"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
there _is_ a jib that ain't blown," he remarked reflectively. "Back
slang an' cantin' an' rhymin' is grown vulgar, and Italian always _was_
the lowest of the lot; thieves _kennick_ is genteel alongside of
organ-grinder's lingo, you know. Do _you_ know anythin' of Italian,
sir?"
"I can _rakker_ it pretty _flick_" (talk it tolerably), was my reply.
"Well I should never a _penned_ [thought] sitch a swell gent as you had
been down so low in the slums. Now _Romanes_ is 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 pilgrim
_outre-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 o dovo mush adoi a gavverin lester kokero_!" (Look at that man
there, hiding himself!) said the professor 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 sea
To 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 gallopas_ just now," he replied.
"And what is that?"
"Selling ferns. Don't you understand? That's what we call it in
_Minklers Thari_. That's tinkers' language. I thought as you knew
Romanes you might understand it. The right name for it is _Shelter_ or
_Shelta_."
Out came our note-books and pencils. So this was the _Shelter_ of 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 no great gift for languages.
I never could learn even French properly. I can conjugate the verb
_etre_,--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 to _bustle_."
"I see. _Bustle_ is 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 by _glantherin_. _Glantherin_ or _glad'herin_ is 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.
Biyeghin Stealing.
Biyeg To steal.
Biyeg th'eenik To steal the thing.
Crack A stick.
Monkery Country.
Prat Stop, stay, lodge.
Ned askan Lodging.
Glantherin (glad'herin) Money, swindling.
This word has a very peculiar pronunciation.
Sauni or sonni See.
Strepuck (reepuck) A harlot.
Strepuck 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.
Nyo(d)ghee A pound.
Sai, sy Sixpence.
Charrshom, Cherrshom, Tusheroon A crown.
Tre-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.
Larkin Girl.
Curious as perhaps indicating an affinity between the Hindustani _larki_,
a girl, and the gypsy _rakli_.
Snips Scissors (slang).
Dingle fakir A bell-hanger.
Dunnovans Potatoes.
Fay (_vulgarly_ fee) 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.
Tre-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 suggested _scribe_ as 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 hardened kind. 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're _rakkerin_
[speaking] to? This here gentleman is one of the deepest Romany ryes
[gypsy gentlemen] a-going. And that there one could _gladdher_ you 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 fallen thrice 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 and greeted, 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 the _puro tem_ or 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 you _thari shelta_, _subli_?"
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 in _Shelta_:
Theddy 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.
Respes Trousers.
Gullemnocks Shoes.
Grascot Waistcoat.
Skoich, or skoi Button.
Numpa Sovereign, one pound.
Gorhead, or godhed Money.
Merrih Nose (?).
Nyock Head.
Graigh Hair.
Kaine, or kyni Ears (Romany, _kan_).
Melthog Inner shirt.
Medthel Black.
Cunnels Potatoes.
Faihe, or feye Meat (_feoil_. Gaelic).
Muogh Pig (_muck_. Irish).
Miesli, misli To go (origin of "mizzle"?)
Mailyas, or moillhas Fingers (_meirleach_, stealers
Gaelic).
Shaidyog Policeman.
Respun To steal.
Shoich Water, blood, liquid.
Alemnoch Milk.
Raglan, or reglan Hammer.
Goppa Furnace, smith (_gobha_, a smith.
Gaelic).
Terry A heating-iron.
Khoi Pincers.
Chimmes (compare _chimmel_) Wood or stick.
Mailyas Arms.
Koras Legs (_cos_, leg. Gaelic).
Skoihopa Whisky.
Bulla (_ull_ as in _gull_) 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.
Cambra Dog.
Laprogh Goose, duck.
Kaldthog Hen.
Rumogh Egg.
Kiena House (_ken_, old gypsy and modern
cant).
Rawg Wagon.
Gullemnoch Shoes.
Analt To sweep, to broom.
Analken To wash.
D'erri Bread.
R'ghoglin (gogh'leen) To laugh.
Kradyin To stop, stay, sit, lodge, remain.
Oura Town.
Lashool Nice (_lachool_. Irish).
Moinni, or moryeni Good (_min_, pleasant. Gaelic).
Moryenni yook Good man.
Gyami Bad (_cam_. Gaelic). Probably the
origin of the common canting term
_gammy_, bad.
Ishkimmisk Drunk (_misgeach_. Gaelic)
Roglan A four-wheeled vehicle.
Lorch A two-wheeled vehicle.
Smuggle Anvil.
Granya Nail.
Riaglon Iron.
Gushuk Vessel of any kind.
Tedhi, thedi Coal; fuel of any kind.
Grawder Solder.
Tanyok Halfpenny.
(Query _tani_, little, Romany, and
_nyok_, a head.)
Chlorhin To hear.
Sunain To see.
Salkaneoch To taste, take.
Mailyen To feel (_cumail_, to hold. Gaelic).
Crowder String.
Sobye (?)
Mislain Raining (mizzle?).
Goo-ope, guop Cold.
Skoichen Rain.
Thomyok Magistrate.
Shadyog Police.
Bladhunk Prison.
Bogh To get.
Salt Arrested, taken.
Straihmed A year.
Gotherna, guttema Policeman.
[A very rare old word.]
Dyukas, 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'hyi Slow.
Th-mddusk Door.
Khaihed Chair (_khahir_. Irish).
Bord Table.
Grainyog Window.
Rumog Egg.
Aidh Butter.
Okonneh A priest. Thus explained in a very
Irish manner: "_Okonneh_, or _Koony_,
_is_ a _sacred_ man, and _kuni_ in
Romany means secret. An' sacret and
sacred, sure, are all the same."
Shliema Smoke, pipe.
Munches Tobacco.
Khadyogs Stones.
Yiesk Fish (_iasg_. Gaelic).
Cab Cabbage.
Cherpin Book. This appears to be vulgar.
_Llyower_ was 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.
Lurks Eyes.
Ainoch Thing.
Clisp To fall, let fall.
Clishpen To break by letting fall.
Guth, gut Black.
Gothni, gachlin Child.
Styemon Rat.
Krepoch Cat.
Grannien With child.
Loshub Sweet.
Shum To own.
L'yogh To lose.
Crimum Sheep.
Khadyog Stone.
Nglou Nail.
Gial Yellow, red.
Talosk Weather.
Laprogh Bird.
Madel Tail.
Carob To cut.
Lubran, 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 like _minkias_,
or _pikias_, as he gave it.