Università degli Studi di Bari Aldo Moro

Corso di Laurea in Comunicazione Linguistica e Interculturale Curricula: Mediazione Interculturale/Italiano per Stranieri

Letteratura Inglese I

a. a. 2014-2015

Prof. Franca Dellarosa franca.dellarosa@uniba.it

Romanticisms, Nation and Empire

Representations  of  Slavery    in  Romantic-­‐Era  Writings  II:  

 The  Haitian  Revolution  

Edward Rushton, Oil on canvas, Moses Haughton the Younger (1773-1849), Royal School for the Blind, Liverpool

Edward Rushton (1756-1814) http://www.uniba.it/docenti/ricerca/dipartimenti/lelia/ricerca/progetti/progetto-unsung

I grieve when earth is drenched with gore

And realms with woe are covered o’er;

I grieve, and reprobate the plan

Of thanking God for slaughter’d man.

Edward Rushton, ‘Lines Addressed to Robert Southey, on Reading His Carmen Trumphale’ (1814)

No, Southey, no! oppressors ne’er unbind,

’Tis man – high minded man, must liberate mankind.

[…] when, oh, Southey! tell me, when

Have despots raised their slaves to men?

From Jamaica’s hot clime, and her pestilent dews,

From the toil of a sugar-stow’d barque,

From the perilous boating that oft thin the crews,

And fill the wide maw of the shark;

From fever, storm, famine, and all the sad store

Of hardships by seamen endured,

Behold poor Will Clewline escaped, and, once more,

With his wife and his children safe moor’d.

‘Will Clewline’ (1801)

And now, like a tempest that sweeps through the sky,

And kills the first buds of the year,

Oh! view, midst this region of innocent joy,

A gang of fierce hirelings appear,

They seize on their prey all relentless as fate,

He struggles – is instantly bound,

Wild scream the poor children, and lo! His loved Kate

Sinks pale and convulsed to the ground.

Ye statesmen who manage this cold-blooded land,

And who boast of your seamen’s exploits,

Ah, think how your death-dealing bulwarks are mann’d,

And learn to respect human rights.

This great annual return of wealth, may be said to pervade the whole town, increasing the fortunes of the principal adventurers, and contributing to the support of the majority of its inhabitants; […] almost every order of people is interested in a Guinea cargo […] many of the small vessels that import about an hundred slaves are fitted out by attornies, drapers, ropers, grocers, tallow-chandlers, barbers, tailors, &c. some have one eighth, some a fifteenth, and some a thirty-second.

[James Wallace, A General and Descriptive History of the Antient and Present State of the Town of Liverpool […] together

with a Circumstantial Account of the True Causes of its Extensive African Trade, 2° ed., 1797:229, 229n]

Source: Thomas Clarkson, The History of the Rise, Progress, and Accomplishment of the Abolition of the African Slave Trade by the British Parliament, vol 1. London: Longman, Hurst, Reese and Orme, 1808.

At that time to speak irreverently of the king, or even to deny the existence of God, were, in the town of Liverpool, venial offences, when compared with the atrocity of condemning the sale and purchase of human flesh. William Shepherd, ‘Sketch of the Life of the Author’, Poems and Other Writings by the Late Edward Rushton (1824)

[…] Sweet are thy notes, yet minds intent

On life’s prime object – cent. per cent.

Heed not thy soft delicious strain,

Nor any notes, save notes of gain;

Oh, Ruddock! Couldst thou name some shore

By Britains trade uncursed before,

Where Afric’s injured race would come,

In crowds, for half the present sum,

Or couldst thou aid the speculating throng,

The great commercial few would pause, and praise thy song.

‘To a Redbreast in November, Written near one of the Docks of Liverpool’ (1806)

Jumba.

[…] But go, Adoma, since to live is sweet,

Go, like a dog, and lick the white men’s feet; […]

Tell them, though Jumba dares to plot their fall,

That thou are tame, and wilt submit to all […]

Adoma .

How! – I betray my friend! – Oh, Jumba, cease;

Nor stab Adoma with such words as these.

Death frights me not; I wish revenge like thee;

But oh! I shudder at their cruelty.

West Indian Eclogues, 1787: 9 Eclogue II

Congo.

And was this all? was this th’ atrocious deed?

Which doom’d this hoary sufferer to bleed?

May ev’ry curse attend this pallid race,

Of earth the bane, of manhood the disgrace.

West Indian Eclogues, 1787: 18-19 Eclogue III

The effects which your revolution will have upon the world are incalculable. By the flame which you have kindled, every oppressed nation will be enabled to perceive its fetters; and when man once knows that he is enslaved, the business of emancipation is half performed. – France has already burst her shackles, neighbouring nations will in time prepare, and another half century may behold the present besotted Europe without a peer, without a hierarchy, and without a despot.

[Rushton, 1797: 6-7]

For seven years you bravely fought the battles of your country, and contributed greatly to the establishment of her liberties; yet you are a slave-holder! You have been raised by your fellow-citizens to one of the most exalted situations upon earth, the first magistrate of a free people; yet you are a slave-holder! A majority of your countrymen have recently discovered that slavery is injustice, and are gradually abolishing the wrong, yet you continue to be a slave-holder! You are a firm believer too, and your letters and speeches are replete with pious reflections on the divine being, providence, &c. yet you are a slave-holder!

[Rushton, 1797: 21-22]

Representing the Haitian Revolution (1791-1804) The Haitian Revolution did challenge the ontological and political assumptions of the most radical writers of the Enlightenment. The events that shook up Saint Domingue from 1791 to 1804 constituted a sequence for which not even the extreme political left in France or in England had a conceptual frame of reference. They were ‘unthinkable facts’ in the framework of Western thought. Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1995), p. 82. The transformation of slaves, trembling in hundreds before a single white man, into a people able to organise themselves and defeat the most powerful European nations of their day, is one of the great epics of revolutionary struggle and achievement. C. L. R. James, ‘Preface’, The Black Jacobins: Toussaint L’Ouverture and the San Domingo Revolution [1938], with an Introduction and Notes by James Walvin (London: Penguin Books, 2001), p. xviii.

Toussaint L’Ouverture (1743-1803)

If Heaven has into being deign’d to call

Thy Light, O Liberty! to shine on all;

Bright intellectual Sun! why does thy ray

To earth distribute only partial day? […]

While the chill North with thy bright ray is blest,

Why should fell darkness half the South invest?

Was it decreed, fair Freedom! at thy birth,

That thou shou’d’st ne’er irradiate all earth?

While Britain basks in thy full blaze of light,

Why lies sad Afric quench’d in total night?

Hannah More, Slavery: A Poem 1788

When the world’s eternal Sire Placed on high yon glorious fire, Were the splendid beams design’d For a part of human kind? No! ye sable warriors, no! All that live partake the glow: Thus, on man, the impartial God Light, and winds, and rains bestow’d; And widely thus were pour’d his dearest rights, And he who slights the gift – the Almighty donor slights.

‘Toussaint to His Troops’ (1802?- 1806)

Se il Cielo si è degnato di chiamare in vita La tua Luce, O LIBERTÀ! Affinché risplenda su ciascuno; Sfavillante Sole dell’intelletto! Perché il tuo raggio

!  Sulla terra solo diffonde in parte il giorno? [...] Mentre il gelido Nord è benedetto dal tuo raggio splendente, Perché l’orrida tenebra metà del Sud investe? È stato forse alla tua nascita decretato, Libertà o bella! Che mai avresti irradiato l’intera terra? Mentre Britannia del tuo raggio pieno gode la luce, Perché l’Africa desolata nella notte è spenta?

Quando l’eterno Signore del mondo Pose il fuoco glorioso lassù in alto, Erano forse i suoi raggi splendenti destinati Ad una sola parte del genere umano? No! miei foschi guerrieri, no! Tutti i viventi hanno parte in quella luce: Così, sull’uomo, Iddio la luce E venti e pioggia ha elargito imparziale: E generosi anche riversati i diritti a lui cari, E chi disprezza il dono – l’onnipotente che dona disprezza.

Now with canvass white as foam, See the vaunted legions come, Nerved by freedom, once they rose And o’erwhelm’d a world of foes: Now by freedom nerved no more, Lo! The miscreants seek our shore; Yes, the French, who waste their breath, Chaunting liberty or death, Sweep the blue waves at usurpation’s word,] And bring, oh, fiends accursed! Oppression or the sword.

E ora, le vele bianche come schiuma, Ecco le decantate legioni: Animate dalla libertà, un tempo si levarono E di nemici travolsero un mondo: Ora, non più animati da libertà, Ecco! Gli scellerati battono i nostri lidi; Sì, i Francesi, che sprecano il fiato A cantare di libertà o morte, Le onde azzurre solcano in nome dell’usurpazione E portano – che siano maledetti! – spada od oppressione.

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 find 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.

William Wordsworth, “To Toussaint” (1803)

TOUSSAINT, il più infelice fra gli uomini! Che tu riesca ad udire il contadino che, fischiando,] Prende cura dei solchi, o abbia il capo ora Reclinato nella sorda tana di un antro profondo;] Disgraziato Condottiero! dove e quando Troverai la sopportazione? Non morire, però; mostra] Piuttosto, pur in catene, una fronte serena: Per quanto caduto, per mai più levarti, Vivi, e abbi conforto. Alle tue spalle, hai lasciato] Poteri che lavoreranno per te; aria, terra, e cieli;] Non c’è respiro di vento Che ti dimenticherà; grandi i tuoi alleati; Ti sono amici l’esultanza, l’agonia, E l’amore, e la mente invincibile dell’uomo.

Your slaves don’t need either your generosity or your advice to break the sacrilegious

yoke that oppresses them. Nature speaks more powerfully than philosophy or self-

interest. Already, two colonies of black fugitives have established themselves, safe from

your assaults, through treaties and force. These streaks of lightning announce the

oncoming thunderbolts, and the blacks only need a leader courageous enough to lead

them towards vengeance and carnage. Where is this great man that Nature owes to her

vexed, oppressed, and tormented children? Where is he? He will appear, never fear, he

will show himself and raise the sacred flag of liberty. This venerable signal will allow the

companions of his misfortune to rally around him. More violent than waterfalls, they

will leave indelible traces of their justifiable resentment everywhere. Spaniards,

Portuguese, English, French, and Hollanders, indeed all their tyrannical masters will fall

prey to fire and brimstone.

Abbé Guillaume-Thomas Raynal, Histoire des deux Indes, 6: 206-208, tr. Aravamudan (1999) : 301-302

Men, whose famish’d sides have felt

Strokes by dastard drivers dealt;

Men, whose sorrowing souls have borne

Wrong and outrage, toil and scorn;

Men, whose wives the pallid brood

Have, by torturing arts, subdu’d;

Friends of Toussaint! warriors brave!

Call to mind the mangled slave!

[…]

Towering spirits! ye who broke

Slavery’s agonizing yoke;

Ye, who like the whirlwind rush’d,

And your foes to atoms crush’d;

Ye, who from Domingo’s strand,

Swept the daring British band;

Ye, oh warriors! Ye, who know

Freedom’s bliss and slavery’s woe,

Say! Shall we bow to Bonaparte’s train,

Or with unshaken nerves yon murderous whites disdain.

Uomini, i cui fianchi scarniti hanno provato I colpi dei vili sorveglianti – Uomini, le cui anime in pena hanno subito Torti ed oltraggi, fatica e disprezzo – Uomini, le cui donne la genìa pallida Ha sottomesso, con arti malvagie – Amici di Toussaint! Coraggiosi guerrieri! Tenete a mente lo schiavo straziato! […] Spiriti che troneggiate! voi che avete spezzato Il giogo in agonia della schiavitù – Voi, che come il turbine siete passati, E i nemici in atomi polverizzati – Voi, che dalle spiagge di San Domingo, La banda britannica avete spazzato via – Voi, guerrieri! voi, che conoscete L’estasi della libertà e la miseria della schiavitù, Dite! Ci inchineremo alle schiere di Bonaparte, O, i nervi saldi, scacceremo i bianchi, assassini.

From those eyes that round me roll,

Wildly flash the indignant soul;

On those rugged brows I see,

Stern unyielding liberty.

Yes! your daring aspects show,

France shall soon repent the blow;

Soon shall famish’d sharks be fed;

Vultures soon shall tear the dead;

Oh glorious hour! now, now, yon fiends defy,

Assert great nature’s cause, live free, or bravely die.

Dagli occhi che intorno a me roteano, L’anima selvaggia indignata lampeggia – Dalle fronti aggrottate io vedo, Severa e indomita, libertà. Sì! Dal vostro fiero aspetto, La Francia presto rimpiangerà l’attacco – Squali famelici troveranno presto nutrimento – E gli avvoltoi dei morti faranno scempio. Ora di gloria! Ora, la sfida ai demoni laggiù è pronta – È causa di natura: viviamo liberi, o con coraggio moriamo.