so! I 've been thinking of it these two or three nights past; I have such
distressing pains, and such strange feelings.
St. C.
O, Marie, you are blue! I don't believe it 's heart complaint.
Mar.
I dare say you don't; I was prepared to expect that. You can be alarmed enough,
if Eva coughs, or has the least thing the matter with her; but you never think
of me.
St. C.
If it 's particularly agreeable to you to have heart disease, why, I 'll try and
maintain you have it. I did n't know it was.
Mar.
Well, I only hope you won't be sorry for this when it 's too late! But, believe
it or not, my distress about Eva, and the exertions I have made with that dear
child, have developed what I have long suspected.
St. C.
O, here comes cousin from her excursion. [Enter MISS OPHELIA and EVA.] Well,
coz, what success in the religious line? D id you find a preacher?
Oph.
Wait till I put my bonnet and shawl away. [Exit.]
St. C.
Here, Eva, you come to me.
Eva.
[Climbs into her father's lap.]
Oph. [Within.]
What 's this! You wicked little hussy, you! Come out here! Come out this very
minute!
St. C.
What new witchcraft has Tops been brewing?
Enter MISS OPHELIA, dragging TOPSY. Oph.
Come out here, now. I will tell your master!
St. C.
What 's the row, pray?
Oph.
The fact is, I cannot be plagued with this child any longer! It 's past all
bearing; flesh and blood cannot endure it! Here I locked her up, and gave her a
hymn to study; and what does she do, but spy out where I put my key, and has
gone to my bureau, and got a bonnet-trimming, and cut it all to pieces to make
dolls'jackets! I never saw anything like it, in my life!
Mar.
I told you, cousin, that you 'd find out that these creatures can't be brought
up without severity. If I had my way, now, I 'd send that child out, and have
her thoroughly whipped; I 'd have her whipped till she could n't stand!
St. C.
I don't doubt it. Tell me of the lovely rule of woman! I never saw above a dozen
women that would n't half kill a horse, or a servant, either, if they had their
own way with them, let alone a man!
Mar.
There is no use in this shilly-shally way of yours, St. Clare! Cousin is a woman
of sense, and she sees it now, as plainly as I do.
Oph.
I would n't have the child treated so, for the world; but I am sure, Augustine,
I don't know what to do. I 've taught and taught; I 've talked till I 'm tired;
I 've whipped her; I 've punished her in every way I can think of, and she 's
just what she was at first.
St. C.
Come here, Tops, you monkey! [Topsy comes.] What makes you behave so?
Top.
'Spects it 's my wicked heart; Miss Feely says so!
St. C.
Don't you see how much Miss Ophelia has done for you? She says she has done
everything she can think of.
Top.
Lor, yes, mas'r! ole missis used to say so, too. She whipped me a heap harder,
and used to pull my har, and knock my head agin the door; but it didn't do me no
good; I 'spects, if they 's to pull every spear o' har out o' my head, it would
n't do no good, neither--I 's so wicked! Laws! I 's nothin but a nigger, no
ways!
Oph.
Well, I shall have to give her up; I can't have that trouble any longer.
St. C.
Well, I 'd just like to ask one question.
Oph.
What is it?
St. C.
Why, if your Gospel is not strong enough to save one heathen child, that you can
have at home here all to yourself, what 's the use of sending one or two poor
missionaries off with it among thousands of just such? I suppose this child is
about a fair sample of what thousands of your heathen are.
Eva.
[Beckons to TOPSY, who follows her to the end of the veranda.]
St. C.
What 's Eva about now? I mean to see.
Eva.
What does make you so bad, Topsy? Why don't you try and be good? Don't you love
anybody, Topsy?
Top.
Dunno nothing 'bout love; I loves candy and sich, that 's all.
Eva.
But you love your father and mother?
Top.
Never had none, ye know. I telled ye that, Miss Eva.
Eva.
O, I know; but had n't you any brother or sister, or aunt, or ----
Top.
No, none on 'em; never had nothing nor nobody.
Eva.
But, Topsy, if you 'd only try to be good, you might----
Top.
Could n't never be nothin' but a nigger if I was ever so good. If I could be
skinned, and come white, I 'd try then.
Eva.
But people can love you, if you are black, Topsy. Miss Ophelia would love you if
you were good.
Top.
[Laughs.]
Eva.
Don't you think so?
Top.
No; she can't bar me, 'cause I 'm a nigger! she 'd 's soon have a toad touch
her. There can't nobody love niggers, and niggers can't do nothin'. I don't
care! [Whistles.]
Eva.
O, Topsy, poor child, I love you! I love you, because you have n't had any
father, or mother, or friends; because you 've been a poor, abused child! I love
you, and I want you to be good. I am very unwell, Topsy, and I think I shan't
live a great while, and it really grieves me, to have you be so naughty. I wish
you would try to be good, for my sake; it 's only a little while I shall be with
you.
Top.
[Weeps.]
Eva.
Poor Topsy! don't you know that Jesus loves all alike? He is just as willing to
love you, as me. He loves you just as I do, only more, because he is better. He
will help you to be good; and you can go to heaven at last, and be an angel
forever, just as much as if you were white. Only think of it, Topsy, you can be
one of those spirits bright Uncle Tom sings about!
Top.
O, dear Miss Eva! dear Miss Eva! I will try! I will try! I never did care
nothin' about it before.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE XI-- EVA lying in bed. MISS OPHELIA looks out of the door, and sees UNCLE
TOM lying.
Ophelia.
Uncle Tom, what alive! have you taken to sleeping everywhere, and anywhere, like
a dog? I thought you were one of the orderly sort, and liked to sleep in your
bed, in a decent way.
Uncle Tom.
I do, Miss Feely; but now---- [Pauses.]
Oph.
Well, what now?
Uncle T.
We must n't speak loud; Mas'r St. Clare won't hear on 't; but, Miss Feely, you
know there must be somebody watchin' for the Bridegroom.
Oph.
What do you mean, Tom?
Uncle T.
You know it says in Scripture, "At midnight there was a great cry made, Behold,
the Bridegroom cometh!" That 's what I 'm 'spectin' now, every nig
ht, Miss
Feely; and I could n't sleep out o' hearin', no ways.
Oph.
Why, Uncle Tom, what makes you think so?
Uncle T.
Miss Eva, she talks to me. The Lord, he sends his messenger in the soul. I must
be thar, Miss Feely; for when that ar blessed child goes into the kingdom, they
'll open the door so wide, we 'll all get a look in at the glory, Miss Feely.
Oph.
Uncle Tom, did Miss Eva say she felt more unwell than usual to-night?
Uncle T.
No; but she telled me this morning she was coming nearer; that 's them that
tells it to the child, Miss Feely. It 's the angels; "it 's the trumpet-sound
afore the break o' day."
Oph.
Well, Tom, perhaps you had better lie down here by the door, so as to be ready
if I should call you.
Uncle T.
Yes, ma'am.
Oph. [Closes the door and arranges the chamber. Takes the light and walks toward
the bed, and examines the countenance of EVA.]
Ah! indeed! [Sets down the lamp and feels of her pulse.] Is it possible? [Goes
to the door.] Tom!
Uncle T. [Without.]
What, missis?
Oph.
Go and bring the doctor here, directly; don't lose a minute! [Crosses the
chamber and raps.] Augustine! Augustine!
St. C. [Opening.]
What, cousin? Anything the matter?
Oph.
Just look at Eva! feel of her hands!
St. C. [Bending over EVA.]
O, my God!
Enter MARIE. Mar.
Augustine--Cousin--What? Why?
St. C.
Hush! she's dying!
SERVANTS flocking into the room. Omnes
O, Miss Eva! O, Miss Eva!
St. C.
Hush! Eva! Eva! O, if she would only speak once more! Eva! darling!
Oph.
There! her eyes are opening!
St. C.
Do you know me, Eva?
Eva.
Dear papa! [Throws her arms around his neck, then drops them and struggles, as
in a spasm.]
St. C.
O, God! O, God! this is dreadful! [Wrings TOM'S hand.] O, Tom, my boy, it's
killing me!
Uncle T.
Lord, have mercy!
St. C.
O, pray that it may be over!
Uncle T.
O, bless the Lord, it is over--there, look! look at her!
Oph.
O, what a look!
Servants. [All.]
O, those eyes! What does she see?
St. C.
Eva!
Oph.
She does n't hear you!
St. C.
O, Eva! Tell us. What is it?
Eva. [Gasping.]
O! [Looks at her father.] Love! [Raises her hands.] Joy! joy!
St. C.
She 's gone!
[Falls on the bed. Curtain drops.]
SCENE XII--A Parlor. ST. CLARE, MISS OPHELIA. TOM on a bench near the window,
reading.
Oph.
Augustine, have you ever made any provision for your servants, in case of your
death?
St. C.
No!
Oph.
Then all your indulgence to them may prove a great cruelty by and by.
St. C.
Well, I mean to make a provision by and by.
Oph.
When?
St. C.
One of these days!
Oph.
What if you should die first?
St. C.
Cousin, what 's the matter? Do you think I show symptoms of yellow fever or
cholera, that you are making post mortem arrangements with such zeal?
Oph.
"In the midst of life we are in death!"
St. C. [Laying aside the paper, and rising.]
DEATH! Strange that there should be such a word, and such a thing, and we ever
forget it; that one should be living, warm and beautiful, full of hopes,
desires, and wants, one day, and the next be gone, utterly gone, and forever!
[To TOM.] Want me to read to you, Tom?
Uncle T.
If mas'r pleases; mas'r makes it so much plainer.
St. C. [Reads.]
"When the Son of Man shall come in his glory, and all his holy angels with him,
then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory; and before him shall be gathered
all nations: and he sh all separate them one from another, as a shepherd
divideth his sheep from the goats." [ ST. CLARE reads on, in an animated voice,
till he comes to the last of the verses.] "Then shall the King say unto them on
his left hand, Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire: for I was an
hungered, and ye gave me no meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink: I was
a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked, and ye clothed me not: I was sick, and
in prison, and ye visited me not. Then shall they answer unto him, Lord, when
saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in
prison, and did not minister unto thee> Then shall he say unto them, Inasmuch as
ye did it not to one of the least of these my bethren, ye did it not to me."
[Pauses. To TOM.] Tom, these folks that get such hard measure seem to have been
doing just what I have--living good, easy respect able lives; and not troubling
themselves to inquire how many of their brethren were hungry, or athirst, or
sick, or in prison. [Goes to the piano and plays and sings.]
"Dies irae dies illa,
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
Teste David cum sybilla."
[Speaks.]
What a sublime conception is that of the last judgment! A righting of all the
wrongs of ages! A solving of all moral problems by an unanswerable wisdom! It
is, indeed, a wonderful image.
Oph.
It is a fearful one to us.
St. C.
It ought to be to me, I suppose. Now, that which I was reading to Tom strikes
singularly. One should have expected some terrible enormities charged to those
who are excluded from heaven, as the reason; but, no,--they are condemned for
not doing positive good, as if that included every possible harm.
Oph.
Perhaps it is impossible for a person who does no good not to do harm.
St. C.
And what, what shall be said of one whose own heart, whose education, and the
wants of society, have called in vain to some noble purpose; who has floated on,
a dreamy, neutral spectator of the struggles, agonies, and wrongs of man, when
he should be been a worker?
Oph.
I should say that he ought to repent, and begin now.
St. C.
Always practical and to the point! You never leave me any time for general
reflections, cousin; you always bring me short up against the actual present;
you have a kind of eternal now, always in your mind.
Oph.
Now is all the time I have anything to do with.
St. C.
Dear little Eva--poor child! she had set her little simple soul on a good work
for me. [A pause.] I don't know what makes me think of my mother so much
to-night. I have a strange kind of feeling, as if she were near me. I keep
thinking of things she used to say. Strange what brings these past things so
vividly back to us, sometimes! [Walks.]
I believe I 'll go down the street, a
few moments, and hear the news to-night. [Exit.]
SCENE XIII.--A Court-Yard. SERVANTS running distractedly to and fro; some
looking in at the windows where lights are seen moving.
Uncle Tom.
[Comes out.] He's gone!
Voices.
O, mas'r! O! O! O, Lord! Good Lord! Do hab pity! O Lord, hab mercy! O, Mas'r St.
Clare! O, mas'r, mas'r, mas'r! he 's dead! he 's dead! he 's dead!
ACT III.
SCENE I.-- CASSY is discovered sitting at a table covered with letters and
papers, looking at a miniature.
Cassy.
I 'm tired! I 'm sick! I 'm dead! Dead? yes, dead at heart! dead at the root,
and yet I live; so they say at least. O, to think of it! to think of it! Why
don't I die? [She rises and paces the room, and sings.]
"Una beldad existe que mis ajos
Sampre la ven con majica delicia;
De dia sabe disipar enojos,
De noche ensuenos dulces inspirar.
Hay une labio que el mio ha,
Y que untes otro labio no comprimida,
Turo hareemo felez oj emaneeido,
Mi labio lo comprime y otro no.
Hay une seno todo el es'propio mio,
Do mi cabesa enferma reclino,
Und bosa que nie si yo nio,
Ojos que lloron euando lloro no."
Ah! that was his song! O, dear, why can't I ever forget it! My children too! O,
Henry! O, Eliza! [She sits down, and covers her face. A carriage heard
approaching, she rises quickly.] What! back already! [Looks out the window.]
There! another fly in the spider web! Handsome? O, yes! and what? Yes; some
mother's darling. Hah! could n't I kill him?
Legree. [Opens the door, and pushes EMMELINE in.]
This way, little mistress!
Cas.
You wretch! another!
Leg.
Shut your mouth!
Cas.
I shall shut my mouth; but your time is coming. I see it! I see it! Go on, go
on! go as fast as you can! I see where it will end!
Leg.
Hush, Cassy! be quiet; I mean no harm. You may take this girl up stairs. Come,
be peaceable!
Cas. [To EMMELINE.]
You have come to the gates of Hell! Come with me. I 'll show you the way.
[Exit, drawing EMMELINE after her.] Leg. [Solus.]
The creature scares me lately! Her eyes look so dreadful! I 'll sell her, or get
rid of her some way. Hang it, there 's no joke in it!
SCENE II.--Evening. Negro Quarters. Negroes in ragged clothes. UNCLE TOM,
MULATTO WOMAN, and SAMBO. QUIMBO, UNCLE TOM, and SAMBO, walk along and look into
houses.
Uncle Tom.
Which of these is mine?
Sambo.
Dunno. Turn in here, I 'spose; 'spect ders room for another dar. Right smart
heap o' niggers to each on 'em. Sure I dunno what else to do with more. [To the
mulatto woman, throwing down a bag of corn.] Ho! yer. What a cuss is yer name?
Woman.
Lucy.
Samb.
Wall, Lucy, yer my woman now; grind dis yer corn, and get my supper ready; d'ye
har?
Lucy.
I an't your woman, and I won't be! you go 'long!
Samb.
I 'll kick yo, then!
Lucy.
Ye may kill me, if ye choose; the sooner the better! Wish't I was dead!
Quimbo.
I say, Sambo, you go to spilin' the hands I'll tell mas'r o' you.
Samb.
And I 'll tell him ye won't let the women come to the mills, yo old nigger! Yo
jes keep to yo own row.
Quim. [To UNCLE TOM, throwing down a bag.]
Thar, yo nigger, grab! thar 's yer corn; ye won't git no more dis yer week.
Uncle T. [To a woman at the mill.]
You 're tired; let me grind.
Woman.
Deed, I is dat!
[UNCLE TOM grinds.] Woman.
Wall, ye ground our meal, we 'll fix yer cake for ye; 'spects ye an't much used
to it.
[Goes in. UNCLE TOM sits down by the fire to read the Bible. Women return and
put the cakes at the fire.] 1st Woman. [To UNCLE TOM.]
What 's dat ar?
Uncle T.
The Bible.
1st Woman.
Good Lor! ha'n't seen none since I 's in ole Kintuck!
Uncle T.
Was ye rais'd in Kintuck?
1st Woman.
Yes, and well raised too. Never expected to come to dis yer.
2d Woman. [Coming up.]
What dat ar, anyway?
1st Woman.
Why, dat ar 's the Bible.
2d Woman.
Good Lor! what 's dat?
1st Woman.
Do tell! you never hearn of it? I used to har missis a readin' on't sometimes,
in Kintuck; but, laws o' me! we don't har nothin' here but crackin' and swarin'.
2d Woman.
Read a piece, anyways!
Uncle T. [Reads.]
"Come unto ME, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
2d Woman.
Them 's good words enough; who says 'em?
Uncle T.
The Lord.
2d Woman.
I jest wish I know'd whar to find Him; I would go. 'Pears like I never should
get rested again. My flesh is fairly sore, and I tremble all over, every day,
and Sambo's allers a jawin' a me, 'cause I does n't pick faster; and nights it
's most midnight 'fore I can get my supper; and then 'pears like I don't turn
over and shut my eyes 'fore I hear de horn blow to get up and at it again in the
mornin'. If I know'd whar de Lord was I 'd tell Him.
Uncle T.
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