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
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.
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