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In the same month that Ona Judge traveled to Philadelphia, printer Matthew Carey produced the broadside for the newly reorganized Pennsylvania Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery and for the Relief of Free Negroes Unlawfully Held in Bondage—later known as the Pennsylvania Abolition Society. Description of a Slave Ship documented how Africans were mercilessly packed into slave ships with no regard to space or hygiene, let alone humanity. The broadside buttressed the constant Quaker conversations about the evils of slavery. It also reminded Pennsylvanians about their decision to prepare for the end of slavery in the commonwealth. Some of the most revered Philadelphia statesmen joined the crusade to release men, women, and children from the grasp of perpetual bondage, even former slaveholders such as Benjamin Franklin.
Franklin was not unlike many other white Philadelphians in that it took him some time to accept and support the ending of African slavery. Yet toward the end of the Revolution, Franklin ceased his connection to human trafficking. He had held a handful of slaves, most of whom ran away or died while in his service, and in 1787 became the president of Pennsylvania’s abolition society. That same year, the year that Ona Judge came to Philadelphia, Franklin penned several essays that supported national abolition. Martha Washington would make certain to avoid the likes of Franklin during her brief stay in Philadelphia. She had no interest in releasing the slaves at Mount Vernon, who numbered in the hundreds. Instead, she would move quickly to join her husband in New York, shielding her slaves from the contagion of liberty.
As Judge started to familiarize herself with Northern life, expert astronomer and African American scientist Benjamin Banneker’s predictions of a solar eclipse came true. Although the hybrid solar eclipse was not visible in the skies of North America, Banneker foretold of the event, much to the surprise of his white peers. In ancient times, it was feared that the shadow of the sun signified either death or the end of an era, and in many ways, this was true for the bondmen and bondwomen who found themselves laying over in Philadelphia. On Sunday, May 24, 1789, the moon sailed in front of the sun. The next day the party from Mount Vernon left Philadelphia and headed for New York, marking the beginning of a new life for the young slave girl.
Three
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New York in Black and White
“Sale in New York.”
Fugitive slaves lived in the shadows of eighteenth-century cities, searching for anonymity among the masses. In New York, a fugitive named Molly looked for domestic work and stayed close to her new friends. She lived her life looking over her shoulder for kidnappers or officials of the law, all of whom were anxious to lay claim to her vulnerable black body. We do not know where Molly was from or what family, if any, she left behind in bondage. But we know that she selected New York as her hiding place, a city that still clung to slavery but had cracked open the door to black opportunity. Molly’s carefulness, however, was simply not enough to keep her from the reach of a local constable who had every intention of following the new nation’s constitution. It was his responsibility to arrest men and women who stole themselves from bondage and to make certain that human property was restored to its rightful owner. Molly had to be returned to slavery.
Perhaps she fought the constable, however unsuccessfully, succumbing to his strength as he dragged her to the river to board a boat that would return the fugitive to her owner. A mixture of fear and anger would have coursed through the runaway’s body as she confronted the failure of her escape and the realization that her re-enslavement was imminent. The constable approached the watercraft and prepared to load his newly found human property, when a group of men, white men, appeared. Lawrence Embree, a New York attorney and member of the New York Manumission Society, was among the men who were determined to save the fugitive. They hurled their bodies in front of the constable, “took hold of him,” and refused to let him carry out his slave-catching task. While Embree and his friends detained the constable, Molly was spirited away. The fugitive was safe, for the time being. Embree would face charges of interfering with the law, charges that the prosecutor eventually dropped.
The men who had come to Molly’s rescue were among a small group of New Yorkers who were ready to end the institution of slavery. These influential men had gathered together, just a few years before, to form the New York Manumission Society and began the difficult task of persuading New Yorkers to gradually release their slaves. Becoming important allies to black New Yorkers, the New York Manumission Society was committed to thwarting shadowy slave catchers and to preventing the public sale of slaves. These men offered legal aid to fugitives and opened the first of several African Free Schools for black children. Some of the most well-known nineteenth-century black leaders were educated at the African Free School, including Alexander Crummell, Henry Highland Garnet, and James McCune Smith among others.
As this early band of New York reformers challenged black slavery, free blacks worked to improve life for themselves. Committed black men came together in the tradition of West African societies to form the African Society. Cloaked in secrecy, its founding date is uncertain; however, it is clear that the organization was up and running by 1784 when the poet Jupiter Hammon was invited to speak to the organization. This active and influential black society paved the way for nineteenth-century political and social organizations that focused on the issues of free and enslaved people of African descent. Eventually, among its other goals, this organization would take the charge in fighting for the burial rights of black men and women. In 1788, the year before George Washington’s arrival in New York, black residents uncovered the dubious practice of white medical students: in need of cadavers for dissection and research, white students raided black graves, removing bodies for study and then leaving their remains in bags by the docks. Infuriated blacks came together and petitioned the Common Council to put an end to this practice, but the fight to protect the rights of the deceased and the respect of black bodies crossed over into the 1790s.
White reformers who came to Molly’s aid and those who fought for the burial rights of black people faced almost insurmountable obstacles. Molly’s rescue was a victory, but slavery would live on in New York for decades. Perhaps it was New York’s legal safeguarding of black bondage that allowed the new president to feel comfortable bringing his slaveholding customs to his new Northern residence.
George Washington met his family and the estate’s slaves on May 27 in Elizabethtown, New Jersey, where they were greeted in almost the same manner as was the president. In Martha’s entourage was Judge, who likely alternated between helping Martha and attending to Eleanor Parke “Nelly” Custis and George Washington Parke “Wash” Custis—the Washington grandchildren—as they crossed the river and arrived in Manhattan. In a little less than two weeks, Ona Judge transformed from a rural Virginia slave to one of the most high-profile bondwomen in the new nation. The Washingtons quickly became familiar with the city’s social and political movers and shakers, moving around and entertaining at home, with their slaves ever present. It was a very new kind of life, but the Washington family adjusted in good time. Martha Washington made friends, immersing herself into the new role of the first lady, which included running the President’s House as well as managing Mount Vernon from afar.
Although private correspondence reveals Martha Washington’s personal struggles with the new demands placed upon her, Ona Judge, an illiterate teenager, left behind no such trace. We can only imagine what Judge’s transition to Northern life must have felt like; it had to have been terrifying or at the very least, unsteadying.
Yet the young bondwoman handled the abrupt change like a seasoned slave. Judge adapted to her new life and work in New York, a routine that offered little in the way of sentimental comfort or familiarity. Her new role as Martha Washington’s top servant thrust her into a tornado of constant preparation. The young slave was Martha’s “go-to girl” for just about everything, and it was Judge’s duty to know the desires of her mistress before Martha Was
hington knew them herself. A slave always had to be prepared, for anything.
Her responsibilities were varied. Coming from a family of talented seamstresses, Judge was responsible for Martha Washington’s appearance. She selected her gowns, made small repairs on aging skirts, removing stains whether they be from food or the dirt from the unpaved streets, and then dressed her. What appeared to be the mundane task of wardrobe selection for the first lady was actually quite important. A wardrobe lay at the root of one’s appearance, and the mistress and her slave girl fashioned an image for the new American aristocracy. Although the first lady was far from unrefined, her Virginia ways were revamped during her residency in New York. The Washingtons were precedent setters—and citizens and foreigners alike examined their manners and public displays of quotidian life. The President’s House on Cherry Street became much more cosmopolitan as the first family found themselves adapting to a bustling city with a demanding social calendar.
When Mrs. Washington arrived at Cherry Street, she found the accommodations to be more than acceptable, writing, “The House he is in is a very good one and is handsomely furnished all new for the General.” Just a few blocks away from the countryside, a reassuring reminder of Mount Vernon for the new first lady, it faced the East River and was three stories high and five windows wide. Leased from attorney Samuel Osgood for a sum of $845 per year, a substantial amount of money was required to refurbish the home before the arrival of the president and his family. Similar to other elite New York homes of the eighteenth century, the house counted seven fireplaces as well as the relatively modern convenience of a pump and cistern in the yard. Rooms were enlarged and remodeled for the president’s comfort and business affairs with an extended drawing room for entertaining and a larger and more appropriate stable and washhouse. An office, large dining room appropriate for formal receptions and dinners, and a smaller, more intimate dining room were located on the first floor. Just above, a drawing room and bedrooms for the family occupied all the space on the second floor. The secretaries had two bedrooms on the third floor, leaving the rest of the third floor and attic to be shared by the servants and slaves.
Even with the extensions and adaptations, however, the Cherry Street house was quite full. In addition to the president and Mrs. Washington, two grandchildren, seven slaves (William Lee arrived later in June), and additional members of the staff resided with the president. Tobias Lear, personal assistant to George Washington, and four additional secretaries: David Humphreys, William Jackson, Thomas Nelson Jr., and Washington’s nephew Robert Lewis all made their home on Cherry Street.
There was absolutely no way that Ona Judge and her six enslaved companions could complete all of the necessary work of running the president’s household on their own, and Tobias Lear had already begun to assemble additional staff. Fourteen white servants were hired as both live-in and day servants, including coachmen, porters, cooks, waiters, and housemaids. The servants lived in shared tight quarters with Judge and the other Virginia slaves. For Judge, this was most likely the first time that she lived in such close contact with free white servants. Although there were white artisans and overseers employed at Mount Vernon, Judge would have had infrequent interaction with free whites, who worked physically demanding jobs in order to squeeze out a meager living. At home in Virginia, Judge would have spent the majority of her day serving her masters, but she would have lived in the slave quarters, which were separate and distinct from the main house at Mount Vernon. Things were very different in New York, for not only would Judge learn of a free black population, she would sleep, eat, and share other intimate spaces with white servants.
We know almost nothing about the lives of the servants who were employed by Tobias Lear, and we know even less about their relationships with the seven enslaved men and women with whom they cohabited. What we can imagine is that just as Judge witnessed the “freedom” possessed by Washington’s servants, she also noticed its limitations. White servants grappled with a frightening closeness to poverty, the vulnerability of a job market that still clung to enslaved and indentured labor, and a lack of opportunity that often prevented them from climbing out of destitution. Still, while her white roommates may indeed have been subject to the hostility of poverty, they were free, and Judge was not.
Everyone who resided at the Cherry Street mansion, from the new commander in chief down to the scullery maid, was learning new responsibilities. The learning curve was steep for Judge. In addition to her priority of service to the first lady, the leisure time activities of Nelly and Wash Custis likely became Judge’s responsibility as well. The Washingtons’ granddaughter was ten years old, and her brother was eight, and after her own children died, the Washington grandchildren moved into the center of Martha Washington’s life. Although busy with many new duties, the first lady focused on finding the appropriate tutors and educating the children. According to most accounts, Nelly enjoyed formal learning, while her brother was less enthralled with his academic lessons. During the first few months of his stay in New York, little Wash worked with a private tutor, while Nelly began working with her music teacher, Alexander Reinagle, an Austrian composer and performer. Nelly Washington also learned the art of painting, an eighteenth-century symbol of nobility and refinement. By the fall of 1789, the Washington grandchildren were enrolled in new schools, Wash at a small private school that counted seven additional boys, and Nelly became a day student at a newly opened boarding school, Mrs. Graham’s School, on Maiden Lane.
The whirlwind of New York life intensified the demands of Mrs. Washington, and Judge’s responsibilities became increasingly formal and public. To complicate matters, the young bondwoman had to interact with her mistress in a much more delicate manner. Martha Washington was homesick and complained about her new life almost constantly, later referring to her time in the North as “the lost years.”
Mrs. Washington wasn’t the only one struggling to adjust. New York was both the metaphorical and the literal gateway to an urban early republic. The streets were filled with new adventures in entrepreneurship, culture, and a growing urban citizenry. As the Washingtons adapted to their new life, they did so with trepidation and a longing for the simpler life of Mount Vernon. Washington’s life was filled with so many ceremonial duties that he complained about the loss of his own personal time. Washington wrote, “I had no leizure to read or answer the dispatches which were pouring in from all quarters.” After his return from war, Washington grew accustomed to and appreciated the five and a half years of a slower-paced life at Mount Vernon. His preferred lifestyle all but vanished in his new post, and the new president struggled to create boundaries between the personal and the public, a chore that was almost impossible. Anxious not to appear antidemocratic, Washington wanted to maintain an open relationship with “the people,” but he needed to reel in the constant social and semipolitical demands placed upon him and his family. Weekly levees, small receptions where visitors could speak directly to him, seemed a perfect compromise. These audiences with the president began at three o’clock every Tuesday afternoon and lasted no longer than an hour. The president was a punctual man but also somewhat socially distant. He did not like socializing with strangers; it made him uncomfortable. Four o’clock on Tuesdays couldn’t come soon enough for Washington.
The president’s levees were open to male visitors only, so every Friday, Martha Washington would open the home on Cherry Street to her female friends and acquaintances. Beginning at seven o’clock in the evening, Mrs. Washington greeted her guests with tea and coffee, as well as lemonade and ice cream. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Washington did not cut her social gatherings short, allowing guests to stay until ten o’clock. In addition, on Thursday evenings Mrs. Washington and her husband hosted a formal dinner party for which great care was taken with the guest list. It was important for the president to appear impartial, and therefore the dinners hosted on Cherry Street had to include people from all walks of political life. Foreign ministers, senators
and congressmen, as well as cabinet members were invited to dine with the Washingtons, an event where Mrs. Washington often carried most of the socializing. (Aside from her husband’s natural reticence, Washington also suffered from awful dental problems that often caused pain and embarrassment.) Mrs. Washington complained about the lack of personal time and solitude she experienced in New York, but few would know her true feelings. She served well as the president’s social partner, transmitting an image of grace and respectability.
For her part, Ona Judge would have looked forward to these occasions. While the preparation for Mrs. Washington was intense prior to each event, Judge found herself with a bit of free time, a few stolen moments for herself, once the dinners and socials began. More downtime came on Saturdays when the president and his family went out for a ride in the coach, sometimes riding around town or traveling out to the countryside. On occasion, the Washingtons followed the “fourteen mile round,” a popular path that took travelers through lower Manhattan. Leaving at eleven in the morning, the president and his family spent a few hours away from the house, offering Judge what must have seemed like a luxurious amount of time apart from her masters.
In a home that was filled to the rafters with guests, family, secretaries, servants, and slaves, Judge would have relished this time. In her stolen moments of leisure, it is very likely that she spent time talking to Austin, her brother, or the other slaves about current events or reminiscing about loved ones back at home in Virginia. Perhaps, in these moments, Judged talked with some of the hired servants about New York and its environs. These fleeting respites from her owners allowed for moments of autonomy that helped the young bondwoman come to know her new city and refine her understanding of freedom and slavery in New York.