HARRIET BEECHER STOWE (1811-1896)

The author of Uncle Tom's Cabin came from the heart of the old New England Calvinism. Her father was Lyman Beecher, and among her six preacher brothers was Henry Ward Beecher, the well-known pulpit orator of Brooklyn. She was a daughter of the manse, like the Brönte sisters, reared amid bookish surroundings in an atmosphere redolent of theological controversy. Her temperament, naturally sensitive and intense, was rendered over-emotional and almost mor、 bidly introspective by her religious training. Her education was gained in private schools for girls and it went not far, for those were the days before colleges for women. It gave her a nunlike view of life and it fed her already over-developed emotional nature. Then at twenty-one came the really great educating influence of her life: she went West with her father who had been elected the first president of Lane Theological Seminary in Cincinnati, and there she lived for the next seventeen years, teaching in the schools for two years and then becoming the wife of Professor Calvin E. Stowe of the Seminary. Literary work she took up at first as a desperate resort for increasing the household income. Her first volume The Mayflower, 1843, she produced with a family of seven small children about her. When in 1850 Professor Stowe was called to Bowdoin, the family finances were at lowest ebb, and again, though almost overwhelmed by nousehold duties, she sought her pen, this time for a short serial for the National Era, an anti-slavery paper of Washington. She had never been in the black belt' of the South, though she had caught glimpses of slavery during a brief visit to a plantation in Kentucky, but she knew well the underground railroad' of Ohio and she had seen much of fugitive slaves. The story took complete possession of her. It ran from June 5, 1851, to April 1, 1852, until indeed it was material for two volumes. It was written with intense emotion: chapters of it she wrote sobbing in utter abandon like Dickens; after the death of little Eva she was ill for a fortnight. It was keyed perfectly to the emotionalism of the times, and it sold as no other book in our history has ever sold since. Nearly the whole population read itespecially in the North,- and it swept over England and indeed over all Europe. As we read it to-day it seems in many ways crude and unbalanced, but even to-day one may feel its power. It has movement; it has what American prose, up to that time influenced so greatly by Irving, had greatly lacked dramatic force. Moreover, it contained an intense moral appeal which made it acceptable even to the puritanic element that classed fiction with playing cards. From the date it appeared its author was famous and internationally famous. She wrote much in the years that followed: Dred, or Nina Gordon, 1856, which was lost in the fierce light of Uncle Tom's Cabin, and among much general material several studies of Calvinistic New England days: The Minister's Wooing, 1859, The Pearl of Orr's Island, 1862, and Old Town Folks, 1869. These undoubtedly are her best creations. She was admirably fitted for interpreting early New England both by her early training and by the sense of detachment that had come from her long residence in the West. These books undoubtedly greatly influenced that later school of depicters of New England, the leaders of which were Mrs. Cooke, Miss Jewett, Mrs. Freeman, and Alice Brown.

and cunning, over which was oddly drawn,
like a kind of veil, an expression of the
most doleful gravity and solemnity. She
was dressed in a single filthy, ragged gar-
ment, made of bagging; and stood with 5
her hands demurely folded before her.
Altogether, there was something odd and
goblin-like about her appearance — some-
thing, as Miss Ophelia afterward said:
so heathenish,' as to inspire that good 10
lady with utter dismay; and, turning to
St. Clare, she said:

'Augustine, what in the world have you brought that thing here for?'

'For you to educate, to be sure, and 15 train in the way she should go. I thought she was rather a funny specimen in the "Jim Crow" line. Here, Topsy,' he added, giving a whistle, as a man would to call the attention of a dog, 'give us 20 a song, now, and show us some of your dancing.'

The black, glassy eyes glittered with a kind of wicked drollery, and the thing struck up, in a clear shrill voice, an old 25 negro melody, to which she kept time with her hands and feet, spinning round, clapping her hands, knocking her knees together, in a wild, fantastic sort of time, and producing in her throat all those 30 odd guttural sounds which distinguish the native music of her race; and finally, turning a somersault or two, and giving a prolonged closing note, as odd and unearthly as that of a steam-whistle, she 35 came suddenly down on the carpet, and stood with her hands folded, and a most sanctimonious expression of meekness and solemnity over her face, only broken by the cunning glances which she shot 40 askance from the corners of her eyes.

Miss Ophelia stood silent, perfectly paralyzed with amazement.

St. Clare, like a mischievous fellow as he was, appeared to enjoy her astonish- 45 ment; and, addressing the child again,

said:

Topsy, this is your new mistress. I am going to give you up to her; see now that you behave yourself.'

'Yes, mas'r,' said Topsy, with sanctimonious gravity, her wicked eyes twinkling as she spoke.

You're going to be good, Topsy; you understand,' said St. Clare.

'O, yes, mas'r,' said Topsy, with another twinkle. her hands still devoutly folded.

Now, Augustine, what upon earth is this for?' said Miss Ophelia. 'Your house is so full of these little plagues, now, that a body can't set down their foot without treading on 'em. I get up in the morning, and find one asleep behind the door, and see one black head poking out from under the table, one lying on the door-mat- and they are mopping and mowing and grinning between all the railings, and tumbling over the kitchen floor! What on earth did you want to bring this one for?>

For you to educate - did n't I tell you? You are always preaching about educating. I thought I would make you a present of a fresh-caught specimen, and let you try your hand on her, and bring her up in the way she should go.'

'I don't want her, I am sure; I have more to do with 'em now than I want to.'

'That's you Christians, all over! You'll get up a society, and get some poor missionary to spend all his days among just such heathen. But let me see one of you that would take one into your house with you, and take the labor of their conversion on yourselves! No; when it comes to that, they are dirty and disagreeable, and it's too much care, and

so on.'

'Augustine, you know I did n't think of it in that light,' said Miss Ophelia, evidently softening. Well, it might be a real missionary work,' she said, looking rather more favorably on the child.

was

St. Clare had touched the right string. Miss Ophelia's conscientiousness ever on the alert. But,' she added, 'I really did n't see the need of buying this one; there are enough now, in your house, to take up all my time and skill.'

"Well, then, cousin,' said St. Clare, drawing her aside, I ought to beg your pardon for my good-for-nothing speeches. You are so good, after all, that there's no sense in them. Why, the fact is, this concern belonged to a couple of drunken crea50 tures that keep a low restaurant that I have to pass by every day, and I was tired of hearing her screaming, and them beating and swearing at her. She looked bright and funny, too, as if something 55 might be made of her; so I bought her, and I'll give her to you. Try, now, and give her a good orthodox New England bringing up, and see what it'll make of

her. You know I have n't any gift that way; but I'd like you to try.'

"Well, I'll do what I can,' said Miss Ophelia; and she approached her new subject very much as a person might be supposed to approach a black spider, supposing them to have benevolent designs toward it.

'She's dreadfully dirty, and half naked,' she said.

'Well, take her down stairs, and make some of them clean and clothe her up.'

Miss Ophelia carried her to the kitchen regions.

ing! I wonder that mas'r would buy her!'

The young un' alluded to heard all these comments with the subdued and 5 doleful air which seemed habitual to her, only scanning, with a keen and furtive glance of her flickering eyes, the ornaments which Jane wore in her ears. When arrayed at last in a suit of decent 10 and whole clothing, her hair cropped short to her head, Miss Ophelia, with some satisfaction, said she looked more Christian-like than she did, and in her own mind began to mature some plans for her

Sitting down before her, she began to question her.

Don't see what Mas'r St. Clare wants 15 instruction. of 'nother nigger!' said Dinah, surveying the new arrival with no friendly air. 'Won't have her round under my feet, I know!'

'Pah!' said Rosa and Jane, with su- 20 preme disgust; 'let her keep out of our way! What in the world mas'r wants another of these low niggers for, I can't see!'

'You go long! No more nigger dan 25 you be, Miss Rosa,' said Dinah, who felt this last remark a reflection on herself. 'You seem to tink yourself white folks. You ain't nerry one, black nor white. I'd like to be one or turrer.'

How old are you, Topsy?'

'Dun no, missis,' said the image, with a grin that showed all her teeth.

'Don't know how old you are? Didn't anybody ever tell you? Who was your mother?'

'Never had none!' said the child, with another grin.

'Never had any mother? What do you mean? Where were you born?'

'Never was born!' persisted Topsy, with another grin, that looked so goblin30 like, that, if Miss Ophelia had been at all nervous, she might have fancied that she had got hold of some sooty gnome from the land of Diablerie; but Miss Ophelia was not nervous, but plain and businesslike, and she said, with some sternness :

Miss Ophelia saw that there was nobody in the camp that would undertake to oversee the cleansing and dressing of the new arrival; and so she was forced to do it herself, with some very ungracious and 35 reluctant assistance from Jane.

It is not for ears polite to hear the
particulars of the first toilet of a neglected,
abused child. In fact, in this world, mul-
titudes must live and die in a state that 40
would be too great a shock to the nerves
of their fellow-mortals even to hear de-
scribed. Miss Ophelia had a good,
strong, practical deal of resolution; and
she went through all the disgusting de- 45
tails with heroic thoroughness, though,
it must be confessed, with no very gracious
air- for endurance was the utmost to
which her principles could bring her.
When she saw, on the back and shoulders 50
of the child, great welts and calloused
spots, ineffaceable marks of the system
under which she had grown up thus far,
her heart became pitiful within her.

See there!' said Jane, pointing to the 55
marks, 'don't that show she's a limb?
We'll have fine works with her, I reckon.
I hate these nigger young uns! so disgust-

"You must n't answer me in that way, child; I'm not playing with you. Tell me where you were born, and who your father and mother were.'

'Never was born,' reiterated the creature, more emphatically; never had no father nor mother, nor nothin'. I was raised by a speculator, with lots of others. Old Aunt Sue used to take car on us.'

The child was evidently sincere; and Jane breaking into a short laugh, said:

'Laws, missis, there's heaps of 'em. Speculators buys 'em up cheap, when they's little, and gets 'em raised for market.'

'How long have you lived with your master and mistress?

'Dun no, missis.'

'Is it a year, or more, or less?'
'Dun no, missis.'

'Laws, missis, those low negroes they can't tell; they don't know anything about time,' said Jane, ‘they don't know

what a year is; they don't know their own ages.'

Have you ever heard anything about God, Topsy?

The child looked bewildered, but grinned as usual.

'Do you know who made you?'

Nobody, as I knows on,' said the child, with a short laugh.

resolved to confine her sphere of operation and instruction chiefly to her own chamber. With a self sacrifice which some of our readers will appreciate, she 5 resolved, instead of comfortably making her own bed, sweeping and dusting her own chamber, which she had hitherto done, in utter scorn of all offers of help from the chambermaid of the establish

The idea appeared to amuse her con- 10 ment to condemn herself to the martyrsiderably; for her eyes twinkled, and she added:

'I s'pect I grow'd. Don't think nobody never made me.'

'Do you know how to sew?' said Miss 15 Ophelia, who thought she would turn her inquiries to something more tangible.

No, missis.'

What can you do? what did you do for your master and mistress?'

'Fetch water, and wash dishes, and rub knives, and wait on folks.'

'Were they good to you?'

'S'pect they was,' said the child, scanning Miss Ophelia cunningly.

Miss Ophelia rose from this encouraging colloquy; St. Clare was leaning over the back of her chair.

20

dom of instructing Topsy to perform these operations—ah, woe the day! Did any of our readers ever do the same, they will appreciate the amount of her self-sacrifice.

Miss Ophelia began with Topsy by taking her into her chamber, the first morning, and solemnly commencing a course of instruction in the art and mystery of bedmaking.

Behold, then, Topsy, washed and shorn of all the little braided tails wherein her heart had delighted, arrayed in a clean gown, with well-starched apron, standing reverently before Miss Ophelia, with an 25 expression of solemnity well befitting a funeral.

'You'll find virgin soil there, cousin; put in your own ideas-you won't find 30 many to pull up.'

Miss Ophelia's ideas of education, like all her other ideas, were very set and definite; and of the kind that prevailed in New England a century ago, and which 35 are still preserved in some very retired and unsophisticated parts, where there are no railroads. As nearly as could be expressed, they could be comprised in very few words: to teach them to mind when 40 they were spoken to; to teach them the catechism, sewing, and reading; and to whip them if they told lies. And though, of course, in the flood of light that is now poured on education, these are left far 45 away in the rear, yet it is an undisputed fact that our grandmothers raised some tolerably fair men and women under this régime, as many of us can remember and testify. At all events Miss Ophelia knew 50 of nothing else to do; and, therefore, applied her mind to her heathen with the best diligence she could command.

The child was announced and considered in the family as Miss Ophelia's girl; and, as she was looked upon with no gracious eye in the kitchen, Miss Ophelia

55

'Now, Topsy, I'm going to show you just how my bed is to be made. I am very particular about my bed. You must learn exactly how to do it.'

'Yes, ma'am,' says Topsy, with a deep sigh, and a face of woeful earnestness.

Now, Topsy, look here; this is the hem of the sheet-this is the right side of the sheet, and this is the wrong; will you remember?'

'Yes, ma'am,' says Topsy, with another sigh.

Well, now, the under sheet you must bring over the bolster-so- and tuck it clear down under the mattress nice and smooth so do you see?'