The moon was shining bright and clear upon Morley Down, covering every
rise on which its beams fell with soft and silvery light, and casting
every dell and opposite slope into dark broad shadow. From that height
a slight degree of mistiness appeared, hanging over the scene in the
valley; but above, all was clear; and the satellite of the earth was
so bountiful of her reflected rays, that our fellow-stars could
scarcely be seen in the sky, twinkling faintly, half eclipsed by her
excess of splendour. The scattered bushes and stunted hawthorns, and
the tumulus, with its clump of towering beeches, caught the rays; but,
with the peculiar effect of trees by moonlight, the latter seemed more
to absorb than to reflect the light, while their long deep shadows
cast upon the neighbouring ground, showed, at least, that they served
to intercept the beams. In many of the little pits and hollows of the
ground small pools of water had been formed; and so often did these
appear, glistening in the moonshine, in situations otherwise dark,
that it seemed as if the light sought out purposely the objects best
calculated to reflect it, and, like active benevolence in search of
humble merit, followed them into the dim and lowly abodes where they
had made their dwelling.
From these pools, however, the sand-pit in which the gipsies had
pitched their tents was free; and the only water it contained was
afforded by a small clear spring, which the labourers had cut through
in digging for the produce of the pit; and, which, welling from the
bank, fell into a clear small basin of yellow sand that would, in all
probability, have absorbed it speedily, had it not found a sudden
channel among some smooth stones and gravel, and thence wound away,
forced into a thousand meanders by the irregularity of the ground,
till, issuing forth upon the common, it pursued its course down the
hill, and, joined by several other brooks, poured no inconsiderable
addition into the river in the valley below. It, too, caught the
moonbeams and glanced brightly in them; but that was not the only
light that shone upon it, as it trickled down the bank, and rested in
its little basin below. A redder and less pure gleam was reflected
from its waters, for at about twenty yards from the source, close
under shelter of the high bank and overhanging bushes, the gipsies had
pitched their tents; and now, though the hour was nearly midnight,
they were just in the midst of those revels that often rise up from
many a moor and many a planting throughout old England, while the rest
of her denizens are fast asleep. The evening was as warm as if it had
been far earlier in the year; and although the wind was high it
whistled sheer over the pit, without visiting with its rude search the
corner thereof in which the race of wanderers had nested their
encampment. The very sound, however, and the freshness of the night
air, rendered the idea of a fire any thing but unpleasant; and in
three different spots of the gipsy encampment the blaze rose up and
the sticks crackled, while the pots, now withdrawn from the flame, the
bottles of various shapes that lay round, and the cups, some of tin,
some of horn, some of silver,[3] that circulated somewhat rapidly,
told that the last and merriest meal of the day had commenced.
---------------------
[Footnote 3: It is a peculiar trait in the character of the gipsies,
remarked, I believe, in every country where they are to be found, that
each individual strives to possess himself of something formed of one
of the precious metals, denying himself even necessaries to procure
it; and guarding it with a degree of care which the race extend to few
other things. By some writers it is asserted that these cups, or
ornaments, or other articles formed of gold or silver, descend from
generation to generation, and are never parted with except under
circumstances of the greatest necessity.]
---------------------
Three several groups had assembled round the three fires, and each had
its peculiar character. At that which burned in the middle of the
scene appeared Pharold, leaning upon the ground, with his elbow
supported by a projection of the bank, with a middle-aged woman on one
side, and the beautiful girl we have before mentioned on the other.
Two or three stout men, of from forty to fifty years, surrounded him;
and though joining boldly and freely in all that passed, it was
evident that they listened to him when he spoke with the respect due
to experience and command, and without any of that sullenness which we
have noticed in some of the younger members of the tribe who were with
him in the forest. Some more women completed that group; and, though
merry enough, it was evident, by their demeanour, that there sat the
eiders of the tribe. The next fire, at the door of a tent farther up
the pit, was surrounded by a different assemblage, though it was in
some degree mixed. At the entrance of the little hut itself appeared
the beldam whom we have seen acting as cook in the forest, and who on
that occasion, had shown some inclination towards a resistance of
Pharold's authority. Round about her were five or six sturdy young
men, from five-and-twenty to thirty, and five or six women; two of
whom did not appear to be more than eighteen or nineteen years of age,
while the rest were fine buxom brown dames of thirty-five or six. The
worthy lady of the hut, however, seemed now to have lost her acerbity;
and in a gay and jovial mood, with many a quip and many a jest, kept
all her younger auditors in a roar; though every now and then, with a
curl of the lip and a winking eye, she glanced towards the party at
the other fire, as if their graver conversation was the subject of her
merry sarcasm.
At the third fire appeared the younger part of the tribe, the boys and
girls of all ages, except those, indeed, who rested sleeping in the
huts; and this circle, the loud laughter and broad jokes of which were
sometimes checkered by the sounds of contention and affray, occasioned
by an old pack of cards, was presided by a strong handsome youth of
about nineteen or twenty, whose proper place would have been,
apparently, at the second fire. He was here, however, placed much
nearer to the first group; and this proximity gave him, every now and
then, an opportunity, in the intervals of teasing his younger
comrades, of looking over his shoulder at the beautiful girl we have
called Lena, who, as we have said, was leaning beside Pharold, and
listening with seeming attention to his discourse.
The whole three fires had assembled round them a much greater number
of the gipsy race than had been congregated in the wood where we first
saw them; and, in truth, a very formidable party was there gathered
together, who might have given not a little difficulty, and offered,
should their need have required it, no insignificant resistance,
either to game-keepers, constables, or police officers. Fourteen stout
men, in their prime of strength, with nine or ten boys capable of very
efficient service, were there met together, as well as a number of
women, whose arms were of no insignificant weight, and whose tongues
might have been more formidable still.
As it may be necessary, for various reasons, to afford a sample of the
sort of conversation which was taking place amongst the gipsies on
that night, we shall begin, on many accounts, with the second fire,
round which it appeared that a liquor, which smelt very like rum, had
been circulating with no retarded movements.
"Take it easy, take it easy, Dickon, my chick," said the old dame of
whom we have already spoken, addressing one of the sturdy young
vagabonds by whom she was surrounded: "never let's kick up a row among
ourselves, do you see. That's the right way to bring the beaks upon
us. He's a king of a fellow, too, that Pharold, though he do sometimes
look at one, when he's angry, as if the words were too big for his
throat--just as I've seen a fat cock turkey, when I've been nimming
him off the perch, and got him tight round the neck with both my hands
to stop his gabbling." The simile seemed to tickle the fancy of her
auditors, who interrupted her by a roar, which soon, however, died
away, and she proceeded. "He's a king of a fellow, though, and it
wouldn't do to make a split; besides, he knows more than common; and
the law's again it, too: so take it easy, Dickon, and I'll put you up
to a thing or two."
"Ay, do, mother, there's a good soul!" replied the young man. "Do you
see, I don't want to split with Pharold; but damn me if I go out
shooting at rabbits, and hares, and little devils like that, if I am
to give my word that I won't touch a deer if it comes across me."
"No, no, Dickie, never you meddle with nobody's dear," said the old
woman; "though Bill there, at the other fire," she added, dropping her
voice a little, and grinning significantly--"though Bill there, at the
other fire, seems to have a great fancy for Pharold's own dear." A low
laugh, whose suppressed tone argued that every one felt themselves on
dangerous ground, followed her jest, and she went on: "But,
howsomdever, Dick, never you meddle with nobody's deer, when you are
bid not--till the person that bade you is out of the way--do you see?
eh, Dicky, my boy?"
"Ay, that's something like now, Mother Gray," replied Dickon. "Do you
see, to-morrow, it seems, we must troop, half one way and half
t'other; and then, if I be not sent to a distance, and can get some
good fellows to help me, I'll bet a bob that I bring home two or three
as fat bucks as ever laid their haunches on the king's table--and
that's a better night's work than ever Pharold will do."
"Well, well, Dickon, you shall do it," replied the old dame: "you wait
quiet till to-morrow, and seem to think no more about it; and I will
get Lena to wheedle Pharold out of the way, if some of his own strange
jobs do not take him without; and you shall have free scope and fair
play for a night, my boy, anyhow--so the keepers may count their deer
the next morning, if they can."
"But suppose I am sent away," said the young man; "I would rather have
gone to-night by half."
"But you know you can't, Dickon," she replied; "and it would only make
a row to speak about it. We only go ten miles, any of us; and I will
take care of your ten miles, my chick. So keep snug; and, do you see,
there's no use of bringing up the deer to where we pitch. The shiners
are what we want; and Harry Saxon, who bags the pheasants and hares,
and who first gave me an inkling about the venison, will take the
beasts of us for so much a head, and send them up to the lord-mayor in
London. So to-morrow I'll be off early, and get the job arranged
proper, and have a cart and horse ready, do you see, Dickon."
Dickon rubbed his hands with much glee; and as it would seem that some
people are born to deer-stealing, he felt that satisfaction which all
men must feel when a prospect opens before them of their talents at
length having a free course. At that moment, however, two shots were
heard at no very great distance, but in the direction of the little
wooded promontory near Morley House, and the sound called forth some
symptoms of emotion in more than one of the party. Pharold listened,
drew in his eyes, and knit his brows hard, while Dickon vowed, with an
oath, "That fellow Hallet has gone down into Mrs. Falkland's
preserves, and will blow us all with his cursed gun. He might have
waited an hour or two."
Pharold listened still, but made no comment; and those by whom he was
surrounded seemed to suspend their own observations on the sound till
his were spoken. In the mean time, Dickon and the good dame, whom he
termed Mother Gray, proceeded with the edifying arrangements they had
been making, and had nearly completed their plan for getting Pharold
out of the way, stealing two or three deer from some of the
neighbouring grounds, and sending them up to the capital to supply his
majesty's burgher lieges in their necessity for fat venison. The exact
park which they were to plunder, and some other of the minor
considerations, were undergoing discussion, in which the whole party
round the fire took a friendly and zealous share; when one of Dickon's
comrades, who had been keeping an eye on Pharold's circle, touched him
on the shoulder, saying, "They are going to divide the money."
"They will not have so much to divide as we shall get to-morrow," said
Dickon; "I will answer for that."
"I don't know, I don't know, my chick," rejoined the worthy beldam;
"that Pharold is a knowing hand, and always gets more than any one
else, work for it how they will. How he gets it I am sure I don't
know; and I often think he must coin his skin into guineas, for my
part."
Now the complexion of the old dame herself, and of every one round
her, was as yellow as any one could desire; but that did not prevent
them all from enjoying the joke highly, simply, perhaps, because
Pharold's countenance might be a little brighter in hue than their
own. Several of them, however, now rose and approached the other fire,
at which the proposed division of gains was about to take place; for
it seemed that the tribe in question had retained many of the original
habits of their people which have been lost among other hordes.[4] One
after another, till the turn came to Pharold, the several gipsies
poured forth their acquisitions into this general fund. Silver and
copper were the principal metals that appeared in the collection,
though a few pieces of gold, consisting in general of coins of the
value of seven shillings or half a guinea, sparkled between; the
numbers who contributed, however, and the copious contributions of
small coin that some of them poured forth, gave the whole sum an
imposing amount; but when Pharold at length received the hat in which
it was collected, and drawing forth an old purse added between thirty
and forty golden pieces to the store, a murmur of joy and satisfaction
ran through the assembled gipsies.
---------------------
[Footnote 4: This habit is said still to exist among many of the gipsy
tribes; and some persons have not scrupled to assert, though
apparently without reason, that they carry their ideas of the
community of property to a somewhat licentious extent.]
---------------------
The partition next began; but it was not, as may be supposed,
perfectly equal. It was perfectly just, however; each received
according to the burdens upon him. The married man obtained a share
double in amount to that bestowed upon a single man: the mother
of a large family, even if her husband was no more, claimed in
proportion to the number of her offspring, and each orphan--of which
be it remarked, by one cause or another, there were several--- was
treated as a single man. The partition was made by Pharold himself
with rigorous equity; and though almost all the gipsies had gathered
round, and observed his proceedings with gleaming black eyes and eager
faces, none offered a word either of remonstrance or of information;
for all were not only convinced of his justice, but every one would
have felt shame to grumble at the award of one who, contributing more
than the whole together, only claimed the share of an individual.
When he had done, and the whole was distributed, Pharold addressed a
few words to his companions, such as the division which had just taken
place suggested. He told them that in this custom, as in all the
others which they themselves observed, they followed exactly the
manners of their fathers: and he praised, not without eloquence, the
sort of patriarchal state in which they lived. He lamented grievously,
however, that many of their nation were abandoning their ancient
habits; that some had even established themselves in fixed
dwelling-places, had submitted themselves to the laws, and had adopted
the manners, of the people amongst whom they dwelt. He besought those
who surrounded him to live as all their race had lived, and promised
that thus they would continue to be as prosperous as the division of
that night showed them to be at present.
"A curse upon our children," cried one middle-aged woman, "if they
quit the ways of their fathers, and go to live among the puny,
white-faced things of the lands: a curse upon them all! May their line
of life be crooked and broken off in the middle--full of crosses, and
ending in _Gehennel_!"
A murmur of approbation followed this denunciation; and the rest of
the gipsies retiring to their several fires, their carousings were
renewed, while Pharold related to those who more particularly
surrounded him a variety of melancholy facts relative to the
degeneracy of various gipsy tribes, who had fallen into the iniquity
of fixed dwelling-places, and many other abominations. He spoke of
much that he had seen in his own wanderings, and much that he had
heard from others; and his story became so interesting that a good
many of the younger of the race crept round to listen. This, however,
did not seem to suit his purpose; for he speedily broke off his
discourse, and, looking round him, exclaimed, in a voice loud
enough to be heard at each of the neighbouring fires, "Come, my men,
we are sad to-night, and that must not be. Will," he added, speaking
to the young man who, as we have said, presided over the younger
circle,--"Will, you are a songster, let us hear your voice."
William obeyed without hesitation; and while he went on with his song,
the old dame at the other fire continued conversing eagerly with her
favourite Dickon, in tones which were low in themselves, and which
were the better cut off from other ears by the rich fine voice of the
singer.
SONG.
In the gray of the dawn, when the moon has gone down,
Ere the sun has got up over country and town,
'Tis the time for the lover to steal to his dear,
In the heart-beating May of the incoming year.
_Chorus_.--In the gray of the dawn, &c.
In the gray of the dawn, when the fox is asleep,
And the foxes of cities in slumber are deep,
'Tis the time for the wise from his tent to walk out,
And to see what the rest of the world is about.
In the gray of the dawn, &c.
In the gray of the dawn, ere the milkmaid trips by,
To bring home the milk from the bright-coated kye,
Some earlier hand may have taken the pain
To render her milking all labour in vain.
In the gray of the dawn, &c.
In the gray of the dawn, if you'll meet me down by,
My own pretty maid with the dark gleaming eye,
We'll wander away far o'er mountain and plain,
And leave the old fools to look for us in vain.
In the gray of the dawn, &c.
In the gray of the dawn, if you'll not come to me,
My own pretty maid, by the green hawthorn tree,
You may stumble by chance o'er the corpse of your love,
As you trip with some other along the dim grove.
In the gray of the dawn, &c.
"You have changed the song, Will," said Pharold, as the other ended;
"you have added and taken away."
The young man reddened, but merely replied that he had forgot some
verses, and been obliged to put new ones; and Pharold, taking no
further notice, continued his conversation with his companions. In the
meantime, the consultation between the old lady and Dickon had gone on
throughout the song, and was still continued.
"Well, well, Dickon, my boy," rejoined the old lady to something that
her companion had said under cover of the singing, "keep a good tongue
in your head for a while, and we'll see what we can make of it. It is
a shame, indeed, that he should have his own way of getting so much
stuff, no one knows how--from the _Spirit_, I think--and prevent you
from following your way of getting some too, specially when it's all
to go with the rest. And he's proud of his way of getting money, too.
Did you see with what an air he poured the shiners in?"
"That I did, that I did," replied the other; "curse him! I'd get as
many as he, if he'd let me."
"Ay, but you see the thing is, Dick," she answered, "he gets it, no
one knows how, without ever saying a word about it to any one. Now,
you follow the same plan, my chick; and if he asks you, you can then
tell him to mind his own business. But hush, he's looking at us. Bid
Bill give us another stave."
"Bill," cried Dickon, "give us another touch of it, there's a good
'un. Sing us Old Dobbin, and then come here and take a swig of the
bingo with me and Mother Gray."
Bill was not at all reluctant, and without the slightest appearance of
bashful hesitation again began to pour fourth his fine voice in song.
The air, however, was of a very different kind, as far as expression
went, from that which he had formerly chosen, which had been somewhat
more sentimental and solemn than the words in general required, or
than might have been expected from the personage by whom it was sung.
In the present case, his tones were all lively, and the song seemed
well known to all his companions.
SONG.
1.
Lift your head, Robin!
Lift it and see,
Why shakes his bells, Dobbin,
Under the tree.
Why shakes his bells, Dobbin,
His old noddle bobbing,
As if there were strangers upon the green lea?
2.
Lie quiet, lie quiet,
Though danger be near,
If we make not a riot
There's nothing to fear.
If you will but try it,
And only lie quiet,
There is no harm will happen my own little dear.
3.
I have heard of the fairy
That walks in the night,
With a figure so airy
And fingers so light,
That though watch-dogs hairy
May sleep in the airy,
She will empty your hen-coops before morning light.
4.
I have heard of the witches
That ride in the dark,
And despite hedge and ditches
Get into the park;
Nim hares from their niches,
Without any hitches,
And think man-traps and spring-guns a toothless dog's bark.
5.
Then lift your head, Robin,
Lift it to find
Why the bells of old Dobbin
Sound on the night wind;
Then lift your head, Robin,
For my heart is throbbing,
About witches and fairies and things of the kind.
6.
Lie still, 'tis no fairy
That trips the green sod;
To hen-coop or dairy
No witch takes her road.
No, no! 'tis no fairy,
Nor anything airy;
Lie still and be silent, the _beaks_ are abroad!
This very edifying composition seemed to give infinitely greater
satisfaction to the generality of the gipsies than the former song had
done; and especially in those places where the singer contrived to
modulate his voice, so as to change the tone from the male to the
female, or from the female to the male, as the words required, the
approbation of his hearers was loud and vehement. Pharold alone
appeared somewhat gloomy upon the occasion; and were one to look into
his breast, which we do not intend to do very deeply on this occasion,
one might see a strange and bitter contest between early feelings,
habits, and inclinations, and refinements and tastes acquired from the
most opposite sources--a state of things so discordant in all their
elements, that nothing but an originally wild and eccentric nature
could have endured its existence in the same bosom. Some one has said,
"_Malheureux celui qui est en avant de son siecle_;" and it certainly
might be said, in every class of society, "_Malheureux celui qui est
au-dessus de son etat_." Pharold then became gloomy, and felt
disgusted at things which amused and interested his companions; nor,
perhaps, was his gloom decreased by seeing that the beautiful young
companion who leaned beside him was as much pleased and amused as the
rest.
"I thought that I had taught you to despise such things, Lena," he
said in a low tone, and with somewhat of a frowning brow.
"Yes, yes," she replied, colouring brightly; "and so I do, when I
think; but yet--"
She was interrupted by the man named Dickon, who gave a low whistle,
and exclaimed at the same time, repeating apart of his companion's
song,--
Lift your head, Robin,
Lift it and see,
Why shakes his bells, Dobbin,
Under the tree!
And almost at the same moment one of the horses, of which the gipsies
had several feeding upon the common just above, repeated a low neigh,
which had been heard in the first instance by Dickon, as he was
called, alone. All was instantly silent; and then the jumping sort of
noise which a horse with a clog upon his feet makes, when endeavouring
to go fast, was heard from the common; and Pharold's practised ear
could also distinguish, proceeding from the gravel of the road, the
sound of a man's footstep, the near approach of which had probably
frightened the horse.
"Jump up, Will," he cried quickly, addressing the singer; "jump up,
and see who it is. Stop him up there! If he want me, whistle twice; if
you want help, whistle once!"
The young man was up the bank in a moment; but the length of time that
elapsed before they heard any farther sound made them at first fancy
that they had been mistaken in thinking that any one approached, and
then showed them that in the clear silence of the night the sounds had
made themselves heard farther than they had at first imagined. All
kept a profound silence; but, after the lapse of about a minute, the
murmur of distant voices was distinguished, and then came a low long
whistle. Every one started on his feet, but the next moment a second
whistle was heard, and Pharold said calmly, "It is for me! I may be
absent, perhaps, for an hour or so: but as the young man has come
to-night instead of to-morrow, we will set off all the earlier in the
morning."
He spoke to one of the elder men near him; but in a tone of voice loud
enough to be heard by those around. Dickon and Mother Gray gave each
other a look; and when Pharold slowly took his way up the bank she
stuck her tongue into her toothless cheek with very little of that
reverence in her looks which she sometimes professed for the leader of
the tribe.
Soon after he was gone the young man called Will returned; and was
questioned by several of the gipsies regarding the stranger who had
intruded upon them at so late an hour. All that he could or would
reply was, that he was a young fellow with a sword by his side, and
that he had walked away with Pharold; with which tidings they were
forced to content themselves, and their revels went on and concluded
much as they had begun.