Exploring Fictional Portrayals of the Haitian Revolution
As a literary and intellectual historian, I have spent a large part of my career focusing on how fictional portrayals affected the way that people living in the 18th and 19th centuries understood the Haitian Revolution (1791-1804).
In the pre-twentieth century, for ill or for good, a lot of people learned history from reading historical novels. An analogous example is how people often learn (or at least think they do) about big historical events from watching movies, like Amistad or Saving Private Ryan or Schindlerās List.
Haitians gave us the tools to understand what undergirded both the colonial system and the terrible regime of slavery: racism and white supremacy.
And in my first book, Tropics of Haiti (2015), I tried to identify patterns in fictional writings that led to distinctly traceable (and highly racialized) representations of the Haitian Revolution in historical writings. While I have remained interested in this questionāin 2022, I published Haitian Revolutionary Fictions: An Anthology with GrĆ©gory Pierrot and Marion Rohrleitner, which is a massive publication containing excerpts of more than 200 fictional writings about the RevolutionāI have also always been attracted to studying lives.
Unveiling Jean-Louis Vastey and Black Atlantic Humanism
In my second book, Baron de Vastey and the Origins of Black Atlantic Humanism (2017), I turned to studying one of early nineteenth-century Haitiās most prolific and understudied authors: Jean-Louis Vastey (1781-1820), who was made a baron in the Kingdom of Haiti in 1814 and served as one of the most prominent secretaries of Haitiās first and only king, Henry Christophe (1767-1820).

During his life Vastey published at least eleven book-length works within a span of only 6 years (1814-1820). My literary biography of him traces how his oeuvre, which includes the first full-length history of the Haitian Revolution written by a Haitian, contributed to anti-racist, anti-slavery, and anti-colonial thought, leading the way in a tradition of Black Atlantic Humanism that also includes Phillis Wheatley, Maria Stewart, Frederick Douglass, W.E.B. Du Bois, Frantz Fanon, AimƩ CƩsaire, and Toni Morrison.
The freedom from slavery that Haitians instantiated as aĀ humanĀ right still lives on today.
I took up the themes of Haitiās contributions to anti-racist, anti-slavery, and anti-colonial thought in a more systematic way in Awakening the Ashes: An Intellectual History of the Haitian Revolution (2023).
With this book, I really wanted to show how the Haitian Revolution unfolded through Haitian eyes, on the one hand, and to explore the political logics the revolutionaries developed to drive it forward in their quest for freedom from slavery and independence from France, on the other hand.
The book examines the writings of the revolutionaries themselves like Julien Raimond, Toussaint Louverture, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, and Henry Christophe, but it also looks at how nineteenth-century Haitian historians made sense of the Revolution in the long wake of its aftermath in independent Haiti.
I follow the story of the revolution and independence beginning with the resistance of the indigenous population of 15th-century Ayiti (renamed Hispaniola by Christopher Columbus) and how the freedom-fighters of Saint-Domingue (as Haiti was called under French rule in the 17th and 18th centuries) took inspiration from the struggle of those they called āthe first Haitians.ā
Haitiās Foundational Role in Anti-Racism and Human Rights
When Haitians declared their official independence from France on January 1, 1804, they renamed the island HaĆÆti, after its indigenous appellations, Ayiti, and independent Haiti subsequently became the first country to permanently abolish slavery and the slave trade.
What is less well known than even this often-ignored fact is that Haitians banned colonialism and imperialism in their first constitution, and that in 1807, the Haitian government, through the editor of northern Haitiās official newspaper, Juste Chanlatte, put out the first statements of any country in the world declaring slavery and the slave trade crimes against humanity.
The Haitian writer Baron de Vastey also coined the term white supremacy in 1814, long before it appears in any Spanish, French (from France), or English language text, and the writer and historian Charles HƩrard-Dumesle coined the term racism in 1824. The freedom from slavery that Haitians instantiated as a human right still lives on today, when we trace the links between the transatlantic abolitionist movement in the 19th century and modern human rights, for example, but Haitians also gave us the tools to understand what undergirded both the colonial system and the terrible regime of slavery: racism and white supremacy.
Re-examining the Life of Henry Christophe
My newest book, a biography called The First and Last King of Haiti: The Rise and Fall of Henry Christophe (Knopf, January 2025), might seem like a true divergence from my prior writing.

I pursue what is in some ways a fairly traditional cradle to grave biography, but one that also has implications for how biographies are written: I take the reader behind the scenes and let them know what all the conflicting accounts say, holding back judgment, since in many cases it is impossible to make an objective decision about who was right.
Ā I also further elaborate on Christopheās radical influence over Haitian revolutionary and post-revolutionary political ideasā indeed, both Chanlatte and Vastey published under the state press created by Christophe to combat racist and stereotypical portrayals of Haiti, on the one hand, and to spread anti-slavery, anti-racist, and anti-colonial ideals across the world, on the other.
Instead of focusing on his life, I could have turned to discussing fictional representations of Christophe, which are legion and mostly reflect demonization of him.
From Fiction to Reality: Depictions of Christophe
In fact, I begin the biography with a prologue that has a highly literary quality to it, in that I discuss the many, many attempts to portray Christopheās life on the page and the stage from the nineteenth-century to the present.
I take readers from British author J.H. Amherstās Christophe, King of Hayti, staged in Londonās Coburg Theatre throughout the 1820s, to the Black playwright William Edgar Eastonās Christophe, a Tragedy (1911), which starred Henrietta Vinton Davis, to Rex Ingramās portrayal of the Haitian king in William Duboisās Haiti: A Drama of the Black Napoleon, to Orson Wellesās 1936 staging of Macbeth with an all-Black cast that Welles says was inspired by Christopheās life and which earned the production the nickname āVoodoo Macbeth,ā to more recent attempts to stage his life by Derek Walcott (1950) and AimĆ© CĆ©saire (1963).
If we hope to understand Christopheās life and death, we must ultimately turn away from the fictional portrayals.
Of course, the author who most infamously tried to fictionalize Christopheās life was the Swiss-born Cuban author Alejo Carpentier, whose highly popular novel The Kingdom of this World (originally published in Spanish in 1949) has led to a generation of people who continue to encounter Christopheās story, but who often seem to confuse fiction for history after reading Carpentierās completely invented portrait of the Haitian king.
But what I try to make clear to readers at the outset of the book by first introducing them to the vast fictional corpus of representations of Christopheāone that also includes John Vandercookās Black Majesty (1928) and a 1983 Mexican comic book inspired by it called Fuego: Majestad negra, distributed all over Latin Americaā is that if we hope to understand Christopheās life and death, we must ultimately turn away from the fictional portrayals.
Honoring a Complex Legacy: Writing Christopheās Biography
Honoring the story of someoneās life by writing their biography is not just about describing what they did, where they went, where they came from and who they knew, and calling it the truth.
 It also means trying to figure out what motivated that person; it means trying to locate what they hoped and dreamed for; it means trying to understand what caused them pain and what caused them joy; it means describing both their successes and their failures. Influenced by the ideas of Arlette Farge in The Allure of the Archives, I felt a responsibility to try to understand Christophe beyond caricature and cliché, as a real human person, who was not larger than life.
I wanted to get to the heart of his experiences as a child and as a revolutionary, to his role as a father, a husband, and a friend, and ultimately, to the complicated story of how he became king. This meant consulting the numerous forms of writing he left behind and those of his family, his friends, and even his enemies and political rivals.
Neither hagiography nor villainization, neither lionization nor an apology, I take readers through the twisting and winding fate of a man most likely enslaved at birth, separated from his mother at a young age, who participated in two revolutions āthe American Revolution at the Battle of Savannah at age twelve and the Haitian Revolutionā and whose wholly unlikely path to leadership led him to have it all and then lose it all.
A lot of things had to happen to create the circumstances for Christophe to become Haitiās first and last king āthe man who oversaw construction of Haitiās famous Citadelle LaferriĆØre, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and the largest fortress in North America, which has been widely hailed āthe eighth wonder of the worldāā but to get to those stories, youāll have to read the book.