Massacre Of The English Tongue. -- Donald The Friend Of France.
-- Scotch Anecdotes Again. -- Reason Of Their Drollery. --
Picturesque Dialect. -- Dry Old Faces. -- A Scotch Chambermaid.
-- Oddly-placed Moustachios. -- My Chimney Smokes. -- Sarcastic
Spirit. -- A Good Chance Of Entering Paradise Thrown Away. --
Robbie Burns And The Greenock Shopkeeper.
The Scotch may be recognised at the first word by the very strong,[F]
sonorous accent with which they speak English. It is like a German
accent with the _r_'s of the Normans. In the North of Scotland, the
accent is so Teutonic that one seems to be listening to Germans talking
English. The letters _b_, _d_, and _v_ are changed into _p_, _t_, and
_f_. The _ch_ is perfectly German at the end of a word, such as _loch_.
_Ght_ becomes _cht_, and is pronounced as in the German word _nacht_.
[F] The Scotch dialect has sometimes been called the Doric of
Great Britain.
Certainly there is nothing insurmountably difficult to understand in all
this; but that rogue of a Donald has a way of eating the ends of many of
his words, of running the mutilated remains in together with such
bewildering rapidity, and accompanying the whole with such a tremendous
rolling of _r_'s, that the stranger is completely staggered until his
ear grows accustomed to the jargon.
* * * * *
The English language is composed of about forty-three thousand words,
out of which fourteen thousand are of Germanic origin, and twenty-nine
thousand have come into it from the Latin through the Norman dialect.
But in Scotland you will hear the people using numbers of modern French
words, which are no part of the English vocabulary. These words are
remnants of the close relations that existed between France and Scotland
in the sixteenth century. They are mostly heard now in the mouths of the
older inhabitants.
For nearly a hundred years past the English have been continually
borrowing words from us (a loan which we return with interest), but they
are words which will only be found in use among the upper classes. The
case is different in Scotland. There the French words were adopted by
the people, and it is the people that still use them, and not the better
educated classes, for these latter avoid them as vulgar. In a hundred
years they will probably have fallen into disuse. It may not therefore
be out of place to give here a list, which I think is pretty complete,
of the French words that form the last trace of an alliance which has
left to this day a very pronounced sentiment of affection for France in
the hearts of the Scotch.
There were doubtless many others in use formerly, but I have collected
only those which may still be heard in everyday use among the Scotch
populace:
SCOTCH. ENGLISH. FRENCH.
Ashet Dish Assiette
Aumrie Cupboard Armoire
Bonnaille Parting glass Bon aller
Bourd Jest Bourde
Braw Fine Brave
Caraff Decanter Carafe
Certy Certainly Certes
Dambrod Draught board Dames
Dementit Derange Dementir
Dorty Sulky Durete
Douce Mild Doux
Dour Obstinate Dur
Fash oneself (to) Get angry (to) Facher (se)
Fashious Troublesome Facheux
Gardy loo Look out Gardez l'eau (gare l'eau)
Gardyveen Wine bin Garde-vin
Gean Cherry Guigne
Gigot Leg of mutton Gigot
Gou Taste Gout
Grange Granary Grange
Grosserts Gooseberries Groseilles
Gysart Disguised Guise
Haggis Hatched meat Hachis
Hogue Tainted Haut gout
Jalouse (to) Suspect Jalouser
Jupe Skirt Jupe
Kimmer Gossip Commere
Mouter Mixture of corn Mouture
Pantufles Slippers Pantoufles
Pertricks Partridges Perdrix
Petticoat tails Cakes Petits gatelles (gateaux)
Pouch Pocket Poche
Prosh, madame Come, madam Aprochez, madame
Reeforts Radishes Raiforts
Ruckle Heap (of stones) Recueil
Serviter Napkin Serviette
Sucker Sugar Sucre
Tassie Cup Tasse
Ule Oi Huile
Verity Truth Verite
Vizzy Aim Viser
These are not, as may be seen, words borrowed from our milliners and
dressmakers; they are terms that express the necessaries of life, and
which the Scotch housewives have not yet forgotten. They prove in an
irrefutable manner that the two nations mixed and knew each other
intimately.
* * * * *
The language spoken by the Scotch lends itself to humour. Their
picturesque pronunciation gives their conversation a piquancy which
defies imitation. A Scotch anecdote told in Scotch language never misses
its effect. Tell it in English, or any other language, and it loses all
its raciness.
As I have already remarked, the Scot does not seek to appear witty,
still less amusing, and there lies the charm. His remarks are not
intended to be quaint, but are intensely so. Their drollery lies in the
dialect and the combination of ideas. The Scotch are quick to seize the
humorous side of things, and that without being aware of it. Their
remarks are made with an imperturbable gravity, without a gesture, or
the movement of a muscle.
I fancy I see still the old Scotch servant with whom I was speaking on
the subject of a fire which would not burn in my room at a hotel. All at
once she interrupted the conversation; she had just perceived, on the
top of my head, a somewhat solitary lock of hair.
"Are ye growin' a moustache on the top o' your heid?" she exclaimed
without a smile.
My first impulse was to bid her mind her business, and make my fire
draw. But though I disliked the familiarity, I saw immediately that the
good creature, a bony Scotchwoman of at least fifty summers, had not had
the least intention of joking me, still less of vexing me. Her stolid
expression, her quaint accent, to say nothing of the incongruous idea
that had come to her lips, it all diverted me intensely, and I laughed
well over it to the great astonishment of the worthy woman, who went
away grumbling at the fire which had proved very obdurate.
The chimney continued to smoke horribly, and presently I rang the bell
again.
The woman reappeared.
"This chimney smokes atrociously still," I said.
You should have seen her dry old face as she simply remarked:
"Eh, mony a ane has complained o' that chimney."
The familiarity of the Scotch servant is an old theme. The good humour
of the master in Scotland encourages familiarity in the servant, and the
fidelity of the latter causes it to be overlooked.
I remember the dinner-gong had been sounded in a house where I was one
day visiting, and not being quite ready, I was still in my room. Someone
knocked at my door. It was an old servant. "Noo," said she, "it's time
to come doun to your dinner."
Scotch wit is cutting, there is often a sarcastic thrust in it,
sometimes even a little spice of malice.
You hear none of those good broad bulls, brimming over with innocence,
that are so amusing in the Irish; the Scotch witticisms are sharp
strokes that penetrate and strike home.
Lunardi, the aeronaut, having made an ascent in his balloon at
Edinburgh, came down on the property of a Presbyterian minister in the
neighbourhood of Cupar.
"We have been up a prodigious way," said the aeronaut to the minister;
"I really believe we must have been close to the gates of Paradise."
"What a pity you did not go in!" replied the Scotchman, "you may never
be so near again."
I might give numerous examples of this sarcastic wit that so often
underlies Scotch anecdotes. I will only cite one more. This time we have
Robert Burns for hero, and I extract the story from his biography:
The celebrated poet was one day walking on Greenock pier, when a rich
tradesman, who happened to be there also, slipped and fell in the water.
Being unable to swim, he would have been drowned but for the bravery of
a sailor who threw himself, all dressed as he was, into the water, and
brought him to land.
When the tradesman had regained consciousness and recovered from his
fright, he bethought himself that he ought to reward his rescuer.
Putting his hand in his pocket, he drew out a shilling, which he
generously presented to the brave sailor.
The crowd that had gathered round in admiration of the sailor's heroic
act could not restrain its indignation. Protestations were followed by
hoots, and the object of their scorn came very near being returned to
the water--to learn his way about.
Robbie Burns, however, succeeded in appeasing their wrath.
"Calm yourselves," said he; "this gentleman is certainly a better judge
of his own value than you can be."