_Scene 1._—SITTING-ROOM.
_MRS. GAINES, seated in an arm chair, reading a letter._
_Enter HANNAH, L._
_Mrs. Gaines._ You need not tell me, Hannah, that you don’t want another
husband, I know better. Your master has sold Sam, and he’s gone down
the river, and you’ll never see him again. So, go and put on your
calico dress, and meet me in the kitchen. I intend for you to _jump the
broomstick_ with Cato. You need not tell me that you don’t want another
man. I know that there’s no woman living that can be happy and satisfied
without a husband.
_Hannah._ Oh, missis, I don’t want to jump de broomstick wid Cato. I
don’t love Cato; I can’t love him.
_Mrs. G._ Shut up, this moment! What do you know about love? I didn’t
love your master when I married him, and people don’t marry for love now.
So go and put on your calico dress, and meet me in the kitchen.
[_Exit HANNAH, L._
I am glad that the Colonel has sold Sam; now I’ll make Hannah marry
Cato, and I have them both here under my eye. And I am also glad that
the Colonel has parted with Melinda. Still, I’m afraid that he is trying
to deceive me. He took the hussy away yesterday, and says he sold her
to a trader; but I don’t believe it. At any rate, if she’s in the
neighborhood, I’ll find her, that I will. No man ever fools me.
[_Exit MRS. GAINES, L._
_Scene 2._—THE KITCHEN—SLAVES AT WORK.
_Enter HANNAH, R._
_Hannah._ Oh, Cato, do go and tell missis dat you don’t want to jump de
broomstick wid me,—dat’s a good man! Do, Cato; kase I nebber can love
you. It was only las week dat massa sold my Sammy, and I don’t want any
udder man. Do go tell missis dat you don’t want me.
_Cato._ No, Hannah, I ain’t a gwine to tell missis no such thing, kase I
dose want you, and I ain’t a-gwine to tell a lie for you ner nobody else.
Dar, now you’s got it! I don’t see why you need to make so much fuss. I
is better lookin’ den Sam; an’ I is a house servant, an’ Sam was only a
fiel hand; so you ought to feel proud of a change. So go and do as missis
tells you.
[_Exit HANNAH, L._
Hannah needn’t try to get me to tell a lie; I ain’t a-gwine to do it,
kase I dose want her, an’ I is bin wantin’ her dis long time, an’ soon
as massa sold Sam, I knowed I would get her. By golly, I is gwine to be
a married man. Won’t I be happy! Now, ef I could only jess run away from
ole massa, an’ get to Canada wid Hannah, den I’d show ’em who I was. Ah!
dat reminds me of my song ’bout ole massa and Canada, an’ I’ll sing it
fer yer. Dis is my moriginal hyme. It comed into my head one night when
I was fass asleep under an apple tree, looking up at de moon. Now for my
song:—
AIR—“_Dandy Jim._”
Come all ye bondmen far and near,
Let’s put a song in massa’s ear,
It is a song for our poor race,
Who’re whipped and trampled with disgrace.
CHORUS.
My old massa tells me, Oh,
This is a land of freedom, Oh;
Let’s look about and see if it’s so,
Just as massa tells me, Oh.
He tells us of that glorious one,
I think his name was Washington,
How he did fight for liberty,
To save a threepence tax on tea. [_Chorus._]
But now we look about and see
That we poor blacks are not so free;
We’re whipped and thrashed about like fools,
And have no chance at common schools. [_Chorus._]
They take our wives, insult and mock,
And sell our children on the block,
They choke us if we say a word,
And say that “niggers” shan’t be heard. [_Chorus._]
Our preachers, too, with whip and cord,
Command obedience in the Lord;
They say they learn it from the big book,
But for ourselves, we dare not look. [_Chorus._]
There is a country far away,
I think they call it Canada,
And if we reach Victoria’s shore,
They say that we are slaves no more.
Now haste, all bondmen, let us go,
And leave this _Christian_ country, Oh;
Haste to the land of the British Queen,
Where whips for negroes are not seen.
Now, if we go, we must take the night,
And never let them come in sight;
The bloodhounds will be on our track,
And wo to us if they fetch us back.
Now haste all bondmen, let us go,
And leave this _Christian_ country, Oh;
God help us to Victoria’s shore,
Where we are free and slaves no more!
_Enter MRS. GAINES, L._
_Mrs. Gaines._ Ah! Cato, you’re ready, are you? Where is Hannah?
_Cato._ Yes, missis; I is bin waitin’ dis long time. Hannah has bin here
tryin’ to swade me to tell you dat I don’t want her; but I telled her dat
you sed I must jump de broomstick wid her, an’ I is gwine to mind you.
_Mrs. G._ That’s right, Cato; servants should always mind their masters
and mistresses, without asking a question.
_Cato._ Yes, missis, I allers dose what you and massa tells me, an’ axes
nobody.
_Enter HANNAH, R._
_Mrs. Gaines._ Ah! Hannah; come, we are waiting for you. Nothing can be
done till you come.
_Hannah._ Oh, missis, I don’t want to jump de broomstick wid Cato; I
can’t love him.
_Mrs. G._ Shut up, this moment. Dolly, get the broom. Susan, you take
hold of the other end. There, now hold it a little lower—there, a little
higher. There, now, that’ll do. Now Hannah, take hold of Cato’s hand. Let
Cato take hold of your hand.
_Hannah._ Oh, missis, do spare me. I don’t want to jump de broomstick wid
Cato.
_Mrs. G._ Get the cowhide, and follow me to the cellar, and I’ll whip you
well. I’ll let you know how to disobey my orders. Get the cowhide, and
follow me to the cellar.
[_Exit MRS. GAINES and HANNAH, R._
_Dolly._ Oh, Cato, do go an’ tell missis dat you don’t want Hannah. Don’t
you hear how she’s whippin’ her in de cellar? Do go an’ tell missis dat
you don’t want Hannah, and den she’ll stop whippin’ her.
_Cato._ No, Dolly, I ain’t a-gwine to do no such a thing, kase ef I tell
missis dat I don’t want Hannah, den missis will whip me; an’ I ain’t
a-gwine to be whipped fer you, ner Hannah, ner nobody else. No, I’ll jump
de broomstick wid every woman on de place, ef missis wants me to, before
I’ll be whipped.
_Dolly._ Cato, ef I was in Hannah’s place, I’d see you in de bottomless
pit before I’d live wid you, you great big wall-eyed, empty-headed,
knock-kneed fool. You’re as mean as your devilish old missis.
_Cato._ Ef you don’t quit dat busin’ me, Dolly, I’ll tell missis as soon
as she comes in, an’ she’ll whip you, you know she will.
_Enter MRS. GAINES and HANNAH, R._
[_MRS. G. fans herself with her handkerchief, and appears
fatigued._]
_Mrs. G._ You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Hannah, to make me fatigue
myself in this way, to make you do your duty. It’s very naughty in you,
Hannah. Now, Dolly, you and Susan get the broom, and get out in the
middle of the room. There, hold it a little lower—a little higher; there,
that’ll do. Now, remember that this is a solemn occasion; you are going
to jump into matrimony. Now, Cato, take hold of Hannah’s hand. There,
now, why couldn’t you let Cato take hold of your hand before? Now get
ready, and when I count three, do you jump. Eyes on the _broomstick_! All
ready. One, two, three, and over you go. There, now you’re husband and
wife, and if you don’t live happy together, it’s your own fault; for I am
sure there’s nothing to hinder it. Now, Hannah, come up to the house, and
I’ll give you some whiskey, and you can make some apple toddy, and you
and Cato can have a fine time.
[_Exit MRS. GAINES and HANNAH, L._
_Dolly._ I tell you what, Susan, when I get married, I is gwine to have a
preacher to marry me. I ain’t a-gwine to jump de broomstick. Dat will do
for fiel’ hands, but house servants ought to be ’bove dat.
_Susan._ Well, chile, you can’t speck any ting else from ole missis. She
come from down in Carlina, from ’mong de poor white trash. She don’t know
any better. You can’t speck nothin’ more dan a jump from a frog. Missis
says she is one of de akastocacy; but she ain’t no more of an akastocacy
dan I is. Missis says she was born wid a silver spoon in her mouf; ef she
was, I wish it had a-choked her, dat’s what I wish. Missis wanted to make
Linda jump de broomstick wid Glen, but massa ain’t a-gwine to let Linda
jump de broomstick wid anybody. He’s gwine to keep Linda fer heself.
_Dolly._ You know massa took Linda ’way las’ night, an’ tell missis dat
he has sold her and sent her down de river; but I don’t b’lieve he has
sold her at all. He went ober towards de poplar farm, an’ I tink Linda is
ober dar now. Ef she is dar, missis’ll find it out, fer she tell’d massa
las’ night, dat ef Linda was in de neighborhood, she’d find her.
[_Exit DOLLY and SUSAN._
_Scene 3._—SITTING-ROOM—CHAIRS AND TABLE.
_Enter HANNAH, R._
_Hannah._ I don’t keer what missis says; I don’t like Cato, an’ I won’t
live wid him. I always love my Sammy, an’ I loves him now.
[_Knock at the door—goes to the door._
_Enter MAJ. MOORE, M. D._
Walk in, sir; take a seat. I’ll call missis, sir; massa is gone away.
[_Exit HANNAH, R._
_Maj. Moore._ So I am here at last, and the Colonel is not at home. I
hope his wife is a good-looking woman. I rather like fine-looking women,
especially when their husbands are from home. Well, I’ve studied human
nature to some purpose. If you wish to get the good will of a man, don’t
praise his wife, and if you wish to gain the favor of a woman, praise her
children, and swear that they are the picture of their father, whether
they are or not. Ah! here comes the lady.
_Enter MRS. GAINES, R._
_Mrs. G._ Good morning, sir!
_Maj. M._ Good morning, madam! I am Maj. Moore, of Jefferson. The Colonel
and I had seats near each other in the last Legislature.
_Mrs. G._ Be seated, sir. I think I’ve heard the Colonel speak of you.
He’s away, now; but I expect him every moment. You’re a stranger here, I
presume?
_Maj. M._ Yes, madam, I am. I rather like the Colonel’s situation here.
_Mrs. G._ It is thought to be a fine location.
_Enter SAMPEY, R._
Hand me my fan, will you, Sampey?
[_Sampey gets the fan and passes near the Major, who mistakes
the boy for the Colonel’s son. He reaches out his hand._
_Maj. M._ How do you do, bub? Madam, I should have known that this was
the Colonel’s son, if I had met him in California; for he looks so much
like his papa.
_Mrs. G._ [_To the boy._] Get out of here this minute. Go to the kitchen.
[_Exit SAMPEY, R._
That is one of the niggers, sir.
_Maj. M._ I beg your pardon, madam; I beg your pardon.
_Mrs. G._ No offence, sir; mistakes will be made. Ah! here comes the
Colonel.
_Enter DR. GAINES, M. D._
_Dr. Gaines._ Bless my soul, how are you, Major? I’m exceedingly pleased
to see you. Be seated, be seated, Major.
_Mrs. G._ Please excuse me, gentlemen; I must go and look after dinner,
for I’ve no doubt that the Major will have an appetite for dinner, by the
time it is ready.
[_Exit MRS. GAINES, R._
_Maj. M._ Colonel, I’m afraid I’ve played the devil here to-day.
_Dr. G._ Why, what have you done?
_Maj. M._ You see, Colonel, I always make it a point, wherever I go, to
praise the children, if there are any, and so to-day, seeing one of your
little servants come in, and taking him to be your son, I spoke to your
wife of the marked resemblance between you and the boy. I am afraid I’ve
insulted madam.
_Dr. G._ Oh! don’t let that trouble you. Ha, ha, ha. If you did call him
my son, you didn’t miss it much. Ha, ha, ha. Come, we’ll take a walk, and
talk over matters about old times.
[_Exit, L._
_Scene 4._—FOREST SCENERY.
_Enter GLEN, L._
_Glen._ Oh, how I want to see Melinda! My heart pants and my soul is
moved whenever I hear her voice. Human tongue cannot tell how my heart
yearns toward her. Oh, God! thou who gavest me life, and implanted in
my bosom the love of liberty, and gave me a heart to love, Oh, pity the
poor outraged slave! Thou, who canst rend the veil of centuries, speak,
Oh, speak, and put a stop to this persecution! What is death, compared
to slavery? Oh, heavy curse, to have thoughts, reason, taste, judgment,
conscience and passions like another man, and not have equal liberty to
use them! Why was I born with a wish to be free, and still be a slave?
Why should I call another man master? And my poor Melinda, she is taken
away from me, and I dare not ask the tyrant where she is. It is childish
to stand here weeping. Why should my eyes be filled with tears, when my
brain is on fire? I will find my wife—I will; and wo to him who shall try
to keep me from her!
_Scene 5._—ROOM IN A SMALL COTTAGE ON THE POPLAR FARM.
(_Ten miles from Muddy Creek, and owned by Dr. Gaines._)
_Enter MELINDA, R._
_Melinda._ Here I am, watched, and kept a prisoner in this place. Oh,
I would that I could escape, and once more get with Glen. Poor Glen!
He does not know where I am. Master took the opportunity, when Glen was
in the city with his master, to bring me here to this lonely place, and
fearing that mistress would know where I was, he brought me here at
night. Oh, how I wish I could rush into the arms of sleep!—that sweet
sleep, which visits all alike, descending, like the dews of heaven, upon
the bond as well as the free. It would drive from my troubled brain the
agonies of this terrible night.
_Enter DR. GAINES, L._
_Dr. Gaines._ Good evening, Melinda! Are you not glad to see me?
_Melinda._ Sir, how can I be glad to see one who has made life a burden,
and turned my sweetest moments into bitterness?
_Dr. G._ Come, Melinda, no more reproaches! You know that I love you, and
I have told you, and I tell you again, that if you will give up all idea
of having Glen for a husband, I will set you free, let you live in this
cottage, and be your own mistress, and I’ll dress you like a lady. Come,
now, be reasonable!
_Melinda._ Sir, I am your slave; you can do as you please with the avails
of my labor, but you shall never tempt me to swerve from the path of
virtue.
_Dr. G._ Now, Melinda, that black scoundrel Glen has been putting these
notions into your head. I’ll let you know that you are my property, and
I’ll do as I please with you. I’ll teach you that there is no limit to my
power.
_Melinda._ Sir, let me warn you that if you compass my ruin, a woman’s
bitterest curse will be laid upon your head, with all the crushing,
withering weight that my soul can impart to it; a curse that shall cling
to you throughout the remainder of your wretched life; a curse that shall
haunt you like a spectre in your dreams by night, and attend upon you by
day; a curse, too, that shall embody itself in the ghastly form of the
woman whose chastity you will have outraged. Command me to bury myself
in yonder stream, and I will obey you. Bid me do any thing else, but I
beseech you not to commit a double crime,—outrage a woman, and make her
false to her husband.
_Dr. G._ You got a husband! Who is your husband, and when were you
married?
_Melinda._ Glen is my husband, and I’ve been married four weeks. Old
Uncle Joseph married us one night by moonlight. I see you are angry; I
pray you not to injure my husband.
_Dr. G._ Melinda, you shall never see Glen again. I have bought him from
Hamilton, and I will return to Muddy Creek, and roast him at the stake.
A black villain, to get into my way in that manner! Here I’ve come ten
miles to-night to see you, and this is the way you receive me!
_Melinda._ Oh, master, I beg you not to injure my husband! Kill me, but
spare him! Do! do! he is my husband!
_Dr. G._ You shall never see that black imp again, so good night, my
lady! When I come again, you’ll give me a more cordial reception. Good
night!
[_Exit DR. GAINES, L._
_Melinda._ I shall go distracted. I cannot remain here and know that Glen
is being tortured on my account. I must escape from this place,—I must,—I
must!
_Enter CATO, R._
_Cato._ No, you ain’t a-gwine to ’scape, nudder. Massa tells me to keep
dese eyes on you, an’ I is gwine to do it.
_Melinda._ Oh, Cato, do let me get away! I beg you, do!
_Cato._ No; I tells you massa telled me to keep you safe; an’ ef I let
you go, massa will whip me.
[_Exit CATO, L._
_Enter MRS. GAINES, R._
_Mrs. G._ Ah, you trollop! here you are! Your master told me that he had
sold you and sent you down the river, but I knew better; I knew it was
a lie. And when he left home this evening, he said he was going to the
city on business, and I knew that was a lie too, and determined to follow
him, and see what he was up to. I rode all the way over here to-night. My
side-saddle was lent out, and I had to ride ten miles bare-back, and I
can scarcely walk; and your master has just left here. Now deny that, if
you dare.
_Melinda._ Madam, I will deny nothing which is true. Your husband has
just gone from here, but God knows that I am innocent of any thing wrong
with him.
_Mrs. G._ It’s a lie! I know better. If you are innocent, what are you
doing here, cooped up in this cottage by yourself? Tell me that!
_Melinda._ God knows that I was brought here against my will, and I beg
that you will take me away.
_Mrs. G._ Yes, Melinda, I will see that you are taken away, but it shall
be after a fashion that you won’t like. I know that your master loves
you, and I intend to put a stop to it. Here, drink the contents of this
vial,—drink it!
_Melinda._ Oh, you will not take my life,—you will not!
_Mrs. G._ Drink the poison this moment!
_Melinda._ I cannot drink it.
_Mrs. G._ I tell you to drink this poison at once. Drink it, or I will
thrust this knife to your heart! The poison or the dagger, this instant!
[_She draws a dagger; Melinda retreats to the back of the room,
and seizes a broom._
_Melinda._ I will not drink the poison!
[_They fight; MELINDA sweeps off MRS. GAINES,—cap, combs and
curls. Curtain falls._