This blog post is written by Desirée Baptiste, a London based writer and researcher, and author of the 2023 play: Incidents in the Life of an Anglican Slave, Written by Herself that was performed at the Library during the Enslavement: Voices from the Archives exhibition earlier in the year.
“August the fourth, 1723” is how she begins.
Or he. No one knows, as the enslaved Virginian author is anonymous, one of several mysteries associated with this fascinating letter whose home, for some 70 years, has been the Church of England archives at Lambeth Palace Library. Today, the letter (FP XVII ff. 167-168) celebrates its 300th birthday, penned, as it was, over several weeks beginning August 4th and ending September 8th, 1723, whenever the enslaved author found time, amidst full days toiling in a Virginia field. He/she has, the letter reveals: “no other time but Sunday, and hardly that at some times.”
I use the word ‘celebrate’ deliberately, as, despite the author’s sad circumstances (“I am but a poor slave that writ it”) what shines through, for me, is what this epistolary act signifies: a reclaiming, by the author, of his/her confiscated humanity in a bold gesture of individuation and defiance. Writing was forbidden to the enslaved of the British Empire. In Virginia, such an infraction was punishable by dismemberment or even death, as, a fully literate enslaved person posed a threat to the slave-system. Such an individual could forge a travel certificate, or a freedom pass. As I describe it in my 2023 play: ‘Incidents in the Life of an Anglican Slave, Written by Herself’, which was inspired by the 1723 letter:
Slave owners knew a most dangerous thing
Was a slave with even the littlest ink… ling
Towards parchment and quill
For he could deliver freedom, his own, with the will
Some in British America did deliver their own freedom. In the mid-18th century 62 percent of Chesapeake runaways could both read and write (some would have died trying). The enslaved Virginian letter-writer chose anonymity (“my name is Secrett”) for good reason. As the letter’s chilling final sentence reveals, if caught, he/she could: “Swing upon the gallass tree”. There are more mysteries. Was the letter really meant for the Bishop of London (Edmund Gibson), as had long been thought? The addressee, in the author’s hand: “my Lord arch Bishop of London” speaks to a title which does not exist. In 2021, when I first interacted with the actual 1723 document up close, in the LPL reading room (I first learned of it years earlier, via a scholarly article) I noticed the word “arch”, sitting quietly before “Bishop of London”. Could the letter have been meant for the Archbishop of Canterbury (who lives in London, at Lambeth Palace), I thought? The Library agreed that this was a possibility, which led to a catalogue change, opening up a fuller understanding of the Virginian’s intention. He/she may well have been aiming the letter at the highest office-holder of the Church of England!
We don’t know what happened to the Virginian, or how the letter ended up in the Fulham Papers which came to LPL from Fulham Palace in the 1950s. But we do know this: the Virginian’s act of courage sings across the centuries. And the document is one of the most precious to live here at Lambeth, as first-hand written accounts by the enslaved of the British Empire are few, and this is one of the earliest. Something to celebrate, not only today, but in the week in which we commemorate the day in 1838 (August 1st) which saw slavery fully abolished in the British Empire.
Below is a transcript and Audio clip of the 1723 letter being read
Transcript (with spelling modernised) of FP XVII ff. 167-168 by Desirée Baptiste:
August the fourth, 1723, to the Right Reverend Father in God, my Lord Archbishop of London, this comes to satisfy your honour that there is, in this land of Virginia, a sort of people that is called mullattos, which are baptized, and brought up in the way of the Christian faith, and follows the ways and rules of the Church of England, and some of them has white fathers and some white mothers, and there is, in this land, a Law or Act which keeps and makes them and their seed, Slaves Forever.
And most honoured Sir, amongst the rest of your charitable acts and deed, we, your humble and poor parishioners do beg Sir your aid and assistance in this one thing which lies, as I do understand, in your Lordship’s breast, which is that your honour will, by the help of our Sovereign Lord King George and the Rest of the Rulers will:
Release us out of this Cruel Bondage
And this, we beg, for Jesus Christ’s his sake, who has commanded us to seek first the Kingdom of God, and all things shall be added unto us.
And here it is to be noted, that one brother is a slave to another, and one sister to another, which is quite out of the way, and, as for me myself:
I am my brother’s slave, but my name is secret.
And, here it is to be noted again, that we are commanded to keep holy the Sabbath Day and we do hardly know when it comes, for our taskmasters are as hard with us as the Egyptians was with the Children of Israel.
God be merciful on to us.
Here follows our severity, and sorrowful service. We are hard used upon every account.
In the first place, we are in ignorance of our salvation, and in the next place we are kept out of the Church, and matrimony is denied us
And to be plain, they do look no more upon us than if we were dogs, which I hope, when these strange lines comes to your Lordship’s hands, will be looked into.
And here, we beg for Jesus Christ his sake that, as your honour do hope for the mercy of God at the day of death and the Redemption of our Saviour Christ, that when this comes to your Lordship’s hands, your honour will take some pity of us who is your humble but sorrowful petitioners.
And Sir, we, your humble petitioners, do humbly beg the favour of your Lordship, that your honour will grant and settle one thing upon us which is that our children may be brought up in the way of the Christian faith and our desire is that they may be learned the Lord’s Prayer, the creed, and the ten commandments, and that they may appear every Lord’s day at Church, before the curate, to be examined, for our desire is that godliness should abound amongst us, and we desire that our children be put to school and learned to read through the Bible
Which is all, at present, with our prayers to God for its good success before your honour These, from your humble Servants in the Lord
(my writing is very bad, I hope your honour will take the will for the deed)
I am but a poor slave that writ it and has no other time but Sunday, and hardly that at some times
September the eighth, 1723
To the Right Reverend father in God, my Lord Archbishop of London.
These with care
We dare not subscribe any man’s name to this, for fear of our masters, for, if they knew that we have sent home to your honour, we should go near to:
Swing upon the Gallows Tree
Audio clip of the 1723 letter being read by Sydney Sainte from my new play, ‘Incidents in the Life of an Anglican Slave, Written by Herself’ (2023).
A Monument of Fame 