Clarkson waits thirty years to defend the revolution in his own name

Hormann tracks the closing and reopening of British argument about Haiti. Enthusiastic appraisals of the 1791 revolt by British abolitionists appear in 1791 and 1792 and then virtually stop after 1793, in abolitionist and radical writing alike, because members of parliament and the interests behind them recoiled from even discussing the end of the slave trade while it seemed likely to invite a repetition of events in the French colony. Thomas Clarkson, who had written on the revolt anonymously in 1792, mounted a very cautious defence of the Haitian Revolution again only in an essay of this year arguing for gradual emancipation in the British colonies. The chapter treats that thirty year silence as a political effect with datable causes, not as the boundary of what Europeans were capable of thinking.

Felix Darfour was born in western Sudan, taken to France by an officer of the Egyptian expedition, educated and married there, and settled in Haiti in 1818, where the constitution granted nationality to any African who came to live in the country. He founded a newspaper, L'Eclaireur, later renamed L'Avertisseur. On 30 August 1822 a message from him was read to the Chamber of Representatives. It said that Jean-Pierre Boyer favoured foreigners with a monopoly of commerce, that Haitian fortunes could not rise under him, and that the president gave advantages only to men of colour while refusing blacks instruction in order to prove them naturally unfit to govern. Boyer ordered him tried by a military commission on the morning of 31 August. He was sentenced the same day and shot on 2 September in front of the people and the army. Darfour was a civilian tried by soldiers, and the petition itself never entered the case file.

Within fifteen years of Waterloo the British islands produced three risings that rank among the biggest anywhere in the Americas: Barbados in 1816, Demerara in 1823 and Jamaica in 1831. Geggus points out that the timing of each tracked a development in the antislavery movement in Britain, and that each set of rebels called for the enforcement of a freedom law they wrongly took to have passed at home and to be hidden by officials on the spot. He counts over twenty such episodes between 1789 and the early 1830s where the enslaved insisted that a law had already freed them, or had cut their week down to three days of work. He traces the syndrome back to an aborted rising on Martinique in August 1789 and connects it to reform efforts in England, France and Spain that slaveholders publicly resisted.

In 1824 a man named Kinsley shipped a colony of enslaved people from Florida to the north coast of Hispaniola. His plan was to free them by a graduated process meant to run over several years. They saw that freedom was already within reach on the ground where they had landed and asserted it themselves shortly after arrival. They then settled on the banks of the Yasica, a small river crossing the well watered plain east of Puerto Plata, and became a quiet and hard working community. Along that stretch of coast they and their descendants were known for the rest of the century as the Kinsley boys. Fifty years later the land they held passed for the best cultivated and most productive on the island, the staple being sugar cane, to which that soil is well suited. Their case sat alongside a separate settlement of American emigrants of 1824 on the Samana peninsula.