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    12 Years a Slave
    12 Years a Slave
    12 Years a Slave
    Ebook305 pages5 hours

    12 Years a Slave

    By Solomon Northup

    4.5/5

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    A testimony of personal strength and a telling portrait of American slavery in the pre-Civil War South.

    When Solomon Northup, born a free black man in Saratoga, New York, was offered a short-term job with a circus in Washington, D.C., in 1841, he jumped at the opportunity. But when he arrived, he was kidnapped and sold into slavery in Louisiana. Finally, with the help of a Canadian abolitionist, he was rescued and reunited with his family in New York. In this memoir published in 1853, Northup tells the incredible story of his twelve years as a slave.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCanterbury Classics
    Release dateMar 15, 2014
    ISBN9781626862784
    Author

    Solomon Northup

    Solomon Northup was an American abolitionist and the primary author of the memoir Twelve Years a Slave. A free-born African American from New York, he was the son of a freed slave and a free woman of color.

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    Reviews for 12 Years a Slave

    4.5/5

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    • 5/5
      This audio book brought Solomon’s voice through Louis Gossett Jr. as he read the book to me in my car. Mr. Gossett Jr. did a fantastic job bringing the emotion through making Solomon very real to me. This book was heart breaking, gut wrenching, and opened my eyes even further to another part of slavery. I have not watched the movie yet as I wanted to read the book first.
      First of all, the concept of slavery just boggles my mind to begin with, it always has. The fact that white people thought they had the right to own another human has always baffled me and even more after listening to this book. It showed that there were a lot of bullies back then as there still are today. The brutal lashings after being stripped down and secured to the ground, the sorrow of children being taken from their mother, I can’t imagine anyone going through it. To be ripped away from what you know and love and then beaten to almost your death, there are no words.
      I still can’t believe slavery was abolished in 1865. That wasn’t very long ago yet the youth of today don’t realize how recently it happened. It chills me to think that just a hundred years before I was born this was going on. This book should be part of the American History curriculum for every High School. I know Solomon will be with me for the rest of my life.
    • 4/5
      A free black man in New York is kidnapped and sold into slavery in Louisiana, where he remains for a dozen years before he is rescued. It pulls no punches when describing the horrors of slavery, but what really struck me is how hard Northup worked to see the best in everyone. He does put a little more detail into the act of farming cotton and the description of stocks than I found strictly necessary, but his purpose was to educate his contemporaries about the realities of slavery, setting the record straight. He goes to great pains to give evidence that his story is true, and while he does speak about the wrongness of slavery as an institution, he is reasonable rather than preachy. Fascinating story.
    • 4/5
      This unforgettable memoir was the basis for the Academy Award-winning film 12 Years a Slave. This is the true story of Solomon Northup, who was born and raised as a freeman in New York. He lived the American dream, with a house and a loving family - a wife and two kids. Then one day he was drugged, kidnapped, and sold into slavery in the deep south. These are the true accounts of his twelve hard years as a slave - many believe this memoir is even more graphic and disturbing than the film. His extraordinary journey proves the resiliency of hope and the human spirit despite the most grueling and formidable of circumstances.
    • 5/5
      I expected a book written 160 years ago to have a much more dated style, but this one sounds surprisingly contemporary. The voice of the author, narrating his own experience, is real and natural, opening up a perspective to a horrible part of our history. It is fascinating and believable.
    • 4/5
      The name Solomon Northup meant nothing to me until I saw the film, Twelve Years a Slave.

      I don’t usually read a written work after seeing a film adaptation, but in this harrowing instance I made an exception.

      Why? Two reasons really. One, because having witnessed a director’s eye view of the story, I wanted to hear the voice of the man who had been kidnapped a free man and sold as a chattel into bondage. Two, Slavery is an age-old human outrage which is as much a vile horror in today’s world as it was during Solomon Northup’s day and across the world for millennia before that.

      Solomon’s account shines as the work of an educated and talented man, whose downfall begins when he trusts the wrong people. Believing he could supplement the household income - during the temporary absence of his family – by accepting a two week job, playing the violin; he is lured by two villains to Washington, where he is drugged. Regaining consciousness he finds himself manacled hand and foot in a dark cellar, and stripped of clothes and possessions.
      On protesting his status as a free man, Northup suffers a near fatal beating by two strangers, and learns that the men he trusted with the promise of work had tricked him and sold him into slavery.

      On leaving the confines of the cellar to be transported, with a small group of unfortunates, to the Southern cotton plantations, the author glimpses the distant outline of the White House, a sad irony not lost to him.

      I didn’t enjoy this book. It was far more detailed than the film, which I also didn’t enjoy. I felt both had an essential message however, and both gave testament that there are no depths below which the human animal will stoop when dealing with his fellow man.

    • 4/5
      Solomon Northup was born a free man in New York State. At the age of 33 he was kidnapped in Washington D.C. and placed in an underground slave pen. Northup was transported by ship to New Orleans where he was sold into slavery. He spent the next 12 years working as a carpenter, driver, and cotton picker. This narrative reveals how Northup survived the harsh conditions of slavery, including smallpox, lashings, and an attempted hanging. Solomon Northup was among a select few who were freed from slavery.My Thoughts:The description of the book really tells the reader what to expect with this true account of the authors experiences. The story is really harrowing and it is awful what human beings can do to each other.I wouldn’t say that the book is an enjoyable one because of its content and at times it was awful. I especially found the floggings terrible and worse of all was what happened to Patsey. After that event I found that I couldn’t stand anymore so I was skipping towards the end just to see how the author did find his freedom again.A very harrowing tale but at times very compelling but I wouldn’t say it was a nice read. I am glad that I did read this book albeit it hard at times to read the content.
    • 4/5
      Solomon Northup, a free black living in the free state of New York, was kidnapped and sold into slavery where he barely survived brutal and inhuman treatment at he hands go his "owner." The horrific conditions of the slaves and their oppression are aptly told with clarity and without exaggeration.
    • 5/5
      There is no question that Solomon Northup is a hero of American History. This Slave narrative, 12 YEARS A SLAVE, by SOLOMON NORTHUP, is unforgettable. I think the story is not only amazing but also miraculous. When I met Solomon Northup, he was a slave. Solomon Northup is born a free man. He lives in Upstate New York. He has a wife named Anne and three children. He is a hard working man and a honest man. Until one day his whole life changes. It is difficult to believe there are indeed rascals and scoundrels on the earth and in the vicinity where you live especially when you've been taught all the bad men or evil masters are down South. On this particular day, Mr. Northup befriends two men. Two men who will take him South and sell him to a Southern planter. Solomon Northup had no idea of their ugly plans. For twelve years Solomon Northup does not mention he is a free man. He works harder than a dog. He is beaten. He is treated like he was born into slavery. I could not see how his life could ever change, how he could regroup from such a trial and test. I can't imagine losing my whole family in one day. Never hearing whether they are dead or alive for twelve long years. This man, now not a man but an animal, to his slave holders, continues to struggle through each day. I think he had quite a bit of faith. He never praises himself in the narrative. He does finally call himself upright. How does he look upon slavery? He calls it a "peculiar institution." Other than that he will not judge this way of life in any way. He will leave it to other men and women. Along with Solomon Northup, I met the other slaves around him. I had the chance to read about them. One woman still lives in my head. She had two children. She begged, screamed, begged, "please don't sell my children from me." Those who know about American slavery can guess what happened to her and her children. I could hear her voice in my head because it was my voice. If any man would have taken my children from me to an unknown place, I would have died. I would not have had the fortitude to live on. But how many men and women did live through those days without hope of seeing or hearing their children again? Only an inhumane person could do such a thing to another person. This woman's story is a testament to the horrors of slavery. It made me think about my values in life. I now believe more fully nothing is impossible in life. Perhaps this is why people say the truth is stranger than fiction. Number two is that I must always keep putting one foot in front of the other foot as I journey through the adventures, unwanted adventures, of my life. I must also remember my scars from life whether emotional or physical in no way touch what the slave ancestors lived each and every day of their short lives. Strange, one man's narrative has the power two and a half centuries later to give hope to people of another generation. His voice speaks from the grave. He still lives because his story lives. His last wish was to lie in the church graveyard and finally go home to the Lord. Little did he know how much his life would mean to future old and young people. It is a disservice if these slave narratives are not read in our schools and discussed with relevance.I have been moved by other slave narratives: for example Frederick Douglass's narrative and The Incidents in a Slave Girl's Life. Truly, I think this one, 12 YEARS A SLAVE, is my favorite. Why? Simply because he already had that most precious gift, freedom. He had experienced it. Not just wished for it. He had it. It was stolen from him. How in the world must he have felt? And that is what made me want to read this narrative. I named two lesson from the narrative by Solomon Northup. There are more than any two I named. As I remember Northup, I will not forget Epps, his wife or the other slaves who worked around him. The slaves had no idea he was a free man until the day Henry Northup came to pick him up and take him back to New York State and his family. Therefore, Solomon Northup taught me the importance of knowing the power of silence at the right hour.As the young people say, "he kept it "real" for twelve long years. That's a mighty long time to give free labor while you are treated as less than a man in every way. In the end, Epps still called Northup "that d______d nigger." He didn't change one bit in his thinking. As a matter of fact he headed out on his horse to find a way to stop this foolish behavior. Had the world gone nuts? To Epps and white men like him, yes, the world was losing its way. Their workers in a few year would be set free. The Land of Cotton was in danger. Who else would do such work with so little food and clothing while being beater with whips?If only the "men or masters" around Northup, had looked at that last name. It would have told them life was going to change for the better and the North would help it happen. When it begun to happen, the Civil War, there would be no way for the slaves to go but "up." Up in their geography and Up in their thinking..america.aljazeera.com/watch/shows/america-tonight/subject-of-12yearsaslave150yearsinwronggrave.html
    • 5/5
      This is a very old story... a plague from throughout human history. Even though Solomon is revealing his personal story from a 160 years ago, it is as fresh as if it happened today. Why? Because it still is happening today. Human trafficking is a blight on humanity... not only on those who participate but on those who are not outraged enough to do something about it. If you read this book and then continue to ignore the plight of sex-slave victims in your own town, state, country, and world, you are as guilty as those who pick up the whip and flail the backs of the down-troddened and victimized women and children every day. Read this book and then become an advocate for the poor and defenseless until this blight is removed.
    • 5/5
      Wrenching, important book by Simon Northrup, an African American free man who is kidnapped and sold into slavery. Written in 1853 (?), apparently helped move public opinion against slavery. Well read performance by Louis Gossett, Jr. (listened to this several months before the movie was released)
    • 4/5
      Just....Excellent and Amazing!!
    • 5/5
      This is one of those books everyone should read. Northrup’s account of his kidnapping and twelve years of enslavement is made even more poignant by the matter-of-fact style of his narrative.
    • 5/5
      Don't be off-put by the Victorian language. We can blame Northup's editor for that. The book is a must-read document. I would have found the story too incredible to believe if not for the painstaking research of Clifford Brown, Rachel Seligman, and David Friske who drew on original sources for their biography, Solomon Northup: The Complete Story of the Author of Twelve Years A Slave.
    • 5/5
      The true story of a black American freeman in the 1840s-50s who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in the southern states. After enduring 12 years of servitude he was eventually freed after managing to contact a relative of the man who had set his ancestors free. The experiences he recounts are both shocking and moving, though he himself notes at the end that he may have given an overly positive impression of life as a slave. It was a difficult read, but well worth it. His faith through all circumstances is as inspiring as is disgusting the way certain owners misused scripture to support their barbaric treatment. Although he makes reference to the abolitionist movement he is careful not to overstep the role alotted him as a black man in those days by presuming to preach to the reader, instead leaving them to draw their own conclusions. I certainly don't think I could have been so diplomatic if I were in his place.
    • 5/5
      This is an extremely powerful and heart-wrenching book. If you're familiar with the movie, you know the story already. The book just has more to it, such as details of the workings of various plantation elements, how holidays were celebrated in slavery, and lots more really interesting stuff. His story is hugely impactful, and the details he gives are plentiful. It can be very disturbing at times, as it does contain a lot of violent scenes in depictions of how slaves were treated, but it is well worth reading, even if you have seen the movie already.
    • 4/5
      I read this book a few months ago and I was just so fascinated with it. It is a book that you do not want to put down. It reveals the harsh reality of what slaves had to put up with. It focuses on the life of Solomon Northup, a former slave who was once a free man but kidnapped into slavery for 12 long years. This book takes you through his enitre journey of being kidnapped until returning home. He is finally freed when he is able to write to family and friends and they come to prove who he is and that he is a free man. This book is for adult readers, in my opinion.
    • 4/5
      Although one cannot inherently trust everything in an autobiography, this was a compelling tale. I can only imagine how I would feel if I were ever kidnapped and forced into slavery but I certainly sympathize with the author in his plight.

      Some chapters of the book bordered on tedium; giving detailed accounts of a slave's existence but, I understood the author's need to give an account in such a way. And of course, the boring parts of the story were offset with all the drama and excitement of the whole story.
    • 5/5
      I received this free from Story Cartel in exchange for an honest review.

      Wow, what a narrative! Solomon Northup gave a first hand account of what it was really like to be a slave in Louisiana in the mid 1800's, prior to the Civil War. He was obviously very well educated, as his writing and vocabulary surpasses what is the "norm" today. I both listened to the audio book, narrated by Louis Gossett, Jr., and read the printed book. I loved the audio best, however. It made me sick to hear how badly slaves were usually treated, like pieces of furniture, less than dogs, and for no reason, and at the whim of their masters. Yes, slavery was a way of life in the south, but it was a horrible way of life for the slave. I now want to find out more about Solomon and his family, what happened after he regained his freedom, how long did he live, and what became of his family and descendants. It's so very interesting, and is don't know if there are any other true stories written about slavery by slaves. I highly recommend this book, and now want to re-watch the movie (which I saw before reading the book, when it first came out).
    • 5/5
      A compelling read. Have read the 'Enhanced Edition' by Dr. Sue Eakins and am so impressed by the detail of her research of this historical figure. Highly recommend.
    • 4/5
      A gripping real life account of Solomon Northup, kidnapped from Washington city in 1841 and transported into slavery in Louisiana, where he spent 12 years before being freed. It is a moving account of his sufferings, but there were others such as Patsy—a slave whose master could not control his carnal desire for her, and whose mistress then had him punish her for it—who had it worse, and I wanted to sweep her up into my arms and take her away from all that. It surprised me that Solomon felt the need to include an appendix with copies of the legal documentation that proved he was a free man. To me this seemed to conflict with his notion that slavery was a legal and moral abomination. Nevertheless, history doesn’t get any more real than this.
    • 5/5
      The story of a free black man, Solomon Northup of New York, who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in the deep south before the Civil War. He tells of how he was tricked into going South, the trials he faced laboring as a slave for 12 years, and how he finally regained his freedom.
    • 4/5
      This is a very powerful memoir of a free man who is sold into slavery in the South. It is a very moving telling of the horrors of slavery.
    • 5/5
      While this story is alarmingly violent and more horrible because it's a true story, it was easier, for me, reading it, than it was to watch the movie... Somehow, knowing I can put the book down when it becomes unbearably sad, scary, aggravating... that makes it easier for me.
    • 4/5
      I read the book because I wanted to see the movie but after reading the book I don't think I could handle the movie. The subject of Slavery just upsets me so much! As far as this book Mr Northup did a great job in relating his experience.
    • 5/5
      I enjoy reading books, especially autobiographies, from the 1800s--this one published in 1853 and was a bestseller at the time. The movie made from this book is nominated for several Oscars. It bothers me that we're so ignorant of our history that we have to "rediscover" books from just 150 years ago. This book is available for free since it's way past copyright, but you can buy an updated annotated version by some professors who researched the history. The version I listened to was read by Louis Gossett, Jr. which made it great. Solomon Northrup's story was supposedly used as the historical basis for Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin.

      *spoilers below*

      Northrup was born a free black man and lived in New York where he owned property and made a good living for himself and his family. One day, some travelers offer to pay him for his services in playing the violin and convince him to travel to New York City, where he obtains legal proof of his freedom, and onward to Washington, D.C. where Northrup is kidnapped and cruelly sold into slavery, within sight of the Capitol; the irony of this is lost on no one.

      He is transported to New Orleans and recounts the sad tales of other slaves along his journey. For example, one woman was the slave mistress of a master who seemingly had loved her and promised to free her. When she thought that day had arrived, she was instead delivered to an auction with her children, and she is to be resold in New Orleans. She is desperate to keep her children with her and her new purchaser offers to buy her daughter, but her owner will not sell her because she is beautiful and will fetch a large sum from men for her use when she's older.

      Northrup is able to sneak a letter off of his slave transport, which reaches his family in New York (he later learned) but they are unable to do anything without more information on his whereabouts. This is the last letter he is able to send for the next 12 years as it was forbidden for slaves to get access to pen and paper, and illegal for a post office to mail a letter from a slave without his master's consent. It's a crime to kidnap and sell a free man, so his story could get many in trouble (and cause later masters to lose possession of him) for which he fears his own life. Northrup is given the name of Platt and lives by that name for 12 years, keeping his real story secret. This also hinders any chance of recovery by his family.

      He is purchased by a "good, Christian man" and Northrup remarks at the way slavery is seen by Christians in the North as anathema but in the South they see no problem with it; his first master actually is kind to his slaves and reads Scripture to them on Sundays-- Northrup enjoys working for him and endeavors to please him. Reading and thinking recently about the theology of work, the way a man can take pride in his own work no matter the situation is very instructive for me. Northrup observes that the better slaves are treated, the harder and more earnestly they work; but always, they long for freedom. They know there are places where there is no slavery and it's a heavenly dream to them.

      When the kind master falls on hard financial times, Northrup is mortgaged and then sold to a notoriously harsh carpenter who twice tries to kill him-- and Northrup responds by beating the man almost to death the first time, running away back to his original master the next. Northrup was able to escape only because he had learned to swim in the North, whereas it was forbidden for slaves to learn to swim in the South. He serves another master (Epps) for ten years, and Epps, like most masters, treat their slaves cruelly.

      He encounters everything from Indians to Cajuns to runaway slaves in Louisiana and engages in various occupations on a few plantations, being repeatedly resold or leased out. He develops a reputation everywhere he goes of being remarkable-- both for his beating of previous taskmaster, and to his intelligent work. He recounts the daily fears of working the plantation during cotton season; whippings in the fields for small mistakes, whippings at the gin for bringing in too much or too little cotton, the fear of being late, or of going hungry. He details the processes of cotton, corn, and sugar harvesting and processing. He recounts the fate of slave escapes and rebellions-- always ending badly. If you've seen Roots or really any PBS documentary discussing slave life, nothing in this book will shock you. There are a couple of grotesque scenes that vividly portray the depravity of men given license to do as they wish with other men-- one act which Northrup rightly describes as "demonic." What you glean from it is the perspective of a man who was always aware of what freedom was-- like a prisoner unjustly imprisoned with little hope of release.

      Some new details that stood out to me about slave life are that slaves were usually given 3-6 days off at Christmas, but worked the other 360 days. At Christmas, plantation owners would host a large feast for the slaves, and the slaves would have a lively dancing party that was looked forward to the whole year. They were also traditionally given a pass to go where they pleased for those days, and most slaves took time to visit loved ones on other plantations. Any work done in the Christmas season (and on Sundays year round) had to be compensated by law-- and that's how slaves were able to afford food and other necessities not provided. Solomon goes 12 years without sleeping on a bed, just floors with a blanket used for horses. Most slaveowning households had a tense relationship between the wife and the slaveowner's slave mistress. This plays out on several occasions in the book.

      In Why Nations Fail (my review), Acemoğlu and Robinson point out that the South lagged behind the North in terms of patents filed during the slave plantation period--there was little innovation. This is evident in that Solomon modifies tools and practices based on simple things he had seen in the North and these are huge innovations on the plantations that his masters praise him for. Unfortunately, it makes him too valuable to sell to the one abolitionist he encounters-- a man named Bass.

      Bass is a Canadian journeyman carpenter who finds work on the plantations. At one point he lectures Northrup's master on the equality of the races and how ungodly slavery is. Overhearing this, Northrup confides in Bass and Bass devotes his life to helping emancipate him, primarily by mailing letters to Northrup's acquaintances in the North. The Governor of New York is enlisted (by law) to begin the process of retrieving Northrup, and eventually an emissary is sent to find Northrup. It was providential that the emissary is directed to Bass just before he sets out on a long journey, and they are then able to find Northrup's plantation. Northrup's master and other authorities fight the extradition, but Northrup is freed and quickly returns to Washington, D.C. where his kidnapper is prosecuted-- and the case is dismissed for lack of evidence and due to witnesses who contradict Northrup. Northrup hopes his book's publication is some vindication, I believe.

      At last, Northrup returns home. Truly remarkable providence that he encountered Bass and that things worked themselves out as they did. Northrup ends the book by remarking that doubtless hundreds of other free men are enslaved in the South. One marvels that it would be another decade and hundreds of thousands of American lives lost before the institution would be ended.

      This is a 5 star book.
    • 5/5
      Twelve Years a Slave is one of the better known book-length slave narratives from the 19th century, of which there were about 100 published prior to the Civil War. Northup was an educated free man from New York who was kidnapped and transported to the the infamous Mississippi Delta, sort of the 'eastern front' of slavery in America, where the most brutal of conditions existed. He experienced families broken apart, a diet of corn meal and wild-caught bush meat, no medical care, no furniture or cooking utensils, constant whippings by capricious and sadistic white men (and women), the occasion kindness, runaways and dogs and swamps - all background elements to an amazing story of finding home again.

      It helped to follow the story on a map, here is the location of Ebbs plantation, no longer in existence but one can use Street View to travel around the fields. With the film soon to be released there will be a lot of deserved interest in the book. I listened to it as Audiobook, the professional voice acting brings it to life, the accented idioms and singing and so on. There are two excellent versions, both narrated by African American actors, one by Louis Gossett, Jr. and the other by Richard Allen. I listened to the Allen version, which I think is now unfairly overshadowed by Gossett, of Roots fame, but both are good in their way.
    • 4/5
      Born a freeman in New York State in 1808, married with three children, Soloman was offered a short term job in Washington, DC to play his violin at a circus. However, he was drugged and shipped to Louisiana as a slave. For 12 years he worked on several plantations on the Red River recording names, places and conditions in his head all the while trying to find some way to communicate his whereabouts to his family and friends in New York.

      Eventually a Canadian working as a handyman in the area who had shown strong views about the injustice of slavery mailed a letter home for him which resulted in the Governor of New York sending an agent to Louisiana to free him.

      I had thought that this would be a difficult read because it was written in the 1850`s but I was pleasantly surprised to find Solomon was an excellent writer and his narrative flowed along quickly. As with any book that describes slavery or injustice to fellow humans such as the Holocaust, one wonders at man`s ability to mistreat his fellow human beings. In the case of slavery in the southern USA, it is how white religious men & woman justified it with the Bible that always rankles me.
    • 5/5
      Published in 1853, this is the true life account of Solomon Northup, free man of Saratoga NY, properly educated as a child, married with three children and one time owner of a ferry service on the Hudson River. Through deceit and trickery, he was enticed to Washington DC with a job offer, drugged, kidnapped, and sold into slavery. He was shipped to a slave market in New Orleans where he was sold to William Ford. His time with the kindly Ford was short lived. Due to financial troubles, Ford was forced to sell Northup to the violent and volatile Edwin Epps. Northup toiled for almost 11 years in backwoods Louisiana before being rescued and restored to his family. Upon his return to freedom, Northup brought charges against the perpetrators. The case in NY was dropped due to issues over jurisdiction. The case in DC resulted in an acquittal because Northup, a black man, was not allowed to testify there.

      Northup's book was an instant success, selling 30,000 copies. Unlike other slavery accounts of the day, it was written from the perspective and experiences of a free man who finds himself so horribly betrayed and enslaved. His writing was not polemical. (He actually had kind words to say about his first master.) Accordingly, his writing was given greater weight as a true account, written without an agenda. Sympathy for his plight spurred abolitionists and won the approbation of Harriet Beecher Stowe, who stated it magnified and informed her Uncle Tom’s Cabin. In the last days of the Civil War, Union soldiers remarkably searched out Edwin Epps, who agreed Northup’s account was factual. Northup spoke movingly and well about his experiences and was sought on the speechmaking circuit. Before being lost to history, documentary evidence also indicates he actively assisted slaves to freedom on the Underground Railroad.

      How does this account hold up for modern eyes? Northup’s story is written with all of the verbal flourishes of mid 19th century literature. You will not want to read Twelve Years A Slave for the quality of the prose but rather for the powerful impact of his experiences. I was particularly moved by his palpable love of his wife and children. There is a searing account of one woman’s agony and grief upon being separated from her children at the slave market. Most heartrending is the fate of Patsy, forever caught between the unwanted libidinous interest of her master and the punishments of her spiteful jealous mistress. Historically important both in Northup’s time and ours, this unique perspective on a now incomprehensible way of life is highly recommended.
    • 5/5
      A heartbreaking account of Soloman Nothup's kidnapping. How he was taken from his family, being a free man and forced into bondage for 12 years. The worse for it being a true story! How heartless owners whipped and used him to within an inch of his life, just because he was a black man!
      A brilliant read, written in language that is evocative of the times. The book on which the film of the same name was based
    • 4/5
      I saw the film first, which rather colours ones view somewhat. But both are great in different ways.
      I still cannot get over the fact that this intense barbarity went on only 150 years ago.

    Book preview

    12 Years a Slave - Solomon Northup

    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 appealed.

    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.

    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 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

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