Twelve Years a Slave

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Overview

Kidnapped into slavery in 1841, Northup spent 12 years in captivity. This autobiographical memoir represents an exceptionally detailed and accurate description of slave life and plantation society. 7 illustrations. Index.
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Twelve Years a Slave

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Overview

Kidnapped into slavery in 1841, Northup spent 12 years in captivity. This autobiographical memoir represents an exceptionally detailed and accurate description of slave life and plantation society. 7 illustrations. Index.
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Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

"Twelve Years a Slave should be must reading for every young Southerner. Only in accounts such as this can they understand the true nature of the curse which, more than a hundred years later, still hangs like a millstone around the neck of the South, hampering final emancipation for white and black alike." -- Frank G. Slaughter, Florida Historical Quarterly

"A moving, vital testament to one of slavery's 'many thousand gone' who retained his humanity in the bowels of degradation. It is also a chilling insight into the 'peculiar institution.' " -- Ernest Dunbar, Saturday Review

LSU Press

Saturday Review
"A moving, vital testament."
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781476767345
  • Publisher: Atria / 37 Ink
  • Publication date: 11/19/2013
  • Edition number: 37
  • Pages: 320
  • Sales rank: 89,256
  • Product dimensions: 5.60 (w) x 8.50 (h) x 1.10 (d)

Meet the Author

Sue Eakin (1918-2009) taught history at Louisiana State University in Alexandria.

Joseph Logsdon (1938-2000) was an assistant professor of history at Louisiana State University in New Orleans.

LSU Press

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Twelve Years a Slave


  • 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 day, 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 Boeuf.

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.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 4
( 244 )
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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 244 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted October 20, 2013

    rip of

    The sample is only the table of contents

    30 out of 97 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 7, 2014

    Always Read the Book First - Highly Recommended

    If you're familiar with slave narratives, read this and understand the brutal language of slavery accompanied with your own personal experience with freedom. I had always wondered how slavery had been deemed as a 'peculiar' institution, and the narrator uses this term as if to say, "I experienced it. It's brutal, I can't honestly understand how I lived through it."

    The language can be a bit a difficult at times, but I read it fairly quickly, and some of the descriptions brought me to tears. It was in utter helplessness the slave Northup experienced whippings and witnessed acts of cruelty. Moving, cruel and brutal most of the time.

    I know there's a movie out now. I don't know if I can see it. Reading it was tough. Using my imagination, I cried. Seeing it on the movie screen, I don't know if I have the stomach for it.

    Consider reading Frederick Douglas or even Harriet Tubman's slave narratives as well.

    8 out of 11 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 12, 2013

    highly recommend

    This book should be required reading in all schools in America. The history of black men in this country has been so white-washed that people have no concept of what cruelty slaves had to undergo and are still going through. Because America does not publicize their faults, most white people have a white-washed idea of slavery,(Uncle Remus) as well as how African-Americans are still being wronged. This story far surpasses "Roots," which is mild by comparison with this first-hand account of slavery. The book is just marvelous and should be made a part of our history lessons. Just like the holocaust, this should be remembered so we don't make the same mistake in the future.

    4 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 21, 2014

    Let us not forget

    this cruel and inhumane treatment in history, but this is boring. Reads like a textbook, only got halfway through it, old style prose is hard going and repetetive. How many times can a body survive 500 lashes?

    3 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 12, 2014

    Outstanding testimony

    Just completed reading this book. It stretches the bonds of my credulity that human beings could be so cruel and disinterested as to permit this aborhent practice of other humans. I truely believe that this book should be required reading for every student prior to graduation from high school.

    J M Lydon

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 11, 2013

    I am having a hard time finishing it

    I find this book very hard to read. There are some paragraphs where it is just one sentence and it goes on and on forever and you get lost.

    3 out of 7 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 10, 2013

    An important book!

    This true story of what happened to a free black man with a wife and 3 children living peacefully in New York State should be read by everyone so that more people understand exactly what the Civil War was fought over.

    A well-known local violinist, he was sold into slavery by men who pretended to hire him for a job in Washington DC. He endured twelve years of harsh treatment and despair before he was finally rescued and brought back to his family again.

    This first-hand account of what slavery was really like, written by the man who actually experienced it, should be required reading in every high school.

    3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 21, 2013

    To audrey..jacob..erik..terra..etc

    U r all s bunch of idiots

    3 out of 32 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 12, 2014

    12 Years a Slave

    This was an excellent book to read; especially if one wants to learn the real facts about life during the 1880s for African Americans and how dangerous times were in those days for them, I recommend this book for consideration of reading in history classes as well as for general reading, There are valuable lessons in living and treating each other in this book,

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted March 20, 2014

    Disturbing

    My review is going to be short. Most people are remarking about the 500 lashes not being realistic. Those who know their history are aware many slaves were cut to bits, disfigured and killed by being lashed to death. One account I read said when the owner's arm became tired, he had his overseer take over the beatings or even had the slaves finish the job. One account had a woman boiled alive for visiting the grave of her child, then her bones and broth were poured over the grave and the dogs set free to eat it. Slaves were considered to be lower than animals. It was not unusual for women for women to have their breasts lashed off. Some whips had nine or more lashes attached to the handle and barbs attached to these so they would rend flesh better.

    AD

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 18, 2014

    Open your eyes-

    Kindness and hate, we need more kindness in this world!

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 13, 2014

    Excellent Book - a must read.

    Very informative. This book taught me a lot about the period that I never learned in school. Everyone should read this book.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 10, 2014

    borrringgg!

    I sure hope the movie is a lot better than the book in this instance! It was so hard to get through this book. Some parts kept my interest but for the most part, I was bored to death with it.

    1 out of 9 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 10, 2014

    Highly recommended - should check it out.

    Interesting, historical and very well written.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted January 3, 2014

    Really good read

    But a tough read - hard to remember that part of this Nation's history written so vividly. Very visual book - and the writing was simple. It was almost like you were there with them.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 23, 2013

    Recommended, especially for middle/high school students

    Very interesting - just one more example of the horrors of salvery, the cruelity that greed produces, and how hatred must be learned. Written from the first-hand account of Solomon Northup, it simply tells it like it is - Solomon doesn't have hatred in his heart - he recognizes the goodness in people (even some slave owners) - he proivdes a good acocunt of the day-to-day life of a plantation slave. Beyond the obvious, Solomon also gives a good account of the work required to process cotton without the use of modern equipment. So few of us realize the massive effort in growing cotton and producing textiles at that period in history. Putting the issues of salvery aside, the book is also informative about life in the pre-civil war period of America. Much to be learned from this book. His writing is easy to follow.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 10, 2013

    MUST read

    Riveting! And so heartbreaking that a man can be kidnapped to slavery just because of the color of his skin. Mr. Northup showed magnificent fortitude to survive such a horrendous experience. Excellent read.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 10, 2013

    Interesting

    Probably pretty realistic, but 500 lashes? Not sure anyone could survive that, nor not sure any owner would want to damage their property that badly. But the book does give a nice insight into the everyday life of a slave.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 7, 2013

    Mindblowing!

    I believe this story to be true. On that aspect there no crueler, no viler creature, no more ignorant creature that walks the face of this earth as the human being.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 28, 2013

    Excellent

    Loved It!

    1 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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