Ties That Bound

Founding First Ladies and Slaves

The University of Chicago Press

Contents

The Widow Washington

After her husband's death, Martha Washington closed the second-floor bedroom they had shared for decades and moved to one on the floor above. From the window in her garret chamber, she could see parts of Mount Vernon not seen by visitors to the ornate red-roofed mansion. Walls, fences, and shrubbery concealed the areas where slaves labored to provide the mansion's residents with the accoutrements of gentry life, but Martha knew these spaces well. As mistress of Mount Vernon, she supervised the work done there.

The former First Lady presided over a complicated household with a large enslaved staff, from the footman who greeted arriving guests in the impressive elliptical driveway to the scullery maids who washed dishes in a small room above the kitchen. Martha oversaw the gardeners toiling just beyond the kitchen and the cooks they supplied with vegetables. She supervised the work of dairymaids. She kept track of the perishables stored in the larder and the meat that hung in the smokehouse. From an outbuilding on the plantation's North Lane, she distributed fibers to enslaved women who spun them into thread. She oversaw the weaving of thread into cloth and the sewing of cloth into garments and household goods. From her window, she could watch the laundresses boiling wash water and hanging clothes to dry. When she entertained many overnight guests at once, Martha might have her seamstresses embroider owners' initials on items of clothing to ensure they did not get mixed up in the laundry.

Inside the mansion, Martha directed the work of parlor maids and dining room waiters. She summoned and supervised the slaves who waited on family and guests, including her lady's maid, who came upstairs to help her dress, do her hair, and sew. When she was not overseeing her domestic help directly, she inspected the results of their labor. She made sure the bedchambers and linens were clean, the staircases polished, the floors swept and washed — passing judgment and giving directions for improvement.

Except for her move to the third floor, Martha's daily routine did not change all that much following her husband's death. While George Washington lived, visitors flocked to Mount Vernon, hoping to engage him in conversation or bask in his presence. After he died, people continued to come, to pay tribute or forge some link to the history he had helped set in motion. Some came specifically to see his widow, who was as well known as her husband. Martha welcomed the vast numbers of strangers, neighbors, friends, and family, though it meant herdomestic duties continued apace. Yet despite the appearance of continuity, Martha knew great change was in store for Mount Vernon.

A patriarch's death not only represented a personal loss but triggered a financial reckoning. Martha was determined to protect her family's standing. She and George had worked hard to rise economically, socially, and politically, and she was determined to ensure that her heirs would maintain elite status. She was most concerned with her grandchildren, especially the two she and George had raised from infancy. Family was important to Martha despite — or perhaps because of — the many losses she had endured. By the time she married George in 1759, she had already buried one husband, a son, and a daughter. Two other children from her first marriage, to Daniel Parke Custis, had died since her move to Mount Vernon. Martha Parke Custis (Patsy) had passed away at the age of seventeen; John Parke Custis (Jacky) died at twenty-seven. Jacky left behind four young children, two of whom Martha and George Washington raised as their own. George Washington Parke Custis (known as Wash) was age eighteen when his adoptive grandfather died, and twenty-year-old Eleanor Parke Custis (called Nelly) had recently given birth to a daughter, giving Martha yet another generation of loved ones to consider. Martha understood that slavery supported the economic, social, and political world in which she and her grandchildren lived, and her handling of her husband's affairs shows that she accepted this reality. Her goals and values differed in important ways from those of her husband. He had been concerned about the fate of Mount Vernon's slaves and had devised a plan to free some of them after his demise. She too was concerned about the slaves, but she focused mainly on how to prevent her husband's plan from adversely affecting her and her grandchildren.

Martha was present in the second-floor bedroom on the cold day in December 1799 when George Washington lay dying from what was probably a bacterial infection. So were a number of slaves. The maids Caroline, Charlotte, and Molly (sometimes called Moll) were in attendance, as was George's valet, Christopher Sheels, who stood vigil for hours until George indicated that the young man could sit down. The other onlookers who remained with the retired President throughout the day and into the night were George's former secretary Tobias Lear, who happened to be visiting, and his longtime physician, James Craik.

The free white housekeeper Eleanor Forbes was in and out of the bedroom throughout the day and evening, and other slaves were in the house or on the grounds. One had been sent, at George's request, to fetch overseer George Rawlins, who knew how to bleed a patient. He came, and over Martha's objections made an incision, extracting half a pint of blood before Martha prevailed upon George to halt the procedure. Physicians at the time believed medical measures should produce a dramatic result, such as fainting, and before the afternoon was over, other doctors would bleed the President three more times. (Two other physicians had been called to consult with Dr. Craik, one at Martha's request and the other at Craik's.) In addition to bloodletting and other measures, the doctors gave their patient calomel, a mercury compound then used as a purgative but today classified as a fungicide and insecticide.

Wash happened to be away, but Nelly and her newborn, Frances Parke Lewis (called Parke), were at Mount Vernon. She and her husband, a nephew of George Washington, had been helping George and Martha host their many visitors. Nelly apparently did not visit her adoptive father's deathbed to say goodbye. It is possible the men who recorded the surviving firsthand accounts simply did not note her presence. More likely, though, she was observing strictly the rules of confinement and stayed away. Like other new mothers from elite families, Nelly limited her activities to the bedchamber and nursery for about a month following her daughter's birth. Family members, servants, and the doctors would have kept her apprised of changes in the President's condition.

George Washington died at the age of sixty-nine surrounded by people he knew well. A crowded death chamber was not unusual at the time. Elite Virginians expected important social relationships to be represented. Close kin, doctors and their helpers, neighbors, clergy, and important household staff were often present. Everyone understood the social importance of the occasion, especially for a man like George Washington. News of his passing would spread quickly, including details of the death scene. The enslaved people were there presumably to fetch whatever household items might be needed, to carry messages, and to make the patient as comfortable as possible by changing sheets and doing the grubby work of nursing. One of them — or perhaps another slave working in the kitchen — would have prepared one of Martha's home remedies for a sore throat: molasses mixed with vinegar and butter.

Enslaved help not only cared for the patient but served the pageantry of the moment. Their presence was a reminder of their owner's mastery and symbolized an important part of his life's work, as did the presence of Lear, his former secretary. Citizens who heard about the President's death would deem it fitting that such assistants were with him at the end.

The slaves had reasons for wanting to be present. A slaveholder's death held danger — the division of an estate among heirs could separate families held in bondage — but also grounds for hope. At times owners manumitted bonded men and women, particularly favored slaves who worked in the intimate setting of the home. Heirs took deathbed declarations seriously. They would be hard-pressed to go against wishes expressed by loved ones ready to meet their maker — whether the wishes concerned emancipating slaves, bequeathing property, or anything else. Deathbed pronouncements were heard by witnesses, some of whom gathered expressly for this purpose. In George Washington's case, rumors of freedom for slaves at his death had circulated for years, and the four people who served him in his final moments may have hoped to be rewarded with release from service.

At some point in the afternoon of December 14, George sent Martha downstairs to his study to retrieve two wills he had written. After looking them over, he indicated that she should throw one in the fire, which she did. By then it was clear to Martha and others in the room that the President was dying. Through the afternoon, he seemed to accept his impending death with stoicism, asking at intervals for the time. Around five or six o'clock he asked that heroic treatments to save his life be stopped. He struggled for breath and said little. In the evening he told his doctor that he could "feel myself going" and asked that he be allowed to "go off quietly." He died between ten and eleven o'clock, shortly after taking his own pulse and asking to be "decently buried" but not before three days had passed. The request apparently reflected his fear of being interred alive. The dread was widespread in the era, and burial services were often postponed accordingly.

It was not the first time George had thought about what would happen to his body. His will specifically rejected the idea that the public be involved in laying him to rest. "It is my express desire that my Corpse may be Interred in a private manner, without — parade, or funeral Oration," he wrote. He wanted his remains laid "with those of my deceased relatives" in a new vault to be built of brick on the mansion grounds. The old one, also located near the mansion house, was too small, "improperly situated," and in need of repair.

If the President's will had been limited to such mundane matters, it might not have garnered much attention, but one provision posed a problem for Martha and electrified the nation. The will he kept from the fire emancipated his slaves upon Martha's (not his) death. No one recorded George's parting words to Martha, if he had any. His secretary and doctor were the only people in the room who wrote about the President's death, and a later memoir by Wash, who was not present but recounted stories passed down in the family, made no mention of any words that passed between them. After George passed, Martha is reported to have said, "All is now over. I shall soon follow him. ... I have no more trials to pass through." Her words would prove untrue. George's will left Martha with a dilemma: what to do about his slaves?

The writing of a will was one of the rituals that surrounded death, particularly for wealthy white men, and the reading of the will was part of the pageantry and eventually part of the public memory of the man. George crafted his will carefully, attempting to shape the way he would be remembered. Through his will, he did much more than divide his land and stocks. He distributed swords and mourning rings, as well as canes, a Bible, and pistols imbued with historical significance. He publicly affirmed his most important family relationships and friendships through the bequest of personal and prized belongings, as well as through words. Nelly and Wash, for example, received not only land and other property but reassurance that their step-grandfather regarded them "in the same light as I do my own relations."

Through George Washington's will, his slaves received the right to their own persons — eventually, after Martha's passing. He made an exception for one slave, the only one mentioned by name: William Lee, who had been at his master's side through war and peace and who was now disabled. The will granted Lee "immediate freedom" and the right to decide whether to leave or stay at Mount Vernon. Either way, he was to receive an annuity of thirty dollars. Thus, through his bequests, Washington distinguished not only between family, friend, and slave but also among those in each category. Just as some family members and friends were closer than others, so too was one slave.

No one knows the content of the discarded will, although some have speculated that it had been written shortly before Washington took command of the Continental Army in 1775. The surviving one was written in his hand and signed in July 1799. It eventually freed 123 of the 316 slaves who lived and worked on his five farms. The remaining slaves belonged to others. Some had been rented along with a tract of land, but most were part of the estate Martha had inherited from her first husband, the wealthy and well-connected Daniel Parke Custis, who died in 1757. Under Virginia law, Daniel's children or their heirs would eventually take possession of his vast slave and land holdings, as well as other property, but the law also directed that one-third of the estate be allocated for Martha's use over her lifetime. The bulk of Daniel's estate had already been distributed to Jacky's descendants, but Martha's so-called widow's third, or dower property, remained under George's control — as was customary.

The presence of Custis slaves on Washington land complicated the process of emancipating George's slaves. While most of the Custis slaves lived and worked on Custis lands, Martha had brought a dozen or more house servants with her to Mount Vernon in 1759 when she married George, and other Custis slaves had been scattered about on George's four working farms, depending on his need for labor. Custis and Washington slaves formed friendships. They fell in love and married. Children were born, who in turn grew up and had children of their own. By the time of George Washington's death, friendship as well as kinship ties between Washington and Custis slaves were long established.

Shortly before writing his last will, George made lists of the slaves under his management. For each, he recorded name, occupation, place of residence, and name of spouse, if any. He also recorded who owned each slave. Seventy slaves were living at the Mansion House farm. Some were his; others were Martha's. The carpenter Joe was married to Dolshy, a spinner. Joe belonged to George; Dolshy was part of the Custis estate. George's wagoner Godfrey was married to the dower house slave Mima. His carpenter James Carter was married to the knitter Alla, also a dower slave. And so it went. The existence of children only added to the problem. A child's opportunity for freedom depended on whether his or her mother was a Washington or Custis slave. The tangled relationships revealed in the inventories must have weighed heavily on George's mind as he pondered the best way to free his people.

The master of Mount Vernon surely knew that relationships between the Washington and Custis slaves would unravel when his will was implemented. Although George managed the Custis slaves, he had made no plans to free them. He had authority to manumit only those people he had inherited or purchased, along with the children born to enslaved Washington women. He had tried to negotiate with members of the Custis family over some of the others, and the four household servants who attended the dying President — dower slaves all — must have hoped they would be among the Mount Vernon slaves that rumors said would gain freedom at the master's death. But when the content of George's will was made known, it became clear that they would not be freed. Because Custis slaves outnumbered the Washington slaves, most of the enslaved people living at Mount Vernon would remain in bondage.

Martha would have to decide how to carry out the terms of George's will, but first she had to attend to his funeral. As George had requested, burial was delayed until the fourth day after his passing, but little else was as he had hoped. On 18 December 1799 he was interred in the old family vault near the mansion. Martha had arranged for a new door to be placed on the vault, probably at the same time she ordered his coffin from a cabinetmaker in nearby Alexandria, but no new resting place was erected until 1835.

Most elites at this time buried loved ones at home. Home services were not necessarily simple but could involve elaborate meals, liturgies, and sermons, as well as interment. In George's case, eight slaves, all but one a dower slave, played visible roles. House servants Cyrus and Wilson led the President's horse, saddled but riderless, in a funeral procession. About two hundred family members, friends, and household employees joined the cortège that accompanied the body to the family vault, where the Order of Burial from the Episcopal Prayer Book was read.