JEWELLERY.
JEWELLERY.
Many of the little girls wear ear-rings, mostly of silver but occasionally of gold; the design illustrated at Fig. 4 is a favourite with both adults and children; the originals of the illustration, however, were of gold, worn by a child. Fig. 5 consisted of a diamond-cut stone supporting an amber drop of rather quaint appearance, but whether of Oriental or Birmingham workmanship I cannot say; that illustrated by Fig. 6 was composed of malachite and silver.
The remaining illustrations will speak for themselves, perhaps, excepting Fig. 7, which were unquestionably valuable and were beautifully made of burnished and matte yellow gold.
Nearly all the females—whether of tender years or adult—wear necklaces of some description, their fondness for beads amounting almost to a passion; but with beads, as in other gypsy matters, there appears to be a sort of vogue or preference for certain shapes and colours. Very frequently, but not invariably, the beads worn are black or red—two “lucky” colours, by the way. The shape most favoured is perhaps that of a cowrie (Fig. 8), approximately, and there appears to be ground for supposing that at one time cowries may have been used in this manner, giving place eventually to coral or stones turned to roughly imitate them. The beads used differ much in size, varying from one-eighth of an inch in length and of like diameter, to an inch or more in length by three-quarters of an inch in diameter.
Were it possible to trace these strings of beadsthrough all their vicissitudes of time and place not a few, it would be discovered, have emanated within the last twenty or thirty years from that birthplace of so much “genuine” Hindu, Egyptian and similar work, a place known to gypsies as Kaulo gav (Black town), otherwise Birmingham, while others would be found to have been religiously cared for and passed on by generation after generation of the same family almost from the time of their shaping in the Far East; indeed, after carefully examining some of these old beads, but little imagination is needed to present to the mind’s eye a Hindu squatting at his primitive lathe, turning and shaping coral, stone or wood into just such beads.
Occasionally, the beads of a necklace are nicely graduated or otherwise regularly varied in size; again, they may be seen having no order or arrangement, as though composed of portions of several necklaces. The only rule I have been able to discover concerning the number of strings or rows of beads one wears is, that each one wears all she has,—if enough for one string only, it suffices; if she be fortunate enough to possess sufficient for three, four or six rows, then she wears all of them, but two or three rows are more usual.
Gypsy women have distinct and artistic styles of dressing the hair, of which they mostly have an abundance, and I have known more than one Romany chal who was proud of his glossy, black ringlets, but nowadays one would probably have some difficulty in finding such. Some of the men adopt the fringe style for their front locks, others cultivate the “curl” of the rural labourer, but quite frequently young men and lads have the hair closely cropped,—“it’s cleaner in the warm weather,” said one to me; “my missis allus cuts mine, she’s done it ever since we’ve been married, with the horse-clippers.”
“No I haven’t,” interpolated the wife; “I’ve done it with the small ones.”
“Well,” he retorted, “they are almost the same.”
In a gypsy encampment there is generally one of the men who is handy with scissors and razor; naturally his services are preferred by the community to those of the professional barber. Sunday is the day when the tonsorial artist of the camp is busy, and for fairly obvious reasons,—in the first place, he is not at work,—that is to say, he is not pursuing his ordinary vocation; secondly, Sunday generally finds almost every one at the vans or tents.
Perhaps no more ridiculous statements have ever been made than those relating to the habits of gypsies; one such informs its readers that gypsies darken their hair to black by the “subtle use of certaine herbes,” but omits to state why gypsy women—whose hair is naturally as black and lustrous as possible—should desire, or endeavour to darken it by the application of absurd preparations.
The women are proud of their hair, and spend considerable time in attending to it. I once asked one of them how she managed to keep her hair in such perfect condition.
“If you are not in a hurry to go, I’ll show you,” she replied.
A child was forthwith despatched with a bucket to an adjacent spring for water; meanwhile the woman loosed her hair from its many tiny plaits, and, as she sat upon the ground, it fell around her like a black cascade, and was of such length that it lay upon the ground; she proceeded next to wet the hair thoroughly by the simple method of holding her head over the pail and plying the brush which was now and again plunged into the water.
STYLES OF HAIR-DRESSING.STYLES OF HAIR-DRESSING.
STYLES OF HAIR-DRESSING.
After partly drying her hair by means of a towel, she allowed the breeze to play throughit; grease was now rubbed well into it and as much as possible afterwards removed by brushing, etc. Any grease is used for this purpose, but in this instance I saw ordinary dripping applied, not the “fat of hedgehogs,” stated by writers to be so excellent and to be the grease used by the gypsies.
This brings us to the business of plaiting, and I must confess that this part of the procedure was a revelation to me by reason of the rapidity with which it was executed, reminding me of some gypsy girls whom I once saw plaiting straw basket-work; there was no secrecy or dodging about it, their fingers moved and the work grew, but the movements were so rapid that the process could not be followed. She made five plaits which began near each ear and met behind the head in a series of “door knockers,” to say nothing of several smaller ones; having done this she announced her intention of facing my camera; I would have much preferred her facing me—to use an Irishism—with the back of her head, to enable me to give the reader a better idea of those wonderful plaits than is possible by the pen of a mere man; on Plate 15, however, will be found photographs of styles of hair-dressing, all of which weretaken from members of the Romany, or, as some prefer to call themselves, the travelling fraternity.
An article of dress which must not be overlooked is the neckerchief. It is used by both men and women and combines the functions of use and adornment; sometimes they are of silk of brilliant colouring, more often, however, they are composed of less costly material but are not less dazzling in colour, for in the matter of neckerchiefs and handkerchiefs the gypsy usually allows his love for colour full play, and it should occasion no surprise if he blossom out on Sundays in all the glory of a vivid scarlet or yellow neckerchief, which is relieved or ornamented, as the case may be, with spots of a contrasting colour or white as large as a shilling, but it is only just to say that most of the neckerchiefs worn by them are less terrible in their aggressiveness.
A “ROMANCHAL”A “ROMANCHAL”
A “ROMANCHAL”
The silk handkerchief is occasionally worn as a shawl by the women-folk, and, in event of the sun’s rays becoming uncomfortably hot, it is wrapped around the head in a style not inappropriately called by them an “Italian cap.” I was once arranging to photograph a Romany girl, when her companion, who happened to bea very-much-alive gypsy, appropriated my velvet focussing cloth and forthwith made for herself therewith an Italian cap. I have ever since regretted I did not manage without the cloth and photograph her and the impromptu head-dress.
Some of the girls and younger women have a pretty habit of wearing flowers in the hair,—small sprays of foliage being used when flowers are not obtainable,—thereby reminding one of a similar custom of the natives of Tahiti, who, however, go a step further and wear a flower inserted in a small hole in each ear in addition to those in the hair.
It is a noteworthy fact that whenever Romany women purchase jewellery, articles of distinctly Oriental design, or having an Oriental or quaint appearance, are almost invariably selected.
Brooches, which are fine examples of cameo sculpture, are occasionally seen being worn by them, and as these are mostly Italian productions they may have been procured during a sojourn in that country; but it is more likely they have been purchased in England, as they were at one time in great demand and many thousands were imported.
Certain features of the gypsy dress remindone of that of the coster, the large hat with its “fevver” being the heart’s desire of gypsy Fenella and coster ’Arriet alike; with regard, however, to the dress of the male gypsy, little need be said, but that the coster delights more in display than does our present-day gypsy; even the gypsy of a few years since, in his full array of silver buttons, was dressed modestly in comparison with the barbaric pearly rig-out of the coster. In the way of head-gear, the Romany chal usually prefers a cloth cap or a slouch hat, albeit a large, high-crowned straw hat may be occasionally found among horse-dealers and children. Among Romany folk, then, love of finery and display would appear to be the exclusive privilege of the female gypsy. I have seen silver umbrella handles mounted and worn by them as brooches, half-crowns as brooches to keep an apron string in place, bones which are considered lucky mounted in silver and worn on the breast, and so on. One of the first questions one asks of another when inspecting jewellery is—“Is it silver?”
ITALIAN CAP.ITALIAN CAP.
ITALIAN CAP.
As many of these people can neither read nor write, it will be obvious that most of their accounts are settled otherwise than by cheque: the gypsy may, in truth, be called a ready-moneyconcern. Not many years since, members of a certain tribe who were horse-dealers might have been seen at horse fairs and the like, and although any one of them knew well how to drive a hard bargain, he did not pay with a worthless cheque, but produced a purse, apparently made from an old stocking, and from its contents of a hundred or a hundred and fifty pounds, paid for his purchases on the spot, in sterling gold. It is, of course, possible that with the advance of civilization gypsies have now grasped the possibilities of the credit system, and that perchance some may be found who know how to pay their debts with flash notes or cheques that will not be honoured; but so far as my observation goes, the good old-fashioned style of coin on the spot is adhered to.
The women usually carry their money on their persons, the coins being tied up in a piece of fabric to which a string is affixed; this they tie around the neck, the money being suspended a few inches below the chin underneath the dress; the key of the caravan is sometimes similarly suspended.
In the method of carrying their children, the women remind one of the Kaffirs and other races who carry their babes upon the hip.
The gypsy generally uses a broad, endless strip of carpet or similarly strong fabric which is passed over one shoulder,—usually the right,—making a kind of pocket for the baby, which rests against the left hip and receives additional support from the left arm; thus the right arm is free to carry a basket or to be used in other ways.
It is no light task for a woman,—this carrying, many miles in the day, of a heavy child on the one hand, and a large basket full of various articles on the other,—and yet it is done by many of the gypsy women, day in, day out, and seldom, indeed, is there any real expression or manifestation of distress other than the mute appeal of a melancholy face.
When gypsy children are old enough to sit erect, they are frequently carried sitting astride the hip of the mother, who keeps them in position and gives support with one arm, precisely in the manner of the Kaffir women.
“MAIDEN MEDITATION.”“MAIDEN MEDITATION.”
“MAIDEN MEDITATION.”
Photography enables us—as nothing else can—to secure truthful and permanent records of the features and fleeting expressions of our fellow-creatures—not the least pleasing among such photographs being pictures of happy childhood. The first time I saw the original of one of my favourite pictures—the roguish, happy-lookinglittle Romany girl of the Illustration, page 128—she was playing in a green lane with a number of youngsters, several of whom were not unlike her, while others were of a quite degenerate type; one or two of them, indeed, tried to rifle my pockets while others engaged my attention; it is, however, but fair to the children to say that this was done at the instigation of the adults, who had called out from the tent on the other side of the hedge—
“Chiv tuti’s vast adrey the Rye’s putsi.”
My reply—“Mande jinned what you penned”—appeared to surprise them.
“So you did, did you?” queried one of the women, and thereupon she looked as it were beyond me, assuming an expression only to be described by an editor’s usual notice to quarrelsome correspondents:—
“This discussion must now close.”
Later in the day, when we had become better acquainted, this merry youngster, who had kept aloof while the others were intent on my pockets, came to me, and, slipping her hand into mine, said—
“My name’s——, you like me the best.”
I confessed that I did.
Cretinism—according to one writer—is prevalent among gypsies. I am inclined to think that if this statement be based on statistics, they referred to Chorodies rather than to true gypsies, or at least that Chorodies and Romanies were not differentiated when the statistics were collected. I have lived and wandered among the gypsies of our southern counties for many years, and have yet to find sufficient evidence of cretinism to warrant a statement that it is prevalent. These observations refer to the dark-complexioned, true Romany people and the posh ta posh folk—as the gypsy calls the Romany half-breeds—and not to the Chorodies, who, apart from their wandering habits, have very little in common with true gypsies.
Amongst all peoples, examples of deformed humanity are occasionally brought into the world; but the proportion of such among true gypsies would appear to be small, and while Romany folk are notably quick, keen-witted and brainy, I have not observed—even among the very small proportion of deformed—that the idiocy, goitre, or other characteristic features of cretinism exist to any marked degree.
METHOD OF CARRYING BABY AND BASKET.METHOD OF CARRYING BABY AND BASKET.
METHOD OF CARRYING BABY AND BASKET.
Formerly, it was a rigid Romany law that no gypsy should marry outside the race, therefore imaginative writers with little or no innerknowledge of the people, have jumped to the conclusion that gypsies must of necessity suffer from consanguineous marriage. It is true that Romany cousins occasionally contract marriage, but it must be borne in mind that this marriage of cousins occurs to a much greater extent among the rest of our population, and a knowledge of the subject generally forces on one the opinion that consanguineous marriages are not proportionately more frequent among gypsies than English people in general.
It is quite natural that a gypsy should prefer as a partner for life one of his own race, and as it has been estimated that there are some twenty thousand to twenty-five thousand gypsies in this country, and it is a fact that the greater number of gypsies do not marry those related to them, even distantly, one can but characterize any disparagement of the gypsy in this direction as an unchristian endeavour to incite public feeling against him.
Referring to the custom of gypsies marrying only those of their own race, matters are not quite as they were formerly, although in some tribes still the marrying of a Gentile by one of its members is sufficient to deprive the offender of all intimate intercourse with the remainder ofthe family, but in this respect, the possession by the interloper of a liberal share of this world’s goods may make much difference, for a wealthy Gentile is not always so heartily despised by the Romanies as they would have one believe; in bygone times even members of the peerage have led to the altar dusky brides from the gypsy tent.
The complexion of different tribes of gypsies varies very much,—from a light olive to a decided walnut brown. I know one family of which all the members are “almost black” in the popular sense of the term. I have been informed that “the last of the real old black gypsies” was buried at a family burial-place called Mousehold, near Norwich, many years since. If, however, the individual then laid to rest was of darker complexion than the members of several families of my acquaintance, then he or she was undoubtedly “some black,” as our American friends would have it.
Of the “black” gypsies to whom I have referred, one of the families can boast of having had, not many years since, two of their number who bore the titles of Gypsy King and Queen. Unfortunately, the appellations yielded no emolument, and it is to be feared if the King had been caught using a rabbit net, the magistrate wouldhave had so little respect for the title that he would have imposed on his majesty the same sentence as on a common poacher.
CARRYING CHILD ON HIP.CARRYING CHILD ON HIP.
CARRYING CHILD ON HIP.
I have a very distinct recollection of my first meeting with this family, for I was accompanied by a friend who, upon catching sight of them at their camp, remarked: “They are a black lot anyway, you should try and persuade them to sit for a photograph.”
“Suppose,” said I, “you air your diplomacy and see what you can do, meanwhile I’ll wait here.”
Nothing loth, he proceeded to the camp and explained that his friend would like to photograph the family, with the following result:—
“No, we ain’t ready,—come next week if you like,—we ain’t goin’ to be took to-day.”
Returning to me, my friend reported: “It’s no go, they won’t let you do it, but perhaps you may be able to persuade them.”
Armed with my hand camera and the politest Romany I could muster I advanced to the attack. Before many minutes had elapsed, my comrade sauntered up and was surprised to find me preparing to photograph them, the “open sesame” to their hearts having been,—not backsheesh,—but, as the reader will havealready surmised, the gentle Romany tongue. My companion, who knew nothing of the language, would not have gained their consent had he argued until nightfall.
The woman put one or two artful questions to me, such as would cause a beginner at the language to stumble, but, fortunately, I saw through the stratagem and passed my exam, with honours.
I exposed a couple of plates on the group, after which the woman came to me and said:
“We had the preachers here just before you came up, but they don’t understand gypsy talk, so we’d like you to give us the Lord’s Prayer in Romany. If you will, I’ll call the children from the other camp; there’s a dozen of us altogether, but only two as can read.”
Of course I consented, and after the occupants of the adjacent tent had joined the group, all stood silent and attentive while I repeated the words, which, to the ordinary English ear, sound so strange. At the concluding words—Si covar ajaw—the woman said “Paracrow tuti” (I thank you).
“YOU LIKE ME THE BEST.”“YOU LIKE ME THE BEST.”
“YOU LIKE ME THE BEST.”
Oftentimes since have I thought of this incident, and it has occurred to me that Christian workers among these people are often obliged toconfess that after years of wearying labour, little or no evident progress has attended their efforts, but there is here some indication that the good seed implanted may not always die, but may lie dormant awaiting the conditions that will favour its development.
Possibly some cynic may accuse these gypsies of hypocrisy,—of simulating a desire he considers foreign to their nature in order to beg successfully afterwards. I am afraid such an accusation would not be unjust to many of the Chorodies, but the great majority of gypsies would consider such action beneath them.
As I have had no connection with any religious body working among gypsies, but have mingled with them, helped with their work, lived and wandered amongst them because I like the people, and as they have always treated me with kindness, literally as one of themselves, I have probably had opportunities of estimating results that are denied the workers themselves, and I consider the incident just related to be typical of the attitude of the gypsies, that is to say, they are not altogether indifferent, but, above all else, Romany folk desire to preserve their own language, and all other things being equal, it would seem that the man who will bethe greatest power in getting gypsies to turn to the light, will be one who has an intimate knowledge of them and will talk and reason with them in their own language.
It is to be feared, however, that in some minds the unworthy feeling exists that it would savour of paganism, or at the least be irreligious to pray in a gypsy tongue. Surely it is time our views were broadened a little.
I have seen gypsies playing pitch and toss, and have many times looked on at their games with cards, which are usually played solely for the pleasure they afford, counters in the form of buttons or stones being used instead of money. The gypsy—wicked as he is said to be—does not lose many pounds nightly at bridge, roulette or at the casino.
FROM time out of mind to the present day, country fairs have been noteworthy resorts of gypsies of high or low estate. In this connection—without even a passing thought of disparaging Romany folk—one is irresistibly reminded of the passage:—
Wheresoever the body is, “thither will the eagles be gathered together.”
For fairs seem to possess a certain fascination for gypsies apart from their recognition of such institutions as opportunities for doing business. Horse-dealing is a line of business that is frequently adopted by those who have the necessary capital, and so well qualified are they as judges of horseflesh, and so expert do they become in the art of presenting an animal to a prospective purchaser so that it appears to possess all the points he desires, that “cute as a gypsy horse-dealer” might well become a standard aphorism.
Stalls and side shows in the hands of Romany proprietors who need no instruction in theirparticular style of oratory, and various forms of amusement are also offered by the “people of Egypt,” most of whose dusky daughters are adepts in the wiles that effect the transfer of coin of the realm.
At most gatherings of this nature will be found good Romany types, half-breeds and nondescripts, and it is a fact worthy of noting that usually one hears the best and fullest Romany spoken by the best types of the race, while the language of the half-and-half and mongrels is not infrequently fearful jargon combining Romany jib of a sort, slang and profanity, mixed in different proportions by different individuals, and used with scant regard to either grammar or propriety.
Perhaps one would not be surprised at this if the conditions under which their early life is passed be taken into consideration, for the low, nondescript wanderers—from whom the Romanies for the most part keep aloof—constitute an appreciable proportion of the entertainers at most fairs and the like, and provide a school for the apt pupils of the rising generation, in which they graduate in most of the unholy attainments of the class.
However, fairs change as does all else in achanging world. I recall a visit I paid to a fair in north Hertfordshire years ago, and a brief description of some of the units in its composition will be interesting in comparison with those of to-day. In this particular instance Romany folk were well represented, the women at the stalls and shooting galleries being as usual dressed in black; in their ears were gold earrings, and nearly all wore black hats having ostrich feather adornments. At one stall, presided over by a voluble “Egyptian,” was a large brass arrow pivoted at the centre, like the needle of a large compass; around this was ranged a tempting display of rock,—that sweetstuff beloved of the juvenile who could even eat it after he had “peeked” at the process of manufacture behind the van,—and this was disposed in such a manner that no matter in what direction the arrow pointed when it came to rest after being set spinning by the expectant youngster, the proprietress was always able to see that it pointed to a small piece of rock, so that the speculator received about the value of a farthing in return for his penny; but let us entertain the charitable supposition that this was done to create disgust for games of chance and suppress an incipient taste for gambling. “Yes, mydear,” I can imagine I now hear her saying, “it’s quite fair, we never cheat,—now, young man, have another try.”
Nowadays, these polished brass arrows are seldom or never seen on the stalls of sweet-stuff, for the law has looked into the matter.
At another part of the fair one might hear inspiriting music being ground out of a wheezy old organ by a one-legged performer, while hard by was a stall where small bundles of out-of-date magazines were offered at a penny or twopence the parcel. Somewhat in the rear of this stall stood a cheapjack who now and again essayed to revive the public curiosity by playing a concertina, banging a tea-tray or smashing a few plates. Further on was a man standing upon an upturned box, who was trying to persuade his small circle of hearers to believe that the only straightforward way of getting to heaven was by following the directions given in a little book,—a few copies of which he had considerately brought with him—for sale. Passing between the lines of sweetmeat, gingerbread and toy stalls, presided over principally by swarthy, black-haired women, a number of trifles, such as one would look for in vain to-day, might be seen; but the item which might now be considered asmost distinctly marking a different age, was the small bundles of toy whips selling at one penny each, every whip containing enough real gutta-percha to make a golf ball and having a wooden whistle at the handle end.
Next came two women attired as Sisters of Mercy at a tiny stall, selling embroidered work for the benefit of some convent; prominent among their goods were men’s braces of such gorgeous colouring as would make a naked savage yearn for trousers in order that braces of such splendour might be adequately displayed.
Hard by was a thimble-rigger and exponent of the purse trick, but he too has been prohibited by law to pursue his unselfish profession, and probably the gentleman who stood at a stall close to him has ere this been obliged by statute to divert to some other channel his labours for the public good.
Along the shelf just above the man’s head were arranged glass jars of specimens in spirit. These were labelled in Latin, in order to impress the more the rustics, who were his best customers. The specimens, purporting to be of human origin, were in reality portions of domestic animals, carefully selected with a view to the particular organism simulated, all of which weredescribed as having been extracted from human patients by means of the wonderful medicines offered by the proprietor, whose magnanimity—judging from his own statements—was phenomenal. One of the specimens of which I have a very distinct recollection, was stated to be an extraordinary tapeworm from a client, while it was actually the bleached intestine of a common fowl. Nevertheless this man did a roaring trade, a tribute to his “gift of the gab.”
Now and again would be heard the raucous voice of a disreputable-looking man who perambulated the fair, announcing that the “last dying speech and confession” of a malefactor, executed on the previous day at the county gaol, could be bought for one penny. Luckily, opportunities of this nature no longer occur. Gone, too, is the obliging individual who was so anxious to allow everyone to “prick the garter”; a short description of the procedure may therefore prove interesting:—
Firstly, the exponent produced a very long, narrow leather strap; this he doubled so as to form a loop end; he then set it upon edge on the ground and rolled up the remainder of the strap around it, making several other loops as he proceeded; then he invited bystanders to prick witha long metal pin which he provided the loop considered to be the doubling of the strap. A necessary condition was that the garter pricker put down any sum he pleased, and in event of the pin remaining caught in the loop when the strap was unwound by the demonstrator, he doubled the amount laid down, the total sum becoming the property of the garter pricker; on the other hand, if the strap came away entirely from the pin, then the amount staked passed over to the strap manipulator, who could work the trick so as to win or lose at will.
The period of which I write was that of the old “roundabouts.” Prior to the development of galloping powers by the wooden horses and the use of electric light, the naphtha lamps which illuminated the fair at night frequently blew out and they then added powerfully to the characteristic smell of the fair.
Such then is the kind of school in which many of the wanderers, whose parents obtain a livelihood at fairs, learn their early lessons; but to the credit of the Romanies it must be said that, as a rule, they have not taken part in such distinctly swindling concerns as thimble-rigging, purse trick and the like, these ventures being mostly conducted by the cockney element whichfinds its way to all large fairs; in fact, the only Romany concern which partook of this nature I can recollect, was the brass arrow on the stall of the woman who dispensed the celebrated “fair rock.”
Notwithstanding the innumerable inducements to adopt the ways of the gorgio house-dweller, tradesman, mechanic, sharper or swindler, the traditional life of the Romany has been proof against them; pricking the garter and thimble-rigging are of the past, the purse trickster and others of that ilk have had their day; but the same Romany types will be still found attending the same fairs, gaining a livelihood in practically the same manner as fifty years ago. They boast that their people will never die out,—an assertion that can, of course, be proved by time alone,—but it is certain that various writers, during the last hundred years, have spoken of them as a fast disappearing race, and have stated that they would become merged in, or absorbed by, the main population; it is to be feared, however, that those who could write in this strain, had not closely studied the people, for, as a matter of fact, there is scarcely greater reason to expect the Romanies to become extinct as a people, than that the Jews should lose their racialcharacteristics, while unbiassed investigation of the matter would seem to urge the opinion that the type will persist.
In this respect the gypsy must not for a moment be likened to the aboriginal Australian, or to the Red man, for while they are gradually but not the less surely being extinguished by the vices they have adopted from the white man, the gypsy adapts himself to circumstances to a certain extent but keeps more or less aloof from the “Gentile” and is in little danger of becoming so civilized—if we may so term it—as to lose in any degree his hold upon, or fidelity to, gypsydom, and down to the present time he has falsified predictions by declining to die off.
Most of the present-day fairs bring together a good sprinkling of the “people of Egypt,” as the gypsies at one time called themselves, and I have often met in my own locality some whom I have seen at similar gatherings in other parts of the country. At one anniversary of the local fair when a goodly number of my gorgio acquaintances happened to be present, a Romany girl espied me as I sauntered along between the stalls, and said as she slipped her arm through mine—
“Come along with me, my Rye; I’ll showyou something to photo,” and to the evident astonishment of those of my friends whose conduct was regulated by Mrs. Grundy, I was escorted just out of the fair to where an old woman was seated beside a ditch.
“There!” exclaimed my dusky guide, “she’ll make a good photo; she ain’t long for this world, so you’d better get one now.”
Writing of fairs reminds me of an occasion when I looked up some Romany acquaintances on the evening preceding a fair. There was every prospect of a large gathering on the morrow, and quite a number of gypsy families were on the ground. Work was finished for the day and it was nearly dark as we sat around the fire. As we chatted mainly in Romany, the youngsters—who had not yet been disposed of for the night—evidently considered that their elders should not monopolize the conversation and therefore kept up a running fire of questions, partly with the hope that they might catch me tripping:—
“What’s a bokkra?”
“What are chokkars?”
“What’s tuv?”
“He dunno what mullo mas is, I sh’ think.”
“Do you know what a juggal is, my Rye?”
AROUND THE CAMP FIRE.AROUND THE CAMP FIRE.
AROUND THE CAMP FIRE.
“I say, what’s a gav mush?”
“Tell us what a baulo is.”
“You don’t know what a hotchi is, do you?”
And so on until one of the women was obliged to quiet them in order that she might be heard.
“Lor’,” said she, “I could do with a hotchi (hedgehog) to-night, couldn’t you, Rye? But p’r’aps you ain’t never tasted one.”
Here, a merry, laughing girl with a mischievous twinkle in her eye interposed, saying:—
“Let me tell you how to cook ’em.
” ... first of all you pull off all the prickles one at a time with the pincers——”
“Don’t you take no notice o’ her,” broke in her sister; “she’s a-gettin’ at you; we don’t do nothin’ o’ the sort, we allus takes ’em to the nearest barber’s and gets ’em shaved.”
Good-natured banter of this description constituted a fair proportion of the talk that evening, although now and again conversation would take a more serious turn. Meanwhile, one of the little ones had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms, and she now proceeded to put him to bed; however, he awoke during the process and as I stood at the caravan door he suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, called out to me, “Goo’ night, mush,” then as suddenly snuggled down to sleep.
When the woman returned to the fireside, she showed me a Bible, which, she told me, she had carried about in the van for over twenty years, but could not read a word of it. She also produced a book entitled “The Traveller’s Guide,” a work issued by a colportage association; this was, of course, equally useless to her unless some one could be found who would read to her.
“If anybody starts readin’ to her,” said another of the company, “he’ll get tired of the job before she’s done enough listenin’; why, she’d stay up all night to have a book read to her.”
In connection with the reading of written or printed matter to gypsies, a curious fact has many times come under my notice:—
Those who are unable to read see nothing extraordinary in the possibility of recording, by means of written or printed characters, all the sounds of the English language; but that one should be able to write anything that may be spoken in the Romany tongue, and afterwards to read it so as to reproduce the original speech, nearly always occasions surprise.
I have often jotted down jingles, verses or quaint sayings by the simple method of phonetic spelling, and when, somewhat later, I have read aloud what I had written, considerable surprise has been evinced.
“Ain’t it wonderful he can set it down in Romany,” says one who is unable to spell even her own name.
A tolerably sharp ear and a good memory are needed to catch and record many of the verses one hears, for gypsies generally speak rapidly, and their rhymes and sayings are sometimes in poggado jib, a strangely mixed or broken language that requires much practice to ensure fluency.
The following may be considered a good example of this jargon, which is neither good Romany nor English:—
“Mande went to poov the gry,All around the stiggur sty,Mush off to Mande,I takes off my chuvvel,I dels him in the per,So ope me duvvel dancin’,Mande cours well.”
“Mande went to poov the gry,All around the stiggur sty,Mush off to Mande,I takes off my chuvvel,I dels him in the per,So ope me duvvel dancin’,Mande cours well.”
“Mande went to poov the gry,All around the stiggur sty,Mush off to Mande,I takes off my chuvvel,I dels him in the per,So ope me duvvel dancin’,Mande cours well.”
“Mande went to poov the gry,
All around the stiggur sty,
Mush off to Mande,
I takes off my chuvvel,
I dels him in the per,
So ope me duvvel dancin’,
Mande cours well.”
It is unnecessary to render this jingle into English, but it serves to convey the sound of this curious language, for I have recorded it phonetically, exactly as spoken, and in common withmuch of the verse beloved of the bedouin Arab this specimen is more forcible than elegant.
During the same evening I heard a girl recite a rhyme which must be very old; it has been printed many times, and is fairly well known to the student of Romany; nevertheless, one seldom hears it at the present day and I was pleased to know it had not been lost, as many old gypsy verses have been. The words were as follows and they differ in one respect only from those which have been printed, the last word being pronounced cosh, not cost:—
“Can you rokkra Romany?Can you play the bosh?Can you jal adrey the staripen?Can you chin the cosh?”
“Can you rokkra Romany?Can you play the bosh?Can you jal adrey the staripen?Can you chin the cosh?”
“Can you rokkra Romany?Can you play the bosh?Can you jal adrey the staripen?Can you chin the cosh?”
“Can you rokkra Romany?
Can you play the bosh?
Can you jal adrey the staripen?
Can you chin the cosh?”
In this, the real significance of the questions lies, not so much in their literal meaning as in their idiomatic interpretation; instead of the questions being simply—
Can you speak the Romany?Can you play the fiddle?Can you go into the prison?Can you cut the stick?
Can you speak the Romany?Can you play the fiddle?Can you go into the prison?Can you cut the stick?
Can you speak the Romany?Can you play the fiddle?Can you go into the prison?Can you cut the stick?
Can you speak the Romany?
Can you play the fiddle?
Can you go into the prison?
Can you cut the stick?
a gypsy would understand them to signify—
... Are you a master of the Romany tongue?
Can you hold your own in a lav-chingaripen, or argument, in that language?
... Are you a master of the fiddle?
... Are you man enough to “face the music,” hear your sentence and do your bit without flinching?
... Are you qualified to earn your living as a gypsy? For if you cannot in one way or another “chin the cosh” to some purpose, on occasion, then you will never be successful on the road.
The Romany tongue being no exception to the rule that idioms are one of the principal stumbling blocks to students of languages other than their own.
Around us, about the fair ground, weird lights now glimmered, moved and disappeared, appeared again, wandered and went out, fires here and there flared up for a minute, died down, flickered and left a glow which dimly illuminated in an eerie fashion caravan, framework, and the jumble of preparation for the morrow’s business.
Now and again some one threaded his way in the uncertain light, a man stumbled over a peg in the shadow near me and relieved his feelings in the customary manner; one of the party around our dying fire remarked that “old Noah had got ’em again,” another, who seemed tohave a philosophy and a code of ethics of her own, sagely observed:—
“Swear words was sent for our use, and what I says is,—a man or woman as swears and don’t mean nothin’ by it, will be forgiven, but not a person as tells a lie.”
Here, it may be well to point out, that by gypsies it is often considered permissible, if not praiseworthy, to tell lies of all sorts and sizes to a gorgio, but a gypsy who tells a “whopper” to his own folk is “an out-and-out bad ’un.”
At one period in our history it was considered to be right and proper for all gentlemen to curse and swear, and to make use of every description of curious or picturesquely worded blasphemy; to-day, the prevalent conception of what constitutes a gentleman taboos profanity in any guise, but an incident I recollect which is relevant to the subject must certainly not go unrecorded:—
An old woman told a friend of mine that shedidlike to hear her son swear, as he “always swore so hearty it did her real good.” Probably, every one will not be able to view the matter in the same light.
On that night before the fair I renewedacquaintance with a number of gypsies whom I had last seen in the strawberry country, and much was talked of that related to happenings since that date and our mutual arrangements for meeting again in the hop gardens, a relation of which would be wearisome to the general reader, but the following snatches of conversation and jottings from my notebook of this date are not devoid of interest as they cast a sort of side-light on the character of the Romanies:—
... The words “dear” and “dearie” are frequently used,—“take that dear little bird in, it’s getting cold” (referring to a caged gold-finch, hanging outside caravan).
... “Yes, it’s dreadful to think of the dear little children wanting food” (referring to German atrocities in Belgium).
... “You go and witch yourself,” said a girl to an older relative, during a brief display of temper; the woman to whom this was addressed, turned to me and observed:—
“Ain’t that a dreadful thing to say to anybody, eh, Rye? She’s a devil, she is.”
... Upon seeing a photograph of girls boxing, a woman remarked:—
“No, I don’t like to see women boxing, it’s too much like men. Women should be women, and men should be men, I think.”
... “Yes, if I had more money I should buy a bicycle. I know where there’s a good secondhand one I can buy for seven-and-six, but I can’t afford it.”
... “I reckon some of the newspapers make a lot o’ money, why I heard this morning of a man as buys four newspapers a day!”
The sound of the distant church clock striking the hour of ten was the signal for parting salutations.
“Kushti rarde!”
“Kushti rarde, my Rye!”
A quarter of an hour later and not a sound broke the silence of the fair ground,—a lull before the storm,—for on the morrow all would be bustle and noise and other evidence of a determination to “make good” while the opportunity lasted.
On the morning after the fair, by ten o’clock, no vestige of caravan, tent or gypsy was to be seen,—otherwise, additional rent would have been charged,—scarcely a sign was visible of the numerous fires that had been there on the previous night, for most of these had been made in large iron baskets, cylindrical iron containers some three feet or so in height, or similar receptacles, in order that the fire should not be in actual contact with the herbage, or a fine for burning the grass would have been added to the rent for the ground; one fire I had noticed was in a galvanized bath raised upon bricks from the ground.
The caravans, or as the gypsies frequently term them, living wagons, are most interesting structures; they vary greatly in design, build and fittings, and may cost anything between a few pounds and several hundreds. Some of the travelling showmen appear to spare no expense in the general “get up” of their homes, and while a liking for a kind of barbaric splendour is not uncommon, the interior fittings of a few of the best class of these portable houses are elaborate and costly, if not exactly palatial, and it must be conceded to the gypsy,—well-to-do or otherwise,—that in constructing his house on the common-sense lines which are the outcome of experience he succeeds in solving the problem of a house on wheels that will fulfil all reasonable, or even extraordinary demands, far better than do the designers of some of the touring vans one occasionally sees.
In bygone times, donkey caravans were used,many of them being little more than covered carts, and to-day similar vehicles of a slightly modified form may be seen drawn by horses or ponies, the vehicles being too cumbrous and heavy to allow of a donkey being used as the draught animal. I have, however, seen a pony between the shafts and a donkey hitched on to the outside to assist.
The simplest form of what may be termed the covered van type of dwelling is shown by the second van from the front in the Illustration. The top or tilt is usually removable so that the owners may use it as a tent, leaving the van free for ordinary purposes. I know a family possessing a van of this description, who, during fruit picking, contract for carrying to rail by means of the van while the tilt is pegged down to the ground and utilized as a sleeping apartment.
I have been fortunate in obtaining in the one photograph, four different classes of living wagon. The tilt of the simplest type is composed of arched ribs covered with canvas or tarpaulin, that of the foremost, and altogether more substantial vehicle is composed of similar ribs which are covered with narrow planking, and this, in turn, is covered with painted canvas.