Ona Maria “Oney” Judge Staines Character Analysis

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.

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. […] [Ona] 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 Washington knew them herself. A slave always had to be prepared, for anything.

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.

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.

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.

If Washington wanted his slave woman back, he would have to follow the law and consequently expose himself to the growing antislavery sentiment in New Hampshire and across New England.

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.

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.

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. […] [Ona] 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 Washington knew them herself. A slave always had to be prepared, for anything.

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.

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.

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.

If Washington wanted his slave woman back, he would have to follow the law and consequently expose himself to the growing antislavery sentiment in New Hampshire and across New England.

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.