Uncle Tom's Cabin
George F. Rowe, for Messrs. Jarrett & Palmer
Printed for Private Circulation Only, 1878



Jackson seen through the arcade of pillars. Negro pen with door square at back. A busy scene. Venders offering their wares and fruit. Placards on the columns.

  VEN. Water melons!

  WAY. Ban-annas!

  ANOTHER. O-ranges! Sweet oranges!

(Enter Marks.)

  MARKS. Well, cut me up into law cap, and rule me, but this is hard, sale day, and not a single commission. (Reads.) "Estate of Jeremiah Crook, 14 field hands. By order of Madame Marie St. Clair, household servants, the property of her late husband. Wednesday, 4th of June." That's to-day. Augustine St. Clair, who was stabbed at the St. Charles by my old friend Simon Legree three weeks ago, and the widow's selling off the property. She aint losing any time. If something don't turn up soon, I shall have to put myself up to auction.

(Marks disappears through the arches as Haley enters with Emmeline and her mother chained together.)

  HAL. Now, let's have no whimpering—humanity's my motto—and them as does well by me, I does well by them.

  EM. But you won't let them part mother and me, Mas'r?

  HAL. I'll do my best; only smile and look pleasant. Hello! Whar's all your nice curls gone to?

  EM. Mother told me to brush them out; it looks more 'spectable, Mas'r.

  HAL. That be darned! Them curls 'll bring another hundred dollars! Aunty, take her into the caboose, and curl her up. Skeggs! (A man appears at the door of the negro pen.) Lock up this pair o' gals till the sale begins.

(Re-enter Marks.)

  HAL. Marks, by jingo!

  MARKS. Haley!

  HAL. What's up?

  MARKS. Nothing. Everything's down, Mr. Haley—down, derry down.

  HAL. How's the law?

  MARKS. Languishing. I'm afraid the world's getting honest.

  HAL. Glad on it; for I'm thinking o' turning over a new leaf myself.


  MARKS. Oh, Mr. Haley, don't, that would be dreadful. I shouldn't have a friend left in the world.

  HAL. Where's Simon Legree, then?

  MARKS. I ain't seen him since that little affair of the stabbing of St. Clair—at the St. Charles Hotel.

  HAL. What's that?

  MARKS. Haven't you heard?

  HAL. No—

  MARKS. Why three weeks ago—Simon went into the St. Charles, drunk—pushed past a party of gentlemen at the bar—words led to blows—and St. Clair fell with a knife in his heart.

  HAL. And did Simon strike him?

  MARKS. Well, that's a little secret the Judge can't get hold on; but if the family offer a reward, I'm afeerd I shall be obliged to give my evidence in the interests of the law, Mr. Haley.

(Music. Legree appears with Cassy, from the negro pen at back.)

  LEG. Look yar, Cassy! I'll just give you one hour, for I shall get aboard as soon as this sale's over.

  CAS. One hour is all I want.

(Exit Cassy as Legree advances.)

  MARKS. There is Simon. I'll jest step aside. (Marks hides behind Column.)

  HAL. Hello, Simon!

  LEG. Hello, Haley! Aint seen you in twelve months.

  HAL. Ditto, Mr. Legree.

  LEG. Thar's a little quadroon in that pen I've took a mighty fancy to. Do you know whose lot she b'longs to?

  HAL. Mine, Mr. Legree.

  LEG. What 'll ye take for her? I want a housekeeper bad.

  HAL. Ha, ha, aint you got one?

  LEG. Wall, yes, but I'm tired of her. Cass's temper is all fired tough, and she scares me, Haley. I shall buy something young to put over her, and while I am buying, I'd better buy something handsome too.

(Marks advances.)

  HAL. That's your sort, then. (He retires to pen.)

  MARKS. Oh, Mr. Legree!

  LEG. Marks!

  MARKS. Oh, Simon, I wonder you aint afeard to hang around the streets! Don't you know they've offered a reward for proof of the murder?

  LEG. What murder?

  MARKS. Oh!—he, he, he! You don't know!—of course not—oh no!

  LEG. It was a fair fight. He took the chances; and he got a knife into him. That's all.


  MARKS. And I know whose knife it was, Mr. Legree! But I shan't tell though. I wish you'd lend me fifty dollars; I'm desperate hard up, Mr. Legree.

  LEG. So you want to blackmail me, do ye, Marks? But look ye! I don't stand one cent!

  MARKS. You really are running a great risk for fifty dollars, Mr. Legree; you are indeed!

  LEG. Wall, then, I'll run it. I'm here to buy some of St. Clair's hands; and when I've bought 'em, I'll take 'em aboard, for my plantation up river, spite o' you and all the informers in Louisiana. So do your darndest, Marks!

  MARKS. Pleasant journey to you, Mr. Legree! (Exit Marks.)

(Music. The pen is opened. The negros file out, singing "Massa's gwine to sell us." Uncle Tom, Adolph, Emmeline and other slaves, drivers, purchasers. Enter Auctioneer; takes his place on the stand.)

  LEG. (To Adolph.) You're a sweet scented cuss; a nigger with polished boots. (Spits. To Tom.) Where was you raised?

  TOM. Kintuck, Massa.

  LEG. One of St. Clair's boys, eh?

  TOM. Yes, massa. Bress him!

  1st GENT. Who is that ruffian?

  2nd GENT. Thank my stars, don't know! (Bell rings. Auctioneer raps and calls attention.)

  AUC. Now gentlemen, I am commissioned to offer to-day, a splendid lot of household servants and field hands, the property of the late Mr. St. Clair and others. The unfortunate gentleman was too well known for me to dilate upon the excellence of his slaves.

  LEG. (Interrupting.) Then git on with the sale, Major, time's short.

  AUC. 'Twill be long enough to buy all you want, Mr. —— Mr. ——?

  LEG. Legree. Simon Legree, of Red River.

(Legree sits immediately under the auctioneer. Purchasers whisper.)

  AUC. Well, Mr. Legree, whatever's considered good manners on Red River aint the mode in New Orleans, Mr. Legree.

  LEG. Ha, ha, ha! Go ahead, Squire, you can't riz my dander.

  AUC. The first lot is Cleopatra, first-class fancy cook, and her two children, Mark Anthony and Julius Caesar.

  SWELL. Can't you split the lot, Colonel?

  AUC. It was the owner's wish they should not be parted.

  SWELL. But I'm a bachelor, and I only want the cook.

  AUC. Then buy the lot, sir, and then you'll be a family man. (Laughter.)

  SWELL. Thank you, Colonel, they aint my color. I'll give five hundred dollars for the girl.


  AUC. Five hundred for the girl, is there no offer for the lot? Five hundred! Five hundred! If there is no other bid I must sell 'em separate.

  SLAVE. Oh genl'man, buy de chil'n, splendid chil'n, fine speck'lation, when dey is grow'd up.

  OLD GENT. Well, sooner than break up the family, I'll go another fifty.

  SWELL. Then you may have 'em, sir.

  AUC. Going for five fifty. Is there any other advance? Sir, your sentiments are an honor to humanity, and Cleopatra and the two noble young Romans are yours, for five hundred and fifty dollars.

  OLD GENT. I suppose they'll eat my head off, but it can't be helped now.

  AUC. Step up thar, my boy, (to Tom) now here's a valuable article, (Tom gets on the stand,) coachman in the late Mr. St. Clair's family, and a trusted servant in many capacities.

  VORIE. Five hundred for him.

  2nd. Six—

  LEG. Seven—

  1 V. Nine—

  2nd. Fifty—

  LEG. Ten—

  AUC. Ten hundred bid; he's cheap at fifteen; shall I have any more?

  1 V. Eleven—

  LEG. Twelve—

  AUC. Twelve hundred, second, third and last time, twelve hundred. I shall knock him down, yours, Mr. ——?

  LEG. Legree.

  AUC. Of Red River; I beg your pardon.

  LEG. I forgive you, Colonel. Come here, you Tom, you're knocked down to me, understand that, or I'll knock you down again myself!

  1 V. The fellow's a ruffian!

  2nd. A blackguard!

  3rd. A national disgrace!

  LEG. (Suddenly threatening.) How's that?

  AUC. (Rapping.) Now, gentlemen, the next lot is exceedingly choice. Emmeline, a quadroon, rising 16 years. Any one requiring a lady's maid or a seamstress will get a treasure in this girl.

  LEG. One thousand dollars!

  1ST GENT. Eleven hundred!

  LEG. Twelve!

  2ND GENT. Thirteen!

  1ST GENT. Fourteen!

  2ND GENT. And fifty!

  LEG. Fifteen hundred dollars!

  AUC. Fifteen hundred bid! Is there any advance? The gal's a bargain at two thousand. Fifteen hundred! Will you give me any more? Going at fifteen! Going! Gone! Mr. ——?


  LEG. Legree.

  AUC. Of Red River; I beg your pardon.

  LEG. I forgive you again. And thar's your money. (Hands up a roll of notes.) Now come! I've got all I want.

(He seizes Emmeline, and takes out shackles to chain them together. Music.)

(Re-enter Marks.)

  MARKS. Excuse me, Simon; but cast your eye over this.

  LEG. What is it?

  MARKS. A copy of my affidavit in the St. Clair case, accusing you of the murder—

  LEG. Then, this is how I treat it. (Tears up the paper) And that's how I treat you! (Knocks Marks down.)

  MARKS. Arrest him! Arrest him!

  LEG. Try it? Stand off, all of ye!

(He flings Tom and Emmeline into one corner, and drawing a revolver covers their retreat and his own.)



(Cabin door in flat.)

(Enter Emmeline, pale. Music.

  EM. Is there no way of escape? None, but to leap into the swift, muddy river. Better that than the life before me, is it not? Oh, my mother, for they have parted us, and I shall never look into your fond face again? If there is a heaven to hear a slave girl's prayer, save me, oh save me, from a shameful fate.

(She kneels, as Legree enters from the cabin door, yawning.

  LEG. Hallo! my little colored Venus, what are you up to?

  EM. (Rising hastily) Nothing, Massa, I——

  LEG. No nigger tricks, you know! I've given you the run o' the boat because the irons would spile them little wrists of yours.

  EM. (Withdrawing from his grasp.) Oh, massa——

  LEG. No virtuous airs with me, minx! You're mine; I paid a big price for your good looks, and I'll have no crying to spile 'em.

  EM. I never left my mother's side before, Massa, and——

  LEG. Never had no sweetheart, eh?

  EM. What, Massa?


  LEG. What! I do believe she speaks the truth! All right, you look chipper, and I'll make a queen of you. You shall tend the house, dress yourself right smart, and keep me company.

  EM. Oh, Mas'r, I'd rather pick cotton in the fields, if Mas'r will let me.

(Enter Cassy, listening.

  LEG. Ah, you're too high toned to hitch up along 'o me, p'rhaps; now look here, on my plantation, my word's law. I've bought ye for your pretty face, so if you're sensible, you'll make the most of it. Cassy!

  CAS. And is this the girl, Simon Legree, you've bought, to take my place—this child?

  LEG. Yes; you've had your way up on Red River too long, so keep a civil tongue, Cassy, or out you go to work along o' the field hands.

  CAS. You can threaten, Simon, but you're too great a coward to do.

  LEG. I aint afeard o' you, Cass.

  CAS. No, but I watched you last night in your sleep and I saw the sweat stand out in big drops. Did you see the spirit of the man you murdered? (Whispering)

  LEG. Hold your darn'd tongue, it was a free fight, and——

  CAS. And your own mother, when you struck her——

  LEG. Shut up—or—— (violently raising his fist)

  CAS. Or you'll strike me. Beware of the day, Simon, when the devil with death in his fist shall strike you down, never to rise again, except in——

  LEG. D—n you, shut up! Take that girl into my cabin—it's mine for the trip—I paid for it, as I paid for both of you. Take her in, and for a punishment you shall wait on her; I'll make you recollect whose property you are. (He turns to go.) Bartender, give me a smash!

(Exit Legree, R.

  EM. (Terrified.) Oh, Misse, have pity on me!

  CAS. I have. I have, as much as one slave may show another. Who was that with you in the slave pen?

  EM. My mother, Misse, my own mother. I prayed them not to separate us, but they did, and we shall never see each other again.

  CAS. Never! never! I had a girl once, my beautiful Eliza; when my master died (he was a gentleman, and I they called the handsomest quadroon in New-Orleans then), they sold my Eliza. How old are you?

  EM. Just sixteen.

  CAS. Ah! my little Eliza would be older, much older, if she lives. Her father promised to marry me, but men down here are devils; they pretend to love us for a little, and while the fancy lasts they are kind; when they're tired they turn us over to a friend, or sell us in the market, taking money for us, and for their own flesh and blood! There is no God for colored people! (Gloomily)


  EM. Oh, yes; mother told me to pray to Him, and that He would hear. If I had not that comfort, I would jump into the river here.

  CAS. And better, too, perhaps, than go where we are going. I tell you that his place on the Red River is a hell.

  EM. Heaven help us, then!

  CAS. You don't like this man, eh?

  EM. Like him? I shudder at his touch!

  CAS. And I hate him. But where I've ruled so long, I would be mistress still. I will protect you.

  EM. Don't leave me, then. Let us go in here and pray together.

  CAS. Pray! Are our prayers ever answered?

  EM. Oh, yes! Pray that you may see your child some day.

  CAS. See her! Will you ever see your mother's face again?

  EM. (Bursting into tears.) Never! Oh, never!

  CAS. Nor I my little Eliza's. But come. We know each other's sorrows, and we must comfort one another.

(Exeunt into cabin.

(Music. Ophelia enters, R., dressed in traveling guise.

  OPHE. If I ever git back to Vermont—sakes alive! but I shall plant myself thar, and take root! Whar's my work bag, and whar's my new bonnet box? I've lost track of both of 'em. Sakes alive! I vow I'm getting as shiftless as the other critters in this shiftless country. Topsy! Topsy!

(Enter Topsy, dressed extravagantly. With a bandbox.

  TOP. Here I is, Missis.

  OPHE. How dare you call me Missis!

  TOP. I didn't, Missis.

  OPHE. There again! Call me Miss Ophelia! Don't you know that you are a free girl, that you are—emancipated—and that you have now a personal responsibility?

  TOP. Golly! yar frightens me wid dem long words! Ise free, Miss Feely, but if yar don't hold on to me I'se a lost nigger, shuah.

  OPHE. But understand, Topsy, although I've rescued you from the Philistines, you must do your duty.

  TOP. Dat's so, Miss Feely, I ain't a Philistine no more. Don't steal now, only candies, and sich.

  OPHE. But you mustn't steal at all, or you must be whipped.

  TOP. Thought you said nobody mustn't whip dis chile no more.

  OPHE. No one has the right, except to correct you for your own good.

  TOP. Dat's good! I'se glad ob dat! cos a good licking now and den 'll put me in mind of ole times.

  OPHE. Now, where did you put my new bonnet?


  TOP. Your new bonnet, Miss Feely?

  OPHE. Yes, my new bonnet!

  TOP. Well, dat's curis; 'tain't in de box?

  OPHE. (Looking.) No.

  TOP. He! he! he! Well, dat's curis! 'Twas in de box.

  OPHE. (Suddenly seeing.) Why you shiftless hussy, it's on your head!

  TOP. Is it? Golly! I forgot! He! he! he! How does it look, Miss Feely, bully, eh? (She struts around stage.)

  OPHE. (Chasing Topsy about with umbrella.) You shiftless critter! to spoil my lovely new bonnet with your greasy wool!

  TOP. (Striking attitude) Don't yar touch me! Ise free! Ise mancipated! Take car, how you bust de law, or I'll show you my 'sponsibility!

  OPHE. My own pupil rebels! Catch me, some one!

(Legree enters and she falls into his arms.

  LEG. Hello! old teapot, what's the matter?

  OPHE. (Recovering suddenly) Sakes alive! Who air you?

  TOPSY. (Suddenly interposing.) Stand 'way from dis lady! Ise a mancipated brack individual! and if you touches Miss Feely I'll knock you down with my 'sponsibility and dis umbrella!

  LEG. Git out, you nigger!

  OPHE. How dare you call my child a nigger, man!

  LEG. What! Is that box of blacking your'n, Missis!

  OPHE. Yes; my adopted child.

  LEG. Will you trade for her?

  OPHE. What, wretch! Me trade in human flesh?

  LEG. Yes; cos if you will, I'll give ye ten cents a pound for her, to cut up for my dogs. (Exit Legree.)

  OPHE. Sakes alive! Let me get out o' this awful country, or I shall die!

  TOP. Hold up, Miss Feely! hold up! I'll protect you.

(Music. Enter Uncle Tom—chains on ankles.

  TOM. Miss Feely!—aboard dis here boat?

  OPHE. Uncle Tom! Sakes alive! What air you doing here?

  TOM. I is sold, Miss Feely—sold to a Mr. Legree, o' Red River, and Ise gwine up dar, wid de oder slaves.

  OPHE. The Lord forgive me! but a curse will fall on Marie St. Clair for scorning her dead husband's wishes. My poor Uncle Tom!

  TOM. Yes, I got no hope o' freedom now, Miss Feely. But you—you is going up by my old home in Kintuck; and if you'll write for me to Mrs. Shelby and de folks dar, and tell 'em whar I am, p'raps dey'll send down and buy me off. Dar's de directions, Miss Feely. (Gives her a paper.)

  OPHE. I'll do it, Uncle Tom. Oh that I had the money to free every slave in the land!


  TOM. De Lord will send us liberty in his good time, Miss Feely—if not dis side de grave, yet de great liberator, Death, will set us free; and den dar's heaven for black and white alike. Good bless yar, Miss Feely! Good-bye! (Exit.)

  OPHE. (Crying.) Good-bye, good Uncle Tom!

  TOP. (Howling.) G-ood-bye, U-un-cle T-T-om!

(She sits down on bonnet box.

  OPHE. Sakes alive! Shiftless to the last! Ah, my new bonnet box! (Screams.)

  TOP. Smashed him! Smashed him into a squash, by golly!

(Comic chase round and exeunt.


  A Plantation on the Mississippi.—Cotton Plants, &c.—The River and Levee.—Landing, &c., in the Distance.—Sambo and Quimbo, and a crowd of Negroes discovered.—Chorus.

  SAM. (Advancing among the crowd. See hyar niggers, de Mas'r gwine to get back to-night, so you may all knock off work and enjoy yourselves.

  QUIM. And de nigger dat don't enjoy himself I'll make him dance and sing wid dis hyar.

(Cracks whip.