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- Herausgeber: coolaij
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
This illustrated edition of "Twelve Years a Slave" includes:Illustrations of objects and places mentioned in the novel. Twelve Years a Slave is an 1853 memoir and slave narrative by American Solomon Northup as told to and written by David Wilson. Northup, a black man who was born free in New York state, details himself being tricked to go to Washington, D.C., where he was kidnapped and sold into slavery in the Deep South.
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Transcriber's Note
Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully as possible, including obsolete and variant spellings and other inconsistencies. Text that has been changed is noted at the end of this ebook.
FIFTH THOUSAND.
TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE.
NARRATIVEOFSOLOMON NORTHUP,A CITIZEN OF NEW-YORK, KIDNAPPED IN WASHINGTON CITY IN 1841,AND RESCUED IN 1853,
FROM A COTTON PLANTATION NEAR THE RED RIVER, IN LOUISIANA.
AUBURN:DERBY AND MILLER.
BUFFALO:DERBY, ORTON AND MULLIGAN.
LONDON:SAMPSON LOW, SON & COMPANY, 47 LUDGATE HILL.
1853.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-three, byDerby and Miller, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New-York.
Entered in London at Stationers' Hall.
TOHARRIET BEECHER STOWE:WHOSE NAME,THROUGHOUT THE WORLD, IS IDENTIFIED WITH THE GREAT REFORM:THIS NARRATIVE, AFFORDING ANOTHERKey to Uncle Tom's Cabin,IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
CONTENTS.
page.
Editor's Preface,
15
CHAPTER I.
Introductory—Ancestry—The Northup Family—Birth and Parentage—Mintus Northup—Marriage with Anne Hampton—Good Resolutions—Champlain Canal—Rafting Excursion to Canada—Farming—The Violin—Cooking—Removal to Saratoga—Parker and Perry—Slaves and Slavery—The Children—The Beginning of Sorrow,
17
CHAPTER II.
The two Strangers—The Circus Company—Departure from Saratoga—Ventriloquism and Legerdemain—Journey to New-York—Free Papers—Brown and Hamilton—The haste to reach the Circus—Arrival in Washington—Funeral of Harrison—The Sudden Sickness—The Torment of Thirst—The Receding Light—Insensibility—Chains and Darkness,
28
CHAPTER III.
Painful Meditations—James H. Burch—Williams' Slave Pen in Washington—The Lackey, Radburn—Assert my Freedom—The Anger of the Trader—The Paddle and Cat-o'-nine-tails—The Whipping—New Acquaintances—Ray, Williams, and Randall—Arrival of Little Emily and her Mother in the Pen—Maternal Sorrows—The Story of Eliza,
40
CHAPTER IV.
Eliza's Sorrows—Preparation to Embark—Driven Through the Streets of Washington—Hail, Columbia—The Tomb of Washington—Clem Ray—The Breakfast on the Steamer—The happy Birds—Aquia Creek—Fredericksburgh—Arrival in Richmond—Goodin and his Slave Pen—Robert, of Cincinnati—David and his Wife—Mary and Lethe—Clem's Return—His subsequent Escape to Canada—The Brig Orleans—James H. Burch,
54
CHAPTER V.
Arrival at Norfolk—Frederick and Maria—Arthur, the Freeman—Appointed Steward—Jim, Cuffee, and Jenny—The Storm—Bahama Banks—The Calm—The Conspiracy—The Long Boat—The Small-Pox—Death of Robert—Manning, the Sailor—The Meeting in the Forecastle—The Letter—Arrival at New-Orleans—Arthur's Rescue—Theophilus Freeman, the Consignee—Platt—First Night in the New-Orleans Slave Pen,
65
CHAPTER VI.
Freeman's Industry—Cleanliness and Clothes—Exercising in the Show Room—The Dance—Bob, the Fiddler—Arrival of Customers—Slaves Examined—The Old Gentleman of New-Orleans—Sale of David, Caroline, and Lethe—Parting of Randall and Eliza—Small-Pox—The Hospital—Recovery and Return to Freeman's Slave Pen—The Purchaser of Eliza, Harry, and Platt—Eliza's Agony on Parting from Little Emily,
78
CHAPTER VII.
The Steamboat Rodolph—Departure from New-Orleans—William Ford—Arrival at Alexandria, on Red River—Resolutions—The Great Pine Woods—Wild Cattle—Martin's Summer Residence—The Texas Road—Arrival at Master Ford's—Rose—Mistress Ford—Sally and her Children—John, the Cook—Walter, Sam, and Antony—The Mills on Indian Creek—Sabbath Days—Sam's Conversion—The Profit of Kindness—Rafting—Adam Taydem, the Little White Man—Cascalla and his Tribe—The Indian Ball—John M. Tibeats—The Storm approaching,
89
CHAPTER VIII.
Ford's Embarrassments—The Sale to Tibeats—The Chattel Mortgage—Mistress Ford's Plantation on Bayou Bœuf—Description of the Latter—Ford's Brother-in-law, Peter Tanner—Meeting with Eliza—She still Mourns for her Children—Ford's Overseer, Chapin—Tibeats' Abuse—The Keg of Nails—The First Fight with Tibeats—His Discomfiture and Castigation—The attempt to Hang me—Chapin's Interference and Speech—Unhappy Reflections—Abrupt Departure of Tibeats, Cook, and Ramsey—Lawson and the Brown Mule—Message to the Pine Woods,
105
CHAPTER IX.
The Hot Sun—Yet bound—The Cords sink into my Flesh—Chapin's Uneasiness—Speculation—Rachel, and her Cup of Water—Suffering increases—The Happiness of Slavery—Arrival of Ford—He cuts the Cords which bind me, and takes the Rope from my Neck—Misery—The gathering of the Slaves in Eliza's Cabin—Their Kindness—Rachel Repeats the Occurrences of the Day—Lawson entertains his Companions with an Account of his Ride—Chapin's apprehensions of Tibeats—Hired to Peter Tanner—Peter expounds the Scriptures—Description of the Stocks,
118
CHAPTER X.
Return to Tibeats—Impossibility of pleasing him—He attacks me with a Hatchet—The Struggle over the Broad Axe—The Temptation to Murder him—Escape across the Plantation—Observations from the Fence—Tibeats approaches, followed by the Hounds—They take my Track—Their loud Yells—They almost overtake me—I reach the Water—The Hounds confused—Moccasin Snakes—Alligators—Night in the "Great Pacoudrie Swamp"—The Sounds of Life— North-West Course—Emerge into the Pine Woods—Slave and his Young Master—Arrival at Ford's—Food and Rest,
131
CHAPTER XI.
The Mistress' Garden—The Crimson and Golden Fruit—Orange and Pomegranate Trees—Return to Bayou Bœuf—Master Ford's Remarks on the way—The Meeting-with Tibeats—His Account of the Chase—Ford censures his Brutality—Arrival at the Plantation—Astonishment of the Slaves on seeing me—The anticipated Flogging—Kentucky John—Mr. Eldret, the Planter—Eldret's Sam—Trip to the "Big Cane Brake"—The Tradition of "Sutton's Field"—Forest Trees—Gnats and Mosquitoes—The Arrival of Black Women in the Big Cane—Lumber Women—Sudden Appearance of Tibeats—His Provoking Treatment—Visit to Bayou Bœuf—The Slave Pass—Southern Hospitality—The Last of Eliza—Sale to Edwin Epps,
146
CHAPTER XII.
Personal Appearance of Epps—Epps, Drunk and Sober—A Glimpse of his History—Cotton Growing—The Mode of Ploughing and Preparing Ground—Of Planting, of Hoeing, of Picking, of Treating Raw Hands—The difference in Cotton Pickers—Patsey a remarkable one—Tasked according to Ability—Beauty of a Cotton Field—The Slave's Labors—Fear of Approaching the Gin-House—Weighing—"Chores"—Cabin Life—The Corn Mill—The Uses of the Gourd—Fear of Oversleeping—Fear continually—Mode of Cultivating Corn—Sweet Potatoes—Fertility of the Soil—Fattening Hogs—Preserving Bacon—Raising Cattle—Shooting-Matches—Garden Products—Flowers and Verdure,
162
CHAPTER XIII.
The Curious Axe-Helve—Symptoms of approaching Illness—Continue to decline—The Whip ineffectual—Confined to the Cabin—Visit by Dr. Wines—Partial Recovery—Failure at Cotton Picking—What may be heard on Epps' Plantation—Lashes Graduated—Epps in a Whipping Mood—Epps in a Dancing Mood—Description of the Dance—Loss of Rest no Excuse—Epps' Characteristics—Jim Burns—Removal from Huff Power to Bayou Bœuf—Description of Uncle Abram; of Wiley; of Aunt Phebe; of Bob, Henry, and Edward; of Patsey; with a Genealogical Account of each—Something of their Past History, and Peculiar Characteristics— Jealousy and Lust—Patsey, the Victim,
176
CHAPTER XIV.
Destruction of the Cotton Crop in 1845—Demand for Laborers in St. Mary's Parish—Sent thither in a Drove—The Order of the March—The Grand Coteau—Hired to Judge Turner on Bayou Salle—Appointed Driver in his Sugar House—Sunday Services—Slave Furniture; how obtained—The Party at Yarney's, in Centreville—Good Fortune—The Captain of the Steamer—His Refusal to Secrete me—Return to Bayou Bœuf—Sight of Tibeats—Patsey's Sorrows—Tumult and Contention—Hunting the Coon and Opossum—The Cunning of the latter—The Lean Condition of the Slave—Description of the Fish Trap—The Murder of the Man from Natchez—Epps Challenged by Marshall—The Influence of Slavery—The Love of Freedom,
191
CHAPTER XV.
Labors on Sugar Plantations—The Mode of Planting Cane—of Hoeing Cane—Cane Ricks—Cutting Cane—Description of the Cane Knife—Winrowing—Preparing for Succeeding Crops—Description of Hawkins' Sugar Mill on Bayou Bœuf—The Christmas Holidays—The Carnival Season of the Children of Bondage—The Christmas Supper—Red, the Favorite Color—The Violin, and the Consolation it afforded—The Christmas Dance—Lively, the Coquette—Sam Roberts, and his Rivals—Slave Songs—Southern Life as it is—Three Days in the Year—The System of Marriage—Uncle Abram's Contempt of Matrimony,
208
CHAPTER XVI.
Overseers—How they are Armed and Accompanied—The Homicide—His Execution at Marksville—Slave Drivers—Appointed Driver on removing to Bayou Bœuf—Practice makes perfect—Epps's Attempt to Cut Platt's Throat—The Escape from him—Protected by the Mistress—Forbids Reading and Writing—Obtain a Sheet of Paper after Nine Years' Effort—The Letter—Armsby, the Mean White—Partially confide in him—His Treachery—Epps' Suspicions—How they were quieted—Burning the Letter—Armsby leaves the Bayou—Disappointment and Despair,
223
CHAPTER XVII.
Wiley disregards the counsels of Aunt Phebe and Uncle Abram, and is caught by the Patrollers—The Organization and Duties of the latter—Wiley Runs Away—Speculations in regard to him—His Unexpected Return—His Capture on the Red River, and Confinement in Alexandria Jail—Discovered by Joseph B. Roberts—Subduing Dogs in anticipation of Escape—The Fugitives in the Great Pine Woods—Captured by Adam Taydem and the Indians—Augustus killed by Dogs—Nelly, Eldret's Slave Woman—The Story of Celeste—The Concerted Movement—Lew Cheney, the Traitor—The Idea of Insurrection,
236
CHAPTER XVIII.
O'Niel, the Tanner—Conversation with Aunt Phebe overheard—Epps in the Tanning Business—Stabbing of Uncle Abram—The Ugly Wound—Epps is Jealous—Patsey is Missing—Her Return from Shaw's—Harriet, Shaw's Black Wife—Epps Enraged—Patsey denies his Charges—She is Tied Down Naked to Four Stakes—The Inhuman Flogging—Flaying of Patsey—The Beauty of the Day—The Bucket of Salt Water—The Dress stiff with Blood—Patsey grows Melancholy—Her Idea of God and Eternity—Of Heaven and Freedom—The Effect of Slave-Whipping—Epps' Oldest Son—"The Child is Father to the Man,"
250
CHAPTER XIX.
Avery, on Bayou Rouge—Peculiarity of Dwellings—Epps builds a New House—Bass, the Carpenter—His Noble Qualities—His Personal Appearance and Eccentricities—Bass and Epps discuss the Question of Slavery—Epps' Opinion of Bass—I make myself known to him—Our Conversation—His Surprise—The Midnight Meeting on the Bayou Bank—Bass' Assurances—Declares War against Slavery—Why I did not Disclose my History—Bass writes Letters—Copy of his Letter to Messrs. Parker and Perry—The Fever of Suspense—Disappointments—Bass endeavors to cheer me—My Faith in him,
263
CHAPTER XX.
Bass faithful to his word—His Arrival on Christmas Eve—The Difficulty of Obtaining an Interview—The Meeting in the Cabin—Non-arrival of the Letter—Bass announces his Intention to proceed North—Christmas—Conversation between Epps and Bass—Young Mistress McCoy, the Beauty of Bayou Bœuf—The "Ne plus ultra" of Dinners—Music and Dancing—Presence of the Mistress—Her Exceeding Beauty—The Last Slave Dance—William Pierce—Oversleep myself—The Last Whipping—Despondency—Cold Morning—Epps' Threats—The Passing Carriage—Strangers approaching through the Cotton-Field—Last Hour on Bayou Bœuf,
279
CHAPTER XXI.
The Letter reaches Saratoga—Is forwarded to Anne—Is laid before Henry B. Northup—The Statute of May 14, 1840—Its Provisions—Anne's Memorial to the Governor—The affidavits Accompanying it—Senator Soule's Letter—Departure of the Agent appointed by the Governor—Arrival at Marksville—The Hon. John P. Waddill—The Conversation on New-York Politics—It suggests a Fortunate Idea—The Meeting with Bass—The Secret out—Legal Proceedings instituted—Departure of Northup and the Sheriff from Marksville for Bayou Bœuf—Arrangements on the Way—Reach Epps' Plantation—Discover his Slaves in the Cotton-Field—The Meeting—The Farewell,
289
CHAPTER XXII.
Arrival in New-Orleans—Glimpse of Freeman—Genois, the Recorder—His Description of Solomon—Reach Charleston Interrupted by Custom House Officers—Pass through Richmond—Arrival in Washington—Burch Arrested—Shekels and Thorn—Their Testimony—Burch Acquitted—Arrest of Solomon—Burch withdraws the Complaint—The Higher Tribunal—Departure from Washington—Arrival at Sandy Hill—Old Friends and Familiar Scenes—Proceed to Glens Falls—Meeting with Anne, Margaret, and Elizabeth—Solomon Northup Staunton—Incidents—Conclusion,
310
Appendix,
323
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Portrait of Solomon in his Plantation SuitScene in the Slave Pen at Washington,Separation of Eliza and her last Child,Chapin rescues Solomon from Hanging,The Staking out and Flogging of the girl Patsey,Scene in the Cotton Field, and Solomon's Delivery,Arrival Home, and first meeting with his Wife and Children,
EDITOR'S PREFACE.
When the editor commenced the preparation of the following narrative, he did not suppose it would reach the size of this volume. In order, however, to present all the facts which have been communicated to him, it has seemed necessary to extend it to its present length.
Many of the statements contained in the following pages are corroborated by abundant evidence—others rest entirely upon Solomon's assertion. That he has adhered strictly to the truth, the editor, at least, who has had an opportunity of detecting any contradiction or discrepancy in his statements, is well satisfied. He has invariably repeated the same story without deviating in the slightest particular, and has also carefully perused the manuscript, dictating an alteration wherever the most trivial inaccuracy has appeared.
It was Solomon's fortune, during his captivity, to be owned by several masters. The treatment he received while at the "Pine Woods" shows that among slaveholders there are men of humanity as well as of cruelty. Some of them are spoken of with emotions of gratitude—others in a spirit of bitterness. It is believed that the following account of his experience on Bayou Bœuf presents a correct picture of Slavery, in all its lights and shadows, as it now exists in that locality. Unbiased, as he conceives, by any prepossessions or prejudices, the only object of the editor has been to give a faithful history of Solomon Northup's life, as he received it from his lips.
In the accomplishment of that object, he trusts he has succeeded, notwithstanding the numerous faults of style and of expression it may be found to contain.
DAVID WILSON.
Whitehall, N. Y., May, 1853.
NARRATIVE OF SOLOMON NORTHUP.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY—ANCESTRY—THE NORTHUP FAMILY—BIRTH AND PARENTAGE—MINTUS NORTHUP—MARRIAGE WITH ANNE HAMPTON—GOOD RESOLUTIONS—CHAMPLAIN CANAL—RAFTING EXCURSION TO CANADA—FARMING—THE VIOLIN—COOKING—REMOVAL TO SARATOGA—PARKER AND PERRY—SLAVES AND SLAVERY—THE CHILDREN—THE BEGINNING OF SORROW.
Having been born a freeman, and for more than thirty years enjoyed the blessings of liberty in a free State—and having at the end of that time been kidnapped and sold into Slavery, where I remained, until happily rescued in the month of January, 1853, after a bondage of twelve years—it has been suggested that an account of my life and fortunes would not be uninteresting to the public.
Since my return to liberty, I have not failed to perceive the increasing interest throughout the Northern States, in regard to the subject of Slavery. Works of fiction, professing to portray its features in their more pleasing as well as more repugnant aspects, have been circulated to an extent unprecedented, and, as I understand, have created a fruitful topic of comment and discussion.
I can speak of Slavery only so far as it came under my own observation—only so far as I have known and experienced it in my own person. My object is, to give a candid and truthful statement of facts: to repeat the story of my life, without exaggeration, leaving it for others to determine, whether even the pages of fiction present a picture of more cruel wrong or a severer bondage.
As far back as I have been able to ascertain, my ancestors on the paternal side were slaves in Rhode Island. They belonged to a family by the name of Northup, one of whom, removing to the State of New-York, settled at Hoosic, in Rensselaer county. He brought with him Mintus Northup, my father. On the death of this gentleman, which must have occurred some fifty years ago, my father became free, having been emancipated by a direction in his will.
Henry B. Northup, Esq., of Sandy Hill, a distinguished counselor at law, and the man to whom, under Providence, I am indebted for my present liberty, and my return to the society of my wife and children, is a relative of the family in which my forefathers were thus held to service, and from which they took the name I bear. To this fact may be attributed the persevering interest he has taken in my behalf.
Sometime after my father's liberation, he removed to the town of Minerva, Essex county, N. Y., where I was born, in the month of July, 1808. How long he remained in the latter place I have not the means of definitely ascertaining. From thence he removed to Granville, Washington county, near a place known as Slyborough, where, for some years, he labored on the farm of Clark Northup, also a relative of his old master; from thence he removed to the Alden farm, at Moss Street, a short distance north of the village of Sandy Hill; and from thence to the farm now owned by Russel Pratt, situated on the road leading from Fort Edward to Argyle, where he continued to reside until his death, which took place on the 22d day of November, 1829. He left a widow and two children—myself, and Joseph, an elder brother. The latter is still living in the county of Oswego, near the city of that name; my mother died during the period of my captivity.
Though born a slave, and laboring under the disadvantages to which my unfortunate race is subjected, my father was a man respected for his industry and integrity, as many now living, who well remember him, are ready to testify. His whole life was passed in the peaceful pursuits of agriculture, never seeking employment in those more menial positions, which seem to be especially allotted to the children of Africa. Besides giving us an education surpassing that ordinarily bestowed upon children in our condition, he acquired, by his diligence and economy, a sufficient property qualification to entitle him to the right of suffrage. He was accustomed to speak to us of his early life; and although at all times cherishing the warmest emotions of kindness, and even of affection towards the family, in whose house he had been a bondsman, he nevertheless comprehended the system of Slavery, and dwelt with sorrow on the degradation of his race. He endeavored to imbue our minds with sentiments of morality, and to teach us to place our trust and confidence in Him who regards the humblest as well as the highest of his creatures. How often since that time has the recollection of his paternal counsels occurred to me, while lying in a slave hut in the distant and sickly regions of Louisiana, smarting with the undeserved wounds which an inhuman master had inflicted, and longing only for the grave which had covered him, to shield me also from the lash of the oppressor. In the church-yard at Sandy Hill, an humble stone marks the spot where he reposes, after having worthily performed the duties appertaining to the lowly sphere wherein God had appointed him to walk.
Up to this period I had been principally engaged with my father in the labors of the farm. The leisure hours allowed me were generally either employed over my books, or playing on the violin—an amusement which was the ruling passion of my youth. It has also been the source of consolation since, affording pleasure to the simple beings with whom my lot was cast, and beguiling my own thoughts, for many hours, from the painful contemplation of my fate.
On Christmas day, 1829, I was married to Anne Hampton, a colored girl then living in the vicinity of our residence. The ceremony was performed at Fort Edward, by Timothy Eddy, Esq., a magistrate of that town, and still a prominent citizen of the place. She had resided a long time at Sandy Hill, with Mr. Baird, proprietor of the Eagle Tavern, and also in the family of Rev. Alexander Proudfit, of Salem. This gentleman for many years had presided over the Presbyterian society at the latter place, and was widely distinguished for his learning and piety. Anne still holds in grateful remembrance the exceeding kindness and the excellent counsels of that good man. She is not able to determine the exact line of her descent, but the blood of three races mingles in her veins. It is difficult to tell whether the red, white, or black predominates. The union of them all, however, in her origin, has given her a singular but pleasing expression, such as is rarely to be seen. Though somewhat resembling, yet she cannot properly be styled a quadroon, a class to which, I have omitted to mention, my mother belonged.
I had just now passed the period of my minority, having reached the age of twenty-one years in the month of July previous. Deprived of the advice and assistance of my father, with a wife dependent upon me for support, I resolved to enter upon a life of industry; and notwithstanding the obstacle of color, and the consciousness of my lowly state, indulged in pleasant dreams of a good time coming, when the possession of some humble habitation, with a few surrounding acres, should reward my labors, and bring me the means of happiness and comfort.
From the time of my marriage to this day the love I have borne my wife has been sincere and unabated; and only those who have felt the glowing tenderness a father cherishes for his offspring, can appreciate my affection for the beloved children which have since been born to us. This much I deem appropriate and necessary to say, in order that those who read these pages, may comprehend the poignancy of those sufferings I have been doomed to bear.
Immediately upon our marriage we commenced house-keeping, in the old yellow building then standing at the southern extremity of Fort Edward village, and which has since been transformed into a modern mansion, and lately occupied by Captain Lathrop. It is known as the Fort House. In this building the courts were sometime held after the organization of the county. It was also occupied by Burgoyne in 1777, being situated near the old Fort on the left bank of the Hudson.
During the winter I was employed with others repairing the Champlain Canal, on that section over which William Van Nortwick was superintendent. David McEachron had the immediate charge of the men in whose company I labored. By the time the canal opened in the spring, I was enabled, from the savings of my wages, to purchase a pair of horses, and other things necessarily required in the business of navigation.
Having hired several efficient hands to assist me, I entered into contracts for the transportation of large rafts of timber from Lake Champlain to Troy. Dyer Beckwith and a Mr. Bartemy, of Whitehall, accompanied me on several trips. During the season I became perfectly familiar with the art and mysteries of rafting—a knowledge which afterwards enabled me to render profitable service to a worthy master, and to astonish the simple-witted lumbermen on the banks of the Bayou Bœuf.
In one of my voyages down Lake Champlain, I was induced to make a visit to Canada. Repairing to Montreal, I visited the cathedral and other places of interest in that city, from whence I continued my excursion to Kingston and other towns, obtaining a knowledge of localities, which was also of service to me afterwards, as will appear towards the close of this narrative.
Having completed my contracts on the canal satisfactorily to myself and to my employer, and not wishing to remain idle, now that the navigation of the canal was again suspended, I entered into another contract with Medad Gunn, to cut a large quantity of wood. In this business I was engaged during the winter of 1831-32.
With the return of spring, Anne and myself conceived the project of taking a farm in the neighborhood. I had been accustomed from earliest youth to agricultural labors, and it was an occupation congenial to my tastes. I accordingly entered into arrangements for a part of the old Alden farm, on which my father formerly resided. With one cow, one swine, a yoke of fine oxen I had lately purchased of Lewis Brown, in Hartford, and other personal property and effects, we proceeded to our new home in Kingsbury. That year I planted twenty-five acres of corn, sowed large fields of oats, and commenced farming upon as large a scale as my utmost means would permit. Anne was diligent about the house affairs, while I toiled laboriously in the field.
On this place we continued to reside until 1834. In the winter season I had numerous calls to play on the violin. Wherever the young people assembled to dance, I was almost invariably there. Throughout the surrounding villages my fiddle was notorious. Anne, also, during her long residence at the Eagle Tavern, had become somewhat famous as a cook. During court weeks, and on public occasions, she was employed at high wages in the kitchen at Sherrill's Coffee House.
We always returned home from the performance of these services with money in our pockets; so that, with fiddling, cooking, and farming, we soon found ourselves in the possession of abundance, and, in fact, leading a happy and prosperous life. Well, indeed, would it have been for us had we remained on the farm at Kingsbury; but the time came when the next step was to be taken towards the cruel destiny that awaited me.
In March, 1834, we removed to Saratoga Springs. We occupied a house belonging to Daniel O'Brien, on the north side of Washington street. At that time Isaac Taylor kept a large boarding house, known as Washington Hall, at the north end of Broadway. He employed me to drive a hack, in which capacity I worked for him two years. After this time I was generally employed through the visiting season, as also was Anne, in the United States Hotel, and other public houses of the place. In winter seasons I relied upon my violin, though during the construction of the Troy and Saratoga railroad, I performed many hard days' labor upon it.
I was in the habit, at Saratoga, of purchasing articles necessary for my family at the stores of Mr. Cephas Parker and Mr. William Perry, gentlemen towards whom, for many acts of kindness, I entertained feelings of strong regard. It was for this reason that, twelve years afterwards, I caused to be directed to them the letter, which is hereinafter inserted, and which was the means, in the hands of Mr. Northup, of my fortunate deliverance.
While living at the United States Hotel, I frequently met with slaves, who had accompanied their masters from the South. They were always well dressed and well provided for, leading apparently an easy life, with but few of its ordinary troubles to perplex them. Many times they entered into conversation with me on the subject of Slavery. Almost uniformly I found they cherished a secret desire for liberty. Some of them expressed the most ardent anxiety to escape, and consulted me on the best method of effecting it. The fear of punishment, however, which they knew was certain to attend their re-capture and return, in all cases proved sufficient to deter them from the experiment. Having all my life breathed the free air of the North, and conscious that I possessed the same feelings and affections that find a place in the white man's breast; conscious, moreover, of an intelligence equal to that of some men, at least, with a fairer skin, I was too ignorant, perhaps too independent, to conceive how any one could be content to live in the abject condition of a slave. I could not comprehend the justice of that law, or that religion, which upholds or recognizes the principle of Slavery; and never once, I am proud to say, did I fail to counsel any one who came to me, to watch his opportunity, and strike for freedom.
I continued to reside at Saratoga until the spring of 1841. The flattering anticipations which, seven years before, had seduced us from the quiet farm-house, on the east side of the Hudson, had not been realized. Though always in comfortable circumstances, we had not prospered. The society and associations at that world-renowned watering place, were not calculated to preserve the simple habits of industry and economy to which I had been accustomed, but, on the contrary, to substitute others in their stead, tending to shiftlessness and extravagance.
At this time we were the parents of three children—Elizabeth, Margaret, and Alonzo. Elizabeth, the eldest, was in her tenth year; Margaret was two years younger, and little Alonzo had just passed his fifth birth-day. They filled our house with gladness. Their young voices were music in our ears. Many an airy castle did their mother and myself build for the little innocents. When not at labor I was always walking with them, clad in their best attire, through the streets and groves of Saratoga. Their presence was my delight; and I clasped them to my bosom with as warm and tender love as if their clouded skins had been as white as snow.
Thus far the history of my life presents nothing whatever unusual—nothing but the common hopes, and loves, and labors of an obscure colored man, making his humble progress in the world. But now I had reached a turning point in my existence—reached the threshold of unutterable wrong, and sorrow, and despair. Now had I approached within the shadow of the cloud, into the thick darkness whereof I was soon to disappear, thenceforward to be hidden from the eyes of all my kindred, and shut out from the sweet light of liberty, for many a weary year.
CHAPTER II.
THE TWO STRANGERS—THE CIRCUS COMPANY—DEPARTURE FROM SARATOGA—VENTRILOQUISM AND LEGERDEMAIN—JOURNEY TO NEW-YORK—FREE PAPERS—BROWN AND HAMILTON—THE HASTE TO REACH THE CIRCUS—ARRIVAL IN WASHINGTON—FUNERAL OF HARRISON—THE SUDDEN SICKNESS—THE TORMENT OF THIRST—THE RECEDING LIGHT—INSENSIBILITY—CHAINS AND DARKNESS.
One morning, towards the latter part of the month of March, 1841, having at that time no particular business to engage my attention, I was walking about the village of Saratoga Springs, thinking to myself where I might obtain some present employment, until the busy season should arrive. Anne, as was her usual custom, had gone over to Sandy Hill, a distance of some twenty miles, to take charge of the culinary department at Sherrill's Coffee House, during the session of the court. Elizabeth, I think, had accompanied her. Margaret and Alonzo were with their aunt at Saratoga.
On the corner of Congress street and Broadway, near the tavern, then, and for aught I know to the contrary, still kept by Mr. Moon, I was met by two gentlemen of respectable appearance, both of whom were entirely unknown to me. I have the impression that they were introduced to me by some one of my acquaintances, but who, I have in vain endeavored to recall, with the remark that I was an expert player on the violin.
At any rate, they immediately entered into conversation on that subject, making numerous inquiries touching my proficiency in that respect. My responses being to all appearances satisfactory, they proposed to engage my services for a short period, stating, at the same time, I was just such a person as their business required. Their names, as they afterwards gave them to me, were Merrill Brown and Abram Hamilton, though whether these were their true appellations, I have strong reasons to doubt. The former was a man apparently forty years of age, somewhat short and thick-set, with a countenance indicating shrewdness and intelligence. He wore a black frock coat and black hat, and said he resided either at Rochester or at Syracuse. The latter was a young man of fair complexion and light eyes, and, I should judge, had not passed the age of twenty-five. He was tall and slender, dressed in a snuff-colored coat, with glossy hat, and vest of elegant pattern. His whole apparel was in the extreme of fashion. His appearance was somewhat effeminate, but prepossessing, and there was about him an easy air, that showed he had mingled with the world. They were connected, as they informed me, with a circus company, then in the city of Washington; that they were on their way thither to rejoin it, having left it for a short time to make an excursion northward, for the purpose of seeing the country, and were paying their expenses by an occasional exhibition. They also remarked that they had found much difficulty in procuring music for their entertainments, and that if I would accompany them as far as New-York, they would give me one dollar for each day's services, and three dollars in addition for every night I played at their performances, besides sufficient to pay the expenses of my return from New-York to Saratoga.
I at once accepted the tempting offer, both for the reward it promised, and from a desire to visit the metropolis. They were anxious to leave immediately. Thinking my absence would be brief, I did not deem it necessary to write to Anne whither I had gone; in fact supposing that my return, perhaps, would be as soon as hers. So taking a change of linen and my violin, I was ready to depart. The carriage was brought round—a covered one, drawn by a pair of noble bays, altogether forming an elegant establishment. Their baggage, consisting of three large trunks, was fastened on the rack, and mounting to the driver's seat, while they took their places in the rear, I drove away from Saratoga on the road to Albany, elated with my new position, and happy as I had ever been, on any day in all my life.
We passed through Ballston, and striking the ridge road, as it is called, if my memory correctly serves me, followed it direct to Albany. We reached that city before dark, and stopped at a hotel southward from the Museum.
This night I had an opportunity of witnessing one of their performances—the only one, during the whole period I was with them. Hamilton was stationed at the door; I formed the orchestra, while Brown provided the entertainment. It consisted in throwing balls, dancing on the rope, frying pancakes in a hat, causing invisible pigs to squeal, and other like feats of ventriloquism and legerdemain. The audience was extraordinarily sparse, and not of the selectest character at that, and Hamilton's report of the proceeds presented but a "beggarly account of empty boxes."
Early next morning we renewed our journey. The burden of their conversation now was the expression of an anxiety to reach the circus without delay. They hurried forward, without again stopping to exhibit, and in due course of time, we reached New-York, taking lodgings at a house on the west side of the city, in a street running from Broadway to the river. I supposed my journey was at an end, and expected in a day or two at least, to return to my friends and family at Saratoga. Brown and Hamilton, however, began to importune me to continue with them to Washington. They alleged that immediately on their arrival, now that the summer season was approaching, the circus would set out for the north. They promised me a situation and high wages if I would accompany them. Largely did they expatiate on the advantages that would result to me, and such were the flattering representations they made, that I finally concluded to accept the offer.
The next morning they suggested that, inasmuch as we were about entering a slave State, it would be well, before leaving New-York, to procure free papers. The idea struck me as a prudent one, though I think it would scarcely have occurred to me, had they not proposed it. We proceeded at once to what I understood to be the Custom House. They made oath to certain facts showing I was a free man. A paper was drawn up and handed us, with the direction to take it to the clerk's office. We did so, and the clerk having added something to it, for which he was paid six shillings, we returned again to the Custom House. Some further formalities were gone through with before it was completed, when, paying the officer two dollars, I placed the papers in my pocket, and started with my two friends to our hotel. I thought at the time, I must confess, that the papers were scarcely worth the cost of obtaining them—the apprehension of danger to my personal safety never having suggested itself to me in the remotest manner. The clerk, to whom we were directed, I remember, made a memorandum in a large book, which, I presume, is in the office yet. A reference to the entries during the latter part of March, or first of April, 1841, I have no doubt will satisfy the incredulous, at least so far as this particular transaction is concerned.
With the evidence of freedom in my possession, the next day after our arrival in New-York, we crossed the ferry to Jersey City, and took the road to Philadelphia. Here we remained one night, continuing our journey towards Baltimore early in the morning. In due time, we arrived in the latter city, and stopped at a hotel near the railroad depot, either kept by a Mr. Rathbone, or known as the Rathbone House. All the way from New-York, their anxiety to reach the circus seemed to grow more and more intense. We left the carriage at Baltimore, and entering the cars, proceeded to Washington, at which place we arrived just at nightfall, the evening previous to the funeral of General Harrison, and stopped at Gadsby's Hotel, on Pennsylvania Avenue.
After supper they called me to their apartments, and paid me forty-three dollars, a sum greater than my wages amounted to, which act of generosity was in consequence, they said, of their not having exhibited as often as they had given me to anticipate, during our trip from Saratoga. They moreover informed me that it had been the intention of the circus company to leave Washington the next morning, but that on account of the funeral, they had concluded to remain another day. They were then, as they had been from the time of our first meeting, extremely kind. No opportunity was omitted of addressing me in the language of approbation; while, on the other hand, I was certainly much prepossessed in their favor. I gave them my confidence without reserve, and would freely have trusted them to almost any extent. Their constant conversation and manner towards me—their foresight in suggesting the idea of free papers, and a hundred other little acts, unnecessary to be repeated—all indicated that they were friends indeed, sincerely solicitous for my welfare. I know not but they were. I know not but they were innocent of the great wickedness of which I now believe them guilty. Whether they were accessory to my misfortunes—subtle and inhuman monsters in the shape of men—designedly luring me away from home and family, and liberty, for the sake of gold—those who read these pages will have the same means of determining as myself. If they were innocent, my sudden disappearance must have been unaccountable indeed; but revolving in my mind all the attending circumstances, I never yet could indulge, towards them, so charitable a supposition.
After receiving the money from them, of which they appeared to have an abundance, they advised me not to go into the streets that night, inasmuch as I was unacquainted with the customs of the city. Promising to remember their advice, I left them together, and soon after was shown by a colored servant to a sleeping room in the back part of the hotel, on the ground floor. I laid down to rest, thinking of home and wife, and children, and the long distance that stretched between us, until I fell asleep. But no good angel of pity came to my bedside, bidding me to fly—no voice of mercy forewarned me in my dreams of the trials that were just at hand.
The next day there was a great pageant in Washington. The roar of cannon and the tolling of bells filled the air, while many houses were shrouded with crape, and the streets were black with people. As the day advanced, the procession made its appearance, coming slowly through the Avenue, carriage after carriage, in long succession, while thousands upon thousands followed on foot—all moving to the sound of melancholy music. They were bearing the dead body of Harrison to the grave.
From early in the morning, I was constantly in the company of Hamilton and Brown. They were the only persons I knew in Washington. We stood together as the funeral pomp passed by. I remember distinctly how the window glass would break and rattle to the ground, after each report of the cannon they were firing in the burial ground. We went to the Capitol, and walked a long time about the grounds. In the afternoon, they strolled towards the President's House, all the time keeping me near to them, and pointing out various places of interest. As yet, I had seen nothing of the circus. In fact, I had thought of it but little, if at all, amidst the excitement of the day.
My friends, several times during the afternoon, entered drinking saloons, and called for liquor. They were by no means in the habit, however, so far as I knew them, of indulging to excess. On these occasions, after serving themselves, they would pour out a glass and hand it to me. I did not become intoxicated, as may be inferred from what subsequently occurred. Towards evening, and soon after partaking of one of these potations, I began to experience most unpleasant sensations. I felt extremely ill. My head commenced aching—a dull, heavy pain, inexpressibly disagreeable. At the supper table, I was without appetite; the sight and flavor of food was nauseous. About dark the same servant conducted me to the room I had occupied the previous night. Brown and Hamilton advised me to retire, commiserating me kindly, and expressing hopes that I would be better in the morning. Divesting myself of coat and boots merely, I threw myself upon the bed. It was impossible to sleep. The pain in my head continued to increase, until it became almost unbearable. In a short time I became thirsty. My lips were parched. I could think of nothing but water—of lakes and flowing rivers, of brooks where I had stooped to drink, and of the dripping bucket, rising with its cool and overflowing nectar, from the bottom of the well. Towards midnight, as near as I could judge, I arose, unable longer to bear such intensity of thirst. I was a stranger in the house, and knew nothing of its apartments. There was no one up, as I could observe. Groping about at random, I knew not where, I found the way at last to a kitchen in the basement. Two or three colored servants were moving through it, one of whom, a woman, gave me two glasses of water. It afforded momentary relief, but by the time I had reached my room again, the same burning desire of drink, the same tormenting thirst, had again returned. It was even more torturing than before, as was also the wild pain in my head, if such a thing could be. I was in sore distress—in most excruciating agony! I seemed to stand on the brink of madness! The memory of that night of horrible suffering will follow me to the grave.
In the course of an hour or more after my return from the kitchen, I was conscious of some one entering my room. There seemed to be several—a mingling of various voices,—but how many, or who they were, I cannot tell. Whether Brown and Hamilton were among them, is a mere matter of conjecture. I only remember, with any degree of distinctness, that I was told it was necessary to go to a physician and procure medicine, and that pulling on my boots, without coat or hat, I followed them through a long passage-way, or alley, into the open street. It ran out at right angles from Pennsylvania Avenue. On the opposite side there was a light burning in a window. My impression is there were then three persons with me, but it is altogether indefinite and vague, and like the memory of a painful dream. Going towards the light, which I imagined proceeded from a physician's office, and which seemed to recede as I advanced, is the last glimmering recollection I can now recall. From that moment I was insensible. How long I remained in that condition—whether only that night, or many days and nights—I do not know; but when consciousness returned, I found myself alone, in utter darkness, and in chains.
The pain in my head had subsided in a measure, but I was very faint and weak. I was sitting upon a low bench, made of rough boards, and without coat or hat. I was hand-cuffed. Around my ankles also were a pair of heavy fetters. One end of a chain was fastened to a large ring in the floor, the other to the fetters on my ankles. I tried in vain to stand upon my feet. Waking from such a painful trance, it was some time before I could collect my thoughts. Where was I? What was the meaning of these chains? Where were Brown and Hamilton? What had I done to deserve imprisonment in such a dungeon? I could not comprehend. There was a blank of some indefinite period, preceding my awakening in that lonely place, the events of which the utmost stretch of memory was unable to recall. I listened intently for some sign or sound of life, but nothing broke the oppressive silence, save the clinking of my chains, whenever I chanced to move. I spoke aloud, but the sound of my voice startled me. I felt of my pockets, so far as the fetters would allow—far enough, indeed, to ascertain that I had not only been robbed of liberty, but that my money and free papers were also gone! Then did the idea begin to break upon my mind, at first dim and confused, that I had been kidnapped. But that I thought was incredible. There must have been some misapprehension—some unfortunate mistake. It could not be that a free citizen of New-York, who had wronged no man, nor violated any law, should be dealt with thus inhumanly. The more I contemplated my situation, however, the more I became confirmed in my suspicions. It was a desolate thought, indeed. I felt there was no trust or mercy in unfeeling man; and commending myself to the God of the oppressed, bowed my head upon my fettered hands, and wept most bitterly.
CHAPTER III.
PAINFUL MEDITATIONS—JAMES H. BURCH—WILLIAMS' SLAVE PEN IN WASHINGTON—THE LACKEY, RADBURN—ASSERT MY FREEDOM—THE ANGER OF THE TRADER—THE PADDLE AND CAT-O'-NINETAILS—THE WHIPPING—NEW ACQUAINTANCES—RAY, WILLIAMS, AND RANDALL—ARRIVAL OF LITTLE EMILY AND HER MOTHER IN THE PEN—MATERNAL SORROWS—THE STORY OF ELIZA.
Some three hours elapsed, during which time I remained seated on the low bench, absorbed in painful meditations. At length I heard the crowing of a cock, and soon a distant rumbling sound, as of carriages hurrying through the streets, came to my ears, and I knew that it was day. No ray of light, however, penetrated my prison. Finally, I heard footsteps immediately overhead, as of some one walking to and fro. It occurred to me then that I must be in an underground apartment, and the damp, mouldy odors of the place confirmed the supposition. The noise above continued for at least an hour, when, at last, I heard footsteps approaching from without. A key rattled in the lock—a strong door swung back upon its hinges, admitting a flood of light, and two men entered and stood before me. One of them was a large, powerful man, forty years of age, perhaps, with dark, chestnut-colored hair, slightly interspersed with gray. His face was full, his complexion flush, his features grossly coarse, expressive of nothing but cruelty and cunning. He was about five feet ten inches high, of full habit, and, without prejudice, I must be allowed to say, was a man whose whole appearance was sinister and repugnant. His name was James H. Burch, as I learned afterwards—a well-known slave-dealer in Washington; and then, or lately, connected in business, as a partner, with Theophilus Freeman, of New-Orleans. The person who accompanied him was a simple lackey, named Ebenezer Radburn, who acted merely in the capacity of turnkey. Both of these men still live in Washington, or did, at the time of my return through that city from slavery in January last.
The light admitted through the open door enabled me to observe the room in which I was confined. It was about twelve feet square—the walls of solid masonry. The floor was of heavy plank. There was one small window, crossed with great iron bars, with an outside shutter, securely fastened.
An iron-bound door led into an adjoining cell, or vault, wholly destitute of windows, or any means of admitting light. The furniture of the room in which I was, consisted of the wooden bench on which I sat, an old-fashioned, dirty box stove, and besides these, in either cell, there was neither bed, nor blanket, nor any other thing whatever. The door, through which Burch and Radburn entered, led through a small passage, up a flight of steps into a yard, surrounded by a brick wall ten or twelve feet high, immediately in rear of a building of the same width as itself. The yard extended rearward from the house about thirty feet. In one part of the wall there was a strongly ironed door, opening into a narrow, covered passage, leading along one side of the house into the street. The doom of the colored man, upon whom the door leading out of that narrow passage closed, was sealed. The top of the wall supported one end of a roof, which ascended inwards, forming a kind of open shed. Underneath the roof there was a crazy loft all round, where slaves, if so disposed, might sleep at night, or in inclement weather seek shelter from the storm. It was like a farmer's barnyard in most respects, save it was so constructed that the outside world could never see the human cattle that were herded there.
