Twelve Years a Slave: Narrative of Solomon 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 LouisianaNorthup, Solomon
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Twelve Years a Slave: Narrative of Solomon 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
Northup, Solomon
African Americans -- Biography; Enslaved persons -- United States -- Biography; Enslaved persons' writings, American; Northup, Solomon, 1808-1863?; Plantation life -- Louisiana -- History -- 19th century; Slavery -- Louisiana -- History -- 19th century
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.
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