(Illustration Credits 1.22)

BY THE SUMMER OF 1852, ELEVEN YEARS HAD PASSED since Solomon Northup had been stolen into slavery. While his family in New York still nursed hope that he would one day return to them, they knew that the chances of this happening were slim. Solomon and Anne’s three children—Elizabeth, Margaret, and Alonzo—had only dim memories of the father who had disappeared when they were very young. Now 20, 18, and 16 years old respectively, they had begun their own lives. Margaret had married and was a mother. Little Solomon Northup Staunton had been named for the grandfather who didn’t even know of his existence.

Solomon Northup was now 44 years old—an age not often attained by slaves in Louisiana because of all the hardships and diseases they were subject to. As events from his years as a free man faded deeper into the past, his former life sometimes seemed like a dream. Yet in his soul there remained a flicker of hope that one day he would regain his freedom.

In June of 1852 Edwin Epps hired a crew of carpenters to build a new house for his family. Epps knew that Platt had done carpentry work under Tibaut, so he pulled him from the field and ordered him to help a carpenter named Samuel Bass construct the house.

By listening to white people’s conversations, Solomon learned about Bass’s background. About 45 years old, Bass was just a little older than he was. Born in Canada, he had married a woman named Lydia, with whom he had four daughters. However, 15 years earlier he and his wife had separated, and he had rarely seen his daughters since then. Bass seemed to be a sad man who roamed about doing odd jobs without much purpose in life. His travels had eventually taken him more than a thousand miles south of Canada to Marksville, Louisiana, where he lived while helping to build Edwin Epps’s new house.

Among the planters along Bayou Boeuf, Samuel Bass was known for loving to argue. Whatever the subject, he had an opinion about it that usually opposed the popular view in Louisiana. Once or twice Solomon heard him talk passionately against slavery, which he claimed was “all wrong.” Outsiders who expressed such unorthodox views risked being run out of Louisiana, but Samuel Bass was forgiven because it was thought that he just liked to stir up a good argument. Besides, he always listened politely to the other person’s point of view.

After overhearing Bass talk about slavery with Epps and other neighbors, Solomon concluded that the carpenter wasn’t arguing just to hear his own voice. He seemed to truly hate slavery. This was confirmed one day when Epps came to watch Bass and Solomon work and the two white men got into a dispute.

“It’s all wrong,” Bass told Epps. “I wouldn’t own a slave if I was rich, which I am not. When you come down to the point, what right have you to your slaves?”

“What right?” Epps repeated with a laugh. “Why, I bought ’em, and paid for ’em.”

Bass countered by saying that just because the law allowed slavery, that didn’t make it right. There was a higher law—the law of right and wrong—that said slavery was evil. “In the sight of God, what is the difference, Epps, between a white man and a black one? You have no more right to your freedom, in exact justice, than Old Abram yonder.”

Epps chuckled and said, “Hope you don’t compare me to a nigger, Bass.”

“Look here, Epps, you can’t laugh me down that way,” Bass said with a touch of annoyance. “There’s a fearful sin resting on this nation that will not go unpunished forever. There will be a reckoning—yes, Epps, there’s a day coming that will burn as an oven. It may be sooner or it may be later, but it’s a-comin’ as sure as the Lord is just.”

William Lloyd Garrison, a famous abolitionist leader, is pictured here being dragged through the streets by a pro-slavery mob during the Boston Riots of 1835. Garrison was the publisher of the anti-slavery newspaper The Liberator and a founder of the American Anti-Slavery Society. (Illustration Credits 1.23)

Epps concluded his argument by saying that Bass sounded like one of those “abolitionist fanatics” from the northern states and Canada who wanted to end slavery completely. Bass didn’t deny it. Then Epps got in the last word by saying that Bass loved to hear himself talk more than any man he had ever known.

While working with Samuel Bass all through the summer of 1852, Solomon became increasingly convinced that Bass truly hated slavery and might help him escape. Several times Solomon nearly told Bass how he had been kidnapped. But usually other carpenters were also working on the house, and Solomon didn’t want them to overhear him talking about how he deserved his freedom. Besides, his experience with Armsby had made him extremely cautious. What if he told Bass his story, and Bass tried to get in good with Epps by repeating the story to him? Even if Bass sympathized with Solomon, would he risk his own freedom to help him?

By early August the other carpenters had completed their tasks and were gone. Epps was preoccupied with his slaves in the field and no longer had time to stop by and watch Bass and Solomon work. As he and Bass sawed and hammered at the new house with no one else around, Solomon decided to throw caution to the wind and trust that Samuel Bass was as firm about “justice” and “freedom” as he appeared to be.

One afternoon in late summer Solomon broke the rule that said a slave shouldn’t speak to a white person unless spoken to. “Master Bass, I want to ask you where you came from?” Solomon asked matter-of-factly.

Samuel Bass didn’t seem to mind Solomon having an informal conversation with him. He had been born in a country called Canada, Bass explained, adding that Solomon probably didn’t know where that was.

“Oh, I know where Canada is,” Solomon answered. He then named some of the places he had visited in Canada—Montreal, Kingston, Queenston, and elsewhere. “And I have been in New York state, too,” Solomon continued. “In Buffalo and Rochester and Albany—and I can tell you the names of the villages on the Erie Canal.”

Bass stared at Solomon with an expression of astonishment, for very few slaves except runaways ever visited Canada, where slavery had been outlawed nearly 20 years earlier. The same was true of New York State, where slavery had been banned for 25 years. If Solomon had really visited all the places he claimed to have seen in Canada and New York State, he probably had once been a free man.

“How came you here?” Samuel Bass finally asked Solomon in a whisper.

That was the opening Solomon Northup had awaited. “Master Bass,” he said, “if justice had been done, I never would have been here.”

Suddenly Samuel Bass became keenly interested in Solomon’s past life. Promising not to repeat anything they discussed to Epps or anyone else, Bass asked Solomon how he had come to be a slave in Louisiana. His story would require quite a while to tell, Solomon answered. He suggested that they meet in the unfinished house around midnight, when he would relate everything to Bass.

The Epps house that Solomon helped build has been reconstructed and relocated to the Alexandria campus of Louisiana State University. (Illustration Credits 1.24)

At the appointed hour Bass didn’t have far to go, for that summer he usually slept in the new house he and Solomon were building, visiting his residence 20 miles away in Marksville only now and then. At about midnight Solomon crept out of his cabin in the slave quarters. Entering the unfinished house, he found Samuel Bass waiting for him.

Deep into the night Solomon told his life story to Samuel Bass, who listened closely and asked many questions. After Solomon finished, Bass asked how he could help him gain his liberty. By writing and mailing letters to some of his friends in Saratoga Springs, Solomon answered. Bass said he would gladly do so. Before parting, the two men agreed to meet the next night in the tall weeds along Bayou Boeuf to begin their letter-writing campaign.

The next day Solomon obtained a piece of a candle and a few matches. Phebe, the Epps family’s cook, may have smuggled these items out of the old house to him. Late that night Solomon went to the meeting place with the candle and matches. Samuel Bass arrived around the same time as Solomon. With him he brought paper and pencil that he kept in his tool chest.

Sending a letter to just one person in New York State wouldn’t be sufficient, the two men figured. So many years had passed that people Solomon had known could have died or moved away. They decided to send letters to several people who might help free Solomon. Since Epps might punish Solomon severely if he caught him writing letters, they also decided that Bass should write the letters in the privacy of his Marksville residence. But first Solomon must provide names and addresses.

By the flickering candlelight Samuel Bass wrote the names and addresses of three men in Saratoga Springs as Solomon recited the information: store owners William Perry and Cephas Parker, and Judge Marvin, who had employed Solomon at the United States Hotel. All three could vouch that Solomon Northup was a free man.

Even after Bass wrote down the three men’s names and addresses, he and Solomon remained on the riverbank. Now certain that he could trust Samuel Bass, Solomon poured out his heart to him. He told Bass how much it would mean to him to see his wife and children again—even if it was just once before he died. He clasped Samuel Bass’s hand and blessed him for his help. He also told Bass what for 11 years he had not told anyone. His real name wasn’t Platt. It was Solomon Northup.

Bass was moved by Solomon’s words and by the depth of his emotion. He confessed to Solomon that he had lived a lonely life, separated from his family and without friends. He was getting older, he said, and he didn’t want to die without ever having done anything of value in the world. From this night forward he would dedicate his life to liberating Solomon and to ending the evil practice of slavery.

Before they parted, Bass warned that they must avoid talking to each other when other people were around—if Epps got wind of their plot it would be disastrous. Bass repeated that he would write and mail the letters at Marksville. Once he sent them out, he would find a way to speak privately to Solomon about it.

A few days later, on Saturday night, Samuel Bass rode to Marksville, where he lived in a rented room. He spent all day Sunday writing letters to Solomon’s acquaintances in Saratoga Springs—one to Judge Marvin and another letter that was addressed jointly to William Perry and Cephas Parker. This second letter read:

Bayou Bœuf

August 15, 1852

Mr. William Perry or Mr. Cephas Parker:

GENTLEMEN—Having been born free, I am certain you must know me, and I am here now a slave. I wish you to obtain free papers for me, and forward them to me at Marksville, Louisiana. The way I came to be a slave, I was taken sick in Washington. When I recovered, I was robbed of my free-papers, and in irons on my way to this State, and have never been able to write until now; and he that is writing for me runs the risk of his life if detected.

Yours,

SOLOMON NORTHUP

Upon Bass’s return from Marksville, he and Solomon resumed their work on the house, hardly speaking to one another during the course of the day. However, they soon had another midnight meeting alongside the river. The news was good, Bass told Solomon. He had written and mailed the letters without any problems. Now they could only await an answer.

Compared to today, mail delivery was slow in the 1850s. The letter might take two weeks to arrive in Saratoga Springs, New York, Bass figured, and another two weeks for a response to reach Marksville, Louisiana. In about a month—at the most six weeks—the process of freeing Solomon should be under way.

As the days passed, Solomon’s excitement grew. Could it be that after 11 years as a slave he would soon be free? He liked to think of Judge Marvin, William Perry, and Cephas Parker reading the letters and spreading the word that Solomon was alive on a plantation in Louisiana. He liked to think of the moment he would once again see Anne and his children. He became so excited that he couldn’t sleep or think of anything except saying goodbye to slavery.

At the end of four weeks, Samuel Bass rode to Marksville to check his mail. There was nothing for him from New York State. Seeing how disappointed Solomon was, Bass reminded him that they had figured it might take six weeks for a response to arrive.

Samuel Bass visited Marksville once more after six weeks had elapsed. Again, he had no letters from New York State. Solomon was crushed by this bad news, but Bass told him not to give up because the mail was frequently delayed for one reason or another.

Bass again rode to Marksville at the eight-week point. Again he returned with no letters in his pockets, which was also what happened after ten weeks. To make things worse, at about this time Bass and Solomon completed the Epps house. This meant that Bass had to move on to another job, and Solomon would be sent back to the cotton fields.

One last time before he departed, Samuel Bass met with Solomon by the riverside. He must not give in to despair, Bass told Solomon. Bass promised that on the day before Christmas he would pay a visit to the Epps family. At that time he would once more check his mail at the Marksville post office. If nothing had arrived from Saratoga Springs by then, he would find some other way to free Solomon.

Never had Solomon Northup looked forward to Christmas as eagerly as he did in the final weeks of 1852.