Featuring: Larry Kenneth Alexander
Transcript:
As the dust settled at the close of the American Revolution, a reality confronted America. This reality ignited a fierce battle of principles and exposed the contradictions at America’s founding. The year was 1783, and the Treaty of Paris had ended hostilities and established the terms for peace between Britain and the United States. Among these terms was a pledge to liberate all captured prisoners held by each other. Yet, when British General Guy Carleton arrived to discuss the matter, he mentioned that he expected freedom for Black and white Englishmen alike because all were British subjects under English law.
Standing across from Carleton was the father of our country, General George Washington, who bristled at Carleton’s statement. He argued that Black colonials, long treated as property in America, were not British subjects entitled to liberty based upon colonial slave codes. But Carleton stood firm. He reminded Washington that slave codes were not codified laws and, in violating colonial charters, were void ab initio. Further, he indicated Parliament’s legislative abolishment of all colonial slave codes in 1766 and America’s concession that these valuable laws were abolished in the Declaration of Independence. Thus, Black colonials had birthright subjecthood, regardless of colonial America’s customs and colonial statutes.
General Carleton made it plain to Washington: no clause in the Treaty of Paris abandoned Britain’s commitment to the liberation of Black colonial subjects. His loyalty was not just to Britain’s imperial honor but to the policies that had inspired enslaved men and women to join British ranks, hoping for freedom. Washington was dismayed. Carleton was resolute. In his eyes, the promises of freedom made to Black colonials under British rule could not be discarded. He was determined to evacuate all Black men, women, and children who were British subjects from the United States when the British withdrew.
But even here, Carleton knew the risks. He acknowledged that removing these Black subjects might lead to a claim from the U.S. for compensation. To safeguard against this, he proposed a meticulous record-keeping process of recording each Black person being evacuated in two separate registries. Thus, the Book of Negroes was born—a registry of names, ages, occupations, and even the names of former masters—to ensure that, if challenged, the British government would fulfill any financial obligations that arose. Carleton’s record lists 3,000 Black colonials freed from American soil. At the same time, Washington’s own version, the Counterpart Registry, preserved a list of the same names for Americans who still claimed their former slaves as property under colonial slave codes.
These registries, the two Book of Negroes, are more than ledgers of names. They are a testament to a moment in history when the British and American visions of freedom clashed. Carleton’s book resides today in the British National Archives in London. Washington’s version remains here at the U.S. National Archives. Together, they stand as a dual record, a lasting reminder that the struggle for liberty is complex, fraught with contradictions, and at times profoundly at odds with our ideals.
This moment of history forces us to confront America’s founding paradox—a country ignoring the rule of law and international norms. For those 500,000 Black men and women stranded in the United States, the ideals of liberty were not empty words. And so, as we reflect on this history, may we remember that our nation’s struggle for liberty did not end in 1783. It is an ongoing call to honor the full measure of freedom, to confront our past with integrity, and to work toward a future where the promise of liberty rings true for all.
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