Clotel by William Wells Brown (best ebook for manga .txt) 📕
Description
The first published novel by a black American author combines real-life stories, including his own story of escaping slavery and recollections he heard while helping others escape, with abolitionist agitprop, revealing ephemera from the newspapers of the time, and sympathetic (if somewhat melodramatic) characters. What emerges from this collage is an indictment of slavery and of American hypocrisy about liberty that found an enthusiastic and enraged audience when it was published in 1853.
Clotel has a complex publishing history, with four separate editions published between 1853 and 1867. These editions contain huge differences in characters and plotting, so much so that they might each be considered separate novels in their own right. This edition is based on the first edition of 1853.
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- Author: William Wells Brown
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Though a prettier, I guess, cannot be found within the nation;
When he gets a little bigger, I’ll take and to him show it,
And then I’ll say, “My little nig, now just prepare to go it!”
I’ll put a hoe into his hand—he’ll soon know what it means,
And every day for dinner, he shall have bacon and greens. XII A Night in the Parson’s Kitchen
And see the servants met,
Their daily labour’s o’er;
And with the jest and song they set
The kitchen in a roar.
Mr. Peck kept around him four servants besides Currer, of whom we have made mention: of these, Sam was considered the first. If a dinner-party was in contemplation, or any company to be invited to the parson’s, after all the arrangements had been talked over by the minister and his daughter, Sam was sure to be consulted upon the subject by “Miss Georgy,” as Miss Peck was called by the servants. If furniture, crockery, or anything else was to be purchased, Sam felt that he had been slighted if his opinion had not been asked. As to the marketing, he did it all. At the servants’ table in the kitchen, he sat at the head, and was master of ceremonies. A single look from him was enough to silence any conversation or noise in the kitchen, or any other part of the premises. There is, in the Southern States, a great amount of prejudice against colour amongst the negroes themselves. The nearer the negro or mulatto approaches to the white, the more he seems to feel his superiority over those of a darker hue. This is, no doubt, the result of the prejudice that exists on the part of the whites towards both mulattoes and blacks. Sam was originally from Kentucky, and through the instrumentality of one of his young masters whom he had to take to school, he had learned to read so as to be well understood; and, owing to that fact, was considered a prodigy among the slaves, not only of his own master’s, but those of the town who knew him. Sam had a great wish to follow in the footsteps of his master and be a poet, and was therefore often heard singing doggerels of his own composition. But there was one great drawback to Sam, and that was his colour. He was one of the blackest of his race. This he evidently regarded as a great misfortune. However, he made up for this in his dress. Mr. Peck kept his house servants well dressed; and as for Sam, he was seldom seen except in a ruffled shirt. Indeed, the washerwoman feared him more than all others about the house.
Currer, as we have already stated, was chief of the kitchen department, and had a general supervision of the household affairs. Alfred the coachman, Peter, and Hetty made up the remainder of the house servants. Besides these, Mr. Peck owned eight slaves who were masons. These worked in the city. Being mechanics, they were let out to greater advantage than to keep them on the farm. However, every Sunday night, Peck’s servants, including the bricklayers, usually assembled in the kitchen, when the events of the week were freely discussed and commented on. It was on a Sunday evening, in the month of June, that there was a party at Mr. Peck’s, and, according to custom in the Southern States, the ladies had their maidservants with them. Tea had been served in “the house,” and the servants, including the strangers, had taken their seats at the tea table in the kitchen. Sam, being a “single gentleman,” was usually attentive to the “ladies” on this occasion. He seldom or ever let the day pass without spending at least an hour in combing and brushing up his “har.” Sam had an idea that fresh butter was better for his hair than any other kind of grease; and therefore, on churning days, half a pound of butter had always to be taken out before it was salted. When he wished to appear to great advantage, he would grease his face, to make it “shiny.” On the evening of the party therefore, when all the servants were at the table, Sam cut a big figure. There he sat with his wool well combed and buttered, face nicely greased, and his ruffles extending five or six inches from his breast. The parson in his own drawing-room did not make a more imposing appearance than did his servant on this occasion.
“I jist bin had my fortune told last Sunday night,” said Sam, as he helped one of the girls to some sweet hash.
“Indeed,” cried half-a-dozen voices.
“Yes,” continued he; “Aunt Winny teld me I is to hab de prettiest yaller gal in town, and dat I is to be free.”
All eyes were immediately turned toward Sally Johnson, who was seated near Sarn. “I speck I see somebody blush at dat remark,” said Alfred.
“Pass dem pancakes and molasses up dis way, Mr. Alf, and none of your insinawaysion here,” rejoined Sam.
“Dat reminds me,” said Currer, “dat Doreas Simpson is gwine to git married.”
“Who to, I want to know?” inquired Peter.
“To one of Mr. Darby’s field-hands,” answered Currer.
“I should tink dat dat gal would not trow hersef away in dat manner,” said Sally. “She good enough looking to get a house servant, and not to put up wid a fiel’ nigger,” continued she.
“Yes,” said Sam, “dat’s a wery insensible remark of yours, Miss Sally. I admire your judgment wery much, I assure you. Dah’s plenty of suspectible and well-dressed house servants dat a gal of her looks can get, wid out taken up wid dem common darkies.”
“Is de man black or a mulatto?” inquired one of the company.
“He’s nearly white,” replied Currer.
“Well den, dat’s some exchuse for her,” remarked Sam; “for I don’t like to see dis malgemation of blacks and mulattoes.”
“No mulatto?” inquired one of the corn-how.
Continued Sam, “If I had my rights I would be a mulatto too,
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