Twelve Years a Slave - Enhanced Edition

by Solomon Northup

  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 M’COY, THE BEAUTY OF BAYOU BOEUF—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—THE COLD MORNING—EPPS’ THREATS—THE PASSING CARRIAGE—STRANGERS APPROACHING THROUGH THE COTTON-FIELD—LAST HOUR ON BAYOU BOEUF.

  Faithful to his word on the night before Christmas, Bass came riding into the yard.

  “How are you,” said Epps, shaking him by the hand, “glad to see you.”

  He would not have been very glad had he known the object of his errand.

  “Quite well, quite well,” answered Bass. “Had some business out on the bayou, and concluded to call and see you, and stay over night.”

  Epps ordered one of the slaves to take charge of his horse, and with much talk and laughter they passed into the house together; not, however, until Bass had looked at me significantly, as much as to say, “Keep dark, we understand each other.” It was ten o’clock at night before the labors of the day were performed, when I entered the cabin. At that time Uncle Abram and Bob occupied it with me. I laid down upon my board and feigned I was asleep. When my companions had fallen into a profound slumber, I moved stealthily out of the door, and watched, and listened attentively for some sign or sound from Bass. There I stood until long after midnight, but nothing could be seen or heard. As I suspected, he dared not leave the house, through fear of exciting the suspicion of some of the family. I judged, correctly, he would rise earlier than was his custom, and take the opportunity of seeing me before Epps was up. Accordingly I aroused Uncle Abram an hour sooner than usual, and sent him into the house to build a fire, which, at that season of the year, is a part of Uncle Abram’s duties.

  I also gave Bob a violent shake, and asked him if he intended to sleep until noon, saying master would be up before the mules were fed. He knew right well the consequence that would follow such an event, and, jumping to his feet, was at the horse-pasture in a twinkling.

  Presently when both were gone, Bass slipped into the cabin.

  “No letter yet, Platt,” said he. The announcement fell upon my heart like lead.

  “Oh, do write again, Master Bass,” I cried; “I will give you the names of a great many I know. Surely they are not all dead. Surely some one will pity me.”

  “No use,” Bass replied, “no use. I have made up my mind to that. I fear the Marksville post-master will mistrust something, I had inquired so often at his office. Too uncertain—too dangerous.”195

  “Then it is all over,” I exclaimed. “Oh, my God, how can I end my days here!”

  “You’re not going to end them here,” he said, “unless you die very soon. I’ve thought this matter all over, and have come to a determination. There are more ways than one to manage this business, and a better and surer way than writing letters. I have a job or two on hand which can be completed by March or April. By that time I shall have a considerable sum of money, and then, Platt, I am going to Saratoga myself.”

  I could scarcely credit my own senses as the words fell from his lips. But he assured me, in a manner that left no doubt of the sincerity of his intention, that if his life was spared until spring, he should certainly undertake the journey.

  “I have lived in this region long enough,” he continued; “I may as well be in one place as another. For a long time I have been thinking of going back once more to the place where I was born. I’m tired of Slavery as well as you. If I can succeed in getting you away from here, it will be a good act that I shall like to think of all of my life. And I shall succeed, Platt; I’m bound to do it. Now let me tell you what I want. Epps will be up soon, and it won’t do to be caught here. Think of a great many men at Saratoga and Sandy Hill, and in that neighborhood, who once knew you. I shall make excuse to come here again in the course of the winter, when I will write down their names. I will then know who to call on when I go north. Think of all you can. Cheer up! Don’t be discouraged. I’m with you, life or death. Good-bye. God bless you,” and saying that he left the cabin quickly and entered the great house.

  It was Christmas morning—the happiest day in the whole year for the slave. That morning he need not hurry to the field, with his gourd and cotton-bag. Happiness sparkled in the eyes and overspread the countenances of all. The time of feasting and dancing had come. The cane and cotton fields were deserted. That day the clean dress was to be donned—the red ribbon displayed; there were to be re-unions, and joy and laughter, and hurrying to and fro. It was to be a day of liberty among the children of Slavery. Wherefore they were happy, and rejoiced.

  After breakfast Epps and Bass sauntered about the yard, conversing upon the price of cotton, and various other topics.

  “Where do your niggers hold Christmas?” Bass inquired.

  “Platt is going to Tanners to-day. His fiddle is in great demand. They want him at Marshall’s Monday, and Miss Mary McCoy, on the old Norwood plantation, writes me a note that she wants him to play for her niggers Tuesday.”196

  “He is rather a smart boy, ain’t he?” said Bass. “Come here, Platt,” he added, looking at me as I walked up to them, as if he had never thought before to take any special notice of me.

  “Yes,” replied Epps, taking hold of my arm and feeling it, “there isn’t a bad joint in him. There ain’t a boy on the bayou worth more than he is—perfectly sound, and no bad tricks. D—n him, he isn’t like other niggers; doesn’t look like ‘em—don’t act like ‘em. I was offered seventeen hundred dollars for him last week.”

  “And didn’t take it?” Bass inquired, with an air of surprise.

  “Take it—no; devilish clear of it. Why, he’s a reg’lar genius; can make a plough beam, wagon tongue—anything, as well as you can. Marshall wanted to put up one of his niggers agin him and raffle for them, but I told him I would see the devil have him first.”

  “I don’t see anything remarkable about him,” Bass observed.

  “Why, just feel of him, now,” Epps rejoined. “You don’t see a boy very often put together any closer than he is. He’s a thin-skin’d cuss, and won’t bear as much whipping as some; but he’s got the muscle in him, and no mistake.”

  Bass felt of me, turned me round, and made a thorough examination, Epps all the while dwelling on my good points. But his visitor seemed to take but little interest finally in the subject, and consequently it was dropped. Bass soon departed, giving me another sly look of recognition and significance, as he trotted out of the yard.

  When he was gone I obtained a pass, and started for Tanner’s—not Peter Tanner’s, of whom mention has previously been made, but a relative of his. I played during the day and most of the night, and spending the next day, Sunday, in my cabin. Monday I crossed the bayou to Douglas Marshall’s,197 all Epps’ slaves accompanying me, and on Tuesday went to the old Norwood place, which is the third plantation above Marshall’s, on the same side of the water.

  This estate is now owned by Miss Mary McCoy, a lovely girl, some twenty years of age. She is the beauty and the glory of Bayou Boeuf. She owns about a hundred working hands, besides a great many house servants, yard boys, and young children. Her brother-in-law, who resides on the adjoining estate, is her general agent. She is beloved by all her slaves, and good reason indeed have they to be thankful that they have fallen into such gentle hands. Nowhere on the bayou are there such feasts, such merrymaking, as at young Madam McCoy’s. Thither, more than to any other place, do the old and the young for miles around love to repair in the time of the Christmas holidays; for nowhere else can they find such delicious repasts; nowhere else can they hear a voice speaking to them so pleasantly. No one is so well beloved—no one fills so large a space in the hearts of a thous
and slaves, as young Madam McCoy, the orphan mistress of the old Norwood estate.

  On my arrival at her place, I found two or three hundred had assembled. The table was prepared in a long building, which she had erected expressly for her slaves to dance in. It was covered with every variety of food the country afforded, and was pronounced by general acclamation to be the rarest of dinners. Roast turkey, pig, chicken, duck, and all kinds of meat, baked, boiled, and broiled, formed a line the whole length of the extended table, while the vacant spaces were filled with tarts, jellies, and frosted cake, and pastry of many kinds. The young mistress walked around the table, smiling and saying a kind word to each one, and seemed to enjoy the scene exceedingly.

  When the dinner was over the tables were removed to make room for the dancers. I tuned my violin and struck up a lively air; while some joined in a nimble reel, others patted and sang their simple but melodious songs, filling the great room with music mingled with the sound of human voices and the clatter of many feet.

  In the evening the mistress returned, and stood in the door a long time, looking at us. She was magnificently arrayed. Her dark hair and eyes contrasted strongly with her clear and delicate complexion. Her form was slender but commanding, and her movement was a combination of unaffected dignity and grace. As she stood there, clad in her rich apparel, her face animated with pleasure, I thought I had never looked upon a human being half so beautiful. I dwell with delight upon the description of this fair and gentle lady, not only because she inspired me with emotions of gratitude and admiration, but because I would have the reader understand that all slave-owners on Bayou Boeuf are not like Epps, or Tibeats, or Jim Burns. Occasionally can be found, rarely it may be, indeed, a good man like William Ford, or an angel of kindness like young Mistress McCoy.

  Tuesday concluded the three holidays Epps yearly allowed us. On my way home, Wednesday morning, while passing the plantation of William Pierce, that gentleman hailed me, saying he had received a line from Epps, brought down by William Varnell, permitting him to detain me for the purpose of playing for his slaves that night.198 It was the last time I was destined to witness a slave dance on the shores of Bayou Boeuf. The party at Pierce’s continued their jollification until broad daylight, when I returned to my master’s house; somewhat wearied with the loss of rest, but rejoicing with the possession of numerous bits and picayunes, which the whites, who were pleased with my musical performances, had contributed. 199

  On Saturday morning, for the first time in years, I overslept myself. I was frightened on coming out of the cabin to find the slaves were already in the field. They had preceded me some fifteen minutes. Leaving my dinner and water-gourd, I hurried after them as fast as I could move. It was not yet sunrise, but Epps was on the piazza as I left the hut, and cried out to me that it was a pretty time of day to be getting up. By extra exertion my row was up when he came out after breakfast. This, however, was no excuse for the offence of oversleeping. Bidding me strip and lie down, he gave me ten or fifteen lashes, at the conclusion of which he inquired if I thought, after that, I could get up sometime in the morning. I expressed myself quite positively that I could, and, with back stinging with pain, went about my work.

  The following day, Sunday, my thoughts were upon Bass, and the probabilities and hopes which hung upon his action and determination. I considered the uncertainty of life; that if it should be the will of God that he should die, my prospect of deliverance, and all expectation of happiness in this world, would be wholly ended and destroyed. My sore back, perhaps, did not have a tendency to render me unusually cheerful. I felt down-hearted and unhappy all day long, and when I laid down upon the hard board at night, my heart was oppressed with such a load of grief, it seemed that it must break.

  Monday morning, the third of January, 1853, we were in the field betimes. It was a raw, cold morning, such as is unusual in that region. I was in advance, Uncle Abram next to me, behind him Bob, Patsey and Wiley, with our cotton-bags about our necks. Epps happened (a rare thing, indeed) to come out that morning without his whip. He swore, in a manner that would shame a pirate, that we were doing nothing. Bob ventured to say that his fingers were so numb with cold he couldn’t pick fast. Epps cursed himself for not having brought his rawhide, and declared that when he came out again he would warm us well; yes, he would make us all hotter than the fiery realm in which I am sometimes compelled to believe he will himself eventually reside.

  With these fervent expressions, he left us. When out of hearing, we commenced talking to each other, saying how hard it was to be compelled to keep up our tasks with numb fingers; how unreasonable master was, and speaking of him generally in no flattering terms. Our conversation was interrupted by a carriage passing rapidly towards the house. Looking up, we saw two men approaching us through the cotton-field.

  * * * * *

  Having now brought down this narrative to the last hour I was to spend on Bayou Boeuf—having gotten through my last cotton picking, and about to bid Master Epps farewell—I must beg the reader to go back with me to the month of August; to follow Bass’ letter on its long journey to Saratoga; to learn the effect it produced—and that, while I was repining and despairing in the slave hut of Edwin Epps, through the friendship of Bass and goodness of Providence, all things were working together for my deliverance.

  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 BOEUF—ARRANGEMENTS ON THE WAY—REACH EPPS’ PLANTATION—DISCOVER HIS SLAVES IN THE COTTON FIELD—THE MEETING—THE FAREWELL.

  I am indebted to Mr. Henry B. Northup and others for many of the particulars contained in this chapter.

  The letter written by Bass, directed to Parker and Perry, and which was deposited in the post-office in Marksville on the 15th day of August, 1852, arrived at Saratoga in the early part of September. Some time previous to this, Anne had removed to Glens Falls, Warren county, where she had charge of the kitchen in Carpenter’s Hotel. She kept house, however, lodging with our children, and was only absent from them during such time as the discharge of her duties in the hotel required.

  Messrs. Parker and Perry, on receipt of the letter, forwarded it immediately to Anne. On reading it the children were all excitement, and without delay hastened to the neighboring village of Sandy Hill, to consult Henry B. Northup, and obtain his advice and assistance in the matter.

  Upon examination, that gentleman found among the statutes of the State an act providing for the recovery of free citizens from slavery. It was passed May 14, 1840, and is entitled “An act more effectually to protect the free citizens of this State from being kidnapped or reduced to slavery.” It provides that it shall be the duty of the Governor, upon the receipt of satisfactory information that any free citizen or inhabitant of this State, is wrongfully held in another State or Territory of the United States, upon the allegation or pretence that such person is a slave, or by color of any usage or rule of law is deemed or taken to be a slave, to take such measures to procure the restoration of such person to liberty, as he shall deem necessary. And to that end, he is authorized to appoint and employ an agent, and directed to furnish him with such credentials and instructions as will be likely to accomplish the object of his appointment. It requires the agent so appointed to proceed to collect the proper proof to establish the right of such person to his freedom; to perform such journeys, take such measures, institute such legal proceedings, &c., as may be necessary to return such person to this State, and charge all expenses incurred in carrying the act into effect, upon moneys not otherwise appropriated in the treasury.
(See Appendix A)

  It was necessary to establish two facts to the satisfaction of the Governor: First, that I was a free citizen of New-York; and secondly, that I was wrongfully held in bondage. As to the first point, there was no difficulty, all the older inhabitants in the vicinity being ready to testify to it. The second point rested entirely upon the letter to Parker and Perry, written in an unknown hand, and upon the letter penned on board the brig Orleans, which, unfortunately, had been mislaid or lost.

  A memorial was prepared, directed to his excellency, Governor Hunt, setting forth her marriage, my departure to Washington city; the receipt of the letters; that I was a free citizen, and such other facts as were deemed important, and was signed and verified by Anne.200 Accompanying this memorial were several affidavits of prominent citizens of Sandy Hill and Fort Edward, corroborating fully the statements it contained, and also a request of several well known gentlemen to the Governor, that Henry B. Northup be appointed agent under the legislative act.201

  On reading the memorial and affidavits, his excellency took a lively interest in the matter, and on the 23d day of November, 1852, under the seal of the State, “constituted, appointed, and employed Henry B. Northup, Esq., an agent, with full power to effect” my restoration, and to take such measures as would be most likely to accomplish it, and instructing him to proceed to Louisiana with all convenient dispatch. (See Appendix B)

  The pressing nature of Mr. Northup’s professional and political engagements delayed his departure until December.202 On the fourteenth day of that month he left Sandy Hill, and proceeded to Washington. The Hon. Pierre Soule, Senator in Congress from Louisiana, Hon. Mr. Conrad, Secretary of War, and Judge Nelson, of the Supreme Court of the United States, upon hearing a statement of the facts, and examining his commission, and certified copies of the memorial and affidavits, furnished him with open letters to gentlemen in Louisiana, strongly urging their assistance in accomplishing the object of his appointment.