13 SEPTEMBER 1856, Page 17

MRS. STOWE'S DRED. * IT is obvious that no future novel

by Mrs. Stowe could excite the interest of Uncle Tom's Cabin ; for it must want the element of surprise which that fiction possessed when it startled the reading world. Neither could any novel on slavery by the same pen pos- sess the same attraction ; for the broad elements of romantic in- terest were then handled in their most effective modes, (at least as regards Mrs. Stowe,) and there must be either repetition or inferi- ority of subject. The attraction of Dred, however, has fallen be- low the unavoidable level, from deficiency in turtistical manage- ment, or haste induced by eagerness to take advantage of the Anti- Slavery feeling caused by late events in America. A great source of interest in Uncle Tom was movement. Character and manners might be exhibited or developed by dialogues and scenes, but they were not displayed for themselves ; they advanced the progress of the story—at the end of a chapter the reader was so much fur- ther on. The opening scene of Uncle Tom presented two types of Southern character,—the high-bred, high-spirited planter, whom pecuniary pressure compels to sell some of his people ; the coarse- natured, ignorant,r slave-dealer, brutalized by his calling, but not at bottom avtliala fellow apart from his business, or even in it so far as it permits good-nature. The traits of both were naturally and capitally exhibited ; but there was a good deal more than a painting of character and manners. The key-note to • Dred : a Tate of the Great Dismal Swamp. By Harriet Beecher Stowe, Author of" Uncle Tom's Cabin." Published by Low and Son, London; Constable and Co., Edinburgh.

a large portion of the book was struck. The reader had opened up to bun aspects of Southern society and slavery evils—the em- barrassments of the planter, the separation of families, the darker misery that may overtake the partly-educated slave, cultivated into sensitiveness by domestic association. In Dred the author exhibits the same easy naturalness in developing character and painting manners ; but they are exhibited only for themselves, or at best to let the persons make the acquaintance of the reader for use on some future occasion. The consequence is, that a large portion of the book is clever but wearisome; and this more espe- cially applies to the early part. The slow progress of the story is not the only defect. In a strict sense there is no story. There is a love-affair between Nina Gordon and Edward Clayton. Nina is the orphan child of Southern parents, educated at New York ; and she resides under the nominal guardianship of an easy, goodnatured uncle ; while her estate is managed by her half-brother, of whose relationship, however, she is ignorant, such being Southern etiquette. Nina is a clever creation ; impulsive, thoughtless, and coquettish, till she meets with Clayton ; but she is not an attractive character to English tastes, nor does she leave a favourable impression of American manners or Northern education. Edward Clayton is more respectable, but less natural. High-principled, conscien- tious, religious, and philosophical, he withdraws from the bar when his father, Judge Clayton, pronounces a decision adverse to the owner of a hired slave whom the drunken hirer has wounded : he is forced to withdraw from the State when he takes to educa- ting his people with a view to emancipation, and finally retires to Canada. Like very good people, Edward is something prosy, and something, we should take it, of an American prig. Dred, who gives the title to the book, is the son of the leader of a conspiracy against the planters ; but, being detected, the leader and many others were promptly executed. The son takes to the Great Dismal Swamp, and is the acknowledged head of some fugi- tive slaves. Dred is physically east in the heroic form : he isde- signed by the author to mentally represent the loftiest heroic na- ture, with the spirit of the old Hebrew prophets touched by the 'wildness of African superstition. He himself, and the incidents connected with him, seem to us to be more melodramatic than natural. At all events, neither with Nina, Clayton, Dred, nor Nina's brother, Tom Gordon, who embodies the Southern ruffian and debauehee, are there the connected and continuing events that form a story, much less that critically constitute an action. Scenes illustrative of character, manners, and the "peculiar in- stitution," are "hooked on" to the persons above enumerated, but they do not plainly influence their fortunes ; indeed they are scarcely connected with their fortunes. Nor is there any com- plete and sufficient ending. Nina dies of cholera, as anybody else might die of that or any other disease ; Dred is shot by Negro-hunters in the swamp, as any other fugitive might be shot ; Clayton is warned to retire from the State, and does so, after having had part of his premises burnt by an Anti-Slavery mob; and Tom Gordon is left to go on as usual. It has been objected that Mrs. Stowe's presentation of slavery is exceptional. Perhaps it is in some of her characters, especially Uncle Tom himself. As regards incidents a distinction must be drawn between offences and usages. In England, a master might possibly kill an apprentice by a series of ill-usage ; but the law, if appealed to, would have stopped the crime, as it would certainly punish it if proved. In the Slave States, to tar and feather or otherwise maltreat an Abolitionist, is a social usage, which society encourages, though every one may not practice it. Even if starving an apprentice were as common as assailing an Abolitionist, they would not fall into the same cate- gory. It is the nature not the rarity of an act which renders it exceptional. The real defect in Mrs. Stowe's illustrations of the grosser evils of slavery is, that they are not the deduction of ex- perience, but seem taken on set purpose from some particular in- stance. The attack upon Clayton in the forest by Tom Gordon and some ruffianly companions, is a mere counterpart of Butler's assault on Mr. Sumner, with a change of place. The illustrations are stuck on, not woven in. In fact, the book altogether wants texture.

The broader types of the evils of slavery—the separation of families, the trading libertinism, more revolting than any Eu- ropean licentiousness, the horrible cruelties that may be prac- tised, and the searing of even the female heart to female suffer- ing, were all exhibited in Uncle Tom's Cabin. To a great degree they are repeated in the present novel. The hitherto untouched feature is the position and character of the "poor Whites" in the South, awl the prospects of decaying fatnilies. These portions of Dred are fresh, and give rise to the only thing in the book that can be called a story, as well as to the scenes of most humour and pathos. One Cripps, a "poor White," has got intimate in. former days with the son of a planter whose familyherl fallen in circum- stances. Cripps marries the daughter clandestinely : the faimly, though reduced in means, still retain their pride, and turn they backs upon her, always except her mother's old Negro, Tiff; one of the best characters Mrs. Stowe has ever drawn, bringing out the virtues and weakness of the Negro without raising him abave probability.

"The family, whom_ poverty coulbi not teach to forget theirdei were greatly scandalized at the marriage ; and, had there been anything eft in the worn-out estate wherewith to portion her, the bride, nevatheless, would have been portionless. The sole piece of property that went out with her from the paternal 'mansion was one who having a mind and will of his own, could not be kept from following her. The girl's mother had come from a

distant branch of one of the most celebrated families in Virginia, and Tiff had been her servant ; and, with a heart for ever swelling with the remem- brances of the ancestral greatness of the Peytons, he followed his young mistress in her mesalliance with long-suffering devotion. He even bowed his neck so far as to acknowledge for his master a man whom he considered by position infinitely his inferior ; for Tiff, though crooked and black, never seemed to cherish the slightest doubt that the whole force of the Peyton blood coursed through his veins, and that the Peyton honour was intrusted to his keeping. His mistress was a Peyton, her children were Peyton chil- dren, and even the little bundle of flannel in the ruin-tree cradle was a Peyton ; and as for him, he was Tiff Peyton, and this thought warmed and consoled him as he followed his poor mistress during all the steps of her downward course in the world. On her husband he looked with patronizing civil contempt. He wished him well ; he thought it proper to put the best face on all his actions : but, in a confidential hour, Tiff would sometimes raise his spectacles emphatically, and give it out as his own private opinion, that dare could not be much 'spected from dat ar 'scription of people ! ' "

At the time when the Cripps and Tiff are introduced to the reader, the family have got as low as they well can; - occupying a small cot in the vicinity of Nina's plantation ; Mrs. Cripps and her children being really dependent upon Tiff's exertions for their living. On the night of the following extract, Cripps has just come home, and finished the savoury supper Tiff had provided for his sick mistress and the children.

"Ali, that's what I call comfortable,' said Cripps, lying back in his chair. Tiff, pull my boots off, and hand out that ar demijohn. Sue, I hope you've made a comfortable meal,' he said incidentally, standing with his back to her compounding the potation of whisky-and-water ; which, having drunk, he Called up Teddy, and offered him the sugar at the bottom of the glass. But Teddy, being forewarned by a meaning glance through Tiff's spectacles, responded very. politely, 'No thank you, pa, I don't love it. Come here, then, and take it off like a man. It's good for you,' said John Cripps.

" The mother's eyes followed the child wistfully ; and she said, faintly, 'Don't, John—don't!' And Tiff ended the controversy by taking the glass unceremoniously out of his master's hand.

"Laws bless you, masse, can't be bodered with dose yer young ones die yer time of night. 'Time dey's all in bed, and dishes washed up. Here, Tedd,' seizing the child, and loosening the buttons of his slip behind, and drawing out a rough trundle-bed, you crawl in dere, and curl up in your nest : and don't you forget your prars, honey, else, maybe, you'll never wake up again.'

"Cripps had now filled a pipe with tobacco of the most villanous charac- ter, and with which incense he was perfuming the little apartment. "'Laws, mass; dat ar smoke an't good for missis,' said Tiff. She done been sick to her stomach all day.'

"Oh, let him smoke. I like to have him enjoy himself,' said the indul- gent wife. But, Fanny., you had better go to lied, dear. Come here and kiss the child. Good-night—good-night ! ' "The mother held on to her long, and looked at her wistfully; and when she had turned to go, she drew her back, and kissed her again, and said, ' Goodnight, dear child, good night ! '

"Fanny climbed up a ladder in one corner of the room through a square hole to the loft above.

" 'I say,' said Cripps, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and looking at Tiff, who was washing the dishes= I say, it's kind of peculiar that gal keeps sick so. Seemed to have good constitution when I married her. I'm thinking,' said he, without noticing the gathering wrath in Tiff's face- ' I'm a-thinking whether steamin' wouldn't do her good. Now, I got a most dreadful cold when I was up at Raleigh; thought I should have given up. And there was a steam-doctor there; had a little kind of machine, with a kettle and pipes ; and he put me in bed, put in the pipes, and set it ageing. I thought, my. soul, I should have been floated off; but it carried off the cold complete : I'm thinking if something of that kind wouldn't be good for Miss Cripps."

"'Laws, mama, don't go for to trying it on her. She is never no better for dese yer things you do for her.' "Now,' said Cripps, not appearing to notice the interruption, these yer stove-pipes and the tea-kettle,—I shouldn't wonder if we could get up a steam with them.'

"'It's my private 'pinion, if you do, she'll be sailing. out of the world,' said one man's meat is another man's plain, my old miasis used to say. Very beat thing that you can do for her is to leave her alone ; dat aria my 'pinion.' "John, said the little woman, after a few minutes, I wish you'd come and sit on the bed.' There was something positive and almost authoritative here in the manner'in which this was said, which struck John as so unusual that he came with a bewildered air, sat down, and gazed at her with his mouth wide open. 'I'm so glad you've come, because I have had things that I've wanted to say to you. rye been lying here thinking about it, and i

I've been turning it over n my mind. I'm going to die soon, I know. " Ah ! bah ! don't be bothering a fellow with any of your hysterics.'

"'John, John, it isn't hysterics. Look at me ! Look at my hand—look at my face. I'm so weak, and sometimes I have such coughing spells, and every time it seems to me as if I ahould die. But it ain't to trouble you that I talk. I don't care about myself; but I don't want the children to grow up and be like we've been. You have a great many contrivances ; do pray contrive to have them taught to read, and make something of them in the world.

"'Bah, what's the use? I never learnt to read, and I'm as good a fel- low as I want. Why, there's plenty of men round here making their money ev year that can't read or write a word. Old Hubell, there, up on the Shad plantation, has hauled in money hand over hand, and he always signs his mark. Got nine sons—can't a soul of them read or write more than I. I tell you there's nothing ever comes of this yer learning. It's all a sell—a regular Yankee hoax. I've always got cheated by them damn reading waiting Yankees whenever I've traded with 'em. What's the good, I want to know ? You. was teached how to read when you was young; much good it's ever done you!'

"'Sure enough. Sick day and night ; moving about from place to place ; sick baby crying, and not knowing what to do for it no more than a child. Oh, I hope Fanny will learn something ! It seems to me if there was some school for my children to go to, or some church, or something—now, if there le any such place as heaven, I should like to have them get to it.' " Ah ! bahl don't bother about that. When we get keeled. up, that will be the last of us. Come, come, don't plague a fellow any more with such talk. I'm tired, and I'm going to sleep. And the man, divesting himself of his overcoat, threw himself on the bed, and was soon snoring heavily in profound slumber. "Tiff who had been trotting the baby by the fire, now came softly to the bedside and sat down. Miss Sue,' he said, it's no 'count talking to him. don't mean nothing dis'spectful Miss Sue ; but de fac is, dem dat isn't born gentlemen can't be 'spected fur to see through dese yer things like us of de old families. Law_, missis, don't you worry. Now, jest leave this yer matter to old Tlif. Dere never wasn't anything Tiff couldn't do' if he tried. Re! ! he ! Miss Fanny, she done got de letters right smart ; and I know I'll come it round mama and make him buy de books for her. I'll tell you what's come into my head today. There's a younglady come to de big plantation, up dere, who's been to New York getting edicated, and I's going for to ask her about dese yer things, and about de chiTen's going to church, and dese yer things. Why, preaching, you know, is mazin' un- sestain round here ; but I'll keep on de look-out, and do 'de beet I can. Why, Lord, Miss Sue., Pa bound for the land of Canaan myself, the best way can: and rm sartam I shan't go without taking the chil'en along with me. Ho! ho ! ho! Dat's what I shan't ; de chit' en will have to be with Tiff, and Tiff will have to be with the chil'en, wherever dey in Dat's it. He! he! he!' "'Tiff,' said the young woman, her large blue eyes looking at him, 'I have heard of the Bible; have you ever seen one, l'ir? ' " 'Oh, yes, honey, der was a big Bible that your ma brought in the family when she married ; but dat ar was tore up to make wadding for de guns, one thing or another, and dey never got no more. But I's been very 'ser- ving, and kept my ears open in a camp meeting and such places, and I's

learnt right smart of de things that's in it.' . " Now Tiff, can you say anything ?' said she, fixing her large troubled eyes on hii.

"'Well, honey, dere's one thing the man said at the last camp meeting. He preached 'bout it, and I couldn't make out a word he said, 'cause I an't smart about preaching like I be about most things; but he said dis yer so often that r couldn't help 'member it. Says he, it was dish yer way, "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."' "'Rest, rest, rest ! ' said the woman, thoughtfully, and drawing a long sigh. 0, how much I want it ! Did he say that was in the Bible ? ' " ' Yes, he said so; and I 'spects, by all he said, it's de good Lord above i

dat sass t. It always make me feel better to think on it. It 'peered like it was just what I was wanting to hear.' " ' And I too,' she said, turning her head wearily, and closing her eyes.

Tiff,' she said, opening them, where I'm going, may be I shall meet the one who said that, and I'll ask him about it. Don't talk to me more now, I'm getting sleepy. I thought I was better a little while after he came home, but Pm more tired yet. Put the baby in my arms, I like the feeling of it. There, there ; now give me rest, please do.' And she sank into a deep and quiet slumber.

"tiff softly covered the fire, and sat down by the bed, watching the flickering shadows as they danced upward on the wall, listening to the heavy sighs of the pine-trees, and the hard breathing of the sleeping man. Sometimes he nodded sleepily, and then, recovering, rose and took a turn to awaken himself. A shadowy sense of fear fell upon him ; not that he appre- hended anything, for he regarded the words of his mistress only as the fore- bodings of a wearied invalid. The idea that she could actually die, and go anywhere without him to take care of her, seemed never to have occurred to him. About midnight, as if a spirit had laid its hand upon him, his eyes flew wide open with a sudden start. Her thin cold hand was lying on his; her eyes, large and blue, shone with a singular and spiritual race.

" Dr,' she gasped, speaking with difficulty, I've seen the one that said that; and it's all true too ; and I've seen all why I've suffered so much. lie—Re—Re is going to take me. Tell the children about Him.' There was a fluttering sigh, a slight shiver, and the lids fell over the eyes for ever. "Death is always sudden. However gradual may be its approaches, it is in its effects upon the survivor always sudden at last. Tiff thought at first that his mistress was in a fainting-fit, and tried every means to restore her. It was affecting to see him chafing the thin, white, pearly hands, in his large rough black paws ; raising the head upon his arm, and calling in a thou- sand tones of fond endearment, pouring out a perfect torrent of loving de- votion on the cold unheeding ear. But then, spite of all he could do the face settled itself, and the hands would not be warmed. The thought of death struck hint suddenly, and, throwing himself on the floor by the bed, he wept with an exceeding loud and bitter cry."

The excellence of Tiff's character lies not only in its dramatic strength and finish but its naturalness. Uncle Tom's religion was too lofty, too complete, too scholarly in its tone and concep- tion. Tiff has the religious element strong in him, together with a most faithful belief; but it is a faith without knowledge, his shrewd sense struggling all the time against an imperfect compre- hension of the dogmas of theology. This ignorance has been partly seen in the last extract ; it is still clearer in his judgment on the camp-meeting sermons, to which he has gone from a sense of duty—Nina and a large party, including her jovial uncle John, out of curiosity.

" ' Tiff, how did you like the sermon?' said Nina.

" 'Der's petty far, Miss Nina. Der's a good deal o'quality preaching.' "'What do you mean by quality preaching, Tiff?' "Why, dat sr kind dat's good for quality—full of long words you know.

I 'spects it's very good; but poor niggers like me can't see his way through it. You see, Miss Nina what I's studdin' on lately, is how to get dese yer &Wen to Canaan - and 'I hare fus with one ear, and den with oder, but 'pears like an't elnr 'bout it, yet. Dare's a heap about most everything else, and it's all very good ; but 'pears like I an't clar arter all about dat ar. Doy says, Come to Christ ; ' and. I says,: Whar is he, any how? ' Brew you, I want to come ! Dey talks 'bout going in de gate, and knocking at de do', and 'bout marching on de road, and 'bout fighting and being soldiers of de cross ; and de Lord knows, now I'd be glad to get de chif en through any gate; and I could take 'em on my back and travel all day, if dere was any road: and if dere was a do', bless me, if (ley wouldn't hear tad Tiffs rap- ping ! I 'spects de Lord would have fur to open it—would so. But, aster all, when de preaching is done, dere don't 'pear to be no- thing to it. Dere an't no gate, dere an't no do', nor no way ; and dere an't no fighting, 'c.ept when Ben Dakin and Jim Stokes get jawing about der dogs ; and everybody comes back eating der dinner quite comf table, and 'pears like dere wmft no such thing defs been preaching 'bout. Dat ar troubles me—does so—'cause I wants fur to get dese yet chiren in de king- dom, some way or other. I didn't know but some of de quality would know more 'bout it.

" Hang ME if I haven't felt just so !' said uncle John. 'When they were singing that hymn 'bout enlisting, and being a soldier, if there had been any fighting doing anywhere, I should have certainly gone right into it ; and the preaching always stirs me up terribly. But then, as Tiff says, after it's all over, why, there's dinner to be eaten, and I can't see anything better than to eat it; and then by the time I have drank two or three glasses of wine, it's all gone. Now that's just the way with me I'

"Boy says,' said Tiff, dat we must wait for de blessing to come down upon us; and aunt Rose says it's dem dat shouts dat gets de blessing; and I's been shouting till I's most beat out, but I hasn't got it. Den, one of dam said none of dem could get it but de 'lest; but, den, t'oder one, he seemed

to think different; and in de meeting dey tells about de scales falling from der eyes,—and I wished dey fall from mine—I do so !' "