HOW I GAINED MY FREEDOM
The years passed and brought many changes to me, but on these I will not
dwell, as I wish to hasten to the most interesting part of my story. My
troubles in North Carolina were brought to an end by my unexpected
return to Virginia, where I lived with Mr. Garland, who had married Miss
Ann[e] Burwell, one of my old master's daughters. His life was not a
prosperous one, and after struggling with the world for several years he
left his native State, a disappointed man. He moved to St. Louis, hoping
to improve his fortune in the West; but ill luck followed him there, and
he seemed to be unable to escape from the influence of the evil star of
his destiny. When his family, myself included, joined him in his new
home on the banks of the Mississippi, we found him so poor that he was
unable to pay the dues on a letter advertised as in the post-office for
him. The necessities of the family were so great, that it was proposed
to place my mother out at service. The idea was shocking to me. Every
gray hair in her old head was dear to me, and I could not bear the
thought of her going to work for strangers. She had been raised in the
family, had watched the growth of each child from infancy to maturity;
they had been the objects of her kindest care, and she was wound round
about them as the vine winds itself about the rugged oak. They had been
the central figures in her dream of life--a dream beautiful to her,
since she had basked in the sunshine of no other. And now they proposed
to destroy each tendril of affection, to cloud the sunshine of her
existence when the day was drawing to a close, when the shadows of
solemn night were rapidly approaching. My mother, my poor aged mother,
go among strangers to toil for a living! No, a thousand times no! I
would rather work my fingers to the bone, bend over my sewing till the
film of blindness gathered in my eyes; nay, even beg from street to
street. I told Mr. Garland so, and he gave me permission to see what I
could do. I was fortunate in obtaining work, and in a short time I had
acquired something of a reputation as a seamstress and dress-maker. The
best ladies in St. Louis were my patrons, and when my reputation was
once established I never lacked for orders. With my needle I kept bread
in the mouths of seventeen persons for two years and five months. While
I was working so hard that others might live in comparative comfort, and
move in those circles of society to which their birth gave them
entrance, the thought often occurred to me whether I was really worth my
salt or not; and then perhaps the lips curled with a bitter sneer. It
may seem strange that I should place so much emphasis upon words
thoughtlessly, idly spoken; but then we do many strange things in life,
and cannot always explain the motives that actuate us. The heavy task
was too much for me, and my health began to give way. About this time
Mr. Keckley, whom I had met in Virginia, and learned to regard with more
than friendship, came to St. Louis. He sought my hand in marriage, and
for a long time I refused to consider his proposal; for I could not bear
the thought of bringing children into slavery--of adding one single
recruit to the millions bound to hopeless servitude, fettered and
shackled with chains stronger and heavier than manacles of iron. I made
a proposition to buy myself and son; the proposition was bluntly
declined, and I was commanded never to broach the subject again. I would
not be put off thus, for hope pointed to a freer, brighter life in the
future. Why should my son be held in slavery? I often asked myself. He
came into the world through no will of mine, and yet, God only knows how
I loved him. The Anglo-Saxon blood as well as the African flowed in his
veins; the two currents commingled--one singing of freedom, the other
silent and sullen with generations of despair. Why should not the
Anglo-Saxon triumph--why should it be weighed down with the rich blood
typical of the tropics? Must the life-current of one race bind the other
race in chains as strong and enduring as if there had been no
Anglo-Saxon taint? By the laws of God and nature, as interpreted by
man, one-half of my boy was free, and why should not this fair
birthright of freedom remove the curse from the other half--raise it
into the bright, joyous sunshine of liberty? I could not answer these
questions of my heart that almost maddened me, and I learned to regard
human philosophy with distrust. Much as I respected the authority of my
master, I could not remain silent on a subject that so nearly concerned
me. One day, when I insisted on knowing whether he would permit me to
purchase myself, and what price I must pay for myself, he turned to me
in a petulant manner, thrust his hand into his pocket, drew forth a
bright silver quarter of a dollar, and proffering it to me, said:
"Lizzie, I have told you often not to trouble me with such a question.
If you really wish to leave me, take this: it will pay the passage of
yourself and boy on the ferry-boat, and when you are on the other side
of the river you will be free. It is the cheapest way that I know of to
accomplish what you desire."
I looked at him in astonishment, and earnestly replied: "No, master, I
do not wish to be free in such a manner. If such had been my wish, I
should never have troubled you about obtaining your consent to my
purchasing myself. I can cross the river any day, as you well know, and
have frequently done so, but will never leave you in such a manner. By
the laws of the land I am your slave--you are my master, and I will only
be free by such means as the laws of the country provide." He expected
this answer, and I knew that he was pleased. Some time afterwards he
told me that he had reconsidered the question; that I had served his
family faithfully; that I deserved my freedom, and that he would take
$1200 for myself and boy.
This was joyful intelligence for me, and the reflection of hope gave a
silver lining to the dark cloud of my life--faint, it is true, but still
a silver lining.
Taking a prospective glance at liberty, I consented to marry. The
wedding was a great event in the family. The ceremony took place in the
parlor, in the presence of the family and a number of guests. Mr.
Garland gave me away, and the pastor, Bishop Hawks, performed the
ceremony, who had solemnized the bridals of Mr. G.'s own children. The
day was a happy one, but it faded all too soon. Mr. Keckley--let me
speak kindly of his faults--proved dissipated, and a burden instead of a
help-mate. More than all, I learned that he was a slave instead of a
free man, as he represented himself to be. With the simple explanation
that I lived with him eight years, let charity draw around him the
mantle of silence.
I went to work in earnest to purchase my freedom, but the years passed,
and I was still a slave. Mr. Garland's family claimed so much of my
attention--in fact, I supported them--that I was not able to accumulate
anything. In the mean time Mr. Garland died, and Mr. Burwell, a
Mississippi planter, came to St. Louis to settle up the estate. He was a
kind-hearted man, and said I should be free, and would afford me every
facility to raise the necessary amount to pay the price of my liberty.
Several schemes were urged upon me by my friends. At last I formed a
resolution to go to New York, state my case, and appeal to the
benevolence of the people. The plan seemed feasible, and I made
preparations to carry it out. When I was almost ready to turn my face
northward, Mrs. Garland told me that she would require the names of six
gentlemen who would vouch for my return, and become responsible for the
amount at which I was valued. I had many friends in St. Louis, and as I
believed that they had confidence in me, I felt that I could readily
obtain the names desired. I started out, stated my case, and obtained
five signatures to the paper, and my heart throbbed with pleasure, for I
did not believe that the sixth would refuse me. I called, he listened
patiently, then remarked:
"Yes, yes, Lizzie; the scheme is a fair one, and you shall have my name.
But I shall bid you good-by when you start."
"Good-by for a short time," I ventured to add.
"No, good-by for all time," and he looked at me as if he would read my
very soul with his eyes.
I was startled. "What do you mean, Mr. Farrow? Surely you do not think
that I do not mean to come back?"
"No."
"No, what then?"
"Simply this: you _mean_ to come back, that is, you _mean_ so _now_, but
you never will. When you reach New York the abolitionists will tell you
what savages we are, and they will prevail on you to stay there; and we
shall never see you again."
"But I assure you, Mr. Farrow, you are mistaken. I not only _mean_ to
come back, but _will_ come back, and pay every cent of the twelve
hundred dollars for myself and child."
I was beginning to feel sick at heart, for I could not accept the
signature of this man when he had no faith in my pledges. No; slavery,
eternal slavery rather than be regarded with distrust by those whose
respect I esteemed.
"But--I am not mistaken," he persisted. "Time will show. When you start
for the North I shall bid you good-by."
The heart grew heavy. Every ray of sunshine was eclipsed. With humbled
pride, weary step, tearful face, and a dull, aching pain, I left the
house. I walked along the street mechanically. The cloud had no silver
lining now. The rosebuds of hope had withered and died without lifting
up their heads to receive the dew kiss of morning. There was no morning
for me--all was night, dark night.
I reached my own home, and weeping threw myself upon the bed. My trunk
was packed, my luncheon was prepared by mother, the cars were ready to
bear me where I would not hear the clank of chains, where I would
breathe the free, invigorating breezes of the glorious North. I had
dreamed such a happy dream, in imagination had drunk of the water, the
pure, sweet crystal water of life, but now--now--the flowers had
withered before my eyes; darkness had settled down upon me like a pall,
and I was left alone with cruel mocking shadows.
The first paroxysm of grief was scarcely over, when a carriage stopped
in front of the house; Mrs. Le Bourgois, one of my kind patrons, got out
of it and entered the door. She seemed to bring sunshine with her
handsome cheery face. She came to where I was, and in her sweet way
said:
"Lizzie, I hear that you are going to New York to beg for money to buy
your freedom. I have been thinking over the matter, and told Ma it would
be a shame to allow you to go North to _beg_ for what we should _give_
you. You have many friends in St. Louis, and I am going to raise the
twelve hundred dollars required among them. I have two hundred dollars
put away for a present; am indebted to you one hundred dollars; mother
owes you fifty dollars, and will add another fifty to it; and as I do
not want the present, I will make the money a present to you. Don't
start for New York now until I see what I can do among your friends."
Like a ray of sunshine she came, and like a ray of sunshine she went
away. The flowers no longer were withered, drooping. Again they seemed
to bud and grow in fragrance and beauty. Mrs. Le Bourgois, God bless her
dear good heart, was more than successful. The twelve hundred dollars
were raised, and at last my son and myself were free. Free, free! what a
glorious ring to the word. Free! the bitter heart-struggle was over.
Free! the soul could go out to heaven and to God with no chains to clog
its flight or pull it down. Free! the earth wore a brighter look, and
the very stars seemed to sing with joy. Yes, free! free by the laws of
man and the smile of God--and Heaven bless them who made me so!
The following, copied from the original papers, contain, in brief, the
history of my emancipation:--
"I promise to give Lizzie and her son George their freedom,
on the payment of $1200.
"ANNE P. GARLAND.
"June 27, 1855."
"LIZZY:--I send you this note to sign for the sum of $75, and
when I give you the whole amount you will then sign the other
note for $100.
"ELLEN M. DOAN.
"In the paper you will find $25; see it is all right before
the girl leaves."
"I have received of Lizzy Keckley $950, which I have
deposited with Darby & Barksdale for her--$600 on the 21st
July, $300 on the 27th and 28th of July, and $50 on 13th
August, 1855.
"I have and shall make use of said money for Lizzy's benefit,
and hereby guarantee to her one per cent. per month--as much
more as can be made she shall have. The one per cent., as it
may be checked out, I will be responsible for myself, as well
as for the whole amount, when it shall be needed by her.
"WILLIS L. WILLIAMS.
"ST. LOUIS, 13th August, 1855."
"Know all men by these presents, that for and in
consideration of the love and affection we bear towards our
sister, Anne P. Garland, of St. Louis, Missouri, and for the
further consideration of $5 in hand paid, we hereby sell and
convey unto her, the said Anne P. Garland, a negro woman
named Lizzie, and a negro boy, her son, named George; said
Lizzie now resides at St. Louis, and is a seamstress, known
there as Lizzie Garland, the wife of a yellow man named
James, and called James Keckley; said George is a bright
mulatto boy, and is known in St. Louis as Garland's George.
We warrant these two slaves to be slaves for life, but make
no representations as to age or health.
"Witness our hands and seals, this 10th day of August, 1855.
"JAS. R. PUTNAM, [L.S.]
"E. M. PUTNAM, [L.S.]
"A. BURWELL, [L.S.]"
"THE STATE OF MISSISSIPPI, WARREN COUNTY,
CITY OF VICKSBURG. } _SS._
"Be it remembered, that on the tenth day of August, in the
year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and fifty-five,
before me, Francis N. Steele, a Commissioner, resident in the
city of Vicksburg, duly commissioned and qualified by the
executive authority, and under the laws of the State of
Missouri, to take the acknowledgment of deeds, etc., to be
used or recorded therein, personally appeared James R. Putnam
and E. M. Putnam, his wife, and Armistead Burwell, to me
known to be the individuals named in, and who executed the
foregoing conveyance, and acknowledged that they executed the
same for the purposes therein mentioned; and the E. M. Putnam
being by me examined apart from her husband, and being fully
acquainted with the contents of the foregoing conveyance,
acknowledged that she executed the same freely, and
relinquished her dower, and any other claim she might have in
and to the property therein mentioned, freely, and without
fear, compulsion, or undue influence of her said husband.
"In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and affixed
my official seal, this 10th day of August, A.D. 1855.
[L.S.] "F. N. STEELE,
"_Commissioner for Missouri_."
"Know all men that I, Anne P. Garland, of the County and City
of St. Louis, State of Missouri, for and in consideration of
the sum of $1200, to me in hand paid this day in cash, hereby
emancipate my negro woman Lizzie, and her son George; the
said Lizzie is known in St. Louis as the wife of James, who
is called James Keckley; is of light complexion, about 37
years of age, by trade a dress-maker, and called by those who
know her Garland's Lizzie. The said boy, George, is the only
child of Lizzie, is about 16 years of age, and is almost
white, and called by those who know him Garland's George.
"Witness my hand and seal, this 13th day of November, 1855.
"ANNE P. GARLAND, [L.S.]
"Witness:--JOHN WICKHAM,
"WILLIS L. WILLIAMS."
_In St. Louis Circuit Court, October Term, 1855. November 15,
1855._ "STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._
"Be it remembered, that on this fifteenth day of November,
eighteen hundred and fifty-five, in open court came John
Wickham and Willis L. Williams, these two subscribing
witnesses, examined under oath to that effect, proved the
execution and acknowledgment of said deed by Anne P. Garland
to Lizzie and her son George, which said proof of
acknowledgment is entered on the record of the court of that
day.
"In testimony whereof I hereto set my hand and affix the seal
of said court, at office in the City of St. Louis, the day
and year last aforesaid.
[L.S.] "WM. J. HAMMOND, _Clerk_."
"STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._
"I, Wm. J. Hammond, Clerk of the Circuit Court within and for
the county aforesaid, certify the foregoing to be a true copy
of a deed of emancipation from Anne P. Garland to Lizzie and
her son George, as fully as the same remain in my office.
"In testimony whereof I hereto set my hand and affix the seal
of said court, at office in the City of St. Louis, this
fifteenth day of November, 1855.
"WM. J. HAMMOND, _Clerk_.
"By WM. A. PENNINGTON, D.C."
"STATE OF MISSOURI, COUNTY OF ST. LOUIS. } _SS._
"I, the undersigned Recorder of said county, certify that the
foregoing instrument of writing was filed for record in my
office on the 14th day of November, 1855; it is truly
recorded in Book No. 169, page 288.
"Witness my hand and official seal, date last aforesaid.
[L.S.] "C. KEEMLE, _Recorder_."