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 night, 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. He 's here; he 's everywhere!
2d Woman. Lor! you an't gwine to make me believe dat ar! I know de Lord an't here; 't an't no use talking, though. I 's jest gwine to camp down, and sleep while I ken.
Uncle T. [Solus.] O Lord God! Where are thou? Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself, O God of Israel, the Saviour! [Lies down to sleep.]
Music and Voice in the air. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee, and the rivers they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee; for I am the Lord thy God, the Holy One of Israel, thy Saviour.
SCENE III.--The Cotton-House and Scales. LEGREE, QUIMBO and SAMBO.
Sambo. Dat ar Tom 's gwine to make a powerful deal o' trouble; kept a puttin' into Lucy's basket. One o' these yer dat will get all der niggers to feelin' 'bused, if mas'r don't watch him!
Legree. Hey-day! The black cuss! He 'll have to get a breakin' in, won't he, boys?
Quimbo. Ay, ay! let Mas'r Legree alone for breakin' in! De debil heself could n't beat mas'r at dat!
Leg. Wal, boys, the best way is to give him the flogging to do, till he gets over his notions. Break him in!
Samb. Lord, mas'r 'll have hard work to get dat out o' him!
Leg. It 'll have to come out of him, though!
Samb. Now, dar 's Lucy; de aggravatinest, ugliest wench on de place!
Leg. Take care, Sam! I shall begin to think what 's the reason for your spite agin Lucy.
Samb. Well, mas'r knows she sot herself up agin mas'r, and would n't have me when he telled her to.
Leg. I 'd a flogged her into 't, only there 's such a press of work it don't seem wuth a while to upset her jist now. She 's slender; but these yer slender gals will bear half killin' to get their own way.
Samb. Wal, Lucy was reall aggravatin' and lazy, sulkin' round; would n't do nothin'--and Tom he tuck up for her.
Leg. He did, eh! Wal, then, Tom shall have the pleasure of flogging her. It 'll be a good practice for him, and he won't put it on to the gals like you devils, neither.
Samb. and Quim. Ho, ho! haw! haw! haw!
Samb. Wal, but, mas'r, Tom and Misse Cassy, and dey among 'em, filled Lucy's basket. I ruther guess der weight 's in it, mas'r!
Leg. I do the weighing! So Misse Cassy did her day's work.
Samb. She picks like de debil and all his angels!
Leg. She 's got 'em all in her, I believe! O, here they come!
Enter UNCLE TOM, and women with baskets. Leg. Come, on here! [Weighs TOM'S basket.] Soh! Ah! Well for you! [TOM places LUCY'S basket on the scales.] What, ye lazy beast! short again? Get away-- ye 'll catch it pretty soon!
Lucy. [Groans.] O Lor! O Lor!
[Sits.] Cas. [Brings her basket to the scales.]
Leg. Well, my beauty! How d' ye like it?
Cas. Beaucoup mieux que de vivre avec une bete telle comme vous.
[Exit.] Leg. And now, come here, you Tom! You see, I telled ye I did n't buy ye jest for the common work; I mean to promote ye, and make a driver of ye; and to-night ye may jest as well begin to get yer hand in. Now, ye jest take this yer gal and flog her. Ye 've seen enough on 't to know how.
Uncle T. I beg mas'r's pardon; hopes mas'r won't set me at that. It 's what I an't used to; never did; and can't do, no way possible.
Leg. Ye 'll larn a pretty smart chance of things ye never did know, before I 've done with ye! [Thrashes TOM with cowhide.] There, now! will ye tell me ye can't do i t?
Uncle T. Yes, mas'r! I 'm willin' to work, night and day, and work while there 's life and breath in me; but this yer thing I can't feel it right to do; and, mas'r, I never shall do it--never!
Lucy. O Lord!
Slaves. O! O!
Leg. [Foaming.] What! ye blasted black beast! tell me ye don't think it right to to
what I tell ye! What have any of you cussed cattle to do with thinking what 's right? I 'll put a stop to it! Why, what do ye think ye are? May be ye think ye 'r a gentleman, master Tom, to be a telling your master what 's right, and what an't! So you pretend it 's wrong to flog the gal.
Uncle T. I think so, mas'r; the poor crittur 's sick and feeble; 't would be downright cruel, and it 's what I never will do, nor begin to.
Leg. Well, here 's a pious dog, at last set down among us sinners! a saint, a gentleman, and no less, to talk to us sinners about our sins; powerful holy critter he must be! Here, you rascal! you make believe to be so pious--did n't you never hear, out of your Bible, "Servants obey your masters"? An't I your master? Did n't I pay down twelve hundred dollars, cash, for all there is inside yer old cussed black shell? An't yet mine, now, body and soul? Tell me!
Uncle T. No, no, no! my soul an't yours, mas'r! You have n't bought it--you can't buy it! It has been bought and paid for by One that 's able to keep it. No matter, no matter, you can't harm me!
Leg. I can't! we 'll see! we 'll see! Here Sambo! Quimbo! give this dog such a breakin' in as he won't get over this month!
SCENE IV.--An old Gin-house Garret. UNCLE TOM lying on the floor.
Uncle Tom. O, good Lord, do look down! Give me the vict-ry! give me the vict'ry!
Enter CASSY, with lantern. Uncle T. Who 's there? O, for mercy's sake, give me some water!
Cassy. Drink all you want. I knew how 't would be! 'T an't the first time I been out o' night carrying water to such as you.
Uncle T. Thank ye, missis!
Cas. Don't call me missis! I 'm a miserable slave like you. A lower one that you can ever be! But let me see if I can't make you more comfortable. [Places a pillow under his head.] There, my poor fellow, there! that 's the best I can do for you!
Uncle T. Thank you, missis!
Cas. [Sitting.] It 's no use, my poor fellow; it 's of no use, this you 've been trying to do. You were a brave fellow; you had the right on your side; but it 's all in vain, and out of the question, for you to struggle. You are in the devil's hands; he is the strongest, and you must give up.