Nights with Uncle Remus (50 page)

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Authors: Joel Chandler Harris

BOOK: Nights with Uncle Remus
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“Now, Uncle Remus,
please
don't go back. I was just playing.”
Uncle Remus's anger was all pretence, but he managed to make it very impressive.
“My playin' days done gone too long ter talk about. When I plays, I plays wid wuk, dat w'at I plays wid.”
“Well,” said the child, who had tactics of his own, “if I can't play with you, I don't know who I am to play with.”
This touched Uncle Remus in a very tender spot. He stopped in the path, took off his spectacles, wiped the glasses on his coat-tail, and said very emphatically:
“Now den, honey, des lissen at me. How de name er goodness kin you call dat playin', w'ich er little mo' en I'd er fell down on top er my head, en broke my neck en yone too?”
The child promised that he would be very good, and Uncle Remus picked him up, and the two made their way to where the negroes had congregated. They were greeted with cries of “Dar's Unk Remus!” “Howdy, Unk Remus!” “Yer dey is!” “Ole man Remus don't sing; but w'en he do sing—gentermens! des go 'way!”
All this and much more, so that when Uncle Remus had placed the little boy upon a corner of the platform, and made him comfortable, he straightened himself with a laugh and cried out:
“Howdy, boys! howdy all! I des come up fer ter jine in wid you fer one 'roun' fer de sakes er ole times, ef no mo'.”
“I boun' fer Unk Remus!” some one said. “Now des hush en let Unk Remus 'lone!” exclaimed another.
The figure of the old man, as he stood smiling upon the crowd of negroes, was picturesque in the extreme. He seemed to be taller than all the rest; and, notwithstanding his venerable appearance, he moved and spoke with all the vigor of youth. He had always exercised authority over his fellow-servants. He had been the captain of the cornpile, the stoutest at the log-rolling, the swiftest with the hoe, the neatest with the plough, and the plantation hands still looked upon him as their leader.
Some negro from the River place had brought a fiddle, and, though it was a very feeble one, its screeching seemed to annoy Uncle Remus.
“Put up dat ar fiddle!” he exclaimed, waving his hand. “Des put 'er up; she sets my toof on aidje. Put 'er up en less go back ter ole times. Dey aint no room fer no fiddle 'roun' yer, kaze w'en you gits me started dat ar fiddle won't be nowhars.”
“Dat's so,” said the man with the fiddle, and the irritating instrument was laid aside.
“Now, den,” Uncle Remus went on, “dey's a little chap yer dat you'll all come ter know mighty well one er deze odd-come-shorts, en dish yer little chap aint got so mighty long fer ter set up 'long wid us. Dat bein' de case we oughter take'n put de bes' foot fo'mus' fer ter commence wid.”
“You lead, Unk Remus! You des lead en we'll foller.”
Thereupon the old man called to the best singers among the negroes and made them stand near him. Then he raised his right hand to his ear and stood perfectly still. The little boy thought he was listening for something, but presently Uncle Remus began to slap himself gently with his left hand, first upon the leg and then upon the breast. The other negroes kept time to this by a gentle motion of their feet, and finally, when the thump—thump—thump of this movement had regulated itself to suit the old man's fancy, he broke out with what may be called a Christmas dance song.
His voice was strong, and powerful, and sweet, and its range was as astonishing as it volume. More than this, the melody to which he tuned it, and which was caught up by a hundred voices almost as sweet and as powerful as his own, was charged with a mysterious and pathetic tenderness.
The fine company of men and women at the big house—men and women who had made the tour of all the capitals of Europe—listened with swelling hearts and with tears in their eyes as the song rose and fell upon the air—at one moment a tempest of melody, at another a heartbreaking strain breathed softly and sweetly to the gentle winds. The song that the little boy and the fine company heard was something like this—ridiculous enough when put in cold type, but powerful and thrilling when joined to the melody with which the negroes had invested it:
My Honey, My Love
Hit's a mighty fur ways up de Far'well Lane, My honey, my love!
You may ax Mister Crow, you may ax Mr. Crane, My honey, my love!
Dey'll make you a bow, en dey'll tell you de same, My honey, my love!
Hit's a mighty fur ways fer to go in de night, My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight—My honey, my love!
 
Mister Mink he creep twel he wake up de snipe, My honey, my love!
Mister Bull-Frog holler,
Come-a-light my pipe,
My honey, my love!
En de Pa'tridge ax,
Aint yo' peas ripe?
My honey, my love!
Better not walk erlong dar much atter night, My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight—My honey, my love!
De Bully-Bat fly mighty close ter de groun', My honey, my love!
Mister Fox, he coax 'er,
Do come down!
My honey, my love!
Mister Coon, he rack all 'roun' en 'roun', My honey, my love!
In de darkes' night, oh, de nigger, he's a sight! My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight—My honey, my love!
 
Oh, flee, Miss Nancy, flee ter my knee, My honey, my love!
'Lev'm big fat coons lives in one tree, My honey, my love!
Oh, ladies all, won't you marry me? My honey, my love!
Tu'n lef', tu'n right, we 'ull dance all night, My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight—My honey, my love!
 
De big Owl holler en cry fer his mate, My honey, my love!
Oh, don't stay long! Oh, don't stay late! My honey, my love!
Hit aint so mighty fur ter de Good-by Gate, My honey, my love!
Whar we all got ter go w'en we sing out de night, My honey, my love!
My honey, my love, my heart's delight—My honey, my love!
 
After a while the song was done, and other songs were sung; but it was not long before Uncle Remus discovered that the little boy was fast asleep. The old man took the child in his arms and carried him to the big house, singing softly in his ear all the way; and somehow or other the song seemed to melt and mingle in the youngster's dreams. He thought he was floating in the air, while somewhere near all the negroes were singing, Uncle Remus's voice above all the rest; and then, after he had found a resting-place upon a soft warm bank of clouds, he thought he heard the songs renewed. They grew fainter and fainter in his dream until at last (it seemed) Uncle Remus leaned over him and sang GOOD NIGHT.
1
.
Uncle Remus; His Songs and His Sayings. The Folk-Lore of the Old Plantation.
New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1880. [This and all subsequent footnotes in
Nights
are Harris's own.]
2
.
Amazonian Tortoise Myths,
pp. 2 and 3.
3
. P. 10.
4
.
Kaffir Folk-Lore; or, A selection from the Traditional Tales current among the people living on the Eastern Border of the Cape Colony.
London, 1882.
5
.
Kaffir Folk-Lore,
p. 43.
6
. Professor Hartt, in his “Amazonian Tortoise Myths,” relates the story of “The Jabuti that Cheated the Man.” The Jabuti is identical with Brother Terrapin. The man carried the Jabuti to his house, put him in a box, and went out. By and by the Jabuti began to sing, just as Brother Rabbit did. The man's children listened, and the Jabuti stopped. The children begged him to continue, but to this he replied: “If you are pleased with my singing, how much more would you be pleased if you could see me dance.” The children thereupon took him from the box, and placed him in the middle of the floor, where he danced, to their great delight. Presently, the Jabuti made an excuse to go out, and fled. The children procured a stone, painted it like the tortoise, and placed it in the box. After a while the man returned, took the painted stone from the box and placed it on the fire, where it burst as soon as it became heated. Meantime, the Jabuti had taken refuge in a burrow having two openings, so that, while the man was looking in at one opening, the tortoise would appear at another. Professor Hartt identifies this as a sun-myth—the slow-sun (or tortoise) escaping from the swift-moon (or man).
7
.
Kaffir Folk-Lore,
p. 84.
8
P. 89.
9
.
Kaffir Folk-Lore,
p. 178.
10
. P. 111.
11
.
Kaffir Folk-Lore,
p. 166.
12
.
Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings,
xix, p. 88.
13
.
Amazonian Tortoise Myths,
p. 29.
14
.
Reynard, the Fox, in South Africa; or, Hottentot Fables and Tales.
By W. H. I. Bleek, Ph.D. London, 1864.
15
. P. 32.
16
. Bleek, p. 23.
17
. O'Selvagem, p. 237. Quoted by Mr. Herbert H. Smith, in his work “Brazil and the Amazons.”
18
. P. 37.
19
. The first volume.
20
.
D. G. Brinton's Myths,
pp. 161-176.
21
.
The American Journal of Philology,
vol. III., no. 11.
22
.
Tchiak
is the name given by the Creole negroes to the starling, which, Dr. Mercier tells me, is applied adjectively to express various states of spirituous exhilaration.—
Note by Prof. Harrison.
23
. Topknot, foretop.
24
. Persuaded.
25
.
Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings.
New York: D. Appleton & Co., p. 70.
26
. Disease.
27
. Or Wull-er-de-Wuts. Probably a fantastic corruption of “will-o'-the wisp,” though this is not by any means certain.
28
. Preserves.
29
. In the South, a rain is called a “season,” not only by the negroes, but by many white farmers.
30
. It is a far-away sound that might be identified with one of the various undertones of silence, but it is palpable enough (if the word may be used) to have attracted the attention of the humble philosophers of the old plantation.
31
. Measuring.
32
. Compliments.
33
. That is, from the foundation, or beginning.
34
. To pine or long for anything. This is a good old English word, which has been retained in the plantation vocabulary.
35
. A corruption of “aye, aye.” It is used as an expression of triumph, and its enployment in this connection is both droll and picturesque.
36
. Southern readers will recognize this and “han'-roomance” as terms used by negroes in playing marbles—a favorite game on the plantations Sunday afternoons. These terms were curt and expressive enough to gain currency among the whites.
37
. Levy.
38
. The veritable Pan's pipes. A simple but very effective musical instrument made of reeds, and in great favor on the plantations.
39
. A species of sweet-shrub growing wild in the South.
40
. Triangle.
41
. That is to say, Brother Rabbit sang the air and Brother Fox the refrain.
42
. An allusion to the primitive mode of cleaning hogs by heating rocks, and placing them in a barrel or tank of water.
43
. This word “lonesome,” as used by the negroes, is the equivalent of “thrilling,” “romantic,” etc., and in that sense is very expressive.
44
. An inquiry after his health. Another form is: “How does yo' corporosity seem ter segashuate?”
45
. Exercise himself.
46
. Tear the earth.
47
. Acquaintance
48
. Sissy Ann.
49
. Disease.
50
. If, as some ethnologists claim, the animal myths are relics of zoötheism, there can scarcely be a doubt that the practice here described by Uncle Remus is the survival of some sort of obeisance or genuflexion by which the negroes recognized the presence of the Rabbit, the great central figure and wonder-worker of African mythology.
51
. Never mind.
52
. Sometime, any time, no time. Thus: “Run fetch me de ax, en I'll wait on you one er deze odd-come shorts.”
53
. Assurance.
54
. Forehead.
55
. During slavery, the ringing of the nine-o'clock bell in the towns and villages at night was the signal for all negroes to retire to their quarters.
56
. A mixture of “complacent” and “placid.” Accent on the second syllable.
57
. A version of this story makes Brother Rabbit capture a swarm of bees. Mr. W. O. Tuggle, of Georgia, who has made an exhaustive study of the Creek Indians, has discovered a variant of the legend. The Rabbit (Chufee) becomes alarmed because he has nothing but the nimbleness of his feet to take him out of harm's way. He goes to his Creator and begs that greater intelligence be bestowed upon him. Thereupon the snake test is applied, as in the negro story, and the Rabbit also catches a swarm of gnats. He is then told that he has as much intelligence as there is any need for, and he goes away satisfied.

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