been in
circulation for the same amount of time. By 1791, one year after the
publication of Wedderburn's tract, slaves had rebelled in the
dramatic uprising in St Domingue, the Abolition Bill had been
defeated in Parliament and, following the declaration of war
between England and France in April 1792, emancipatory demands
for slaves were postponed. Although Wedderburn had had no
direct experience of slavery, his Truth, Self-Supported traced a move-
ment of linguistic and social rebellion by one who considered
himself situated on the periphery of a society founded upon
principles of binary opposition. For Iain McCalman, Wedderburn's
narrative poses a `crude but sincere attempt to steer an independent
course between [the] various doctrinal snags and shoals' of Armi-
nianism, Calvinism and Unitarianism.13 Yet although Wedderburn's
narrative does outline an advancement of radical individualism and
nonconformist principles, the route which it follows depends not
merely upon a refutation of various theological doctrines, but upon
an articulation of cultural ideologies preserved by slave societies in
the diaspora.
By situating the journey of his `desire to become a Christian'
alongside his seven year period of transgression àmongst a set of
abandoned reprobates', and his subsequent efforts to abandon `the
road to everlasting ruin', Wedderburn's narrative, in line with that of
Equiano, extends the Methodist paradigm of individualism to its
furthermost cultural and anarchic extreme. In so doing, Wedder-
burn's text develops a sustained refutation of established ideological
dictates, including that of the legislature by the individual under
`spiritual' inspiration.14 His interpretation of words by the Wesleyan
preacher whom he overhears on passing the Seven Dials in Covent
Garden, therefore, functions as a paradigm for the liberty of grace
(indemnity) prescribed by the suffusion and ìncarnation' of the Holy
Spirit:
[The] Mediator through whom and by whom, the Father performs all his
Will, by his own In¯uence or Essence which is called the Spirit . . . [This]
gift of the Spirit is called righteousness . . . so doth the Spirit purify and abundantly
®ll the soul of the penitent sinner.15
Truth, Self-Supported consolidates and imparts an effective paradigm

of its author as a prototype of diasporic identity located upon the
peripheries of discourse itself, a `state of Gospel Liberty' situated
beyond the authority of the established Church and the law. His use
of the `discourse of the spirit' posits a radical rejection of the
established tenets of the church and society and promotes instead an
af®rmation of the discourse of the `self ':
If you enquire of a minister of the church of Rome, he is not allowed to
think or speak, but as the Pope dictates, and if you should go to the Pope
himself, he must of necessity tell you, that, the doctrine of the Trinity is a
truth, because it was ®rst broached by the Church of Rome, which pretends
to be an infallible Church, and therefore cannot err; so that according to
their sentiments, all that do not believe in their tenets must be damned;
therefore you see the necessity of calling upon God for yourselves . . . Instead of the
performances required from us under the Law . . . believing in Jesus Christ,
as the Messiah sent of God, and receiving the grace sent by HIM, is the only
work that God requires of every man.16
As a `mulatto' son with extremely tenuous legal and social rights,
the author's af®nity with dissenting Protestantism corresponded to
his fervent dedication to a series of social and political demands:
indeed, conversion to such unorthodoxy depended upon a verbal
testimony of desired amelioration ± `for there is salvation in no
other'.17 Wedderburn's `conversion' encapsulates a signi®cant
moment in the development of his religious and political heterodoxy.
His appropriation of the discourse of the spirit not only provides him
with spiritual indemnity but identi®es him with the `son' of Jehovah,
whose `possession' of the spirit represents a manifestation of power:
The Holy Spirit spoken of in Scripture, is not a Being possessing personality
as a Jehovah, but an In¯uence of Jehovah, which is possessed by the Son
without measure. By the purpose and good-will of the Father, the Spirit
quali®es and possesses Jesus Christ with the ability of God.18
Wedderburn's proclaimed adherence to radical dissenting Protestan-
tism's faith in the power of the `spirit' is also endorsed by his citation
of a selection of hymns towards the end of his text, including one by
Isaac Watts and another by John Wesley.19 It is possible that the
tonal simplicity of the hymns evoked an impression of the sound of
`negro' spirituals and worksongs reverberating in the plantations.
But almost certainly, Methodism's continuum of the African belief in
the spirit-world, combined with its obvious antislavery agenda,
strategically in¯uenced Wedderburn's claims for `sancti®cation' and
spiritual indemnity and informed his emphasis upon his own powers
of exegesis and prophecy, over and beyond those of both the
established church and the `laws' of society. Wedderburn's attesta-
tions of `divine inspiration' and the protection given him by the
divine seal thus participate in a paradigm of `creolised' subversive
demands, professing deliverance from the law and `spiritual immun-
ity' from the perils of sedition and political reformation.
àcknowledge no king . . . acknowledge no priest' 2 0

By 1813, Wedderburn had become an ardent follower of Thomas
Spence, the leader of an informal political underground, whose
doctrines had prophesied an earthly millennium based upon a
radical redistribution of land.21 In 1817, Wedderburn published the
®rst edition of his prophetic The Axe Laid to the Root, or A Fatal Blow to
Oppressors; Being An Address to the Planters and Negroes of the Island of
Jamaica (1817), a text which demanded ìn the name of God, in the
name of natural justice and in the name of humanity that all slaves
be set free'.22 Indeed, The Axe Laid to the Root advanced claims for
land reformation on the plantocratic islands of the West Indies
according to Spence's directive and denounced concepts of English
liberty as myths expounded by priests, kings and lords. Wedderburn's
text initially propounds a Spencean vision of peaceful sociopolitical
transformation by the dissemination of Spencean literature amongst
free mulattos ±
Oh, ye oppressed, use no violence to your oppressors, convince the world
you are rational beings, follow not the example of St Domingo, let not your
jubilee, which will take place, be stained with the blood of your oppressors,
leave revengeful practices for European kings and ministers.23
This contrasts however, with the author's demands for violent slave
insurrections, following the model prescribed by the (in)famous St
Domingue uprising:
Jamaica will be in the hands of the blacks within twenty years. Prepare for ¯ight, ye
planters, for the fate of St Domingo awaits you . . . They [the Maroons] will
be victorious in their ¯ight, slaying all before them . . . Their method of ®ghting
is to be found in the scriptures, which they are now learning to read. They will slay
man, woman, and child, and not spare the virgin, whose interest is
connected with slavery, whether black, white, or tawny . . . My heart glows
with revenge, and cannot forgive.24
Wedderburn's call for the emancipation of slaves under the guise

of divine guidance (`Wedderburn demands in the name of God . . .
that all slaves be set free') and his vehement denunciation of the
established church as a tyrannical oppressor, are haunted by his
memory of the public ¯ogging of his aged grandmother. For this
reason, he portrays himself as a Christ-like but militantly radical
saviour who must reject and disobey his earthly father (the Scottish
James Wedderburn), in order to inherit the kingdom destined to be
his: `Repent ye christians . . . Oh! my father, what do you deserve at
my hands? Your crimes will be visited upon your legitimate offspring
. . . A black king is capable of wickedness, as well as a white one!'25 In
subsequent volumes of his Axe Laid to the Root, Wedderburn continued
his antinomian address to the slaves of Jamaica, supplementing it
with drastic calls for a violent transformation of the sociopolitical
sphere and advocating the need for the preservation of cultural
identity within the diaspora:
Dear Countrymen, It is necessary for you to know how you may govern
yourselves without a king, without lords, dukes, earls, or the like; these are
classes of distinction which tend only to af¯ict society. I would have you
know, with all the proud boasting of Europeans they are yet ignorant of
what political liberty is . . . Have no white delegate in your assembly . . . Let every
individual learn the art of war, yea, even the females, for they are capable of displaying
courage . . . Teach your children these lines [from the Desponding Negro], let them be
sung on the Sabbath day, in remembrance of your former sufferings, which will show you
what you may expect from the hands of European Christians, by what they have practised
before.26
In the fourth edition of The Axe Laid to the Root (1817), Wedderburn
incorporated a letter to a Miss Campbell, the heiress to a sugar
plantation whom he claimed had been censured by the assembly of
Jamaica for freeing her slaves and distributing her land along
Spencean lines. By inferring that this `Miss Campbell' was a
descendant of an earlier miscegenetic relationship and more dar-
ingly, that she and the author shared the same mother, Wedderburn's
text endorsed the paradigm of the mulatto as a radical agent of
socioeconomic transformation premised upon apocalyptic stature:
Dear Miss Campbell . . . I come not to make peace; my fury shall be felt by
princes, bidding de®ance to pride and prejudice. Truth is my arrow stained
with Africans' blood, rendered poisonous by guilt, while they hold my
innocent fellow as a slave . . . Fast bound by eternal truth, I have hold of
the God of Israel, like a Jacob, and will not let him go. I will be made a prince
by prevailing, though a halter be about my neck. Jacob, I will excell you in
proportion to the present improved state of society. Miss Campbell, though
a goddess, I have a command for thee to obey: like the Christians of old,
you have fallen from the purity of the Maroons, your original.27
In 1819 Wedderburn opened a tavern chapel on the corner of
Hopkins Street in Soho, London. In this chapel, which he registered
as a Unitarian meeting house for a sect which he later described as
`Christian Diabolists' or `Devil Worshippers', up to 300 people
converged to listen to his potent mixture of religious zeal and
popular radicalism, permeated by scriptural symbolism, prophetic
rhetoric and personalised testimonies of his `sleeping visions'.28 In
what we can assume was a unique interplay between performer and
audience during his `farcical theological debates' with the dwarf
shoemaker Samuel Waddington, Wedderburn fused theatrical dia-
tribe with anti-clerical blasphemy: he urged his audience to do all
that was in their power to overthrow the establishment, even
persuading them to participate in dawn drills on Primrose Hill and
to tear up iron palisades for use as weapons.29
Wedderburn's discourse enigmatically converges with that of the
poet and mystic William Blake, whose `Marriage of Heaven and
Hell' (c. 1790±3), a `diabolic' response to Swedenborg, prescribed
the `Voice of the Devil' and the `Proverbs of Hell' as part of an
onslaught against self-righteous members of society and orthodox
Christian piety. Blake's account of the ancient poets' receptivity to
the gods of nature corresponded closely to the ànimism' of African
cults, whilst his text, Àll Religions Are One' (c. 1788) stipulated the
prime importance of the spirit of prophecy in all religions:
The ancient Poets animated all sensible objects with Gods or Geniuses,
calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of
woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged
& numerous senses could perceive . . . The Religions of all Nations are
derived from each Nations different reception of the Poetic Genius which is
every where call'd the Spirit of Prophecy . . . The true Man is the source
[of all Religions], he being the Poetic Genius.30
The emphasis laid by dissenting Protestantism upon the inspira-
tional role of song, and upon images of rebirth and transformation,
made easy transference to the prophetic belief systems prevalent
among West Indians and Africans. However, Wedderburn's radical
individualism stretched these elements to extreme limits.31 In 1820,
Wedderburn was tried for blasphemy, a trial in which he represented
himself, claiming that even if a barrister were to plead his cause
gratuitously, `he would not dare to do it upon principle'. In the
written script which formed his defence, and which the author had
intended to be read by the preacher and pornographer George
Cannon (alias Erasmus Perkins), Wedderburn ridiculed the inter-
relationship between `the state religion', the enforcement of the `law
of the land', and the former's enforcement at the expense of òther
opinions or laws'. Wedderburn claimed that the established religion
propagated such archaic laws and enactments that if they were `now
resorted to, [they] would be instantly erased from the statute-book as
absurd, or inhuman, and totally inconsistent with the enlightenment
of the present day'.32
In the same manner as Phillis Wheatley's èvangelical' schema,
Wedderburn con¯ated tenets of spiritual illumination with demands
for the emancipation of the human mind from `tyrannical and
intolerant laws of darkness, ignorance and the trammels of super-
stition':
Therefore I trust that you will not suffer yourselves to be ensnared by that
sophistical mode of reasoning which makes me guilty of a crime, merely,
because I have offended against opinions or laws originating in times still
more bigotted and superstitious than the present. ± You will be told that,
because christianity, or what they choose to call christianity, is a part of the
law of the land, or in other words `the state religion', that those whose
opinions differ materially from it, must necessarily be punished if they
circulate those opinions.33
Moreover, as with the slave confessional narratives discussed above,
Wedderburn promotes his oral defence as a testimony to the nature of
truth, a concept which he identi®ed with freedom of religious opinion
and liberty of speech. Wedderburn therefore regarded his trial as
part of his mission to expose the ùntruths' of legal and theological
discourse:
There is no one who will deny the value and importance of truth, but how
is it to be ascertained, if we are not allowed the liberty of free inquiry? Does
not Paul tell us to `prove all things, and to hold fast the best;' but how are we to
be determined in our choice, if we are not allowed to canvas and discuss
the merits or demerits of particular systems? . . . I cannot but blush at the
weakness and bad policy of those who seek to support their cause by the
persecution of an humble individual like myself, when the clergymen of the
established church of England alone are 20,000, and their wages amount to
two millions annually: in addition to these, there are 50,000 dissenting
ministers of different denominations.34
In his attempts to identify his own struggles with those of Christ (`He
was like myself, one of the lower order, and a genuine radical
reformer'), Wedderburn endorses a strategic disassociation of
`genuine Christianity' from the `state religion' and posits a `re-vision'
of Christ as an egalitarian `who despised the rich for the hardness of
their hearts': `What did he [ Jesus Christ] say, "acknowledge no king."
He was a reformer . . . acknowledge no lord . . . acknowledge no
rabbi, (no priest:) no! he knew their tricks, and says, stand it no
longer'.35 Wedderburn's spirited defence (which included statements
such as ìf, on the contrary, the spirit of bigotry and religious
persecution prevails over you, I shall have this satisfaction, that I
suffer like Christ' and Ì shall be far happier in the dungeon to which
you may consign me, than my persecutors, on their beds of down')
ended with an outrageously ironic `plea' to (or rather ridicule of ) the
jury.36 Not surprisingly, his defence was rejected; Wedderburn was
convicted of using `blasphemous and profane words' and of im-
piously reviling that book of `great antiquity' which, it was professed,
determined not only the religion of England, but of àll the civilised
and enlightened nations'. The judges severely reprimanded Wedder-
burn's refusal to repent and consequently denounced his propaga-
tion of linguistic and theological deviance as pure `licentiousness',
before proceeding to pass sentence:
It is our duty then to remove you, at least for a time, from society, that you
may be prevented doing it a further injury by the dissemination of your
dangerous doctrine. The Court do therefore sentence you to be imprisoned
for two years in his majesty's jail at Dorchester.37
Wedderburn's (albeit temporary) removal from society (by means of
his imprisonment) re¯ected the serious extent to which the court
feared the in¯uential disruption that his `dangerous doctrine' might
cause. As such, Wedderburn's text registers a signi®cant departure
from the cultural acquiescence suggested by the slave narratives
discussed above.
`can i contain myself at this? ': wedderburn's

horrors of slavery 3 8
Seven years after the fourth edition of Axe Laid to the Root, Wedder-
burn published a small pamphlet entitled, The Horrors of Slavery:
Exempli®ed in the Life and History of the Revd Robert Wedderburn (1824),
dedicated to William Wilberforce. As the subtitle, `Robert Wedder-
burn (late Prisoner in his Majesty's Gaol at Dorchester, for Con-
science-sake), Son of the Late James Wedderburn, Esq. of Inveresk,
Slave Dealer, by One of his Slaves in the Island of Jamaica'
explained, Wedderburn had narrowly escaped the more serious
charge of high treason. The opening lines of Wedderburn's text
suggest a narrative delineating an aged man's humble recollection of
past transgressions:
I am now upwards of sixty years of age, and therefore I cannot long expect
to be numbered amongst the living. But, before I pass from this vale of
tears, I deem it an act of justice to myself, to my children, and to the
memory of my mother, to say what I am, and who were the authors of my
existence.39
However, what follows is an intense declaration of individual
freedom, hinged upon Wedderburn's denunciation of his paternal
ancestry and promotion of his maternal cultural heritage: `To shew
the world . . . the inhumanity of a MAN, whom I am compelled to
call by the name of FATHER. I am the offspring of a slave, it is true;
but I am a man of free thought and opinion'.40 In a letter to the
editor of Bell's Life in London of February 1824, Wedderburn identi®ed
himself as the progeny of the miscegenetic and deplorable actions of
the late James Wedderburn, whom he claimed, had `FORCED' his
mother to submit to him `THOUGH HE KNEW SHE DISLIKED
HIM!'41 The subsequent reply (similarly published in Bell's Life) by
the author's brother (who had changed his name to A. Colville)
dismissed Wedderburn's claims of kinship: Ì have to state, that the
person calling himself Robert Wedderburn is NOT a son of the late
Mr James Wedderburn, of Inveresk, who never had any child by, or
any connection of that kind with the mother of that man'.42
As part of this endeavour to reclaim his past, Wedderburn
attempts to `reconstruct' and `de-stigmatise' his mother, Rosanna
(whose memory he claimed had been reviled by his white half-
brother, A. Colville), and to align his own (rebellious) nature with
hers, even to the extent of endorsing her attempted infanticide:
A younger and more fortunate brother of mine, the aforesaid A. Colville,
Esq. has had the insolence to revile her memory in the most abusive
language, and to stigmatise her for that which was owing to the deep and
dark iniquity of my father . . . I have not the least doubt but that from her
rebellious and violent temper during that period, that I have inherited the
same disposition ± the same desire to see justice overtake the oppressors of
my country-men ± and the same determination to lose [sic] no stone
unturned, to accomplish so desirable an object.43
Wedderburn's disenfranchisement had been aggravated by letters to
the press which had refuted his claims for inheritance and had
sullied his mother's reputation. In a letter to the editor of Bell's Life in
London it was insinuated that Wedderburn's mother `was delivered of
a mulatto child' and because `she could not tell who was the father, her
master, in a foolish joke, named the child Wedderburn'.44 Conse-
quently, Wedderburn's Horrors of Slavery endeavours to reestablish his
mother's virtue and integrity; furthermore, it interweaves within the
dominant network a fabric articulating the proud and rebellious
nature of his mixed ancestral and cultural identity, inherited from his
African mother and grandmother, and his white grandfather:
My grandfather was a staunch Jacobite . . . When I ®rst came to England,
in the year 1779, I remember seeing the remains of a rebel's skull which had
been af®xed over Temple Bar; but I never yet could fully ascertain whether
it was my dear grandfather's skull, or not.45
The text's dedication to William Wilberforce (`Your name stands
high in the list of glorious benefactors of the human race; and the
slaves of the earth look upon you as a tower of strength') appears to
inaugurate an abolitionist polemic in honour of Wilberforce.
However, the literary autobiography which follows presents the
author as an òppressed, insulted and degraded African', whose
censure of his paternal father entailed a denunciation of colonialist
ideology and of the English legislature.46 Although ostensibly an
autobiographical text, Wedderburn's Horrors of Slavery locates addres-
sees other than the `self ' and envisages his audience as including
members of the English public, representatives of the powerful
propertied class (including the Duke of Queensbury and Lady
Douglas) and the legislature, the House of Lords. Wedderburn's
`narrative' therefore not only functions as a striking exposeÂ of a
delicate site of taboo (the disclosure of his own sexual genesis) but
also as a signi®cant disclosure of the dynamics of miscegenation
amongst his audience, the aristocracy and their colonial counter-
parts, the West Indian planters:
It is a common practice . . . for the planters to have lewd intercourse with
their female slaves; and so inhuman are many of these said planters, that
many well-authenticated instances are known, of their selling their slaves
while pregnant, and making that a pretence to enhance their value.47
Wedderburn personalised his account of miscegenation by citing
details of the licentious and interracial conduct of his father, whose
behaviour is encapsulated by the metaphorical title of `male-
midwife'. According to Wedderburn, as soon as his father became
rich, `he gave loose to his carnal appetites, and indulged himself
without moderation . . . [in] libidinous excess'. In so doing, he
became à perfect parish bull [stud]' whose sexual pleasure was the
greater since it simultaneously ìncreased his pro®ts' and whose
house (or harem) was ®lled with female slaves, such as his mother.
Amongst these òbjects of his lust', he strutted `like Solomon in his
grand seraglio', or rather, `like a bantam cock upon his own
dunghill', and his slaves `did increase and multiply, like Jacob's
kine'.48
Interestingly, Wedderburn's narrative wavers between an endea-
vour to denounce his paternal lineage and to ful®l the paradigm of
the mulatto identity by reinstating his birthrights from both branches
of his parentage. On the one hand, therefore, his text presents an
effort to valorise his African legacy and redeem the name of the
mother whom his `father' had `made the object of his brutal lust'
and on the other, it presents a narrative of dispossession in terms of
his (dis)inheritance of the Wedderburn estate:
My father's name was JAMES WEDDERBURN, Esq. of Inveresk, in
Scotland, an extensive proprietor, of sugar estates in Jamaica, which are
now in the possession of a younger brother of mine, by name, A.
COLVILLE, Esq. of No. 35, Leadenhall Street . . . From him [my father] I
have received no bene®t in the world.49
Hence Wedderburn's Horrors of Slavery can be read not merely as a

vili®cation of slave ideology but as a developed vindication of
African cultural legacy. His work registers a further stage of the
miscegenetic authenticity and cultural hybridity contained in the
works by Wheatley and Equiano. As such, its `creolised' discourse of
¯uidity, heterogeneity, movement and change demarcated an illumi-
nating revision of established (static) concepts of power, possession
and identity.
Robert's `brother' changed his name to Colville in order to secure
his rights of inheritance on his mother's side; likewise his father
changed his name to Wedderburn-Colville. Indeed, a close analysis
of Wedderburn's text reveals it to be a narrative saturated with terms
of proprietorship ± of objects and subjects, slaves and women ± and
of interrupted inheritance: èstates . . . now in the possession of a
younger brother of mine'; `my father was restored to his father's
property'; `they [female slaves] being his personal property'; `[he]
determined to have possession of her'; `from the time my mother
became the property of my father'; and `she [my mother] was the
property of Lady Douglas'. Wedderburn's claims for `rightful inherit-
ance', however, are not unproblematic, especially when one con-
siders that his father James Wedderburn had made his fortune as a
result of his status as an èxtensive proprietor of sugar [slave] estates
in Jamaica', and more dubiously, as a result of his acts of self-
reproduction by means of his `rape' of female slaves, Wedderburn's
own mother.
Wedderburn's tract draws loosely upon the genre of abolitionist
redemption autobiography established by members of London's
black literati, such as Cugoano and Equiano, yet its author could not
claim to have suffered directly the `horrors' implied by the title of his
pamphlet. Rather, the `horrors' he locates are those of cultural
disenfranchisement, material dispossession and sociopolitical in-
equality. The narrative of persecution which follows, therefore,
details his continued sufferings and injustices beyond the temporal
boundaries of plantocratic societies. Whilst his narrative bears
comparison with former autobiographies of evangelical conversion
and spiritual illumination, it is hinged essentially upon a paradigm of
intervention, exposed and manifested by the product of cultural
miscegenation ± the mulatto ®gure itself.
Wedderburn's efforts to ridicule government during entertaining
public debates invoking provocative calls for his ¯ock of `Christian
Diabolists' or `Devil Worshippers' to do all that was in their power
to overthrow established authority, undoubtedly unsettled the latter,
who, as McCalman records, employed spies in order to keep him
under strict surveillance. Even from prison, Wedderburn continued
his resolute, radical refutation of cultural orthodoxy, evidenced by
his tract, Cast-Iron Parsons: Or `Hints to the Public and the Legislature, on
Political Economy, Clearly Proving the Clergy Can be Entirely Dispensed With,
Without Injury to the Christian Religion, or the Established Church, and to the
Great Advantage of the State':
State Prison, Dorchester, July 28th, 1820:

My Dear Friend, You will naturally suppose that my solitary hours are
much occupied with my favourite hobby, THEOLOGY; but a subject has at
times engaged my attention, which is equally connected with political
economy as with religion . . . I shall now give a slight sketch of the
operative part of my scheme, which is as follows: ± That the legislature pass
an act . . . that the order of persons called Clergy, or Priests, Deacons,
Curates, Rectors, Vicars &c. of the Establishment, be totally annihilated,
suppressed, and abolished. That every parish shall, immediately after that
time, purchase one of the Cast-Iron Parsons.50
Consequently, Wedderburn's texts and speeches registered a
radical challenge to the established authority of England's political
legislature and a signi®cant departure from the more subtle `creo-
lised' strategies contained within the earlier slave narratives.
Wedderburn's last known and most curious tract, `The Holy
Liturgy: Or Divine Science, upon the Principle of Pure Christian
Diabolism, Most Strictly Founded upon the Sacred Scriptures', was
published before his death at the age of seventy-two (one year before
the abolition of slavery in the West Indies) and was partially
reproduced on 21 March, 1828 by his fellow inmate, Richard
Carlisle, in his journal The Lion. Here Wedderburn displayed the
same radical demands and parodic anti-establishment critiques
which had typi®ed his dynamic performances in his Christian diabo-
list Chapel in Hopkins Street:
Startle not, gentle Christian reader, at the name DIABOLICAL CHRIS-
TIANS; but carefully as thou valuest thine Eternal Salvation, examine the
Scriptural principle of this new sect, and say, if they are not justi®ed, by all
that is held sacred, in Christian Revelation, and by the most seriously
disposed Christians. It is not a profane hand, it is not the hand of the reviler, that
passeth over this page: but the hand of a most sincere Christian . . . OUR PRAYERS
SHALL BE ALL MOST PROPERLY ADDRESSED TO THE MAJESTY
OF HELL, to the `GOD OF THIS WORLD', to that IMPERFECT, that
OMNIMALEVOLENT, though POWERFUL BEING, THE DEVIL. This
it is, that will justify our assumed appellation of CHRISTIAN DIABO-
LISTS . . . THE GOD OF HELL and ÒF THIS WORLD' partakes in
part of our character and imperfections, and is, consequently. . . a Being to be
feared, to be worshipped, to be cajoled with prayer.51
In an enigmatic, if not disquieting way, the obsessiveness of

Wedderburn's `creolised' antinomian rhetoric elucidated, in no
ambiguous terms, the psychological effects that the traumatic
processes of sexual violence, cultural disturbance, dispossession,
denial of rights and displacement had upon the African (now
diasporic) slaves. Whereas the Romantics had displayed varying
degrees of af®nity with abolitionist and political radicalism, yet had
stayed, on the whole, within the con®nes of the law, Wedderburn
took such radicalism to a site of ìllegitimate' anarchy. In his hands,
the bicultural tactics presented within the earlier narratives by slaves
such as Wheatley and Equiano, reached a volatile climax in terms of
his radical negation of church/state authority and his demands
for ownership and `cultural' insurrection. Hence Wedderburn's
determined struggle for recognition and justice anticipated the
concern over citizenship and civil rights which continued to pre-
occupy blacks on both sides of the Atlantic. As his text completed
the translation of the discourse of the spirit into the discourse of
legislative power, his endeavour to extend the concepts of individual
autonomy and divine election in terms of his political demands took
the example established by dissenting Protestantism to a heterodox-
ical extreme. Accordingly, his work exceeded and, in a sense,
exacerbated, the parameters of spiritual discourse contained within
the earlier slave narratives and established a conscious ful®lment of
the more discrete demands for miscegenetic authenticity and cul-
tural hybridity. The `diabolic' enterprise of Wedderburn's work
thereby endorsed the paradigm of `creolised' dynamics, not merely
as a re¯ection of the fusion of elements of dissenting Protestantism
with fundamental elements of African belief systems, but as narra-
tives of movement, ¯uidity and heterogeneity characteristic of
identity con®guration in the black diaspora. As I hope to have
demonstrated, this process coincided with the development of hybrid
linguistics (such as creole and patois) and the evolution of cross-
cultural epistemologies, hinged upon the dynamics of miscegenation
during the late eighteenth century. Articulated within the auto-
biographical works by Wedderburn, Equiano, Phillis Wheatley and
others, the diasporic identity emerged as a self-conscious trope of
cultural hybridity, premised simultaneously upon both the assimila-
tion and chiasmus of the dominant social and literary order. Such a
process was, by its very nature, hinged upon a narrative of incessant
movement, of persistent `translation' and of indeterminate and
ceaseless transformation. Most importantly, the conscious expression
of this integral process of ¯uidity and metamorphosis provided a
radical challenge to established concepts of culture and race. In its
continuous assimilation of and divergence from diverse cultural
epistemologies and hermeneutical schemas, the paradigm of identity
in the diaspora provided an appropriate framework for the dynamics
of discourse itself.
Notes
introduction
1 Letter from Lord Sydney to the Lord Commissioners, 7 December 1786,
Parliamentary Papers (1789) vol. 89; Nigel File and Chris Power, Black
Settlers in Britain 1555±1958 (1981; repr. Hampshire: Heinemann Educa-
tional Press, 1990) 26.
2 Parliamentary Committee on Convict Transportation, 1786. For a more
detailed discussion of the colony of Sierra Leone see Christopher Fyfe,
A History of Sierra Leone (1962; Hampshire: Gregg Revivals, 1993); Joan
Anim-Addo, Sugar Spices and Human Cargo: An Early Black History of
Greenwich (Greenwich: Leisure Services, 1996); Lamin Sanneh, West
African Christianity: Its Religious Impact (London: George Allen and Unwin,
1983).
3 Proclamation 1786; Letter from Lord Sydney to the Lord Commis-
sioners, 7 December 1786, Parliamentary Papers, (1789) vol. 89.
4 Minutes of the Committee for the Black Poor, 9 and 24 October 1786.
5 The Public Advertiser, 3 January 1787.
6 Moira Ferguson, Subject to Others: British Women Writers and Colonial
Slavery, 1670±1834 (London: Routledge, 1992) 118.
7 Ibid., 199.
8 A. F. Walls, The Mission of the Church and the Propagation of the Faith
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970) 107±29; Stiv Jakobsson,
Am I Not a Man and a Brother? British Missionaries and the Abolition of the Slave
Trade and Slavery in West Africa and the West Indies 1786±1838 (Lund:
Gleerup, 1972) 68±9.
9 Ottobah Cugoano, Thoughts and Sentiments on the Evil and Wicked Traf®c of
the Slavery and Commerce of the Human Species Humbly Submitted to the
Inhabitants of Great Britain (London, 1787).
10 The Public Advertiser, 4 April 1787.
11 See Fyfe, A History of Sierra Leone; Paul Edwards and David Dabydeen
Black Writers in Britain, 1760±1890 (1991; Edinburgh: Edinburgh Univer-
sity Press, 1994) 83±98, 87.
12 Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation
(London: Routledge, 1992).
272
Notes to pages 5±8 273
13 This point responds to Richard Wright's request that we attempt to
discover such a relation between the two worlds. Richard Wright,
African Philosophy: An Introduction, 3rd edn. (Lanham, M.D.: University of
Toledo, 1984) 26±7.
14 V. Y. Mudimbe, Tales of Faith: Religion as Political Performance in Central
Africa (London: Athlone Press, 1997).
15 Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (London:
Verso, 1993) 4, 12.
16 15 Stuart Hall, `Cultural Identity and Diaspora', Identity: Community,
Culture, Difference, ed. Jonathan Rutherford (London: Lawrence and
Wishart, 1990) 222±37.
17 Jim Clifford, `Diasporas', Cultural Anthropology 9 (1994): 302±38; Law-
rence Grossberg, Ìdentity and Cultural Studies ± Is That All There Is?',
Questions of Cultural Identity, ed. Stuart Hall and Paul du Gay (London:
Sage, 1996) 92.
18 Homi K. Bhabha, `The Third Space: Interview with Homi K. Bhabha',
Identity: Community, Culture, Difference, ed. Jonathan Rutherford, 221.
19 Ibid., 221; see also James Clifford, The Predicament of Culture, Twentieth-
Century Ethnography, Literature, and Art (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Uni-
versity Press, 1988) 1±17.
20 Raman Selden and Peter Widdowson, A Reader's Guide to Contemporary
Literary Theory (1985; Brighton: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1993) 127±51;
Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. Alan Sheridan
(London: Tavistock Publications, 1972); Diane Macdonell, Theories of
Discourse: An Introduction (Oxford: Blackwell, 1986) 1. See also Sara Mills,
Discourses of Difference: An Analysis of Women's Travel Writing and Colonialism
(London: Routledge, 1993) for an interesting study of feminist discourse
theory analysis in relation to British women writers of the late nine-
teenth century.
21 Paul de Man, Allegories of Reading: Figural Language in Rousseau, Nietzsche,
Rilke, and Proust (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979); Hall and du
Gay, Questions of Cultural Identity, 4.
22 Emile Benveniste, Problems in General Linguistics, trans. Mary Meek (Coral
Gables: University of Miami Press, 1971) 224±5.
23 Paul Gilroy, `There Ain't No Black in the Union Jack': The Cultural Politics of
Race and Nation (London: Hutchinson, 1987); Small Acts: Thoughts on the
Politics of Black Cultures (London: Serpent's Tail, 1993); Robert Young,
White Mythologies: Writing History and the West (London: Routledge, 1990);
Carl Plasa and Betty Ring, eds, The Discourse of Slavery: Aphra Behn to Toni
Morrison (London: Routledge, 1994); Edwards and Dabydeen, eds, Black
Writers in Britain, 1760±1890; Peter Fryer, Staying Power: The History of
Black People in Britain (London: Pluto Press, 1984); Keith Sandiford,
Measuring the Moment: Strategies of Protest in Eighteenth-Century Afro-English
Writing (Selinsgrove: Susquehanna Press, 1988); William Andrews, Sisters
of the Spirit: Three Black Women's Autobiographies of the Nineteenth Century
274 Notes to pages 10±17
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986); idem, To Tell a Free Story:
The First Century of Afro-American Autobiography, 1760±1865 (Urbana:
Illinois University Press, 1986); Houston Baker, Blues, Ideology and Afro-
American Literature: A Vernacular Theory (Chicago: Chicago University
Press, 1984); Henry Louis Gates, The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of
African-American Literary Criticism (New York: Oxford University Press,
1988).
24 John A. Holm, Pidgin and Creoles, 2 vols. (Cambridge University Press,
1988) vol. i, 6.
25 Kwame Anthony Appiah, In My Father's House: Africa in the Philosophy of
Culture (London: Methuen, 1992). I am grateful to Alan Richardson for
recommending this text to me.
26 Wright, African Philosophy: An Introduction, 35, 43; Henri Maurier, `Do we
Have an African Philosophy?', African Philosophy 25±40, 35.
27 Richard Onwuanibe, `The Human Person and Immortality in Ibo
(African) Metaphysics', African Philosophy 183±97, 189.
28 Dennis Porter, Òrientalism and its Problems', The Politics of Theory:
Proceedings of the Essex Conference on the Sociology of Literature, July 1982, ed.
Francis Barker, Peter Hulme, Margaret Iversen and Diana Loxley
(Colchester: University of Essex, 1983) 181. Edward Said, Orientalism:
Western Representations of the Orient (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul,
1978).
1 the english slave trade and abolitionism

1 Charles MacInnes, England and Slavery (Bristol: Arrowsmith, 1934) 18;
Peter Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (London:
Pluto, 1984) 8. For further discussion see James Walvin, Black Ivory: A
History of British Slavery (London: Harper Collins, 1992); Eric Williams,
Capitalism and Slavery (1945; London: Andre Deutsch, 1964); Anthony
Tibbles, ed., Transatlantic Slavery: Against Human Dignity (Liverpool:
National Museums and Galleries on Merseyside, 1994).
2 Jamaica was seized from Spain in 1655. See David Richardson, `The
Rise of the Atlantic Empires', Transatlantic Slavery: Against Human Dignity,
ed. Anthony Tibbles, 22.
3 See Philip Curtin, The Atlantic Slave Trade: A Census (Madison: Wisconsin
University Press, 1969) 122±3, 128±30.
4 Robin Blackburn, The Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, 1776±1848 (London:
Verso, 1990) 5. In his book Blackburn argues that slavery was not
overthrown purely for economic reasons but because it became politi-
cally untenable. Blackburn also suggests that the progress of abolition
depended upon black intervention, upon slave resistance and upon the
black `Jacobin' breakthrough in the 1790s ± that is, that without the black
contribution to antislavery feeling, the challenge to colonial slavery could
not possibly have triumphed. See also Williams, Capitalism and Slavery.
5 Blackburn, Overthrow, 12±13.
6 Norman McCullough, The Negro in English Literature: A Critical Introduction
(Ilfracombe: Arthur H. Stockwell, 1962) 55.
7 B.W. Higman, Slave Populations of the British Caribbean, 1807±1834 (Balti-
more: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1984) 72; idem, Slave Population and
Economy in Jamaica, 1807±1834 (Kingston: The University of the West
Indies Press, 1995) 15.
8 Elsa Goveia, Slave Society in the British Leeward Islands at the End of the
Eighteenth Century (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965) 152.
9 William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England in Four Books, 8th
edn., 4 vols. (Oxford, 1779) vol. i, 424. See also David Brion Davis, The
Problem of Slavery in the Age of Revolution, 1770±1823 (Ithaca: Cornell
University Press, 1975).
10 For an excellent discussion of British antislavery and emancipation see
Howard Temperley, British Antislavery, 1833±1870 (London: Longman,
1972).
11 Michael Craton, James Walvin and David Wright, eds, Slavery, Abolition
and Emancipation: Black Slaves and the British Empire (London: Longman,
1972) 170; cited in Moira Ferguson, Subject to Others: British Women Writers
and Colonial Slavery, 1670±1834 (London: Routledge, 1992) 116±17.
12 Edward Long, Candid Re¯ections upon the Judgement Lately Awarded by the
Court of the King's Bench in Westminster-Hall, on What is Commonly Called `the
Negroe Cause' by a Planter (London, 1772) iii.
13 Ibid., 24, 4, 39.
14 The London Chronicle, 13±16 March 1773; cited in Nigel File and Chris
Power, eds, Black Settlers in Britain, 1555±1958 (1981; repr. Hampshire:
Heinemann Educational Press, 1990) 23.
15 Aristotle, Aristotle's Ethics and Politics Comprising His Practical Philosophy, ed.
John Gillies, 2 vols. (London, 1797) vol. ii, 27. See Sandiford, Measuring
the Moment: Strategies of Protest in Eighteenth-Century Afro-English Writing
(Selinsgrove: Susquehanna Press, 1988) for an excellent discussion of the
intellectual milieu surrounding the abolitionist debate.
16 Aristotle, Ethics, vol. ii, 29.
17 John Locke, Èssay Concerning the True Original, Extent, and End of
Civil Government', Two Treatises of Government: In the Former, the False
Principles, and Foundation of Sir Robert Filmer, and His Followers, Are Detected
and Overthrown. The Latter is an Essay Concerning the True Original, Extent, and
End of Civil Government (London, 1690) 220.
18 Ibid., 220.
19 Ibid., 1.
20 Ibid., 242.
21 Ibid., 242.
22 David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture (Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1966) 118.
23 Charles Louis Montesquieu, De l'espirit des lois, ed. Anne Cohler, Basia
Miller and Harold Stone (Cambridge University Press, 1989). See also
Montesquieu, The Spirit of Laws, trans. T. Nugent, 2 vols. (London,
1750); The Spirit of Laws, ed. David Wallace Carrithers (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1977) 18±23. Carrithers notes the irony
of the fact that it took a Frenchman to explain the British constitution
to the British. So authorative was Montesquieu's account, that it was
ampli®ed by Blackstone in his Commentaries on the Laws of England
(1765±1769).
24 Montesquieu, The Spirit of Laws (London, 1750) vol. i, 337, 336.
25 Ibid., vol. i, 348, 339.
26 Act 38, Clause 40, Acts of Assembly, Passed in the Island of Jamaica; from
1681, to 1754, Inclusive (London, 1756) 63: `No Slave shall be free by
becoming a Christian'.
27 John Atkins, A Voyage to Guinea, Brasil, and the West Indies; in His Majesty's
Ships, the Swallow and Weymouth. Describing the Several Islands and Settlements,
the Colour, Diet, Languages, Habits, Manners, Customs and Religions of the
Respective Natives, and Inhabitants. With Remarks on the Gold, Ivory, and Slave
Trade; and on the Winds, Tides and Currents of the Several Coasts (London,
1735); Francis Hutcheson, A System of Moral Philosophy in Three Books, 2
vols. (Glasgow, 1755); Sir Hans Sloane, A Voyage to the Islands Madera,
Barbados, Nieves, S. Christophers and Jamaica with the Natural History of the
Herbs and Trees, Four-footed Beasts, Fishes, Birds, Insects, Reptiles &c. of those
Islands: To Which is Pre®x'd an Introduction, wherein Is an Account of the
Inhabitants, Air, Waters, Diseases, Trade &c. of that Place, 2 vols. (London,
1707): `The Negros are usually thought to be haters of their own Children,
and therefore `tis believed that they sell and dispose of them to
Strangers for Money, but this is not true . . . The Punishments for
Crimes of Slaves, are usually for Rebellions burning them, by nailing
them down on the ground, and then applying the Fire by degrees from
the Feet and Hands, burning them gradually up to the Head, whereby
their pains are extravagant. For Crimes of a lesser nature Gelding, or
chopping off half of the Foot with an Axe. These Punishments are
suffered by them with great Constancy (vol. 1, lvi-lvii).'
28 Hutcheson, System, vol. i, xvi, 1.
29 Ibid., vol. i, 299.
30 Ibid., vol. i, 293.
31 Ibid., vol. i, 300±1.
32 Ibid., vol. i, 300.
33 George Wallace, A System of the Principles of the Law of Scotland (Edinburgh,
1760) 89±90.
34 Ibid., 91.
35 Ibid., 96.
36 Antony Benezet, A Short Account of That Part of Africa Inhabited by Negroes
(Philadelphia, 1762); Michel Adanson, A Voyage to Senegal, the Isle of Goree
and the River Gambia, trans. Jean de Fouchy (London, 1759); William
Bosman, A New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea, Divided into the
Gold, the Slave, and the Ivory Coasts. Containing a Geographical, Political and
Natural History of the Kingdoms and Countries: With a Particular Account of the
Rise, Progress and Present Condition of All the European Settlements upon that Coast;
and the Just Measures for Improving the Several Branches of the Guinea Trade
(London, 1705); William Smith, A New Voyage to Guinea (London, 1744).
37 Antony Benezet, Some Historical Account of Guinea, its Situation, Produce and
the General Disposition of its Inhabitants. With an Inquiry into the Rise and
Progress of the Slave Trade, its Nature and Lamentable Effects. Also a Republica-
tion of the Sentiments of Several Authors of Note on This Interesting Subject;
Particularly an Extract of a Treatise by G. Sharp (Philadelphia, 1771) i.
38 Benezet, Some Historical Account, 94±5.
39 Ibid., iii.
40 Antony Benezet, A Caution and Warning to Great Britain and Her Colonies, in
a Short Representation of the Calamitous State of the Enslaved Negroes in the
British Dominions (Philadelphia, 1766) 4±5, 23.
41 Benezet, A Caution and Warning, 4, 97.
42 Guillaume Thomas Raynal, A Philosophical and Political History of the
Settlements and Trade of the Europeans in the East and West Indies, trans.
J. Justamond, 5 vols. (London, 1776) vol. iii, 422.
43 Ibid., vol. iii, 510.
44 Ibid., vol. iii, 506.
45 Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, 55.
46 Adam Smith, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, 2
vols. (London, 1776) vol. ii, 587.
47 John Millar, The Origin of the Distinction of Ranks (1771; London, 1779) 347.
48 Ibid., 349.
49 James Beattie, An Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth, in Opposition
to Sophistry and Scepticism, 2nd edn. (Edinburgh, 1771); see Sandiford
47±9. David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature: Being an Attempt to Introduce
the Experimental Method of Reasoning into Moral Subjects, 3 vols. (London,
1739) and The Philosophical Works of David Hume, 4 vols. (Edinburgh:
Adam and William Tait, 1826).
50 Beattie, An Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth, 507, 506, 508. Two
decades after this publication, Beattie, in his Elements of Moral Science
(1790; Edinburgh, 1793) presented an argument against slavery on
humanitarian rather than rationalistic grounds.
51 Beattie, An Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth, 509, 512.
52 David Bebbington, Evangelicism in Modern Britain: A History from the 1730s
to the 1980s (London: Unwin Hyman, 1989).
53 Ibid., 20; Mark Noll, David Bebbington and George Rawlyk, Evangelic-
alism: Comparative Studies of Popular Protestantism in North America, the British
Isles, and Beyond, 1700±1990 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994) 6.
54 Encyclopaedia of Religion, ed. Mircea Eliade, 20 vols. (London: Macmillan,
1987) vol. v, 32±6, 370.
55 Harry Richardson, Dark Salvation: The Story of Methodism as it Developed
Among Blacks in America (New York: Anchor Press, 1976) 9.
56 Robert Southey, The Life of Wesley and the Rise and Progress of Methodism
(London: Warne, 1889) 476.
57 John Wesley, The Works of John Wesley, ed. Albert Outler, 5 vols.
(Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1984) vol. i, 5. John Wesley's `strange
warming' of the heart on 24 May 1738 signalled the birth of Evangelical
Methodism whilst the conversion of William Grimshaw in 1742 and the
appointment of William Romaine as lecturer at St. Dunstan's, London,
in 1748, marked the birth of Evangelical Anglicanism.
58 It was a style that was to strategically in¯uence the Preface accompany-
ing the second edition of Wordsworth's and Coleridge's collection of
Lyrical Ballads, with a Few Other Poems, published in London 1800.
59 Wesley, Preface to `Sermons on Several Occasions' (1746), Works, vol. i,
104±6.
60 George Fox, A Journal, or an Historical Account of the Life, Travels, Sufferings,
Christian Experience and Labour of Love in the Ministry of George Fox (London,
1694); John Woolman, A Journal of the Life, Gospel Labours and Christian
Experience of that Faithful Minister of Jesus Christ, John Woolman, to Which are
Added his Works (Dublin, 1776); William Penn, No Cross, No Crown: Or
Several Sober Reasons against Hat-Honour, Titular Respects, Yon to a Single
Person, with the Apparel and Recreations of the Times (London, 1669); Robert
Barclay, An Apology for the True Christian Divinity, As the Same Is Held Forth
by the Quakers (Aberdeen, 1678).
61 John Woolman, Some Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes (1754; North-
ampton: Gehenna Press, 1970) 13, 84.
62 John Woolman, A Journal, 3.
63 Ibid., 19, 43.
64 Anthony Benezet, The Case of Our Fellow-Creatures, the Oppressed Africans,
Respectfully Recommended to the Serious Consideration of the Legislature of Great
Britain, by the People Call'd Quakers (London, 1784) 3.
65 Ibid., 7.
67 Encyclopaedia of Religion, vol. xv, 200±1.
68 Logie Barrow, Independent Spirits: Spiritualism and English Plebians,
1850±1960 (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1986) 4.
69 Joseph Wood, Thoughts on the Slavery of the Negroes (London, 1786); The
London Meeting for Suffering, The Cause of Our Fellow Creatures the
Oppressed Africans (London, 1784). See Temperley, British Antislavery, 2.
70 Granville Sharp, A Representation of the Injustice and Dangerous Tendency of
Admitting the Least Claim of Private Property in the Persons of Man, in England
(London, 1769); idem, The Just Limitation in the Laws of God, Compared with
the Unbounded Claims of the African Traders and British American Slaveholders
(London, 1776); idem, The Law of Retribution; Or, a Serious Warning to Great
Britain and Her Colonies, Founded on Unquestionable Examples of God's
Temporal Vengeance against Tyrants, Slaveholders and Oppressors (London,
1776).
71 Sandiford, Measuring the Moment, 57; Davis 213±54.
72 Thomas Clarkson, An Essay on Slavery and the Commerce of the Human
Species, Particularly the African. Translated from a Latin Dissertation, Which
Was Honoured with the First Prize in the University of Cambridge for the Year
1785, with Additions (London, 1789); idem, An Essay on the Impolicy of the
African Slave Trade in Two Parts, 2 vols. (London, 1788).
73 Clarkson, An Essay on the Impolicy, 3, 81±2.
74 Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, 169±76.
75 Philip Doddridge, The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul: Illustrated in a
Course of Serious and Practical Addresses (London, 1745) 1±2.
76 Ernest Marshall Howse, The Saints in Politics: The `Clapham Sect' and the
Growth of Freedom (1953; London: Allen and Unwin, 1971) 35.
77 Dissenters included Congregationalists, Baptists and Presbyterians. See
Brantley, Wordsworth's `Natural Methodism', 5; see also F. C. Gill, The
Romantic Movement and Methodism (London: Epworth Press, 1937) and
Thomas Boswell Shepherd, Methodism and the Literature of the Eighteenth
Century (London: Epworth Press, 1940).
78 Encyclopaedia of Religion, vol. xv, 370±1.
79 William Hazlitt, Òn the Causes of Methodism' (1817), The Complete
Works of William Hazlitt, ed. P. P. Howe, 21 vols. (London: J. M. Dent,
1930±4) vol. iv, 57±61; 58, 60.
80 Ibid., 61, 58.
81 See Bernard Semmel, The Methodist Revolution (London: Heinemann,
1974); Eliade vol. ix, 493±5.
82 John Wesley, The New Birth: A Sermon on John 3.7 (London, 1784) 1.
83 Ibid., 5±6.
84 Davis 386±7; Harold Lindstrom, Wesley and Sancti®cation: A Study in the
Doctrine of Salvation (London: Epworth Press, 1950); John Henry Overton,
The Evangelical Revival in the Eighteenth Century, ed. M. Creighton (1886;
London: Longmans, 1898).
85 Richard Brantley, Wordsworth's Natural Methodism (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1975) 6.
86 John Wesley, Advice to the People Call'd Methodists (London, 1745) 3±4.
87 John Wesley, The Character of a Methodist (1743; London, 1745) 17±18.
88 Ibid., 4±5
89 Arnold Rattenbury, `Methodism and the Tatterdemalions', Popular
Culture and Class Con¯ict, 1590±1914: Explorations in the History of Labour and
Leisure, ed. Eileen and Stephen Yeo (Brighton: Harvester Press, 1981)
28±61.
90 Sandiford, Measuring the Moment, 53.
91 John Wesley, Thoughts Upon Slavery, 3rd edn. (London, 1774) 28.
92 Ibid., 17±18.
93 Ibid., 16.
94 Ibid., 20, 27.
95 William Wilberforce, A Letter on the Abolition of the Slave Trade to the
Freeholders and Other Inhabitants of Yorkshire (London: Hansard, 1807) 345,
350±1.
97 George White®eld, A Short Account of God's Dealings with the Reverend Mr
George White®eld from His Infancy, to the Time of His Entring into Holy Orders.
Written by Himself (London, 1740) 11, 49, 69.
98 George White®eld, `Letter to the Inhabitants of Virginia, Maryland,
North and South Carolina, Concerning Their Negroes', Three Letters
from the Reverend George White®eld (London, 1740) 5±11, 6.
99 Edmund Gibson, A Short Preservative Against the Doctrines Rev'd by Mr
White®eld and His Adherents (London, 1739); Tristam Land, A Letter to the
Revd Mr White®eld Designed to Correct His Mistaken Account of Regeneration, or
the New Birth. Written Before His Departure from London and Now Published to
Prevent His Doing Mischief Among the Common People, upon His Return from
Georgia (London, 1739).
100 White®eld, `Letter to the Inhabitants', 8, 10.
101 Temperley, British Antislavery, 7.
102 Thomas Clarkson, The History of the Rise, Progress, and Accomplishment of
the Abolition of the African Slave Trade by the British Parliament, 2 vols.
(London: Longman, Rees and Orme, 1808) vol. i, 286±7; my emphasis.
103 William Wilberforce, Appeal to the Religion, Justice and Humanity of the
Inhabitants of the British Empire in Behalf of the Negro Slaves in the West Indies
(London: J. Hatchard, 1823) 1.
104 Henry William Martin, Sir, A Counter-Appeal in Answer to Àn Appeal' from
William Wilberforce (London: J. Rivington, 1823) 2.
105 Mrs Maddocks, The Female Missionary Advocate, A Poem (London:
J. Holdsworth, 1827) 23±4.
106 Matth. 28: 18±20.
107 Urs Bitterli, Cultures in Con¯ict: Encounters Between European and Non-
European Cultures, 1492±1800 (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1989) 5, 7±8.
108 Paul Edwards and David Dabydeen, eds, Black Writers in Britain,
1760±1890 (1991; Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1994) 83.
109 Henry Smeathman, The Substance of a Plan of a Settlement to Be Made Near
Sierra Leona, on the Grain Coast of Africa (London, 1786).
110 Philip D. Curtin, The Image of Africa: British Ideas and Action, 1780±1890
(London: Macmillan, 1965) 15±17. In 1788, Banks founded the explora-
tory Àssociation for Promoting the Discovery of the Interior Parts of
Africa' (known as the Àfrican Association'), the ostensible purpose of
which was to collect African geographical, ethnographical and bota-
nical data.
111 Smeathman, Substance of a Plan, title page, 24. See also Johnson
Asiegbu, Slavery and the Politics of Liberation (London: Longman, 1969)
1±34, 160±3.
112 Smeathman, Substance of a Plan, 160, 162.
113 Clarkson, History of the Slave Trade, vol. ii, 342
114 Asiegbu 5.
115 Clarkson, History of the Slave Trade, vol. ii, 585±6; my emphasis.
116 Asiegbu, Slavery and the Politics, 11.
117 See Ferguson, Subject to Others, 199.
118 A. F. Walls, The Mission of the Church and the Propagation of the Faith
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970) 107±29; Stiv Ja-
kobsson, Am I Not a Man and a Brother? British Missionaries and the Abolition
of the Slave Trade and Slavery in West Africa and the West Indies 1786±1838
(Lund: Gleerup, 1972) 68±9.
119 Anna Maria Falconbridge, Narrative of Two Voyages to the River Sierra
Leone, During the Years 1791, 1792, 1793 (1794; London: L. I. Highman,
1802) 125, 134±5. Alexander Falconbridge, An Account of the Slave Trade
on the Coast of Africa (London, 1788). For a further discussion of Maria
Falconbridge's text, see Ferguson, Subject to Others, 200±8.
120 Ferguson, Subject to Others, 198.
121 Ibid., 199; Rana Kabbani, Europe's Myth of Orient, Devise and Rule
(London: Macmillan, 1986) 6.
122 Ferguson, Subject to Others, 238±9; my emphasis.
123 Howse, Saints in Politics, 73±6.
124 Philip Curtin, The Image of Africa: British Ideas and Action, 1780±1890
(London: Macmillan, 1965) 262±3; Curtin notes there was an excep-
tion to this educational system: interest of a group of Quakers in
ethnology and linguistics informed a plan of phased acculturation
which began with elementary instruction in African languages alone
and later advanced into education in English.
125 Parliamentary Debates, vol. xxvi, 827±73, 831±72; cited in Howse, Saints
in Politics, 88.
126 William Fox, A Brief History of the Wesleyan Missions on the Western Coast of
Africa: Including Biographical Sketches of All the Missionaries Who Have Died in
that Important Field of Labour. With Some Account of the European Settlements
and of the Slave Trade (London: Aylott and Jones, 1851) v.
127 Fox, A Brief History, 5.
128 William Fox, The Western Coast of Africa, Suggestions on the Best Means of
Exterminating the Slave Trade and Some Accounts of the Success of the Gospel and
of the Present State and Prospects of the Wesleyan Missions on that Coast
(London: Aylott and Jones, 1851) 101, 87; my emphasis.
129 Thomas Coke, A History of the West Indies, Containing the Natural Civil
and Ecclesiastical History of Each Islands; with an Account of the Missions
Instituted in those Islands, from the Commencement of their Civilisation, 3
vols. (Liverpool: Nuttall, Fisher and Dixon, 1808±1811) vol. i, 20±1;
my emphasis. In 1842, the best ®ve texts submitted for an inter-
dominational competition on missionary theory were published,
including John Harris, The Great Commission: Or, the Christian Church
Constituted and Charged to Convey the Gospel to the World (London:
Thomas Ward, 1842) and Baptist Wriothesley Noel, Christian Mis-
sions to Heathen Nations (London: James Nisbet, 1842). In 1850,
Robert Ramsden's text, Missions: Or, a Word for the Heathen, Being
Facts and Anecdotes, Selected from the Journals and Letters of Missionaries
(London: John Nisbet, 1850) concluded with a plea to its readers to
assist in the dissemination of the gospel to those millions `whose
spiritual necessities baf¯e all description': Ò turn not a deaf ear to
the poor African and Hindoo, whose cry is, ``Come over and help
us'' '. Ramsden, Missions, 464±5. See Curtin, The Image of Africa,
267, 415.
130 Coke, A History of the West Indies, vol. i, 30.
131 Ibid., vol. i, 19.
132 Thomas Fowell Buxton, The African Slave Trade and Its Remedy, 2nd edn.
(London: John Murray, 1839) 195±6.
133 Ibid., 305±6, 338±9; my emphasis. Indeed Buxton's conviction
greatly in¯uenced, and in a sense, culminated in Dr. Livingstone's
belief in his own `missionary' role in Africa's social, economic and
spiritual progress. See also Isaac Schapera, ed., Livingstone's Mis-
sionary Correspondence, 1841±1856, 2 vols. (London: Chatto and Windus,
1961).
2 radical dissent and spiritual autobiography: joanna

southcott, john newton and william cowper
1 See Malcolm Bradbury and Richard Ruland, From Puritanism to Post-
modernism: A History of American Literature (London: Routledge, 1991); John
Bunyan, Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners: Or, a Brief and Faithful
Relation of the Exceeding Mercy of God in Christ to His Poor Servant, John
Bunyan (London, 1666); Edward Taylor, Spiritual Relation (Massachusetts,
1679); Increase Mather, The Life and Death of Richard Mather (Cambridge,
Mass., 1670); Cotton Mather, Memoirs of Remarkable Events in the Life and
Death of Dr Increase Mather, who Expired, August 23, 1723 (Boston, 1724); and
Diane Sasson, The Shaker Spiritual Narrative (Knoxville: University of
Tennessee Press, 1983).
2 Thomas Jackson, The Lives of the Early Methodist Preachers Chie¯y Written by
Themselves, 3 vols. (London: John Mason, 1837±1838) vol. iii, iii.
3 Such testimonies were also in¯uenced by extracts from Bunyan's The
Pilgrim's Progress: From This World, to That Which is to Come: Delivered under
the Similitude of a Dream, 2 vols. (1678; London, 1728) which frequently
appeared in The Arminian Magazine (later named The Methodist).
4 The ®rst volume of The Arminian Magazine: Consisting of Extracts and
Original Treatises on Universal Redemption appeared in London in 1778.
5 Also included within the ®rst volume of The Arminian Magazine were:
`The Life of Arnelle Nicholas' (vol.1: 194±9); Àn Account of Mr
Alexander Mather' (vol.1: 199±207); and À Short Account of God's
Dealings with Mr John Haime' (vol.1: 207±17).
6 Richard Brantley, Wordsworth's `Natural Methodism' (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1975) 69±75.
7 Jackson, Lives of the Early Methodist Preachers, 454.
8 Emily Dickinson, `Numen Lumen', The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson,
ed. Thomas H. Johnson (London: Faber, 1975) 222, lines 1±2.
9 Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex, trans. and ed. H.M. Parshley
(London: Pan Books, 1988) 13±19, 23±4.
10 Jacques Derrida, `Speech and Phenomena' (1967), A Derrida Reader,
Between the Blinds, ed. Peggy Kamuf (Hertfordshire: Harvester Wheat-
sheaf, 1991) 6±30.
11 For a discussion of the concept of pre-Oedipal semiotic discourse see
Julia Kristeva, Desire in Language: A Semiotic Approach to Literature and Art,
ed. Leon S. Roudiez and trans. Thomas Gora, Alice Jardine and Leon
Roudiez (Oxford: Blackwell, 1980) and Toril Moi, ed. and trans., The
Kristeva Reader (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986).
12 Nigel Smith, Perfection Proclaimed: Language and Literature in English Radical
Religion, 1640±1660 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989) 24±6.
13 For this reason, prophetic or spiritual discourse was in essence most
akin to the spoken rather than the written word. It transcribed a form
of òrature' (oral literature) which succeeds in maintaining a subversive
quality of performance in that it prioritises the vitality of linguistic
energy, ¯ow and excess which de®es the boundaries of form. Ngugi Wa
Thiong'o, Decolonising the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature
(London: James Curry, 1980) 83, 94±5; Henry Louis Gates, The Signifying
Monkey: A Theory of African-American Literary Criticism (New York: Oxford
University Press 1988) xxii, 63.
14 Roland Barthes, `The Death of the Author', Image ± Music ± Text, ed.
and trans. Stephen Heath (London: Fontana, 1977) 142±8.
15 Sasson, The Shaker Spiritual Narrative, 11±16. See also Elizabeth Sampson
Ashbridge's Quaker autobiography, Some Account of the Fore-Part of the Life
of Elizabeth Ashbridge, Who Died in Truth's Service. Wrote by Herself (Nant-
wich, 1774).
16 For a further discussion see Barbara Taylor, Eve and the New Jerusalem:
Socialism and Feminism in the Nineteenth Century (1983; London: Virago,
1991); John Hopkins, A Woman To Deliver Her People: Joanna Southcott and
English Millenarianism in the Era of Revolution (Austin: University of Texas
Press, 1982).
17 Joanna Southcott, Memoirs of the Life and Mission of Joanna Southcott
Interspersed with Authentic Anecdotes, and Elusidated by Interesting Documents
Including the Progress of Her Pregnancy, Detailed by Herself (London: W. Lewis,
1814) 13.
18 Joanna Southcott, The Strange Effects of Faith; With Remarkable Prophecies,
Made in 1792, of Things Which Are To Come: Also, Some Account of My Life in
Six Parts (Exeter: T. Brice, 1801±1802); Book 1, [Part One] 25. See also
Clare Brant and Diane Purkiss, eds, Women, Texts and Histories,
1575±1760 (London: Routledge, 1992) 103±4.
19 Taylor, Eve and the New Jerusalem, 162. See also J. F C. Harrison, The
Second Coming: Popular Millenarianism, 1780±1850 (London: Routledge and
Kegan Paul, 1979).
20 Southcott, Strange Effects, Book 1, iii; my emphasis.
21 Southcott, Copies and Parts of Copies of Letters and Communications, Written
from Joanna Southcott, and Transmitted by Miss Townley to Mr. W. Sharp, in
London (London: S. Rousseau, 1804) 80±1.
22 Southcott, Strange Effects, 75; idem, A Warning to the Whole World from the
Sealed Prophecies of Joanna Southcott (London: S. Rousseau, 1804) 58.
23 Southcott, A Dispute Between the Woman and the Powers of Darkness (London:
E. Spragg, 1802); idem, The Answer of the Lord to the Powers of Darkness
(London: E. Spragg, 1802).
24 E. P. Thompson, The Making of the English Working Class (1963; London:
Victor and Gollancz, 1990) 127.
25 Richard Brothers, A Revealed Knowledge of the Prophecies and Times Wrote
under the Direction of the Lord God, and Published by His Second in Command, it
Being the First Sign of Warning for the Bene®t of All Nations Containing with
Other Great and Remarkable Things, Not Revealed to Any Other Person on Earth,
the Restoration of the Hebrews to Jerusalem, by the Year 1798, under Their
Revealed Prince and Prophet, Richard Brothers, 2 vols. (London, 1794) 54;
Preface to Book 2, iii±iv; my emphasis.
26 Brothers, A Description of Jerusalem: Its Houses and Streets, Squares, Colleges,
Markets, and Cathedrals, the Royal and Private Palaces with the Garden of Eden in
the Centre As Laid down in the Last Chapters of Ezekiel (London: George
Ribeau, 1801) 142, 139; my emphases. The source of Brother's vision of
the perfect city has traditionally been located in the prophetic writings
of the Old Testament, especially those of Revelation (21: 9±11) and
Ezekiel, in which Jerusalem is described as a city `prepared as a bride
adorned for her husband'.
27 Thompson, The Making of the English Working Class, 420±8.
28 Southcott, A Communication Given to Joanna in Answer to Mr. Brothers' Last
Book, Published the End of this Year, 1802 (London: E. Spragg, 1802) 1, 5, 7.
My emphasis on `the inward moving of My Spirit'.
29 Taylor, Eve and the New Jerusalem 162; Southcott, The Answer of the
Lord.
30 Southcott, The Life of Joanna Southcott, the Prophetess: Containing an Impartial
Account of Her Wonderful and Astonishing Writings, Her Miraculous Conception,
the Coming of Shiloh, Mr. Seddon, 9th ed. (London: John Fairburn, 1814) 13;
idem, Letters and Communications of Joanna Southcott, the Prophetess of Exeter,
Lately Written to Jane Townley, ed. Ann Underwood (Stourbridge: J.
Heming, 1804) 114.
31 Revd 12:4 and 19:7; Southcott, The Answer of the Lord, 120.
32 Southcott, A Warning to the Whole World, 1.
33 R. Hann, ed., The Trial of Joanna Southcott, During Seven Days, Which
Commenced on the Fifth and Ended on the Eleventh of December 1804 at Neckinger
House, Bermondsey, near London (London: S. Rousseau, 1804) 79. See also
Hann's critique and condemnation of the trial, Charges Against Joanna
Southcott and Her Twelve Judges, the Jury, and Four and Twenty Elders, who
Presided at Her Pretended Trial, at the Neckinger, Bermondsey, in the Year 1804
(London: R. Walker, 1804).
34 Southcott, The Life and Prophecies of Joanna Southcott, from Her Infancy to the
Present Time. With an Account of her Miraculous Conception, her Astonishing
Writings, the Coming of Shiloh, the Millennium, the Reign of Christ upon the
Earth; and the Sealing of the Faithful (London: Dean and Murray, c. 1815) 13.
35 Southcott, Strange Effects, Book 1, 77.
36 R. Hann, The Remarkable Life, Entertaining History and Surprising Adventures
of Joanna Southcott, the Prophetess, Giving an Account of the Familiar Spirit That
Attends and Directs Her; Also, an Account of the Seal, the Manner of Sealing the
People, and the Manner of Receiving Communication from the Spirit (London:
W. Smith, 1810).
37 Ibid., 2±4. Hann was also the author of A Letter to the Right Reverend the
Lord Bishop of London Concerning the Heresy and Imposture of Joanna the
Prophetess (London: J. Smith, 1810).
38 William Howard, A Letter to Joanna Southcott, the Pretended Prophetess, with a
Fac-Similie of Her Handwriting, as Connected with Her Blasphemous Seal
(London: Watts and Bridgewater, 1810) 3.
39 Joanna Southcott, The Book of Wonders, Marvellous and True, Announcing the
Coming of Shilol with a Call to the Hebrews, ed. Ann Underwood (London:
W. Marchant, 1814) Book 3, 11. See also Harrison, The Second Coming,
86±134; Morton Paley, `William Blake, the Prince of the Hebrews and
the Woman Clothed with the Sun', William Blake: Essays in Honour of
Geoffrey Keynes, ed. Morton Paley and Michael Phillips (Oxford: Clar-
endon Press, 1973) 260±93; Taylor, Eve and the New Jerusalem, 162±7.
40 Southcott, Prophecies Announcing the Birth of the Prince of Peace, Extracted from
the Works of Joanna Southcott: To Which Are Added a Few Remarks Thereon,
Made by Herself, ed. Ann Underwood (London: W. Marchant, 1814) 11,
15.
41 See Richard Reece, A Correct Statement of the Circumstances That Attended the
Last Illness and Death of Mrs. Joanna Southcott with an Account of the
Appearances Exhibited on Dissection (London: Sherwood, Neely and Jones,
1815) and idem, Life and Death of Joanna Southcott; With Particulars of Her
Will and An Account of Her Dissection (London: Sherwood, Neely and
Jones, 1814).
42 Margaret Davidson, The Extraordinary Life and Christian Experience of
Margaret Davidson, As Dictated By Herself, ed. Edward Smyth (Dublin,
1782) 1.
43 Ibid., 17.
44 Ibid., 28±9.
45 Sophia Leece, A Narrative of the Life of Miss Sophia Leece, ed. Hugh Stowell
(Liverpool: R. Trilling, 1820) 5.
46 Ibid., 15.
47 Ibid., 75.
48 John Newton, An Authentic Narrative of Some Remarkable and Interesting
Particulars in the Life of John Newton Communicated in a Series of Letters to the
Reverend Mr. Haweis, ed. Revd Haweis (London, 1764) 87.
49 Ibid., i-iii.
50 John Newton, Letters, Sermons, and a Review of Ecclesiastical History. An
Authentic Narrative of Some Particulars in the Life of ***, 3 vols. (Edinburgh,
1780).
51 Ibid., vol. ii, 137±8.
52 Newton, Authentic Narrative, 1.
53 Bunyan, Pilgrim's Progress; Newton, Authentic Narrative, 1±2.
54 Newton, Authentic Narrative, 4±5.
55 Ibid., 5.
56 Ibid., 11.
57 Ibid., 36.
58 Ibid., 16±7.
59 Ibid., 23, 26: Ì thought the author a most religious person', ibid., 25.
60 Ibid., 30.
61 Ibid., 39.
62 Ibid., 40.
63 Ibid., 42±3.
64 Ibid., 51.
65 Ibid., 53.
66 Ibid., 52.
67 Ibid., 62.
68 Ibid., 64.
69 Ibid., 67.
70 Ibid., 78.
71 John Newton, The Journal of a Slave-Trader, 1750±1754. With Newton's
Thoughts upon the African Slave Trade, ed. Bernard Martin and Mark
Spurrell (London: Epworth Press, 1962): `Sunday 26th May . . . In the
evening, by the favour of Providence, discovered a conspiracy among
the men slaves to rise upon us, but a few hours before it was to have
been executed', 54±5.
72 Ibid., xii; my emphases.
74 Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness and Other Tales, ed. Cedric Watts
(Oxford University Press, 1990).
76 George Vason, An Authentic Narrative of Four Years' Residence at Tongataboo,
one of the Friendly Islands, in the South Sea, by ± [George Vason] who Went
Thither in the Duff, Under Captain Wilson, in 1796 (London: Longman,
Hurst, Rees and Orme, 1810) 107±8; my emphasis.
77 Ibid., 113±114.
78 Ibid., 112.
79 Ibid., 200; my emphasis.
80 Newton, Authentic Narrative, 95.
81 Ibid., 100.
82 Ibid., 107.
83 Ibid., 126.
84 Ibid., 141, 142±3.
85 Ibid., 147.
86 Ibid., 170.
87 Ibid., 192±3, 99.
88 Newton, Thoughts upon the African Slave Trade (London, 1788) 1.
89 Ibid., 1.
90 Ibid., 4.
92 Ibid., 22.
93 Ibid., 3.
94 Theodora's father had forbidden the marriage between them on the
grounds of Cowper's ®nancial state.
95 John Morris, Versions of the Self: Studies in English Autobiography from John
Bunyan to John Mill (London: Basic Books, 1966) 154; Charles Ryskamp,
William Cowper of the Inner Temple: A Study of His Life and Works to the Year
1768 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959) 143±4.
96 For further discussion of Cowper see David Cecil, The Stricken Deer: Or
the Life of Cowper (London: Constable, 1929); Dustin Grif®n, Regaining
Paradise: Milton and the Eighteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1986); Bill Hutchings, The Poetry of William Cow-
per (London: Croom Helm, 1983); and Martin Priestman, Cowper's
Task: Structure and In¯uence (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1983).
97 See Cowper, The Task. A Poem in Six Books: To Which Are Added an Epistle
to Joseph Hill, Esq., Tirocinium, or a Review of Schools, and the History of John
Gilpin (London, 1785) Book II, lines 780±7.
98 See Grif®n, Regaining Paradise, for an excellent discussion of Cowper's
concept of a domestic Eden.
99 Cowper, `Retirement', Poetical Works, ed. H. S. Milford, 4th edn.
(London: Oxford University Press, 1967) Hymn XLVII, 463, lines
9±14.
100 Cowper, `Light Shining Out of Darkness', Poetical Works, Hymn
XXXV, 455 lines 1±2, 19±20, 23±4.
101 See Cowper to Mrs Madan 26 September 1767, The Letters and Prose
Writings of William Cowper, 1750±1781, ed. James King and Charles
Ryskamp, 5 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980) vol. i, xxii, 179±81.
102 See Cowper to Mrs Madan, 18 June 1768, Letters and Prose vol. i, 196±8.
103 Cowper, Memoirs of the Life and Writings of William Cowper, ed. Samuel
Greatheed (London: T. Williams, 1814) vi.
104 Cowper, Memoirs of the Remarkable and Interesting Parts of the Life of William
Cowper (London: Cox, 1816); idem, Memoir of the Early Life of William
Cowper Esq., Written by Himself and Never Before Published: With an Appendix
Containing Some of Cowper's Religious Letters (London: R. Edwards, 1816).
105 Cowper, Memoirs of the Remarkable Life, viii; my emphasis.
106 `Publisher's Preface' to the Memoir of the Early Life, vii, viii.
107 Cowper, Memoirs of the Remarkable Life, 12.
108 Cowper, Memoir of the Early Life, 3.
109 Ibid., 3.
110 Ibid., 58, 27.
111 Ibid., 44, 67. In a letter to Lady Hesketh, dated Huntingdon, July 4,
1765, Cowper wrote: Ì am only now a convert. You think I always
believed, and I thought so too, but you were deceived, and so was I. I
called myself a Christian, but he knows my heart, knows that I never
did a right thing, nor abstained from a wrong one, because I was so'.
112 Joseph Musser, `William Cowper's Rhetoric: The Picturesque and the
Personal', Studies in English Literature 19 (1979): 515±31.
113 Alexander Selkirk's adventures also provided the prototype of Daniel
Defoe's novel, The Life and Strange Suprizing Adventures of Mr D[aniel De
F[oe] of London, Hosier. In a Dialogue between Him, Robinson Crusoe, and His
Man, Friday (London, 1719). Alexander Selkirk, A Voyage to the South Sea,
and Round the World, Perform'd in the Years 1708, 1709 and 1711, 2 vols.
(London, 1712).
114 Cowper, `Charity', Poetical Works, 76, lines 15±16; 80, lines 200±3.
115 Cowper, `The Negro's Complaint', Poetical Works, 372, lines 33±40.
116 Cowper, `The Morning Dream', Poetical Works, 373±4, lines 37±48. See
also Ferguson, Subject to Others, 210.
117 Cowper, The Task, Book III, p. 179, line 722.
118 Ibid., Book III, 97, lines 112±16.
119 Ibid., Book III, 97, p. 166, lines 125±7. William Wordsworth, The
Prelude, 1799, 1805, 1850: Authoritative Texts, Context and Reception, Recent
Critical Essays, ed. Jonathan Wordsworth, M. H. Abrams and Stephen
Gill (New York: Norton, 1979) Book VI, 218, line 572. See also Keats'
concept of the visionary and the dreamer in `The Fall of Hyperion: A
Dream', The Poems of John Keats, ed. Jack Stillinger (London: Heine-
mann, 1978) 478±90.
120 Cowper, The Task, Book III, 103, lines 240±243; my emphasis.
121 Ibid., Book III, 99, line 149; 101, lines 222, 150±1, 156±7, 190.
122 Ibid., Book III, 101±2, lines 206±9.
123 Ibid., Book II, 48, line 60; Book II, 50, lines 99±103.
124 Ibid., Book II, 47, lines 38±42.
125 Ibid., Book I, 41, lines 770±4.
126 Ibid., Book I, 35, line 658.
127 Ibid., Book I, 35, lines 658±60.
128 Ibid., Book VI, 268, lines 719±21.
129 Ibid., Book V, 186, lines 101±4.
130 Ibid., Book V, 208±9, lines 538, 545±7.
131 Ibid., Book V, 221, lines 779±84.
132 Ibid., Book V, 227, lines 891±7; my emphasis.
133 Ibid., Book V, 226, lines 883±4.
134 Ibid., Book VI, 240, line 181.
135 Cowper, The Cast-Away: The Text of the Original Manuscript and the First
Printing of Cowper's Latin Translation, ed. Charles Ryskamp (New Jersey:
Princeton University Press, 1963) 17, lines 61±2.
136 George Anson, A Voyage Round the World in the Years 1740±1744 (London,
1748); Cowper, The Cast-Away, lines 63±6.
3 romanticism and abolitionism: mary wollstonecraft,

william blake, samuel taylor coleridge and william
wordsworth
1 For a comprehensive overview of the development of Romantic Studies
see Marilyn Butler, Romantics, Rebels and Reactionaries: English Literature and
Its Background, 1760±1830 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981);
Stephen Copley and John Whale, eds, Beyond Romanticism: New Approaches
to Texts and Contexts, 1780±1832 (London: Routledge, 1992); Paul de Man,
Blindness and Insight: Essays on the Rhetoric of Contemporary Criticism (New
York: Oxford University Press, 1971); idem, The Rhetoric of Romanticism
(New York: Columbia University Press, 1984).
2 Mary Favret and Nicola Watson, eds, At the Limits of Romanticism: Essays
in Cultural, Feminist, and Materialist Criticism (Bloomington: Indiana
3 Mary Jacobus, Romanticism, Writing and Sexual Difference: Essays on the
`Prelude' (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989) 69±97; Marjorie Levinson,
Keats' Life of Allegory: The Origins of a Style (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988);
idem, Romanticism and Feminism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1988); Ann Mellor, Romanticism and Gender (London: Routledge, 1993);
Helen Vendler, The Odes of John Keats (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
4 Favret and Mary Watson, At the Limits of Romanticism.
5 Jerome McGann, The Romantic Ideology: A Critical Investigation (Chicago:
Chicago University Press, 1983).
6 Alan Richardson and Sonia Hofkosh, eds, Romanticism, Race, and Imperial
Culture (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996) and Tim Fulford
and Peter Kitson, eds, Romanticism and Colonialism (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 1998).
7 In her study, Romanticism, Writing and Sexual Difference, Jacobus identi®ed
Wordsworth's Prelude as a site of historical repression and argued that
the invisible relationship between Wordsworth's poem, Newton's con-
version and slavery marked one of the most crucial chapters in
eighteenth-century economic history: see 69±97.
8 Lauren Henry, `Sunshine and Shady Groves: What Blake's `Little Black
Boy' Learned from African Writers', Romanticism and Colonialism, ed.
Fulford and Kitson, 67±86, 70±1.
9 Wordsworth and Coleridge, Lyrical Ballads with a Few Other Poems
(London, 1800).
10 Wordsworth, The Prelude, 1799, 1805, 1850: Authoritative Texts, Context and
Reception, Recent Critical Essays, ed. Jonathan Wordsworth, M. H. Abrams
and Stephen Gill (New York: Norton, 1979) x-xi. Likewise, William
Blake sold very little of his work and his exhibitions were ill-attended.
11 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Collected Letters of Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
ed. E. L. Griggs, 6 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1956±1971) vol. ii,
790±801.
12 M. H. Abrams, ed., Norton Anthology of English Literature, 2 vols. (London:
Norton, 1993) vol. ii, 18.
13 See Lauren Henry, `Sunshine and Shady Groves', 69.
14 Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Men, in a Letter to the
Right Honourable Edmund Burke Occasioned by His `Re¯ections of the Revolutions
in France' (London, 1790) 71.
15 Anne Mellor, Romanticism and Gender, 66±7.
16 Wollstonecraft, Rights of Men, 121±2.
Slavery, 1670±1834 (London: Routledge, 1992) 188.
18 Wollstonecraft, Rights of Men, 121±2.
19 William Godwin, An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice and Its In¯uence on
General Virtue and Happiness, 2 vols. (London, 1793).
20 Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman: With Strictures on
Political and Moral Subjects (London, 1792).
21 Ibid., x-xi.
22 Anne Mellor, Àm I Not a Woman, and a Sister?: Slavery, Romanticism,
and Gender', Romanticism, Race, and Imperial Culture, ed. Richardson and
Hofkosh, 311±329.
23 Katherine Rogers, Feminism in Eighteenth Century England (Sussex: Har-
vester Press, 1982).
24 Wollstonecraft, Rights of Woman, 73.
25 Ibid., 90.
26 Mellor, Àm I Not a Woman?', 318
27 Wollstonecraft, Rights of Woman, 92.
28 Mary Wollstonecraft, The Works of Mary Wollstonecraft, ed. Janet Todd
and Marilyn Butler, 7 vols. (London: William Pickering, 1989) vol. vi,
234.
29 Moses Roper, A Narrative of the Adventures and Escape of Moses Roper, from
American Slavery, ed. Revd T. Price (London: Darton, Harvey and
Darton, 1837); Mary Prince, The History of Mary Prince, a West Indian Slave
As Related by Herself with a Supplement by the Editor to Which is Added, the
Narrative of Asa-Asa, a Captured African, ed. T. Pringle (London: Westley
and Davis, 1831).
30 Wollstonecraft, The Works of Mary Wollstonecraft, vol. vii, 100±1.
31 Coleridge, Lectures 1795 on Politics and Religion, ed. Lewis Patton and Peter
Mann (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1971) 231±52; Òn the
Slave Trade', The Watchman, ed. Lewis Patton (London: Routledge and
Kegan Paul, 1970) 130±140. These editions of Coleridge's Lectures 1795
and The Watchman form volumes one and two of The Collected Works of
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 6 vols., ed. Kathleen Coburn (London: Routledge
and Kegan Paul, 1983).
32 Deirdre Coleman, `Conspicuous Consumption: White Abolitionism
and English Women's Protest Writing in the 1790s', English Literary
History 61 (1994): 342.
33 See Eric Williams, Capitalism and Slavery (1945; London: Andre Deutsch,
1964) 195. Coleridge's poem also referred to the slaves' epistemological
belief in the world of the spirits.
34 Coleridge, Lectures 1795, 235, n.3, 240, n.4.
35 Thomas Clarkson, An Essay on the Implicity of the African Slave Trade in Two
Parts, 2 vols. (London, 1788) 110.
36 Ferguson, Subject to Others, 127, 129. Mary Scott, The Female Advocate: A
Poem Occasioned by Reading Mr. Duncombe's Feminead (London: Joseph
Johnson, 1774); Mary Deverell, Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, Mostly
Written in the epistolary Style, 2 vols. (London, 1781).
37 Carl Bernhard Wadstrom, An Essay on Colonisation, Particularly Applied to
the Western Coast of Africa, with Some Free Thoughts on Cultivation and
Commerce (London, 1794) 3, 4.
38 Ibid., 4, 5.
39 Coleridge, Lecture on the Slave Trade, 236.
40 Ibid., 235.
41 Coleman, `Conspicuous Consumption', 344.
42 David Hartley, Observations on Man (London, 1749).
44 Ibid., 235; my emphases except the word `real'. Mark Akenside, The
Pleasures of Imagination. A Poem in Three Books, 3rd edn. (London, 1744);
The Spectator, 21 June 1712. William Hazlitt de®ned Coleridge's discourse
as the type of àngelic wings': `He was the ®rst poet I ever knew . . . His
genius at that time had angelic wings, and fed on manna. He talked on
for ever . . . And shall I, who heeded him then, listen to him now? Not
I! . . . That spell is broke; that time is gone for ever'. Hazlitt, `Lectures
on the English Poets', The Complete Works of William Hazlitt, ed. P. P.
Howe, 21 vols. (London: J. M. Dent, 1930±1934) vol. v, 167.
46 Ibid., 233.
47 Ibid., 241; my emphases.
48 I am grateful to Alan Richardson for highlighting the correspondence
between these poems.
49 Southey, `The Sailor Who Had Served in the Slave Trade', Poems, by
Robert Southey (London: Longman and Rees, 1799) 103±8, lines 101±4.
50 Southey was also the author of The Life of Wesley. See Robert Southey,
The Minor Poems of Robert Southey, 3 vols. (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees,
Orme and Brown, 1823).
51 See James Walvin, Black Ivory: A History of Black Slavery (London: Harper
Collins, 1992) 16±22; Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in
Britain (London: Pluto Press, 1984) 127±30; Potkay and Burr, eds, Black
Atlantic Writers of the Eighteenth Century: Living the New Exodus in England and
America (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1995) 165; Gilroy, Small Acts: Thoughts
on the Politics of Black Cultures (London: Serpent's Tail, 1993) 81±5.
52 See also Turner's painting `Slavers Throwing Overboard the Dead and
Dying: Typhoon Coming On' (1840).
53 William Fox, A Short Account of the African Slave Trade, and an Address to the
People of Great Britain on the Propriety of Abstaining from West Indian Sugar and
Rum (Sevenoaks, 1791). Coleridge, Lecture on the Slave Trade, 248±9.
54 Coleridge, Lecture on the Slave Trade, 251; my emphasis.
55 Coleridge, Collected Letters, vol. i, 302.
56 George Whalley, The Bristol Library Borrowings of Southey and Coleridge,
1793±1798 (London: The Bibliographical Society, 1949) 119.
57 The Gospel Magazine and Theological Review (1796) vol. 1, i; `The Memoirs
of the Life of John James Claude', The Gospel Magazine vol.1, 152±7; `The
Remarkable Passages in the Life of Mr Vavasor Powel, Minister of the
Gospel in Wales, Written by Himself ', The Gospel Magazine vol.1, 217±21;
and `The Singular Experience and Great Sufferings of Mrs Agnes', The
Gospel Magazine vol.1, 297±305.
58 Robert Woolman, A Journal of the Life, Gospel Labours, and Christian
Experience of that Faithful Minister of Jesus Christ, John Woolman, to Which Are
Added His Works (Dublin, 1776) v, 8, 15.
59 John Woolman, Some Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes (Philadelphia,
1754) included in A Journal of the Life, 251±325; 277.
60 John Woolman, Some Considerations, 305.
61 Indeed, Coleridge's later project, Biographia Literaria (1817) presented an
enigmatic form of autobiographical self-examination. See Coleridge,
Biographia Literaria: Or, Biographical Sketches of My Literary Life and Opinions,
ed. James Engell and W. Jackson Bate, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton
62 Richard Brantley, Wordsworth's `Natural Methodism' (New Haven: Yale
63 See Frank Coleridge's suicide note, 19 Dec. 1791 and Coleridge, Collected
Letters, vol. i, 63, 68.
64 Bernard Martin, The Ancient Mariner and the Authentic Narrative (London:
Heinemann, 1949) 37±8.
65 Ibid., 37.
66 For more on Coleridge's relation with the Quakers see Deirdre
Coleman, Coleridge and the Friend, 1809±1810 (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1988).
67 For further discussion of these poems see Lucy Newlyn's Coleridge,
Wordsworth and the Language of Allusion (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986);
Kathleen Wheeler, The Creative Mind in Coleridge's Poetry (London:
Heinemann, 1981) and Kelvin Everest, Coleridge's Secret Ministry: The
Context of the Conversation Poems, 1795±1798 (Hassocks: Harvester Press,
1979).
68 Coleridge, `The Eolian Harp', Poetical Works, ed. Ernest Hartley Cole-
ridge (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969) 102, lines 44±8.
69 Ibid., 101, lines 26±9.
70 Coleridge, `This Lime-Tree Bower My Prison', Poetical Works, 178±9,
lines 2±5.
71 Ibid., 180, lines 43±5.
72 Ibid., 180, lines 37±43.
73 See Newlyn, Language of Allusion, for an excellent discussion of Coler-
idge's and Wordsworth's exchange of ideas. In the intervening versions
of Coleridge's poem, the addressee underwent several gender transfor-
mations, changing from Sara, William, then Edmund, and ®nally
ending with the `Lady' of the 1817 Sybilline Leaves version.
74 Coleridge, `Letter to Sara', Collected Letters, vol. i, 790, line 23; vol. i, 790,
line 34.
75 Ibid., 791, lines 31±2, 42±3. I am grateful to Jonathan Wordsworth for
his suggestions about this poem.
76 Ibid., 791, lines 50±1; my emphasis.
77 Ibid., 791, line 73. Coleridge had in fact been born in rural Devonshire
(Ottery St Mary) but with the death of his father was sent to school at
Christ's Hospital, London.
78 Ibid., 793, lines 109±10; 792, lines 92±8.
79 Ibid., 796, lines 236±8.
80 Ibid., 796, line 242.
81 Ibid., 793, line 136.
82 Ibid., 798, lines 302±7.
83 Ibid., 797, lines 296±8.
84 Ibid., 798, lines 315±20; my emphases.
85 Rev. 21:3.
86 Coleridge, `Letter to Sara', 798, lines 317±18.
87 Song of Songs 2:16, 3:1.
88 Meyer Howard Abrams, Natural Supernaturalism: Tradition and Revolution in
Romantic Literature (London: Oxford University Press, 1971) 95±6; my
emphasis.
89 Brantley, Wordsworth's `Natural Methodism', xi.
90 William Wilberforce, A Practical View of the Prevailing Religious System of
Professed Christians Contrasted with Real Christianity (London, 1798); Words-
worth to Wilberforce, The Letters of William and Dorothy Wordsworth: The
Early Years, 1787±1805, 2nd edn., ed. Chester Shaver; gen. ed. Kathleen
Coburn, 10 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967) vol. i, 685.
91 Brantley, Wordsworth's `Natural Methodism', 15±20.
92 Dorothy Wordsworth to Jane Pollard, Letters of William and Dorothy
Wordsworth, vol. i, 28.
93 Philip Doddridge, The Family Expositor: Or, a Paraphrase and Version of the
New Testament, ed. J. Orton, 6 vols. (London, 1739±1756).
94 Brantley, Wordsworth's `Natural Methodism', 24; Doddridge, Rise and
Progress of Religion in the Soul: Illustrated in a Course of Serious and Practical
Addresses (London, 1745); Francis Wrangham, Thirteen Practical Sermons:
Founded upon Doddridge's `Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul' (London:
J. Mawman, 1800) 23, 26, 59: `You must be fully aware of your guilt
. . . It is no small matter to have transgressed the laws of your Maker . . .
To you is the word of salvation sent'.
95 Dorothy Wordsworth to Jane Pollard (26 Jun. 1791), Letters of William
and Dorothy Wordsworth vol.i, 54.
96 Dorothy Wordsworth to Jane Pollard (8 May 1792), ibid., vol. i, 75.
Dundas had strongly opposed Wilberforce's ®rst Abolition Bill, 18 Apr.
1791.
97 Martin, The Ancient Mariner, 38; Newton Authentic Narrative, 82.
98 Cf. Brantley, Wordsworth's `Natural Methodism', 37±8; Jacobus, Romanti-
cism, Writing, and Sexual Difference, 79±82; Duncan Wu, Wordsworth's
Reading, 1770±1799 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993).
99 Wordsworth, `MS JJ, October 1798', The Prelude: 1799, 1805, 1850, 487,
lines 1±3, 5±6. All subsequent references will be from this edition.
100 Wordsworth, `Prelude of 1805', 28, Book 1, lines 6±10, 16±19; my
emphases.
101 Ibid., 30, Book 1, lines 41±4.
102 Ibid., 32, Book 1, lines 59±63.
103 Ibid., 92, Book 3, line 28±9.
104 Ibid., 233, Book 7, line 157; 262, Book 7, 661±2; 406, Book 10, line 878.
See Jonathan Wordsworth, `Versions of the Fall', William Wordsworth:
The Borders of Vision (1982; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984) 231±78.
105 Wordsworth, `Prelude of 1805', 306, Book 8, lines 763±4.
106 Ibid., 460±2, Book 13, lines 39±43, 68±73.
107 See William Hazlitt, Complete Works, vol. v, 156, 163: `Mr. Wordsworth
is the most original poet now living . . . His powers have been mistaken
by the age, nor does he understand them himself . . . He tolerates only
what he himself creates . . . He see nothing but himself and the
universe'.
109 Ibid., 218, Book 6, lines 567±72.
110 Wordsworth, `To Toussaint L'Ouverture', Poetical Works, ed. Ernest de
Selincourt (Oxford University Press, 1969) 242±3. Although it ®rst
appeared in the Morning Post, 2 Feb. 1803, the poem was probably
written between 1 and 29 Aug. 1801.
111 Robin Blackburn, The Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, 1776±1848 (London:
Verso, 1990) 163, 218, 240. For a more detailed account of the slave
insurrection see C. L. R. James, The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L'Ouverture
and the San Domingo Revolution (1938; London: Allison and Busby, 1980).
112 Marcus Rainsford, An Historical Account of the Black Empire of Hayti:
Comprehending a View of the Principal Transactions in the Revolution in Saint
Domingo; With its Antient and Modern State (London: James Cundee, 1805)
323±4; my emphases.
113 Joseph Addison, The Spectator, ed. Donald Bond, 5 vols. (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1965) vol. iii, 537.
114 Wordsworth, `The Prelude of 1805', 370, Book 10, line 217; 368, Book
10, lines 205±6.
115 Blackburn, Overthrow of Colonial Slavery, 144±6.
116 Wordsworth, `The Prelude of 1805', 370, Book 10, lines 221±226.
117 Cited in Blackburn 252. See also James Stephen, Crisis of the Sugar
Colonies: Or, an Enquiry into the Objects and Probable Effects of the French
Expedition to the West Indies and their Connection with the Colonial Interests of
the British Empire to Which Are Subjoined, Sketches of a Plan for the Settling of
the Vacant Lands of Trinidad (London: L. J. Hatchard, 1802) 195±7; The
Opportunity: Or, Reasons for an Immediate Alliance with San Domingo
(London: C. Whittingham, 1804) 47.
118 Jacobus, Romanticism, Writing and Sexual Difference, 72, 74.
119 Dorothy Wordsworth to Jane Pollard, 27 Jan.1789: `My Brother John
has set sail for Barbados. I hope, poor Lad! that he will be successful
and happy, he is much delighted with the profession he has chosen.
How we are squandered abroad!', The Letters of William and Dorothy
Wordsworth, vol. i, 16, 21.
120 Dorothy Wordsworth to Jane Pollard (25±6 Jan. 1790), The Letters of
William and Dorothy Wordsworth, vol. i, 25.
121 Stephen Gill, William Wordsworth: A Life (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1989) 92.
122 Frank Prentice Rand, Wordsworth's Mariner Brother (Amherst, Mass.:
Newell Press, 1966) 13±14.
124 Clarkson, The History of the Rise, Progress and Accomplishment of the Abolition
of the African Slave Trade by the British Parliament, 2 vols. (London:
Longman, Reas and Orine, 1808).
125 Wordsworth, `To Thomas Clarkson, on the Final Passing of the Bill for
the Abolition of the Slave Trade, March 1807', Poetical Works, 248.
126 Wordsworth, `To Thomas Clarkson', 248, line 1.
127 Forlarin Shyllon, Black People in Britain, 1555±1833 (London: Oxford
University Press, 1977) 70±1.
128 William Blake, The Complete Poetry and Prose of William Blake, ed. David
Erdman (New York: Doubleday, 1988) 665. In his annotations to
Wordsworth's Poems of 1815, Blake commented: Ì see in Wordsworth
the Natural Man rising up against the Spiritual Man Continually and
then he is No Poet but a Heathen Philosopher at Enmity against all
true Poetry or Inspiration'.
129 Wordsworth, The Letters of William and Dorothy Wordsworth, vol. v, 605±6.
130 Ibid., vol. iv, 108±9. See also Norman Lewis Shelley, The Abolitionist
Movement in Shef®eld (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1934)
15±17.
131 See Anne Mellor, `Sex, Violence and Slavery: Blake and Wollstone-
craft', Huntington Library Quarterly 58: 345±360.
132 Ottobah Cugoano, Thoughts and Sentiments on the Evil and Wicked Traf®c of
the Slavery and Commerce of the Human Species, Humbly Submitted to the
Inhabitants of Great Britain, by Ottobah Cugoano, a Native of Africa (London,
1787).
133 Lauren Henry, `Sunshine and Shady Groves', 83; Paul Edwards,
Unreconciled Strivings and Ironic Strategies: Three Afro-British Authors of the
Georgian Era: Ignatius Sancho, Olaudah Equiano, Robert Wedderburn (Edin-
burgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1992) 181.
134 Blake to William Hayley, 6 May 1800, The Complete Poetry, 705.
135 Mona Wilson, The Life of William Blake (Hertfordshire: Grenada, 1971)
56±8.
136 Emanuel Swedenborg, New Jerusalem Tracts tract 4, 1 in The True
Christian Religion, 2 vols..
137 Idem, The True Christian Religion, Containing the Universal Theology of the New
Church, Foretold by the Lord (New York, 1912) 146.
138 Blake, Ànnotations to Swedenborg's Divine Love and Divine Wisdom'
(London, 1788) The Complete Poetry, 603. Blake's annotations are in
italics.
139 Blake to Mr. Butts, 25 April 1803, ibid., 728.
140 Blake to Hayley, 11 December 1805, ibid., 767.
141 Ibid., 3; Blake, `There is No Natural Religion', ibid., 3.
142 Blake, Àll Religions are One', ibid., 1.
143 Blake, Plate 4, `The Marriage of Heaven and Hell', ibid., 34.
144 Blake, Plate 3, ibid., 34±6.
145 Victor Paananen, William Blake (Boston, Mass.: Twayne, 1977), 50.
146 Blake, Plate 11, ibid., 38.
147 Ibid., 39.
148 Blake, `Jerusalem', 146; Paananen, Blake, 141.
149 Bernard Nes®eld-Cookson, William Blake: Prophet of Universal Brotherhood
(England: Crucible, 1987) 342.
150 Blake, `Jerusalem', The Complete Poetry, 212.
151 Ibid., 231.
152 Ibid., 201.
153 Ibid., 201.
154 Blake, `Jerusalem', Plate 97, lines 1±4, ibid., 256±8.
155 Blake, `The Little Black Boy', ibid., 9. Mellor, Romanticism and Feminism,
94.
156 Mellor, `Sex, Violence, and Slavery: Blake and Wollstonecraft',
345±62; 360.
157 Richard and Sally Price, Ìntroduction', Stedman's Narrative, xii. See also
Hugh Honour, Representations of Black People in Western Art (Cambridge
Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1989).
158 Joan Baum, Mind-Forg'd Manacles: Slavery and the English Romantic Poets
(New Haven, Connecticut: Archun, 1994) n.35, 187.
159 Mellor argues that Blake's visual assimilation of the black female body
to the classical western white body is either an attempt to `humanise'
the African or a re¯ection of his neoclassical artistic training. Mellor,
`Sex, Violence, and Slavery: Blake and Wollstonecraft', 358.
160 Blake, Visions of the Daughters of Albion, lines 21±2 The Complete Poetry, 46.
161 David Erdman, Blake: Prophet Against Empire: A Poet's Interpretation of the
History of His Own Times (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1977)
228±30.
162 Blake, Visions of the Daughters of Albion, lines 8±12, The Complete Poetry, 46.
163 Ibid., Plate 7, lines 3±7, 50.
164 Joan Baum, Mind-Forg'd Manacles, 14.
165 Ibid., 228±30.
4 cross-cultural contact: john stedman, thomas

jefferson and the slaves
1 John Gabriel Stedman, Narrative, of a Five Years' Expedition, Against the
Revolted Negroes of Surinam, in Guiana, on the Wild Coast of South America;
From the Year 1772, to 1777, 2 vols. (London, 1796); Stedman, Narrative of
a Five Years Expedition, Against the Revolted Negroes of Surinam Transcribed for
the First Time from the Original 1790 Manuscript, ed. Richard Price and
Sally Price (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1988). I shall
refer to this edition throughout unless otherwise speci®ed. See also
Geoffrey Keynes, Blake Studies: Essays on His Life and His Work (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1971) 98±105. For more details on the Dutch colony
of Surinam see Waldo Heilbron, Colonial Transformations and the Decom-
position of Dutch Plantation Slavery in Surinam (London: Goldsmiths
College, 1993).
2 Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation
(London: Routledge, 1992) 91±2.
3 See Richard Price's excellent introduction to the Narrative, xiii-xcvii, xvi,
xxx.
4 As Erdman notes, we know that Blake was working on these plates
during the production of the `Visions of the Daughters of Albion'
because he submitted them in batches dated 1 Dec. 1792 and 2 Dec.
1793. David Erdman, Blake: Prophet Against Empire: A Poet's Interpretation of
the History of His Own Times (New Jersey: Princeton University Press,
1977).
5 Stedman, Narrative, Introduction, xxxvii, xlviii, xlix.
6 Ibid., xxxii.
7 Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes, 90±102, 91.
8 Stedman, Narrative (1988), 7.
9 Ibid., 7.
10 Ibid., 173, 27±9.
11 Ibid., 199; Stedman, Narrative (1796), vol. ii, 259±60.
12 Stedman, Narrative (1988), 171; my emphasis.
13 Ibid., 171.
14 Ibid., 168.
16 Ibid., 521.
17 Ibid., 171.
18 Stedman, Narrative (1796), vol. i, v; cited in Narrative (1988), lxiv.
19 Stedman, Narrative (1988), 90, 260.
20 Ibid., 43.
21 See Abena Busia, `Miscegenation as Metonymy: Sexuality and Power in
the Colonial Novel', Ethnic and Racial Studies 9 (1986): 360±72.
23 Guillaume Thomas Raynal, A Philosophical and Political History of the
Settlements and Trade of the Europeans in the East and West Indies, trans.
J. Justamond, 5 vols. (London, 1776) vol. iii, 164.
24 Pratt, Imperial Eyes, 95±7.
26 Ibid., 87±8; my emphasis.
27 Ibid., 90, 98±100, 260.
Here in close recess,
With ¯owry Garlands and sweet Smelling herbs,
Espoused Eve did deck her ruptial [nuptial] bed,
And heavenly Quires the hymeneal Sing;
What Day the genial Angel to her friend
Brought her in naked Beauty more adorn'd,
More lovely than Pandora, whom the Gods
Endow'd with all their Gifts.
John Milton, Poetical Works, Paradise Lost: A Poem Written in Ten Books
(London, 1667) Book 4, lines 708±15.
28 Pratt, Imperial Eyes, 97. See also Peter Hulme, Colonial Encounters: Europe
and the Native Caribbean, 1492±1797 (1986; London: Routledge, 1992).
30 Stephen Houlgate, Freedom, Truth and History: An Introduction to Hegel's
Philosophy (London: Routledge, 1991) 19.
31 George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, `The Natural Context or the Geo-
graphical Basis of World History', Lectures on the Philosophy of World
History, trans. H.B. Nisbet, ed. Duncan Forbes (Cambridge: Cambridge
32 Houlgate, Freedom, Truth and History, 20.
33 Hegel, Lectures, 183±4.
34 William Bosman, A New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea,
Divided into the Gold, the Slave, and the Ivory Coasts . . . (London, 1705) 146.
35 William Snelgrave, A New Account of Guinea, and the Slave Trade (London,
1734) 10.
36 Atkins, A Voyage to Guinea, Brasil, and the West Indies; in His Majesty's Ships,
the Swallow and Weymouth . . . (London, 1735) 113±14.
37 Hegel, Lectures, 173±4.
38 Ibid., 176±7.
39 George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit, trans. A.V.
Miller, ed. J. N. Findlay (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977) 297.
40 Hegel, Lectures, 178±9; my emphases.
41 Ibid., 181, 180.
42 Ibid., 180±1; my emphases.
43 See Andrew Bowie, Aesthetics and Subjectivity, from Kant to Nietzsche
(Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1990) for a discussion of the
Romantic critique of Hegel.
44 Johann Joachim Winckelman, The History of Ancient Art, trans. G. Henry
Lodge, 2 vols. (Boston: Little Brown and Co., 1856) vol. ii, 4.
45 Ibid., vol. i, 191±2.
46 Ibid., vol. i, 199.
47 This was a point vehemently contended by Puritan advocates of slave
conversion such as Cotton Mather and de®ed by the ®rst baptism of a
slave in New England in 1641. For further discussion, see Lorenzo
Greene, The Negro in Colonial New England, 1620±1770 (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1945) 257.
48 David Hume, Òf National Characters' (1753), The Philosophical Works of
David Hume, 4 vols. (Edinburgh: Adam Black and William Tait, 1826)
vol. iii, 236 (note c) .
49 David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature: Being an Attempt to Introduce the
Experimental Method of Reasoning into Moral Subjects, 3 vols. (London, 1739)
vol. iii, 61, 50.
50 Philip Curtin, Two Jamaicas: The Role of Ideas in a Tropical Colony,
1830±1865 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1955) 123; K.
G. Davies, The Royal African Company (London: Longman, 1957).
51 See Alissandra Cummins, `Caribbean Slave Society', Transatlantic
Slavery: Against Human Dignity, ed. A. J. Tibbles (Liverpool: National
Museums and Galleries on Merseyside, 1994) 51±9, 51.
52 Elsa Goveia, Slave Society in the British Leeward Islands at the End of the
Eighteenth Century (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1965) 152±8.
53 Acts of the Assembly, Passed in the Island of Jamaica; from 1681, to 1754 Inclusive
(London, 1754) 64, Act 38.
54 Ibid., 181, Act 98, Clause 10; my emphasis.
55 Cummins, `Carribean Slave Society', 55. Detailed Leeward Islands,
MSS Laws, 1644±1673: C.O. 154 / 1 / 49±51.
56 Acts of the Assembly. Passed in the Island of Jamaica; from 1770, to 1783, Inclusive
(London, 1783), 20.
57 B. W. Higman, Slave Population and Economy in Jamaica, 1807±1834 (King-
ston: The University of the West Indies Press, 1995) 141.
58 Edward Brathwaite and Edward Kamau, The Development of Creole Society
in Jamaica, 1770±1820 (1971; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1978) 160.
59 Edward Long, The History of Jamaica: Or, a General Survey of the Antient and
Modern State of That Island; with Re¯ections on its Situation, Settlements,
Inhabitants, Climate, Products, Commerce, Laws and Government, 3 vols.
(London, 1774) vol. ii, 353, vol. ii, 356, 353; my emphases.
60 Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, Òn the Natural Variety of Mankind'
[`De Generis Humani Varietate Natura'], The Anthropological Treatises of
Johann Friedrich Blumenbach. With Memoirs of Him by Marx and Flourens, and
an Account of His Anthropological Museum by Professor R. Wagner, and the
Inaugural Dissertation of John Hunter on the Varieties of Man, ed. and trans.
Thomas Bendyshe (London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts and
Green, 1865) 65±144, 98±9; Robert Young, Colonial Desire: Hybridity in
Theory, Culture and Race (London: Routledge, 1995) 64.
61 Blumenbach, `Contributions to Natural History', Anthropological Treatises,
277±325, 305±12, 307.
62 Nancy Stepan, `Biological Degeneration: Races and Proper Places',
Degeneration: The Dark Side of Progress, ed. Edward Chamberlain and
Sander Gilman (New York: Columbia University Press, 1985) 105. In
the third edition of Òn the Natural Variety of Mankind' (1795)
Blumenbach also discussed the size of the African penis; Anthropological
Treatises, 145±276, 249.
63 Wordsworth, The Prelude, 1799, 1805, 1850: Authoritative Texts, Context and
Reception, Recent Critical Essays, ed. Jonathan Wordsworth, M. H. Abrams
and Stephen Gill (New York: Norton, 1979) Book 7, 235±43.
64 Blumenbach, Òn the Natural Variety of Mankind', 107.
65 Raynal, A Philosophical and Political History, vol. iii, 490.
66 Blumenbach, Òn the Natural Variety of Mankind', 111±12.
67 Long, Candid Re¯ections; The Morning Post, 22 Dec. 1786, cited File 27.
68 Blumenbach, Òn the Natural Variety of Mankind' (1795), 47, 188±263.
69 For an excellent discussion of degeneration, see Chamberlain and
Gilman, Degeneration, 97±121.
70 Georges Leopold Cuvier, The Animal Kingdom Arranged in Conformity with
Its Organisation: With Additional Descriptions of All the Species Hitherto Named,
and of Many Not Before Noticed, ed. Edward Grif®th, 2 vols. (London:
George Whittaker, 1827) 165±6.
71 Ibid., 171.
72 Greene, Negro in Colonial New England, 207±8.
73 James Walvin, Black Ivory: A History of British Slavery (London: Harper
Collins, 1992) 225. It was this intermediary group which instigated
many of the most destructive of slave revolts.
74 James Cowles Prichard, Researches into the Physical History of Man, ed.
George W. Stocking (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1973) 10,
11±13.
75 Ibid., 9±10.
76 William Lawrence, Lectures on Physiology, Zoology, and the Natural History of
Man Delivered to the Royal College of Surgeons (London: J. Callow, 1819) 296,
300.
77 Joseph Arthur de Gobineau, The Inequality of Human Races, trans. Adrian
Collins (Los Angeles: Noontide Press, 1966) 25; Young, Colonial Desire,
102.
78 Gobineau, The Inequality of Human Races, 25; cf. Michael D. Biddiss,
Father of Racist Ideology: The Social and Political Thought of Count Gobineau
(London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1970) 109; Eugene Talbot, Degen-
eracy: Its Causes, Signs and Results (London: Walter Scott, 1898) 99.
79 Talbot 101±3.
80 Gobineau, The Inequality of Human Races, 204.
81 Biddiss, Father of Racist Ideology, 116.
82 Gobineau, The Inequality of Human Races, 210±1.
83 Percy Bysshe Shelley's poetical search for òrigins' in Alastor, or the Spirit
of Solitude (1815) appears to be informed by the pervasive theories of
racial origins prevalent in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth
century. On the other hand, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein; Or, the Modern
Prometheus, 3 vols. (London: Lackington, Hughes, Harding, Mavor and
Jones, 1818) presents an investigation of the interrelationship between
western aesthetics, racial difference and the ostracised (or `mutant')
entity's efforts to `master' language. Likewise, Bertha Mason in Char-
lotte Bronte's Jane Eyre (1847) presents the threat posed by the white
`Creole' (a ®gure who darkens as the novel progresses) who threatens
the domestic tranquillity of Thorn®eld. See Firdous Azim, The Colonial
Rise of the Novel (London: Routledge, 1993) 182.
84 Josiah Quincey, `Journal of Josiah Quincey Junior, 1773', Proceedings from
the Massachusetts Historical Society, June 1916 49 (1916): 424±81, cited in
Hazel Carby, Reconstructing Womanhood: The Emergence of the Afro-American
Woman Novelist (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987) 30. See also
William and Ellen Craft, Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom, Or, the
Escape of William and Ellen Craft from Slavery (London: William Tweedie,
1860) and Nella Larsen, Quicksand and Passing (New York: Negro
University Press, 1928) for examples of a nineteenth-century auto-
biographical account of the consequences of racial intermixture and a
®ctionalised twentieth-century account.
85 Stepan, `Biological Degeneration', 99. Less than a century later, the
ruthless cleansing process of Nazi Germany witnessed the effective
translation of eighteenth-century racialised semantics into anti-
semitism.
86 Henry Louis Gates, The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of African-American
Literary Criticism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988) 129.
87 William Shakespeare, The Tempest, ed. J. R. Sutherland (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1978) Act III, Scene II, 89±92. See also Stephen
Greenblatt, Learning to Curse: Essays in Early Modern Culture (London:
Routledge, 1990); Peter Hulme, `Hurricanes in the Caribbees: The
Constitution of the Discourse of English Colonialism', 1642: Literature
and Power in the Seventeenth Century. Proceedings from the Essex Conference on the
Sociology of Literature, July 1980, ed. Francis Barker et al. (Colchester:
University of Essex, 1981) 55±83.
88 From the American Slave Code cited in Henry Louis Gates, Figures in Black.
Words, Signs and the `Racial' Self (New York: Oxford University Press,
1989) 17.
89 Gates, Signifying Monkey, 131.
90 Moses Roper, A Narrative of the Adventures and Escape of Moses Roper, from
American Slavery, ed. Revd T. Price (London: Darton, Harvey and
Darton, 1837) 82.
91 Pete Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (London:
Pluto Press, 1984) 137±8; Thomas Herbert, Some Yeares Travels into Divers
Parts of Asia and Afrique. Describing Especially the Two Famous Empires, the
Persian, and Great Mogull with the History of These Later Times (1638;
London, 1677) 18.
92 Herbert, Some Yeares Travels, 17.
93 Zora Neale Hurston's play, `The First One: A Play', Ebony and Topaz, ed.
Charles Johnson (New York: National Urban League, 1926) illustrates
the folkloric process by which the Judeo-Christian tradition was Afro-
Americanised.
94 See Mary Turner, Slaves and Missionaries: The Disintegration of Jamaican
Slave Society, 1787±1834 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1982) 51±9,
65±95 for a discussion of the development of African polytheistic beliefs
in Jamaica.
95 William Bosman, A New and Accurate Description of the Coast of Guinea,
146±7. See also William Pierson, Black Yankees: The Development of an Afro-
American Subculture in Eighteenth-Century New England (Amhurst, Mass.:
Massachusetts University Press, 1988) 10.
96 See Eric Williams, Capitalism and Slavery (1945; London: Andre Deutsch,
1964) 126±53.
97 Thomas Paine, Common Sense: Addressed to the Inhabitants of America
(Edinburgh, 1776) 22.
98 Eric Foner, Thomas Paine and Revolutionary America (New York: Oxford
99 See Stephen Fender's excellent discussion of these key American texts,
American Literature in Context I: 1630±1830 (London: Methuen, 1983)
63±97, 110, 101; Thomas Jefferson, À Declaration by the Representa-
tives of the United States of America, in General Congress Assembled',
Writings, ed. Merrill Peterson (New York: Literary Classics, 1984) 19;
my emphases.
100 See Robert Sayer and James Cox, Àutobiography and the Making of
America', `Recovering Literature's Lost Ground', Autobiography: Essays
Theoretical and Critical, ed. James Olney (Princeton: Princeton Univer-
sity Press, 1980).
101 Jefferson, `To Samuel Kercheval', 19 Jan. 1810, Writings, 1214.
102 Ibid., 264±6; my emphasis. Following the twelve-year period
(1865±1877) of reunion, reconstruction and racial readjustment
which followed the American Civil War of 1861±1865 (and which
established both the Thirteenth Amendment to the Constitution and
the `forty acres and a mule' motto of land distribution), biracial
democracy was abandoned and economic and domestic apartheid
legalised by the Supreme Court's overturning of the Civil Rights Act
of 1875. This was further endorsed by the Plessy vs. Ferguson decision
of 1896. For an excellent discussion of the ®rst and second Recon-
struction in America, see Manning Marable, Race, Reform and
Rebellion: The Second Reconstruction in Black America, 1945±1982 (London:
Macmillan, 1984).
103 Jefferson, `To Henri Gregoire', 25 Feb. 1809, Writings, 1202.
104 Thomas Paine, Rights of Man: Being an Answer to Mr Burke's Attack on the
French Revolution (London, 1791) 9±10; my emphasis, except for the
word `living'. Eleven months later in Part Two of the Rights of Man,
Paine's defence of the French Revolution developed into a systematic
theory of government and society which contained an economic
programme designed to alleviate the plight of the European masses by
means of a progressive tax on landed property.
5 the diasporic identity: language and the paradigms

of liberation
1 Toni Morrison, Beloved (1987; London: Chatto and Windus, 1988)
210±13.
2 Hortense Spillers, `Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe: An American
Grammar Book', Diacritics 17 (1987): 67, 72, 73.
3 See Stuart Hall, `Cultural Identity and Diaspora', Identity: Community,
Culture, Difference, ed. Jonathan Rutherford (London: Lawrence and
Wishart, 1990) 222±37. See also Pierre Macherey, A Theory of Literary
Production, trans. G. Wall (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1978)
82±93, for Macherey's concept of what is unspoken and repressed in a
text.
4 James Olney, ` `Ì Was Born'': Slave Narratives, Their Status As Auto-
biography and Literature', The Slave's Narrative, ed. Charles T. Davis and
Henry Louis Gates (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985) 151. Accord-
ing to W. J. T. Mitchell, the slave narratives enabled an èkphrasis of the
self ', a conscious re-memory of slave times written from the standpoint of
freedom. W. J. T. Mitchell, Picture Theory: Essays on Verbal and Visual
Representation (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994) 184, 190.
5 Spillers, `Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe', 67.
6 Ibid., 67, 73. The Moynihan Report (The United States Department of
Labour, 1965) claimed that the matriarchal structure of the black
American family retarded `the progress of the group as a whole'.
7 My use of the term `mulatto' is therefore, not intended pejoratively, but
as a positive reclamation of that term used to designate a person of
mixed racial parentage.
8 Toni Morrison, Playing in the Dark: Whiteness and the Literary Imagination
(London: Picador, 1992) 70.
9 Kobena Mercer, `Diaspora Culture and the Dialogic Imagination: The
Aesthetics of Black Independent Film in Britain', Blackframes: Critical
Perspectives on Black Independent Cinema, ed. Mbye B. Cham and Claire
Andrade-Watkins (Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press, 1988) 57. Cited in
Stuart Hall, `Cultural Identity', 236.
10 John Agard, `Listen Mr Oxford Don', Mangoes and Bullets (London:
Pluto, 1985).
11 Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937; London:
Virago, 1990).
12 Henry Louis Gates, Signifying Monkey: A Theory of African-American Literary
Criticism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988) xix-xxviii.
13 William Andrews, To Tell A Free Story: The First Century of Afro-American
Autobiography, 1760±1865 (Urbana: Illinois University Press, 1986) 7.
14 Houston Baker, Blues, Ideology and Afro-American Literature: A Vernacular
Theory (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1984) 17±19, 92±3.
15 I am referring to `hoodoo' and the `vodun' rituals of the Yoruba people
which I shall discuss below. See Zora Neale Hurston, Tell My Horse:
Voodoo and Life in Haiti and Jamaica, ed. Ishmael Reed (New York: Harper
and Row, 1990); and Michel Laguerre, Voodoo Heritage (Beverley Hills:
Sage Publications, 1980).
16 I am expanding and revising William Edward Dubois' notion of `two-
ness' in his essay Òf Our Spiritual Strivings' (1903), The Souls of Black
Folk, ed. Cadance Ward (New York: Dover Publications, 1994).
17 David Sutcliffe, British Black English (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1982) 8±13.
18 Robert Anderson Hall, Pidgin and Creole Languages (Ithaca: Cornell
University Press, 1966) 126; cited in Suzanne Romaine, Pidgin and Creole
Languages (London: Longman, 1988) 115.
19 Gwendolyn Midlo Hall, Africans in Colonial Louisiana: The Development of
Afro-Creole Culture in the Eighteenth Century (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State
20 Edward Kamau Brathwaite, The Development of Creole Society in Jamaica,
1770±1820 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971).
21 Ibid., 309±11.
22 Mole® Kete Asante, Àfrican Elements in African-American English',
Africanisms in American Culture, ed. Joseph Holloway (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 1990) 22. See also Mervyn Alleyne, The Roots of
Jamaican Culture (London: Pluto Press, 1988).
23 Asante, Àfrican Elements', 27, 17. See also I® Amadiume, Male Daugh-
ters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in African Society (1987; London: Zed
Books, 1992) 89±91.
24 Eugene Genovese, Roll, Jordan Roll: The World the Slaves Made (1974; New
York: Vintage Books, 1976) 421.
25 John Reinecke, `Trade Jargons and Creole Dialects as Marginal Lan-
guages', Language in Culture and Society, ed. C. Dell Hymes (New York:
Harper and Row, 1964) 534±46.
26 Zora Neale Hurston, Mules and Men, ed. Franz Boas and Arnold
Rampersad (1935; New York: Harper Perennial, 1990) 74±5; my em-
phasis. See also Karla Holloway, The Character of the Word: The Texts of
Zora Neale Hurston (Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1987) 78.
27 See Maria Leach and Jerome Fried, eds, Funk and Wagnalls Standard
Dictionary of Folklore, Mythology and Legend (London: New English
Library, 1975) 18±24 and Sidney Mintz and Richard Price, An Anthro-
pological Approach to the Afro-American Past: A Caribbean Perspective (Philadel-
phia: Institute for the Study of Human Studies, 1976).
6 the early slave narratives: jupiter hammon, john

marrant and ottobah gronniasaw
1 See Lawrence Levine, `Slave Songs and Slave Consciousness: An
Exploration in Neglected Sources', Anonymous Americans, ed. Tamara K.
Haveran (New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1971) 107; Sterling Brown, `Spiri-
tuals', The Book of Negro Folklore, ed. L. H. and Arna Bontemps (New
York: Dodd and Mead, 1958) 279±89; Robert Hemenway, Zora Neale
Hurston: A Literary Biography (1977; London: Camden Press, 1986) 258±9.
2 Cf. Johannes Nederven Pieterse, `Slavery and the Triangle of Emanci-
pation', Race and Class 30 (1988): 1±22.
3 Zora Neale Hurston, `Spirituals and Neo-Spirituals', The Negro Anthology,
ed. Nancy Cunard (London: Nancy Cunard, 1934).
4 Zora Neale Hurston, Tell My Horse: Voodoo and Life in Haiti and Jamaica
(1938; New York: Harper Perennial, 1990); idem, Moses, Man of the
Mountain (1939; New Jersey: Chatham, 1974).
5 Houston Baker, Long Black Song (Chicago: Chicago University Press,
1990) 12, 31±3; W. F. Allen, Slave Songs of the United States (New York:
Dover, 1867); Brown, `Spirituals', 279±84; James Weldon Johnson, ed.,
A Book of American Negro Spirituals (London: Chapman and Hall, 1926).
6 Richard Sheridan, Doctors and Slaves: A Medical and Demographic History of
Slavery in the British West Indies, 1680±1834 (Cambridge: Cambridge
7 Orlando Patterson, The Sociology of Slavery: An Analysis of the Origins,
Development and Structure of Negro Slave Society in Jamaica (London: Mac-
Gibbon and Kee, 1967) 182±5.
8 Thomas Coke, A History of the West Indies, Continuing the Natural, Civil and
Ecclesiastical History of Each Island: with an Account of the Missions Instituted in
those Islands, from the Commencement of their Civilisation, 3 vols. (Liverpool:
Nuttall, Fisher and Dixon, 1808±1811) vol. i, 112±13.
9 John Samuel Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy (1969; London:
Heinemann, 1990) 2.
10 Ibid., 26±7.
11 Harry Gilford, Voodoo: Its Origins and Practices (London: Franklin Watts,
1976) 9.
12 Thomas Winterbottom, An Account of the Native Africans in the Neighbourhood
of Sierra Leone; To Which is Added, an Account of the Present State of Medicine
Among Them, 2 vols. (London: C. Whittingham, 1803) vol. ii, 10.
13 Myal: cf., Hausa maye,1. Sorcerer, wizard; 2.Intoxication; Return, Dic-
tionary of Jamaican English; Obi cf. E®k, ubio, à thing or mixture of things,
put into the ground, as a charm to cause sickness or death', OED.
14 Carolyn Cooper, `Something Ancestral Recaptured', Motherlands: Black
Women's Writing from Africa, the Caribbean and South Asia, ed. Sushiela
Nasta (London: The Women's Press, 1991) 64±87. See also Toni
Morrison, Song of Solomon (London: Picador, 1978).
15 William Pierterse, `White Cannibals, Black Martyrs: Fear, Depression
and Religious Faith As Causes of Suicide among New Slaves', Slave
Trade and Migration: Domestic and Foreign, ed. Paul Finkelman (London:
Garland Publications, 1989) 323±35; 148±53.
16 Gilford, Voodoo, 30.
17 David Geggus, Slave Resistance Studies and the Saint Domingo Slave Revolt:
Some Considerations (Miami: Florida International University, 1983) 18.
18 The Report of the Lords of the Committee of the Council Appointed for the
Consideration of all Matters to Trade and Foreign Plantation (London, 1789);
Joseph Williams, Voodoos and Obeahs: Phases of West India Witchcraft
(London: George Allen and Unwin, 1933) 111.
19 Williams, Voodoo, 114.
20 Acts of the Privy Council, vol. ii, 834 cited in Williams, Voodoo, 161.
21 Acts of Assembly (Kingston, 1786) 277; cited in Williams, Voodoo, 163±4.
22 R. R. Madden, A Twelvemonths Residence in the West Indies, During the
Transition from Slavery to Apprenticeship, 2 vols. (London: James Cochrane,
1835); Williams, Voodoo, 190.
23 See Harry Hyatt, Hoodoo, Conjuration, Witchcraft and Rootwork Beliefs
Accepted by Many Negroes and White Persons, These Being Orally Recorded
Among Blacks and Whites, 5 vols. (Cambridge, Md.: Western Pub., 1978).
24 Alan Richardson, `Romantic Voodoo: Obeah and British Culture,
1797±1807', Studies in Romanticism vol. 32:1 (1993):3±28.
25 Obi; or, Three Finger'd Jack: A Melo-Drama, in Two Acts (London: Thomas
Hailes Lacy, n.d. [1800]); Charlotte Smith, `The Story of Henrietta',
Letters of a Solitary Wanderer: Containing Narratives of Various Descriptions, 2
vols. (London: Sampson Low, 1800); Maria Edgeworth, `Belinda',
Popular Tales, 3 vols. (1790; repr. London: J. Johnson, 1804); William
Shepherd, `The Negro's Incantation', The Monthly Magazine July 1797
and The Poetical Register and Repository of Fugitive Poetry, for 1803, 2nd edn.
(London: Rivington, 1805) 413±15. See also the anonymous `Negro's
Imprecation', The Meteors (London: A. & J. Black, 1800).
26 Richardson, `Romantic Voodoo', 5.
27 Shepherd Ìncantation', lines 34±7.
28 John Blassingame, Slave Testimony: Two Centuries of Letters, Speeches, Inter-
views and Autobiographies (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press,
1979) xlii.
29 William Boscom, Àcculturation Among the Gullah Negroes', American
Anthropologist 43 (1941): 44; cited in George Rawick, The American Slave: A
Composite Autobiography, 6 vols. (Connecticut: Greenwood, 1972) vol. i, 35.
30 Rawick, The American Slave, vol. i, 49; Hemenway, Hurston, 118±19. One
such descendent conjuror was Marie Leveau (c. 1819±1881), the legend-
ary Creole conjuror who presided over the Hoodoo world of New
Orleans. In Mules and Men, ed. Frank Boas and Arnold Rampersad (New
York: Harper Perennial, 1999), Hurston claimed that Marie Leveau was
a descendant of three generations of hoodoo queens.
31 Philip D. Curtin, Two Jamaicas: The Role of Ideas in a Tropical Colony,
1830±1865 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1955).
32 John Clark, Memorials of Baptist Missionaries in Jamaica, Including a Sketch of
the Labours of Early Religious Instructors in Jamaica (London: Yates and
Alexander, 1869) 12±4.
33 Curtin, Two Jamaicas, 33.
34 Ibid., 35, 168±9.
35 Ibid., 171.
36 James Olney, ed., Autobiography: Essays Theoretical and Critical (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1980) 6. See also George Starr, Defoe and
Spiritual Autobiography (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965); John
Morris, Versions of the Self Studies in English Autobiography from John Bunyan to
John Mill (London: Basic Books, 1966); Paul Delany, British Autobiography
in the Seventeenth Century (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1969);
Patricia Meyer Spacks, Imagining a Self: Autobiography and the Novel in
Eighteenth-Century England (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1976); Roy Pascal, Design and Truth in Autobiography (London: Routledge
and Kegan Paul, 1960) and Elizabeth Bruss, Autobiographical Acts: The
Changing Situation of a Literary Genre (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University
Press, 1976).
37 Georges Gusdorf, `Conditions and Limits of Autobiography', Auto-
biography: Essays Theoretical and Critical, ed. Olney, 37.
38 James Olney, `Some Versions of Memory / Some Versions of Bios: The
Ontology of Autobiography', Autobiography: Essays Theoretical and Critical,
ed. Olney, 241.
39 See Barrett J. Mendell, `Full of Life Now', Autobiography: Essays Theoretical
and Critical, ed. Olney, 49±72.
40 Ibid., 72.
41 Philip Curtin, Africa Remembered: Narratives by West Africans from the Era of
the Slave Trade (Madison: University of Wisconsin, 1967) 1±14; Thomas
Bluett, Some Memoirs of the Life of Job, the Son of Solomon, the High Priest of
Boonda in Africa (London, 1734), Robert Norris, ed., Memoirs of the Reign of
Bossa Ahadee, King of Dahomey to Which are Added; The Author's Journey to
Abomey the Capital and a Short Account of the African Slave Trade (London,
1789); John Ishmael Augustus James, The Narrative of the Travels of John
Ishmael Augustus James, an African of the Mandingo Tribe, who was Captured,
Sold into Slavery and Subsequently Liberated by a Benevolent English Gentleman
(Truro: n.d., 1836).
42 R.W. Loane, Authentic Narrative of the Late Fortunate Escape of R. W. Loane
Who, with Captain R. Youl, M. J. Flower and Eleven Natives Was Captured by
Aza Arabs in the Persian Gulf (London: Ferris, 1805); George Vason,
Authentic Narrative of Four Years' Residence at Tongataboo, one of the Friendly
Islands, in the South Sea, by [George Vason] who Went Thither in the Duff, Under
Captain Wilson, in 1796 (London: Longman, Hurst, Rees and Orme,
1810).
43 Cf. Allan de Sousa and Yong Soon Min's collaborative installation, Alter
Idem: Performing Personae (London: Camerawork Photographic Gallery,
September 1994) presented a visual analysis of the interrelationship
between ethnography and photography by means of the concept of the
`native informant'. See also James Clifford, The Predicament of Culture ±
Twentieth Century Ethnography, Literature and Art (Cambridge, Mass.:
Harvard University Press, 1988); James Clifford and George Marcus,
eds, Writing Culture ± The Poetics and Politics of Ethnography (Berkeley:
University of California, 1986); and Margaret Hodgen, ed., Early
Anthropology in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (Philadelphia: Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania Press, 1964).
44 Joanna, Joanna, or the Female Slave. A West Indian Tale, Founded on Stedman's
Narrative of an Expedition Against the Revolted Negroes of Surinam (London: S.
and B. Bentley, 1824) viii.
45 Sayer, Àutobiography', 165.
46 William Edward Dubois, The Souls of Black Folk, ed. Cadance Ward
(New York: Dover Publications, 1994), 2±3.
47 Spillers, `Mama's Baby, Papa's Maybe', 67, 72, 73.
48 VeÂveÂ Clark, `Developing Diaspora Literacy and Marasa Consciousness',
Comparative American Identities: Race, Sex and Nationality in the Modern Text,
ed. Hortense Spillers (New York: Routledge, 1991) 42±4.
49 The Fanti slave Ottobah Cugoano, author of Thoughts and Sentiments on
the Evil and Wicked Traf®c of the Slavery and Commerce of the Human Species,
Humbly Submitted to the Inhabitants of Great Britain (London, 1787), empha-
sised his status as a twin.
50 John Marrant, Journal of the Revd John Marrant (London, 1790).
51 See William Hosking Oliver, Prophets and Millennialists: The Uses of Biblical
Prophecy in England from the 1790s to the 1840s (Auckland: Auckland
University Press, 1978) for an excellent study of the millennial move-
ment.
52 Andrews, To Tell a Free Story, 62±65.
53 Jupiter Hammon, À Winter Piece' (1782), The Complete Works of
Jupiter Hammon, ed. Stanley Ransom (New York: Kennikat Press, 1970)
73.
54 Jupiter Hammon, Àn Address to the Negroes in the State of New York'
(1787), Magazine of History Series 114 (1925): 46.
55 Jupiter Hammon, Àn Evening Thought: Salvation by Christ with
Penitential Cries: Composed by Jupiter Hammon, A Negro Belonging
to Mr. Lloyd, of Queen's Village, on Long Island, the 25th December,
1760', Jupiter Hammon: American Negro Poet. Selections from His Writings and a
Bibliography, ed. Oscar Wegelin (New York: Heartman, 1915) 29±31, lines
39±40.
56 Jean Ossan, Henry Lloyd's Salt Box Manor House (New York: Lloyd
Harbour Historical Society, 1982) 20±4, 30, 38; Philip Richards,
`Nationalist Themes in the Preaching of Jupiter Hammon', Early
American Literature 25 (1990): 123±38.
57 Jupiter Hammon, An Address to Miss Phillis Wheatley (Hartford, 4 Aug.
1778), Jupiter Hammon, 32±3, lines 13±20.
58 Hammon, Address to the Negroes, 107.
59 Ibid., 51.
60 Ibid., 47.
61 Ibid., 73; my emphases. Richards, `Nationalist Themes', 123±38.
62 Ibid., 73.
63 Ibid., 73, 51, 47; my emphasis.
64 John Marrant, A Narrative of the Lord's Wonderful Dealings with John
Marrant, a Black (Now Going to Preach the Gospel in Nova Scotia) Born in New
York, in North America, 2nd edn. (London: Gilbert and Plummer, 1785).
All references will be to this edition.
65 Henry Louis Gates, The Signifying Monkey, 142±6. Marrant's text was
frequently amended and republished. As Potkay notes, there are
multiple copies of single issues and haphazardly reassembled collections
of various texts. The ®rst six editions of 1785 were printed by Gilbert
and Plummer; the last ènlarged by Mr. Marrant' himself. The last two
of these editions comprised of the same imprint `with additions' by
Marrant. The 1812 edition, A Narrative of the Life of John Marrant of New
York, in North America: Giving an Account of his Conversion When Only Nine
Years of Age (London, 1812), was edited by J. Nicholson. See Adam
Potkay and Sandra Burr, eds, Black Atlantic Writers of the Eighteenth Century:
Living the New Exodus in England and America (Basingstoke: Macmillan,
1995) 71±3.
66 Marrant, Narrative, v.
67 William Andrews, `The First Fifty Years of the Slave Narrative,
1760±1810', The Art of the Slave Narrative: Original Essays in Criticism and
Theory (Macomb: Western Illinois University, 1982) 6±24, 7. Aldridge
was not the distributor of the fourth edition of Marrant's text, however.
68 Wolfgang Iser, The Implied Reader: Patterns of Communication in Prose Fiction
from Bunyan to Beckett (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1974)
33, 208.
69 Andrews, `The First Fifty Years', 18.
70 Marrant, Narrative, iii.
71 Ibid., 7.
72 Ibid., 13.
73 Ibid., 11.
74 Ibid., 24.
75 At the time of Marrant's capture, the Cherokee tribe of the Indian
South constituted a population of about 15,000. Richard VanDerBeets,
ed., Held Captive by Indians: Selected Narratives, 1642±1836 (Knoxville:
University of Tennessee Press, 1994) 178.
76 Marrant, Narrative, iv.
77 Ibid., 27.
78 Ibid., iv.
79 Ibid., 27.
80 Ibid., 29.
81 VanDerBeets, Held Captive by Indians, x-xii.
82 Mary Rowlandson, A True History of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs.
Mary Rowlandson, a Minister's Wife in New England (London, 1682).
83 Ibid., title page, i, iv.
84 Ibid., 32.
85 Potkay and Burr, Black Atlantic Writers, 68. In November 1785, Marrant
arrived in Nova Scotia as a preacher to blacks, white and native tribes
but was accused of erroneous and devilish teachings by the Wesleyan
layman Philip Marchantan and R. Garretson.
86 Six years after his return to London in 1790, Marrant was buried in the
cemetery on Church Street in Islington.
87 James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw, A Narrative of the Most Remarkable
Particulars in the Life of James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw, An African Prince,
As Related By Himself, ed. Revd Walter Shirley (Bath: S. Hazard, 1770).
88 Lauren Henry, `Sunshine and Shady Groves: What Blake's `Little
Black Boy' Learned from African Writers', Romanticism and Colonialism,
ed. Tim Fulford and Peter Kitson (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1998) 83; Paul Edwards, Àn African Literary Source for Blake's
`Little Black Boy?', Research in African Literatures 21 (1990) 171±81.
89 Potkay and Burr, eds, Black Atlantic Writers, 24±6. There were four Bath
editions of Gronniosaw's text in 1770; one Newport edition in 1774; a
Welsh translation printed in Aberhonddu, 1779; Clonnel, Ireland,
1786; Dublin, 1790 (which did not contain a dedication to the Countess
of Huntingdon); Leeds, 1800.
90 Potkay and Burr, eds, Black Atlantic Writers, 23.
91 Gronniosaw, Narrative of the Most Remarkable Particulars, i.
92 Ibid., iv. Gronniosaw's female amanuensis may have been the religious
author and social reformist, Hannah More; Potkay and Burr, eds, Black
Atlantic Writers, 26.
93 Ibid., iv.
94 Ibid., iv.
95 Ibid., iv-vi.
96 Ibid., 7±8; my emphasis.
97 Ibid., 14, 11.
99 Ibid., 16.
100 Ibid., 16.
101 Ibid., 16±17.
102 Gates, Signifying Monkey, 137.
103 Gronniosaw, Narrative of the Most Remarkable Particulars, 18.
104 Ibid., 19.
105 Ibid., 25.
106 Daniel Defoe, The Life and Strange Suprizing Adventures of Mr D-DeF- of
London, Hosier. In a Dialogue between Him, Robinson Crusoe, and his Man,
Friday (London, 1719).
107 Gronniosaw, Narrative of the Most Remarkable Particulars, 35.
109 Ibid., 38.
110 Andrews, `The First Fifty Years', 6±8.
111 Gronniosaw, Narrative of the Most Remarkable Particulars, 47±8; my
emphasis.
7 phillis wheatley: poems and letters

1 Thomas Jefferson, `Notes', Writings, ed. Merrill Peterson (New York:
Literary Classics, 1984) 276.
2 Phillis Wheatley, Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral. Printed for
Arch. Bell (London, 1773); The London Chronicle, 9±11 Sept. 1773. The
American printing of Wheatley's poems did not appear until 1786 in
Philadelphia, two years after the poet's death on 5 Dec. 1784.
Slavery, 1670±1834 (London: Routledge, 1992) 127, 129; Lauren Henry,
`Sunshine and Shady Groves: What Blake's `Little Black Boy' Learned
from African Writers', Romanticism and Colonialism, ed. Tim Fulford and
Peter Kitson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998) 69; Wylie
Sypher, Guinea's Captive Kings: British Anti-Slavery Literature of the Eighteenth
Century (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1942) 4.
4 Charlotte Smith, Elegiac Sonnets (London, 1787).
5 John Shields, `Phillis Wheatley's Struggle for Freedom in her Poetry and
Prose', The Collected Works of Phillis Wheatley, ed. John Shields (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1988) 233. All references are from this volume
unless otherwise speci®ed. For further discussion on Wheatley see
William Robinson, Phillis Wheatley and Her Writings (New York: Garland
Press, 1984) and Critical Essays on Phillis Wheatley (Boston, Mass.: G. K.
Hall, 1982).
6 Sidney Kaplan, The Black Presence in the Era of the American Revolution,
1700±1800 (Amherst, Mass.: University of Massachusetts, 1989) 6±8;
Shields, Collected Works, 233. For a further discussion on the reasons
which most likely hindered the publication of Wheatley's poetry, see
William Robinson, Black New England Letters (Boston: Boston Public
Library, 1977) 50±1 and Mukhtar Ali Isani, `The First Proposed Edition
of Poems on Various Subjects and the Phillis Wheatley Canon', Early
American Literature 49 (1977): 97±103.
7 It was, however, cited amongst the list of titles for the proposed 1772
Boston volume.
8 John Lathrop, Innocent Blood Crying to God from the Streets of Boston (Boston,
1771) 8; John Levernier, `Phillis Wheatley and the New England Clergy',
Early American Literature 26 (1991): 26, 15±16.
9 John Lathrop, A Sermon Preached to the Ancient and Honourable Artillery-
Company in Boston, New England, 6th June 1774 (Boston, 1774) 13, 15.
10 Charles W. Akers, The Divine Politician: Samuel Cooper and the American
Revolution in Boston (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1982) 124.
11 Ibid., 123±4.
12 On 5 Mar. 1771, Samson Occom, the West Indian minister sent a
request to Susanna Wheatley, asking her to send Wheatley back to
Africa as a lay preacher: `Pray Madam, what harm would it be to send
Phillis to her Native Country as a Female Preacher to her kindred, you
know Quaker women are alow'd to Preach, and why not others, in an
Extraordinary Case': see also Harold Blodgett, Samson Occom (Hanover:
Dartmouth College Publications, 1935).
13 Wheatley, Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (New England,
Mass.: n.p. 1816) vii. John Moorhead was the pastor of the Scotch
Presbyterian Church in Boston and master of Scipio Moorhead, the
black servant to whom Wheatley addressed some of her poems. See
Shields, `Phillis Wheatley's Struggle', 300 and Betsy Erkila, `Revolu-
tionary Women', Tulsa Studies in Women's Literature 6 (1987): 201±21.
14 Shields, `Phillis Wheatley's Struggle', 229.
15 Ibid., 230.
16 John Gabriel Stedman, A Narrative, of a Five Years' Expedition, Against the
Revolted Negroes of Surinam, in Guiana, on the Wild Coast of South America;
From the Year 1772, to 1777, 2 vols. (London, 1796) 520. For an informal
reception of Wheatley's poetry see Philip Vickers Fithian, The Journal
and Letters of Philip Vickers Fithian 1773±1774: A Plantation Tutor of the Old
Dominion (Virginia: Colonial Williamsburg, 1957) 72±3.
17 Mukhtar Ali Isani, `The British Reception of Phillis Wheatley's Poems on
Various Subjects', Journal of Negro History 66 (1981): 144±9. Wheatley was
one of three American slaves who managed to publish literary works
whilst still in bondage, the other two being Jupiter Hammon (1711±179?)
and George Moses Horton (1797±1883).
18 Anna Barbauld, author of Epistle to William Wilberforce (London, 1791)
and Hannah More, author of Slavery: A Poem (London, 1788).
19 The Critical Review (36) Sept. 1773; Isani, `The British Reception', 145±6.
20 The London Chronicle (34) 16±8 Sept. 1773; Isani, `The British Reception',
146.
21 The Public Advertiser Oct. 1773; William Scheick, `Phillis Wheatley and
Oliver Goldsmith: A Fugitive Satire', Early American Literature 19 (1984):
82±4.
22 The London Monthly Review (49) Dec. 1773, 457±9; Isani, `The British
Reception', 147±8.
23 The Gentleman's Magazine (43) Sept. 1773; Isani, `The British Reception',
146.
24 Robert Sayer, Àutobiography and the Making of America', Auto-
biography: Essays Theoretical and Critical, ed. James Olney (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1980) 146±68.
25 Jefferson, Writings, vol. i, 266±7.
26 Jefferson, Àutobiography', Writings, 3±101.
27 Donna Landry, The Muses of Resistance: Labouring-Class Women's Poetry in
Britain, 1739±1796 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990) 244.
28 Levernier, `Phillis Wheatley', 25.
29 Robinson, Critical Essays 181±9; Levernier, `Phillis Wheatley', 24.
30 Akers, The Divine Politician, 36.
31 Wheatley, Àmerica' (1768) lines 8±11, 15±17.
32 Ibid., lines 38±40; my emphasis.
33 For an excellent discussion of Abigail Adams and Phillis Wheatley
within the matrix of revolutionary America, see Erkila, `Revolutionary
Women', 202.
34 Maecenas' own prose and verse, however, were ridiculed by Augustus
for their undisciplined style; The New Encyclopaedia Britannica, ed. Warren
Preece, 15th edn., 30 vols. (London: Encyclopaedia Britannica, 1974)
vol. xiv, 563.
35 Wheatley, `To Maecenas', Poems, 9±12, lines 4±6. See John Shields,
`Phillis Wheatley and Mather Byles: A Study in Literary Relationships',
The College Language Association Journal 23 (1980): 337±90.
36 Wheatley, `To Maecenas', Poems, 10, lines 23±8; my emphases.
37 Ibid., 9, 11, lines 29±30.
38 Julia Stewart, ed., African Names (New York: Citadel Press, 1994) 133.
Wheatley, `To Maecenas', Poems, line 37.
39 Wheatley, `To Maecenas', Poems, 11, lines 39±42.
40 Ibid., 11±12, lines 45±7.
41 Ibid., 12, lines 52±5.
42 Wheatley, Òn Being Brought from Africa to America', Poems, 18, lines
1±4.
43 Ibid., 18, line 4.
44 Wheatley, `To the University of Cambridge in New England', Poems, 15,
lines 4±6.
45 Homer, The Odyssey, trans. Alexander Pope, 4 vols. (London, 1773) Book
18, line 25.
46 Wheatley, Òn Being Brought from Africa to America', Poems, 18, lines
5±6.
47 Ibid., 18, lines 7±8.
48 Blake's poem `The Little Black Boy' emphasised the spiritual capacity of
Africans rather than the connotations associated with their physical
exterior.
49 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Biographia Literaria: Or, Biographical Sketches of
My Literary Life and Opinions, 2 vols., ed. James Engell and W. Jackson
Bate, 2 vols. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983).
50 Levernier, `Phillis Wheatley', 24; Kaplan, Selling of Joseph, 27±52.
51 Wheatley, Òn the Death of the Revd Dr Sewall', Poems, 19±21, line 9.
52 Ibid., 19, lines 11±14; 20.
53 Ibid., 21, lines 50±1.
54 Henry Louis Gates, Figures in Black: Words, Signs and the `Racial' Self, 74;
Dorothy Porter, Èarly American Negro Writings: A Bibliographical
Study', PBSA 39 (1945): 261±3; Levernier, `Phillis Wheatley', 31; Shields,
`Phillis Wheatley and Mather Byles', 282.
55 White®eld, `Letter to the Inhabitants of Virginia, Maryland, North and
South Carolina, Concerning Their Negroes', Three Letters from the
Reverend Mr G. White®eld (London, 1740) 14.
56 Shields, `Phillis Wheatley and Mather Byles', 282.
57 Wheatley, Òn the Death of George White®eld', Poems, 23, line 21.
58 Ibid., 23, lines 32±5.
59 Ibid., 24, lines 38±41.
60 Ibid., 210, lines 43±4; my emphasis.
61 Ibid., 23, lines 36±7.
62 Wheatley, Collected Works, 170; my emphasis.
63 For further discussion of some variants of Phillis Wheatley's poems, see
Isani, `The Methodist Connection: New Variants in Some of Phillis
Wheatley's Poems', Early American Literature 22 (1987): 108±13.
64 Wheatley, Collected Works, 172.
65 Ibid., 181±2.
66 Ibid., 181±2.
67 Paul Edwards and David Dabydeen, eds, Black Writers in Britain,
1760±1890 (1991; Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1994) 101.
68 See Margaret Priestley, `Philip Quaque of the Cape Coast', Africa
Remembered: Narratives by West Africans from the Era of the Slave Trade, ed.
Philip Curtin (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1967) 99.
69 Two years earlier, another `Cudjo' member, `William' who had also
travelled with Quaque under the auspices of the S.P.G., was `put out of
reach of instruction by a Lunacy' which seized him in December 1764
and led to his con®nement in St Luke's Hospital and subsequent death
in Guy's Hospital.
70 Priestley, `Philip Quaque of the Cape Coast', 99±106.
71 Wheatley, Letter to John Thornton, 30 Oct. 1774, Collected Works, 184.
72 Priestley, `Philip Quaque', 109.
73 Ibid., 113±7.
74 Ibid., 121.
75 See Curtin, Africa Remembered, 123, note 55; 131. Quaque, 20 Oct. 1781.
76 Quaque, 17 Jan. 1778; Priestley, `Philip Quaque', 129; my emphasis.
77 Quaque, 13 Oct. 1811; Priestley, `Philip Quaque', 109.
78 Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality. Volume One: An Introduction, trans.
Robert Hurley (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1990) 53±73; de Man, The
Rhetoric of Romanticism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1984).
278±302.
79 Henry Louis Gates, Figures in Black, 76. See Blodgett, Samson Ocean, 119,
148.
80 Wheatley, letter to Revd Samson Occom, 11 February 1774, Collected
Works, 176±7, 176; The Boston Post Boy, 21 March 1774, Erkila, `Revolu-
tionary Women', 201±23; Gates, Figures in Black, 77; The Connecticut
Journal, 1 April 1774, 1.
81 Wheatley, letter to Revd Samson Occom, 11 Feb. 1774, Collected Works,
177.
82 Mark Akenside, The Pleasures of Imagination. A Poem. In Three Books, 3rd edn.
(London, 1744): `The silken fetters of delicious ease' (Book II, line 562);
Edward Young, The Complaint, or Night Thoughts (London, 1742±1745).
83 Wheatley, Òn Imagination', Poems, 66, lines 13±22.
84 William Wordsworth, The Prelude, ed. Jonathan Wordsworth, M. H.
Abrams and Stephen Gill (New York: Norton, 1979) Book 1, 28, lines
1±2, 5±9; my emphasis.
85 Coleridge, `The Eolian Harp', Poetical Works, ed. Ernest Hartley
Coleridge (Oxford: Oxford University press, 1969) 100±2; `This Lime-
Tree Bower My Prison', Poetical Works, 178±81; `Frost at Midnight',
Poetical Works, 240±2; `Dejection: An Ode', Poetical Works, 362±8, lines
82±6.
86 Wheatley, Òn Imagination' Poems, 66, lines 23±6, 33, 36.
87 Wheatley, `To the Right Honourable William, Earl of Dartmouth',
Poems, 74, lines 25±31.
88 Erkila suggests that during these years the Earl incited slave rebellions
against plantation masters: `Revolutionary Women', 207.
89 Wheatley, Collected Works, 285; Òn Recollection', Poems, 63, lines 5±6,
27±30.
90 Wheatley, Òn Recollection', Poems, 62, lines 15±16.
91 Ibid., 63±4, lines 31±6; my emphasis.
92 Ibid., 64, lines 37±50.
93 Margaretta Odell, Memoir and Poems of Phillis Wheatley: A Native African
and a Slave. Also Poems by a Slave (Boston: Geo. W. Light, 1834) 10.
Wheatley's `Thoughts on the Works of Providence' similarly depicted
the sun as a supreme symbol of divinity.
8 olaudah equiano's interesting narrative

1 Olaudah Equiano, The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or
Gustavus Vassa, the African. Written By Himself, 2 vols. Printed and sold by
the author (London, 1789). All references will be from this edition unless
otherwise speci®ed. In 1789 there were two further editions of Equiano's
text, both of which were printed by T. Wilkins. A fourth edition was
published in 1790; a ®fth in 1791 and a sixth in 1793. A London edition
of 1809 was printed by S. Mason. In 1814 further editions were printed
by James Nichols of Leeds and J. Nicholson of Halifax. Other editions
included one printed in Norwich in 1794 and Penryn (printed by
W. Cock) in 1816. Subscribers to Equiano's text included Hannah
More, Revd Aldridge, Ottabah Cogoano and T. Clarkson. For further
publication details see Adam Potkay and Sandra Burr, eds, Black Atlantic
Writers of the Eighteenth Century: Living the New Exodus in England and America
(Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1995) 162±3 and for a discussion of Equiano's
text, see Keith Sandiford, Measuring the Moment: Strategies of Protest in
Eighteenth-Century Afro-English Writing (Selinsgrove: Susquehanna Press,
1988) 118±48.
2 Angelo Costanzo, Surprising Narrative: Olaudah Equiano and the Beginnings of
Black Autobiography (New York: Greenwood Press, 1987) 125±6, n. 9.
3 Sonia Hofkosh, `Tradition and the Interesting Narrative: Capitalism,
Abolition, and the Romantic Individual', Romanticism, Race, and Imperial
Culture, ed. Alan Richardson and Sonia Hofkosh (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1996) 330±43, 332.
4 Sandiford, Measuring the Moment, 126±8.
5 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, iii-iv; my emphases. Joanna South-
cott presented a similar petition to the `spiritual' dimension of the
Houses of Parliament in her request that Richard Brothers be freed
from prison. Joanna Southcott, Joanna Southcott to the Lords Spiritual and
Temporal and to the Gentlemen of the House of Commons in Parliament, May 29
1802 (London: E. Spragg, 1802) 1.
6 During the court proceedings, an insurance lawyer summarised English
law as follows: `The insurer takes upon him the risk of the loss, capture,
and death of slaves, or any other unavoidable accident to them: but
natural death is always understood to be expected: ± by natural death is
meant, not only when it happens by disease or sickness, but also when the
captive destroys himself through despair, which often happens: but when
slaves are killed . . . to quell an insurrection . . . then the insurers must
answer.' See Susanne Everett, The Slaves (London: Bison Books, 1978) 60.
7 Costanzo, Surprising Narrative, 43±4; The Monthly Review, June 1789,
551±2.
8 Equiano, The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano: Or Gustavus
Vassa, the African, Written by Himself. A new edition, corrected (Leeds:
James Nichols, 1814) v. The other new 1814 edition was the J. Nicholson
reprint (Halifax) which included Wheatley's Poems on Various Subjects,
Religious and Moral (London: Arch. Bell, 1773).
9 Equiano, Interesting Narrative (1814), vi.
10 Hofkosh argues that Equiano's text demonstrates that the economic
structure of property and power undermines the very possibility of
individual freedom. His manumission indicates that individualism is
double-edged: capitalism and abolition are `two sides of the same
cognitive coin'; Hofkosh, `Tradition and the Interesting Narrative', 335.
11 See Catherine Obianuju Acholonu, The Igbo Roots of Olaudah Equiano: An
Anthropological Research (Owerri, Nigeria: AFA Publications, 1989).
12 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 38; my emphases.
13 Ibid., vol. 1, 41; Dr Mitchell, Philos, no. 476; sect. 4.
14 Stuart Hall, `Cultural Identity and Diaspora', Identity: Community, Culture,
Difference, ed. Jonathan Rutherford (London: Lawrence and Wishart,
1990) 402.
15 Constantine Phipps, A Journey of a Voyage Towards the North Pole (London,
1774); Benezet, Some Historical Account of Guinea, its Situation, Produce and the
General Disposition of its Inhabitants . . . (Philadelphia, 1771) and Clarkson,
An Essay on Slavery and the Commerce of the Human Species . . . (London,
1789); Gates 153.
16 Benezet, Some Historical Account, 6±7; Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol.1, 4.
17 Benezet, Some Historical Account, 35.
18 Equiano, vol. 1, 31.
19 Ibid., vol. 1, 5±6.
20 See James Arthur Baldwin, The Fire Next Time (London: Michael Joseph,
1963) for a contemporary account of renaming in the diaspora.
21 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 3.
22 Ibid., vol. 1, 28; See Paul Edwards, Unreconciled Strivings and Ironic
Strategies: Three Afro-British Authors of the Georgian Era: Ignatius Sancho,
Olaudah Equiano, Robert Wedderburn (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University
Press, 1992) 9.
24 For a discussion of the emergence of the prophetic black church
tradition in Afro-America, see Cornel West, Prophetic Fragments (Mi-
chigan: Ferdmans, 1988).
25 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 34±5; my emphases.
26 Ibid., vol. 1, 35.
27 Ibid., vol. 1, 35±6.
28 Equiano, Interesting Narrative (Leeds, 1814) Chap. 2, vol. 1, 33; my
emphases.
29 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 27±8; See also Toni Morrison,
Beloved (1987; London: Chatto and Windus, 1988), and Ben Okri, The
Famished Road (London: Cape, 1991).
31 Ibid., vol. 1, 70.
32 Ibid., vol. 1, 92±3; my emphasis.
33 Henry Louis Gates, The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of African-American
Literary Criticism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988), 155;
Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 33. The young Equiano's initial
response to these cultural signi®ers of control anticipates the Africans'
fear of possession of the spirit by the camera, which reached the
continent in 1839. Nicholas Monti, Africa Then: Photographs, 1840±1918
(New York: Alfred Knopf, 1987) 5±11.
34 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. i, 28±9.
35 Longinus, Longinus on the Sublime, ed. and trans. W. Rhys Roberts
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987) 7, 2, 3±4; Thomas
Weiskel, The Romantic Sublime: Studies in the Structure and Psychology of
Transcendence (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1986) 4.
36 Edmund Burke, A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origins of our Ideas of the Sublime
and Beautiful, ed. Adam Phillips (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990).
37 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, 79.
38 Ibid., vol. 1, 80.
39 Ibid., 80. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, `The Rime of the Ancient Mariner',
Poetical Works, ed. Ernest Hartley Coleridge (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1969) 197, lines 267±81.
41 Ibid., vol. 1, 60.
42 bell hooks, Ain't I a Woman?: Black Women and Feminism (1981; London:
Pluto Press, 1992) 20±2.
43 See Elaine Savory Fido, `Mother/lands: Self and Separation in the
Work of Buchi Emecheta, Bessie Head and Jean Rhys', Motherlands:
Black Women's Writing from Africa, the Caribbean and South Asia, ed. Sushiela
Nasta (London: The Women's Press, 1991) 330±49.
44 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 205±6; my emphases. For a discus-
sion of legal constraints, desires and deconstruction see Stanley Fish,
Doing What Comes Naturally: Change, Rhetoric and the Practice of Theory in
Legal Studies (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989) 12.
45 William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England in Four Books,
eighth edn., 4 vols. (Oxford, 1779), vol. iv, 210.
46 Ibid., vol. iv, 214.
47 Paul de Man, Allegories of Reading: Figural Language in Rousseau, Nietzsche,
Rilke, and Proust (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979) 279.
48 Michel Foucault, History of Sexuality, trans. Robert Hurley (Harmonds-
worth: Penguin, 1990) vol. i. 61±3, 19±21.
49 De Man, Allegories of Reading, 280.
50 Acholonu, The Igbo Roots, 16±7.
51 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 28±9;.
52 I® Amadiume, Male Daughters, Female Husbands: Gender and Sex in African
Society (1987; London: Zed Books, 1992) 92±3. See also Chinua Achebe,
Things Fall Apart (1958; London: David Campbell, 1992).
53 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 206±7.
54 Ibid., vol. 1, 172.
55 Ibid., vol. 1, 132±3; my emphases.
56 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 131±6, 151.
57 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 1, 148±9, 154, 160.
58 Ibid., vol. 1, 241±2.
59 Ibid., vol. 1, 244.
60 Ibid., vol. 1, 134.
61 Ibid., vol. 1, 181±3, 190.
62 Ibid., vol. 1, 219±20, 224, 225±6; my emphasis.
63 Ibid., vol. 1, 217±18.
65 Ibid., vol. 2, Frontispiece.
66 Ibid., vol. 2, 126.
67 Ibid., vol. 2, 117±18.
68 Ibid., vol. 2, 125.
69 Ibid., vol. 2, 130.
70 Ibid., vol. 2, 146±7, 148, 150±1, 154.
71 Albert J. Raboteau, Slave Religion: The Ìnvisible Institution' in the Antebellum
South (1978; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980) 7±10.
72 Laguerre, Voodoo Heritage, 21±7.
73 Ibid., 27±8.
74 Ibid., 150.
75 By 1797, blacks constituted 25 per cent of the total Methodist population
in the United States, the majority of which were located in Maryland,
Virginia and North Carolina. Raboteau, Slave Religion, 131. See Fred-
erick Law Olmsted's account of the ecstatic behaviour displayed during
an evangelical sermon in a black church in New Orleans: `Sometimes
the outcries and responses were not con®ned to ejaculations of this
kind, but shouts, and groans, terri®c shrieks, and indescribable expres-
sions of ecstasy ± of pleasure or agony ± and even stamping, jumping,
and clapping of hands . . . I was once surprised to ®nd my own muscles
all stretched, as if ready for a struggle ± my face glowing, and my feet
stamping . . . I could not, when my mind reverted to itself, ®nd any
connection or meaning in the phrases of the speaker that remained in
my memory.' Raboteau Slave Religion, 62.
76 Paul Gilroy, Small Acts: Thoughts on the Politics of Black Cultures (London:
Serpent's Tail, 1993) 138.
77 I am using the term `natal alienation' as coined by Orlando Paterson
(The Sociology of Slavery (New Jersey: Rutherford, 1969)), to infer the loss
of ties at birth experienced by slaves in both ascending and descending
generations; the severance of ties to the past and to progeny; and the
attempted erasure of African language, culture and religion.
78 Equiano, Interesting Narrative, vol. 2, 186±7; my emphasis.
79 Ibid., vol. 2, 178.
80 Ibid., vol. 2, 182±3.
81 Ibid., vol. 2, 235, 237. Equiano had been appointed Commissionary for
Provisions for the New Colony in Sierra Leone but was dismissed on 24
Mar. 1787 for exposing the misuse of the projects funds.
82 Ibid., vol. 2, 150±1.
83 Ibid., vol. 2, 244.
84 Ibid., vol. 2, 247±50; my emphases.
9 robbert wedderburn and mulatto discourse

1 Nelson Mandela at his ®rst trial in 1962.
2 Furbush, Dying Confessions, cited in William Andrews, To Tell a Free Story:
The First Century of Afro-American Autobiography, 1760±1865 (Urbana:
Illinois University Press, 1986) 49.
3 See Iain McCalman's edition, The Horrors of Slavery and Other Writings by
Robert Wedderburn (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1991) and
idem, The Radical Underworld: Prophets, Revolutionaries and Pornographers in
London, 1795±1840 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988) 5±7,
28±9, 50±3,149. See also Paul Edwards, Unreconciled Strivings and Ironic
Strategies: Three Afro-British Authors of the Georgian Era: Ignatius Sancho,
Olaudah Equiano, Robert Wedderburn (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University
Press, 1992).
4 McCalman, The Horrors of Slavery, 52±3.
5 Robert Wedderburn, The Horrors of Slavery: Exempli®ed in the Life and
History of the Revd Robert Wedderburn in Which is Included the Correspondence of
Robert Wedderburn and His Brother A[ndrew] Colville, alias Wedderburn.
Printed and published by Robert Wedderburn (London, 1824) 11.
6 Edwards, Unreconciled Strivings, 15±19.
7 Wedderburn, Truth, Self-Supported; Or, A Refutation of Certain Doctrinal
Errors, Generally Adopted in the Christian Church, by Robert Wedderburn (A
Creole from Jamaica) (London, 1790), title page.
8 Ibid., 5±6.
9 Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England in Four Books, eighth edn.,
4 vols. (Oxford, 1779) cited in Blackburn, The Overthrow of Colonial Slavery,
1776±1848 (London: Verso, 1990) 81.
10 Blackburn, The Overthrow, 81; Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black
People in Britain (London: Pluto, 1984) 114±15; Blackstone, Commentaries,
vol. i, 123. In the second edition of 1767 the revised formula appears on
page 127.
11 Blackburn, The Overthrow, 81.
12 Michael Craton, James Walvin and David Wright, eds, Slavery, Abolition
and Emancipation: Black Slaves and the British Empire (London: Longman,
1976) 170; cited in Moira Ferguson, Subject to Others: British Women Writers
and Colonial Slavery, 1670±1834 (London: Routledge, 1992) 116±17; my
emphasis.
13 McCalman, The Horrors of Slavery, 58.
14 Wedderburn, Truth, Self-Supported, 3±4.
15 Ibid., 12, 14±15; my emphases.
17 Ibid., 8±10.
18 Ibid., 8±9.
19 Wesley's hymn is identi®ed by McCalman as number 340. John Wesley,
The Works of John Wesley, ed. Albert Outler, 5 vols. (Nashville: Abingdon
Press, 1984).
20 Wedderburn, The Trial of the Revd Robert Wedderburn, a Dissenting Minister
of the Unitarian Persuasion, for Blasphemy in the Court of the Kings Bench,
Westminster, the Sittings after Hilary Term, 1820, ed. E. Perkins (London: W.
Mason, 1820) 5.
21 See McCalman, Radical Underworld. Four years later, the Government
arrested Thomas Evans, the founding member of the Society of
Spencean Philanthropists set up in 1814.
22 Wedderburn, The Axe Laid to the Root, or A Fatal Blow to Oppressors; Being
An Address to the Planters and Negroes of the Island of Jamaica (London, 1817) 4
parts; cited in Ian McCalman ed, The Horrors of Slavery and Other Writings
by Robert Wedderburn (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1991)
81±105.
23 Ibid., Part 1, 81.
24 Ibid., Part 1, 86; my emphases.
25 Ibid., Part 1, 86±7; my emphasis.
26 ibid., Part 2 (1817) 89±90 my emphases.
27 Ibid., Part 4 (1817): 96±7; my emphasis.
28 McCalman, The Horrors of Slavery, 132.
29 Ibid., 136.
30 William Blake, `The Marriage of Heaven and Hell', The Complete Poems
of William Blake, ed. W. H. Stevenson (London: Longman, 1989) 111,
Plate 11. Although it is not known whether Wedderburn knew anything
of Blake's writings, Wedderburn's work established a relation to the
prophetic example set by his Soho neighbour, Richard Brothers, a
contemporary of Blake's who was sent to Bedlam in 1795.
31 McCalman, The Horrors of Slavery, 56. See also Arnold Rattenbury,
`Methodism and the Tatterdemalions', Popular Culture and Class Con¯ict,
1590±1914: Explorations in the History of Labour and Leisure, ed. Eileen and
Stephen Yeo (Brighton: Harvester Press, 1981) 28±61; J. Obelkevich,
Religion and Rural Society: South Lindsey, 1825±1875 (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1976); William Hosking Oliver, Prophets and Millennialists: The Uses
of Biblical Prophecy in England from the 1790s to the 1840s (Auckland:
Auckland University Press, 1978) 11±24, 34±5, 45±7, 50±6.
32 Wedderburn, The Trial, 9.
33 Ibid., 10.
34 Ibid., 10±12.
36 Ibid., 19.
37 Wedderburn, The Address of the Revd R. Wedderburn, to the Court of the King's
Bench at Westminster, on Appealing to Receive Judgement for Blasphemy when he
was Sentenced to Two Years Imprisonment in Dorchester Jail on Tuesday 9th of
May 1820, ed. Erasmus Perkins (London, 1820); McCalman, The Horrors
of Slavery, 141.
38 Wedderburn, Horrors of Slavery, 5.
39 Ibid., 4.
40 Ibid., 4.
41 Ibid., 13.
42 Ibid., 15.
43 Ibid., 5, 9. See also Toni Morrison's Beloved (1987; London: Chatto and
Windus, 1988) for an examination of infanticide in the post-slavery
America.
44 Wedderburn, The Horrors of Slavery, 15±16.
45 Ibid., 5.
46 Ibid., 3.
47 Ibid., 6.
48 Ibid., 6±8.
49 Ibid., 5.
50 Wedderburn, Cast-Iron Parsons: Or `Hints to the Public and the Legislature, on
Political Economy, Clearly Proving the Clergy Can be Entirely Dispensed With,
Without Injury to the Christian Religion, or the Established Church, and to the
Great Advantage of the State' (London, 1820); cited in McCalman, The
Horrors of Slavery, 143, 147.
51 Wedderburn, `The Holy Liturgy: Or Divine Science, upon the Principle
of Pure Christian Diabolism, Most Strictly Founded upon the Sacred
Scriptures', The Lion, 21 March 1828; cited in McCalman, The Horrors of
Slavery, 153, 154; my emphases except ®nal sentence. Wedderburn's
Christian Diabolist Liturgy found its way to New York where it
appeared in The Correspondent, ed. George Houston, 4 Oct. 1828,
168±70; McCalman, The Horrors of Slavery, 34.
Index
Abingdon, Lord, 122 slave trade, 215

abolition, 41, 111, 177, 187, 193, 224 War of Independence, 4, 43, 204
Abrams, Meyer Howard, 104 American Freedman's Inquiry Commission,
Acholonu, Catherine, 230, 241 173
Act of the Assembly of Barbados, 246 Anderson, Isaac, 4
Acts of the Assembly, Jamaica, 171 Andrews, William, 161, 187, 199; To Tell a Free
Adanson, Michel, 25 Story, 161
Addison, Joseph, 91, 110 Anglican Church, 186
Afer, Publicus Terentus, 211 Annesley, Samuel, 36
Africa, Anson, George, 80
commercialisation of, 90 Antigua Assembly, 139
de®nitions of, 46, 65, 135, 138, 224 Aristotle, Politics, 21
epistemologies, 11, 84, 248 Arminian Magazine, The, 48, 206
metaphysics, 12 Asante, Mole® Kete, 164 ±5
redemption of, 47 Atkins, John, 23; Voyage to Guinea, Brasil, and
African, the West Indies, 134
belief systems, 10, 52, 64, 65, 128, 136, 148, Attucks, Crispus, 204
157, 173 ± 4, 219, 263, 271 authorship, 193 ±4
civilisation of, 133 autobiography, 175
culture, 164, 181, 195 ± 6, 212, 245, 256 feminised, 55
epistemologies, 159, 167, 169, 195, 203, 233 national, 151, 208
linguistic systems, 148, 164 slave, 158, 176 ±80, 220, 230, 269
racial differences, 137, 141 spiritual, 47, 48, 51, 53, 58, 60, 128, 252
religious practices, 134
sexual practices, 148 Baker, Moses, 174
African Institution, the, 41 Banks, Joseph, 43
Africans, Baptists, 174
displacement of, 161 Barbados, Government Council of, 139
inferiority of, 147, 207 Barbauld, Mrs, 206
Afro-synthesis, 174 Basire, James, 114
Ah-affoe-way-cah, 233 ±4, 248 Baxter, Richard, 198, 200; God's Call to the
Akenside, Mark, 91, 221; Pleasures of Unconverted, 198
Imagination, 91 ±2 Beattie, James, 28; An Essay on the Nature and
Albion, 119 Immutability of Truth, 28
Aldridge, Revd, 187 Bebbington, David, 29
Amadiume, I®, 241± 2 Bell's Life of London, 266± 7
American, Benezet, Antony, 25, 26, 32; The Case of Our
Declaration of Independence, 150, 151, Fellow-Creatures, the Oppressed Africans, 33;
184, 205 A Caution and a Warning to Great Britain and
relationship with Britain, 82, 150, 201, 209, Her Colonies, 26; Some Historical Account of
223 Guinea, 25 ± 6
324
Index 325
antislavery work, 39, 90 Bosman, William, 25; New and Accurate
Equiano and, 231 ±2 Description of the Coast of Guinea, 134, 149
Quakers and, 33, 34 Boston Massacre, the, 204
Benveniste, Emile, 7 Boston Tea Party, the, 205
Bibbs, Henry Bournou, 193
Bible Christians, 52 Brantley, Richard, 104
Bill for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, 111, Brathwaite, Edward Kamau, 163
113, 122, 146 Bristol Library, 95
birthright, concepts of, 217 Britain
black America, links with, 82
Atlantic, 4 imperialism, 26
church, 233, 250 slave trade and 111, 112, 114, 172, 229
diaspora, 271 Brothers, Richard, 50, 53, 54, 87
English, 162 Bunyan, John, 48, 198, 200; Grace Abounding to
literary tradition, 160 the Chief of Sinners, 198
poor, 252 Burke, Edmund, 86, 122, 152; Philosophical
blackbirds, London, 200, 256 Enquiry into the Origins of our Ideas of the
blacks, Sublime and Beautiful, 237; Re¯ections on the
resident in London, 2 Revolution in France, 152
spiritual potential, 23 Burton, Dr Daniel, 219
transportation, 4 Butler, Ellen, 173
Blackstone, William, 19, 240, 257; Butts, Thomas, 116
Commentaries on the Laws of England, 19, Buxton, Thomas Fowell, 47; The African Slave
257 Trade and Its Remedy, 47
Blake, William, 114 ± 24; Àll Religions are Byles, Mather, 205, 211
One', 117; Jerusalem, 118± 20; The
Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 117 ± -8; Songs Caboceer, Cudjo, 219
of Innocence and Experience, 120; Visions of Campbell, Miss, 262
the Daughters of Albion 121±3 Cannon, George, 263
abolition and, 121, 122 captivity, genre of, 106, 190 ± 1
African writers and, 115, 192 Carlisle, Richard, 270
critique of established church, 117 Cecil, Richard, 45
empiricist epistemology and, 123 Cherokees, 189, 191
imagination and,119, 214 Christian Diabolists, 263, 269 ± 70
natural religion, 117 Christianity, 128, 133± 5, 148, 184, 194, 197,
oppression and, 123 223
prophetic writings, 115, 116, 117, 118 critiques of, 187, 264
race and, 120 synthesis of, 161
Swedenborg and, 117, 118 Church Missionary Society, 45
Wedderburn and, 263 Church of England, 261
Wollstonecraft and, 121, 122, 123 slavery, views on, 29
blasphemy, 199, 265 Clapham Sect, the, 35, 44
Bluett, Thomas, 179; Some Memoirs of the Life of Clark, Veve, 181
Job, 179 Clarkson, Thomas, Essay on the Impolicy of the
Blumenbach, Joseph, 89, 140 ± 3; Contributions African Slave Trade, 35; Essay on Slavery and
to Natural History, 141; Observations on the the Commerce of the Human Species, 35, 231;
Bodily Conformation and Mental Capacity of History of the Rise, Progress, and
the Negroes, 141; On the Natural Variety of Accomplishment of the African Slave Trade,
Mankind, 140 ±2 41
Blunt, Catherine, 218 lecture tours, 35
Boehme, Jacob, 116 Romanticism and, 83, 90, 96, 112
Bois, W.E.B. du, 179 ±80; The Souls of Black Sierra Leone project and, 43
Folk, 179 Society for Abolition and, 128, 201
Bonaparte, Napoleon, 109 Clifford, Jim, 6
Book of Revelation, 102, 103, 54 ± 5, 198 Code Noir, 171
326 Index
Coke, Thomas, 46, 169; History of the West Critical Review, The, 206
Indies, 46 ±7 Cromwell, Oliver, 31
Coleridge, E. H., 92 Cugoano, Ottobah, 4, 115
Coleridge, Samuel, 9, 67, 89 ±104, 222; cultural,
Biographia Literaria, 214; Lecture on the Slave assimilation, 166, 200
Trade, 89 ± 93; Poems, 95 ±104; The contact, 67, 83, 124, 131, 145, 214
Watchman, 89 difference, 59, 138, 159, 197
antislavery and, 92, 94, 95, 103, 112, 192 dispossession, 166
consciousness and, 136 identity, 161, 267± 8
imagination, 102 intersection, 168, 197, 200
intertextual relations, 90, 93, 96, 98, 100 intertextuality, 6
lectures, 89, 91, 94 miscegenation, 182, 187, 231, 243, 248, 254
radical dissenting Protestantism and, 99, preservation, 158, 208, 225, 270
100, 102 Cummins, Alissandra, 139
spiritual autobiography and, 97, 98, 100, Cunningham, Adeline, 173
101, 185 Curtin, Philip, 174 ± 5; Two Jamaicas, 174
Collingwood, Luke, 4 Cuvier, Georges, 142± 3; The Animal Kingdom
Collins, Harriet, 173 Arranged, 142± 3
colonial,
desire, 127 Damballa, 168
ideology, 131, 267 Davidson, Margaret, 58; The Extraordinary Life
insurrection, 210 and Christian Experience of Margaret
trade, 67 Davidson, 58
colonisation, 90 Defoe, Daniel, 198; The Life and Strange
Colville, A., 266 Suprizing Adventures of Mr. D- De F-, 198
Committee for the Purpose of Effecting the degeneration, 67, 142± 6
Abolition of the Slave Trade, 2 Deverell, Mary, 90, 201
Committee for the Relief of the Black Poor, diaspora,
1± 2, 226, 258 African, 7, 153, 177, 181, 212, 244, 254
Company of Merchants Trading to Africa, diasporic,
218 identity, 153 ± 66, 212, 271
conversion, literacy, 181
Christianity, to, 175, 184, 191, 192 ±3, 198, discourse,
217, 221 abolitionist, 208
narratives, 189, 195, 226, 244, 247 colonial, 79
convicts, 1 identity and, 271
Cooper, Revd Samuel, 205 relation to reality, 7
Cosway, Richard, 115, 192 sexual, 55, 58
Cowper, William, 8, 59, 70 ±81, 114, 206, 222; spiritual, 13, 36, 49, 54, 62, 74, 84, 109, 161,
The Cast-Away, 80 ±1; Memoir of the Early 182 ±3, 186 ±7, 200, 235, 250, 259
Life, 73 ±4; Memoirs, 70 ±1; Memoirs of the subversion and, 12, 153, 177
Life and Writings of William Cowper, 72; divine,
Olney Hymns, 71 ±2; The Task, 74 ±80 election, 53, 190, 246
colonial ideology, 78 inspiration, 234
depression, 71, 74 providence, 234
evangelical motif, use of, 70 Dockray, Benjamin, 113
poems, 75, 77 Doddridge, Philip, 35, 105; Rise and Progress of
Romanticism, relation with, 72 Religion in the Soul, 35
slave trade, critique of , 76, 77, 79 Doran, Captain James, 229
spiritual development, 72, 73, 78, 80, 89 Douglas, Lady, 268
creole, dream
languages, 6, 162± 3 framework, 55, 246
persons,146 language of, 51
creolisation, 10, 11, 163 ± 5, 235, 260, 270
creolised, 124, 153, 165, 226, 256, 260, 270 ± 1 East India Company, the, 112, 205
Index 327
ebonics, 162, 164 Gentleman's Magazine, The, 207
Eclectic Society, the, 45 Gibbons, Thomas, 205
Edgeworth, Maria, 172; Belinda, 172 Gibson, Edmund, 40
editorial control, 59, 129 Gifford, Dr Andrew, 193
Edwards, Jonathan, 29 Gisbourne, John, 104
Edwards, Paul, 115, 192, 226 Gobineau, Joseph Arthur de, 144 ± 5; Inequality
emancipation, 146, 166, 185, 211, 258, 261, of Human Races, 144 ± 5
264 Godwin, William, 105, 107
England Gospel Magazine and Theological Review, The,
abolitionist role, 47, 223 95 ±6
englishization, 165 Great Awakening, the, 192, 199, 217
equality, female, 58 Great Evangelical Revival, the, 175
Equiano, Olaudah, 4, 10, 88, 141, 172, 183, Greatheed, Revd S., 72
213, 225, 226± 54; Interesting Narrative, Gregson v. Gilbert, 94
226± 54 Grenada, 112
Erdman, David, 121 Gronniosaw, James Albert Ukawsaw, 9, 115,
Erskine, Lady Ann, 228 192± 201; Narrative of the Most Remarkable
evangelicalism, 104, 179, 200, 216, 221 Particulars, 192 ±200
Evangelical Revival, the, 183 Gurney, Henry, 199
exile, 238
exodus, 168 Hall, Stuart, 231
Hammon, Jupiter, 9, 182± 6; Address to Miss
Falconbridge, Anna Maria, 44, 45; Narrative of Phillis Wheatley, 184; An Address to the
Two Voyages to the River Sierra Leone, 44 ± 5 Negroes of the State of New York, 184; Àn
Falconbridge, Alexander, 44 Evening Thought', 183; Narrative of the
Farmer, Captain Thomas, 229 Uncommon Sufferings, 182
Favret, 82 Hancock, John, 206
female, 58, 59 Hann, R., 57; The Remarkable Life of Joanna
prophetic tradition, 52, 57 Southcott, 57
subjugation, 87, 88 Hartman, Geoffrey, 104
theology, 53 Hastings, Selina (Countess of Huntingdon),
Ferguson, Moira, 44 186, 191, 205 ± 6, 211, 228
fetish, 136 Haweis, Rev, 60
Foucault, Michel, 7 Hawkins, John, 2, 15, 16
Foucault, Michel, 176, 220, 240 Haydon, Benjamin, 114
Fox, George, 31, 32; A Brief History of the Hazlitt, William, 37
Wesleyan Missions on the Western Coast of Hegel, George Wilhelm Friedrich, 133± 7,
Africa, 46 191; Phenomenology of Religion, 135;
Fox, William, 46, 94 Phenomenology of Spirit, 135; Philosophical
freedom, History of the World, 133
declarations of, 266 Henry, Lauren, 115, 192
quest for, 161, 247 Herbert, Sir Thomas, 148; Some Yeares Travels
sexual, 124 into Divers Parts of Asia and Afrique, 148
Freelandhouse (Frelinghuysen), Jacobus, 192, Hesketh, Lady, 72
197 Hofkosh, Sonia, 83
French Catholicism, 161 Holloway, Joseph, 165
French Guiana, 126 hoodoo, 171± 4
French Revolution, the, 152 Hopkins, Samuel, 209, 217
Freud, Sigmund, 176 Howard, William, 57; Letter to Joanna Southcott,
Fricker, Sara, 98 57
Fulford, Tim, 83 Hume, David, 137, 138, 209; Of National
Fuseli, Henri, 120 Characters, 137
Hurston, Zora Neale, 160 ± 1, 168; Moses, Man
Gates, Henry Louis, 187, 196, 236; The of the Mountain, 168; Tell My Horse, 168;
Signifying Monkey, 187 Their Eyes Were Watching God, 160
328 Index
Hutcheson, Francis, 23, 24, 150; Inquiry into the liberationist ideology, 29, 184, 204, 214
Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, Lindsey, Theophilus, 256
150 ± 1; System of Moral Philosophy, 23± 4 Lisle, George, 174
Hutchinson, Henry, 112 Loane, R. W., 179; Authentic Narrative, 179
Hutchinson, Sara, 100, 101 Locke, John, 21, 22, 209; Essay Concerning the
Hutchinson, Thomas, 206 True Original, Extent, and End of Civil
hybridity, 132, 143± 5, 177, 200, 268 Government, 21 ±2
London Abolition Society, the, 121
Ibo culture, 232, 235, 241, 251 London Chronicle, The, 206
identity, London Magazine, The, 23
con®gurations of, 168, 175, 181 London Missionary Society, the, 45
diasporic, 157 ±8, 271 London Monthly Review, The, 207
Long, Edward, 20, 140, 142; Candid Re¯ections,
Jackson, Thomas, 48 20, 142; History of Jamaica, 140
Jacobus, Mary, 82, 112 Longinus, 237
Jamaica, 112, 138, 140, 171, 173, 255, 262 L'Ouverture, Toussaint, 109, 110, 125
James, John Ishmael Augustus, 179; Narrative
of Travels, 179 Madan, household, 72
Jefferson, Thomas, 149 ±51, 208 Madden, R. R., 171; Twelvemonths Residence in
Joanna, or the Female Slave, 125, 179 the West Indies, 171
Johnson, Joseph, 86, 114, 125 Maecenas, Gaius, 211
Jonson, Ben, 113 Man, Paul de, 5, 82, 220, 240
Mans®eld, Lord, 20, 257 ± 8
Keats, John, 224 marasa, 181
King, Robert, 229 maroons, 126, 170
Kitson, 83 Marrant, John, 9, 182, 199; Narrative of the
krio, 162 Lord's Wonderful Dealings, 182, 186± 92
Kristeva, Julia, 51 Marsden, John, 191
Martin, Bernard, 98
Laguerre, Michel, 249 Martin, Henry William., 42; Counter-Appeal in
Lamb, Charles, 84, 99 Answer to Àn Appeal' from William
Lamb, Dorothy, 99 Wilberforce, 42
Land, Tristam, 40 masculinity, signi®ers of, 242
land, redistribution, 86 Massa tales, 166
Landry, Donna, 208 Mather, Cotton, 48
languages, Mather, Increase, 48
inequalities of, 145 Mathews, William, 104
models of, 162 Mbiti, John Samuel, 170
West African, 164, 230 McCalman, Iain, 259, 269
Lathrop, John, 204, 209 McGann, Jerome, 82
Lavater, John Caspar, 120, 141 Mellor, Anne, 82, 120
Lawrence, Sir William, 144; Lectures on memory, 50, 177, 190, 225
Physiology, Zoology, and the Natural History Mendell, Barrett J., 179
of Man, 144 menstruation, West African treatment of,
Lee, Anne, 33, 56 242
Lee, Jarena, 183 Methodism,
Lee, Richard Henry, 150 congregations, 186, 189
Leece, Sophia, 58; Narrative of the Life of Sophia growth of, 31
Leece, 58 Oxford, 37
Legge, William, 205, 223 principle features of, 66, 256, 259
Les Amis des Noirs, 35 slave trade, criticism of, 40
Levine, Lawrence, 168 transatlantic connections, 4, 30, 215
Levinson, Marjorie, 82 Methodist, funeral elegies, 203
Lewis, George, 174 Methodists, 29 ± 31, 36± 43, 119, 141
liberation, paradigms of, 202 Calvinist, 191
Index 329
Primitive, 52 Paine, Thomas, 149 ±54, 203, 256; Common
middle passage, the, 93, 157, 159, 181, 191, Sense: Addressed to the Inhabitants of America,
198± 9, 237 ±8, 249 150; Rights of Man, 152 ± 3
Middleton, Thomas, 104 parliament, petitions to, 111
Millar, John, 28; The Origin of the Distinction of Parliamentary Committee on Convict
Ranks, 28 Transportation, 1
Milton, John, 111; Paradise Lost, 131 Pascal, Michael, 229 ±30
miscegenation, 9, 10, 11, 124, 127, 130, 132, Pechmeja, Jean de, 26
133, 212, 266± 9 Penn, William, 32
effects of, 145, 158, 262 Perkins, John, 4
prohibition of, 139, 140, 143 Phipps, Captain, 247
missionaries, 47, 174, 252 Phipps, Constantine, 231
missionary ideology, 30, 45, 68, 134 physiognomy, 120, 137, 141
Mneme, 224 pidginization, 162, 165
Mnemon, 224 Pinney, John Pretor, 112
monogenesis, claims of, 141, 144 Pitkin, Timothy, 209
Montagu, Basil, 105 plantation mistresses, 126
Moorhead, John, 205 plantocrats, 175
Moravian, 37 Pollard, Jane, 105, 112
More, Hannah, 96, 206, 228 polygenesis, 140, 142 ± 3, 230
Morris, John, 71 polytheism, 219
Morrison, Toni, 225 Poole, Thomas, 95, 96
Moses, representation of, 168, 189 Pope, Alexander, 211; Odyssey, 213
Mosquito Indians, 151 Potkay, Adam, 192
motherland, concepts of, 238 Pratt, Mary Louise, 4, 130, 131
Moynihan Report, the, 15 Price, Richard, 121, 256
mulatto, 130, 139 ±45, 158 ±9, 199, 254, 268 ±9 Price, Sally, 121
texts, 175, 195, 262 Prichard, James Cowles, 143± 4; Researches into
myalism, 170 the Physical History of Man, 143 ±4
Priestley, Joseph, 256
narratives, Prince, Mary, 88
audience for, 187, 193 Pritchard, John, 49; Lives of the Early
early slave, 167 ±200 Methodists, 49
hoax, 179 Private Acts of Assembly, 140
intercultural, 51, 66 property,
nationalism, 75 legal concepts of, 152, 153, 159
Native Baptists, 174 rights of, 151± 2
Newton, John, 8, 45, 59, 60 ±70, 192, 198; prophecy,
Authentic Narrative, 60 ± 9; Journal of a female tradition, 52, 57
Slave-Trader, 65 ± 6; Thoughts upon the male tradition, 54
African Slave Trade, 69 ±70 power of, 56, 225, 257
antislavery agitation and, 69, 70 spiritual autobiography and, 62, 100, 102,
narrative, 64, 65, 93, 106 169
spiritual autobiography, 63, 67 Prossere, Gabriel, 27
nonconformism, 29 prostitution, 140
Norris, Robert, 179; Memoirs of the Reign of Protestantism, radical dissenting, 13, 19, 39,
Boassa Ahadee, 179 47 ±81, 59, 80 ±5, 97 ± 115, 132, 182, 197,
Nova Scotia, 4, 186 203, 271
slaves and, 189, 206, 225, 231, 245, 260
obeah, 128, 148, 170 ± 4, 255 Protestant narratives, 183; see also
Obi: or, Three Finger'd Jack, 172 Protestantism, radical dissenting
Occom, Samson, 209, 220; A Choice of Hymns Public Advertiser, The, 206± 7
and Spiritual Songs, 220
Odell, Margaretta, 225 Quakers
Olney, James, 176 ±7 antislavery agitation, 32, 34, 41, 246
330 Index
Quakers (cont.) Roper, Moses, 88; Narrative of the Adventures and
emergence of, 29 Escape of Moses Roper, 147 ±8
Quaque, Philip, 217 ± 20, 250 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 119, 221, 240
Queen, Daniel, 243 Rowlandson, Mary, 191; A True History of the
Quincey, Josiah, 146 Captivity and Restoration of Mrs Mary
Rowlandson, 191
race, concepts of, 271 Royal Adventurers, the, 2, 17
racial, Royal African Company, the, 22, 138
eradication, 4
difference, 83, 131, 140, 231 St Domingue, 92, 109, 112, 125, 171, 249, 258,
intermixture, 141, 231 261
segregation, 146 salvation,
superiority, 142 personal, 54, 184, 189, 213
racism, 175 political, 253, 260
radicalism, spiritual, 60, 61, 67, 100, 185, 193, 257
dissenting Protestantism, 39, 48 ±81, 132, Sasa period, 169
182, 197, 271 Scott, Mary, 90, 114, 201
slaves and, 189, 206, 225, 231 Secondat, Charles Louis du, 22; The Spirit of
Rainsford, Marcus, 110; Historical Account of the Laws, 22 ±3
the Black Empire of Hayti, 110 segregation, cultural, 66
Ramsay, James, 83 self,
rape, 240, 269 concepts of, 50, 132, 147, 177, 182, 190, 201,
Raynal, Guillame, 26, 27, 141; A Philosophical 259, 267
and Political History, 26± 7, 130 consciousness of, 75, 133, 135, 136
redemption, de®nitions of, 177
sexual, 129 determination, 238
regeneration, spiritual, 74 intertextual, 51
Religious Society of Friends, 31 representations of, 160, 183, 235
repatriation, 44, 228 Seven Years' War, 192, 230
Report of the Lords of the Committee of the Council Sewall, Dr Joseph, 214
Appointed for the Consideration of all Matters Shaftesbury, Lord, 62
to Trade and Foreign Plantation, 171 Shakers, 33, 34
republicanism, 150 Shakespeare, William, 147; The Tempest, 147
Rhodes, Benjamin, 49 Sharp, Granville, 2, 44, 94, 205, 228, 248;
Rhyskamp, Charles, 71 Regulation for the New Settlement in Sierra
Richardson, Alan, 83, 172 Leone, 258; Representation of the Injustice and
Richardson, Ebenezer, 204 Dangerous Tendency of Tolerating Slavery, 258
rights, Shepherd, William, 172 ±3; The Negro's
of liberty, 184, 257 Incantation, 172
of women, 86± 9, 121 Shields, John, 221
property, 87 Shirley, Revd Walter, 193 ± 4
Romantic, Sierra Leone, 1, 2, 3, 231, 252
ideology, 222 colony of, 42, 43, 228
poets, 31, 72, 192, 254, 270; see also expeditions to, 43, 64, 68
Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey, Blake Sierra Leone Company, the, 44, 45
studies, 4 ± 5, 12, 82 ±5 Simeon, Charles, 104
literature, 4, 5, 9, 83 ±5, 102 slave,
Romanticism, 5, 109 ± 10, 153, 157 colonies, 17
audience, 84 fortresses, 1
®rst generation, 84 ideology, 68, 137
imagination, concept of, 91 ±2, 108, 110 insurrection, 27, 45, 46, 92, 95, 109, 112,
liberationist ideology, 81 125, 133, 138, 149, 167, 172, 210, 238, 244,
literary criticism and, 82 258
revolution and, 4 laws, 147
slaves and, 83, 84, 192, 201, 270 literacy, 147, 149
Index 331
narratives, 9, 60, 85, 90, 157 ± 8, 165 ±6, Prophecies of Joanna Southcott, 56; Strange
176± 7 Effects of Faith, 52 ±6; ; A Warning to the
slaves, Whole World, 56
articulations of, 106 teachings, 57, 97
autobiography and, 162, 187, 188, 212, 226, pregnancy, 57
239, 252 Southey, Robert, 84, 92, 172, 175; The Sailor,
communication, 163 93± 4
experience, 93, 157, 158, 199, 237, 269 poems of, 93, 109
language, 159, 187, 196 Spence, Thomas, 261
liberation and, 216 Spillers, Hortense, 158, 181
rewards for, 184 spirit, possession, 128, 170 ± 1, 174, 233± 6,
sexual relations, 126, 130, 139, 238± 9, 243, 242, 249
268 spirits, ancestral, 197, 219, 224, 236, 249
spiritual nature of, 29, 162 spiritual,
status of, 158, 250, 257 development, 58
transportation of, 119, 249 discourse, 13, 36, 49, 54, 62, 74, 84, 109,
white females and, 88 153, 161, 182± 3, 186± 7, 200, 235, 250,
slavery, 259
de®nitions of, 139, 208 illumination, 252
institution of, 24, 221 pilgrimage, 61, 193 ±4
psychological, 114 redemption, 255
sexual, 114 visitations, 49, 55, 106, 248
slave trade, 20, 138, 213 spirituals, 168
foundations of, 17 Stedman, John, 9, 86, 114, 120, 206; Narrative
inef®ciency of, 28, 90 of a Five Years' Expedition, 124 ± 33
ports, 19 Stepan, Nancy, 146
prohibition of, 42 Stephen, James, 112
transatlantic project, as, 163 Stowell, Hugh, 59
Sloane, Hans, 23; Voyage to the Islands of Strickland, George, Sir, 125
Madera, Barbados, Nieves, S. Christopher and subjectivity, 50
Jamaica, 23 suicide, 170
Smeathman, Henry, 1, 2, 43; Free English Surinam, 126, 130, 131
Territory in Africa, 2; Plan of a Settlement to Swedenborg, Emanuel, 115, 116, 117, 118;
be Made Near the Sierra Leona, 2; Regulations Wisdom of Angels Concerning Divine Love,
for the New Settlement in Sierra Leone, 2 116
Smith, Adam, 27, 112; Inquiry into the Nature predestination and, 116
and Causes of Wealth of the Nations, 27 Swedenborg Society, the, 120
Smith, Charlotte, 172; The Story of Henrietta,
172; Elegiac Sonnets, 203 Tacky's Revolt, 27, 173
Smith, William, 25 Talbot, Eugene, 144 ±5
Snelgrave, William, 18; New Account of Some Talkee Amy, 255
Parts of Guinea and the Slave Trade, 134 Tanner, Obour, 216
Society for Effecting the Abolition of the Taylor, Edward, 48
Slave Trade, 33, 34, 41, 43, 111, 122, 205 testimony,
Society for Missions to Africa, 45 confessional, 176, 220, 240 ±1
Society for the Mitigation and Gradual public, 207, 264
Abolition of Slavery, 41 theology, female, 53
Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Thomson, William, 125, 126
Foreign Parts, 217 Thornton, Henry, 2
Somer, Sir George, 147 Thornton, John, 218
Somerset, James, 2, 20, 42, 146, 258 Truth, Sojourner, 168
Song of Songs, 56, 103 Turner, Nat, 27, 173
Southcott, Joanna, 8, 50 ±8, 183; The Book of
Wonders, 57 ±8; A Communication Given to Unitarianism, 256, 259
Joanna Southcott, 54 ±6; The Life and United Empire Loyalists, 174
332 Index
Unwin, household, 71 imagination and, 222
Quaque, criticism of, 218
Vallon, Annette, 107 Wheatley, Susanna, 203
Vanhorn, Mrs, 197 Wheelock, Eleezer, 209
Vason, George, 66, 129, 179; Authentic Whitaker, Nathaniel, 209
Narrative of Four Years' Residence at White®eld, George, 30, 40, 119, 189, 193, 199,
Tongataboo, 66± 7, 179 205, 214 ±16, 246; Letter to the Inhabitants of
Vassa, Gustavus, 229 Virginia, Maryland, North and South
Vendler, Helen, 82 Carolina, 40 ± 1
Vesey, Denmark, 27 Wilberforce, William, 35, 36, 40, 41, 45, 104,
Virginia, 112 265, 267; Appeal.. in Behalf of the Negro
vodun, see voodoo Slaves in the West Indies, 42; Letter on the
Voltaire, 119 Abolition of the Slave Trade, 40;
voodoo, 145, 170 ± 4, 249 ± 50 abolition and, 105, 111
Winckelman, Johann Joachim, 137; History of
Waddington, Samuel, 263 Ancient Art, 137
Wadstrom, Carl Bernhard, 90, 96 Winterbottom, Thomas, 170
Walker, Richard, 80 witchcraft, 56
Wallace, George, 24, 25; System of the Principles Wollstonecraft, Mary, 9, 86± 9, 115, 221;
of the Law of Scotland, 24 ±6 Vindication of the Rights of Men, 86 ±7;
Wardley, James, 33 Vindication of the Rights of Woman, 87 ± 9
Wardley, Jane, 33 emancipation, 88, 89
Washington, George, 152 women's rights and, 87, 121
Watson, Brook, 205 Wood, Joseph, 34
Watson, Nicola, 82 Woolman, John, 32, 95; Journal of the Life,
Watts, Isaac, 260 Gospel Labours and Christian Experience, 32;
Wedderburn, James, 255, 262, 266, 269 Some Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes,
Wedderburn, Robert, 10, 201, 213, 255 ± 71; 32, 96
Axe Laid to the Root, 261 ±5; Cast-Iron philanthropic ambitions, 96
Parsons, 269; The Horrors of Slavery, Wooster, David, 205, 216± 17
256 ±71; The Lion, 270; The London Wordsworth, Dorothy, 84, 105, 112
Chronicle, 201; Truth, Self- Supported, Wordsworth, William, 9, 104 ±14, 115, 131,
256 ±8 222; Poems, 113; The Prelude, 84, 106± 9,
Wesley, John, 30, 36 ±9, 226, 260; Advice to the 141
People Call'd Methodists, 38; Character of a abolition and, 111, 113, 114
Methodist, 38; The New Birth, 37± 8; autobiography, 76, 106, 108
Thoughts Upon Slavery, 39 Coleridge and, 112
abolitionist ideology, 39 concept of imagination and, 108
concept of salvation, 37, 38 consciousness and, 136
evangelicalism, 104 Newton and, 106
new birth, 57 spiritual autobiography and, 107
testimony, 48 `spots of time', 62
Wesley, Samuel, 36 Works Progress Administration, the, 173
Wesleyan Methodist Missionary Society, the, Wrangham, Francis, 105
174
West Indies, Yearseley, Ann, 96
history, 46 Yoruba people, 11, 161, 170, 181, 249
Slave Codes, 19, 139 Young, Edward, 221; The Complaint, 221
Wheatley, John, 203, 210 Young, Robert, 273
Wheatley, Phillis, 9, 90, 127, 141, 183, 200,
201 ±25, 264; Poems on Various Subjects, Zaara, kingdom of, 195
Religious and Moral, 201± 25 zemi, 169
colonialism, criticism of, 220 Zong, the, 94, 228
C A M B R I D G E S T U D I E S I N ROM A N T I C I S M
Titles published
1. Romantic Correspondence: Women, Politics and the Fiction of Letters
mary a. favret
2. British Romantic Writers and the East: Anxieties of Empire
nigel leask
3. Edmund Burke's Aesthetic Ideology:
Language, Gender and Political Economy in Revolution
tom furniss
4. Poetry as an Occupation and an Art in Britain, 1760±1830
pe ter mur phy
5. In the Theatre of Romanticism: Coleridge, Nationalism, Women
julia a. carlson
6. Keats, Narrative and Audience
and rew ben net t
7. Romance and Revolution: Shelley and the Politics of a Genre
david duff
8. Literature, Education, and Romanticism
Reading as Social Practice, 1780±1832
alan richardson
9. Women Writing about Money: Women's Fiction in England, 1790±1820
edward copeland
10. Shelley and the Revolution in Taste: The Body and the Natural World
timothy morton
11. William Cobbett: The Politics of Style
leonora nattrass
12. The Rise of Supernatural Fiction, 1762±1800
e. j. clery
13. Women Travel Writers and the Language of Aesthetics, 1716±1818
elizabeth a. bohls
14. Napoleon and English Romanticism
simon bainbridge
15. Romantic Vagrancy: Wordsworth and the Simulation of Freedom
celeste langan
16. Wordsworth and the Geologists
jo h n wyat t
17. Wordsworth's Pope: A Study in Literary Historiography
robert j. griffin
18. The Politics of Sensibility:
Race, Gender and Commerce in the Sentimental Novel
markman ellis
19. Reading Daughters' Fictions 1709±1834:
Novels and Society from Manley to Edgeworth
caroline gonda
20. Romantic Identities: Varieties of Subjectivity, 1774±1830
a n d r e a k . h e n d e r s on
21. Print Politics: The Press and Radical Opposition
in Early Nineteenth-Century England
kevin gilmartin
22. Reinventing Allegory
theresa m. kelley
23. British Satire and the Politics of Style, 1789±1832
gary dyer
24. The Romantic Reformation
Religious Politics in English Literature, 1789±1824
robert m. ryan
25. De Quincey's Romanticism
Canonical Minority and the Forms of Transmission
margaret russett
26. Coleridge on Dreaming
Romanticism, Dreams and the Medical Imagination
jennifer ford
27. Romantic Imperialism
Universal Empire and the Culture of Modernity
saree makdisi
28. Ideology and Utopia in the Poetry of William Blake
nicholas m. williams
29. Sexual Politics and the Romantic Author
sonia hofkosh
30. Lyric and Labour in the Romantic Tradition
anne janowitz
31. Poetry and Politics in the Cockney School
Keats, Shelley, Hunt and their Circle
jeffrey n. cox
32. Rousseau, Robespierre and English Romanticism
g reg o ry d art
33. Contesting the Gothic
Fiction, Genre and Cultural Con¯ict, 1764±1832
james watt
34. Romanticism, Aesthetics, and Nationalism
david aram kaiser
35. Romantic Poets and the Culture of Posterity
and rew ben net t
36. The Crisis of Literature in the 1790s
Print Culture and the Public Sphere
paul keen
37. Romantic Atheism: Poetry and Freethought, 1780±1830
martin priestman
38. Romanticism and Slave Narratives: Transatlantic Testimonies
helen thomas

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Helen Thomas' study opens a new avenue for Romantic literary

studies by exploring connections with literature produced by

h e l e n t h o m a s is lecturer in English at Queen Mary and

Professor Marilyn Butler Professor James Chandler

For a complete list of titles published see end of book.

© Helen Thomas 2000

First published in printed format 2000

A catalogue record for the original printed book is available

ISBN 0 511 01058 3 virtual (netLibrary Edition)

Marlene Nourbese Philip, `Meditations on the Declensions of

1 Sir John Hawkins' Crest. Mary W. S. Hawkins, Plymouth page 16

In other words, this study extends the concept of cultural hybridity

The English slave trade and abolitionism

Although it would be a further one hundred years before England

Conversely, in his `Essay Concerning the True Original, Extent, and

However, as an investor in the Royal African Company and as a

Although Montesquieu's remarks fell short of an unmitigated

Drawing on drafts from several authors, including the radical

abolition and radical dissenting protestantism

quakers and shakers

In his tract, The Case of Our Fellow-Creatures, the Oppressed Africans,

the society for the abolition of the slave trade

Two essential elements informing the success of the Society's

john wesley, methodism and abolition

Since England's economic advancement had been gained from the

Methodism's critique of the slave trade as propounded by Wesley

By targeting the more vulnerable issue of the conditions of the

Nevertheless, the Quakers played a vital role in the abolition of

metamorphosis: the discourse of the spirit, missionary

Radical dissent and spiritual autobiography

joanna southcott and the evolution of feminised

Southcott's text redetermined the metaphorical `bride' of Revelation

Southcott's feminised and autobiographical exegesis of the Book of

Accordingly, in his Remarkable Life, Entertaining History and Surprising

john newton's encounters; spiritual and otherwise

Recalling his spiritual heritage as the only son of dissenting parents,

Whereas her attendants ridicule and abuse him, the enchained

william cowper's ambiguous deliverance

poems of liberty and deluge

Having endeavoured to relocate the abolitionist concern within the

Whilst the promise of spiritual illumination and disclosure in Cow-

Romanticism and abolitionism: Mary Wollstonecraft,

Over the past two decades the concept of Romanticism as an

mary wollstonecraft: feminism and abolitionism

Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Men concluded with an

A woman's value, she argued, was judged not in terms of her

coleridge's bitter sweet `lecture on the

In the condensed form of the Lecture on the Slave Trade which

Coleridge's endeavour to avoid too direct a reference to the trade,

coleridge's discourse of the spirit:

Likewise, in his tract, Some Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes (1754),

coleridge's `letter to sara hutchinson'

Ah! from the Soul itself must issue forth

Accordingly the poet imagines a superior `marriage' between mind

Interestingly, Coleridge's `Letter' establishes an important shift away

wordsworth's spiritual autobiography

During his stay at her uncle's parsonage, Wilberforce had

wordsworth and the slaves

william blake: spiritualism and abolitionism