A Revolutionary Canon: how Phillis Wheatley stepped out of line to take her place in history

“When you experience bitterness, put your faith in all those who still work for good: in their humility lies the seed of a new world.”

—Pope Francis

The truth is a provocative thing. It's often an agitator to the willfully purblind. Yet, history shows there are always those brave souls who deliberately step out of line to speak truth to power. Phillis Wheatley (c. 1753–Dec. 5, 1784) was one of those provocateurs. She was the first African American (and the second woman in North America) to publish a book. As a woman and a person of color she had much to lose by publicly stating the truth. But her refusal to "know her place" was a measure of her courage and integrity, just as her ability to put her broad white readership at ease was testimonial to her intellectual brilliance and writing prowess.

Wheatley couched her message of racial injustice within adroitly crafted verse—the ataraxia being that while chiding the nation for the enslavement of a race, she celebrated America. She was, in fact, very patriotic. She embraced the Revolutionary cause wholeheartedly. With talk of individuals' rights swirling about, she envisioned a new and "more perfect" government extending its ideology universally. After all, as an individual wasn't she (and everyone) entitled to the same things—agency, autonomy, and independence? Phillis recognized this time of political upheaval as a moment of opportunity, one that offered a chance to achieve inclusion, and by extension, extinguish slavery.

Using both her intellect and emotional intelligence, Phillis, was able to gauge the right amount of truth-telling the public was willing to tolerate. As she moved from childhood into young adulthood her acclaim grew, and her message became more intrepid. Phillis wasn't expressly calling for the end to slavery, she was comprehensively advocating for social justice. Driven by her deeply religious convictions, Phillis evangelized her overt commentaries on slavery to appeal to her Christian audience:

I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate Was snatch'd from Afric's fancy'd happy seat: What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows labour in my parent's breast? Steel'd was that soul and by no misery mov'd That from a father seiz'd his babe belov'd: Such, such my case. And can I then but pray Others may never feel tyrannic sway? (excerpt)

But her critics stood at the ready to prevent her admission into the annals of history. From Thomas Jefferson writing that her poems were "below the dignity of criticism", to twentieth century literary scholars suggesting she suffered from Uncle Tom's Syndrome, they neglected to view her work contextually, and framed a narrative that was dismissive of her talents and her importance. But, the truth is also a persistent thing, and, time, if nothing else, is patient. Vindication would eventually prevail.

Image: "The Door of No Return", (Gorée Island, Dakar, Senegal, West Africa, artizan3.tumblr.com

Beginning in 1776, millions of Africans passed through this very door to board slave ships that took them on perilous journey across the Atlantic. If they survived the passage, lives of endless bondage awaited them.

Phillis Wheatley was born in Senegal/Gambia, where she was captured by a local chief, sold into slavery, then transported to Massachusetts in 1761. By the time she arrived in Boston more than a month later she was so frail the ship's captain sought to sell her immediately "for a trifle" before she might die. John Wheatley, a wealthy and prominent Boston businessman, purchased her for his wife, Susanna, to be her personal servant; she was selected from among all the other females because her demeanor was particularly humble and reticent. Based upon her missing front teeth it was determined she was around seven or eight years old. They named her after the slave ship that had brought her to New England, and as was typical, gave her their last name, claiming her as their possession and permanently expunging her birth name from history.

When little Phillis stepped off that ship onto the docks of Boston Harbor she was frangible and naked, save for a dirty carpet that was wrapped around her waist (indicators of her horrific transatlantic crossing). This image is difficult to square then with the celebrity status she would begin to achieve in just a few short years. More so, that she would become the founding parent of the African American literary tradition within a decade is extraordinary.

Shortly after her arrival, Phillis quickly learned to speak English, and the Wheatleys, along with their teenaged twins, Nathaniel and Mary, soon recognized her intelligence. The family began to cultivate her intellect by tutoring Phillis in reading and writing, and other academic instruction (a highly unorthodox practice). Within sixteen months, she was reading Greek and Latin classics, and able to interpret complex Bible passages.

A religious energy prevailed in colonial Boston as indicated by the population's 80% church attendance rate. Susanna Wheatley, like many of her peers, was a pious woman who was swept up in the Great Awakening, a progressive religious movement; by extension, she also belonged to several charitable aid societies. Susanna's spirituality was the centerpiece of her life, and she was an active member of the "Old South Meetinghouse", a prominent Congregational church. Access to sacred scripture was deemed the birthright of Protestantism, therefore, literacy was driven by one's ability to read the Bible, and Boston's white population enjoyed a literacy rate of nearly 100% in the 1700s. Mrs. Wheatley would have been well acquainted with Bible verse and contemplated it deeply.

Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the Kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.

See that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that their angels in heaven always look upon the face of my heavenly Father. (Mt 18)

Rather than a bond servant, Phillis became more of a constant companion to Susanna. She was discouraged from associating with the servants in the home, and relieved of strenuous domestic duties. As her marvelous intellect developed, the Wheatley's often displayed Phillis to their guests, having her recite both poetry and biblical verse, and sing hymns during drawing room performances, all the while keeping her at arm's length within their social circles.

"Maybe it’s time to just scrap the word “racist.” Find something new. Like Racial Disorder Syndrome. And we could have different categories for sufferers of this syndrome: mild, medium, and acute."

—Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Americanah (Forth Estate, 2013)

At the age of thirteen, Phillis's poem “On Messrs. Hussey and Coffin,” was submitted by Mrs. Wheatley to the Newport, RI, Mercury, where it appeared in 1767; its publication brought Phillis great notoriety. The following year, a second poem, "To the University of Cambridge, in New England" was published widely around the colonies. In it, she makes note of both her race and the urgency of renouncing sin, leveraging that human bondage is an impediment to heaven:

"An Ethiop tells you ’tis your greatest foe."

The Wheatleys continued to champion her talents, and in 1772, when Phillis was about nineteen, the family began searching for a publisher of her poetry collection. Even though the Wheatleys testified to her authorship, they were met with little encouragement and less interest from local publishers, so they devised a plan to search outside the colonies.

This initiative began with the assembly of eighteen elite men of Boston society whom Phillis, along with her writings were brought before. Most of them were Harvard men and slaveholders. She was subjected to a lengthy inquiry as though she was on trial, because that's what it would take to be taken seriously. On the surface, the objective of the examination was to verify authorship, but beneath it loomed a larger debate: "was it possible for a Negro to create literature"? Phillis had to humble herself before these fellow bright minds, these great thinkers and politicians, who were, themselves, purblind to her vast intelligence. After much deliberation they were left with no other conclusion: Phillis Wheatley, indeed, had produced these verses. They provided her a signatory letter stating:

"AS it has been repeatedly suggested to the Publisher, by Persons, who have seen the Manuscript, that Numbers would be ready to suspect they were not really the Writings of PHILLIS, he has procured the following Attestation, from the most respectable Characters in Boston, that none might have the least Ground for disputing their Original.

WE whose Names are under-written, do assure the World, that the POEMS specified 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 qualified to write them

His Excellency THOMAS HUTCHINSON, Governor

The Hon. ANDREW OLIVER, Lieutenant-Governor

The Hon. Thomas Hubbard

The Hon. John Erving

The Hon. James Pitts

The Hon. Harrison Gray

The Hon. James Bowdoin

John Hancock, Esq

Joseph Green, Esq

Richard Carey, Esq

The Rev. Charles Chauncey, D. D.

The Rev. Mather Byles, D. D.

The Rev. Ed. Pemberton, D. D.

The Rev. Andrew Elliot, D. D.

The Rev. Samuel Cooper, D. D.

The Rev. Mr. Samuel Mather

The Rev. Mr. John Moorhead

Mr. John Wheatley, her Master

N. B. The original Attestation, signed by the above Gentlemen, may be seen by applying to Archibald Bell, Bookseller, No. 8, Aldgate-Street."

With this document in hand (and the Wheatley's verbal promise Phillis would be freed upon her return to Boston), Nathaniel brought Phillis to England in July of 1773. They hoped England's more favorable attitudes towards black slaves would prove fruitful to their goal. Their search for a publisher ended when Archibald Bell, London's premiere book seller/printer, agreed to release "Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral". The book included a foreword by John Hancock, a portrait of Phillis, and a preface by the author that reads as a self-effacing apology for the presentation of her scant talents assembled in her free time; all this necessary to assuage an apprehensive public.

Image: frontispiece, first edition, from the collection of Museum of the American Revolution, Philadelphia, PA.

But, alas, the thirty eight-poem collection was met with instant success! Phillis was claimed as the toast of the British empire and the pride of the colonies. All at once she was paraded as a curiosity to society and embraced as a poster child of the burgeoning anti-slavery movement. She met many luminaries, including, Benjamin Franklin who had been staying in London at the time as an emissary for colonial interests. Even an audience with King George III was arranged. But, by far, the most intriguing boon of her visit was the Mansfield Ruling of 1772. It was a recently enacted law that protected any enslaved person brought from the colonies to England from being forcibly returned to the colonies. England was a precarious place for slave owners like John Wheatley: there, Phillis possessed the right to choose her freedom.

Extraordinary as this all was, it was not to last. Within a few weeks of her propitious arrival in London, Phillis's mistress, Mrs. Wheatley, fell gravely ill and summoned her back to Boston immediately. Faced with guaranteed manumission if she stayed in England or the possibility of emancipation if she returned to Boston, Phillis chose the latter. The decision was perhaps made out of a deep devotion to Susanna Wheatley. Regardless of what precipitated her decision, Phillis's hasty departure from England became a watershed moment in her life.

Upon her return, Phillis entreated the ship's captain to assure the cargo of her books would be forwarded onto the Wheatley's address and not distributed to booksellers who she would then have to split the profits with. She also signed the copies to help further increase her financial advantage—her incredible business acumen on full display.

While nursing Mrs. Wheatley in the fall of 1773, Phillis was finally manumitted by John Wheatley, and he allowed her to remain in his household. Mrs. Wheatley's health continued to deteriorate, and she eventually died the following year. Phillis continued compiling new poems for a second book as she persevered to sell the remaining copies of her first. Meanwhile, the Wheatleys, who supported the Revolution, shifted their energies and attention to that cause, which dominated the region. In 1775, as the Siege of Boston wore on, Phillis composed the poem, "His Excellency General Washington", a paean she artfully sent to Washington during his encampment around Boston.

Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side, Thy ev'ry action let the Goddess guide. A crown, a mansion, and a throne that shine, With gold unfading, WASHINGTON! Be thine. (excerpt)

"His Excellency General Washington" advances two ideas: the effusive nomination of Washington as "king" for a new nation, and the subtle proposition of social equality for all. By conflating these two aspects Wheatley brought forth a new national identity. Thusly, author and University of Maryland English professor, Vincent Carretta (whose specialty includes authors of African decent), declared Phillis Wheatley the "unofficial Poet Laureate" of the nation-to-be in his 2011 biography of her. In stark contrast, when Washington responded to Phillis in February of 1776, instead of addressing her as "Miss Wheatley" he chose to use her forename (as he would have referred to any one of his slaves). Even so, angling for acclaim, Washington saw to it that the poem was published in the Virginia Gazette in April by an intermediary to avoid appearing self-aggrandizing. Washington inadvertently helped promote Phillis's equality agenda (a concept he would have deeply disdained) by advancing his ambition with the tool she had purposely provided him with.

The two may have possibly met the following month when Washington passed through Providence during a two night stay on his march to engage the British in New York. Phillis had fled to Providence earlier in the year with Mary and her husband, Reverend John Lathrop (whom she had married in 1771), as the ongoing British occupation caused a major exodus out of the city. As Boston's population fell from over 15,000 to less than 3,000, businesses moved out, further crippling commerce, and resulting in severely austere living conditions. Whether she was personally received or just a bystander in the crowd is unknown, but it is highly plausible Phillis Wheatley at least saw Washington during her exile in Rhode Island.

The Revolution-era economy found the wealth of many in New England precariously reduced, as the region continued to slide deeper into an economic recession. In early 1778 John Wheatley died, and his estate transferred to his daughter, Mary (his son, Nathaniel, who had married in 1773, and was living in England at the time, already owned a majority share of his father's business interests). Even though it appeared the family had treated Phillis "like family", John's will made no provision for her. Then, later that same year, Mary, died. Upon her death, the estate reverted to her husband. With Phillis's small net of support all but gone, she wed John Peters, a free black man, in late 1778. Reverend Lathrop, whom Phillis considered a kindred soul, presided over the nuptials. At the time, Peters was a grocer, and had been, among many other things, a lawyer and a physician. He was described as intelligent and gentlemanly.

Over the next several years their enterprises did not succeed well enough to provide them a stable household, With the region now plunged into a depression, John's debtors could not pay him, and in turn, John could not pay his debtors. In 1783, the Wheatley family unit ended with the passing of Nathaniel. Phillis tried to publish a second volume of poetry but with the Wheatleys gone, and her illustrious contacts greatly diminished (including most of the signatories), securing a publisher eluded her, once again. In a single year alone she attempted six times to find a publisher but was not successful. The place and time in which she lived was filled will strife at every turn. Although she had attained freedom she was not availed an equal opportunity to achieve independence.

“...The straitjackets of race prejudice and discrimination do not wear only southern labels. The subtle, psychological technique of the North has approached in its ugliness and victimization of the Negro the outright terror and open brutality of the South.”

—Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Why We Can’t Wait (Beacon Press, 2011)

The following year, in an effort to increase profits, John Peters sought to expand his grocery business and petitioned the courts to allow him a liquor license, but the request was denied; subsequently, he was sentenced to debtors' prison. At the time, Phillis was pregnant with their third child (two other children had not survived infancy), and John's imprisonment left her without a reliable source of income. She did publish the poem "Liberty and Peace" in a pamphlet, and despite her dire circumstances, the verse suggests she remained optimistically patriotic.

Britannia owns her Independent Reign, Hibernia, Scotia, and the Realms of Spain; And Great Germania’s ample Coast admires The generous Spirit that Columbia fires. Auspicious Heaven shall fill with fav’ring Gales, Where e’er Columbia spreads her swelling Sails: To every Realm shall Peace her Charms display, And Heavenly Freedom spread her gold Ray. (excerpt)

It was, however, not enough to improve her fortunes. Desperately alone and subsisting on next to nothing, Phillis began working as a scullery maid at a boarding house (arduous work she had never performed). She delivered a baby boy, and was forced to return to work shortly thereafter. In her weakened, postpartum state, she was unable to rally her strength; she died during John's incarceration on December 5, 1784, followed later that day by her newborn son. Mother and child were laid to rest together at Copp's Hill Burying Ground in an unmarked grave. Phillis was 31.

Her husband managed to stabilize his economic situation a decade after Phillis's death. However, the manuscript for Phillis's second book had been loaned to a friend prior to her death, and John was never able to recover it (the collection remains lost to this day). He did eventually own a house, but by the end of his life, debt, once again, surpassed his assets. John Peters died in 1801, intestate, at the age of 55 (twice the life expectancy of an enslaved or free black man).

"I long for the time when War and Slavery come to an end; when, not only every sect of Christianity, but when Jews and Gentiles, when all the Nations of Men on the face however differing in colour, and in other circumstances, shall embrace as Brethren Children of one common Father and members of one great Family. "

—Rev. John Lathrop (Boston, c. 1790)

With renewed interest in her work after her death, Phillis's book was published in the United States for the first time in 1786. Although her popularity has ebbed and flowed over the centuries, since 1767, Phillis Wheatley's work has never ceased to be in publication (as recent as 2019, "The Writings of Phillis Wheatley", by Vincent Carretta, was released). She has been viewed through countless lenses, which have lauded, dismissed, accused, and venerated her.

In the end, a revolution, economic instability, death, systemic oppression, and the distant rumblings of a future civil war all eventually conspired against Phillis, ultimately short circuiting her dreams, and, eventually, her life. She died still believing in an America that could include all people equally among its body politic. Thankfully, through her words, her intent defiantly persists to this day—bequeathed to those of a generation as "the seed of a new world".

"Could a greater miracle take place than for us

to look through each other's eyes for an instant?"

—Henry David Thoreau

Image: Meredith Bergmann, Boston Women's Memorial (detail),

Phillis Wheately, 2003, courtesy of the artist.

On being brought from Africa to America

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. Some view our sable race with scornful eye, "Their colour is a diabolic dye." Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain, May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.

Take a stroll through Boston's Women's Memorial