Complete Works of Harriet Beecher Stowe

by Harriet Beecher Stowe

  “Oh, Lettice must allow me to show my accomplishments,” said Nina. “There are some household arts that I have quite a talent for. If I had lived in what’s-its-name there, that they used to tell about in old times — Arcadia — I should have made a good housekeeper; for nothing suits me better than making wreaths, and arranging bouquets. My nature is dressy. I want to dress everything. I want to dress tables and dress vases, and adorn dishes, and dress handsome women, Anne! So look out for yourself, for when I have done crowning the table, I shall crown you!”

  As Nina talked, she was flitting hither and thither, taking up and laying down flowers and leaves, shaking out long sprays, and fluttering from place to place, like a bird.

  “It’s a pity,” said Anne, “that life can’t be all Arcadia!”

  “Oh yes!” said Nina. “When I was a child, I remember there was an old torn translation of a book called Gesner’s Idyls, that used to lie about the house; and I used to read in it most charming little stories about handsome shepherds, dressed in white, playing on silver and ivory flutes; and shepherdesses, with azure mantles and floating hair; and people living on such delightful things as cool curds and milk and grapes and strawberries and peaches; and there was no labor, and no trouble, and no dirt, and no care. Everybody lived like the flowers and the birds, — growing and singing and being beautiful. Ah, dear, I have never got over wanting it since! Why couldn’t it be so?”

  “It’s a thousand pities!” said Anne. “But what constant fight we have to maintain for order and beauty!”

  “Yes,” said Nina; “and, what seems worse, beauty itself becomes dirt in a day. Now, these roses that we are arranging, to-morrow or next day we shall call them litter, and wish somebody would sweep them out of the way. But I never want to be the one to do that. I want some one to carry away the withered flowers and wash the soiled vases; but I want to be the one to cut the fresh roses every day. If I were in an association, I should take that for my part. I’d arrange all their flowers through the establishment, but I should stipulate expressly that I should do no clearing up.”

  “Well,” said Anne, “it’s really a mystery to me what a constant downward tendency there is to everything — how everything is gravitating back as you may say into disorder. Now, I think a cleanly, sweet, tasteful house, and, above all, table, are among the highest works of art. And yet, how everything attacks you when you set out to attain it — flies, cockroaches, ants, mosquitoes! And then, it seems to be the fate of all human beings, that they are constantly wearing out and disarranging and destroying all that is about them.”

  “Yes,” said Nina, “I couldn’t help thinking of that when we were at the camp-meeting. The first day I was perfectly charmed. Everything was so fresh, so cool, so dewy and sweet; but by the end of the second day they had thrown egg-shells and pea-pods and melon-rinds and all sorts of abominations around among the tents, and it was really shocking to contemplate.”

  “How disgusting!” said Anne.

  “Now, I’m one of that sort,” said Nina, “that love order dearly, but don’t want the trouble of it myself. My prime minister, Aunt Katy, thanks to mamma, is an excellent hand to keep it, and I encourage her in it with all my heart; so that any part of the house where I don’t go much is in beautiful order. But, bless me, I should have to be made over again before I could do like Aunt Nesbit! Did you ever see her take a pair of gloves or a collar out of a drawer? She gets up, and walks so moderately across the room, takes the key from under the napkin on the right-hand side of the bureau, and unlocks the drawer as gravely as though she was going to offer a sacrifice. Then, if her gloves are at the back side, underneath something else, she takes out one thing after another so moderately; and then, when the gloves or collar are found, lays everything back exactly where it was before, locks the drawer, and puts the key back under the towel. And all this she’d do if anybody was dying, and she had to go for the doctor! The consequence is, that her room, her drawers, and everything are a standing sermon to me. But I think I’ve got to be a much calmer person than I am before this will come to pass in my case. I’m always in such a breeze and flutter! I fly to my drawer and scatter things into little whirlwinds; ribbons, scarf, flowers — everything flies out in a perfect rainbow. It seems as if I should die if I didn’t get the thing I wanted that minute; and after two or three such attacks on a drawer, then comes repentance, and a long time of rolling up and arranging, and talking to little naughty Nina, who always promises herself to keep better order in future. But, my dear, she doesn’t do it, I’m sorry to say, as yet, though perhaps there are hopes of her in future. Tell me, Anne, — you are not stiff and poky, and yet you seem to be endowed with the gift of order. How did it come about?”

  “It was not natural to me, I assure you,” said Anne. “It was a second nature, drilled into me by mamma.”

  “Mamma! ah, indeed!” said Nina, giving a sigh. “Then you are very happy! But, come now, Lettice, I’ve done with all these; take them away. My tea-table has risen out of them like the world out of chaos,” she said, as she swept together a heap of rejected vines, leaves, and flowers. “Ah! I always have a repenting turn, when I’ve done arranging vases, to think I’ve picked so many more than were necessary! The poor flowers droop their leaves and look at me reproachfully, as if they said, ‘You didn’t want us — why couldn’t you have left us alone?’”

  “Oh,” said Anne, “Lettice will relieve you of that. She has great talents in the floral line, and out of these she will arrange quantities of bouquets,” she said, as Lettice, blushing perceptibly through her brown skin, stooped and swept up the rejected flowers into her apron.

  “What have we here?” said Anne, as Dulcimer, attired with most unusual care, came bowing up the steps, presenting a note on a waiter. “Dear me, how stylish! gilt-edged paper smelling of myrrh and ambergris!” she continued, as she broke the seal. “What’s this?

  “‘The Magnolia Grove troubadours request the presence of Mr and Miss Clayton and Miss Gordon at an operatic performance, which will be given this evening at eight o’clock, in the grove.’

  “Very well done! I fancy some of my scholars have been busy with the writing. Dulcimer, we shall be happy to come.”

  “Where upon earth did he pickup those phrases?” said Nina, when he had departed.

  “Oh,” said Anne, “I told you that he was prime favorite of the former proprietor, who used to take him with him wherever he traveled, as people sometimes will a pet monkey; and, I dare say, he has lounged round the lobbies of many an opera house. I told you that he was going to get up something.”

  “What a delightful creature he must be!” said Nina. “Perhaps so, to you,” said Anne; “but he is a troublesome person to manage. He is as wholly destitute of any moral organs as a jackdaw. One sometimes questions whether these creatures have any more than a reflected mimicry of a human soul — such as the German stories imagine in kobolds and water-spirits. All I can see in Dulcimer is a kind of fun-loving animal. He don’t seem to have any moral nature.”

  “Perhaps,” said Nina, “his moral nature is something like the cypress-vine seeds which I planted three months ago, and which have just come up.”

  “Well, I believe Edward expects to see it along, one of these days,” said Anne. “His faith in human nature is unbounded. I think it one of his foibles, for my part; but yet I try to have hopes of Dulcimer, that some day or other he will have some glimmering perceptions of the difference between a lie and the truth, and between his own things and other people’s. At present, he is the most lawless marauder on the place. He has been so used to having his wit to cover a multitude of sins, that it’s difficult for a scolding to make any impression on him. But, hark! isn’t that a horse? Somebody is coming up the avenue.”

  Both listened.

  “There are two,” said Nina.

  Just at this instant Clayton emerged to view accompanied by another rider, who, on nearer view, turned out to be Frank Russel. At the same instant, the
sound of violins and banjos was heard, and, to Anne’s surprise, a gayly dressed procession of servants and children began to file out from the grove, headed by Dulcimer and several of his associates, playing and singing.

  “There,” said Anne, “didn’t I tell you so. There’s the beginning of Dulcimer’s operations.”

  The air was one of those inexpressibly odd ones whose sharp, metallic accuracy of rhythm seems to mark the delight which the negro race feel in that particular element of music. The words, as usual, amounted to very little. Nina and Anne could hear, —

  “Oh, I see de mas’r a-comin’ up de track,

  His horse’s heels do clatter, with a clack, clack, clack!”

  The idea conveyed in these lines being still further carried out by the regular clapping of hands at every accented note, while every voice joined in the chorus: —

  “Sing, boys, sing; de mas’r is come!

  Give three cheers for de good man at home!

  Ho! he! ho! Hurra! hurra!”

  Clayton acknowledged the compliment as he came up, by bowing from his horse; and the procession arranged itself in a kind of lane, through which he and his companion rode up to the veranda.

  “‘Pon my word,” said Frank Russel, “I wasn’t prepared for such a demonstration. Quite a presidential reception!”

  When Clayton came to the steps and dismounted, a dozen sprang eagerly forward to take his horse, and in the crowding round for a word of recognition the order of the procession was entirely broken. After many kind words, and inquiries in every direction for a few moments, the people quietly retired, leaving their master to his own enjoyments.

  “You really have made quite a triumphal entry,” said Nina.

  “Dulcimer always exhausts himself on all such occasions,” said Anne, “so that he isn’t capable of any further virtue for two or three weeks.”

  “Well, take him while he is in flower, then!” said Russel. “But how perfectly cool and inviting you look. Really, quite idyllic! We must certainly have got into a fairy queen’s castle!”

  “But you must show us somewhere to shake the dust off of our feet,” said Clayton.

  “Yes,” said Anne, “there’s Aunt Praw waiting to show you your room. Go and make yourselves as fascinating as you can.”

  In a little while the gentlemen returned, in fresh white linen suits, and the business of the tea-table proceeded with alacrity.

  “Well, now,” said Anne, after tea, looking at her watch, “I must inform the company that we are all engaged to the opera this evening.”

  “Yes,” said Nina, “the Magnolia Grove Opera House is to be opened, and the Magnolia Troubadour Troupe to appear for the first time.”

  At this moment they were surprised by the appearance, below the veranda, of Dulcimer, with three of his colored associates, all wearing white ribbons in their buttonholes, and carrying white wands tied with satin ribbon, and gravely arranging themselves two and two on each side of the steps.

  “Why, Dulcimer, what’s this?” said Clayton.

  Dulcimer bowed with the gravity of a raven, and announced that the committee had come to wait on the gentlemen and ladies to their seats.

  “Oh,” said Anne, “we were not prepared for our part of the play!”

  “What a pity I didn’t bring my opera-hat!” said Nina. “Never mind,” she said, snatching a spray of multiflora rose, “this will do.” And she gave it one twist round her head, and her toilet was complete.

  “‘Pon my word, that’s soon done!” said Frank Russel, as he watched the coronet of half-opened buds and roses.

  “Yes,” said Nina. “Sit down, Anne; I forgot your crown. There, wait a moment; let me turn this leaf a little, and weave these buds in here — so. Now you are a Baltimore belle, to be sure! Now for the procession.”

  The opera house for the evening was an open space in the grove behind the house. Lamps had been hung up in the trees, twinkling on the glossy foliage. A sort of booth or arbor was built of flowers and leaves at one end, to which the party were marshaled in great state. Between two magnolia-trees a white curtain was hung up; and the moment the family party made their appearance, a chorus of voices from behind the scenes began an animated song of welcome.

  As soon as the party was seated the curtain rose, and the chorus, consisting of about thirty of the best singers, males and females, came forward, dressed in their best holiday costume, singing, and keeping step as they sung, and bearing in their hands bouquets, which, as they marched round the circle, they threw at the feet of the company. A wreath of orange-blossoms was significantly directed at Nina, and fell right into her lap.

  “These people seem to have had their eyes open. Coming events cast their shadows before!” said Russel.

  After walking around, the chorus seated themselves at the side of the area, and the space behind was filled up with a dense sea of heads — all the servants and plantation hands.

  “I declare,” said Russel, looking round on the crowd of dark faces, “this sable cloud is turning a silver lining with a witness! How neat and pretty that row of children looks!” And as they spoke, a procession of the children of Anne’s school came filing round in the same manner that the other had done, singing their school songs, and casting flowers before the company. After this, they seated themselves on low seats in front of all the others.

  Dulcimer and four of his companions now came into the centre.

  “There,” said Anne, “Dulcimer is going to be the centre-piece. He is the troubadour.”

  Dulcimer, in fact, commenced a kind of recitative, to the tune “Mas’r’s in the cold, cold ground.” After singing a few lines, the quartette took up the chorus, and their voices were really magnificent.

  “Why,” said Nina, “it seems to me they are beginning in a very doleful way.”

  “Oh,” said Anne, “wait a minute. This is the old mas’r, I fancy. We shall soon hear the tune changed.” And accordingly, Dulcimer, striking into a new tune, began to rehearse the coming in of a new master.

  “There,” said Anne, “now for a catalogue of Edward’s virtues! They must all be got in, rhyme or no rhyme.” Dulcimer kept on rehearsing. Every four lines the quartette struck in with the chorus, which was then repeated by the whole company, clapping their hands and stamping their feet to the time, with great vivacity.

  “Now, Anne, is coming your turn,” said Nina, as Dulcimer launched out, in most high-flown strains, on the beauty of Miss Anne.

  “Yes,” said Clayton, “the catalogue of your virtues will be something extensive.”

  “I shall escape, at any rate,” said Nina.

  “Don’t you be too sure,” said Anne. “Dulcimer has had his eye on you ever since you’ve been here.”

  And true enough, after the next stanza, Dulcimer assumed a peculiarly meaning expression.

  “There,” said Anne, “do see the wretch flirting himself out like a saucy crow! It’s coming! Now look out, Nina!”

  With a waggish expression from the corner of his downcast eyes, he sung: —

  “Oh, mas’r is often absent — do you know where he goes?

  He goes to North Carolina, for de North Carolina rose.”

  “There you are!” said Frank Russel. “Do you see the grin going round? What a lot of ivory! They are coming in this chorus, strong!”

  And the whole assembly, with great animation, poured out on the chorus: —

  “Oh, de North Carolina rose!

  Oh, de North Carolina rose!

  We wish good luck to mas’r,

  With de North Carolina rose!”

  This chorus was repeated with enthusiasm, clapping of hands, and laughing.

  “I think the North Carolina rose ought to rise!” said Russel.

  “Oh, hush!” said Anne; “Dulcimer hasn’t done yet.”

  Assuming an attitude, Dulcimer turned and sang to one of his associates in the quartette: —

  “Oh, I see two stars arising,

  Up in de shady skies!”


  To which the other responded, with animation: —

  “No, boy, you are mistaken;

  ‘T is de light of her fair eyes!”

  “That’s thorough, at any rate!” said Russel.

  While Dulcimer went on: —

  “Oh, I see two roses blowing,

  Togeder on one bed!”

  And the other responded: —

  “No, boy, you are mistaken;

  Dem are her cheeks so red!”

  “And they are getting redder!” said Anne, tapping Nina with her fan. “Dulcimer is evidently laying out his strength upon you, Nina!”

  Dulcimer went on singing: —

  “Oh, I see a grapevine running,

  With its curly rings, up dere!”

  And the response: —

  “No, boy, you are mistaken;

  ‘’Tis her rings of curly hair!”

  And the quartette here struck up: —

  “Oh, she walks on de veranda,

  And she laughs out of de door,

  And she dances like de sunshine

  Across de parlor floor.

  Her little feet, dey patter,

  Like de rain upon de flowers;

  And her laugh is like sweet waters,

  Through all de summer hours!”

  “Dulcimer has had help from some of the muses along there!” said Clayton, looking at Anne.

  “Hush!” said Anne; “hear the chorus.”

  “Oh, de North Carolina rose!

  Oh, de North Carolina rose!

  Oh, plant by our veranda

  De North Carolina rose!”

  This chorus was repeated with three times three, and the whole assembly broke into a general laugh, when the performers bowed and retired, and the white sheet, which was fastened by a pulley to the limb of a tree, was let down again.