University of Virginia Library

5. Topsy's Arrival
By HARRIET BEECHER STOWE (1852)

ONE morning, while Miss Ophelia was busy in some of her domestic cares, St. Clare's voice was heard, calling her at the foot of the stairs.

Come down here, cousin; I've something to show you.

"What is it?"said Miss Ophelia, coming down, with her sewing in her hand.

"I've made a purchase for your department,—see here,"said St. Clare; and, with the word, he pulled along a little negro girl, about eight or nine years of age.

She was one of the blackest of her race; and her round, shining eyes, glittering as glass beads, moved with quick and restless glances over everything in the room. Her mouth, half open with astonishment at the wonders of the new Mas'r's parlor, displayed a white and brilliant set of teeth. Her woolly hair was braided in sundry little tails, which stuck out in every direction. The expression of her face was an odd mixture of shrewdness 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 garment, made of bagging; and stood with her hands demurely folded before her. Altogether, there was something odd and goblin-like about her appearance,— something, as Miss Ophelia afterwards said, "so heathenish,"as to inspire that good 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 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 a song, now, and show its 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 odd 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 odd gutteral sounds which distinguish the native music of her race ; and finally, turning a somerset or two, and giving a prolonged closing note, as odd and unearthly as that of a steam-whistle , she 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 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 astonishment; and, addressing the child again, said,—

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

"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.

"Oh, 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,—didn't I tell you? You're 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."

"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 downstairs, and make some of them clean and clothe her up."

Miss Ophelia carried her to the kitchen regions.

When arrayed at last in a suit of decent 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 instruction,

Sitting down before her, she began to question her.

"How old are you, Topsy?"

"Dunno, 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, that looked so goblin-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 business-like, and she said, with some sternness,

"You mustn'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."

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

"Dunno, Missis."

"Is it a year, or more, or less ?

"Dunno, Missis."

"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.

The idea appeared to amuse her considerably; for her eyes twinkled, and she added,—

"I spect I grow'd. Don't think nobody never made me."

"Do you know how to sew? "said Miss 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?"

"Spect 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.

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