“Anything ye pleases!”
“Where do you live?” said Nina, drawing out her purse.
“My folks’s staying on Mr. Gordon’s place.”
“Why don’t you get a place of your own to stay on?” said Nina.
There was an impatient glance flashed from the man’s eye, but it gave place immediately to his habitual cowed expression, as he said, —
“Can’t get work — can’t get money — can’t get nothing.”
“Dear me,” said her Uncle John, who had been standing for a moment listening to the conversation. “This must be husband of that poor hobgoblin that has lighted down on my place lately. Well, you may as well pay him a good price for his fish. Keep them from starving one day longer, maybe.” And Nina paid the man a liberal sum and dismissed him.
“I suppose, now, all my eloquence wouldn’t make Rose cook those fish for dinner,” said Nina.
“Why not, if you told her to?” said Aunt Maria, who had also descended to the veranda.
“Why not? — Just because, as she would say, she hadn’t laid out to do it.”
“That’s not the way my servants are taught to do!” said Aunt Maria.
“I’ll warrant not,” said Nina. “But yours and mine are quite different affairs, aunt. They all do as they have a mind to, in my diggings. All I stipulated for is a little of the same privilege.”
“That man’s wife and children have come and squatted down on my place,” said Mr. Gordon, laughing; “and so, Nin, all you paid for his fish is just so much saving to me.”
“Yes, to be sure! Mr. Gordon is just one of those men that will have a tribe of shiftless hangers-on at his heels!” said Mrs. Gordon.
“Well, bless my soul! what’s a fellow to do? Can’t see the poor heathen starve, can we? If society could only be organized over, now, there would be hope for them. The brain ought to control the hands; but among us the hands try to set up for themselves; — and see what comes of it!”
“Who do you mean by brain?” said Nina.
“Who? — Why, we upper crust, to be sure! We educated people! We ought to have an absolute sway over the working classes, just as the brain rules the hand. It must come to that, at last — no other arrangement is possible. The white working classes can’t take care of themselves, and must be put into a condition for us to take care of them. What is liberty to them? — Only a name — liberty to be hungry and naked, that’s all. It’s the strangest thing in the world, how people stick to names! I suppose that fellow, up there, would flare up terribly at being put in with my niggers; and yet he and his children are glad of the crumbs that fall from their table! It’s astonishing to me how, with such examples before them, any decent man can be so stone-blind as to run atilt against slavery. Just compare the free working classes with our slaves! Dear me! the blindness of people in this world! It’s too much for my patience, particularly in hot weather!” said Mr. John, wiping his face with a white pocket-handkerchief.
“Well, but, Uncle John,” said Nina, “my dear old gentleman, you haven’t traveled, as I have.”
“No, child! I thank the Lord I never stepped my foot out of a slave state, and I never mean to,” said Uncle John.
“But you ought to see the northern working people,” said Nina. “Why, the governors of the states are farmers, sometimes, and work with their own men. The brain and the hand go together, in each one — not one great brain to fifty pair of hands. And, I tell you, work is done up there very differently from what’s done here! Just look at our ploughs and our hoes! — the most ridiculous things that I ever saw. I should think one of them would weigh ten pounds!”
“Well, if you don’t have ’em heavy enough to go into the ground by their own weight, these cussed lazy nigs won’t do anything with them. They’d break a dozen Yankee hoes in a forenoon,” said Uncle John.
“Now,” said Nina, “Uncle John, you dear old heathen, you! do let me tell you a little how it is there. I went up into New Hampshire, once, with Livy Ray, to spend a vacation. Livy’s father is a farmer; works part of every day with his own men; hoes, digs, plants; but he is governor of the state. He has a splendid farm — all in first-rate order; and his sons, with two or three hired men, keep it in better condition than our places ever saw. Mr. Ray is a man who reads a great deal; has a fine library, and he’s as much of a gentleman as you’ll often see. There are no high and low classes there. Everybody works; and everybody seems to have a good time. Livy’s mother has a beautiful dairy, spring-house, and two strong women to help her; and everything in the house looks beautifully; and, for the greater part of the day, the house seems so neat and still, you wouldn’t know anything had been done in it. Seems to me this is better than making slaves of all the working classes, or having any working classes at all.”
“How wise young ladies always are!” said Uncle John. “Undoubtedly the millennium is begun in New Hampshire! But, pray, my dear, what part do young ladies take in all this? Seems to me, Nin, you haven’t picked up much of this improvement in person.”
“Oh, as to that, I labor in my vocation,” said Nina; “that is, of enlightening dull, sleepy old gentlemen, who never traveled out of the state they were born in, and don’t know what can be done. I come as a missionary to them; I’m sure that’s work enough for one.”
“Well,” said Aunt Maria, “I know I am as great a slave as any of the poor whites, or negroes either. There isn’t a soul in my whole troop that pretends to take any care, except me, either about themselves or their children, or anything else.”
“I hope that isn’t a slant at me!” said Uncle John, shrugging his shoulders.
“I must say you are as bad as any of them,” said Aunt Maria.
“There it goes! — now, I’m getting it!” said Uncle John. “I declare, the next time we get a preacher out here, I’m going to make him hold forth on the duties of wives!”
“And husbands, too!” said Aunt Maria.
“Do,” said Nina; “I should like a little prospective information.”
Nina, as often, spoke before she thought. Uncle John gave a malicious look at Clayton. Nina could not recall the words. She colored deeply, and went on hastily to change the subject.
“At any rate, I know that aunt, here, has a much harder time than housekeepers do in the free states. Just the shoes she wears out chasing up her negroes would hire help enough to do all her work. They used to have an idea up there, that all the southern ladies did was to lie on the sofa. I used to tell them it was as much as they knew about it.”
“Your cares don’t seem to have worn you much!” said Uncle John.
“Well, they will, Uncle John, if you don’t behave better. It’s enough to break anybody down to keep you in order.”
“I wish,” said Uncle John, shrugging up his shoulders, and looking quizzically at Clayton, “somebody would take warning!”
“For my part,” said Aunt Maria, “I know one thing: I’d be glad to get rid of my negroes. Sometimes I think life is such a burden that I don’t think it’s worth having.”
“Oh no, you don’t, mother!” said Uncle John; “not with such a charming husband as you’ve got, who relieves you from all care so perfectly!”
“I declare,” said Nina, looking along the avenue, “what’s that? Why, if there isn’t Old Tiff, coming along with his children!”
“Who is he?” said Aunt Maria.
“Oh, he belongs to one of these miserable families,” said Aunt Nesbit, “that have squatted in the pine woods somewhere about here — a poor, worthless set! but Nina has a great idea of patronizing them.”
“Clear Gordon, every inch of her!” said Aunt Maria, as Nina ran down to meet Tiff. “Just like her uncle!”
“Come, now, old lady, I’ll tell of you, if you don’t take care!” said Mr. Gordon. “Didn’t I find you putting up a basket of provisions for those folks you scolded me so for taking in?”
“Scold, Mr. Gordon? I never scold!”
“I beg pardon —
that you reproved me for!”
Ladies generally are not displeased for being reproached for their charities; and Aunt Maria, whose bark, to use a vulgar proverb, was infinitely worse than her bite, sat fanning herself, with an air of self-complacency. Meanwhile, Nina had run down the avenue, and was busy in a confidential communication with Tiff. On her return, she came skipping up the steps, apparently in high glee.
“Oh, Uncle John! there’s the greatest fun getting up! You must all go, certainly! What do you think? Tiff says there’s to be a camp-meeting in the neighborhood, only about five miles off from his place. Let’s make up a party, and all go!”
“That’s the time of day!” said Uncle John. “I enroll myself under your banner at once. I am open to improvement! Anybody wants to convert me, here I am!”
“The trouble with you, Uncle John,” said Nina, “is that you don’t stay converted. You are just like one of these heavy fishes — you bite very sharp; but before anybody can get you fairly on to the bank, you are flapping and floundering back into the water, and down you go into your sins again. I know at least three ministers who thought they had hooked you out; but they were mistaken.”
“For my part,” said Aunt Maria, “I think these camp-meetings do more harm than good. They collect all the scum and the riff-raff of the community, and I believe there’s more drinking done at camp-meetings in one week than is done in six anywhere else. Then, of course, all the hands will want to be off; and Mr. Gordon has brought them up so that they feel dreadfully abused if they are not in with everything that’s going on. I shall set down my foot, this year, that they sha’n’t go any day except Sunday.”
“My wife knows that she was always celebrated for having the handsomest foot in the country, and so she is always setting it down at me!” said Mr. Gordon; “for she knows that a pretty foot is irresistible with me.”
“Mr. Gordon, how can you talk so? I should think that you’d got old enough not to make such silly speeches!” said Aunt Maria.
“Silly speeches! It’s a solemn fact, and you won’t hear anything truer at the camp-meeting!” said Uncle John. “But come, Clayton, will you go? My dear fellow, your grave face will he an appropriate ornament to the scene, I can assure you; and as to Miss Anne, it won’t do for an old fellow like me, in this presence, to say what a happiness it would he.”
“I suspect,” said Anne, “Edward is afraid he may be called on for some of the services. People are always taking him for a clergyman, and asking him to say grace at meals, and to conduct family prayers, when he is traveling among strangers.”
“It’s a comment on our religion, that these should be thought peculiar offices of clergymen,” said Clayton. “Every Christian man ought to be ready and willing to take them.”
“I honor that sentiment!” said Uncle John. “A man ought not to be ashamed of his religion anywhere, no more than a soldier of his colors. I believe there’s more religion hid in the hearts of honest laymen, now, than is plastered up behind the white cravats of clergymen; and they ought to come out with it. Not that I have any disrespect for the clergy, either,” said Uncle John. “Fine men — a little stiffish, and don’t call things by good English names. Always talking about dispensation, and sanctification, and edification, and so forth; but I like them. They are sincere. I suppose they wouldn’t any of them give me a chance for heaven, because I rip out with an oath, every now and then. But the fact is, what with niggers and overseers and white trash, my chances of salvation are dreadfully limited. I can’t help swearing, now and then, if I was to die for it. They say it’s dreadfully wicked; but I feel more Christian when I let out than when I keep in!”
“Mr. Gordon,” said Aunt Maria reprovingly, “do consider what you ‘re saying!”
“My dear, I am considering. I am considering all the time! I never do anything else but consider — except, as I said before, every now and then, when what-’s-his-name gets the advantage over me. And, hark you, Mrs. G., let’s have things ready at our house, if any of the clergy would like to spend a week or so with us; and we could get them up some meetings, or any little thing in their line. I always like to show respect for them.”
“Our beds are always prepared for company, Mr. Gordon,” said Aunt Maria, with a stately air.
“Oh yes, yes, I don’t doubt that! I only meant some special preparation — some little fatted-calf killing, and so on.”
“Now,” said Nina, “shall we set off to-morrow morning?”
“Agreed!” said Uncle John.
CHAPTER XXI
TIFF’S PREPARATIONS
THE announcement of the expected camp-meeting produced a vast sensation at Canema in other circles beside the hall. In the servants’ department, everybody was full of the matter, from Aunt Katy down to Tomtit. The women were thinking over their available finery; for these gatherings furnish the negroes with the same opportunity of display that Grace Church does to the Broadway belles. And so, before Old Tiff, who had brought the first intelligence to the plantation, had time to depart, Tomtit had trumpeted the news through all the cluster of negro houses that skirted the right side of the mansion, proclaiming that “dere was gwine to be a camp-meeting, and tip-top work of grace, and Miss Nina was going to let all de niggers go.” Old Tiff, therefore, found himself in a prominent position in a group of negro women, among whom Rose, the cook, was conspicuous.
“Law, Tiff, ye gwine? and gwine to take your chil’en? Ha! ha! ha!” said she. “Why, Miss Fanny, dey’ll tink Tiff’s yer mammy! Ho! ho! ho!”
“Yah! yah! Ho! ho! ho!” roared in a chorus of laughter on all sides, doing honor to Aunt Rose’s wit; and Tomtit, who hung upon the skirts of the crowd, threw up the fragment of a hat in the air, and kicked it in an abandon of joy, regardless of the neglected dinner-knives. Old Tiff, mindful of dignities, never failed to propitiate Rose, on his advents to the plantation, with the gift which the “wise man saith maketh friends;” and on the present occasion he had enriched her own peculiar stock of domestic fowl by the present of a pair of young partridge-chicks, a nest of which he had just captured, intending to bring them up by hand, as he did his children. By this discreet course Tiff stood high where it was of most vital consequence that he should so stand; and many a choice morsel did Rose cook for him in secret, besides imparting to him most invaluable recipes on the culture and raising of sucking babies. Old Hundred, like many other persons, felt that general attention lavished on any other celebrity was so much taken from his own merits, and, therefore, on the present occasion, sat regarding Tiff’s evident popularity with a cynical eye. At last, coming up, like a wicked fellow as he was, he launched his javelin at Old Tiff, by observing to his wife, —
“I’s ‘stonished at you, Rose! You, cook to de Gordons, and making youself so cheap — so familiar with de poor white folks’ niggers!”
Had the slant fallen upon himself, personally, Old Tiff would probably have given a jolly crow, and laughed as heartily as he generally did if he happened to be caught out in a rainstorm; but the reflection on his family connection fired him up like a torch, and his eyes flashed through his big spectacles like firelight through windows.
“You go ‘long, talking ‘bout what you don’ know nothing ‘bout! I like to know what you knows ‘bout de old Virginny fam’lies? Dem’s de real old stock! You Car’lina folks come from dem, stick and stock, every blest one of you! De Gordons is a nice family, — ain’t nothing to say agin de Gordons, — but whar was you raised, dat ye didn’t hear ‘bout de Peytons? Why, old Gen’al Peyton, didn’t he use to ride with six black horses afore him, as if he’d been a king? Dere wa’n’t one of dem horses dat hadn’t a tail as long as my arm. You never see no such critters in your life!”
“I hain’t, hain’t I?” said Old Hundred, now, in his turn, touched in a vital point. “Bless me, if I hain’t seen de Gordons riding out with der eight horses, any time o’ day!”
“Come, come, now, dere wasn’t so many!” said Rose, who had her own reasons for sta
ying on Tiff’s side. “Nobody never rode with eight horses!”
“Did too! You say much more, I’ll make sixteen on ‘em!’Fore my blessed Master, how dese yer old niggers will lie! Dey’s always zaggerating der families. Makes de very har rise on my head, to hear dese yer old niggers talk, dey lie so!” said Old Hundred.
“You tink folks dat take to lying is using up your business, don’t ye?” said Tiff. “But, I tell you, any one dat says a word agin de Peytons got me to set in with!”
“Laws, dem chil’en ain’t Peytons!” said Old Hundred; “dey’s Crippses; and I like to know who ever hearn of de Crippses? Go ‘way! don’t tell me nothing about dem Crippses! Dey’s poor white folks! A body may see dat sticking out all over ‘em!”
“You shut up!” said Tiff. “I don’t b’lieve you was born on de Gordon place, ‘cause you ain’t got no manners. I spects you some old, second-hand nigger, Colonel Gordon must a took for debt, some time, from some of dese yer mean Tennessee families, dat don’ know how to keep der money when dey gets it. Der niggers is allers de meanest kind.’Cause all de real Gordon niggers is ladies and gen’lemen — every one of ‘em!” said Old Tiff, like a true orator, bent on carrying his audience along with him.
A general shout chorused this compliment; and Tiff, under cover of the applause, shook up his reins, and rode off in triumph.
“Dar, now, you aggravating old nigger,” said Rose, turning to her bosom lord, “I hope yer got it now! De plaguest old nigger dat ever I see! And you, Tom, go ‘long and clean your knives, if yer don’t mean to be cracked over!”
Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe Page 88
