For centuries, American slaveholders used the rhetoric of paternalism and benevolence to justify the maintenance of the institution of slavery—especially as Northern states began to push back against the strict, unjust laws that held Black people in bondage for life. Throughout Never Caught, historian Erica Armstrong Dunbar shows how the growing free Black communities in New York, Philadelphia, and New Hampshire aided Ona Judge Staines in her quest for liberty, helping her to realize the freedom and agency she craved but struggled to feel was possible or tenable. Ultimately, Dunbar argues that the inalienable right to exercise control and agency over one’s own fate is the most important thing in life and the most basic condition necessary for a full existence.
Dunbar first demonstrates how pivotal freedom and agency are by showing how arduous and dehumanizing Ona’s life was before she escaped from bondage. While Ona lived as the property of Martha and George Washington, Dunbar writes, she had only “moments of stolen privacy” when the Washingtons were busy with social engagements—the rest of her life revolved around making their existences easier and more luxurious. As Martha Washington’s bondwoman, Ona had a full schedule that revolved around the first lady from sunup to sundown. Though Ona’s work—brushing Martha’s hair, mending her dresses, and watching over her grandchildren—was, in comparison, not as grueling and painful as the work of slaves who labored in the fields at Mount Vernon, Dunbar underscores how relativity does not necessarily apply to the lives of enslaved people. Just because Ona’s work was simpler than that of others doesn’t mean she longed any less for her freedom. In spite of her owners’ paternalistic beliefs that enslavement benefited and shielded Ona from the hardships free Black people faced out in the world, Ona knew that she would never live a full life until she achieved freedom. Though hard labor was not a part of Ona’s life, the simple fact of her enslavement was a cruel, dehumanizing, and brutal reminder of her inability to exercise any agency over her own existence. In escaping—likely with the help of a network of free Black people in both Philadelphia and New Hampshire, the place where she would seek freedom—Ona definitively declared that her own agency was more important than anything else, even her own survival. As Dunbar writes, “it mattered not if a slave was well dressed and offered small tokens of kindness, worked in luxurious settings or in the blistering heat. Enslavement was never preferable over freedom for any human being, and if given the opportunity, a slave, even the president's slave preferred freedom.”
Ona’s existence was still painful and difficult in New Hampshire after fleeing there from the Washingtons’ residence in Philadelphia—the fear of being recognized, caught, and returned to slavery came to govern much of Ona’s “free” existence. Yet Dunbar shows how the little agency she did have in her later years made it possible for her to begin to steer her own destiny at last. In New Hampshire, Ona was able to marry a man of her choice, have children, and earn compensation for her work. Ona’s life was by no means easy—but up north, away from the Washingtons, it was at least her own. As Dunbar relays the difficulties Ona faced in New Hampshire, including a life of grueling domestic labor for low pay and a series of tragedies when her two eldest daughters died at young ages, she underscores how Ona’s liberation was only partial. At the same time, Dunbar shows how tightly Ona clung to her freedom when Washington sent multiple emissaries to the town of Portsmouth to try to bring Ona back under the Washingtons’ ownership. Ona stood staunchly against these men, declaring “I am free now and choose to remain so.” This demonstrates that even though Ona’s life was complicated by the more difficult labor she undertook as a free woman and by the constant threat of being hunted and returned to slavery, Ona was unwilling to sacrifice her agency and liberty for any reason.
Under slavery, Black people had no control over their own destinies: every waking moment was dedicated to carrying out tasks to make their white owners’ lives easier. Ona Judge’s hard-won freedom was not perfect, nor was it entirely complete, yet Ona herself declared that she would rather have “suffer[ed] death” than returned to slavery. Ona’s liberty and that of her children was more important to her than her own life. Thus, in relaying Ona’s story, Dunbar underscores the importance of agency and control over oneself and one’s destiny as a necessary precursor to a truly fulfilled existence.
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Freedom and Agency Quotes in Never Caught
Ona Judge learned valuable lessons from both of her parents. From her mother she would learn the power of perseverance. From her father, Judge would learn that the decision to free oneself trumped everything, no matter who was left behind.
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.
When the carriage returned Judge to the curved driveway at the Mount Vernon estate, the bondwoman would alter her frame of reference. Her eyes would miss the spotting of free black men and women in the marketplace, and her ears longed for discreet conversations about black freedom. On her return trip to Virginia, Judge would confront the fixed reality of her life as a slave. While her lifestyle and duties may have appeared desirable, even glamorous, to the enslaved at Mount Vernon, Judge knew that black Northerners could enjoy much more than she could.
The president worried that his own slaves were in danger of exposure to the epidemic of black freedom, and although Washington believed that his slaves were better served and cared for in his possession, he understood the power and the allure of freedom. Washington wrote, "For although I do not think they would be benefitted by the change, yet the idea of freedom might be too great a temptation for them to resist.”
Imprudently believing that he could prevent his slaves from hearing about the laws, Washington insisted that the utmost discretion be used regarding their plan of slave rotation in and out of Philadelphia. More than a loss of labor was at stake. If Ona Judge and her enslaved companions uncovered the truth about their slave status in Philadelphia, they would possess knowledge that could set them free. Power would shift from the president to his human property, making them less likely to serve their master faithfully, and eventually, they might run away.
Judge stayed on in the President's House as Washington served his second term, becoming accustomed to her episodic trips back to Mount Vernon. Following the death of her mother and brother, the world that she once knew so intimately at Mount Vernon had vanished, perhaps reminding Judge that Mount Vernon was less a home to her than was the North.
In an effort to help Eliza ease into her new matrimony, Martha Washington stepped in, and offered Eliza the support she needed: she would bequeath Judge to Eliza Law as a wedding gift.
If Judge ever believed that her close and intimate responsibilities for her owner yielded preferential treatment, she now understood better. The bondwoman now knew for certain that in the eyes of her owner, she was replaceable, just like any of the hundreds of slaves who toiled for the Washingtons.
But still, she was willing to face dog-sniffing kidnappers and bounty hunters for the rest of her life. Yes, her fear was consuming but so, too, was her anger. Judge could no longer stomach her enslavement, and it was the change in her ownership that pulled the trigger on Judge's fury. She had given everything to the Washingtons. For twelve years she had served her mistress faithfully, and now she was to be discarded like the scraps of material that she cut from Martha Washington's dresses. Any false illusions she had clung to had evaporated, and Judge knew that no matter how obedient or loyal she may have appeared to her owners, she would never be considered fully human.
The beautiful and expensive clothing that she wore to serve the Washingtons was packed away, and instead, Judge would have dressed in inconspicuous clothing, allowing her to hide in plain sight. She was a hunted woman and would try to pass, not for white, but as a free black Northern woman.
That Judge elected to become a domestic, that she chose to endure physically punishing work in New Hampshire, rather than remain a slave, says everything we need know about how much she valued freedom.
While her walks about town were a reminder of her newfound freedom, they were always accompanied by the concerns of recapture. Judge never forgot that she was a hunted woman. Ever vigilant and alert, she knew she'd be a fool to dawdle in the narrow streets of her new city, for she might be asked to present freedom papers. Black men and women needed to walk with purpose in Portsmouth, lest they be questioned about their business, attracting unwanted or perhaps hostile attention from their white neighbors.
Why would any of the Washingtons' slaves run away, especially Ona Judge? Hadn't she been treated well, clothed, and fed? […] Even though John Langdon was no longer a slaveholder, he knew what must be done. Not only were the Washingtons family friends, but as a senator of the United States, he was obligated to follow the law. Ona Judge was a fugitive and the Washingtons were entitled to their property.
In Washington's mind, there was no possible way that Judge could or would have engineered her own escape under the watchful eyes of her owners. Someone else must have lured her away and planned her escape, for as Washington wrote to Wolcott, "not the least suspicion was entertained of her going, or having formed a connexion with any one who could induce her to such an Act."
Over time, Washington grew adamant that a boyfriend was at the center of Judge's getaway. The president believed that a known acquaintance of the first family, a "Frenchman" to be exact, was involved in Judge's escape.
With no extra money to purchase a new wedding dress, Judge would have selected to wear something from her existing wardrobe. For months, the fugitive dressed inconspicuously, wearing plain clothing appropriate for a domestic. But on her wedding day she would have pulled out one of her nicer dresses, one that she used to wear while serving the Washingtons.
Righteous indignation and a belief in her right to be free prompted her final and fierce response to Bassett, telling him, "I am free now and choose to remain so."
Archibald published this first interview on May 27, 1845, in the Granite Freeman, an abolitionist newspaper. The article appeared on the forty-ninth anniversary of her escape—almost to the day. With her children deceased, the elderly Ona Staines no longer hid from the spotlight. Now in her early seventies, the fear of being returned to the Parke Custis heirs had finally been vanquished.
"When asked if she is not sorry she left Washington, as she has labored so much harder since, than before, her reply is ‘No, I am free, and I have, I trust, been made a child of God by the means.’” Although she never regretted her escape, she could not forget her family members who still lived at Mount Vernon. Leaving them behind was the greatest of sacrifices.
Only sixteen years old, Philadelphia was saddled with the responsibility of serving the new Mrs. Law. Perhaps Philadelphia had proven herself to be trustworthy and reliable and was therefore the natural replacement for her older sister. Or maybe, in a fit of anger, Mrs. Washington purposely selected Philadelphia to serve the new Mrs. Law, a duty that would require her to leave Mount Vernon and head for a new home in the Federal City. If vindictiveness was her motive, Martha Washington was successful. Philadelphia followed in her older sister's footsteps, leaving behind the world she knew at Mount Vernon.
