The Christian Slave - A Drama Part 5

Oph. Here are some in the grater.

Dinah. Laws, yes! I put 'em there this morning. I likes to keep my things handy. You, Bob! what are you stopping for? You 'll cotch it! Be still thar!

[Striking at him with a stick.] Oph. What 's this?

[Holding up a saucer.] Dinah. Laws, it 's my har grease; I put it thar to have it handy.

Oph. Do you use your mistress' best saucers for that?

Dinah. Law! it was cause I was driv, and in sich a hurry; I was gwine to change it this very day.

Oph. Here are two damask table-napkins.

Dinah. Them table-napkins I put thar to get 'em washed out, some day.

Oph. Don't you have some place here on purpose for things to be washed?

Dinah. Well, Mas'r St. Clare got dat ar chest, he said, for dat; but I likes to mix up biscuit and hev my things on it some days, and then it an't handy a liftin' up the lid.

Oph. Why don't you mix your biscuits on the pastry-table, there?

Dinah. Law, missis, it get sot so full of dishes, and one thing and another, der an't no room, noways---- Oph. But you should wash your dishes, and clear them away.

Dinah. [Enraged.] Wash my dishes! What does ladies know 'bout work, I want to know? When 'd mas'r ever get his dinner if I was to spend all my time a was.h.i.+n' and a puttin' up dishes? Miss Marie never telled me so, nohow.

Oph. Well, here are these onions.

Dinah. Laws, yes! thar is whar I put 'em, now. I could n't 'member. Them 's particular onions I was a savin' for dis yer very stew. I 'd forgot they was in dar ar old flannel. [MISS OPHELIA lifts a paper of herbs.] I wish missis would n't touch dem ar. I likes to keep my things whar I knows what to go to 'em.

Oph. But you don't want these holes in the papers.

Dinah. Them 's handy for siftin' on't out.

Oph. But you see it spills all over the drawer.

Dinah. Laws, yes! if missis will go a tumblin' things all up so, it will. Missis has spilt lots dat ar way. If missis only will go up stars till my clarin'-up time comes, I 'll have everything right; but I can't do nothin' when ladies is round, a henderin'. You, Sam, don't you gib the baby dat ar sugar-bowl! I'll crack ye over, if ye don't mind!

Oph. I 'm going through the kitchen, and going to put everything in order once, Dinah; and then I 'll expect you to keep it so.

Dinah. Lor, now! Miss 'Phelia, dat ar an't no way for ladies to do. I never did see ladies doin' no sich; my old missis nor Miss Marie never did, and I don't see no kinder need on't.

[] Enter ST. CLARE. Oph. There is no such thing as getting anything like system in this family!

St. Clare. To be sure there is n't.

Oph. Such s.h.i.+ftless management, such waste, such confusion, I never saw!

St. C. I dare say you did n't.

Oph. You would not take it so coolly if you were a housekeeper.

St. C. My dear cousin, you may as well understand, once for all, that we masters are divided into two cla.s.ses, oppressors and oppressed. We who are good-natured and hate severity make up our minds to a good deal of inconvenience. If we will keep a shambling, loose, untaught set in the community, for our convenience, why, we must take the consequence. Some rare cases I have seen, of persons, who, by a peculiar tact, can produce order and system without severity; but I 'm not one of them, and so I made up my mind, long ago, to let things go just as they do. I will not have the poor devils thrashed and cut to pieces, and they know it; and, of course, they know the staff is in their own hands.

Oph. But to have no time, no place, no order--all going on in this s.h.i.+ftless way!

St. C. My dear Vermont, you natives up by the North Pole set an extravagant value on time! What on earth is the use of time to a fellow who has twice as much of it as he knows what to do with? As to order and system, where there is nothing to be done but to lounge on the sofa and read, an hour sooner or later in breakfast or dinner is n't of much account. Now, there's Dinah gets you a capital dinner--soup, ragout, roast fowl, dessert, ice-creams and all--and she creates it all out of Chaos and old Night out here in this kitchen. I think it really sublime, the way she manages. But, Heaven bless us! if we were to come out here, and view all the smoking and squatting about, and hurryscurryation of the preparatory process, we should never eat more. My good cousin, absolve yourself from that! It 's more than a Catholic penance, and does no more good. You 'll only lose your own temper, and utterly confound Dinah. Let her go her own way.

Oph. But, Augustine, you don't know how I found things.

St. C. Don't I? Don't I know that the rolling-pin is under her bed, and the nutmeg-grater in her pocket with her tobacco--that there are sixty-five different sugar-bowls, one in every hole in the house--that she wa shes dishes with a dinner-napkin one day, and with the fragment of an old petticoat the next? But the upshot is, she gets up glorious dinners, makes superb coffee; and you must judge her, as warriors and statesmen are judged, by her success.

Oph. But the waste--the expense!

St. C. O, well! lock everything you can, and keep the key. Give out by driblets, and never inquire for odds and ends--it is n't best.

Oph. That troubles me, Augustine. I can't help feeling as if these servants were not strictly honest. Are you sure they can be relied on?

St. C. [Laughing.] O, cousin, that 's too good! Honest!-- as if that 's a thing to be expected! Honest!--why, of course they arn't. Why should they be? What upon earth is to make them so?

Oph. Why don't you instruct?

St. C. Instruct! O, fiddlestick! What instructing do you think I should do? I look like it! As to Marie, she has spirit enough, to be sure, to kill off a whole plantation, if I'd let her manage; but she would n't get the cheatery out of them.

Oph. Are there no honest ones?

St. C. Well, now and then one, whom nature makes so impracticably simple, truthful and faithful, that the worst possible influence can't destroy it. But, you see, from the mother's breast the colored child feels and sees that there are none but underhand ways open to it. It can get along no other way with its parents, its mistress, its young master and missie play-fellows. Cunning and deception become necessary, inevitable habits. It is n't fair to expect anything else of him. He ought not to be punished for it. As to honesty, the slave is kept in that dependent, semi-childish state, that there is no making him realize the rights of property, or feel that his master's goods are not his own, if he can get them. For my part, I don't see how they can be honest. Such a fellow as Tom here is, is a moral miracle!

Oph. And what becomes of their souls?

St. C. That is n't my affair, as I know of. I am only dealing in facts of the present life. The fact is, that the whole race are pretty generally understood to be turned over to the devil, for our benefit, in this world, however it may turn out in another!

Oph. This is perfectly horrible! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!

St. C. I don't know as I am. We are in pretty good company, for all that, as people in the broad road generally are.

SCENE VI.--New Orleans. A Parlor in ST. CLARE'S House.

Enter ST. CLARE and TOPSY. St. Clare. Come down here, cousin; I 've something to show you.

Enter MISS OPHELIA, sewing in hand. Ophelia. What is it?

St. Clare. I 've made a purchase for your department--see here.

Oph. Augustine, what in the world did you bring that thing here for?

St. C. For you to educate, to be sure, and train in the way she should go. I thought she was rather a funny specimen in the Jim Crow line. Here, Topsy, this is your new mistress. I 'm going to give you up to here; see, how, that you behave yourself.

Topsy. Yes, mas'r.

St. C. You 're going to be good, Topsy, you understand.

Top. O, yes, mas'r!

Oph. Now, Augustine, what upon earth is this for? Your house is so full of these little plagues, now, that a body can't set their feet down without treading on 'em. I get up in the morning, and find one asleep behind the door, and see one black head poking out from under the table, one lying on the door-mat; and they are mopping, and mowing, and grinning between all the railings, and tu mbling over the kitchen floor! What on earth did you want to bring this one for?

St. C. For you to educate--did n't I tell you? You 're always preaching about educating. I thought I would make you a present of a fresh-caught specimen, and let you try your hand on her, and bring her up in the way she should go.

Oph. I don't want her, I am sure; I have more to do with 'em now than I want to.

St. C. That 's you Christians, all over! You 'll get up a society, and get some poor missionary to spend all his days among just such heathen. But let me see one of you that would take one into your house with you, and take the labor of their conversion on yourselves! No; when it comes to that, they are dirty and disagreeable, and it 's too much care, and so on.

Oph. Augustine, you know I did n't think of it in that light. Well, it might be a real missionary work. But I really did n't see the need of buying this one--there are enough now, in your house, to take all my time a nd skill.

St. C. Well, then, Cousin, I ought to beg your pardon for my good-for-nothing speeches. You are so good, after all, that there 's no sense in them. Why, the fact is, this concern belonged to a couple of drunken creatures that keep a low restaurant that I have to pa.s.s by every day, and I was tired of hearing her screaming, and them beating and swearing at her. She looked bright and funny, too, as if something might be made of her; so I bought her, and I 'll give her to you. Try, now, and give her a good orthodox New England bringing up, and see what it 'll make of her. You know I have n't any gift that way; but I 'd like you to try.

Oph. Well, I 'll do what I can. Come here, Topsy. How old are you?

Topsy. Dun no, missis.

Oph. Don't know how old you are? Did n't anybody ever tell you? Who was your mother?

Top. Never had none!

Oph. Never had any mother? What do you mean? Where was you born?

Top. Never was born!

Oph. You must n't answer me in that way, child; I 'm not playing with you. Tell me where you were born, and who your father and mother were.

Top. Never was born; never had no father nor mother, nor nothin'! I was raised by a speculator, with lots of others. Old Aunt Sue used to take car of us.

EnterJANE, DINAH, and ROSA. Jane. Laws, missis, there 's heaps of 'em! Speculators buys 'em up cheap, when they 's little, and gets 'em raised for market.

Oph. How long have you lived with your master and mistress?

Top. Dun no, missis.

Oph. Is it a year, or more, or less?

Top. Dun no, missis.

Jane. Laws, missis, those low negroes, they can't tell; they don't know anything about time; they don't know what a year is; they don't know their own ages.

Oph. Have you ever heard anything about G.o.d, Topsy?

Top. [Grins.]

Oph. Do you know who made you?

Top. n.o.body, as I knows on. I 'spect I grow'd. Don't think n.o.body never made me.

Oph. Do you know how to sew?

Top. No, missis.

Oph. What can you do? What did you do for your master and mistress?

Top. Fetch water, and wash the dishes, and rub knives, and wait on folks.

Oph. Were they good to you?

Top. 'Spect they was.

Dinah. [Lifting up both hands.] Good Lor, what a limb! What on 'arth Mas'r St. Care want to bring on dese yer low n.i.g.g.e.r young 'uns here for? Wont have her round under my feet, I know.

Oph. Well, go to your work, all of you. [Exeunt JANE, DINAH, and ROSA.] Come, Topsy, to my room.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VII.--A Bed-room. MISS OPHELIA and TOPSY.

Ophelia. Now, Topsy, I 'm going to show you just how my bed is to be made. I am very particular about my bed. You must learn exactly how to do it.

Topsy. Yes, ma'am.

Oph. Now, Topsy, look here; this is the hem of the sheet--this is the right side of the sheet, and this is the wrong; will you remember?

Top. Yes, ma'am.