Chapter XIII: Part IV: Gipsy Life in a Variety of Aspects (1)

[Picture: A Gipsy's van near Notting Hill, Latimer Road]

In Part III. I have endeavoured, as well as I have been able, to show some of the agencies that have been set in motion during the last three centuries for and against the Gipsies, with a view to their extermination, by the hang-man, to their being reclaimed by the religious zeal and fervour of the minister, and to their improvement by the artificial means of poetry, fiction, and romance. First, the persecution dealt out to the Gipsies in this, as well as other countries, during a period of several centuries, although to a large extent brought upon themselves by their horrible system of lying and deception, neither exterminated them nor improved their habits; but, on the contrary, they increased and spread like mushrooms; the oftener they were trampled upon the more they seemed to thrive; the more they were hated, hunted, and driven into hiding-places the oftener these sly, fortune-telling, lying foxes would be seen sneaking across our path, ready to grab our chickens and young turkeys as opportunities presented themselves. Second, that when stern justice said "it is enough," persecution hanging down its hands and revenge drooping her head, a few noble-hearted men, filled with missionary zeal, took up the cause of the Gipsies for a period of nearly forty years in various forms and ways at the end of the last and the commencement of the present century. Except in a few isolated cases, they also failed in producing any noticeable change in either the moral, social, or religious condition of the Gipsies, and with the death of Hoyland, Borrow, Crabb, Roberts, and others, died the last flicker of a flickering light that was to lead these poor, deluded, benighted heathen wanderers upon a road to usefulness, honesty, uprightness, and industry. Third, that on the decline of religious zeal, fervour, and philanthropy on behalf of the Gipsies more than forty years ago the spasmodic efforts of poets, novelists, and dramatists, in a variety of forms of fiction and romance, came to the front, to lead them to the goal through a lot of questionable by-lanes, queer places, and artificial lights, the result being that these melodramatic personages have left the Gipsies in a more pitiable condition than they were before they took up their cause, although they, in doing so, put "two faces under one hat," blessing and cursing, smiling and frowning, all in one breath, praising their faults and sins, and damning their _few_ virtues. In fact, to such a degree have fiction writers painted the black side of a Gipsy's life, habits, and character in glowing colours that, to take another 20,000 men, women, and children out of our back slums and sink-gutters and write the word "Gipsy" upon their back, instead of "scamp," and send them through the country with a few donkeys, some long sticks, old blankets and rags, dark eyes, dirty faces, filthy bodies, short petticoats, and old scarlet hoods and cloaks, you would in fifty years make this country not worth living in. It is my decided conviction that unless we are careful, and take the "bull by the horns," and compel them to educate their children, and to put their habitations, tents, and vans under better sanitary arrangements, we shall be fostering seeds in these dregs of society that will one day put a stop to the work of civilisation, and bring to an end the advance in arts, science, laws, and commerce that have been making such rapid strides in this country of late years.

It is more pleasant to human nature to sit upon a stile on a midsummer eve, down a country lane, in the twilight, as the shades of evening are gathering around you, the stars twinkling over head, the little silver stream rippling over the pebbles at your feet in sounds like the distant warbling of the lark, and the sweet notes of the nightingale ringing in your ears, than to visit the abodes of misery, filth, and squalor among the Gipsies in their wigwams. It is more agreeable to the soft parts of our hearts and our finer feelings to listen to the melody and harmony of lively, lovely damsels as they send forth their enchanting strains than to hear the cries of the poor little, dirty Gipsy children sending forth their piteous moans for bread. It is more delightful to the poetic and sentimental parts of our nature to guide over the stepping-stones a number of bright, sharp, clean, lively, interesting, little dears, with their "hoops," "shuttle-cocks," and "battle-doors," than to be seated among a lot of little ragged, half-starved Gipsy children, who have never known what soap, water, and comb are. It is more in harmony with our sensibilities to sit and listen to the drollery, wit, sarcasm, and fun of _Punch_ than to the horrible tales of blood, revenge, immorality, and murder that some of the adult Gipsies delight in setting forth. It is more in accordance with our feelings to sit and admire the innocent, angelic being, the perfection of the good and beautiful, than to sit by the hardened, wicked, ugly, old Gipsy woman who has spent a lifetime in sin and debauchery, cursing the God who made her as she expires. Nevertheless, these things have to be done if we are to have the angelic beings from the other world ministering to our wants, and wafting us home as we leave our tenement of clay behind to receive the "Well done."

I will now, as we pass along, endeavour to show what the actual condition of the Gipsies has been in the past, and what it is at the present time, which, in some cases, has been touched upon previously, with reference to the moral, social, and religious traits in their character that go to the making up of a MAN--the noblest work of God. The peculiar fascinating charms about them, conjured up by ethnologists and philologists, I will leave for those learned gentlemen to deal with as they may think well. I will, however, say that, as regards their so-called language, it is neither more nor less than gibberish, not "full of sound and fury signifying nothing," but full of "sound and fury" signifying something. They never converse with it openly among themselves for a good purpose, as the Frenchmen, Germans, Turks, Spaniards, or other foreigners do. Some of the old Gipsies have a thousand or more leading words made up from various sources, English, French, German, Spanish, Indian, &c., which they teach their children, and use in the presence of strangers with a certain amount of pride, and, at the same time, to throw dust into their eyes while the Gipsies are talking among themselves. They will in the same breath bless you in English and curse you in Romany; this I experienced myself lately while sitting in a tent among a dozen uninteresting-looking Gipsies, while they one and all were thanking me for taking steps to get the children educated. There was one among them who with a smile upon his face, was cursing me in Romany from his heart. Many writers differ in the spelling and pronunciation of Gipsy words, and what strikes me as remarkable is, the Gipsies themselves are equally confused upon these points. No doubt the confusion in the minds of writers arises principally from the fact that they have had their information from ignorant, lying, deceiving Gipsies. Almost all Gipsies have an inveterate hatred and jealousy towards each other, especially if one sets himself up as knowing more than John Jones in the next yard. One Gipsy would say paanengro-gujo means sailor, or water gentile, another Gipsy would say it means an Irishman, or potato gentile; another would say poovengri-gujo meant a sailor; another would say it means an Irishman. They glory in contradictions and mystification. I was at an encampment a few days ago, and out of the twenty-five men and women and forty children there were not three that could talk Romany, and there was not one who could spell a single word of it. Their language, like themselves, was Indian enough, no doubt, when they started on their pilgrimage many centuries ago; but, as a consequence of their mixing with the scum of other nations in their journey westward, the charm in their language and themselves has pretty nearly by this time vanished. If I were to attempt to write a book about their language it would not do the Gipsies one iota of good. "God bless you" are words the Gipsies very often use when showing their kindness for favours received, and, as a kind of test, I have tried to find out lately if there were any Gipsies round London who could tell me what these words were in Romany, and I have only found one who could perform the task. They all shake their heads and say, "Ours is not a language, only slang, which we use when required." Taking their slang generally, according to Grellmann, Hoyland, Borrow, Smart, and Crofton, there is certainly nothing very elevating about it. Worldliness, sensuality, and devilism are things helped forward by their gibberish. Words dealing with honesty, uprightness, fidelity, industry, religion, cleanliness, and love are very sparse.

William Stanley, a converted Gipsy, said, some years since, that "God bless you" was in Romany, Artmee Devillesty; Smart and Crofton say it is, Doovel, parav, parik toot, tooti. In another place they say it is Doovel jal toosa. Mrs. Simpson says it is, Mi-Doovel-kom-tooti. Mrs. Smith says it is Mi-Doovel Andy-Paratuta.

The following are the whole of the slang words Smart and Crofton have under the letters indicated, and which words are taken principally from Grellmann, Hoyland, Borrow, and Dr. Paspati:--

I.

I, Man, me, mandi, manghi.

Ill, Nasfelo, naffelo doosh.

Illness, Naffelopen.

Ill-tempered, Korni.

Imitation, Foshono.

Immediately, Kenaw sig.

In, Adre, dre, ando, inna.

Indebted, Pazerous.

Inflame, Katcher.

Injure, Dooka.

Inn, Kitchema.

Innkeeper, Kitchemengro.

Intestine, Venderi.

Into, Ande, adre, dre.

Ireland, Hindo-tem, Hinditemeskro-tem.

Irishman, Hindi-temengro, poovengri gaujo.

Irish Gipsy, Efage.

Iron, Saster, saasta, saashta.

Iron, Sastera.

Is, See.

It, Les.

Itch, Honj.

J.

Jail, Steripen.

Jews, Miduvelesto-mauromengri.

Jockey, Kestermengro.

Judgment, Bitchama.

Jump, Hokter hok oxta.

Jumper, Hoxterer.

Just now, Kenaw sig.

Justice of the peace, Chivlo-gaujo, chuvno-gaujo, pokenyus,
pookinyus.

K.

Keep, Righer, riker.

Kettle, Kekavvi, kavvi.

Key, Klerin klisin.

Kick, Del, de.

Kill, Maur.

Kin, Simensa.

Kind, Komelo komomuso.

King, Kralis.

Kingdom, Kralisom tem.

Kiss, Chooma.

Knee, Chong, choong.

Knife, Choori chivomengro chinomengro.

Knock, Koor, de.

Know, Jin.

Knowing, Yoki, jinomengro, jinomeskro.

Q.

Quarrel, Chingar.

Quarrel, Chingariben, godli.

Quart, Trooshni.

Queen, Kralisi krailisi.

Quick, Sig.

Quick, Be, Sigo toot, ressi toot kair abba.

Quietly, Shookar.

The following dozen words will show, in some degree, the fearful amount of ignorance there is amongst them, even when using the language of their mother country, for England is the mother country of the present race of Gipsies. For--

Expensive, Expencival.

Decide, Cide.

Advice, Device.

Dictionary, Dixen.

Equally, Ealfully.

Instructed, Indistructed.

Gentleman, Gemmen.

Daunted, Dauntment.

Spitefulness, Spiteliness.

Habeas Corpus, Hawcus paccus.

Increase, Increach.

Submit, Commist.

I cannot find joy, delight, eternity, innocent, ever, everlasting, endless, hereafter, and similar words, and, on inquiry, I find that many of the Gipsies do not believe in an eternity, future punishment, or rewards; this belief, no doubt, has its effects upon their morals in this life.

The opinion respecting the Gipsy language at the commencement of the present century was, that it was composed only of cant terms, or of what has been called the slang of beggars; much of this probably was promoted and strengthened by the dictionary contained in a pamphlet, entitled, "The Life and Adventures of Bamfylde Moore Carew." It consists for the most part of English words trumped up apparently not so much for the purpose of concealment as a burlesque. Even if used by this people at all, the introduction of this cant and slang as the genuine language of the community of Gipsies is a gross imposition on the public.

Rees, in his Encyclopaedia, 1819, describes the Gipsies as "impostors and jugglers forming a kind of commonwealth among themselves, who disguise themselves in uncouth habits, smearing their faces and bodies, and framing to themselves a canting language, wander up and down, and under pretence of telling fortunes, curing diseases, &c., abuse the common people, trick them of their money, and steal all that they come at."

Mr. Borrow, speaking of the Hungarian Gipsies in his "Zyncali," page 7, says:--"Hungary, though a country not a tenth part so extensive as the huge colossus of the Russian empire, whose Czar reigns over a hundred lands, contains perhaps as many Gipsies, it not being uncommon to find whole villages inhabited by this race. They likewise abound in the suburbs of the towns.

"In Hungary the feudal system still exists in all its pristine barbarity. In no country does the hard hand of oppression bear so heavy upon the lower classes--not even in Russia. The peasants of Russia are serfs, it is true, but their condition is enviable compared with that of the same class in the other country; they have certain rights and privileges, and are, upon the whole, happy and contented, at least, there, whilst the Hungarians are ground to powder. Two classes are free in Hungary to do almost what they please--the nobility and the Gipsies (the former are above the law, the latter below it). A toll is wrung from the hands of the hard working labourers, that most meritorious class, in passing over a bridge, for example, at Perth, which is not demanded from a well-dressed person, nor from Zingany, who have frequently no dress at all, and whose _insouciance_ stands in striking contrast with the trembling submission of the peasants. The Gipsy, wherever you find him, is an incomprehensible being, but nowhere more than in Hungary, where in the midst of slavery he is free, though apparently one step lower than the lowest slave. The habits of the Hungarian Gipsies are abominable; their hovels appear sinks of the vilest poverty and filth; their dress is at best rags; their food frequently of the vilest carrion, and occasionally, if report be true, still worse: thus they live in filth, in rags, in nakedness. The women are fortune-tellers. Of course both sexes are thieves of the first water. They roam where they list."

The "Chronicle of Bologna," printed about the year 1422, says:--"And of those who went to have their fortunes told few there were who had not their purses stolen, or some portion of their garments cut away. Their women also traversed the city six or eight together, entering the houses of the citizens, and diverting them with idle talk while one of the party secured whatever she could lay her hands upon. In the shops they pretended to buy, but in fact stole. They were amongst the cleverest thieves that the world contained. Be it noted that they were the most hideous crew ever seen in these parts. They were lean and black, and ate like pigs. The women wore mantles flung upon one shoulder, with only a vest underneath." Forli, who wrote about them about the same time as the "Chronicle of Bologna," does not seem to have liked them, and says they were not "even civilised, and resembling rather savage and untamed beasts."

A writer describes a visit to a Gipsy's tent as follows:--"We were in a wigwam which afforded us but miserable shelter from the inclemency of the season. The storm raged without; the tempest roared in the open country; the wind blew with violence, and whistled through the fissures of the cabin; the rain fell in torrents, and prevented us from continuing our route. Our host was an Indian with sparkling and intelligent eyes, clad with a certain elegance, and wrapped majestically in a large fur cloak. Seated close to the fire, which cast a reddish gleam through the interior of the wigwam, he felt himself all at once seized with an irresistible desire to imitate the convulsion of nature, and to sing his impressions. So taking hold of a drum which hung near his bed, he beat a slight rolling, resembling the distant sounds of an approaching storm, then raising his voice to a shrill treble, which he knew how to soften when he pleased, he imitated the whistling of the air, the creaking of the branches dashing against one another, and the particular noise produced by dead leaves when accumulated in compact masses on the ground. By degrees the rollings of the drum became more frequent and louder, the chants more sonorous and shrill; and at last our Indian shrieked, howled, and roared in the most frightful manner; he struggled and struck his instrument with extraordinary rapidity; it was a real tempest, to which nothing was wanting, not even the distant howling of the dogs, nor the bellowing of the affrighted buffaloes."

Mr. Leland, speaking of the Russian Gipsies near Moscow, says that after meeting them in public, and penetrating to their homes, they were altogether original, deeply interesting, and able to read and write, and have a wonderful capacity for music, and goes on to say that he speedily found the Russian Gipsies were as unaffected and childlike as they were gentle in manner, and that compared with our own prize-fighting, sturdy, begging, and always suspecting Gipsy roughs, as a delicate greyhound might compare with a very shrewd old bulldog trained by a fly tramp. Leland, in his article, speaking of one of the Russian Gipsy maidens, says:--"Miss Sarsha, who had a slight cast in one of her wild black eyes, which added something to the Gipsiness and roguery of her smiles, and who wore in a ring a large diamond, which seemed as if it might be the right eye in the wrong place, was what is called an earnest young lady, and with plenty to say and great energy wherewith to say it. What with her eyes, her diamond, her smiles, and her tongue, she constituted altogether a fine specimen of irrepressible fireworks."

Leland, referring to the musical abilities of the Russian Gipsies, in his article in "Macmillan's Magazine," November, 1879, says:--"These artists, with wonderful tact and untaught skill have succeeded in all their songs in combining the mysterious and maddening chorus of the true wild eastern music with that of regular and simple melody intelligible to every western ear." "I listened," says Leland, "to the strangest, wildest, and sweetest singing I ever had heard--the singing of Lurleis, of syrens, of witches. First, one damsel, with an exquisitely clear, firm voice began to sing a verse of a love ballad, and as it approached the end the chorus stole in, softly and unperceived, but with exquisite skill, until, in a few seconds, the summer breeze, murmuring melody over a rippling lake, seemed changed to a midnight tempest roaring over a stormy sea, in which the basso of the black captain pealed like thunder, and as it died away a second girl took up the melody, very sweetly, but with a little more excitement--it was like a gleam of moonlight on the still agitated waters--a strange contralto witch gleam, and then again the chorus and the storm, and then another solo yet sweeter, sadder, and stranger--the movement continually increasing, until all was fast, and wild, and mad--a locomotive quick step and then a sudden silence--sunlight--the storm had blown away;" and adds, "I could only think of those strange fits of excitement which thrill the Red Indian, and make him burst into song."

"After the first Gipsy lyric then came another to which the captain especially directed my attention as being what Sam. Petalengro calls 'The girl in the red chemise'--as well as I can recall his words. A very sweet song, with a simple but spirited chorus, and as the sympathetic electricity of excitement seized the performers we were all in a minute going down the rapids in a spring freshet. 'Sing, sir, sing!' cried my handsome neighbour, with her black Gipsy eyes sparkling fire."

Some excuse ought to be made for Leland getting into this wild state of excitement, for he had on his right and on his left, before and behind him, dark-eyed Gipsy beauties--as some would call them--among whom was one, the belle of the party, dressed in black silk attire, wafting in his face the enchanting fan of fascination till he was completely mesmerised. How different this hour's excitement to the twenty-three hours' reality!

The following is the full history of a remarkable case which has recently occurred in Russia, taken from the London daily papers last November, and it shows the way in which Gipsy witches and fortune-tellers are held and horribly treated in that country. It is quite evident that Gipsies and witches are not esteemed by the Russians like angels:--

Agrafena Ignatjewa was as a child simple and amiable, neither sharper
nor more stupid than all the other girls of her native village,
Wratschewo, in the Government of Novgorod. But the people of the
place having, from her early youth, made up their minds that she had
the "evil eye," nothing could eradicate that impression.

Being branded with this reputation, it naturally followed that powers
of divination and enchantment were attributed to her, including the
ability to afflict both men and animals with various plagues and
sicknesses.

In spite, however, of the supernatural skill with which she was
credited, she met with no suitor save a poor soldier. She accepted
him gladly, and going with him, shortly after her marriage, to St.
Petersburg, Wratschewo lost sight of her for some twelve years. She
was, however, by no means forgotten there, for when, after the death
of her husband, she again betook herself to the home of her
childhood, she found that her old reputation still clung to her. The
news of her return spread like wild-fire, and general disaster was
anticipated from her injurious spells. This, however, was, from
fear, talked of only behind her back, and dread of her at length
reached such a pitch that the villagers and their wives sent her
presents and assisted her in every way, hoping thereby to get into
her good graces, and so escape being practised upon by her infernal
arts. As she was now fifty years of age, somewhat weakly, and
therefore unable to earn a living, these attentions were by no means
unwelcome, and she therefore did nothing to disabuse her neighbours'
minds. Their superstition enabled her to live comfortably and
without care, and she knew very well that any assurances she might
give would not have produced the slightest effect.

A short time after her return to Wratschewo, several women fell ill.
This was, of course, laid at the door of Ignatjewa, particularly as
one of these women, the daughter of a peasant, had been attacked
immediately after being refused a slight favour by her. Whenever any
misfortune whatsoever happened in the village, all fingers pointed to
Ignatjewa as the source of it. At the beginning of the present year
a dismissed soldier, in the interest of the community, actually
instituted criminal proceedings against her before the local
urjadnik, the chief of the police of the district, the immediate
charge preferred being that she had bewitched his wife.

Meanwhile the feeling in the village against her became so
intensified that it was resolved by the people, pending the decision
on the complaint that had been lodged, to take the law into their
hands so far as to fasten her up in her cottage.

The execution of this resolve was not delayed a moment. Led by
Kauschin, Nikisorow, Starovij, and an old man of seventy, one
Schipensk, whose wife and daughters were at the time supposed to be
suffering from her witchcraft, a crowd of villagers set out on the
way to Ignatjewa's dwelling. Nikisorow had provided himself with
hammer and nails, and Iwanow with some chips of pinewood "to smoke
out the bad spirits." Finding the cottage door locked, they beat it
in, and while a portion of them nailed up the windows the remainder
crowded in and announced to the terrified woman that, by unanimous
decision, she was, for the present, to be kept fastened up in her
house. Some of them then proceeded to look through the rooms, where
they found, unfortunately, several bottles containing medicaments.
Believing these to be enchanted potions, and therefore conclusive
proofs of Ignatjewa's guilt, it was decided, on the suggestion of
Nikisorow, to burn her and her devilish work there and then. "We
must put an end to it," shouted the peasants in chorus; "if we let
her off now we shall be bewitched one and all."

Kauschin, who held in his hand a lighted chip of pine-wood, which he
had used "to smoke out the spirits" and to light him about the
premises, instantly applied it to a bundle of straw lying in a room,
after which all hastily left. Ignatjewa attempted in vain to follow
them. The agonised woman then tried to get out at the windows, but
these were already nailed up. In front of the cottage stood the
people, blankly staring at the spreading flames, and listening to the
cries of their victim without moving a muscle.

At this point Ignatjewa's brother came on the scene, and ran towards
the cottage to rescue his sister. But a dozen arms held him back.
"Don't let her out," shouted the venerable Schipensk, the husband and
father of the bewitched women. "I'll answer for it, that we won't,
father; we have put up with her long enough," replied one of the
band. "The Lord be praised!" exclaimed another, "let her burn away;
she bewitched my daughters too."

The little room in which Ignatjewa had taken refuge was not as yet
reached by the fire. Appeals were now made to her to confess herself
a witch, the brother joining, probably in the hope that if she did so
her life might be spared. "But I am entirely innocent," the poor
woman cried out. One of the bystanders, apparently the only one in
possession of his five senses, made another attempt at rescue, but
was hindered by the mob. He then, in loud tones, warned them of the
punishment which would certainly await them, but in vain, no
attention was paid to him. On the contrary, the progress of the
flames not appearing rapid enough, it was endeavoured to accelerate
it by shoving the snow from the roof and loosening the frame-work.
The fire now extended rapidly, one beam after another blazed up, and
at length the roof fell in on the wretched woman.

The ashes smouldered the whole night; on the following morning
nothing was found remaining but the charred bones of Ignatjewa.

The idea now, it would seem, occurred to the murderers that perhaps,
after all, their action had not been altogether lawful. They
accordingly resolved to bribe the local authority, who had already
viewed the scene of the affair, to hush it up. For this purpose they
made a collection, and handed him the proceeds, twenty-one roubles
ninety copecks. To their astonishment he did not accept the money,
but at once reported the horrible deed to his superior officer.
Sixteen of the villagers were, in consequence, brought up for trial
at Tichwin before the district court of Novgorod on the charge of
murdering Agrafena Ignatjewa, in the manner above described.

After a protracted hearing with jury the following result was arrived
at:--Kauschin, who had first set fire to the building; Starovij, who
had assisted in accelerating the burning; and Nikisorow, the prime
mover in the matter, who had nailed up the windows, were found
guilty, and sentenced by the judge to some slight ecclesiastical
penance, while the remaining thirteen, including the aged
Schipensk--who had used his influence to prevent a rescue--went scot
free.

The Spanish Gipsies, in Grellmann's day, would resort to the most wicked and inhuman practices. Before taking one of their horses to the fair they would make an incision in some secret part of the skin, through which they would blow the creature up till his flesh looked fat and plump, and then they would apply a strong sticking plaster to prevent the air escaping. Wolfgang Franz says they make use of another device with an eel. Grellmann says of the Spanish Gipsies in his day that dancing was another means of getting something; they generally practised dancing when they were begging, particularly if men were about the streets. Their dances were of the most disgusting kind that could be conceived; the most lascivious attitudes and gestures, young girls and married women, travelling with their fathers, would indulge in, to the extent of frisking about the streets in a state of nudity.

Further inquiries among the Gipsies more than ever satisfy me that my first statement last August, viz., that five per cent. of them could not read and write, is being more than fully borne out by facts brought under my notice; in fact, I question if there will be three per cent. of the Gipsies who can read and write. The following letter has been sent to me by a friend to show that there is one Gipsy in the country, at least, who knows how to put a letter together, and as it is somewhat of a curiosity I give it, as exactly as possible as I received it, of course leaving out the name, and without note or comment.

"Newtown Moor,
"the 22nd, 1877.

"Dear Sir,--

"I recivd your last Letter, and proude to say that I shall (if alls
well) endeavor to cum on the day mentioned. I shall start from hear
5.36 a.m., and be in Edinburgh betwen 3 and 4. I have no more to say
very particular, only feel proude of having the enviteation (we are
all well hear) with the exception of my little Daughter. She still
keeps about the same. I shall finish (this little bit) by sending
all our very kind love and respects to Mrs. --- and yourself.
Hopeing this will find you boath in good helth (I shall go on with a
little bit of something else) (by the way, a little filling up which
I hope you will parden me for taking up so much of your time.

"I am yours
"Very obediently,t
"WELSH HARPER.

(Now a little more about what my poor old mother leant me when a
child) and before I go on any further I want you (if you will be so
kind) as to perticullery--understand me--that the ch has a curious
sound--also the LR, as, for instence, chommay, in staid hommay, choy
in place of hoi. Chotche yoi instaid of _hotche_ yoi. Matteva ma
tot _in staid_ of lat eva ma tot and so on. I shall now commence
with the feminine and the musculin gender (but I must mind as I don't
put my foot in it) as you know a hundred times more than I do about
these last words--the same time the maight be a little picket up by
_them_. _Well_, hear goes to make a start. (You must not always
laugh.)

"Singular Feminine M. F. "Masculine gender. gender.

Dad Dai Dada Daia

Chavo Chai Chavay Chaia

Tieno Tienoy Tickna

Morsh Jovel Morsha Jovya

Gongeo Gangee Gongea Gongeya

Racloo Raclee

Raclay or Racklay

Pal Pen Palla Peoya

Pella Penya Cock Bebey

(I shall finish this) as you know yourself it will take me to long to
go on with more of it. I shall now sho how my poor mother use to
speak her English.

"THE WHOL FAMALY CAMPING WITH HORSES, DONKEYS, AND DOGS.

"On the first weakning in the morning (mother speaking to my Father
in the Tent)--"Now, man, weak dear Boys up to go and geather some
sticks to light the fire, and to see whare dem Hoses and Donkeys are.
I think I shoud some marshas helen a pray the Drom and coving the
collas out of the pub. Mother again--Now, boy, go and get some water
to put in the ole kettle for breakfast. The Boy--I davda--I must go
and do every bit a thing. Why don't you send dat gel to cer some
thing some times her crie chee tal only wishing talkay all the
blessed time. Mother, I am going to send her to the farm House for
milk (jack loses mony) when a Bran of fire is flying after him, and
he (the boy) over a big piece of wood, and hurts his knea.

"The girl goes for the milk (and she has a river to go threw) when
presently a Bull is heard roreng. Mother, dare now, boy, go and meet
your sister; does de Bull roreing after her. She will fall down in a
faint in de middle of de riber. Boy sar can I gal ear yoi ta ma
docadom me heroi ta shom quit leam (the old woman), go, man, go, man,
and stick has dat charey chai is a beling da da say dat dat is a very
bad after jovyas. Strenge men brings the Horses and donkeys up to
the tents, and begins to scould very much. (The little girl comes
with the milk.) The girl said to her brother that she may fall over
the wooden in the river for what he cared; yet the boy said that when
she would fall down she would chin a bit, and all the fish would come
and nibble at her. Horras and her bull; and then they began the
scrubble, and begins to scould her brother for not going to meet her,
when they boath have a scuffel over the fire, and very near knocks
the jockett over, when the boy hops away upon one leg, and hops upon
one of the dog's paws--un-seen--and dog runs away barking, and runs
himself near one of the Donkeys, and the Donkey gives him a kick,
until he is briging in the horse. The old woman: Dare now, dare now,
ockkie now chorro jocked mardo. Breakfast is over with a deal of
boather, and a little laughing and cursing and swaring.

"They strike the tents. (The old woman) Men chovolay nen sig waste
ja mangay. I am a faling a vaver drom codires, and you will meet me
near old Town. Be shewer and leave a _pattern_ by the side of the
cross road, if you sal be dare before me.

"(The old man and the Boys Pitches the Tents) and gets himself ready
to go to the Town. The old woman comes up, and one of the girls with
her--boath very tired and havey, loaded with _choben_ behind her
back, anugh to frighten waggens and carts of the road with her humpey
back.

"(They intend to stay in this delightfull camping place for a good
many days.) To day is soposid to be a very hot day, and a fare day
in a Town about three miles and a half from there. The old woman and
one of her Daughters goes out as usual. The old man takes a couple
of Horses to the Fare to try and sell. (The boys go a fishing.) The
day is very bright and hot. (The old man soon comes home.)

"One of the prityist girls takes a strol by herself down to a
butyfull streem of water to have herself a wash, and she begins
singing to the sound of a waterfall close by her, when all of a suden
a very nice looking young gentleman, who got tiard fishing in the
morning, and the day being very hot, took a bit of a lull on his
face, his basket on his back, and Fishing-rod by his side (the girl
did not see him) nor him her) until he was atracted by some strange
sound, when all of a instant he sprung upon his heels, and to his
surprise seen a most butyfull creature with her bear bosom and her
long black hair and butyfull black eyes, white teeth, and a butyfull
figure. He stared with all the eyes he had, and he made a advance
towards her, and when she seen him she stared also at him, and
aproaching slowly towards her and saying, from whence comest thou
hear, my butyfull maid (and staring at her butyfull figure) thinking
that she was some angel as droped down (when she with a pleasant
smile by showing her ivory and her sparkling eyes) Oh, my father's
tents are not fare off, and seen the day very warm I thought to have
a little wash.

"Gentleman Well indeed I have been fishing to day, and cot a few this
morning; but the day turned out so excesably hot I was obliged to go
in to a shade and have a sleep, but was alarmed at your sweet voice
mingling with the murmuring waters. They boath steer up to the camp,
when now and then as he is speaking to her on the road going up, a
loude and shrill laugh is heard many times--the same time he does not
sho the least sign of vulgaraty by taking any sort of liberty with
her whatever. They arrive at the tents, when one or the little boys
says to his dady Dady, dady, there is a rye a velin a pra. The
gentleman sitts himself down and pulls out a big Flask very near full
of Brandy and toboco, and offers to the old man.

"By this time that young girl goes in her Tent and pull down the
front, and presently out she comes butyfully dressed, which bewitched
the young gentleman, and he said that they were welcome to come there
to stop as long as they had a mind so as they would not tear the
Headges. He goes and leaves them highly delighted towards hime, and
he should pay them another visit. This camping ground belonged to
the young gentleman's father, and is situated in a butyfull part of
Derbyshire. One of the little girls sees two young ladys coming a
little sideways across the common from a gentleman's house which is
very near, which turns out to be the gentleman's two sisters. The
little girl, Mamey, mamey, der is doi Rawngas avelin accai atch a
pray. The young ladys comes to the tents and smiles, when the old
woman says to one of them, Good day, meyam, it's a very fine day,
meyam; shall I tell you a few words, meyam? The old woman takes them
on one side and tells them something just to please them, now and
then a word of truth, the rest a good lot of lies.

"The old man goes off for a stroll with a couple of dogs.

"One of the young boys asks his mother for some money, and she
refuses him, or says she has got none. The boy says, Where is the
000 pounds tooteys sold froom those doi Rawngas maw did accai I held
now from them they pend them not appopolar? One of the other
brothers says to him, Hear, Abraham, ile lend you 5s. Will you, my
blessed brother. Yes, I will; hear it is. Now we will boath of us
go to the gav togeather. One gets his fiddle ready and the other the
Tamareen. The harp is too heavy to carry. They go to call at the
post office for a chinginargery--they boath come home rather wary.

"The next day the Boys go a fishing again and bring home a good lot
(as the day was not near so hot as the day before) and comes home in
good time to play the harp and violin (and sometimes the Tambureen)
for the county gouges [green horns], as a good many comes to have a
dance on the green--the collection would be the boys pocket money.

"There is a great deal of amusement found by those that us to follow
Barns. The have many country people coming them to hear there music
and to dance on the green, or sometimes in the barn, but most oftener
in the house in a big kitchen, and the country people would be
staring at the collays, Gipsies, with all there eyes, and the Gipsies
would stare at the people to see them such Dinalays [fools].

"Those who followed Barns, us to call gentlemen's houses with the
Harps, and us to be called in and make a good thing of it.

"Dear Mr.--With your permission I will leave of now, and let you know
a little more when I come. Hoping that I have not trespased on your
time to read such follishness. All that I have written has happened.

"I again beg to remain,
"Yours very respectfully,
"WELSHANENGAY BORY BOSHAHENGBO.

[Hedge Fiddler.]

"I beg to acquaint you that I am the oldest living Welsh Harper in
the world at the present time. Mr. Thomas G---, Welsh Harper to the
Prince of Wales, is next to me."

It would be perhaps a difficult task to find a score of Gipsies out of the 15,000 to 20,000 there are in this country who can write as well as the foregoing letter.

The following may be considered a fair specimen of the high class or "Gentleman Gipsy," so much admired by those who have got the Gipsy spell round their necks, the Gipsy spectacles before their eyes, the Gipsy charm in their pocket, and who can see nothing but what is lively, charming, fascinating, and delightful in the Gipsy, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot. To those of my friends I present them with an account of Ryley Bosvil as a man after their own heart, at the same time I would call their attention to his ending, as related by Borrow.

Ryley Bosvil was a native of Yorkshire, a county where, as the Gipsies say, "There's a deadly sight of Bosvils." He was above the middle height, exceedingly strong and active, and one of the best riders in Yorkshire, which is saying a great deal. He was thoroughly versed in all the arts of the old race; he had two wives, never went to church, and considered that when a man died he was cast into the earth and there was an end of him. He frequently used to say that if any of his people became Gorgios he would kill them. He had a sister of the name of Clara, a nice, delicate girl, about fourteen years younger than himself, who travelled about with an aunt; this girl was noticed by a respectable Christian family, who, taking great interest in her, persuaded her to come and live with them. She was instructed by them, in the rudiments of the Christian religion, appeared delighted with her new friends, and promised never to leave them. After the lapse of about six weeks there was a knock at the door, and a dark man stood before it, who said he wanted Clara. Clara went out trembling, had some discourse with the man in an unknown tongue, and shortly returned in tears, and said that she must go. "What for?" said her friends. "Did you not promise to stay with us?" "I did so," said the girl, weeping more bitterly; "but that man is my brother, who says I must go with him; and what he says must be." So with her brother she departed, and her Christian friends never saw her again. What became of her? Was she made away with? Many thought she was, but she was not. Ryley put her into a light cart, drawn by a "flying pony," and hurried her across England, even to distant Norfolk, where he left her with three Gipsy women. With these women the writer found her encamped in a dark wood, and had much discourse with her both on Christian and Egyptian matters. She was very melancholy, bitterly regretted her having been compelled to quit her Christian friends, and said that she wished she had never been a Gipsy. She was exhorted to keep a firm grip of her Christianity, and was not seen again for a quarter of a century, when she was met on Epsom Downs on the Derby day, when the terrible horse, "Gladiateur," beat all the English steeds. She was then very much changed indeed, appearing as a full-blown Egyptian matron, with two very handsome daughters flaringly dressed in genuine Gipsy fashion, to whom she was giving motherly counsels as to the best means to _hok_ and _dukker_ the gentlefolk. All her Christianity she appeared to have flung to the dogs, for when the writer spoke to her on that very important subject she made no answer save by an indescribable Gipsy look. On other matters she was communicative enough, telling the writer, amongst other things, that since he saw her she had been twice married, and both times very well, for that her first husband, by whom she had the two daughters, whom the writer "kept staring at," was a man every inch of him, and her second, who was then on the Downs grinding knives with a machine he had, though he had not much manhood, being nearly eighty years old, had something much better, namely, a mint of money, which she hoped shortly to have in her possession.

Ryley, like most of the Bosvils, was a tinker by profession; but though a tinker, he was amazingly proud and haughty of heart. His grand ambition was to be a great man among his people, a Gipsy king (no such individuals as either Gipsy kings or queens ever existed). To this end he furnished himself with clothes made after the costliest Gipsy fashion; the two hinder buttons of the coat, which was of thick blue cloth, were broad gold pieces of Spain, generally called ounces; the fore-buttons were English "spaded guineas," the buttons of the waistcoat were half-guineas, and those of the collar and the wrists of his shirt were seven-shilling gold-pieces. In this coat he would frequently make his appearance on a magnificent horse, whose hoofs, like those of the steed of a Turkish Sultan, were cased in shoes of silver. How did he support such expense? it may be asked. Partly by driving a trade in "wafedo loovo," counterfeit coin, with which he was supplied by certain honest tradespeople of Brummagem; partly and principally by large sums of money which he received from his two wives, and which they obtained by the practice of certain arts peculiar to Gipsy females. One of his wives was a truly remarkable woman. She was of the Petalengro or Smith tribe. Her Christian name, if Christian name it can be called, was Xuri or Shuri, and from her exceeding smartness and cleverness she was generally called by the Gipsies Yocky Shuri--that is, smart or clever Shuri, Yocky being a Gipsy word signifying "clever." She could dukker--that is, tell fortunes--to perfection, by which alone, during the racing season, she could make a hundred pounds a month. She was good at the big hok--that is, at inducing people to put money into her hands in the hope of it being multiplied; and, oh, dear! how she could caur--that is, filch gold rings and trinkets from jewellers' cases, the kind of thing which the Spanish Gipsies call ustibar pastesas--filching with hands. Frequently she would disappear and travel about England, and Scotland too, dukkering, hokking, and cauring, and after the lapse of a month return and deliver to her husband, like a true and faithful wife, the proceeds of her industry. So no wonder that the Flying Tinker, as he was called, was enabled to cut a grand appearance. He was very fond of hunting, and would frequently join the field in regular hunting costume, save and except that instead of the leather hunting cap he wore one of fur, with a gold band round it, to denote that though he mixed with Gorgios he was still a Romany chal. Thus equipped, and mounted on a capital hunter, whenever he encountered a Gipsy encampment he would invariably dash through it, doing all the harm he could, in order, as he said, to let the juggals know that he was their king, and had a right to do what he pleased with his own. Things went on swimmingly for a great many years, but, as prosperity does not continue for ever, his dark hour came at last. His wives got into trouble in one or two expeditions, and his dealings in wafedo loovo to be noised about. Moreover, by his grand airs and violent proceedings, he had incurred the hatred of both Gorgios and Gipsies, particularly of the latter, some of whom he had ridden over and lamed for life. One day he addressed his two wives--

"The Gorgios seek to hang me,
The Gipsies seek to kill me;
This country we must leave."

SHURI.

"I'll join with you to heaven,
I'll fare with you, Yandors,
But not if Lura goes."

LURA.

"I'll join with you to heaven
And to the wicked country,
Though Shuri goeth too."

RYLEY.

"Since I must choose betwixt you,
My choice is Yocky Shuri,
Though Lura loves me best."

LURA.

"My blackest curse on Shuri;
Oh, Ryley, I'll not curse you,
But you will never thrive."

She then took her departure, with her cart and donkey, and Ryley remained with Shuri.

RYLEY.

"I've chosen now betwixt ye,
Your wish you now have gotten,
But for it you shall smart."

He then struck her with his fist on the cheek and broke her jaw-bone. Shuri uttered no cry or complaint, only mumbled--

"Although with broken jaw-bone,
I'll follow thee, my Riley,
Since Lura doesn't fal."

Thereupon Ryley and Yocky Shuri left Yorkshire and wended their way to London, where they took up their abode in the Gipsyry near Shepherd's Bush. Shuri went about dukkering and hokking, but not with the spirit of former times, for she was not quite so young as she had been, and her jaw, which was never properly cured, pained her very much. Ryley went about tinkering, but he was unacquainted with London and its neighbourhood, and did not get much to do. An old Gipsy man, who was driving about a little cart filled with skewers, saw him standing in a state of perplexity at a place where four roads met:--

OLD GIPSY.

"Methinks I see a brother.
Who's your father? Who's your mother?
And what be your name?"

RYLEY.

"A Bosvil was my father,
A Bosvil was my mother,
And Ryley is my name."

OLD GIPSY.

"I'm glad to see you, brother;
I am a kaulo camlo. {218a}
What service can I do?"

RYLEY.

"I'm jawing petulengring, {218b}
But do not know the country;
Perhaps you'll show me round."

OLD GIPSY.

"I'll sikker tulle prala!
Ino bikkening escouyor, {218c}
And av along with me."

The old Gipsy showed Ryley about the country for a week or two, and Ryley formed a kind of connection and did a little business. He, however, displayed little or no energy, was gloomy and dissatisfied, and frequently said that his heart was broken since he had left Yorkshire. Shuri did her best to cheer him, but without effect. Once when she bade him get up and exert himself, he said that if he did it would be of no use, and asked her whether she did not remember the parting prophecy of his other wife, that he would never thrive. At the end of about two years he ceased going his rounds, and did nothing but smoke under the arches of the railroad and loiter about beershops. At length he became very weak and took to his bed; doctors were called in by his faithful Shuri, but there is no remedy for a bruised spirit. A Methodist came and asked him, "What was his hope?" "My hope," said he, "is that when I am dead I shall be put into the ground, and my wife and children will weep over me," and such, it may be observed, is the last hope of every genuine Gipsy. His hope was gratified. Shuri and his children, of whom he had three--two stout young fellows and a girl--gave him a magnificent funeral, and screamed and shouted and wept over his grave. They then returned to the "arches," not to divide his property among them, and to quarrel about the division, according to Christian practice, but to destroy it. They killed his swift pony--still swift though twenty-seven years of age--and buried it deep in the ground without depriving it of its skin. Then they broke the caravan to pieces, making of the fragments a fire, on which they threw his bedding, carpets, curtains, blankets, and everything which would burn. Finally, they dashed his mirrors, china, and crockery to pieces, hacked his metal pots, dishes, and what not to bits, and flung the whole on the blazing pile. {219} Such was the life, such the death, and such were the funeral obsequies of Ryley Bosvil, a Gipsy who will be long remembered amongst the English Romany for his buttons, his two wives, grand airs, and last not least, for having been the composer of various stanzas in the Gipsy tongue, which have plenty of force if nothing else to recommend them. One of these, addressed to Yocky Shuri, runs as follows:--

"Beneath the bright sun there is none,
There is none
I love like my Yocky Shuri;
With the greatest delight in blood I would fight
To the knees for my Yocky Shuri."