In Which the Reader Is Introduced to a Man of Humanity
Late in the afternoon of a chilly day in February, two gentlemen were
sitting alone over their wine, in a well-furnished dining parlor, in
the town of P——, in Kentucky. There were no servants present, and the
gentlemen, with chairs closely approaching, seemed to be discussing
some subject with great earnestness.
For convenience sake, we have said, hitherto, two gentlemen. One of
the parties, however, when critically examined, did not seem, strictly
speaking, to come under the species. He was a short, thick-set man,
with coarse, commonplace features, and that swaggering air of
pretension which marks a low man who is trying to elbow his way upward
in the world. He was much over-dressed, in a gaudy vest of many colors,
a blue neckerchief, bedropped gayly with yellow spots, and arranged
with a flaunting tie, quite in keeping with the general air of the man.
His hands, large and coarse, were plentifully bedecked with rings; and
he wore a heavy gold watch-chain, with a bundle of seals of portentous
size, and a great variety of colors, attached to it,—which, in the
ardor of conversation, he was in the habit of flourishing and jingling
with evident satisfaction. His conversation was in free and easy
defiance of Murray’s Grammar,[1] and was garnished at convenient
intervals with various profane expressions, which not even the desire
to be graphic in our account shall induce us to transcribe.
[1] English Grammar (1795), by Lindley Murray (1745-1826), the most
authoritative American grammarian of his day.
His companion, Mr. Shelby, had the appearance of a gentleman; and the
arrangements of the house, and the general air of the housekeeping,
indicated easy, and even opulent circumstances. As we before stated,
the two were in the midst of an earnest conversation.
“That is the way I should arrange the matter,” said Mr. Shelby.
“I can’t make trade that way—I positively can’t, Mr. Shelby,” said the
other, holding up a glass of wine between his eye and the light.
“Why, the fact is, Haley, Tom is an uncommon fellow; he is certainly
worth that sum anywhere,—steady, honest, capable, manages my whole farm
like a clock.”
“You mean honest, as niggers go,” said Haley, helping himself to a
glass of brandy.
“No; I mean, really, Tom is a good, steady, sensible, pious fellow. He
got religion at a camp-meeting, four years ago; and I believe he really
did get it. I’ve trusted him, since then, with everything I
have,—money, house, horses,—and let him come and go round the country;
and I always found him true and square in everything.”
“Some folks don’t believe there is pious niggers Shelby,” said Haley,
with a candid flourish of his hand, “but I do. I had a fellow, now,
in this yer last lot I took to Orleans—’t was as good as a meetin’,
now, really, to hear that critter pray; and he was quite gentle and
quiet like. He fetched me a good sum, too, for I bought him cheap of
a man that was ’bliged to sell out; so I realized six hundred on him.
Yes, I consider religion a valeyable thing in a nigger, when it’s the
genuine article, and no mistake.”
“Well, Tom’s got the real article, if ever a fellow had,” rejoined the
other. “Why, last fall, I let him go to Cincinnati alone, to do
business for me, and bring home five hundred dollars. ‘Tom,’ says I to
him, ‘I trust you, because I think you’re a Christian—I know you
wouldn’t cheat.’ Tom comes back, sure enough; I knew he would. Some low
fellows, they say, said to him—‘Tom, why don’t you make tracks for
Canada?’ ‘Ah, master trusted me, and I couldn’t,’—they told me about
it. I am sorry to part with Tom, I must say. You ought to let him cover
the whole balance of the debt; and you would, Haley, if you had any
conscience.”
“Well, I’ve got just as much conscience as any man in business can
afford to keep,—just a little, you know, to swear by, as ’t were,” said
the trader, jocularly; “and then, I’m ready to do anything in reason
to ’blige friends; but this yer, you see, is a leetle too hard on a
fellow—a leetle too hard.” The trader sighed contemplatively, and
poured out some more brandy.
“Well, then, Haley, how will you trade?” said Mr. Shelby, after an
uneasy interval of silence.
“Well, haven’t you a boy or gal that you could throw in with Tom?”
“Hum!—none that I could well spare; to tell the truth, it’s only hard
necessity makes me willing to sell at all. I don’t like parting with
any of my hands, that’s a fact.”
Here the door opened, and a small quadroon boy, between four and five
years of age, entered the room. There was something in his appearance
remarkably beautiful and engaging. His black hair, fine as floss silk,
hung in glossy curls about his round, dimpled face, while a pair of
large dark eyes, full of fire and softness, looked out from beneath the
rich, long lashes, as he peered curiously into the apartment. A gay
robe of scarlet and yellow plaid, carefully made and neatly fitted, set
off to advantage the dark and rich style of his beauty; and a certain
comic air of assurance, blended with bashfulness, showed that he had
been not unused to being petted and noticed by his master.
“Hulloa, Jim Crow!” said Mr. Shelby, whistling, and snapping a bunch of
raisins towards him, “pick that up, now!”
The child scampered, with all his little strength, after the prize,
while his master laughed.
“Come here, Jim Crow,” said he. The child came up, and the master
patted the curly head, and chucked him under the chin.
“Now, Jim, show this gentleman how you can dance and sing.” The boy
commenced one of those wild, grotesque songs common among the negroes,
in a rich, clear voice, accompanying his singing with many comic
evolutions of the hands, feet, and whole body, all in perfect time to
the music.
“Bravo!” said Haley, throwing him a quarter of an orange.
“Now, Jim, walk like old Uncle Cudjoe, when he has the rheumatism,”
said his master.
Instantly the flexible limbs of the child assumed the appearance of
deformity and distortion, as, with his back humped up, and his master’s
stick in his hand, he hobbled about the room, his childish face drawn
into a doleful pucker, and spitting from right to left, in imitation of
an old man.
Both gentlemen laughed uproariously.
“Now, Jim,” said his master, “show us how old Elder Robbins leads the
psalm.” The boy drew his chubby face down to a formidable length, and
commenced toning a psalm tune through his nose, with imperturbable
gravity.
“Hurrah! bravo! what a young ’un!” said Haley; “that chap’s a case,
I’ll promise. Tell you what,” said he, suddenly clapping his hand on
Mr. Shelby’s shoulder, “fling in that chap, and I’ll settle the
business—I will. Come, now, if that ain’t doing the thing up about the
rightest!”
At this moment, the door was pushed gently open, and a young quadroon
woman, apparently about twenty-five, entered the room.
There needed only a glance from the child to her, to identify her as
its mother. There was the same rich, full, dark eye, with its long
lashes; the same ripples of silky black hair. The brown of her
complexion gave way on the cheek to a perceptible flush, which deepened
as she saw the gaze of the strange man fixed upon her in bold and
undisguised admiration. Her dress was of the neatest possible fit, and
set off to advantage her finely moulded shape;—a delicately formed hand
and a trim foot and ankle were items of appearance that did not escape
the quick eye of the trader, well used to run up at a glance the points
of a fine female article.
“Well, Eliza?” said her master, as she stopped and looked hesitatingly
at him.
“I was looking for Harry, please, sir;” and the boy bounded toward her,
showing his spoils, which he had gathered in the skirt of his robe.
“Well, take him away, then,” said Mr. Shelby; and hastily she withdrew,
carrying the child on her arm.
“By Jupiter,” said the trader, turning to him in admiration, “there’s
an article, now! You might make your fortune on that ar gal in Or