Introduction

This essay builds upon the findings I presented in Essay #25, offering a deeper exploration of the lives of Nathaniel C. Crenshaw and Eliza Hopkins Crenshaw and their contributions to the Quaker struggle against slavery, especially their work to obtain freedom and security for slaves owned by Virginians or their estates. It also expands on the critical role of trusts—legal instruments employed by Southern Friends before the Civil War—as a means of sheltering and then facilitating the emancipation of enslaved people in a society designed to obstruct such efforts.

This research illuminates the extraordinary lengths to which Virginia Quakers went to uphold - not just espouse - their religious testimony against slavery. Their struggle was not only a moral and ethical battle but also a political and logistical challenge, as they navigated an entrenched pro-slavery legal system. The story of the Crenshaws is one of quiet but determined resistance—a testament to the moral dilemmas, legal entanglements, and enduring perseverance that defined the Quaker fight against slavery in the antebellum South.

And then there's this. During the course of the research for this essay, I made a curious discovery. Through careful examination of Quaker meeting records, probate documents, and census data, a pattern of clues surfaced suggesting a connection between the Crenshaws’ antislavery efforts and the workforce at Clifton in 1850. These findings provide a likely explanation for the presence of four enslaved men at Johns Hopkins' estate that summer, placing the Crenshaws at the heart of a historical puzzle and contemporary controversy.

Eliza Hopkins Crenshaw (1797-1875) and Nathaniel Chapman Crenshaw (1791-1866)

Eliza Hopkins Crenshaw, born on May 19, 1797—two years after her brother Johns Hopkins and on the same day of the year—was Johns’ oldest and arguably closest sister. Early correspondence between the siblings reveals the deep bond they shared.

Eliza married late in life. On November 10, 1846, at the age of 49, she wed Nathaniel Chapman Crenshaw at the Courtland Street Orthodox Meeting House in Baltimore. Her husband, aged 55, was a three-time widower from Hanover County, Virginia. Present at the solemn ceremony were Eliza's sisters Sarah, Margaret and Hannah along with her brothers Johns and Samuel. Although the couple had no children of their own, Eliza embraced her role as stepmother to Nathaniel’s children, including two daughters, Elizabeth and Mary Jane, who still lived at home at the Crenshaw estate near Richmond known as Shrubbery Hill. She also became an active member of the local Cedar Creek Monthly Meeting, where she was appointed an elder in 1856.

Born into a non-Quaker family, Nathaniel C. Crenshaw was the son of John Crenshaw of Hanover County, who passed away in 1818, leaving an estate, including approximately 42 enslaved people, that he divided between his two sons—Nathaniel and Edmund. (You'll meet Edmund again a little later.) Unlike his fourth wife, Nathaniel was not a birthright Quaker but rather was “convinced” to join the Society of Friends around 1820, shortly before his first marriage. His conversion marked the beginning of his lifelong dedication to the antislavery cause. In one of his first known acts, in 1825, he coordinated the emancipation and relocation of 60 enslaved individuals from Virginia to Liberia through the American Colonization Society—an extraordinary event for the time that attracted international attention in the press.

Nathaniel C. Crenshaw eventually rose to become a distinguished Quaker minister, a leading figure in the Virginia Half Years Meeting, clerk of the Cedar Creek Meeting, and a vocal proponent of justice for both free and enslaved people of color. According to memoirs written by his son, John B. Crenshaw—a noted Quaker pacifist and emancipationist in his own right—Nathaniel played a pivotal role in obtaining freedom for more than 300 slaves.

Eliza Hopkins likely met Nathaniel C. Crenshaw in Baltimore around 1844, the year that the struggling Virginia Half Years Meeting merged with the more influential Baltimore Yearly Meeting. Nathaniel frequently attended Yearly Meeting gatherings in Baltimore, where he also served as a permanent member of its Meeting for Sufferings. During the 19th century, the Meeting for Sufferings played two vital roles within the Religious Society of Friends. First, it functioned as an executive committee for the Yearly Meeting, setting priorities, overseeing business, and making key decisions. Second, it served as the primary body responsible for addressing the persecution of Quakers who faced legal or social repercussions for acting on their religious convictions.

Nathaniel himself experienced such persecution on more than one occasion. In 1837, for instance, he was charged in the Hustings Court of Richmond for allegedly distributing a pamphlet that questioned the legitimacy and morality of slavery. The presentment accused him of “willfully, knowingly and feloniously” circulating material designed to “advise, incite, and persuade persons of color within this Commonwealth to make insurrection and rebel” while also “denying the right of masters of slaves to property in their said slaves and inculcating the duty of resistance to such right of property.” Though it remains unclear whether he was formally penalized, such charges were commonly used by the Virginia courts to intimidate antislavery agitators and suppress their efforts.

Trusts and Wills as Means of Aiding Enslaved People in Virginia

Virginia's Half Years Meeting (which continued gathering even after the 1844 merger with Baltimore Yearly Meeting) maintained an active body known as the "Committee Having Charge of the Defence of Rights to Freedom of the Colored Population" (hereafter, the Freedom Committee). This committee, of which Nathaniel C. Crenshaw was a permanent member, played a key role in advancing Quaker antislavery advocacy during the antebellum era. 

Members of the Freedom Committee employed various strategies to challenge slavery, including hiring lawyers to file lawsuits on behalf of individuals unlawfully held in bondage, submitting antislavery petitions to the state legislatures of Virginia and Maryland, protesting unjust laws targeting Black people, intervening to prevent the sale of enslaved individuals to the Deep South, and appealing for support from other Quaker meetings. They also aided freedmen in moving to free territories outside Virginia. Some of those who received assistance from Crenshaw acting on behalf of the Freedom Committee were relocated to the colonies of Liberia and Maryland in Liberia, while others resettled in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Indiana.

A key tool in the Freedom Committee’s efforts was the use of trusts. Rooted in English common law, these legal agreements provided protection for real and personal property against creditors' claims. As the 19th century progressed and Americans amassed greater wealth in cash, stocks, and bonds, trusts became more prevalent—not to mention increasingly complex—as a mechanism for preserving family assets, particularly in Virginia.

For Quakers, however, trusts served purposes beyond merely the protection of wealth. They offered a strategic means to safeguard slaves from seizure and sale, secure their eventual freedom, and raise funds to assist them in purchasing land and establishing new lives outside Virginia. Trusts also appealed to Quakers because, legally, the ownership of enslaved people rested with the trust, not an individual, a distinction that aligned with Quakers’ desire to avoid the personal ownership of slaves.

In September of 1824, for example, Nathaniel C. Crenshaw recorded a deed with the Henrico County Clerk, transferring several enslaved people “in trust” to Samuel and Walter Crew, both members of the Cedar Creek Monthly Meeting. The deed stipulated that the Crews, with the state’s legal permission, would emancipate the enslaved individuals and all future descendants of the bound females. In the meantime, the Crews were required to provide for the enslaved people’s care and protection, and to provide opportunities for those of working age to benefit from their labor “to the fullest extent possible” under the existing laws of Virginia. 

This deed underscores the difficulties of emancipating enslaved people in Virginia and the crucial role trusts played in circumventing legal obstacles. Since 1806, Virginia law had required that all manumitted individuals leave the state within one year after their liberation—a measure deliberately designed to deter manumission. Many enslaved individuals resisted leaving their communities, unwilling to be separated from family and friends, while their masters, particularly Quakers, were reluctant to free them without ensuring they could establish independent lives beyond Virginia’s borders.

Trusts, however, provided a legal workaround. While those governed by these agreements remained enslaved in a technical and legal sense, they were often allowed to "live out" as quasi-free people, cultivating their own land and benefiting from their own labor. In North Carolina, such individuals were known as “Quaker Free Negroes,” and the same practice existed in Virginia, offering a means of de facto freedom within the constraints of state law. 

Trusts could be established through standalone contracts, as in the example above, or incorporated into wills. Frequently, trusts and wills of emancipation directed that enslaved people be hired out, with some of the profits earmarked for their relocation and support after emancipation. In 1851, Nathaniel and Eliza Crenshaw served as witnesses to the will of a woman named Judith Strong. After ensuring the care of an elderly enslaved woman named Rhoda, Strong stipulated that the remainder of her enslaved people, as well as any slaves assigned to her estate after her death, be hired out to generate funds for their relocation to a free state. Once sufficient funds had been raised to comply with Virginia law, the executors of the will were instructed to use the remaining resources to facilitate the emancipation and subsequent resettlement of the once-enslaved people.

Eliza Lewis Crenshaw (1795-1863) and Edmund Bacon Crenshaw (1786-1845)

In 1845, Nathaniel’s older brother and only sibling, Edmund Bacon Crenshaw, passed away, leaving behind a significant number of enslaved individuals. Unlike Nathaniel, Edmund did not fully embrace the Quaker faith nor did he share his brother’s unwavering antislavery convictions. However, evidence suggests that he intended for his enslaved laborers to be freed after the death of his wife, Eliza Lewis Crenshaw (not to be confused with Eliza Hopkins Crenshaw).

Edmund’s will was regrettably lost in the fire that destroyed much of downtown Richmond at the end of the Civil War. Nevertheless, surviving legal records indicate that Eliza Lewis Crenshaw was appointed as the administrator of his estate, suggesting that Nathaniel may have been named trustee for Edmund’s slaves, responsible for their care and ultimate emancipation after Eliza’s passing. Alternatively, a separate trust agreement may have been drawn up at a later date. It is also possible that no formal trust contract existed at all, but rather that Nathaniel—given his extensive experience assisting enslaved individuals seeking freedom—informally assumed the role of guardian and caretaker in the absence of his brother or any other male heir capable of managing the estate. (Edmund and Eliza had one child, a daughter, who was only eleven years old at the time of her father’s death.) The Virginia courts often recognized such informal arrangements as de facto trust agreements.

Had Edmund’s will survived, it may have resembled the one described above that Nathaniel and Eliza Hopkins Crenshaw later drafted for Judith Strong. In that case, the profits from the labor of enslaved individuals were designated to support the widow, assist in relocating those emancipated to a free state, and ultimately distribute any remaining funds among the liberated.

The probate proceedings surrounding Edmund’s estate were undoubtedly complex, as there is no evidence that the case was ever fully resolved by the courts. In fact, in her 1862 will—drafted nearly two decades after her husband's passing—Eliza Lewis Crenshaw described Edmund’s assets as “yet undivided.” This phrasing suggests that many, if not all, of the enslaved individuals she had inherited remained in bondage.

Why did it take so long to divide Edmund’s property and determine the fate of those enslaved under his estate? The exact reasons remain uncertain, but it seems likely that the delay stemmed from a separate legal battle that began in 1848, when Eliza was sued by some of her siblings over the division of property belonging to her late brother, Benjamin Brand. Until that dispute was resolved, Eliza was not legally free to dispose of any assets in her husband’s estate. Thus, as the chancery courts painstakingly worked through the competing claims and counterclaims, the legal status of Edmund’s enslaved people remained in limbo. (Indeed, it was unusual for such disputes to take years, even decades, to resolve. See Pleasants v. Pleasants (1799) and Gregory May’s book A Madman’s Will: John Randolph, 400 Slaves, and the Mirage of Freedom.)

Why Clifton? Why Baltimore?

The precise reason for bringing these four men to Baltimore to work at Clifton, if that is indeed what occurred, is unknown. It is possible that Nathaniel—whether acting as an official trustee or a de facto guardian—sought to assist his late brother's widow while also ensuring the livelihood of the enslaved individuals she still technically owned (as well as those he "owned" in trust). As trustee, his efforts would have included securing work for the men that could generate income both for Edmund’s estate and for the slave's emancipation fund.  

By 1850, nearly five years after Edmund’s death and with no male heirs to manage his farm near Mechanicsville, Virginia, agricultural operations there were likely in decline. This would have left the enslaved individuals tied to Edmund’s estate with diminished opportunities for work. And finding employment for all of them in sparsely-populated Hanover County may have proved challenging.  

As we have detailed in previous research, Clifton was an unusually active place in 1850, requiring a substantial workforce not only for large-scale landscaping projects but also for a major remodeling of the mansion. Additional structures—including greenhouses, an icehouse, tool sheds, and barns—were also under construction. The men in question may have possessed specialized skills in carpentry or horticulture, making them particularly useful during the summer of 1850. Their time in Baltimore may have also provided them an opportunity to learn a new trade.  

It is possible that one or two of the men performed household work at Clifton, but this seems unlikely given their agricultural backgrounds, their return to Virginia at the end of the growing season, and what is known about staffing patterns at Hopkins’ residences. Unfortunately, the 1850 slave schedule lacks household-level details, making it impossible to determine their specific occupations or living locations from census records alone.  

The Crenshaws may have also intended to permanently relocate the men to Baltimore after their emancipation. By the mid-nineteenth century, when Black laws in states like Ohio and Indiana made it difficult for free people of color to settle in the West, Baltimore had become a sought-after destination for newly freed people, boasting a robust network of Black churches, schools, trade guilds, and civic organizations. Quaker historian Hiram Hilty, in By Land and By Sea, recounts the story of Harriet Lane, a Virginia woman who migrated to Baltimore in 1863 to begin a new life in freedom. Notably, it was Nathaniel’s son, John B. Crenshaw, who helped facilitate her journey, enlisting the aid of a sympathetic white family willing to transport her from Virginia to Maryland at the height of the Civil War.  

Finally, placing the men in Baltimore—at least temporarily—may have served a more strategic purpose: shielding them from Edmund Crenshaw’s creditors and Eliza L. Crenshaw’s greedy siblings. Regardless of any intent to free them, enslaved individuals could be ordered sold by the courts to satisfy outstanding estate debts. Under such precarious conditions, relocating the men out of state may have been the most effective way to protect their path to freedom. Removed from the reach of courts, creditors, and potential kidnappers in Virginia, they could begin working toward emancipation—raising funds to secure their future independence, gaining experience in a new location, and possibly acquiring valuable new skills. And what better or more secure place could there have been than the estate of one of the wealthiest and most highly respected Quaker businessmen in the United States?

Conclusion

In 1850, neither the Hopkins family nor the Crenshaws could have foreseen how long the Virginia lawsuits would persist or when—if ever—the enslaved individuals caught in legal limbo would gain their freedom. Nor could they have anticipated the profound transformations that American society would soon undergo. Certainly, no one at the time could have imagined that a relatively unknown lawyer from Springfield, Illinois—Abraham Lincoln—would one day ascend to the presidency and, in the midst of civil war, issue the Emancipation Proclamation, declaring freedom for enslaved individuals in Confederate-held territories, including Virginia.

Eliza Lewis Crenshaw died in 1863, just months after Lincoln’s proclamation upended the legal landscape of slavery in Virginia. Nathaniel Crenshaw lived a few years longer, passing away in 1866 at the age of 74, having witnessed the final and total abolition of slavery in America. After Nathaniel’s death, Eliza Hopkins Crenshaw returned to Baltimore to live with her brother, Johns Hopkins, assuming the role of housekeeper at both his city mansion and country home. A child who lived in Clifton’s gatehouse later recalled her fondly, remembering that she always had a “plate of goodies” to share.

Despite the intriguing connections discussed above, no surviving document definitively establishes that the men enumerated at Clifton in 1850 originated from Eliza L. Crenshaw’s farm in Virginia. The loss of critical records—especially those from Hanover County, many of which were destroyed in the fire that swept through Richmond at the end of the Civil War—makes it difficult to verify such a link. Edmund's probate files, with their detailed accountings required of estate administrators and commissioners, might have offered clearer evidence. 

Likewise, we cannot confirm whether the slaves sheltered by Eliza and Nathaniel Crenshaw attained their freedom before the Emancipation Proclamation formally ended slavery in Virginia. There are two enslaved men "in trust to liberation" at Shubbery Hill in 1860 - one 55 and one 28 - whose ages match exactly those of two of the men at Clifton as recorded in the 1850 slave schedule census. At the same time, no one aged 60 or 35 is with the Crenshaws in 1860.

Nonetheless, while direct proof remains elusive, the circumstantial evidence supporting this possibility is compelling. The near identical ages and characteristics (sex and race) between the enslaved men recorded at Clifton and those associated with the Crenshaw estate, combined with the Crenshaws’ well-documented antislavery activities, their visits to Baltimore in March and October 1850 (coinciding with the beginning and end of Clifton’s agricultural season), and the estate’s demand for laborers amid extensive remodeling projects, all suggest a likely connection.

This interpretation also aligns with what we know about Johns Hopkins’ life and values. Though he had been “read out” of meeting for selling "distilled spirituous liquors," he remained closely connected to Baltimore’s Orthodox Quaker community, regularly attending meetings for worship at the Courtland and later Eutaw Street meetinghouses. He supported initiatives that advanced Baltimore’s African American community, including advocating for public education for free Black children, and later, the founding of an orphanage and hospital dedicated to serving the poor, sick, and abandoned—regardless of race. His commitment to such causes reflects broader Quaker traditions of social reform and humanitarianism, values that were also evident in the actions of his brother-in-law Nathaniel Crenshaw and his beloved sister Eliza.

While the precise circumstances surrounding the presence of enslaved individuals at Clifton in 1850 remain uncertain, the explanations explored in this essay offer a framework for understanding the larger historical context. Given what we know of Hopkins’ background, it seems very unlikely that he personally owned the men, particularly considering his lifelong associations with pious Quakers and well-known antislavery activists—not only Nathaniel and Eliza Crenshaw but also figures like Miles White and Francis T. King. However, as with so much of history from this period, the available evidence leaves room for further inquiry, and alternative explanations should continue to be considered.

Sources

Numerous sources were consulted in the writing of this essay, with primary emphasis on archival materials gathered during visits to the Sheridan Libraries at Johns Hopkins University, Haverford and Swarthmore Colleges in Pennsylvania, and the Library of Virginia in Richmond. These collections provided invaluable firsthand documentation on Quaker activities, legal structures, and the historical context of the Crenshaw family.

Dr. Edward Papenfuse has compiled an extensive online repository of Orthodox Quaker records in Baltimore, offering easy access to thousands of scanned documents critical to this research. His blog site, Remembering Baltimore and Beyond, is another rich resource, providing historical insights, images, and maps related to Johns Hopkins and the Baltimore Quaker community.

Among the many books consulted for this essay, Gregory May’s A Madman’s Will: John Randolph, 400 Slaves, and the Mirage of Freedom has been particularly illuminating in capturing the contradictions and complexities of the institution of slavery in Virginia. Another essential work for understanding Virginia's Quaker communities and their interactions with enslaved people is A. Glenn Crothers’ Quakers Living in the Lion’s Mouth: The Society of Friends in Northern Virginia, 1730-1865. This book provides a detailed history of Quakers in Northern Virginia before the Civil War, focusing on the Shenandoah Valley and Upper Piedmont, where Johns Hopkins also had family connections.

There are too many individual primary sources, articles, and books to list in full here (a comprehensive bibliography will be included in my forthcoming biography of Johns Hopkins). However, the following have been instrumental in reconstructing the historical connections between the Crenshaws, the Hopkins family, and the broader Quaker resistance to slavery in the Upper South:

• Brophy, Alfred L., and Douglas Thie. 2014. "Land, Slaves, and Bonds: Trust and Probate in the Pre-Civil War Shenandoah Valley." West Virginia Law Review, 2016. UNC Legal Studies Research Paper No. 2113084. Available at SSRN: https://ssrn.com/abstract=2113084 or http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2113084.

• Cocke, William Ronald III. 1978. Hanover County Chancery Wills and Notes. Baltimore: Genealogical Publishing Co., Inc.

• Hilty, Hiram. 1993. By Land and by Sea: Quakers Confront Slavery and Its Aftermath in North Carolina. North Carolina Yearly Meeting.

• Van Morgan, Sydney, Bailey Pasternak, Lydia Wan, Qingxi Wang, and Hardy Williams. 2024. "Manumissions on Maryland’s Western Shore, 1775-1785." Journal of Slavery and Data Preservation 5, no. 4: 30-37. https://doi.org/10.25971/7f3g-yx02.

• Encyclopedia of American Quaker Genealogy, Vol. 6: Virginia. Genealogical Publishing Co., 2014, p. 237.

• Our Quaker Friends of Ye Olden Time. Lynchburg, VA: J.P. Bell, 1905.