Embodied History: The Lives of the Poor in Early Philadelphia

Afterword

Mterword Perhaps more than any of his contemporaries it was Be:rUamin Franklinlate eighteenth-century Philadelphia's most famous resident-who popularized and indeed epitomized the rhetoric of opportunity. Franklin famously proposed-both in his autobiography and in the advice of "Poor Richard" that he penned for his popular almanacs-that "if we are industrious we shall never starve," adding that hard work would be rewarded by material success, for "God gives all Things to Industry." In contrast, Franklin condemned those who refused to work hard or who succumbed to "vice," with the admonition that "Laziness travels so slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him."1 Success for those who worked hard was assured, while poverty would be the lot of the lazy and dissolute. Descriptions of the bodies of the poor folk who inhabited Franklin's Philadelphia give the lie to these trite maxims. As described in the runaway advertisements, seamen's protection certificate applications, burial records, and almshouse, prison, and hospital records of early national Philadelphia, these bodies tell stories oflives often filled with hard work yet empty of material well-being and success. What of, for example, Ben, an African American man who chose liberty by running away from slavery in northern Virginia and seeking refuge in Philadelphia? His back had been scarred by the whip, and his body was thus permanently marked in a manner illustrating his servile status. As a slave, Ben had been cautious in his dealings with all white men and women, hiding his thoughts and feelings by lowering his eyes and avoiding eye contact. In the company of friends, however, and after a few drinks, he was more likely to open up, playing the fiddle, singing, and speaking his mind. In these moments of relaxation, and in his bright and colorful clothing and distinctive hairstyle, the young slave had displayed some independence even before running away.2 Liberty and the existence of a free black community in Philadelphia did not, however, much improve his lot. Suspecting his destination, Ben's master had advertised for him in the Pennsylvania Gazette, describing his body, mannerisms, and dress in pejorative but reasonably accurate fashion. Lacking papers that would prove his freedom, the runaway 144 Mterword had limited options, and he could expect only occasional and poorly paid work. At first Ben shared a small room near the waterfront in Southwark with several other impoverished Mrican Americans, playing his fiddle and socializing in a small grog shop favored by black and white sailors, waterfront workers, and the men and women who lived and worked alongside them, for he hoped that those hunting runaways or rounding up the many underemployed masterless men in the city would avoid such a low dive. But work on the waterfront was irregular and poorly paid, and eventually Benjoined the crew of a small merchant ship whose captain knew and liked him, and who was short-handed enough to overlook his lack of papers. Hard work earned him more respect from his white co-workers than Ben could have ever hoped for on land, but for this he paid a heavy price. Assuming the dress, demeanour, and even language and song of the seafaring profession, his body was soon scarred by his work, his leg broken by a fall from the rigging, his fingers scarred and raw from hours of frenzied work topside during bitter Atlantic storms, and his face scarred by smallpox contracted in a Caribbean port. It was disease that eventually killed him, for he was back in Philadelphia when a yellow fever epidemic struck. Ben could neither afford nor risk leaving the unhealthy climes of Southwark for the safer air of the countryside, and after eight years ofliberty and hard work the runaway died and was buried in a mass grave in the pauper's cemetery that lay adjacent to the prison and the Pennsylvania State House. And what of Sarah, the Irish woman who had arrived in the city during Washington's presidency as a young and hopeful immigrant? She began her new life working as the servant of a city merchant, but when toward the end of her term of service she became pregnant her master threw Sarah out. Four years of hard work counted for nothing, and without home, money, or a recommendation Sarah had few options. Several days later a constable found her hungry and crying in the streets and led her to the almshouse. The almshouse clerk,Joseph Marsh, Jr., cast a disapproving eye on...