A GYPSY MAGIC SPELL.

There is a meaningless rhyme, very common among children. It is repeated while counting off those who are taking part in a game, and allotting to each a place. It is as follows:—

“Ekkeri akkery u-kery anFillisi’, follasy, Nicolas JohnQueebee-quābee—Irishman.Stingle ’em—stangle ’em—buck!”

With a very little alteration in sounds, and not more than children make of these verses in different places, this may be read as follows:—

“’Ekkeri, akai-ri, you kair—án.Filissin follasy. Nakelas jā’n.Kivi, kavi. Irishman.Stini—stani—buck!”

This is nonsense, of course, but it is Romany, or gypsy, and may be translated:—

“First—here—you begin.Castle—gloves. You don’t play. Go on!Kivi—kettle. How are you?Stini—buck—buck.”

The common version of the rhyme begins with:—

“One’eri—two-ery, ékkeri—án.”

But one-ry is theexacttranslation of ékkeri; ek or yek being one. And it is remarkable that in

“Hickorydickory dock,The rat ran up the clock;The clock struckone,And down he run,Hickorydickory dock.”

We have hickory or ekkeri again, followed by a significantone. It may be observed that while, the first verses abound in Romany words, I can find no trace of any in other child-rhymes of the kind. It is also clear that if we take from the fourth line theingle ’em,angle ’em, evidently added for mere jingle, there remainsstanorstani, “a buck,” followed by the very same word in English.

With the mournful examples of Mr. Bellenden Kerr’s efforts to show that all our old proverbs and tavern signs are Dutch, and Sir William Betham’s Etruscan-Irish, I should be justly regarded as one of the too frequent seekers for mystery in moonshine if I declared that I positively believed this to be Romany. Yet it is possible that it contains gypsy words, especially “fillissi,’ follasy,” which mean exactlychâteauand gloves, and I think it not improbable that it was once a sham charm used by some Romany fortune-teller to bewilder Gorgios. Let the reader imagine the burnt-sienna wild-cat eyed old sorceress performing before a credulous farm-wife and her children the great ceremony ofhākk’ni pānki, which Mr. Borrow callshokkani boro, but for which there is a far deeper name,—that ofthe great secret,—which even my best friends among the Romany tried to conceal from me. This feat is performed by inducing some woman of largely magnified faith to believe that there is hidden in her house a magic treasure, which can only be made to come to hand by depositing in the cellar another treasure, to which it will come bynatural affinity and attraction. “For gold, as you sees, my deari, draws gold, and so if you ties up all your money in a pocket-handkercher and leaves it, you’ll find it doubled. An’ wasn’t there the Squire’s lady, and didn’t she draw two hundred old gold guineas out of the ground where they’d laid in a old grave,—and only one guinea she gave me for all my trouble; an’ I hope you’ll do better by the poor old gypsy, my deari --- ---.”

The gold and all the spoons are tied up,—for, as the enchantress observes, there may be silver too,—and she solemnly repeats over it magical rhymes, while the children, standing around in awe, listen to every word. It is a good subject for a picture. Sometimes the windows are closed, and candles give the only light. The next day the gypsy comes and sees how the charm is working. Could any one look under her cloak he might find another bundle precisely resembling the one containing the treasure. She looks at the precious deposit, repeats her rhyme again, and departs, after carefully charging the housewife that the bundle must not be touched or spoken of for three weeks. “Every word you tell about it, my-deari will be a guinea gone away.” Sometimes she exacts an oath on the Bible that nothing shall be said.

Back to the farmer’s wife never again. After three weeks another Extraordinary instance of gross credulity appears in the country paper, and is perhaps repeated in a colossal London daily, with a reference to the absence of the school-master. There is wailing and shame in the house,—perhaps great suffering, for it may be that the savings of years have beer swept away. The charm has worked.

But the little sharp-eared children remember it and sing it, and the more meaningless it is in their ears the more mysterious does it sound. And they never talk about the bundle, which when opened was found to contain only sticks, stones, and rags, without repeating it. So it goes from mouth to mouth, until, all mutilated, it passes current for even worse nonsense than it was at first. It may be observed, however,—and the remark will be fully substantiated by any one who knows the language,—that there is a Romanyturnto even the roughest corners of these rhymes.Kivi,stingli,stangli, are all gypsyish. But, as I have already intimated, this does not appear in any other nonsense verses of the kind. There is nothing of it in

“Intery, mintery, cutery corn”—

or in anything else in Mother Goose. It is alone in its sounds and sense,—or nonsense. But there is not a wanderer of the roads who on hearing it would not explain, “Rya, there’s a great deal of Romanes in that ere.”

I should also say that the wordna-kelasorné-kelas, which I here translate differently, was once explained to me at some length by a gypsy as signifying “not speaking,” or “keeping quiet.”

Now the mystery of mysteries of which I have spoken in the Romany tongue is this. Thehokkani boro, or great trick, consists of three parts. Firstly, the telling of a fortune, and this is topen dukkerinorpen durkerin. The second part is the conveying away of the property, which is tolel dūdikabin, or to take lightning, possibly connected with the very old English slang term ofbien lightment. There is evidently a great confusion of words here. And the third is to“chiv o manzin apré lati,” or to put the oath upon her, which explains itself. When all the deceived are under oath not to utter a word about the trick, the gypsy mother has “a safe thing of it.”

Thehokkani boro, or great trick, was brought by the gypsies from the East. It has been practiced by them all over the world, it is still played every day somewhere. This chapter was written long ago in England. I am now in Philadelphia, and here I read in the “Press” of this city that a Mrs. Brown, whom I sadly and reluctantly believe is the wife of an acquaintance of mine, who walks before the world in other names, was arrested for the same old game of fortune-telling and persuading a simple dame that there was treasure in the house, and all the rest of the grand deception. And Mrs. Brown, good old Mrs. Brown, went to prison, where she will linger until a bribed alderman, or a purchased pardon, or some one of the numerous devices by which justice is evaded in Pennsylvania, delivers her.

Yet it is not a good country, on the whole, forhokkani boro, since the people here, especially in the rural districts, have a rough-and-ready way of inflicting justice which interferes sadly with the profits of aldermen and other politicians. Some years ago, in Tennessee, a gypsy woman robbed a farmer by the great trick of all he was worth. Now it is no slander to say that the rural folk of Tennessee greatly resemble Indians in certain respects, and when I saw thousands of them, during the war, mustered out in Nashville, I often thought, as I studied their dark brown faces, high cheek bones, and long straight black hair, that the American is indeed reverting to the aboriginal type. The Tennessee farmer and his neighbors,at any rate, reverted very strongly indeed to the original type when robbed by the gypsies, for they turned out all together, hunted them down, and, having secured the sorceress, burned her alive at the stake. And thus in a single crime and its punishment we have curiously combined a world-old Oriental offense, an European Middle-Age penalty for witchcraft, and the fierce torture of the red Indians.

“So good a proficient in one quarter of an hour that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life.”—King Henry the Fourth.

One summer day, in the year 1876, I was returning from a long walk in the beautiful country which lies around Bath, when, on the road near the town, I met with a man who had evidently grown up from childhood into middle age as a beggar and a tramp. I have learned by long experience that there is not a so-called “traveler” of England or of the world, be he beggar, tinker, gypsy, or hawker, from whom something cannot be learned, if one only knows how to use the test-glasses and proper reagents. Most inquirers are chiefly interested in the morals—or immorals—of these nomads. My own researches as regards them are chiefly philological. Therefore, after I had invested twopence in his prospective beer, I addressed him in Romany. Of course he knew a little of it; was there ever an old “traveler” who did not?

“But we are givin’ Romanes up very fast,—all of us is,” he remarked. “It is a gettin’ to be too blown. Everybody knows some Romanes now. But thereisa jib that ain’t blown,” he remarked reflectively. “Back slang an’ cantin’ an’ rhymin’ is grown vulgar,and Italian alwayswasthe lowest of the lot; thieveskennickis genteel alongside of organ-grinder’s lingo, you know. Doyouknow anythin’ of Italian, sir?”

“I canrakkerit prettyflick” (talk it tolerably), was my reply.

“Well I should never apenned[thought] sitch a swell gent as you had been down so low in the slums. NowRomanesis genteel. I heard there’s actilly a book about Romanes to learn it out of. But as for this other jib, its wery hard to talk. It is most all Old Irish, and they calls it Shelter.”

This was all that I could learn at that time. It did not impress me much, as I supposed that the man merely meant Old Irish. A year went by, and I found myself at Aberystwith, the beautiful sea-town in Wales, with my friend Professor Palmer—a palmer who has truly been a pilgrimoutre-mer, even by Galilee’s wave, and dwelt as an Arab in the desert. One afternoon we were walking together on that end of the beach which is the antithesis of the old Norman castle; that is, at the other extremity of the town, and by the rocks. And here there was a little crowd, chiefly of young ladies, knitting and novel-reading in the sun, or watching children playing on the sand. All at once there was an alarm, and the whole party fled like partridges, skurrying along and hiding under the lee of the rocks. For a great rock right over our heads was about to be blasted. So the professor and I went on and away, but as we went we observed an eccentric and most miserable figure crouching in a hollow like a little cave to avoid the anticipated falling stones.

“Dikk ó dovo mush adoi a gavverin lester kokero!” (Look at that man there, hiding himself!) said theprofessor in Romanes. He wished to call attention to the grotesque figure without hurting the poor fellow’s feelings.

“Yuv’s atrash o’ ye baryia” (He is afraid of the stones), I replied.

The man looked up. “I know what you’re saying, gentlemen. That’s Romany.”

“Jump up, then, and come along with us.”

He followed. We walked from rock to rock, and over the sand by the sea, to a secluded nook under a cliff. Then, seated around a stone table, we began our conversation, while the ocean, like an importunate beggar, surfed and foamed away, filling up the intervals with its mighty roaring language, which poets only understand or translate:—

“Thus far, and then no more:”Such language speaks the sounding seaTo the waves upon the shore.

Our new acquaintance was ragged and disreputable. Yet he held in his hand a shilling copy of “Helen’s Babies,” in which were pressed some fern leaves.

“What do you do for a living?” I asked.

“Shelkin gallopasjust now,” he replied.

“And what is that?”

“Selling ferns. Don’t you understand? That’s what we call it inMinklers Thari. That’s tinkers’ language. I thought as you knew Romanes you might understand it. The right name for it isShelterorShelta.”

Out came our note-books and pencils. So this was theShelterof which I had heard. He was promptly asked to explain what sort of a language it was.

“Well, gentlemen, you must know that I have nogreat gift for languages. I never could learn even French properly. I can conjugate the verbêtre,—that is all. I’m an ignorant fellow, and very low. I’ve been kicked out of the lowest slums in Whitechapel because I was too much of a blackguard for ’em. But I know rhyming slang. Do you know Lord John Russell?”

“Well, I know a little of rhyming, but not that.”

“Why, it rhymes tobustle.”

“I see.Bustleis to pick pockets.”

“Yes, or anything like it, such as ringing the changes.”

Here the professor was “in his plate.” He knows perfectly how to ring the changes. It is effected by going into a shop, asking for change for a sovereign, purchasing some trifling article, then, by ostensibly changing your mind as to having the change, so bewilder the shopman as to cheat him out of ten shillings. It is easily done by one who understands it. The professor does not practice this art for the lucre of gain, but he understands it in detail. And of this he gave such proofs to the tramp that the latter was astonished.

“A tinker would like to have a wife who knows as much of that as you do,” he remarked. “No woman is fit to be a tinker’s wife who can’t make ten shillings a day byglantherin.Glantherinorglad’herinis the correct word in Shelter for ringing the changes. As for the language, I believe it’s mostly Gaelic, but it’s mixed up with Romanes and canting or thieves’ slang. Once it was the common language of all the old tinkers. But of late years the old tinkers’ families are mostly broken up, and the language is perishing.”

Then he proceeded to give us the words in Shelta, or Minklers Thari. They were as follows:—

Shelkin gallopas

Selling ferns.

Soobli, Soobri

Brother, friend—a man.

Bewr

Woman.

Gothlin or goch’thlin

Child.

Young bewr

Girl.

Durra, or derra

Bread.

Pani

Water (Romany).

Stiff

A warrant (common cant).

Yack

A watch (cant,i.e.bull’s eye,Yack, an eye in Romany).

Mush-faker

Umbrella mender.

Mithani (mithni)

Policeman.

Ghesterman (ghesti)

Magistrate.

Needi-mizzler

A tramp.

Dinnessy

Cat.

Stall

Go, travel.

Biyêghin

Stealing.

Biyêg

To steal.

Biyêg th’eenik

To steal the thing.

Crack

A stick.

Monkery

Country.

Prat

Stop, stay, lodge.

Nêd askan

Lodging.

Glantherin (glad’herin)

Money, swindling.

This word has a very peculiar pronunciation.

Sauni or sonni

See.

Strépuck (reepuck)

A harlot.

Strépuck lusk, Luthrum’s gothlin

Son of a harlot.

Kurrb yer pee

Punch your head or face.

Pee

Face.

Borers and jumpers

Tinkers’ tools.

Borers

Gimlets.

Jumpers

Cranks.

Ogles

Eyes (common slang).

Nyock

Head.

Nyock

A penny.

Odd

Two.

Midgic

A shilling.

Nyö(d)ghee

A pound.

Sai, sy

Sixpence.

Charrshom, Cherrshom, Tusheroon

A crown.

Tré-nyock

Threepence.

Tripo-rauniel

A pot of beer.

Thari, Bug

Talk.

Can you thari Shelter? Can you bug Shelta? Can you talk tinkers’ language?

Shelter, shelta

Tinker’s slang.

Lárkin

Girl.

Curious as perhaps indicating an affinity between the Hindustanilarki, a girl, and the gypsyrakli.

Snips

Scissors (slang).

Dingle fakir

A bell-hanger.

Dunnovans

Potatoes.

Fay (vulgarlyfee)

Meat.

Our informant declared that there are vulgar forms of certain words.

Gladdher

Ring the changes (cheat in change).

“No minkler would have a bewr who couldn’t gladdher.”

Reesbin

Prison.

Tré-moon

Three months, a ‘drag.’

Rauniel, Runniel

Beer.

Max

Spirits (slang).

Chiv

Knife. (Romany, a pointed knife,i.e. tongue.)

Thari

To speak or tell.

“I tharied the soobri I sonnied him.” (I told the man I saw him.)

Mushgraw.

Our informant did not know whether this word, of Romany origin, meant, in Shelta, policeman or magistrate.

Scri, scree

To write.

Our informant suggestedscribeas the origin of this word.

Reader

A writ.

“You’re readered soobri.” (You are put in the “Police Gazette,” friend.)

Our informant could give only a single specimen of the Shelta literature. It was as follows:—

“My name is Barney Mucafee,With my borers and jumpers down to my thee (thigh).An’ it’s forty miles I’ve come to kerrb yer pee.”

This vocabulary is, as he declared, an extremely imperfect specimen of the language. He did not claim to speak it well. In its purity it is not mingled with Romany or thieves’ slang. Perhaps some student of English dialects may yet succeed in recovering it all. The pronunciation of many of the words is singular, and very different from English or Romany.

Just as the last word was written down, there came up a woman, a female tramp of the most hardenedkind. It seldom happens that gentlemen sit down in familiar friendly converse with vagabonds. When they do they are almost always religious people, anxious to talk with the poor for the good of their souls. The talk generally ends with a charitable gift. Such was the view (as the vagabond afterwards told us) which she took of our party. I also infer that she thought we must be very verdant and an easy prey. Almost without preliminary greeting she told us that she was in great straits,—suffering terribly,—and appealed to the man for confirmation, adding that if we would kindly lend her a sovereign it should be faithfully repaid in the morning.

The professor burst out laughing. But the fern-collector gazed at her in wrath and amazement.

“I say, old woman,” he cried; “do you know who you’rerakkerin[speaking] to? This here gentleman is one of the deepest Romany ryes [gypsy gentlemen] a-going. And that there one couldgladdheryou out of your eye-teeth.”

She gave one look of dismay,—I shall never forget that look,—and ran away. The witch had chanced upon Arbaces. I think that the tramp had been in his time a man in better position. He was possibly a lawyer’s clerk who had fallen into evil ways. He spoke English correctly when not addressing the beggar woman. There was in Aberystwith at the same time another fern-seller, an elderly man, as wretched and as ragged a creature as I ever met. Yet he also spoke English purely, and could give in Latin the names of all the plants which he sold. I have always supposed that the tinkers’ language spoken of by Shakespeare was Romany; but I now incline to think it may have been Shelta.

Time passed, and “the levis grene” had fallenthrice from the trees, and I had crossed the sea and was in my native city of Philadelphia. It was a great change after eleven years of Europe, during ten of which I had “homed,” as gypsies say, in England. The houses and the roads were old-new to me; there was something familiar-foreign in the voices and ways of those who had been my earliest friends; the very air as it blew hummed tunes which had lost tones in them that made me marvel. Yet even here I soon found traces of something which is the same all the world over, which goes ever on “as of ever,” and that was the wanderer of the road. Near the city are three distinct gypsyries, where in summer-time the wagon and the tent may be found; and ever and anon, in my walks about town, I found interesting varieties of vagabonds from every part of Europe. Italians of the most Bohemian type, who once had been like angels,—and truly only in this, that their visits of old were few and far between,—now swarmed as fruit dealers and boot-blacks in every lane; Germans were of course at home; Czechs, or Slavs, supposed to be Germans, gave unlimited facilities for Slavonian practice; while tinkers, almost unknown in 1860, had in 1880 become marvelously common, and strange to say were nearly all Austrians of different kinds. And yet not quite all, and it was lucky for me they were not. For one morning, as I went into the large garden which lies around the house wherein I wone, I heard by the honeysuckle and grape-vine a familiar sound,—suggestive of the road and Romanys and London, and all that is most traveler-esque. It was the tap, tap, tap of a hammer and the clang of tin, and I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curled at the end of the garden a tinker was near. And I advanced to him, and as he glanced up andgreeted, I read in his Irish face long rambles on the roads.

“Good-morning!”

“Good-mornin’, sorr!”

“You’re an old traveler?”

“I am, sorr.”

“Can you rakker Romanes?”

“I can, sorr!”

“Pen yer nav.” (Tell your name.)

“Owen ---, sorr.”

A brief conversation ensued, during which we ascertained that we had many friends in common in thepuro temor Ould Country. All at once a thought struck me, and I exclaimed,—

“Do you know any other languages?”

“Yes, sorr: Ould Irish an’ Welsh, an’ a little Gaelic.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes, sorr, all av thim.”

“All but one?”

“An’ what’s that wan, sorr?”

“Can youthari shelta,sublī?”

No tinker was ever yet astonished at anything. If he could be he would not be a tinker. If the coals in his stove were to turn to lumps of gold in a twinkle, he would proceed with leisurely action to rake them out and prepare them for sale, and never indicate by a word or a wink that anything remarkable had occurred. But Owen the tinker looked steadily at me for an instant, as if to see what manner of man I might be, and then said,—

“Shelta, is it? An’ I can talk it. An’ there’s not six min livin’ as can talk it as I do.”

“Do you know, I think it’s very remarkable that you can talk Shelta.”

“An’ begorra, I think it’s very remarkable, sorr, that ye should know there is such a language.”

“Will you give me a lesson?”

“Troth I will.”

I went into the house and brought out a note-book. One of the servants brought me a chair. Owen went on soldering a tin dish, and I proceeded to take down from him the following list of words inShelta:

Théddy

Fire (theinne. Irish).

Strawn

Tin.

Blyhunka

Horse.

Leicheen

Girl.

Soobli

Male, man.

Binny soobli

Boy.

Binny

Small.

Chimmel

Stick.

Gh’ratha, grata

Hat.

Griffin, or gruffin

Coat.

Réspes

Trousers.

Gullemnocks

Shoes.

Grascot

Waistcoat.

Skoich, or skoi

Button.

Numpa

Sovereign, one pound.

Gorhead, or godhed

Money.

Merrih

Nose (?).

Nyock

Head.

Graigh

Hair.

Kainé, or kyni

Ears (Romany,kan).

Mélthog

Inner shirt.

Médthel

Black.

Cunnels

Potatoes.

Faihé, or feyé

Meat (féoil. Gaelic).

Muogh

Pig (muck. Irish).

Miesli, misli

To go (origin of “mizzle”?)

Mailyas, or moillhas

Fingers (meirleach, stealers Gaelic).

Shaidyog

Policeman.

Réspun

To steal.

Shoich

Water, blood, liquid.

Alemnoch

Milk.

Räglan, or réglan

Hammer.

Goppa

Furnace, smith (gobha, a smith. Gaelic).

Terry

A heating-iron.

Khoi

Pincers.

Chimmes (comparechimmel)

Wood or stick.

Mailyas

Arms.

Koras

Legs (cos, leg. Gaelic).

Skoihōpa

Whisky.

Bulla (ullas ingull)

A letter.

Thari

Word, language.

Mush

Umbrella (slang).

Lyesken cherps

Telling fortunes.

Loshools

Flowers (lus, erb or flower? Gaelic).

Dainoch

To lose.

Chaldroch

Knife (caldock, sharply pointed. Gaelic).

Bog

To get.

Masheen

Cat.

Cāmbra

Dog.

Laprogh

Goose, duck.

Kaldthog

Hen.

Rumogh

Egg.

Kiéna

House (ken, old gypsy and modern cant).

Rawg

Wagon.

Gullemnoch

Shoes.

Anālt

To sweep, to broom.

Anālken

To wash.

D’erri

Bread.

R’ghoglin (gogh’leen)

To laugh.

Krädyin

To stop, stay, sit, lodge, remain.

Oura

Town.

Lashool

Nice (lachool. Irish).

Moïnni, or moryeni

Good (min, pleasant. Gaelic).

Moryenni yook

Good man.

Gyami

Bad (cam. Gaelic). Probably the origin of the common canting termgammy, bad.

Ishkimmisk

Drunk (misgeach. Gaelic)

Roglan

A four-wheeled vehicle.

Lorch

A two-wheeled vehicle.

Smuggle

Anvil.

Granya

Nail.

Riaglon

Iron.

Gūshūk

Vessel of any kind.

Tédhi, thédi

Coal; fuel of any kind.

Grawder

Solder.

Tanyok

Halfpenny.

(Querytāni, little, Romany, andnyok, a head.)

Chlorhin

To hear.

Sūnain

To see.

Salkaneoch

To taste, take.

Mailyen

To feel (cumail, to hold. Gaelic).

Crowder

String.

Sobyé

(?)

Mislain

Raining (mizzle?).

Goo-ope, gūop

Cold.

Skoichen

Rain.

Thomyok

Magistrate.

Shadyog

Police.

Bladhunk

Prison.

Bogh

To get.

Salt

Arrested, taken.

Straihmed

A year.

Gotherna, guttema

[A very rare old word.]

Policeman.

Dyūkās, or Jukas

Gorgio, Gentile; one not of the class.

Misli

Coming, to come, to send.

To my-deal

To me.

Lychyen

People.

Grannis

Know.

Skolaia

To write.

Skolaiyami

A good scholar.

Nyok

Head.

Lurk

Eye.

Menoch

Nose.

Glorhoch

Ear.

Koris

Feet.

Tashi shingomai

To read the newspaper.

Gorheid

Money.

Tomgarheid (i.e.big money)

Gold.

Skawfer, skawper

Silver.

Tomnumpa

Bank-note.

Terri

Coal.

Ghoi

Put.

Nyadas

Table.

Kradyin

Being, lying.

Tarryin

Rope.

Kor’heh

Box.

Miseli

Quick.

Krad’hyī

Slow.

Th-mddusk

Door.

Khaihed

Chair (khahir. Irish).

Bord

Table.

Grainyog

Window.

Rūmog

Egg.

Aidh

Butter.

Okonneh

A priest. Thus explained in a very Irish manner: “Okonneh, orKoony,isasacredman, andkunīin Romany means secret. An’ sacret and sacred, sure, are all the same.”

Shliéma

Smoke, pipe.

Munches

Tobacco.

Khadyogs

Stones.

Yiesk

Fish (iasg. Gaelic).

Cāb

Cabbage.

Cherpin

Book. This appears to be vulgar.Llyowerwas on second thought declared to be the right word. (Leabhar, Gaelic.)

Misli dainoch

To write a letter; to write; that is, send or go.

Misli to my bewr

Write to my woman.

Gritche

Dinner.

Gruppa

Supper.

Goihed

To leave, lay down.

Lūrks

Eyes.

Ainoch

Thing.

Clisp

To fall, let fall.

Clishpen

To break by letting fall.

Guth, gūt

Black.

Gothni, gachlin

Child.

Styémon

Rat.

Krépoch

Cat.

Grannien

With child.

Loshūb

Sweet.

Shum

To own.

L’yogh

To lose.

Crīmūm

Sheep.

Khadyog

Stone.

Nglou

Nail.

Gial

Yellow, red.

Talosk

Weather.

Laprogh

Bird.

Madel

Tail.

Carob

To cut.

Lūbran, luber

To hit.

Thom

Violently.

Mish it thom

Hit it hard.

Subli, or soobli

Man (siublach, a vagrant. Gaelic).

There you are, readers! Make good cheer of it, as Panurge said of what was beyond him. For what this language really is passeth me and mine. Of Celtic origin it surely is, for Owen gave me every syllable so garnished with gutturals that I, being even less of one of the Celtes than a Chinaman, have not succeeded in writing a single word according to his pronunciation of it. Thus even Minklers sounds more likeminkias, orpikias, as he gave it.

To the foregoing I add the numerals and a few phrases:—

Hain, or heen

One.

Two.

Tri

Three.

Ch’air, or k’hair

Four.

Cood

Five.

Shé, or shay

Six.

Schaacht, or schach’

Seven.

Ocht

Eight.

Ayen, or nai

Nine.

Dy’ai, djai, or dai

Ten.

Hinniadh

Eleven.

Do yed’h

Twelve.

Trin yedh

Thirteen.

K’hair yedh, etc.

Fourteen, etc.

Tat ’th chesin ogomsa

That belongs to me.

Grannis to my deal

It belongs to me.

Dioch maa krady in in this nadas

I am staying here.

Tash émilesh

He is staying there.

Boghin the brass

Cooking the food.

My deal is mislin

I am going.

The nidias of the kiéna don’t granny what we’re a tharyin

The people of the house don’t know what we’re saying.

This was said within hearing of and in reference to a bevy of servants, of every hue save white, who were in full view in the kitchen, and who were manifestly deeply interested and delighted in our interview, as well as in the constant use of my note-book, and our conference in an unknown tongue, since Owen and I spoke frequently in Romany.

That bhoghd out yer mailya

You let that fall from your hand.

I also obtained a verse of a ballad, which I may not literally render into pure English:—

“Cosson kailyah corrum me morro sari,Me gul ogalyach mir;Rāhet mānent trasha morochMe tu sosti mo dīēle.”“Coming from Galway, tired and weary,I met a woman;I’ll go bail by this time to-morrow,You’ll have had enough of me.”

“Cosson kailyah corrum me morro sari,Me gul ogalyach mir;Rāhet mānent trasha morochMe tu sosti mo dīēle.”

“Coming from Galway, tired and weary,I met a woman;I’ll go bail by this time to-morrow,You’ll have had enough of me.”

Me tu sosti, “Thou shalt be (of) me,” is Romany, which is freely used in Shelta.

The question which I cannot solve is, On which of the Celtic languages is this jargon based? My informant declares that it is quite independent of OldIrish, Welsh, or Gaelic. In pronunciation it appears to be almost identical with the latter; but while there are Gaelic words in it, it is certain that much examination and inquiry have failed to show that it is contained in that language. That it is “the talk of the ould Picts—thim that built the stone houses like beehives”—is, I confess, too conjectural for a philologist. I have no doubt that when the Picts were suppressed thousands of them must have become wandering outlaws, like the Romany, and that their language in time became a secret tongue of vagabonds on the roads. This is the history of many such lingoes; but unfortunately Owen’s opinion, even if it be legendary, will not prove that the Painted People spoke the Shelta tongue. I must call attention, however, to one or two curious points. I have spoken of Shelta as a jargon; but it is, in fact, a language, for it can be spoken grammatically and without using English or Romany. And again, there is a corrupt method of pronouncing it, according to English, while correctly enunciated it is purely Celtic in sound. More than this I have naught to say.

Shelta is perhaps the last Old British dialect as yet existing which has thus far remained undiscovered. There is no hint of it in John Camden Hotten’s Slang Dictionary, nor has it been recognized by the Dialect Society. Mr. Simson, had he known the “Tinklers” better, would have found that not Romany, but Shelta, was the really secret language which they employed, although Romany is also more or less familiar to them all. To me there is in it something very weird and strange. I cannot well say why; it seems as if it might be spoken by witches and talking toads, and uttered by the Druid stones, which arefabled to come down by moonlight to the water-side to drink, and who will, if surprised during their walk, answer any questions. Anent which I would fain ask my Spiritualist friends one which I have long yearned to put. Since you, my dear ghost-raisers, can call spirits from the vasty deep of the outside-most beyond, will you not—having many millions from which to call—raise up one of the Pictish race, and, having brought it in from theEwigkeit, take down a vocabulary of the language? Let it be a ladypar préference,—the fair being by far the more fluent in words. Moreover, it is probable that as the Picts were a painted race, woman among them must have been very much to the fore, and that Madame Rachels occupied a high position with rouge, enamels, and other appliances to make them young and beautiful forever. According to Southey, the British blue-stocking is descended from these woad-stained ancestresses, which assertion dimly hints at their having been literary. In which case,voilà notre affaire! for then the business would be promptly done. Wizards of the secret spells, I adjure ye, raise me a Pictess for the sake of philology—and the picturesque!

[19]From the observations of Frederic Drew (The Northern Barrier of India, London, 1877) there can be little doubt that the Dom, or Dûm, belong to the pre-Aryan race or races of India. “They are described in the Shastras as Sopukh, or Dog-Eaters” (Types of India). I have somewhere met with the statement that the Dom was pre-Aryan, but allowed to rank as Hindoo on account of services rendered to the early conquerors.

[22]Up-stairs in this gentleman’s dialect signified up or upon, liketopPidgin-English.

[23]Puccasa, Sanskrit. Low, inferior. Given by Pliny E. Chase in hisSanskrit Analoguesas the root-word for several inferior animals.

[26]A Trip up the Volga to the Fair of Nijni-Novgovod. By H. A. Munro Butler Johnstone. 1875.

[42]Seven Years in the Deserts of America.

[61]In Old English Romany this is calleddorrikin; in common parade,dukkerin. Both forms are really old.

Flower-flag-nation man; that is, American.

[69a]Leadee, reads.

[69b]Dly, dry.

[69c]Lun, run.

[82]Diamonds true.O latcho bar(in England,tatcho bar), “the true or real stone,” is the gypsy for a diamond.

[97]Within a mile, Maginn lies buried, without a monument.

[108]Mashing, a word of gypsy origin (mashdva), meaning fascination by the eye, or taking in.

[125]Goerres,Christliche Mystik, i. 296. 1. 23.

[134]The Saxons in England, i. 3.

[159]Peru urphu! “Increase and multiply!”VideBodenschatzKirchliche Verfassung der Juden, part IV. ch. 4, sect. 2.

[209]The Past in the Present, part 2, lect. 3

[222]Yoma, fol. 21, col. 2.

[238]Zimbel. The cymbal of the Austrian gypsies is a stringed instrument, like the zitter.

[241]Crocus, in common slang an itinerant quack, mountebank, or seller of medicine;Pitcher, a street dealer.

[270]A briefresuméof the most characteristic gypsy mode of obtaining property.

[279]Lady, in gypsyrāni. The process of degradation is curiously marked in this language.Rāni(rawnee), in Hindi, is a queen.Rye, orrae, a gentleman, in its native land, is applicable to a nobleman, whilerashai, a clergyman, even of the smallest dissenting type, rises in the originalrishito a saint of the highest order.

[280]This was the very same affair and the same gypsies described and mentioned on page 383 ofIn Gypsy Tents, by Francis Hindes Groome, Edinburgh, 1880. I am well acquainted with them.

[285]Primulaveris: in GermanSchlüssel blume, that is, key flowers; also Mary’s-keys and keys of heaven. Both the primrose and tulip are believed in South Germany to be an Open Sesame to hidden treasure.

[292]Omar Khayyám,Rubaiyat.

Johnnykin and the Goblins. London: Macmillan.

[302a]VideJournal of the Royal Asiatic Society, vol. xvi. part 2, 1856 p. 285.

[302b]Die Zigeuner.

[307a]The Dialect of the English Gypsies.

[307b]I beg the reader to bear it in mind that all this is literally as it was given by an old gypsy, and that I am not responsible for its accuracy or inaccuracy.

Literally, the earth-sewer.

[317b]Kāli foki.Kālomeans, as in Hindustani, not only black, but also lazy. Pronouncedkaw-lo.

[319a]Gorgio. Gentile; any man not a gypsy. Possibly fromghora aji“Master white man,” Hindu. Used asgoiis applied by Hebrews to the unbelievers.

[319b]Romeli,rom’ni. Wandering, gypsying. It is remarkable thatremna, in Hindu, means to roam.

[320]Chollo-tem. Whole country, world.

[324]There is a great moral difference, not only in the gypsy mind, but in that of the peasant, between stealing and poaching. But in fact, as regards the appropriation of poultry of any kind, a young English gypsy has neither more nor less scruple than other poor people of his class.

[325]Man lana, Hindostani: to set the heart upon.Manner, Eng. Gyp.: to encourage; also, to forbid.

[327]Chovihan, m.,chovihanī, fem., oftencho’ianorcho’ani, a witch. Probably from the Hindu’toanee, a witch, which has nearly the same pronunciation as the English gypsy word.

[335]Travels in Beloochistan and Scinde, p. 153.

[341a]English gypsies also call the moonshulandshone.

[341b]Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo, by Dr. Henry Rink. London 1875, p. 236.

Back to Index Next