· · ·
turning to page one
turning to page one
Still running, slick with sweat, Solomon comes upon the SHAW PLANTATION. It rivals that of Epps's in every way. MASTER SHAW, A WHITE PLANTATION OWNER, IS ON THE LAWN GROOMING A HORSE.
Sitting on the plantation's Piazza, Patsey is having tea with MISTRESS HARRIET SHAW, WHO IS A BLACK WOMAN. Though once a slave, she is now comparatively refined though not wholly so. The table where they sit is adorned with white linens, and they are attended by a HOUSE NIGGER. It makes for a bit of a surreal scene.
As Solomon arrives:
MASTER SHAW
Platt Epps, good Sunday morning.
SOLOMON
Good morning, Master Shaw. I've
been sent by Master to retrieve
Patsey. May I approach?
MASTER SHAW
You may.
Solomon makes his way over to the piazza.
SOLOMON
Excuse me, Mistress Shaw.
MISTRESS SHAW
Nigger Platt.
SOLOMON
My apologies. Patsey, Master
wishes you to return.
PATSEY
Sabbath day. I's free ta roam.
Massa know where I be.
SOLOMON
Understood. But the Master sent
me running to fetch you, and said
no time should be wasted.
MISTRESS SHAW
Drink tea, Nigger Platt?
SOLOMON
Thank you, Mistress, but I don't
dare.
MISTRESS SHAW
Would you knowed Massa Epps's
consternation ta be any lessened
wit your timely return? Anger be
his constant condition. Sit,
Nigger Platt. Sit and drink the
tea that offered.
Solomon knows better, but he sits and the Mistress has
MISTRESS SHAW (CONT'D)
What'n was Epps's concern?
SOLOMON
...I'd rather not say...
MISTRESS SHAW
L'il gossip on the Sabbath be
fine. All things in moderation.
Solomon is not sure what to say. He struggles to be as diplomatic as possible.
SOLOMON
As you are aware, Master Epps can
be a man of a hard countenance.
There are times when it is
impossible to account for his
logic. You know he has ill
feelings toward your husband.
MISTRESS SHAW
He do.
SOLOMON
Master Epps has somehow come to
believe, as incorrectly as it may
be, that Master Shaw is... That
he is something of a lothario and
an unprincipled man. A misguided
belief born out of their mutual
competition as planters, no doubt.
MISTRESS SHAW
No doubt...if not born outta truth
itself.
The Mistress waves to Shaw. Shaw, unsuspecting of the conversation, waves back.
SOLOMON
I'm certain, with regard to
Patsey's well being, Master Epps
concern is only to mind what is
his.
MISTRESS SHAW
Nothin' Epps desire come outta
concern. It all outta jealously.
SOLOMON
I meant no disrespect.
MISTRESS SHAW
He ain't heard you.
SOLOMON
I meant no disrespect to you,
Mistress.
MISTRESS EPPS
Ha! You worry for me? Got no
cause to worry for my senses.
Nigger Epps, I ain't felt the end
of a lash in 'mo years than I cain
recall. Ain't worked a field,
neither. Where one time I served,
now I got others servin' me. The
cost to my current existence be
Massa Shaw broadcasting his
affections. 'N me enjoining his
pantomime of fidelity. If that
what keep me from the cotton
pickin' niggers, that what it be.
A small and reasonable price to be
paid 'fo sure.
Looking toward Patsey:
MISTRESS SHAW
I knowed what it like to be the
object of Massa's predilections
and peculiarities. And I knowed
they can get expressed with
kindness or wit violence. A lusty
visit in the night, or a
visitation from the whip. And wit
my experience, if'n I can give
comfort, then comfort I give. And
you take comfort, Patsey; the Good
Lord will manage Epps. In His own
time the Good Lord will manage dem
all. Yes, Lordy, there's a day
comin' that will burn as an oven.
May be sooner, or it may be later,
but it comin' as sure as the Lord
is just. When His will be
done...the curse on the Pharos is
a poor example of all that wait
'fo the plantation class.
As if to punctuate her thought, the Mistress takes a sip of her tea.