Uncle Tom's Cabin
a dozen times. Warn’t it I started off de hosses, dis yer mornin’ and
kept ’em chasin’ till nigh dinner time? And didn’t I car Mas’r Haley
night five miles out of de road, dis evening, or else he’d a come up
with Lizy as easy as a dog arter a coon. These yer ’s all providences.”
“They are a kind of providences that you’ll have to be pretty sparing
of, Master Sam. I allow no such practices with gentlemen on my place,”
said Mr. Shelby, with as much sternness as he could command, under the
circumstances.
Now, there is no more use in making believe be angry with a negro than
with a child; both instinctively see the true state of the case,
through all attempts to affect the contrary; and Sam was in no wise
disheartened by this rebuke, though he assumed an air of doleful
gravity, and stood with the corners of his mouth lowered in most
penitential style.
“Mas’r quite right,—quite; it was ugly on me,—there’s no disputin’ that
ar; and of course Mas’r and Missis wouldn’t encourage no such works.
I’m sensible of dat ar; but a poor nigger like me ’s ’mazin’ tempted to
act ugly sometimes, when fellers will cut up such shines as dat ar
Mas’r Haley; he an’t no gen’l’man no way; anybody’s been raised as I’ve
been can’t help a seein’ dat ar.”
“Well, Sam,” said Mrs. Shelby, “as you appear to have a proper sense of
your errors, you may go now and tell Aunt Chloe she may get you some of
that cold ham that was left of dinner today. You and Andy must be
hungry.”
“Missis is a heap too good for us,” said Sam, making his bow with
alacrity, and departing.
It will be perceived, as has been before intimated, that Master Sam had
a native talent that might, undoubtedly, have raised him to eminence in
political life,—a talent of making capital out of everything that
turned up, to be invested for his own especial praise and glory; and
having done up his piety and humility, as he trusted, to the
satisfaction of the parlor, he clapped his palm-leaf on his head, with
a sort of rakish, free-and-easy air, and proceeded to the dominions of
Aunt Chloe, with the intention of flourishing largely in the kitchen.
“I’ll speechify these yer niggers,” said Sam to himself, “now I’ve got
a chance. Lord, I’ll reel it off to make ’em stare!”
It must be observed that one of Sam’s especial delights had been to
ride in attendance on his master to all kinds of political gatherings,
where, roosted on some rail fence, or perched aloft in some tree, he
would sit watching the orators, with the greatest apparent gusto, and
then, descending among the various brethren of his own color, assembled
on the same errand, he would edify and delight them with the most
ludicrous burlesques and imitations, all delivered with the most
imperturbable earnestness and solemnity; and though the auditors
immediately about him were generally of his own color, it not
infrequently happened that they were fringed pretty deeply with those
of a fairer complexion, who listened, laughing and winking, to Sam’s
great self-congratulation. In fact, Sam considered oratory as his
vocation, and never let slip an opportunity of magnifying his office.
Now, between Sam and Aunt Chloe there had existed, from ancient times,
a sort of chronic feud, or rather a decided coolness; but, as Sam was
meditating something in the provision department, as the necessary and
obvious foundation of his operations, he determined, on the present
occasion, to be eminently conciliatory; for he well knew that although
“Missis’ orders” would undoubtedly be followed to the letter, yet he
should gain a considerable deal by enlisting the spirit also. He
therefore appeared before Aunt Chloe with a touchingly subdued,
resigned expression, like one who has suffered immeasurable hardships
in behalf of a persecuted fellow-creature,—enlarged upon the fact that
Missis had directed him to come to Aunt Chloe for whatever might be
wanting to make up the balance in his solids and fluids,—and thus
unequivocally acknowledged her right and supremacy in the cooking
department, and all thereto pertaining.
The thing took accordingly. No poor, simple, virtuous body was ever
cajoled by the attentions of an electioneering politician with more
ease than Aunt Chloe was won over by Master Sam’s suavities; and if he
had been the prodigal son himself, he could not have been overwhelmed
with more maternal bountifulness; and he soon found himself seated,
happy and glorious, over a large tin pan, containing a sort of _olla
podrida_ of all that had appeared on the table for two or three days
past. Savory morsels of ham, golden blocks of corn-cake, fragments of
pie of every conceivable mathematical figure, chicken wings, gizzards,
and drumsticks, all appeared in picturesque confusion; and Sam, as
monarch of all he surveyed, sat with his palm-leaf cocked rejoicingly
to one side, and patronizing Andy at his right hand.
The kitchen was full of all his compeers, who had hurried and crowded
in, from the various cabins, to hear the termination of the day’s
exploits. Now was Sam’s hour of glory. The story of the day was
rehearsed, with all kinds of ornament and varnishing which might be
necessary to heighten its effect; for Sam, like some of our fashionable
dilettanti, never allowed a story to lose any of its gilding by passing
through his hands. Roars of laughter attended the narration, and were
taken up and prolonged by all the smaller fry, who were lying, in any
quantity, about on the floor, or perched in every corner. In the height
of the uproar and laughter, Sam, however, preserved an immovable
gravity, only from time to time rolling his eyes up, and giving his
auditors divers inexpressibly droll glances, without departing from the
sententious elevation of his oratory.
“Yer see, fellow-countrymen,” said Sam, elevating a turkey’s leg, with
energy, “yer see, now what dis yer chile ’s up ter, for fendin’ yer
all,—yes, all on yer. For him as tries to get one o’ our people is as
good as tryin’ to get all; yer see the principle ’s de same,—dat ar’s
clar. And any one o’ these yer drivers that comes smelling round arter
any our people, why, he’s got _me_ in his way; _I’m_ the feller he’s
got to set in with,—I’m the feller for yer all to come to,
bredren,—I’ll stand up for yer rights,—I’ll fend ’em to the last
breath!”
“Why, but Sam, yer telled me, only this mornin’, that you’d help this
yer Mas’r to cotch Lizy; seems to me yer talk don’t hang together,”
said Andy.
“I tell you now, Andy,” said Sam, with awful superiority, “don’t yer be
a talkin’ ’bout what yer don’t know nothin’ on; boys like you, Andy,
means well, but they can’t be spected to collusitate the great
principles of action.”
Andy looked rebuked, particularly by the hard word collusitate, which
most of the youngerly members of the company seemed to consider as a
settler in the case, while Sam proceeded.
“Dat ar was _conscience_, Andy; when I thought of gwine arter Lizy, I
railly spected Mas’r was sot dat way. When I found Missis was sot the
contrar, dat ar was conscience _more yet_,—cause fellers allers gets
more by stickin’ to Missis’ side,—so yer see I ’s persistent either
way, and sticks up to conscience, and holds on to principles. Yes,
_principles_,” said Sam, giving an enthusiastic toss to a chicken’s
neck,—“what’s principles good for, if we isn’t persistent, I wanter
know? Thar, Andy, you may have dat ar bone,—tan’t picked quite clean.”
Sam’s audience hanging on his words with open mouth, he could not but
proceed.
“Dis yer matter ’bout persistence, feller-niggers,” said Sam, with the
air of one entering into an abstruse subject, “dis yer ’sistency ’s a
thing what an’t seed into very clar, by most anybody. Now, yer see,
when a feller stands up for a thing one day and night, de contrar de
next, folks ses (and nat’rally enough dey ses), why he an’t
persistent,—hand me dat ar bit o’ corn-cake, Andy. But let’s look inter
it. I hope the gen’lmen and der fair sex will scuse my usin’ an or’nary
sort o’ ’parison. Here! I’m a trying to get top o’ der hay. Wal, I puts
up my larder dis yer side; ’tan’t no go;—den, cause I don’t try dere no
more, but puts my larder right de contrar side, an’t I persistent? I’m
persistent in wantin’ to get up which ary side my larder is; don’t you
see, all on yer?”
“It’s the only thing ye ever was persistent in, Lord knows!” muttered
Aunt Chloe, who was getting rather restive; the merriment of the
evening being to her somewhat after the Scripture comparison,—like
“vinegar upon nitre.”
“Yes, indeed!” said Sam, rising, full of supper and glory, for a
closing effort. “Yes, my feller-citizens and ladies of de other sex in
general, I has principles,—I’m proud to ’oon ’em,—they ’s perquisite to
dese yer times, and ter _all_ times. I has principles, and I sticks to
’em like forty,—jest anything that I thinks is principle, I goes in to
’t;—I wouldn’t mind if dey burnt me ’live,—I’d walk right up to de
stake, I would, and say, here I comes to shed my last blood fur my
principles, fur my country, fur de gen’l interests of society.”
“Well,” said Aunt Chloe, “one o’ yer principles will have to be to get
to bed some time tonight, and not be a keepin’ everybody up till
mornin’; now, every one of you young uns that don’t want to be cracked,
had better be scase, mighty sudden.”
“Niggers! all on yer,” said Sam, waving his palm-leaf with benignity,
“I give yer my blessin’; go to bed now, and be good boys.”
And, with this pathetic benediction, the assembly dispersed.
CHAPTER IX
In Which It Appears That a Senator Is But a Man
The light of the cheerful fire shone on the rug and carpet of a cosey
parlor, and glittered on the sides of the tea-cups and well-brightened
tea-pot, as Senator Bird was drawing off his boots, preparatory to
inserting his feet in a pair of new handsome slippers, which his wife
had been working for him while away on his senatorial tour. Mrs. Bird,
looking the very picture of delight, was superintending the
arrangements of the table, ever and anon mingling admonitory remarks to
a number of frolicsome juveniles, who were effervescing in all those
modes of untold gambol and mischief that have astonished mothers ever
since the flood.
“Tom, let the door-knob alone,—there’s a man! Mary! Mary! don’t pull
the cat’s tail,—poor pussy! Jim, you mustn’t climb on that table,—no,
no!—You don’t know, my dear, what a surprise it is to us all, to see
you here tonight!” said she, at last, when she found a space to say
something to her husband.
“Yes, yes, I thought I’d just make a run down, spend the night, and
have a little comfort at home. I’m tired to death, and my head aches!”
Mrs. Bird cast a glance at a camphor-bottle, which stood in the
half-open closet, and appeared to meditate an approach to it, but her
husband interposed.
“No, no, Mary, no doctoring! a cup of your good hot tea, and some of
our good home living, is what I want. It’s a tiresome business, this
legislating!”
And the senator smiled, as if he rather liked the idea of considering
himself a sacrifice to his country.
“Well,” said his wife, after the business of the tea-table was getting
rather slack, “and what have they been doing in the Senate?”
Now, it was a very unusual thing for gentle little Mrs. Bird ever to
trouble her head with what was going on in the house of the state, very
wisely considering that she had enough to do to mind her own. Mr. Bird,
therefore, opened his eyes in surprise, and said,
“Not very much of importance.”
“Well; but is it true that they have been passing a law forbidding
people to give meat and drink to those poor colored folks that come
along? I heard they were talking of some such law, but I didn’t think
any Christian legislature would pass it!”