A Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin. Гарриет Бичер-Стоу

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СКАЧАТЬ day I’m Mr. Twickem, from New Orleans; ‘nother day, I’m just come from my plantation on Pearl river, where I works seven hundred niggers; then, again, I come out a distant relation to Henry Clay, or some old cock in Kentuck. Talents is different, you know. Now, Tom’s a roarer when there’s any thumping or fighting to be done; but at lying he an’t good, Tom an’t; ye see it don’t come natural to him; but, Lord! if thar’s a feller in the country that can swear to anything and everything, and put in all the circumstances and flourishes with a longer face, and carry’t through better’n I can, why, I’d like to see him, that’s all! I b’lieve, my heart, I could get along, and make through, even if justices were more particular than they is. Sometimes I rather wish they was more particular; ’twould be a heap more relishin’ if they was—more fun, yer know.”

      In the year 1839, the writer received into her family, as a servant, a girl from Kentucky. She had been the slave of one of the lowest and most brutal families, with whom she had been brought up, in a log-cabin, in a state of half-barbarism. In proceeding to give her religious instruction, the author heard, for the first time in her life, an inquiry which she had not supposed possible to be made in America:—“Who is Jesus Christ, now, anyhow?”

      When the author told her the history of the love and life and death of Christ, the girl seemed wholly overcome; tears streamed down her cheeks; and she exclaimed, piteously, “Why didn’t nobody never tell me this before?”

      “But,” said the writer to her, “haven’t you ever seen the Bible?”

      “Yes, I have seen missus a-readin’ on’t sometimes; but, law sakes! she’s just a-readin’ on’t ‘cause she could; don’t s’pose it did her no good, no way.”

      She said she had been to one or two camp-meetings in her life, but “didn’t notice very particular.”

      At all events, the story certainly made great impression on her, and had such an effect in improving her conduct, that the writer had great hopes of her.

      On inquiring into her history, it was discovered that, by the laws of Ohio, she was legally entitled to her freedom, from the fact of her having been brought into the state, and left there, temporarily, by the consent of her mistress. These facts being properly authenticated before the proper authorities, papers attesting her freedom were drawn up, and it was now supposed that all danger of pursuit was over. After she had remained in the family for some months, word was sent, from various sources, to Professor Stowe, that the girl’s young master was over, looking for her, and that, if care were not taken, she would be conveyed back into slavery.

      Professor Stowe called on the magistrate who had authenticated her papers, and inquired whether they were not sufficient to protect her. The reply was, “Certainly they are, in law, if she could have a fair hearing; but they will come to your house in the night, with an officer and a warrant; they will take her before Justice D——, and swear to her. He’s the man that does all this kind of business, and, he’ll deliver her up, and there’ll be an end to it.”

      Mr. Stowe then inquired what could be done; and was recommended to carry her to some place of security till the inquiry for her was over. Accordingly, that night, a brother of the author, with Professor Stowe, performed for the fugitive that office which the senator is represented as performing for Eliza. They drove about ten miles on a solitary road, crossed the creek at a very dangerous fording, and presented themselves, at midnight, at the house of John Van Zandt, a noble-minded Kentuckian, who had performed the good deed which the author, in her story, ascribes to Van Tromp.

      After some rapping at the door, the worthy owner of the mansion appeared, candle in hand, as has been narrated.

      “Are you the man that would save a poor colored girl from kidnappers?” was the first question.

      “Guess I am,” was the prompt response; “where is she?”

      “Why, she’s here.”

      “But how did you come?”

      “I crossed the creek.”

      “Why, the Lord helped you!” said he; “I shouldn’t dare cross it myself in the night. A man and his wife, and five children, were drowned there, a little while ago.”

      The reader may be interested to know that the poor girl never was retaken; that she married well in Cincinnati, is a very respectable woman, and the mother of a large family of children.

CHAPTER VI.

       UNCLE TOM.

       Table of Contents

      The character of Uncle Tom has been objected to as improbable; and yet the writer has received more confirmations of that character, and from a greater variety of sources, than of any other in the book.

      Many people have said to her, “I knew an Uncle Tom in such and such a Southern State.” All the histories of this kind which have thus been related to her would of themselves, if collected, make a small volume. The author will relate a few of them.

      While visiting in an obscure town in Maine, in the family of a friend, the conversation happened to turn upon this subject, and the gentleman with whose family she was staying related the following. He said that, when on a visit to his brother, in New Orleans, some years before, he found in his possession a most valuable negro man, of such remarkable probity and honesty that his brother literally trusted him with all he had. He had frequently seen him take out a handful of bills, without looking at them, and hand them to this servant, bidding him go and provide what was necessary for the family, and bring him the change. He remonstrated with his brother on this imprudence; but the latter replied that he had had such proof of this servant’s impregnable conscientiousness that he felt it safe to trust him to any extent.

      The history of the servant was this. He had belonged to a man in Baltimore, who, having a general prejudice against all the religious exercises of slaves, did all that he could to prevent his having any time for devotional duties, and strictly forbade him to read the Bible and pray, either by himself, or with the other servants; and because, like a certain man of old, named Daniel, he constantly disobeyed this unchristian edict, his master inflicted upon him that punishment which a master always has in his power to inflict—he sold him into perpetual exile from his wife and children, down to New Orleans.

      The gentleman who gave the writer this information says that, although not himself a religious man at the time, he was so struck with the man’s piety that he said to his brother, “I hope you will never do anything to deprive this man of his religious privileges, for I think a judgment will come upon you if you do.” To this his brother replied that he should be very foolish to do it, since he had made up his mind that the man’s religion was the root of his extraordinary excellences.

      Some time since, there was sent to the writer from the South, through the mail, a little book, entitled, “Sketches of Old Virginia Family Servants,” with a preface by Bishop Meade. The book contains an account of the following servants: African Bella, Old Milly, Blind Lucy, Aunt Betty, Springfield Bob, Mammy Chris, Diana Washington, Aunt Margaret, Rachel Parker, Nelly Jackson, My Own Mammy, Aunt Beck.

      The following extract from Bishop Meade’s preface may not be uninteresting.

      The following sketches were placed in my hands with a request that I would examine them with a view to publication.

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