"I agree perfectly with you," I answered. "I am a full believer in a special Providence; yet it would seem but a small and undignified exercise of that Divine power, to make you catch a fish at one moment more than another."
"What is small, and what is great, to God Almighty?" asked the man, still keeping his eyes on the stream. "He made the emmet as well as the biggest of beasts; he made the grain of sand an well as the mountain. How can you tell, master, how small events may affect great ones? My catching a fish, now or then, may, by giving food and comfort to a family, allay their discontent; and, putting off its outbreak, induce them to go on in quiet, till some further relief comes--in its due season also. Does not the Bible tell us that not a sparrow falls to the ground unnoticed? Everything is by God's will--everything is in God's time. What is small? What is great to Him? In a universe everything has its proper place, every event its proper moment; and the derangement of the least would destroy the order of the whole. My time, too, will come for whatever I have to do; and I am ready to do God's will, whatever it may be." I never was more astonished in my life than by this man's discourse. I had heard Hindoos many a time speak in a somewhat similar way; but they are proverbially a thoughtful, speculative, I may almost say a metaphysical race; but to hear such words from a poor despised negro--from one of a class to whom the higher ranges of thought seem forbidden, as well by capability as by education--was very strange. While he had been speaking he had only turned his face to me once; and when he ceased, I mused for a minute or two, not jumping at a conclusion at once, but asking myself, first, whether he had learned all this from some one else, like a parrot. Rejecting that suspicion speedily, as contradicted by his whole tone and manner, I next considered whether it was likely or unlikely that every faculty of the mind would be equally developed. Grasp of intellect, logical power, he certainly possessed; but a good many (perhaps) subordinate qualities and faculties are requisite to make such gifts available for man's conduct, either towards his fellow man or towards his God. I had nearly come to the conclusion that it was almost certain he must possess them, when suddenly a laugh--the unmeaning, almost idiotic laugh of the negro race--broke from his lips, followed by--
"Ah, master, I've caught you!" And I saw him pulling a large fish towards the shore. It seemed that this was all he wanted. He showed it to me with a sort of child-like triumph; and then, throwing away the pole with which he had been fishing, and rolling up his line, he walked some way by my side, as I took my path homeward. I was anxious to know more of this man, and tried to put him upon some of those tracks which I thought might bring forth the peculiarities of his mind. He seemed a little shy, however, in answering my inquiries, and in following any train of thought which was placed before him. This was natural enough in one of an enslaved race, in whose bosoms there must always be some feeling of wrong and oppression, so long as there is vanity in the human heart. However kindly they may be treated--however incapable they may be of taking care of, directing, and providing for themselves, they will always feel an uncongeniality--a want of sympathy with the dominant race, and shrink into themselves, more or less, when brought into communication with their masters. My companion gave me his name--Nathaniel Turner--and told me where he lived, which was not far distant; but only once was I able to bring from him a spark of that intellectual fire which he had previously displayed, and which, even now, was half smothered by that cunning which is common to savages and children. In stating that I was an Englishman, I alluded to our having emancipated our slaves in the West-India islands, and I could see a sort of eager light break forth from his eyes; but it was quenched the next moment, as if he still entertained some doubts and suspicions.
"Well, master," he said, "I can't tell whether you are right or wrong in freeing the slaves. I suppose you did it because you thought you had no right to make them slaves at first. But if you did think so, there was a great deal more to be done than merely to give them back their liberty. You had taken a great deal more from them than freedom; you had taken from them their country, their home, their habits; and, I think, you were bound either to restore to them all the things of their former state, or to take good care of them, and fit them for the state into which you had brought them. However, I am a poor, foolish man, and know nothing about these things. I have been a slave all my life, and I have had very good masters. I doubt not it will all be brought right in the end; and, perhaps, we niggers are placed in the situation proper for us. At all events, it is God's will, and so we ought to be content. Now, it's possible, this fish, here in my hand, would rather have been some great shark, or some beast, or some bird, or even, perhaps, a man; but God willed it otherwise: if not, he would never have been hanging on my hook. But should the pot say to the hand that fashioned it, 'Why madest thou me so?' I was born of a different colour from you and your friends; and that difference of colour is a great difference in this world. Content is everything, good master; and I am very well content as I am--so long as it is God's will I should be so." The last words were spoken after a pause, and with a good deal of emphasis; and, anxious to know more of his thoughts and feelings, I replied,--
"Ay, but the difficulty is, in the complication of this world's affairs, to discover what is God's will, and what is man's."
"Whatever is, is God's will," he answered; and then added, in a slow tone, "His will will always be revealed in due time. If man cannot see clearly, God will give him eyes; and when his time comes, all must be accomplished. There is no standing against the hand of God; and let no man imagine that His judgment is not right." By this time we had arrived at a spot about a mile from Beavors, and I could perceive, walking along the edge of a wood enclosed with a snake fence, a figure which something within me told me at once was Bessy Davenport, come forth to take her usual morning's walk. She was advancing directly towards us; and, on seeing her, I left my sable companion, and proceeded to join her.
"Why, who have you been talking to?" she asked, as I came up. "It looks like Nat Turner."
"No other," I answered. "Do you know anything of him?"
"Oh, yes," she exclaimed; "he is a very extraordinary man indeed, and lives not far off, at Mr. Travis's, the next plantation. All the negroes look upon him as a sort of prophet, and certainly his powers of mind are so superior to those of slaves in general, that they may well do so. No one knows who taught him to read; and, if asked, he says no one taught him--it came to him of itself. Of course, that is nonsense; but, undoubtedly, he is a very extraordinary man, and his manners and language are far above his race."
"That I clearly perceived," I answered; "yet I could see a good many negro traits--at least I thought so. I should much like to see more of him. What is his general character?"