NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STORY.
THE reader will remember that we left Nicholas seeking his way to
Mr. Grabguy's workshop, situated in the outskirts of the city. And
we must here inform him that considerable change in the social
position of the younger Grabguy family has taken place since we left
them, which is some years ago. The elder Grabguy, who, it will be
remembered, was very distinguished as his Worship the Mayor of the
City (that also was some years ago), has departed this life, leaving
the present principal of the Grabguy family a large portion of his
estate, which, being mostly of "nigger property," requires some
little transforming before it can be made to suit his more extended
business arrangements. This material addition to the already well-
reputed estate of Mr. Grabguy warrants his admittance into very
respectable, and, some say, rather distinguished society. Indeed, it
is more than whispered, that when the question of admitting Mr. and
Mrs. Grabguy to the membership of a very select circle, the saintly
cognomen of which is as indefinable as its system of selecting
members, or the angles presented by the nasal organs of a few ladies
when anything short of the very first families are proposed, there
were seven very fashionable ladies for, and only three against. The
greatest antagonist the Grabguys have to getting into the embrace of
this very select circle is Mrs. Chief Justice Pimpkins, a matronly
body of some fifty summers, who declares there can be no judge in
the world so clever as her own dear Pimpkins, and that society was
becoming so vulgar and coarse, and so many low people-whose English
was as hopefully bad as could be, and who never spoke when they
didn't impugn her risible nerves-were intruding themselves upon its
polished sanctity, that she felt more and more every day the
necessity of withdrawing entirely from it, and enjoying her own
exclusively distinguished self. In the case of Grabguy's admittance
to the St. Cecilia, my Lady Pimpkins-she is commonly called Lady
Chief Justice Pimpkins-had two most formidable black balls; the
first because Mrs. Grabguy's father was a bread-baker, and the
second that the present Grabguy could not be considered a gentleman
while he continued in mechanical business. Another serious objection
Mrs. Pimpkins would merely suggest as a preventive;--such people
were ill suited to mix with titled and other distinguished society!
But, Grabguy, to make up for the vexatious rejection, has got to be
an alderman, which is a step upward in the scale of his father's
attained distinction. There is nothing more natural, then, than that
Grabguy should seek his way up in the world, with the best means at
his hands; it is a worthy trait of human nature, and is as natural
to the slave. In this instance-when master and slave are both
incited to a noble purpose-Grabguy is a wealthy alderman, and
Nicholas-the whiter of the two-his abject slave. The master, a man
of meagre mind, and exceedingly avaricious, would make himself
distinguished in society; the slave, a mercurial being of
impassioned temper, whose mind is quickened by a sense of the
injustice that robs him of his rights, seeks only freedom and what
may follow in its order.
Let us again introduce the reader to Nicholas, as his manly figure,
marked with impressive features, stands before us, in Grabguy's
workshop. Tall, and finely formed, he has grown to manhood,
retaining all the quick fiery impulses of his race. Those black eyes
wandering irresistibly, that curl of contempt that sits upon his
lip, that stare of revenge that scowls beneath those heavy eyebrows,
and that hate of wrong that ever and anon pervades the whole, tell
how burns in his heart the elements of a will that would brave death
for its rights-that would bear unmoved the oppressor's lash-that
would embrace death rather than yield to perfidy. He tells us-"I
came here, sold-so they said-by God's will. Well. I thought to
myself, isn't this strange, that a curious God-they tell me he loves
everybody-should sell me? It all seemed like a misty waste to me. I
remembered home-I learned to read, myself-I remembered mother, I
loved her, but she left me, and I have never seen her since. I loved
her, dear mother! I did love her; but they said she was gone far
away, and I musn't mind if I never see'd her again. It seemed hard
and strange, but I had to put up with it, for they said I never had
a father, and my mother had no right to me" (his piercing black eyes
glare, as fervently he says, mother!). "I thought, at last, it was
true, for everybody had a right to call me nigger,--a blasted white
nigger, a nigger as wouldn't be worth nothing. And then they used to
kick me, and cuff me, and lash me; and if nigger was nigger I was
worse than a nigger, because every black nigger was laughing at me,
and telling me what a fool of a white nigger I was;--that white
niggers was nobody, could be nobody, and was never intended for
nobody, as nobody knew where white niggers come from. But I didn't
believe all this; it warn't sensible. Something said-Nicholas!
you're just as good as anybody: learn to read, write, and cypher,
and you'll be something yet. And this something-I couldn't tell what
it was, nor could I describe it-seemed irresistible in its power to
carry me to be that somebody it prompted in my feelings. I was
white, and when I looked at myself I knew I wasn't a nigger; and
feeling that everybody could be somebody, I began to look forward to
the time when I should rise above the burden of misfortune that
seemed bearing me down into the earth. And then, Franconia, like a
sister, used to come to me, and say so many kind things to me that I
felt relieved, and resolved to go forward. Then I lost sight of
Franconia, and saw nobody I knew but Annette; and she seemed so
pretty, and loved me so affectionately. How long it seems since I
have seen her! She dressed me so nicely, and parted my hair, and
kissed me so kindly; and said good-by, when I left her, so in
regret, I never can forget it. And it was then they said I was sold.
Mr. Graspum said he owned me, and owning me was equal to doing what
he pleased with me. Then I went home to Mr. Grabguy's; and they said
Mr. Grabguy owned me just as he owned his great big dog they called
a democratic bull-dog, the foreman said he paid a democratic
ten-dollar gold piece for. They used to say the only difference
between me and the dog was, that the dog could go where he pleased
without being lashed, and I couldn't. And the dog always got enough
to eat, and seemed a great favourite with everybody, whereas I got
only more kicks than cucumbers, didn't seem liked by anybody, and if
I got enough to eat I had nobody to thank but good old Margery, the
cook, who was kind to me now and then, and used to say-"I like you,
Nicholas!" And that used to make me feel so happy! Old Margery was
coal-black; but I didn't care for that,--the knowledge of somebody
loving you is enough to light up the happy of life, and make the
heart feel contented. In this manner my thoughts went here and there
and everywhere; and the truth is, I had so many thoughts, that I got
completely bewildered in thinking how I was to better myself, and be
like other folks. Mr. Grabguy seemed kind to me at first,--said he
would make a great mechanic of me, and give me a chance to buy
myself. I didn't know what this "buy myself" meant, at first. But I
soon found out-he tells us he must speak with caution-that I must
pay so many hundred dollars afore I could be like other folks. The
kindness Mr. Grabguy at first exhibited for me didn't last long; he
soon began to kick me, and cuff me, and swear at me. And it 'pear'd
to me as if I never could please anybody, and so my feelings got so
embittered I didn't know what to do. I was put into the shop among
the men, and one said Nigger, here! and another said, Nigger, get
there!-and they all seemed not to be inclined to help me along. And
then I would get in a passion: but that never made things better.
The foreman now and then said a kind word to me; and whenever he
did, it made my heart feel so good that I seemed a new being with
brighter hopes. Well, Mr. Grabguy put me to turning the grindstone,
first; and from turning the grindstone-the men used to throw water
in my face when they ground their chisels, and their plane irons,
and axes and adzes-I was learned to saw, and to plain boards, and
then to mortice and frame, and make mouldings, and window-sashes,
and door-frames. When I could do all these, master used to say I was
bound to make a great workman, and, laughingly, would say I was the
most valuable property he ever owned. About this time I began to
find out how it was that the other white folks owned themselves and
master owned me; but then, if I said anything about it, master might
tie me up and lash me as he used to do; and so I remained quiet, but
kept up a thinking. By and by I got perfect at the carpenter's
trade, and I learned engineering; and when I had got engineering
perfect, I took a fancy for making stucco work and images. And
people said I learned wondrously fast, and was the best workman far
or near. Seeing these things, people used to be coming to me, and
talking to me about my value, and then end by wanting me to make
them specimens of stucco. I seemed liked by everybody who came to
see me, and good people had a kind word for me; but Mr. Grabguy was
very strict, and wouldn't allow me to do anything without his
permission. People said my work was perfect, and master said I was a
perfect piece of property; and it used to pain deep into my heart
when master spoke so. Well! I got to be a man, and when the foreman
got drunk master used to put me in his place. And after a while I
got to be foreman altogether: but I was a slave, they said, and men
wouldn't follow my directions when master was away; they all
acknowledged that I was a good workman, but said a nigger never
should be allowed to direct and order white people. That made my
very blood boil, as I grew older, because I was whiter than many of
them. However, submit was the word; and I bore up and trusted to
heaven for deliverance, hoping the day would come soon when its will
would be carried out. With my knowledge of mechanics increased a
love of learning, which almost amounted to a passion. They said it
was against the law for a nigger to read; but I was raised so far
above black niggers that I didn't mind what the law said: so I got
'Pilgrim's Progress,' and the Bible, and 'Young's Night Thoughts,'
and from them I learned great truths: they gave me new hopes,
refreshed my weary soul, and made me like a new-clothed being ready
to soar above the injustice of this life. Oh, how I read them at
night, and re-read them in the morning, and every time found
something new in them, something that suited my case! Through the
sentiments imbibed from them I saw freedom hanging out its light of
love, fascinating me, and inciting me to make a death struggle to
gain it.
"One day, as I was thinking of my hard fate, and how I did all the
work and master got all the money for it-and how I had to live and
how he lived, master came in-looking good-natured. He approached
me, shook hands with me, said I was worth my weight in gold; and
then asked me how I would like to be free. I told him I would jump
for joy, would sing praises, and be glad all the day long.
"'Aint you contented where you are, Nicholas?' he enquired. I told
him I didn't dislike him; but freedom was sweetest. 'Give me a
chance of my freedom, master, and yet you may know me as a man,'
says I, feeling that to be free was to be among the living; to be a
slave was to be among the moving dead. To this he said, he always
had liked me, was proud of me, had unbounded confidence in my
directions over the men, and always felt safe when he went from home
leaving things in my charge. 'In this view of the case, Nicholas,'
he says, 'I have come to the conclusion,--and it's Mrs. Grabguy's
conclusion, too,--to let you work evenings, on overtime, for
yourself. You can earn a deal of money that way, if you please; just
save it up, and let me keep it for you, and in consideration of your
faithfulness I will set you free whenever you get a thousand dollars
to put into my hands. Now that's generous-I want to do the straight
thing, and so Mrs. Grabguy wants to do the straight thing; and what
money you save you can put in Mrs. Grabguy's hands for safe keeping.
She's a noble-minded woman, and 'll take good care of it.' This was
to me like entering upon a new life of hope and joy. How my heart
yearned for the coming day, when I should be free like other folks!
I worked and struggled by night and day; and good Mr. Simons
befriended me, and procured me many little orders, which I executed,
and for which I got good pay. All my own earnings I put into Mrs.
Grabguy's hands; and she told me she would keep it for me, safe,
till I got enough to buy my freedom. My confidence in these
assurances was undivided. I looked upon Mrs. Grabguy as a friend and
mother; and good Mr. Simons, who was poor but honest, did many kind
things to help me out. When I got one hundred dollars in missus'
hands I jumped for joy; with it I seemed to have got over the first
difficult step in the great mountain. Then missus said I must take
Jerushe for my wife. I didn't like Jerushe at first--she was almost
black; but missus said we were both slaves; hence, that could be no
objection. As missus's order was equally as positive as master's,
there was no alternative but to obey it, and Jerushe became my wife.
We were lawfully married, and missus made a nice little party for
us, and Jerushe loved me, and was kind to me, and her solicitude for
my welfare soon made me repay her love. I pitied her condition, and
she seemed to pity mine; and I soon forgot that she was black, and
we lived happily together, and had two children, which missus said
were hers. It was hard to reconcile this, and yet it was so, by law
as well as social right. But then missus was kind to Jerushe, and
let her buy her time at four dollars a week, which, having learned
to make dresses, she could pay and have a small surplus to lay by
every week. Jerushe knew I was struggling for freedom, and she would
help me to buy that freedom, knowing that, if I was free, I would
return her kindness, and struggle to make her free, and our children
free.
"Years rolled on,--we had placed nearly five hundred dollars in
missus's hands: but how vain were the hopes that had borne us
through so many privations for the accumulation of this portion of
our price of freedom! Master has sold my children,--yes, sold them!
He will not tell me where nor to whom. Missus will neither see nor
hear me; and master threatens to sell me to New Orleans if I resent
his act. To what tribunal can I appeal for justice? Shut from the
laws of my native land, what justice is there for the slave where
injustice makes its law oppression? Master may sell me, but he
cannot vanquish the spirit God has given me; never, never, will I
yield to his nefarious designs. I have but one life to yield up a
sacrifice for right-I care not to live for wrong!" Thus he speaks,
as his frenzied soul burns with indignation. His soul's love was
freedom; he asked but justice to achieve it. Sick at heart he has
thrown up that zeal for his master's welfare which bore him onward,
summoned his determination to resist to the last-to die rather than
again confront the dreary waste of a slave's life. Grabguy has
forfeited the amount deposited by Nicholas as part of the price of
his freedom,--betrayed his confidence.
He tells us his simple story, as the workmen, with fear on their
countenances, move heedlessly about the room. As he concludes,
Grabguy, with sullen countenance, enters the great door at the end
of the building; he is followed by three men in official garbs, two
of whom bear manacles in their hands. Nicholas's dark eye flashes
upon them, and with an instinctive knowledge of their errand, he
seizes a broad axe, salutes them, and, defiantly, cautions their
advance. Grabguy heeds not; and as the aggrieved man slowly retreats
backward to protect himself with the wall, still keeping his eye set
on Grabguy, two negroes make a sudden spring upon him from behind,
fetter his arms as the officers rush forward, bind him hand and
foot, and drag him to the door, regardless of his cries for mercy:
they bind him to a dray, and drive through the streets to the slave
pen of Graspum. We hear his pleading voice, as his ruffian captors,
their prey secure, disappear among the busy crowd.