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  On April 30, 1789, George Washington took the oath of office and issued an inaugural address from the balcony of New York’s federal hall. Notably absent from the ceremony was his wife. While the first lady had traveled to see her husband during the American Revolution as he led the colonists in battle against the British, she wanted nothing more than to stay put and resented her husband’s call to public service that was taking them away from their Virginia home.

  For his part, though he had spent a great deal of time separated from his wife over the course of the previous decade, it wasn’t his preference. The new president missed having his wife by his side and began to wonder just how long it would take for Mrs. Washington to arrive in New York. She was, certainly, taking her time. Rather than immediately traveling to New York, she remained at Mount Vernon, attempting to come to grips with the path of her new life, one that would keep her away from her Virginia home for many years. Unsettled and displeased about the move to the nation’s capital, she expressed her discontent to her closest confidants and stalled for time. Even the president’s trusted secretary got involved. On May 3, Tobias Lear wrote to George Augustine, describing the new home on Cherry Street and offering bits of information that might entice Mrs. Washington to hurry along in her journey north. Lear wrote that they had hired “Black Sam as Steward & superintendent of the kitchen, and a very excellent fellow he is in the latter department.” Lear knew that the first lady enjoyed seafood, and so he reported on the culinary wonders performed by the head chef, hoping that it would “hasten her advancing towards New York.” The president’s secretary made it clear that everyone was awaiting the arrival of the first lady; he wrote, “For we are extremely desirous of seeing her here.” In convincing Martha Washington that there was much to look forward to, he had his work cut out for him.

  The slaves at Mount Vernon knew all too well about the displeasure of their mistress and had to add that to their list of concerns. Ona Judge, in particular, one of the favored house slaves, responsible for tending to her mistress’s needs, both emotional and physical, had to balance the first lady’s deep sadness, resentment, and frustration with her own fears about the move.

  The young Ona Judge was far from an experienced traveler. The teenager knew only Mount Vernon and its surroundings and had never traveled far from her family and loved ones. For Judge the move must have been similar to the dreaded auction block. Although she was not to be sold to a different owner, she was forced to leave her family for an unfamiliar destination hundreds of miles away. Judge would have had no choice but to stifle the terror she felt and go on about the work of preparing to move. Folding linens, packing Martha Washington’s dresses and personal accessories, and helping with the grandchildren were the tasks at hand, and it wasn’t her place to complain or question. Judge had to remain strong and steady, if not for herself, then for her mistress who appeared to be falling apart at the seams. Like Judge, Martha Washington had no choice about the move to New York. Her life was at the direction of her husband, who was now the most powerful man in the country. Mrs. Washington and Ona Judge may have shared similar concerns, but of course only Martha Washington was allowed to express discontent and sorrow: Martha Washington was unhappy, and everyone knew it, including her frightened slave.

  The president’s nephew Robert Lewis would also soon be made aware of it. When he arrived at the estate on May 14, things were in disarray. Lewis, who served as Washington’s secretary between 1789 and 1791, was chosen to escort his aunt and her grandchildren to New York but was surprised and a bit concerned when he arrived to find a frenzied and hectic scene. Lewis wrote, “Everything appeared to be in confusion,” the manifestation of Mrs. Washington’s conflicting feelings.

  Robert Lewis described the departure, which finally took place on May 16, 1789, as an emotional moment for the slaves and the first lady:

  “After an early dinner and making all necessary arrangements in which we were greatly retarded it brought us to 3 o’clock in the afternoon when we left Mt. V. The servants of the House, and a number of the field negros made there [sic] appearance—to take leave of their mistress—numbers of these poor wretches seemed greatly agitated, much affected—My Aunt equally so.”

  Betty, Ona Judge’s mother, must have been one of those agitated slaves. Not only was she losing her sixteen-year-old daughter, but she was also losing her son Austin, who would serve as one of the Washingtons’ waiters. Austin’s wife, Charlotte, and their children would have joined in the mourning. Betty watched her children leave Mount Vernon, a reminder of what little control slave mothers had over the lives of their children. If she found any comfort that day, it would have been that brother and sister were traveling together. Austin was older and male and could look out for his younger sister. Still, Betty knew that her relationship with her children would never be the same.

  The grieving mother was not the only slave to wrestle with a feeling of dread at the sight of her mistress’s departure. Every slave on the Mount Vernon estate knew that the order of things was in transition. With George and Martha Washington hundreds of miles away, their lives were now in the hands of George Augustine and the overseers. Would the slaves at Mount Vernon be treated decently? Would the nature of their work change, and if so, how? The uncertainty of life and the involuntary separation of family members reminded every black person at Mount Vernon that the system of slavery rendered them powerless.

  Not everyone was disturbed with the plans for Northern living, however. Traveling north may have also stirred some feelings of hope or excitement in the minds of the slaves who were chosen to accompany the Washingtons. Freedom and opportunity were at play in many Northern states that boasted growing free black populations. News about Northern emancipation reached the information-hungry slave communities of the South, often prompting slaves to risk everything and attempt escape. The commonwealths of Pennsylvania and Massachusetts had already loosened the shackles of slavery through gradual abolition laws, while New York struggled with such decisions. Just a year prior, in 1788, Connecticut and Massachusetts forbade its residents from participating in the slave trade, but New York enacted a new comprehensive slave law, one that kept all slaves currently held in bondage as slaves for the entirety of their lives.

  It is impossible to know how familiar the slaves at Mount Vernon were with the specifics of the changing laws of the North, of one state’s mandate versus another’s, but what is certain is that Judge had witnessed the act of running away. The slaves at Mount Vernon who successfully escaped reminded the bond people who remained that there were alternatives to the dehumanizing experience of slavery. Freedom, of course, was risky, and was never considered without great caution and planning, but perhaps a trip to New York would yield opportunities never imagined by the slaves who lived at Mount Vernon? Maybe life would be better in New York and perhaps they could find their way to freedom? As the slaves pondered what the move to New York might mean for them, they did so subtly. A slave could not appear to be too calculating or strategic, and no one wanted to spook the Washingtons, especially the very fragile Martha Washington.

  The president and his wife were well aware that the practice of slavery was under attack in most of the Northern states. They also knew that though New York’s residents still clung to bound labor, public sentiment regarding African slavery was changing. Unwilling to even think about abandoning the use of black slaves, the president and the first lady were careful in their selection of men and women who traveled with them from Mount Vernon. Their selections involved only those slaves who were seen as “loyal” and therefore less likely to attempt escape. Skills in the art of house service were also a necessity.

  William Lee, the president’s body servant, elbowed his way to the front of the line of the bondmen who would travel north. He was Washington’s number one slave, the valet who knew the president better than any other enslaved person at Mount Vernon. Born circa 1750, William Lee was a teenager when he was purchased by George Washington. Sold
alongside three other slaves, Lee earned the position as butler in part because of his complexion. Believing that interracial slaves were more attractive and intelligent, Washington preferred to buy “yellow-skinned” men and women. Lee was offered fine clothing and learned the art of caring for his master from older, more seasoned house slaves. He would perfect his duty of dressing his master’s hair and preparing his clothing.

  Washington’s manservant also became known for his expertise in riding, an activity much enjoyed by his master. The trusted bondman was noted as a “fearless horseman” who was “sturdy, and of great bone and muscle.” Washington and Lee would ride together several times a week, forming the closest kind of relationship appropriate for a master and slave. Once Washington announced that he would accept the position of president and move to New York, William Lee was determined to go with him. Lee had traveled north once before—albeit to Philadelphia for the Continental Congress, fifteen years earlier, not New York—and good memories must have prompted him to want to return. For it was during his first northern sojourn that Lee found both his voice and love.

  While we know virtually nothing about Lee’s first experience in the North—other than the fact that Washington attired him in new shoes and garments—we can surmise that the trip changed him. Prior to leaving Mount Vernon, members of George and Martha Washington’s family often referred to Lee as “Billy.” Washington frequently listed him as “my boy Billy” in his account books, but Lee returned from the Northern city with a proper name, one that he chose on his own. His master wrote that his enslaved valet began “calling himself William Lee.” Presumably, revolutionary rhetoric and the beginnings of black freedom in the North affected Lee, giving him the impetus to move away from the nickname of “Billy” and to adopt the surname that directly tied him to the plantation on which he was born. Not only did William Lee name himself after that trip to Philadelphia, but in doing so, he openly connected himself to his former owner, whom he must have considered to be his biological father.

  However, it was his meeting and courtship with Margaret Thomas, a free black woman in Philadelphia, that changed Lee’s life. The couple requested that they be kept together, and Margaret Thomas made the odd and dangerous decision to move south with her beloved. Although the marriages of enslaved people were not recognized by the law in Virginia, Washington supposedly granted their request that Thomas be allowed to travel to and live with Lee at Mount Vernon. What happened next is lost. There is no written evidence that Lee and Thomas lived together at Mount Vernon, though as a freewoman she would not have appeared in Washington’s account book. It is possible that she either died or left the marriage. What’s more probable is that Thomas changed her mind about exchanging what little stability she had in Philadelphia for dangerous uncertainty in Virginia. By leaving Philadelphia, Thomas would’ve walked into the mouth of the slave-hungry South, placing her free status in serious jeopardy. In this instance, perhaps, love was not a strong enough pull to compete with freedom. Lee’s chance for love with a freewoman, and a future complete with free heirs, never came to fruition. Still, he was marked by this experience, and he was keen, indeed determined, to travel to New York with his master.

  Lee’s desperate wish to travel to New York was in danger, however, because of his failing health. In April of 1785, Lee was injured during a surveying expedition and “broke the pan of his knee.” Reduced to hobbling around on crutches or a cane, Lee dealt with his constant pain through the consumption of alcohol, and lots of it. Three years later on a cold and snowy day in March, Lee was sent to fetch the mail from Alexandria. During his errand the already disabled slave fell again, this time shattering the other knee. His body was broken, and his usefulness was lost. Lee became somewhat of an invalid, unable to perform any tasks that required him to walk or move. In his late thirties, Lee’s duties shifted to that of a shoemaker, a demotion. Fortunately, Washington felt a sense of closeness with his faithful slave and agreed to bring Lee to New York as a member of his team of slaves, even though he was unable to perform the duties of a respected valet. William Lee, therefore, began the journey to the nation’s capital with the president-elect and his aides Tobias Lear and David Humphreys. Hours away from fulfilling his dream of living in another Northern city, he experienced yet another setback. He fell behind the president’s entourage. Unable to keep up with the hectic pace of traveling, he was left in Philadelphia to see a doctor and to recuperate. He was fitted for braces and appeared in New York on June 22, 1789, more than two months after Washington.

  Also joining the first family would be two other slaves known only as Giles and Paris. Similar to William Lee, Giles and Paris had traveled outside of the Virginia colony when they accompanied the president to the Constitutional Convention in 1787. Proving themselves reliable outside the rural limits of Virginia, they were to serve the Washingtons as postilions—drivers for the president’s horse-drawn carriages—a duty that would require a quick study of the streets of New York. As illiterate slaves, these men would have to form fast friendships with New York coachmen, relying upon word of mouth and a circle of New York postilions to learn the geographical layout of the city. That wouldn’t prove too difficult. For one, they were serving the decorated commander of the Revolutionary War. And they were fortunate to find other blacks performing the same duty. Black postilions and footmen were seen as symbols of wealth for the rural gentry in New York. The Washingtons could thus maintain their Virginia customs far from Mount Vernon and do it in style.

  The president was conscious of the appearance of his slaves, especially bondmen like Giles and Paris, who stood as symbols of urban wealth. He surveyed their grooming habits and attire, asking his secretary to purchase new clothing for them when their outfits became frayed or tattered. Deciding that the caps worn by Giles and Paris were unacceptable, Washington even wrote to Tobias Lear, “I therefore request that you will have two handsome ones [caps] made, with fuller and richer tassels at top than the old ones have.” Giles and Paris needed to look good. Washington’s image depended upon it.

  Austin, Ona Judge’s half brother, and Christopher Sheels, the nephew of William Lee, were also to serve the Washingtons in New York as waiters/butlers. These men were undoubtedly accustomed to eighteenth-century Southern protocol, and not only were they seen as reliable slaves, but they were presentable to a new Northern social circle. They were most likely trained by the ailing William Lee, who knew the likes and dislikes of his master more than any other bondman. Lee would serve as Mount Vernon’s transplanted institutional memory, the reminder of a slow and steady Virginia past in a hectic New York present.

  Christopher Sheels was a dower slave born during the revolutionary era, probably around 1774. Similar to Austin, he belonged to the Parke Custis heirs and was not counted as one of Washington’s personal slaves. Like Ona Judge, he was young and had a familial connection that placed him among the most trusted of house slaves. Mount Vernon historian Mary Thompson suggests that Sheels was one of the few slaves who were literate on the Mount Vernon estate. This skill would most certainly be useful in the new capital city. Older than both Sheels and Judge, Austin offered reliability as well as maturity.

  The only bondwomen who were set to travel to New York were Ona Judge and Moll, a fifty-year-old seamstress. Judge and Moll would serve the first lady as housemaids and personal attendants. Judge would draw her mistress’s bath, prepare her bed clothing, brush her hair, tend to her when she was ill, and travel with her throughout the city on social calls. Moll would be responsible for the grandchildren who lived with the Washingtons. Moll would wipe noses, calm anxious souls awakened by nightmares, and make certain that the Washingtons’ grandchildren were well fed and dressed. Ona would help Moll in whatever way she could above and beyond fulfilling Martha Washington’s needs. The two women worked all day and every day under the careful watch of their mistress. The life of an enslaved domestic carried grueling and constant demands. Private time, time away from their mistress and ma
ster, was all but fleeting.

  Mrs. Washington traveled a similar route to that of her husband, arriving first in Philadelphia, where she was to make a few social calls and take a short respite, before traveling onward to New York, to much fanfare. Judge watched as a cavalry and honor guard greeted them at the outskirts of the city, welcoming Mrs. Washington and her entourage to Philadelphia. While the first lady reacquainted herself with her old friend Mary Morris, wife of well-known financier Robert Morris, Judge tended to her mistress and started to acclimate herself to a new Northern pace. They were still several days’ travel away from New York, but the time in Philadelphia marked an important transition. Philadelphia was Judge’s first encounter with the North, this exhilarating place where enslaved and free blacks comingled. Inevitably, Judge was confused and excited by the examples of black freedom she witnessed, for it was unlike anything she had ever seen.

  With close to forty-four thousand residents living and working in the growing city, Philadelphia was teeming with people. Nearly three hundred slaves still tethered to the institution of slavery called the City of Brotherly Love their home, yet they were in the minority. When Judge arrived in the city in May of 1789, there were nearly five times as many or close to 1,800 free blacks living within the city limits. Early antislavery literature distributed by Philadelphia publishers forced the city’s inhabitants to look at the institution of slavery through new eyes. When Judge arrived in Philadelphia, the most well-known abolitionist broadside, Description of a Slave Ship, had already made an appearance. The eighteenth-century poster laid bare the brutality and inhumanity of African slavery, creating a visual supplement for all who were interested in the subject of the transatlantic slave trade.