Chapter XI: Part 11

The rates for the poor, for repair of roads, for police (for there is a policeman in every village), and for the county prison amounted in the parish I speak of to about two shillings and sixpence in the pound of the assessed annual value of the land. As the pound is twenty shillings, the assessment consequently is over twelve per cent.

The burden of supporting the poor, while much lighter than in Ireland, must be far heavier than in our country. Huntingdonshire is one of the smallest counties in England. In 1871 it contained less than seventy thousand people, and at the time of my visit had four unions or poor-houses. But this does not altogether represent the amount of poverty. In another farming region, I understood that the farm-laborer, even though he be sober, honest, and industrious, seldom or never lays by enough to support his family in his age, but becomes partially or entirely dependent on parish relief. But out-door relief in the parish I have been describing, and perhaps in England generally, is granted only to the aged; young people must go into “The House.” There they pick oakum and work garden ground. Children are put out at fourteen or earlier, if they have passed in the school “the fourth standard.” No child is allowed during the period that school is open to go to work under the age of ten.

* * * * *

Tithes in this parish of Haddenham cum Stonea average about one dollar and eighty cents to the acre. If there were sufficient land attached to the rectory for the income to support Mr. Rounce there would be no tithes, but there are only sixty acres of glebe land, and the living is worth, as I have stated, about six thousand dollars yearly. The sixty acres of glebe land bring in about five hundred dollars, hence the remainder is to be raised by tithes.

I have spoken of Jackson, the carpenter with whom I boarded. He was a dissenter, and they attended the chapel. He rented, however, six acres of land, and his tithes to the English Church were about ten dollars yearly.

Formerly Quakers resisted the payment of tithes. A friend told me that his father, uncle, and grandfather were imprisoned in the county jail for non-payment. When he himself farmed three hundred and twenty-two acres, he paid five hundred and twenty pounds rent and one hundred and twenty pounds for tithes. This money was generally seized from him. He had land in three parishes, and numerous warrants were out against him. The officers would come with cart or wagon, and seize his grain while he was threshing. In his father’s time they would have green boughs, and stick one into every tenth shock of grain or hay. But Friends have now given up this contest, and pay tithes quietly. Apparently he did not think them burdensome.

* * * * *

Tolls on roads were abolished in England only a few years ago, and the expense now falls on the landholder. We do not often see in our country such a road as connects the two villages which I describe under the name Haddenham and Stonea. It is a highway in splendid form and order, with a wide grassy margin and a ditch on each side. On one is a wide, gravelled footpath, and fine green hedges separate the road from the fields.

SCHOOLS.

There are three schools in these two villages. One of them is a Dame school, or an unpretending private one, which I did not visit; but the two principal ones deserve attention from the students of our institutions and of English ones. They are public schools, although people pay for tuition. That in Haddenham is a National school, that in Stonea a British school. In the former, Mr. Rounce, the rector, is manager, and the doctrines of the Church of England are taught. The other, the British school, is under charge of a board, or of a committee, of which several members are dissenters.

I first visited the National or Church of England school. Eighty-one names were upon the roll and fifty in attendance at one of my visits. (Some little ones were at work in the fields, weeding, or perhaps hay-making.) Pupils may enter at two years. The printed form issued by government asks, “How many have you under three?” And by the obligatory law the schools can claim them at five.

Upon the walls of the school were several maps, a large printed copy of the Creed, large tablets of the Commandments, and little pictures from the Bible, with perhaps a few from natural history. The blackboard was an insignificant one, about four feet square. I observed the small amount of blackboard surface provided, and the youngest teacher said that in the British schools there is blackboard on the sides of the room.

There was in the school a little picture of the royal family. “We teach them loyalty to the queen,” said one of the teachers.

Connected with the school was an infant department. Here the blackboard measured about one foot by eighteen inches. There were a few objects upon the walls, but there seemed to me a general bareness of appliances for instruction.

This school is an endowed one, having fourteen acres of land; it has always been a National school, or one where the principles of the Church of England are taught. Five years ago it became a government school,—_i.e._, it has become an “efficient elementary school” under the government; it is examined by a government inspector, and for children coming up to the government standard the school receives a small sum in payment on each. These “results,” as they are called, all pass into the rector’s hands, as manager of the school, to be appropriated either toward the payment of teachers or for school apparatus. Here all apparatus is paid for from this fund.

For instruction of children farmers pay four cents a week for each child; others two. The parish pays for pauper children. The amount of the endowment and the government grant are not even enough, I am told, to pay the principal; and the two assistants are paid by the rector.

National or, in other words, Church of England schools are also visited by a diocesan inspector, appointed by the bishop to report their progress in “Holy Scripture, Prayer-Book, and Catechism.” This school having been reported very good last year, a gift of about seven dollars was made to the teacher and monitor.

Instruction must be given for four hundred sessions yearly, equivalent to two hundred days.

Some teachers in government schools receive pensions, but as the number of pensions in England and Scotland is limited to two hundred and seventy, there are not enough for all. Before leaving this school, I may mention that I made some inquiry about the chapel, which stood not far off. One of the teachers answered, “I know nothing about dissent; I never go into those places.”

* * * * *

The school in the other village of Stonea (Haddenham cum Stonea) was called the British school, and was much larger, having one hundred and forty pupils. The room was large and well lighted, and there was an appearance of thrift and animation in the scholars. It is not under the control of the Church of England; neither are members of that church excluded from its management. It is managed by a committee of seven, of whom two or three are members of the church. The services of the committee, including the secretary, are gratuitous. The school has an income of three hundred dollars, drawn from a gift in land, made many years ago for the free education of village-born children. This sum is supplemented by subscription. This school also is visited by the government inspector, and a certain sum is paid, according to the attainments of the children, called, as I have said, “the results.” The committee decides what shall be done with this sum.

The school funds are further supplemented thus: In the village the children pay two cents a week. Those out of the village pay, if laborers, four cents for the first child, and two for each of the others. Persons of means pay twelve cents a week, but there are very few such.

Members of the Society of Friends, “who have always been active in education,” raised a general subscription for building a new school-house, and the government added a grant; “the government would always thus assist to build a public school.”

Religious instruction is not obligatory here as in the National school; it is at the option of the committee, who have decided to have Bible instruction for the first hour in the morning. The government allows any one who brings a written request from his father to absent himself from this instruction. No such case has ever arisen here. It may in towns where there are Free-thinkers and Catholics.

This school is plentifully supplied with blackboards. The principal difference that I observed in instruction between this and some public ones I have known at home was in arithmetic. A series of six small practical arithmetics was in use. At the close of each were examination questions. Here is the last in Standard 6, the highest: “If 27 men build 54 roods of garden wall in 26 days, how many roods will 32 men, working equally well, build in 39 days?” Perhaps twice in a week they have mental arithmetic. Here is the last question in Standard 5, mental: “A yard at half a guinea an inch?”

These elementary schools in villages are mixed, or for both sexes; in towns they are not. By the act of 1870, a pupil must enter school at five (education being obligatory), and remain until thirteen. There are, however, six standards in the school, and a pupil who wishes to go to work sooner may demand a certificate if he has finished the fourth standard, and is not obliged to finish the term.

I asked of one of the teachers or monitors in this British school whether she had ever visited the other, the National school. She replied that she would not like to go there. She seemed to fear that she would be thought a spy. The rector does not visit this British school. “Unfortunately,” said one to me, “in our country the Church of England people think themselves above everybody else, and unless they can have the management of affairs will have nothing to do with them. The rector feels that he ought to have the management of the school, and is sore on that point; but it has been a successful school for forty years, and nothing that the rector can do can injure it.”

I asked, “Has the teacher of the National school ever visited this one?”

“No; where the rector does not go, his people may not. We have tried every means to unite with them, but without effect. All the exertions here are for the good of the school, but in the other village for the good of the church. They want a teacher who will serve them in the school, the Sunday-school, and the choir.”

But on this parish controversy a few words were spoken to me by a diligent member of the Established Church. He said, “The rector thinks he ought to be one of the trustees of the British school, as a bequest upon which it is in part founded says that the clergyman of the parish shall be one of the trustees, but they say that they will wait until the trusteeship is vacant.” The place was filled, I understood, by the former rector, who, as I have said, was described as a tiny little man; a clever, very learned man; a stanch liberal in politics, over eighty years of age.

* * * * *

Afterwards, in Manchester, I met a person who spoke further on the subject of public schools. I give what he said, as drawn from my notes, on his own authority; for although it does not especially concern the parish of Haddenham cum Stonea, yet it does the general subject of English schools.

He said that the members of the Church of England support National or Church of England schools. The Roman Catholics support their own. The dissenters support unsectarian British schools, which receive all denominations. There is yet another class of elementary ones, namely, School Board schools. These boards are elected by the rate- or tax-payers. The schools are established in districts where there are not enough others to educate the children. It not unfrequently happens that a Church school or a British one which is unable to support itself, in spite of the government assistance before described, is turned over by its conductors to the school board. In Manchester this board has now in its schools about two-fifths of the children.

If the board wishes to establish a new school it has first to obtain leave from the committee on education of the Privy Council, belonging to the general government or to the ministry for the time being. The policy of the government is to prevent school boards from supplanting the sectarian schools; they are only allowed to supplement them, and no matter how poor the sectarian school may be, there is no way of getting it closed so long as Her Majesty’s inspector pronounces it efficient. The reports of the inspectors show that Board schools are improving more rapidly than others.

When by the act of 1870 these schools were first established they were regarded by the conductors of the others with contempt, especially by those of the Roman Catholic and Church schools; but such has been their progress within this brief period that they are now regarded with jealousy.

As to the prices charged by the Board schools, they must submit the payment of their proposed fees to the committee of Privy Council. The others mentioned may charge up to eighteen cents a week for instruction.

If a private school be inefficient, the school board may prosecute the parents of the children. But this applies to schools which teach pupils at less than eighteen cents per week; such as the old “Dame schools,” now nearly extinct, at least in Manchester.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Ways of living in England differ from those I am accustomed to in points before mentioned, such as the large number of meals, and the short hours of farm labor. A Lancashire youth complained that they clemmed or starved him in America on three meals a day. In this rural region those who can afford it take four, tea being in the afternoon and supper before going to bed.

Of articles of furniture I especially noticed two. One of them, which is nearly universal in England and Ireland, is entirely out of date where I live. It is the old-fashioned dressing-glass, which swings in a frame and stands upon a table. I do not remember its absence in any house that could afford it. Another article that I saw more rarely, but in both England and Ireland, was the canopy over the head of the bed. Of one I saw the framework was of heavy wood, with curtains at the side running on rings. A straight piece of the same material hung down behind the head of the bed. At my hotel in Cork this canopy was of faded blue damask; at the carpenter’s in the village, of faded red, and above trimmed with heavy woollen fringe. A handsomer one was on my bed in London. Perhaps this canopy is all that remains of curtains that formerly surrounded the bed.

* * * * *

I have spoken of mangling as used in England. Mrs. Jackson, the carpenter’s wife, hired a woman to come to the house once a month to wash. It took them both two days to do it, and Mrs. Jackson paid regularly about twenty-four cents a day; or if the woman made a long day, twenty-eight. In harvest she must pay higher. (When Benton, the farmer with whom I boarded, heard me speak of our paying washer-women here seventy-five cents or a dollar, he said that before he would pay so much he would turn his shirt or throw it into a pool and give it a slop wash.)

After Mrs. Jackson’s clothes were dried she took them to a neighbor’s to be mangled. The mangle is not unlike a great wringer with rollers; and if the clothes are damp, it rolls them smooth. Mrs. Jackson’s neighbor allowed people to do their own mangling at “tuppence ha’penny or thruppence,” according to the size of the basket. This is a great saving of fuel, and Mrs. Jackson said that they look just as well.

* * * * *

Active sports seem to have more prominence in England than in our own country. At Haddenham I called toward evening at the teacher’s, and found that he had gone to play cricket. And young Benton, son of the farmer, had gone too. He seemed actively engaged in business, but one morning he was up early, as he wished to go that day to a cricket-match, eleven miles distant. At Benton’s, mention was made of one of their relatives, who had been much given to cricket and other sports, and who had gone to Canada. He said that if he had worked as hard in England as he did in America, he would have got on there.

Yet Benton, the farmer, thinks it strange that I do not want to see the races in their county town.

Skating is a favorite amusement. On a meadow near by, which is always covered with water in the winter, they have skating-matches. On the fens are great skaters, I hear, and people come from all parts to compete with them.

* * * * *

One of the strongest evidences of a higher state of civilization than ours (and perhaps of a different climate) is that Mrs. Benton, the farmer’s wife, told me that she had never seen a man without stockings in her life. All the children in the British school (I think in both schools) wore both shoes and stockings, and some woollen stockings, though the month was July. However, the teacher said that in the north of England children go barefoot; and I had just come from Ireland, where I had heard of laborers’ children that passed the winter without stockings or shoes.

* * * * *

In our own country I had read or heard of English farmers who rode in handsome vehicles, who wore silk hats, who occasionally drank champagne. But great farmers, cultivating hundreds of acres, must be capitalists. Of course there will be less luxury in straitened times. I heard, however, that a respectable farmer would never go to church, or especially to a funeral, places where he wished to show respect, without a silk hat. At market he might wear one of felt or straw.

Other matters being equal, the retired farmer is more nearly one of the gentry than the retired tradesman. In the parish of Haddenham cum Stonea, where I dwelt, perhaps the only person that came within that charmed circle, the nobility and gentry, was the rector of the church, and he did not stand high in it. I heard of the daughters of one clergyman who invited another to dine, and told him that it would be a nice party, “nobody who did not keep a footman or lady’s-maid.” If a distinguished dissenting minister like Spurgeon should come to a country town to lecture, in all probability he would not be socially noticed by the nobility and gentry.

A young Englishwoman told me that her sister, who lived in our country, said that the Americans are more polite than the English; and two Englishmen who had travelled here spoke of the many attentions which they had received.

* * * * *

In this region of eastern England villages are found bearing names derived from the Saxon. I have called this parish Haddenham cum Stonea. The syllable ham comes from the Saxon, and means a dwelling, hence our word home. The syllable _ea_, in Stonea, means water.

Said the dissenting minister, “There is no part of England where the people are freer and more independent in thought than in these eastern counties of Norfolk, Suffolk, Huntingdon, and parts of Cambridge and Lincoln.” And he inferred that from these counties our Pilgrim fathers must have sprung. About fifty miles from the parish I describe lies the city of Boston, from which came Mr. Cotton, the preacher in whose honor our own city of Boston was named.

“The last struggles of the Anglo-Saxons against the Normans were in these counties,” said one. “At Ely, then an island in the centre of the fens, Hereward fortified himself for a while, and made the last struggles against the Normans.”

An acquaintance who had visited America remarked to me that the district of Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire, where we were, is typically agricultural; that there are very few resident gentry; therefore the social life of this region more resembles that of the United States than does that of most other sections of England.

In this county of Huntingdonshire was born Oliver Cromwell, and at its town of St. Ives he lived. In this section he probably raised his celebrated soldiers called Ironsides. But the conservatives of England do not admire Cromwell. About twenty years ago in his native county it was found impossible to raise means to erect his statue.[169]

* * * * *

On this side of the county are no county families bearing the title Esquire. ⸺ Farrar, Esq., north of us, is a great landed proprietor, with an income of about two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. The Earl of S. and the Duke of M. are also large landed proprietors. The Duke of Bedford owns an estate in Thorny Fen of perhaps ten to fifteen thousand acres. My friend who tells me this thinks that the estate, however, is in another county from this. He understands that the duke expects each tenant to take one thousand acres and to keep a hunter. The duke is a liberal in politics.

The subject of politics was alluded to in the opening of this article, in the remarks of Jackson, the carpenter. Another acquaintance said, “If you go to a nobleman or great landed proprietor to rent a farm, you must be deferential and, as a general thing, you must vote on his side. If a man is a liberal, he must go under a liberal landlord; and if a tory, under a tory. Perhaps one-third of the House of Lords are liberals,” he added.

Benton, the farmer, did not tell me his political opinions. He said that the ballot is secret. But he added that a man’s political opinions have not now anything to do with renting the land.

But a person whom I afterward met in Manchester said that the agricultural districts were in the main thoroughly tory, the farmers being dependent on the landlords. He added that the late Lord Derby used to say, “Tell me what the landlords are and I will tell you what the vote will be.”

* * * * *

Haddenham cum Stonea has declined in population. In 1840 the parish had nearly one thousand four hundred inhabitants. It now has about one thousand. Many went to America; now many go north into the manufacturing regions. Nor are these two villages alone in this. Jackson, the carpenter, told me of one where he had lived which, at the last census, had three hundred and thirty people. Twenty years back, he said, it had over five hundred.

Public-houses are numerous in these villages. They are mostly simple ale-houses, with such titles as the Three Horse-Shoes, the Rose and Crown, the Three Jolly Butchers. I counted at least eleven in a village of less than seven hundred people.

The wages of a farm-laborer here are under two dollars and seventy-five cents a week, and he boards himself. The cottagers on the farm where I boarded got their houses free and a rood of ground in which to plant potatoes. While at Haddenham I visited a friend in a near village, who took me to ride upon the fens, and her husband particularly desired her to show me some cottages, or laborers’ houses, that he had built. The point that I was especially to observe was the rooms provided for sleeping, there being a bedroom down-stairs and two or more above. On this subject I spoke to Mrs. Benton, the farmer’s wife, who said that the laborers here have generally a kitchen, I believe a better room, and two chambers. She admitted that the boys and girls have to sleep in the same room.

Mrs. Benton said that if the laborer’s wife, who has a number of young children, is kind and considerate of her husband, she will try to provide him a bit of meat daily, but it will be but a little bit; and the children will not taste meat oftener than once a week.

As I have before intimated, hours of labor are easy,—farm hands getting half an hour for lunch, and an hour for dinner. (But I cannot say whether this lunch-time is allowed at other than harvest.) In hay and harvest they work overtime, and are paid for overwork.

Fruit-picking was going on while I was at Haddenham. In fruit-gathering times, when the wives and boys get out a little, meat may be more plentiful in laborers’ houses. There is a great press at fruit-gathering. The people go out in gangs about six or seven o’clock, and return about seven. The wages are about thirty-two cents a day. A market for the fruit is furnished by the manufacturing regions, where farm produce is more scarce.

At Haddenham I heard that after harvest they have a thanksgiving festival. There is a village flower-show in the rectory grounds and a public tea. They deck the church with wheat, barley, oats, beans, grapes, apples, and pears, and have a service in the evening. A collection is taken up for the county hospital, which is supported almost entirely by voluntary subscription.

To return once more to education. It is now compulsory, as I have said; but a friend estimated that of the people over thirty, a large proportion could not read and write.

PECULIARITIES OF SPEECH.

To us that one by which the English drop the letter h where it belongs, and put it on where it does not, is one of the most striking; as, Harable land is ’eavier taxed; my huncle is not very ’ealthy.

Two ways of speaking that are called Yankee with us are found here; one is the sharp _ou_.

“Please tell me,” I inquired, “where Mr. G.’s house is.”

“It’s the last hayoose in tayoon; a big hayoose,” answered the boy.

The other “Yankee” peculiarity is dropping the letter r. School-children said ’osses for horses. Buttah was said for butter, and Hemmingford sounded like Emmenfauld. A woman spoke of a certain Mr. Halbut. I had thought that his name was Wiseman. Yes; Mr. Halbut (Albert) Wiseman.

Comin’ I heard for coming; they used to say shay-house for chaise-house; and I am told that in Norfolk they say _du_ and _tu_ for do and to.

The carpenter’s wife said, “The bread is silly,” meaning heavy.

A spinney is a grove.

Laboring men call a lunch a dockey; and in another neighborhood a beaver.

Said an innkeeper, “The people come to flit them,”—to help them move.

Frequently “I dare say” becomes _dessay_, or _I’d say_.

We say to-day; they also say to-year. And when it begins to thaw, they say the weather is ungiving, it ungives.

APPENDIX.

THE PENNSYLVANIA GERMAN DIALECT.

The “Pennsylvania Dutch,” which is spoken over a large portion of our own State, and is also heard in Maryland, Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, is not divided into dialects as are the languages of many European countries, but seems to be nearly homogeneous. The following specimen was taken from the lips of a working-woman born in Cumberland County, Pennsylvania, of German descent, but who learned most of her “Dutch” in the State of Maryland. She now lives in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. An English article was read to her; and with some little difficulty she turned it into the version given. This version was submitted to a learned gentleman born in the eastern part of this State, but now living in Lancaster, and he declared it to be a good specimen of Pennsylvania German. I have abbreviated it, and give the English first, so that the difficulty may be observed which the translator found in the version.

“At Millville, New Jersey, about noon, while everybody in town was going to dinner, a deer came dashing down through the main street, and right behind it followed a dozen dogs, barking the loudest they knew how. Every dog on the line of the chase joined in, so that when the edge of the town was reached there were nearly fifty dogs after the deer. One solitary horseman caught on to the procession before it left town, and he was soon followed by a score of others, and inside of half an hour there were only women and factory hands left in the town. The deer got into the woods and escaped. A hound, which a merchant sent to Philadelphia for on Thursday, brought the deer to bay, and the merchant’s son fired the fatal shot.”

“_An Millville, New Jersey, about Mitdog, wie all die Leit in der Stadt zu Mittag gange sin, en Hayrsch is darrich die main Schtross schprunge, und recht hinne noch ein dutzet Hund noch schprunge, und hen so laut gejolt als sie hen könne. All die Hund in der Schtadt sind oof die Geschpoor und sin noch; so wie sie an die End von der Schtadt sin der ware about fufzig Hund am Hayrsch noch. Ein ehnzige Reiter ist noch eh sie aus der Schtadt kumme sind und es ware gly zwanzig meh, und in weniger als en Halb-stund da war Niemand meh in der Schtadt als Wipesleit und die factory Hendt. Der Hayrsch ist in der Busch kumme und sie hen ihn verlore. En Houns voo ein Merchant in Philadelphia geschickt hat dafore, hat den Hayrsch schtill schteh mache; und der Merchant sei Sohn hat ihn dote schosse._”

But although the Pennsylvania German is not divided into the great number of dialects or varieties found in Europe (I hear that there are about fifty in little Switzerland), yet there are differences here in the spoken dialect. While visiting at the house of a gentleman born in Lehigh County, but living in Lebanon, the following were pointed out to me. In Lehigh a lantern is a _lutzer_; in Lebanon, _lattern_. In the former the word for orchard is _boongart_; in the latter, _bomegarte_. Meadow is _Schwamm_ in the former, and _Viss_ in the latter. The adverb _orrick_ (_arg_) is very much used in Pennsylvania German; but a clergyman coming to live in Lebanon County was reproved by some of his plain friends for its use. Perhaps it is nearly synonymous with our _darned_,—“That’s darned cheap.” Der _Arge_ in the Bible is the evil one.

Mr. Weiser, of the Reformed Church, finds differences in adjoining counties. Thus, in Berks a set of bars in a fence is _en Falder_; in Montgomery, _E’fahrt_ (or a place to drive through). In Lehigh they say of a drunken man, “_Er hat e Kischt ah_” (he carries a chest); but this is not heard in the near parts of Montgomery. Tomatoes are sometimes, I think, called _Goomeranze_ in Allentown, and in Bucks County _Boomeranze_ (from _Pomeranze_, an orange); but this is not heard in Lancaster County.

A learned German in Philadelphia says that several different dialects have flowed like streams into Pennsylvania,—one the Palatinate, another the Suabian, a third Allemanian, a fourth Swiss; and Prof. Dubbs, of Franklin and Marshall College, Lancaster, but born in Allentown, finds in the region with which he is familiar, east of the Susquehanna, three plainly marked sub-dialects. The one east of the Schuylkill is marked by the diminutive _chen_ in the place of _lein_. In that district a little pig is called _Säuche_, and west of the Schuylkill _Säulie_ (for _Säulein_). A third sub-dialect, he says, is peculiar to some of the sects of Lancaster County. It is probably of Swiss origin, and is marked by a broad drawl. (The late Prof. Haldeman remarked that in our dialect the perfect is used for the imperfect tense, as in Swiss; so that for “ich sagte” (I said) we have “ich hab ksaat” (gesagt), and for “ich hatte” (I had) we have “ich hab kat” (gehabt)).

(The following excellent remarks on the Pennsylvania dialect are taken from an article in the _Mercersburg Review_ by Prof. Stahr, now also of Franklin and Marshall College, Lancaster. I have made some trifling alterations, mostly in parenthesis.)

“It is of course impossible in our present limits to specify all the peculiarities of Pennsylvania German, so as to give an adequate idea of its form to those who are not familiar with it. We may, however, state a few general principles, which will enable any one conversant with High German to read and understand the dialect without difficulty. In the first place it must be borne in mind that the letters have the _South German_ sound: _a_ has the broad sound like the English _aw_; _st_ and _sp_ whenever they occur sound broad, like _scht_ and _schp_, etc. Secondly, letters are commuted or changed. Instead of the proper sound of the modified vowel or _Umlaut ō_, we find the sound of the German _ē_ or the English _ā_, and instead of _ü_ we find _ie_ or _i_, equivalent to the English _i_ in _machine_, or the same shortened as in pin. Instead of the proper sound of _eu_, we have the German _ei_ or the English _ī_. Instead of _au_, particularly when it undergoes modification in inflections, we have broad _a_ or _aa_ in the unmodified, and _ä_ or _āā_ in the modified, form. Thus we have _Baam_ for _Baum_, and _Bääm’_ for _Baüme_; _laafe’_ for _laufen_, and _laaft_ or _lääft_ for _laüft_. The diphthong ei is often changed into long _e_ or _ee_. Thus for _Stein_ we have _Stee’_ (pronounced Shtay), for _Bein_, _Bee’_, for _Eid_ we have _Eed_, for _Leid_, _Leed_. _A_ is often changed into _o_, as _Johr_ for _Jahr_, _Hoor_ for _Haar_; _i_ is changed into _e_, as _werd_ for _wird_ (_Es wird Schlimm_ is spoken _Schvate schlimm_), _Hert_ for _Hirt_, etc. Consonants are also frequently changed; _b_ into _w_ (_Bievel_ is heard for Bibel), _p_ into _b_, _t_ into _d_, etc. Thirdly, words are shortened by dropping the terminations, especially _n_ of the infinitive or generally after _e_. Prefixes are frequently contracted, so also compound words. Thus instead of _werden_, _folgen_, _fangen_, we have _werre’_, _folge’_, _fange’_; _einmal_ becomes _emol_; _nicht mehr_, _nimme_, etc. Fourthly, the Pennsylvania dialect uses High German words in a different sense. Thus for _Pferd_, horse, we have _Gaul_, which in High German means a heavy farm-horse or an old horse; _gleiche_, from the High German _gleichen_, to resemble, means in the Pennsylvania dialect, to like; _gucke’_, from High German _gucken_, to peep, to pry, means to look. Finally, we find English words introduced in their full form, either with or without German prefixes and modifications; e.g., _Store_ (Schtore), _Rüles_, _Cäpers_, _Circumstänces_, _trävele_, _stärte_, _fixe_, _fighte_.

“Nouns have scarcely any changes of form, except to distinguish singular and plural. These, where they exist, are the same as in High German. One of the most striking peculiarities is this: the genitive case is never used to indicate possession, the dative is used in connection with a possessive pronoun. Thus instead of _Der Hut des Mannes_ (the hat of the man) we find _Dem Mann sei’ Hut_ (to the man his hat).... The definite article is used for _dieser_, _diese_, _dieses_ (this), and _seller_, _selle_, _sell_, for _jener_, _jene_, _jenes_ (that). The adverb _wo_ is used instead of the relatives _welcher_, _welche_, _welches_.

“In inflecting pronouns, _mir_ is used instead of _wir_ (us). The verb has no imperfect tense; the perfect is always used for it in Pennsylvania German. (And it will be observed, I think, that those accustomed to speaking the dialect will use the perfect thus in English.)

“From _wollen_ we have: _Ich will_, _du witt_, _er will_, _mir wolle’_, _ihr wolle’_, _sie wolle’_; and from _haben_: _Ich hab_, _du hoscht_, _er hot_, _mir hen_ (from han, haben), _ihr hen_, _sie hen_.”

* * * * *

The number of writers in the dialect is becoming numerous. There are Mr. Zimmermann and Dr. Bruner, of Berks County, Rev. F. J. F. Schantz, originally of Lehigh, and Rev. Eli Keller and Mr. Henninger of the same; also Miss Bahn and Mr. H. L. Fisher, of York County. The most popular writer is the late Henry Harbaugh, of the Reformed Church, whose poems are collected under the title _Harbaugh’s Harfe_. Among them the favorite is _Das alt Schulhaus an der Krick_. (The old school-house on the creek.) In publishing this volume, the English words introduced after the manner of our Pennsylvania Germans have been generally replaced by German, so that it is not a perfect specimen of the spoken language. Here follow a few lines from Harbaugh’s _Heimweh_, or Homesickness:

“Wie gleich ich selle Babble-Beem!
Sie schtehn wie Brieder dar;
Un uf’m Gippel—g’wiss ich leb!
Hock’t alleweil ’n Schtaar!
’S Gippel biegt sich—guk, wie’s gaunscht,
’R hebt sich awer fescht;
Ich seh sei rothe Fliegle plehn
Wann er sei Feddere wescht;
Will wette, dass sei Fraale hot
Uf sellem Baam ’n Nescht.”

How well I love those poplar-trees,
That stand like brothers there!
And on the top, as sure’s I live,
A blackbird perches now.
The top is bending, how it swings!
But still the bird holds fast.
How plain I saw his scarlet wings
When he his feathers dressed!
I’ll bet you on that very tree
His deary has a nest.

The most witty prose articles that I have met are some in Wollenweber’s _Gemälde aus dem Pennsylvanischen Volkleben_. (Pictures of Pennsylvania Life.)

Mr. E. H. Rauch (Pit Schwefflebrenner) accommodates himself to the great number of our “Dutch” people who do not read German by writing the dialect phonetically, in this manner: “_Der klea meant mer awer, sei net recht g’sund for er kreisht ols so greisel-heftict orrick (arg) in der nacht. De olt Lawbucksy behawpt es is was mer aw gewocksa heast, un meant mer set braucha derfore. Se sawya es waer an olty fraw drivva im Lodwaerrickshteddle de kennt’s aw wocksa ferdreiv mit warta, im aw so a g’schmeer hut was se mocht mit gensfet._” (The little one seems to me not to be quite well, for he cries so dreadfully in the night. Old Mrs. Lawbucks maintains that he is what we call grown (enlargement of the liver), and thinks that I should powwow for it. She says that there was an old woman in Apple-butter town who knew how to drive away the growth with words, and who has too an ointment that she makes with goose-fat.)

I have already stated that our Pennsylvania dialect has been thought to be formed from different European sources; but Mr. H. L. Fisher, of York, has lately shown me a collection of Nadler’s poems in the Palatinate dialect, which, he says, more nearly resemble our idiom than anything else which he has seen. Also at Allentown, Mr. Dubbs, of the Reformed Church, has mentioned a collection which he thinks resembles much our Pennsylvania German. It is the poems of Ludwig Schandein, in the Westrich dialect. These are both dialects of the Rhenish Palatinate, the former of the district on the Rhine, the latter of the western or more mountainous part. And as the Germans coming into Pennsylvania were at one time called Palatines, it is not remarkable that these Palatinate dialects resemble ours. Here is a specimen of the eastern or lowland dialect:

“Yetz erscht waasz i’s, yetz erscht glaaw i’s,
Was mar in de Lieder singt;
Yetz erscht glaaw i’s, dann jetz waasz i’s,
Dasz die Lieb aam Schmerze bringt.

“Nachdigalle dhune schlage,
Dasz ’s dorch Berg un Dhäler klingt;
Unser Bawrebuwe awwer
Dasz aam’s Herz im Leib verschpringt!”

At last I know, at last believe it,
That what our poets sing is so;
At last I think, yes, now I know it,
That love brings also pain and woe.

The nightingales so sweetly warble,
Their notes through hill and dale do ring;
But oh! the heart in the breast is riven
Whene’er our peasant boys do sing!

Here is a specimen from Schandein’s poems in the Westrich dialect:

“So lewe wul, ehr liewe Alte,
Do i’s mei’ Hann, Glick uf die Rês!
De’ liewe Herrgott losze walte,
Dann Er es wul am beschte wêsz;
Un machen euch kê’ Gram und Sorje
Ya denken an ihn alle Dah:
Er sorgt jo heut, er sorgt ah morje,
Er sorgt ah in Amerika.”

Dr. Dubbs, of Franklin and Marshall College, has kindly given me this verse from his own translation:

“Farewell! and here’s my hand, old neighbors!
May blessings on your journey rest!
Leave God to order all the future,
For He alone knows what is best.
And do not yield to grief or sorrow,
Trust in His mercy day by day;
He reigns to-day, he reigns to-morrow,
He reigns too in America.”

Various estimates have been given me of the numbers speaking the dialect in different parts of our State. Thus a lawyer in York County, beyond the Susquehanna, says that there are still witnesses coming to court, natives of the county, who do not speak English, and whose testimony is translated by an interpreter. Crossing the Susquehanna easterly, we come to my own county, Lancaster. My own neighborhood, near the Pennsylvania Central Railway, is much Anglicized. The southern part of the county is greatly “English,” but as I was riding lately in the north, on the railway which connects Reading in Berks, to Columbia in Lancaster, a conductor estimated that along the forty-six miles of the railway about nine out of ten of the travellers can speak German. In Reading I am told in a lawyer’s office that three-fourths of the women who come in to do business speak “Pennsylvania Dutch.” My tavern-keeper says that many come to his house, born in the county, who cannot speak English. Another lawyer estimates that of the country people born in Berks County, three-fourths would rather speak Pennsylvania German than English; and another thinks that in the rural districts of the county from one-half to two-thirds prefer to speak the dialect, although perhaps half of these can talk English. Another person says that when there is a circus or county fair at Reading, which draws the farmers’ families, you hardly hear English, for the store-keepers accommodate themselves to the visitors. One of my friends, born in Germany, says that she saw at a forge in Berks County colored people, men, women, and children, that could not speak English; they spoke Pennsylvania German. If, now, we pass northerly to Lehigh County, we come to “Pennsylvania Dutch” land par _excellence_, for in no other county of our State are the people so nearly of unmixed German origin. I am told of Allentown, the county seat, with a population of about nineteen thousand, that Pennsylvania German, “Dutch,” is the prevailing language. A lawyer estimates that more than one-fourth of its inhabitants do not speak English if they can help it, and a considerable number in town, born in this region, do not speak English at all. Of the county, a physician says that three-fourths of the people speak Pennsylvania German more easily than English, and another that nearly all the country people would rather speak the dialect.

East of Lehigh lies another very German county, Northampton. The county town Easton is, however, connected with New Jersey by a bridge over the Delaware, and Easton is to a very considerable degree Anglicized. Easton is the seat of a great Presbyterian institution, Lafayette College; yet a professor tells me that the Presbyterian Church cannot overcome the Lutheran and Reformed element. The Lutheran Church, he says, is very strong. Of the same county I was told some years ago that the people generally spoke German, except along the New Jersey line, and that outside of Easton and Bethlehem three-fourths of the people are Reformed and Lutheran. At the same period, about nine years ago, a physician told me that the public-school teachers in the rural parts must necessarily speak German for the children to obtain ideas, or must interpret English to them. These counties, with Lebanon, six in number, are the great German ones, beginning with York on the southwest, and ending with Northampton on the northeast; but the Pennsylvania German population is by no means confined to these counties. It spreads along the cultivated soil like grass. Adjoining Berks and Lehigh is Montgomery, the northern part of which is very “Dutch.” Here I visited a preacher of one of our plain sects, whose great-grandfather came from Germany. But he, himself, speaks very little or no English, and he employed the ticket-agent to answer an English letter. One son and his children live under the same roof, making six generations in Pennsylvania; but the whole household uses the German dialect.

It must not be supposed of a large part of the Pennsylvania Germans that they are unacquainted with pure German. A simple and pure German they find in the Bible and in their German newspapers, of which there are several, altogether enjoying a large circulation. Also, at least in the Reformed and Lutheran Churches, there are many ministers who preach in pure German. Yet, when the minister goes to dine with a parishioner, they generally speak the dialect. The minister who speaks this to his flock is more popular. They could understand the higher German; but they say of him when he speaks the dialect, “_Er iss en gemehner Mann_” (He is a common, plain man, or one who doesn’t put on airs.)

A gentleman in Lebanon, born in Berks, told me that he should be pleased to speak German as it is in the Bible. “But,” he added, “as soon as a person begins to use pure German here among his acquaintances the Pennsylvania Dutch will say, ‘_Des iss ane Fratz-Hans_,’ or a high-flown fellow; or, as it may be rendered, ‘He’s full of conceit.’”

One of the most amusing things in the dialect is the adopting and transforming of English words, as “Ich habe en Prediger _entgetscht_,”—I have engaged a preacher; “Do hat der _Eirisch_ gemehnt er wott _triede_,”—the Irishman thought he would treat; “Sie henn en guter _Tietscher_ katt, der hot die Kinner vieler Leut _getietscht_,”—they had a good teacher, who taught the children of many people; “Ich will dir’s _exsplehne_,”—I will explain it to you; “Er hat mich _inweitet_,”—he invited me; “Do hen sie anfange _ufzukotte_ und zu lache,”—then they began to cut up and laugh. A workman who was tired of waiting for material said, “Sie hen us nau lang genug ’rum _gebaffelt_”—they have baffled or disappointed us long enough.

On the amount of English that is sometimes introduced into the dialect, a lawyer in Lebanon says that of the Pennsylvania Dutch which he uses in his political speeches, or in his practice, fully one-third is English. This specimen was given to me by a lawyer in Allentown, as the opening of a political speech: “Ich bin desirous um euch zu explaine die prerogative powers fum President.” And this a lawyer to his client: “Ich bin certain das die Opinion was ich den morge geexpress hab, correct war.”

Before leaving the subject of the idiom, I give some of the peculiar expressions heard in speaking English. A neighbor told me of her daughter’s being invited to a picnic, and added, “I don’t know what I’ll wear on her.”

Said a tavern-keeper’s wife, “Don’t jine sweeping.” “It’s time to jine sweeping,” was the reply.

A girl got into a car near Mauch Chunk, and had headache.

“Don’t sit with your back to the engine,” I suggested.

“Do you sink?” she asked me. (Do you think so?)

“I guess it will give a gust,” is said in Lancaster County.

“Do you want butter-bread?” (or bread and butter.) “No, I’d rather have coffee-soup,”—_i.e._, bread broken into coffee.

“Mary, come down to the woods.” “I dassent.” She does not mean that she is afraid, but that she is not permitted, like the German _durfen_.

“I’m perfectly used to travel every _wich_ way.”

“A body gets _dired_ if they _dravel_.”

“Mind Ressler? He was in Sprecher’s still;” or, “Do you remember Ressler? He used to be employed in Sprecher’s store.”

“It’s raining a’ready, mother,” or, “Where’s Mrs. M.?” “She went to bed a’ready.”

“I guess that Mrs. B. does not spend all her income.”

“She didn’t still.”

“She’d rather be married to him _as_ to keep house for him” (like the German _als_).

We think those very “Dutch” who say “Sess” for Seth, “bass-house” for bath-house. Thus it would be, Beslem is in Norsampton County.

“I’m fetching a pig. I had it bestowed.”

“We’re getting strangers, and I was fetched.” (They are expecting company at our house, and they sent for me to come home.)

“Mrs. M., how does your garden grow?” “Just so middlin’.”

“Your head is strubly,” means that your hair is tumbled.

A scientific friend, wishing to examine a specimen, said, “Let me see it once.”

Of the same kind are these: “When we get moved once.” “You’ll know what it is when you hain’t got no father no more once.” (This use of _once_ has been alluded to in the text.)

“Mother, don’t be so cross!” “I ought to be cross” (angry).

I do not know that it is “Dutch” to say, “Did you kiss your _poppy_?” or, “Barbara, where’s your _pap_?” (for father).

“How are you, Chrissly?” (diminutive of Christian.) “Oh! I’ve got it so in the back.”

Those who live among Pennsylvania Germans cannot fail to observe that when they, speaking English, make mention of a couple, as, “She gave me a couple of peaches,” they do not generally mean two only. Couple has doubtless to them the same meaning as the German word _Paar_, which is defined by Whitney “a couple, two or three, a few, sundry.”

I cannot tell the deviation of our interjection of pain, _Owtch!_

_Ok!_ is doubtless the German _Ach!_ or is it Irish?

And what is the derivation of “_Sahdie?_” so much used by children for “Thank you.”

There is a word neither of English nor German origin which is sometimes used as a salutation by Pennsylvania Germans. It is familiarly _Hottiay_. Few would divine to see it thus that it is the French adieu.

PROPER NAMES.

Changes equally remarkable are found in proper names. The family of my own neighbor Johns was originally Tschantz, as is more easily perceived by the pronunciation; Johns ending with the s sound and not the z. The important family in Lancaster County named Carpenter were Zimmerman when they came in, the name being translated. But of a family in Berks County, some are Hunter and some Yäger. Some persons named Bender, who have removed to California, are there called Painter.

It is surprising in Pennsylvania to hear of persons with Irish or Scottish names who can scarcely speak English. A gentleman in Harrisburg told me of one he knew in Dauphin County named Hamilton (whose father was born in Dublin), and of two others named Dougherty. I have met in Berks County a person with a purely Scottish name who spoke of Norsampton County, and of Souss Reading (not pronouncing the th). But his mother was of a German family, and “Pennsylvania Dutch” his mother-tongue.

A lawyer in York, with an English name, tells me that his ancestors came from New England, and settled first in the Wyoming Valley, but some moved southward, and by intermarriage, to use, I think, his own expression, became quite Dutchified. He himself can speak the dialect.

Several families with French names are now not to be distinguished from the Pennsylvania Germans among whom they live and intermarry. It is said that the Bushongs were once Beauchamp; then probably the Deshongs were Du Champ. The Shopells were Chapelle; the Levans perhaps Levin. Delaplaine is pronounced _Dillyplen_. There are still Bertolettes, De Bennevilles, De Turks, De Planks, Philippes, Philippis, and Philippys. Coquelin has become Cockley and Gockley. These families were perhaps French Huguenots who sought refuge in Germany, where so many went on the revocation of the edict of Nantes. From the Palatinate came very many of our Pennsylvania Germans, and that state is directly east of France.

But it is also probable that many French names were translated when their owners removed to Germany. One of my acquaintances in Philadelphia is a German, born in the Palatinate. She tells me that her grandfather left France during the revolution. He was a Mennonite, and named Coquerel; but this was translated into Hähnchen; so that my friend was a Miss Hähnchen. Coquerel, Hähnchen, and our English word cockerel are synonymous.