The "Cutta Cord-la" story (p. 241) of Daddy Jack is in some respects unique. It was sent to the writer by Mrs. Martha B. Washington, of Charleston, South Carolina, and there seems to be no doubt that it originated in San Domingo or Martinique. The story of how Brother Rabbit drove all the other animals out of the new house they had built, by firing a cannon and pouring a tub of water down the stairway, has its variant in Demerara. Indeed, it was by means of this variant, sent by Mr. Wendell P. Garrison, of "The Nation" (New York), that the negro story was procured.
In the introduction to the first volume of Uncle Remus, a lame apology was made for inflicting a book of dialect upon the public. Perhaps a similar apology should be made here; but the discriminating reader does not need to be told that it would be impossible to separate these stories from the idiom in which they have been recited for generations. The dialect is a part of the legends themselves, and to present them in any other way would be to rob them of everything that gives them vitality. The dialect of Daddy Jack, which is that of the negroes on the Sea Islands and the rice plantations, though it may seem at first glance to be more difficult than that of Uncle Remus, is, in reality, simpler and more direct. It is the negro dialect in its most primitive state—the "Gullah" talk of some of the negroes on the Sea Islands, being merely a confused and untranslatable mixture of English and African words. In the introductory notes to "Slave Songs of the United States" may be found an exposition of Daddy Jack's dialect as complete as any that can be given here. A key to the dialect may be given very briefly. The vocabulary is not an extensive one—more depending upon the manner, the form of expression, and the inflection, than upon the words employed. It is thus an admirable vehicle for story-telling. It recognizes no gender, and scorns the use of the plural number except accidentally. "'E" stands for "he" "she" or "it," and "dem" may allude to one thing, or may include a thousand. The dialect is laconic and yet rambling, full of repetitions, and abounding in curious elisions, that give an unexpected quaintness to the simplest statements. A glance at the following vocabulary will enable the reader to understand Daddy Jack's dialect perfectly, though allowance must be made for inversions and elisions.
B'er, brother. Beer, bear. Bittle, victuals. Bret, breath Buckra, white man, overseer, boss Churrah, churray, spill, splash Da, the, that Dey, there Dey-dey, here, down there, right here Enty, ain't he? an exclamation of astonishment or assent Gwan, going Leaf, leave Lif, live Lil, lil-a, or lilly, little Lun, learn Mek, make Neat', or nead, underneath, beneath Oona, you, all of you Sem, same Shum, see them, saw them Tam, time 'Tan', stand Tankee, thanks, thank you Tark, or tahlk, talk Teer, tear Tek, take T'ink, or t'ought, think, thought T'row, throw Titty, or titter, sissy, sister Trute, truth Turrer, or tarrah, the other Tusty, thirsty Urrer, other Wey, where Wun, when Wut, what Y'et or ut, earth Yeddy, or yerry, heard, hear Yent, ain't, is n't.
The trick of adding a vowel to sound words is not unpleasing to the ear. Thus: "I bin-a wait fer you; come-a ring-a dem bell. Wut mek-a (or mekky) you stay so?" "Yeddy," "yerry," and probably "churry" are the result of this—heard-a, yeard-a, yeddy; hear-a, year-a, yerry; chur-a, churray. When "eye" is written "y-eye," it is to be pronounced "yi." In such words as "back," "ax," a has the sound of ah. They are written "bahk," "ahx."
Professor J. A. Harrison of the Washington and Lee University, Lexington, Virginia, has recently written a paper on "The Creole Patois of Louisiana,"[i_21] which is full of interest to those interested in the study of dialects. In the course of his paper, Professor Harrison says: "Many philologists have noted the felicitous [Greek: aithiopizein] of Uncle Remus in the negro dialect of the South. The Creole lends itself no less felicitously to the récit and to the conte, as we may say on good authority. The fables of La Fontaine and Perrin, and the Gospel of St. John have, indeed, been translated into the dialect of San Domingo or Martinique; lately we have had a Greek plenipotentiary turning Dante into the idiom of New Hellas; what next? Any one who has seen the delightful 'Chansons Canadiennes' of M. Ernest Gagnon (Quebec, 1880) knows what pleasant things may spring from the naïve consciousness of the people. The Creole of Louisiana lends itself admirably to those petits poèmes, those simple little dramatic tales, compositions, improvisations, which, shunning the regions of abstraction and metaphysics, recount the experiences of a story-teller, put into striking and pregnant syllabuses the memorabilia of some simple life, or sum up in pointed monosyllables the humor of plantation anecdote." Professor Harrison alludes to interesting examples of the Creole negro dialect that occur in the works of Mr. George W. Cable, and in "L'Habitation Saint-Ybars," by Dr. Alfred Mercier, an accomplished physician and litterateur of New Orleans. In order to show the possibilities of the Creole negro dialect, the following Conte Nègre, after Dr. Mercier, is given. The story is quoted by Professor Harrison, and the literal interlinear version is inserted by him to give a clue to the meaning. The Miss Meadows of the Georgia negro, it will be perceived, becomes Mamzel Calinda, and the story is one with which the readers of the first volume of Uncle Remus are familiar. It is entitled "Mariage Mlle. Calinda."
1 Dan tan lé zote foi, compair Chivreil avé compair Dans temps les autres fois, compère Chevreuil avec compère
2 Torti té tou lé dé apé fé lamou à Mamzel Calinda. Tortue étaient tous les deux après faire l'amour à Mademoiselle Calinda.
3 Mamzel Calinda té linmin mié compair Chivreil, cofair Mlle. Calinda avait aimé mieux compère Chevreuil, [pour] quoi faire
4 li pli vaïan; mé li té linmin compair Torti oucite, le plus vaillant; mais elle avait aimé compère Tortue aussi,
5 li si tan gagnin bon tchor! Popa Mamzel Calinda di li: il si tant gagner bon cœur! Papa Mlle. Calinda dire lui:
6 "Mo fie, li tan to maïé; fo to soizi cila to oulé." Landimin, "Ma fille, il (est) temps te marier; faut te choisir cela tu voulez." Lendemain,
7 compair Chivreil avé compair Torti rivé tou yé dé coté Mlle. C. compère Chevreuil avec compère Tortue arriver tous eux de côté Mlle. C.
8 Mamzel C., qui té zonglé tou la nouite, di yé: "Michié Chivreil avé Mlle. C., qui avait songé toute la nuit, dire eux: "Monsieur Chevreuil avec
9 Michié Torti, mo popa oulé mo maïe. Mo pa oulé di ain Monsieur Tortue, mon papa vouloir me marier. Moi pas vouloir dire un
10 dan ouzote non. Ouzote a galopé ain lacourse dice foi cate dans vous autres non. Vous autres va galopper une la course dix fois quatre
11 narpan; cila qui sorti divan, ma maïe avé li. Apé dimin arpents; cela qui sortir devant, moi va marier avec lui. Après demain
12 dimance, ouzote a galopé." Yé parti couri, compair Chivreil dimanche, vous autres va galopper." Eux partir courir, compère Chevreuil
13 zo tchor contan; compair Torti apé zonglé li-minme: son cœur content; compère Tortue après songer lui-même:
14 "Dan tan pacé, mo granpopa bate compair Lapin pou "Dans temps passé, mon grandpapa battre compère Lapin pour
15 galopé. Pa conin coman ma fé pou bate compair Chivreil." galopper. Pas conner (= connaître) comment moi va faire pour battre compère Chevreuil."
16 Dan tan cila, navé ain vié, vié cocodri qui té gagnin Dans temps cela en avait un vieux, vieux crocodile qui avait gagné
17 plice pacé cincante di zan. Li té si malin, yé té pelé li plus passé cinquante dix ans. Lui était si malin, eux avaient appelé lui
18 compair Zavoca. La nouite vini, compair Torti couri trouvé compère Avocat. La nuit venir, compère Tortue courir trouver
19 compair Zavoca, é conté li coman li baracé pou so compère Avocat, et conter lui comment lui embarrasser pour sa
20 lacourse. Compair Zavoca di compair Torti: "Mo ben la course. Compère Avocat dire compère