Nature and Human Nature Part 52

"'Well, it do, Missus; dat are a fac;' and I helped myself agin dis way."

"Sorrow," said I, "this is too bad; go forward now and cut this foolery short. You will be too drunk to cook the dinner if you go on that way."

"Ma.s.sa," said he, "dis child nebber was drunk in his life; but he is frose most to deaf wid de wretched fogs (dat give people here 'blue noses'), an de field ice, and raw winds: I is as cold as if I slept wid a dead n.i.g.g.ar or a Yankee. Yah, yah, yah.

"'Well, Missus,' sais I, 'dem clams do mind me ob chickens. Now, Missus, will you skuse me if I git you the receipt Miss Phillis and I ab cyphered out, how to presarve chickens?'

"'Yes,' she said, 'I will. Let me hear it. Dat is sumthen new.'

"'Well, Missus, you know how you and I is robbed by our n.i.g.g.ars like so many minks. Now, Missus, sposin' you and I pa.s.s a law dat all fat poultry is to be brought to me to buy, and den we keep our fat poultry locked up; and if dey steal de lean fowls, and we buy 'em, we saves de fattenin' of 'em, and gibs no more arter all dan de vally of food and tendin', which is all dey gits now, for dere fowls is always de best fed in course; and when we ab more nor we wants for you and me, den I take 'em to market and sell 'em; and if dey will steal 'em arter dat, Missus, we must try ticklin'; dere is nuffin' like it. It makes de down fly like a feather-bed. It makes n.i.g.g.ars wery sarcy to see white tief punished tree times as much as dey is; dat are a fac, Missus. A poor white man can't work, and in course he steal. Well, his time bein' no airthly use, dey gib him six month pensiontary; and n.i.g.g.ar, who can airn a dollar or may be 100 cents a day, only one month. I spise a poor white man as I do a skunk. Dey is a cuss to de country; and it's berry hard for you and me to pay rates to support 'em: our rates last year was bominable. Let us pa.s.s dis law, Missus, and fowl stealin' is done--de ting is dead.'

"'Well, you may try it for six months,' she say, 'only no whippin'. We must find some oder punishment,' she said.

"'I ab it,' sais I, 'Missus! Oh Lord a ma.s.sy, Missus! oh dear missus!

I got an inwention as bright as bran new pewter b.u.t.ton. I'll shave de head of a tief close and smooth. Dat will keep his head warm in de sun, and cool at night; do him good. He can't go courtin' den, when he ab 'no wool whar de wool ought to grow,' and spile his 'frolicken, and all de n.i.g.g.aroons make game ob him. It do more good praps to tickle fancy ob n.i.g.g.ars dan to tickle dere hide. I make him go to church reglar den to show hisself and his bald pate. Yah, yah, yah!'"

"Come, Sorrow," I said, "I am tired of all this foolery; either tell me how you propose to cook the clams, or subst.i.tute something else in their place."

"Well, Ma.s.sa," he said, "I will; but railly now when I gits talkin'

bout my dear ole missus, pears to me as if my tongue would run for ebber. Dis is de last voyage I ebber make in a fis.h.i.+n' craft. I is used to de first society, and always moved round wid ladies and gentlemen what had 'finement in 'em. Well, Ma.s.sa, now I comes to de clams. First of all, you must dig de clams. Now dere is great art in diggin' clams.

"Where you see little hole like worm hole dere is de clam. He breathe up tru dat, and suck in his drink like sherry-cobbler through a straw.

Whar dere is no little air holes, dere is no clam, dat are a fac. Now, Ma.s.sa, can you tell who is de most knowin' clam-digger in de worl? De gull is, Ma.s.sa; and he eat his clam raw, as some folks who don't know nuffin' bout cookin' eat oysters. He take up de clam ebber so far in de air, and let him fall right on de rock, which break sh.e.l.l for him, and down he goes and pounces on him like a duck on a June bug.

Sometimes clam catch him by de toe though, and hold on like grim death to a dead n.i.g.g.ar, and away goes bird screamin' and yellin', and clam sticking to him like burr to a hosses tail. Oh, geehillikin, what fun it is. And all de oder gulls larf at him like any ting; dat comes o'

seezin' him by de mout instead ob de scruff ob de neck.

"Well, when you git clam nuff, den you must wash 'em, and dat is more trouble dan dey is worth; for dey is werry gritty naturally, like buckwheat dat is trashed in de field--takes two or tree waters, and salt is better dan fresh, cause you see fresh water make him sick.

Well, now, Ma.s.sa, de question is, what will you ab; clam soup, clam sweetbread, clam pie, clam fritter, or bake clam?"

"Which do you tink best, Sorrow?" sais I.

"Well, Ma.s.sa, dey is all good in dere way; missus used to fection baked clams mighty well, but we can't do dem so tip-top at sea; clam sweetbread, she said, was better den what is made ob oyster; and as to clam soup, dat pends on de cook. Now, Ma.s.sa, when missus and me went to wisit de president's plantation, I see his cook, Mr Sall.u.s.t, didn't know nuffin' bout parin' de soup. What you tink he did, Ma.s.sa? stead ob poundin' de clams in a mortar fust, he jist cut 'em in quarters and puts 'em in dat way. I nebber see such ignorance since I was raised.

He made de soup ob water, and actilly put some salt in it; when it was sarved up--it was rediculous disgraceful--he left dem pieces in de tureen, and dey was like leather. Missus said to me:

"'Sorrow,' sais she, 'I shall starve here; dem military men know nuffin' but bout hosses, dogs, and wine; but dey ain't delicate no way in dere tastes, and yet to hear 'em talk you'd be most afeered to offer 'em anyting, you'd tink dey was de debbel and all.'"

"Did she use those words, Sorrow?"

"Well, not zactly," he said, scratching his head, "dey was d.i.c.ksionary words and werry fine, for she had great 'finement bout her; but dat was de meanin' ob 'em.

"'Now, Sorrow,' she said, 'tell me de trut, wasn't dat soup now made of water?'

"'Yes, Missus, it was,' said I, 'I seed it wid my own eyes.'

"'I taut so,' she said, 'why dat cook ain't fit to tend a bear trap, and bait it wid sheep's innerds.'"

"Did she use those words?"

"Why laws a ma.s.sy, Ma.s.sa! I can't swear to de identical words; how can I? but as I was a sayin', dere was 'finement in 'em, werry long, werry crooked, and werry pretty, but dat was all de sense ob 'em.

"'Now, Sorrow,' said she, 'he ought to ab used milk; all fish soups ought to be made o' milk, and den tickened wid flour.'

"'Why in course, Missus,' sais I, 'dat is de way you and me always likes it.'

"'It has made me quite ill,' said she.

"'So it ab nearly killed me, Missus,' sais I, puttin' my hand on my stomach, 'I ab such a pain down here, I tink sometimes I shall die.'

"'Well, you look ill, Uncle Sorrow,' she said, and she went to her dressin'-case, and took a little small bottle (covered ober wid printed words), 'Take some o' dis,' said she, and she poured me out bout dis much (filling his gla.s.s again), 'take dat, it will do you good.'

"'Is it berry bad to swaller,' sais I, 'Missus? I is most afeard it will spile the 'finement of my taste.'

"'Try it,' sais she, and I shut to my eyes, and made awful long face, and swallowed it jist dis way.

"'By golly,' sais I, 'Missus, but dat is grand. What is dat?'

"'Clove, water,' said she.

"'Oh, Missus,' sais I, 'dat is plaguy trong water, dat are a fac, and bery nice flavoured. I wish in my heart we had a nice spring ob it to home. Wouldn't it be grand, for dis is a bery thirsty n.i.g.g.ar, dat are a fac. Clam pie, Ma.s.sa, is first chop, my missus ambitioned it some punkins.'

"Well, how do you make it?"

"Dere is seberal ways, Ma.s.sa. Sometime we used one way and sometime anoder. I do believe missus could do it fifty ways."

"Fifty ways!" said I, "now Sorrow, how can you lie that way? I shall begin to think at last you never had a mistress at all."

"Fifty ways! Well, Ma.s.sa, goodness gracious me! You isn't goin' to tie me down to swear to figures now, any more nor identical words, is you?

I ab no manner o' doubt she could fifty ways, but she only used eight or ten ways which she said was de best. First dere is de clam bake."

"Well, I know that," sais I, "go on to the clam pie."

"What is it?" said the doctor, "for I should like to know how they are prepared."

"This," said I, "is the most approved mode. A cavity is dug in the earth, about eighteen inches deep, which is lined with round stones.

On this a fire is made; and when the stones are sufficiently heated, a bushel or more of clams (according to the number of persons who are to partake of the feast) is thrown upon them. On this is put a layer of rock-weed, gathered from the beach, and over this a second layer of sea-weed. This prevents the escape of the steam, and preserves the sweetness of the fish. Clams baked in this manner are preferred to those cooked in the usual way in the kitchen. On one occasion, that of a grand political ma.s.s-meeting in favour of General Harrison on the 4th of July, 1840, nearly 10,000 persons a.s.sembled in Rhode Island, for whom a clambake and chowder was prepared. This was probably the greatest feast of the kind that ever took place in New England."

"Zactly," said Sorrow, "den dere is anoder way."

"I won't hear it," said I, "stiver now, make the pie any way you like."

"Ma.s.sa," said he, "eber since poor missus died from eaten hogs wid dere heads on, I feel kinder faint when I sees clams, I hab neber swallowed one since, and neber will. De parfume gits into my stomach, as it did when de General's cook used water instead of milk, in his soup. I don't spose you ab any clove-water, but if you will let me take jist a tumblerfull ob dis, I tink it would make me survive a little," and without waiting for leave he helped himself to a b.u.mper.

"Now, Ma.s.sa," he said, "I show you what cookin' is, I know," and making a sc.r.a.pe of his leg, he left the cabin.

"Doctor," said I, "I am glad you have seen this specimen of a southern negro. He is a fair sample of a servant in the houses of our great planters. Cheerful, grateful, and contented, they are better off and happier than any portion of the same race I have met with in any part of the world. They have a quick perception of humour, a sort of instinctive knowledge of character, and great cunning, but their reasoning powers are very limited. Their appet.i.tes are gross, and their const.i.tutional indolence such that they prefer enduring any suffering and privation to regular habits of industry.

"Slavery in the abstract is a thing that n.o.body approves of, or attempts to justify. We all consider it an evil--but unhappily it was entailed upon us by our forefathers, and has now grown to be one of such magnitude that it is difficult to know now to deal with it--and this difficulty is much increased by the irritation which has grown out of the unskilful and unjustifiable conduct of abolitionists. The grossest exaggerations have been circulated as to the conduct and treatment of our slaves, by persons who either did not know what they were talking about, or who have wilfully perverted facts. The devil we have painted black, and the negro received the same colour from the hand of his Maker. It only remained to represent the planter as of a deeper dye than either. This picture however wanted effect, and latterly lights and shades have been judiciously introduced, by mingling with these groups eastern abolitionists, white overseers, and English n.o.blemen, and ladies of rank. It made a clever caricature--had a great run--has been superseded by other follies and extravagancies, and is now nearly forgotten. The social evil still remains, and ever will, while ignorant zeal, blind bigotry, hypocrisy, and politics, demand to have the exclusive treatment of it. The planter has rights as well as the slave, and the claims of both must be well weighed and considered before any dispa.s.sionate judgment can be formed.

"In the mean time invective and misrepresentation, by irritating the public, disqualify it for the deliberate exercise of its functions. If the slaves have to mourn over the want of freedom, the planters may lament the want of truth in their opponents; and it must be admitted that they have submitted to the atrocious calumnies that have been so liberally heaped upon them of late years, with a contempt that is the best refutation of falsehood, or a meekness and forbearance that contrast very favourably with the violence and fury of their adversaries."