ROBERT WEDDERBURN, ABOLITION, AND THE COMMONS: ROMANTICISM'S BLACK GEOGRAPHIES by Katey Castellano, Reviewed by Alick McCallum
 


ROBERT WEDDERBURN, ABOLITION, AND THE COMMONS: ROMANTICISM'S BLACK GEOGRAPHIES
By Katey Castellano
(Cambridge, 2024) 1 + 211 pp.
Reviewed by Alick McCallum on 2026-01-06.

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Editorial Note: This forms the second part of Alick McCallum's pair of reviews, following upon Ryan Hanley's own scholarship on Robert Wedderburn: Black Insurrectionary, Jamaican Abolitionist.

While Hanley writes as a historian, Castellano writes as a literary critic. Her monograph approaches Wedderburn as an author and "political theorist who brought distinctly African-Caribbean knowledge to his lower-class audiences in London" (13). She argues that reading Wedderburn as a theorist with the seriousness he deserves can expand our repertoire for reading and identifying counternarratives within Romantic texts.

In the early nineteenth century, many British radicals endorsed Thomas Spence's formula of natural rights: people are born into a state of natural sovereignty, through which they have an automatic and equal claim to common lands. Political self-possession is a given, but the vitality of life can be eroded or taken away through separation from the land. Accordingly, when Wedderburn wrote in Axe, "mind and keep possession of the land you now possess as slaves; for without that, freedom is not worth possessing" (82), some early scholars concluded that he merely rearticulated "orthodox Spencean ideology" (Worrall 129), with "little in the way of original political theory" (McCalman 25). Indeed, like Spence, Wedderburn understood that without freedom there is no world. And without connection to land there is no world to live freely in. But whereas Spenceanism took for granted not only the right to freedom but a de-facto possession of it, as a formerly enslaved man born of enslaved maternal ancestors, Wedderburn understood that even as a right among people, freedom still had to be actively possessed. Land is important to Wedderburn not simply because it is a natural right, but because, for him, it is where freedom must be communally produced.

Castellano cuts to the chase: "Wedderburn's ideas did not derive from a Spencean 'directive.' Instead, Wedderburn traded in Spencean rhetoric to instruct his white, lower-class readers in London about the radical potential within African-Jamaican practices of insurrectionary land and food reclamation" (25). Castellano terms these practices "Black abolitionist geographies" (11), characteristic of the provision grounds and Maroon territories where enslaved and free Black people "cultivated intergenerational polycultures (against plantation monoculture) by growing sweet potatoes, cassava, maize, taro, plantains, pigeon peas, and other vegetables" (27). Black abolitionist geographies are central to Castellano's framing of Wedderburn as a theorist of the commons. This is because, as relations to land held in common by Africans who were themselves legally reduced and reducible to property, Black abolitionist geographies were antithetical to private ownership and incongruous with the British liberal freedoms that white abolitionists imagined extending to the Caribbean.

As Castellano frequently makes clear, however, Wedderburn was not principally writing to abolitionists. He was, instead, publishing penny pamphlets that typically passed around radical circles. It's with this framing that Castellano argues "Wedderburn not only integrated Black resistance to slavery with working-class radicalism but also championed Black thought and practices as models for the English lower classes" (30). Chapters 1 and 2 read Wedderburn's Axe and Horrors as instilling Black ecological sensibilities into the British radical vernacular. Chapters 2 and 3 place Wedderburn in conversation with other Black British authors of the long eighteenth century and thereby clarify what makes him unique: he was writing not for the sake of legislative reform but to foster transracial and trans-Atlantic solidarity between proletarian insurrectionists. And in Chapters 4, 5, and 6, Castellano applies Wedderburn's Black abolitionist geographies to reappraise a plethora of white-authored travel narratives, natural histories, and pro- and antislavery political writings of the Romantic period.

Castellano's discussion of kinship practices across The Horrors of Slavery and Mary Prince's The History of Mary Prince is exemplary of her innovative reading strategies. In Chapter 1, the author has already contrasted the carceral logic of capitalism to the alternative agricultural practices of the provision grounds and Maroon settlements. And in Chapter 2, she has established how Wedderburn's uncensored pamphlets allowed him to castigate his father's participation in the depravities of slavery, a topic considered too "unrespectable" for most other abolitionist texts. By Chapter 3, then, Castellano can respond to Jenny Sharpe's question: "How can we read the slave narrative as a record of what the slave could not speak into being or was obliged to forget?" (qtd. 64). Castellano proposes that "potential and partial answers...can be found intertextually" (64). By reading Wedderburn's celebration of his mother and grandmother alongside Prince's notoriously "mediated[,] transcribed and edited" text (64), Castellano allows each woman's freedom practices to illuminate the others'. Recurrent acts of petit marronage, quarrels with enslavers inside their own home, flights between plantations to reconnect with kin, negotiations for the manumission of a son (Wedderburn) at the cost of a mother's (Rosanna's) sale: together these "place-based liberation strategies" (64) map what Castellano calls "abolitionist geographies of kinship" (64). While the fragmentary nature of slavery's archives preclude, as Saidiya Hartman teaches, the recovery of "precarious lives which are visible only in the moment of their disappearance" (12), narrative records of Mary Prince, Rosanna, and Talkee Amy can help in the retelling of each other's own uncompleted story.

Intertextuality is also a central feature of Castellano's final three chapters. Castellano moves backward and forward in time to situate Wedderburn in a genealogy of Black ecological thinkers. Collectively, they reveal a transhistorical anxiety about the "superabundance" of Black abolitionist geographies in texts by white authors--Matthew Gregory Lewis's Journal of a West India Proprietor (discussed in Chapter 4), R. C. Dallas's History of the Maroons, J. G. Stedman's Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition, William Blake's accompanying illustrations (Chapter 5), Joseph Sturge and Thomas Harvey's The West Indies in 1837, and Thomas Carlyle's "Occasional Discourse on the Negro Question" (Chapter 6). All these authors question the future of Black freedom on account of the incommensurability of Black agrarian practices with European individualism, private property, and wage labor. Since "British colonizers associated subsistence with pumpkins with Black independence from wage labor," (106), the most consistent threat to colonial capitalism was not overt rebellion so much as "the success of the Black ecological project: the botanical and animal ecologies of the provision grounds" (22).

In sum, Castellano's monograph has a lot to do with what J.T. Roane calls "Black holes"-- visions "of social life, vitality, and cosmological integrity [which] through the refusal to be seen, hiding in plain sight, or doing things beyond the reach of surveillance enslaved Black people opened critical and sometimes strategic gaps in the cartography of mastery" (Roane 247-249). Castellano explores Wedderburn's writing as a critical aperture on the insurgent Black ecologies that are reflected throughout, without being captive to, the colonial texts in which they are embedded. In making her intervention, Castellano also brings Black women in the colonial archives and in Wedderburn's writing specifically to the fore. Their "place-based liberation strategies" trouble the masculinity of the white abolitionist narrative. By reading Wedderburn from this vantage point, Castellano therefore brings Black feminist methods and archives urgently to bear on Romantic texts more broadly.

Castellano's choice to eschew spy reports makes for a curious contrast with Hanley's reliance on them, as well as on sometimes sensational newspaper reports, to tell Wedderburn's story. As problematically mediated as spy reports are, they nevertheless remain the primary archival record by which we can register Wedderburn in his element as a debater. There is, however, an important distinction between turning to surveillance records for the sake of historiography and taking them as texts suited for literary analysis. Future work on Wedderburn might grapple fruitfully with this distinction. The ecological imagery logged in such documents ("vipers [sucking] the blood of the poor innocent Blacks," "leaves of certain trees [healing] wounds," "oysters [jumping] off the tree...in Jamaica") might especially help expand Castellano's field-defining arguments about Wedderburn's Black abolitionist geographies.

Alick McCallum is a PhD student in English at Rutgers University.

Works Cited