CONTENTS

It is very possible that the reader . . . Zincali

"Are you of the least use?" . . . Lavengro

"People are becoming vastly sharp" . . . Lavengro

"Will you take a glass of wine?" . . . Lavengro

One day it happened . . . Lavengro

Because they have been known . . . Zincali

One fact has always struck us . . . Zincali

Many of them reside in caves . . . Zincali

It has always struck me . . . Lavengro

A sound was heard . . . Lavengro

After much feasting . . . Zincali

The English Gypsies . . . Zincali

"I say, Jasper!" . . . Romany Rye

"What is your opinion of death, Mr. Petulengro?" . . . Lavengro

Beating of women . . . Romany Rye

Of my wife . . . Wild Wales

In the summer. . . . Wild Wales

Fear God, and take your own part . . . Romany Rye

Soldiers and sailors . . Romany Rye

There they come, the bruisers . . . Lavengro

The writer now wishes . . . Romany Rye

"No," said I . . . Romany Rye

Oh, genial and gladdening! . . . Lavengro

On the whole . . . Romany Rye

On the following day . . . Romany Rye

The binding . . . Lavengro

I commenced the Bible in Spain . . . Zincali

And, as I wandered . . . Lavengro

At length the moon shone out . . . Bible in Spain

Upon the shoulder of the goatherd . . . Bible in Spain

I have always found . . . Bible in Spain

"C'est moi, mon maitre" . . . Bible in Spain

After travelling four days and nights . . . Bible in Spain

The posada. . . . Bible in Spain

The landlord brought the ale . . . Wild Wales

"Young gentleman" . . . Lavengro

Becoming soon tired . . . Wild Wales

Late in the afternoon . . . Bible in Spain

I had till then . . . Bible in Spain

"What mountains are those?" . . . Bible in Spain

We had scarcely been five minutes . . . Bible in Spain

I have heard talk . . . Lavengro

"Well," said the old man . . . Lavengro

I sat upon the bank . . . Lavengro

Ah, that Irish! . . . Lavengro

I said: "Now, Murtagh!" . . . Romany Rye

Here I interrupted . . . Romany Rye

"And who is Jerry Grant?" . . . Lavengro

"Is it a long time?" . . . Wild Wales

Now, a tinker . . . Lavengro

"Did you speak, Don Jorge" . . . Bible in Spain

Francis Ardry and myself . . . Romany Rye

After a slight breakfast . . . . Romany Rye

I did not like reviewing . . . . Lavengro

A lad, who twenty tongues can talk . . . Romantic Ballads

"He is a great fool" . . . Romany Rye

I informed the landlord . . . Romany Rye

"When you are a gentleman" . . . Romany Rye

I was bidding him farewell . . . Romany Rye

At the dead hour of night . . . Lavengro

I should say . . . Lavengro

To the generality of mankind . . . Lavengro

I cannot help thinking . . . Lavengro

O, Cheapside! . . . Lavengro

Oh, that ride! . . . Lavengro

Of one thing I am certain . . . Lavengro

My curiosity . . . Bible in Spain

The morning of the fifth of November . . . Wild Wales

"Good are the horses of the Moslems" . . . Bible in Spain

"The burra," I replied . . . Bible in Spain

I was standing on the castle hill . . . Lavengro

In Spain I passed five years . . . Bible in Spain

On the afternoon of the 6th of December . . . Bible in Spain

I know of few things . . . Bible in Spain

It was not without reason . . . Bible in Spain

Apropos of bull-fighters . . . Bible in Spain

The waiter drew the cork . . . Romany Rye

Leaving the bridge . . . Lavengro

I went to Belle's habitation . . . Romany Rye

I found Belle seated by a fire . . . Lavengro

I put some fresh wood on the fire . . . Lavengro

After ordering dinner . . . Wild Wales

The strength of the ox . . . The Targum

I began to think . . . Romany Rye

On I went . . . Romany Rye

As I was gazing . . . Wild Wales

"Pray, gentleman, walk in!" . . . Wild Wales

Now, real Republicanism . . . Romany Rye

"Does your honour remember?" . . . Wild Wales

I was the last of the file . . . Wild Wales

For dinner . . . Wild Wales

Came to Tregeiriog . . . Wild Wales

The name "Pump Saint" . . . Wild Wales

After the days of the great persecution . . . Zincali

GEORGE BORROW

SELECTED PASSAGES

It is very possible that the reader during his country walks or rides has

observed, on coming to four cross-roads, two or three handfuls of grass

lying at a small distance from each other down one of these roads;

perhaps he may have supposed that this grass was recently plucked from

the roadside by frolicsome children, and flung upon the ground in sport,

and this may possibly have been the case; it is ten chances to one,

however, that no children's hands plucked them, but that they were

strewed in this manner by Gypsies, for the purpose of informing any of

their companions, who might be straggling behind, the route which they

had taken; this is one form of the patteran or trail. It is likely, too,

that the gorgio reader may have seen a cross drawn at the entrance of a

road, the long part or stem of it pointing down that particular road, and

he may have thought nothing of it, or have supposed that some sauntering

individual like himself had made the mark with his stick: not so,

courteous gorgio; ley tiro solloholomus opre lesti, _you may take your

oath upon it_ that it was drawn by a Gypsy finger, for that mark is

another of the Rommany trails; there is no mistake in this. Once in the

south of France, when I was weary, hungry, and penniless, I observed one

of these last patterans, and following the direction pointed out, arrived

at the resting-place of 'certain Bohemians,' by whom I was received with

kindness and hospitality, on the faith of no other word of recommendation

than patteran. There is also another kind of patteran, which is more

particularly adapted for the night; it is a cleft stick stuck at the side

of the road, close by the hedge, with a little arm in the cleft pointing

down the road which the band have taken, in the manner of a signpost; any

stragglers who may arrive at night where cross-roads occur search for

this patteran on the left-hand side, and speedily rejoin their

companions.

By following these patterans, or trails, the first Gypsies on their way

to Europe never lost each other, though wandering amidst horrid

wildernesses and dreary denies. Rommany matters have always had a

peculiar interest for me; nothing, however, connected with Gypsy life

ever more captivated my imagination than this patteran system: many

thanks to the Gypsies for it; it has more than once been of service to

me.

* * * * *

'Are you of the least use? Are you not spoken ill of by everybody?

What's a gypsy?'

'What's the bird noising yonder, brother?'

'The bird! oh, that's the cuckoo tolling; but what has the cuckoo to do

with the matter?'

'We'll see, brother; what's the cuckoo?'

'What is it? you know as much about it as myself, Jasper.'

'Isn't it a kind of roguish, chaffing bird, brother?'

'I believe it is, Jasper.'

'Nobody knows whence it comes, brother?'

'I believe not, Jasper.'

'Very poor, brother, not a nest of its own?'

'So they say, Jasper.'

'With every person's bad word, brother?'

'Yes, Jasper; every person is mocking it.'

'Tolerably merry, brother?'

'Yes, tolerably merry, Jasper.'

'Of no use at all, brother?'

'None whatever, Jasper.'

'You would be glad to get rid of the cuckoos, brother?'

'Why, not exactly, Jasper; the cuckoo is a pleasant, funny bird, and its

presence and voice give a great charm to the green trees and fields; no,

I can't say I wish exactly to get rid of the cuckoo.'

'Well, brother, what's a Rommany chal?'

'You must answer that question yourself, Jasper.'

'A roguish, chaffing, fellow; ain't he, brother?'

'Ay, ay, Jasper.'

'Of no use at all, brother?'

'Just so, Jasper; I see--'

'Something very much like a cuckoo, brother?'

'I see what you are after, Jasper.'

'You would like to get rid of us, wouldn't you?'

'Why, no; not exactly.'

'We are no ornament to the green lanes in spring and summer time; are we,

brother? and the voices of our chies, with their cukkerin and dukkerin,

don't help to make them pleasant?'

'I see what you are at, Jasper.'

'You would wish to turn the cuckoos into barn-door fowls, wouldn't you?'

'Can't say I should, Jasper, whatever some people might wish.'

'And the chals and chies into radical weavers and factory wenches; hey,

brother?'

'Can't say that I should, Jasper. You are certainly a picturesque

people, and in many respects an ornament both to town and country;

painting and lil writing too are under great obligations to you. What

pretty pictures are made out of your campings and groupings, and what

pretty books have been written in which gypsies, or at least creatures

intended to represent gypsies, have been the principal figures. I think

if we were without you, we should begin to miss you.'

'Just as you would the cuckoos, if they were all converted into barn-door

fowls. I tell you what, brother; frequently, as I have sat under a hedge

in spring or summer time, and heard the cuckoo, I have thought that we

chals and cuckoos are alike in many respects, but especially in

character. Everybody speaks ill of us both, and everybody is glad to see

both of us again.'

* * * * *

'People are becoming vastly sharp,' said Mr. Petulengro; 'and I am told

that all the old-fashioned good-tempered constables are going to be set

aside, and a paid body of men to be established, who are not to permit a

tramper or vagabond on the roads of England; and talking of roads, puts

me in mind of a strange story I heard two nights ago, whilst drinking

some beer at a public-house, in company with my cousin Sylvester. I had

asked Tawno to go, but his wife would not let him. Just opposite me,

smoking their pipes, were a couple of men, something like engineers, and

they were talking of a wonderful invention which was to make a wonderful

alteration in England; inasmuch as it would set aside all the old roads,

which in a little time would be ploughed up, and sowed with corn, and

cause all England to be laid down with iron roads, on which people would

go thundering along in vehicles, pushed forward by fire and smoke. Now,

brother, when I heard this, I did not feel very comfortable; for I

thought to myself, what a queer place such a road would be to pitch one's

tent upon, and how impossible it would be for one's cattle to find a bite

of grass upon it; and I thought likewise of the danger to which one's

family would be exposed of being run over and severely scorched by these

same flying fiery vehicles; so I made bold to say, that I hoped such an

invention would never be countenanced, because it was likely to do a

great deal of harm. Whereupon, one of the men, giving me a glance, said,

without taking the pipe out of his mouth, that for his part, he sincerely

hoped that it would take effect; and if it did no other good than

stopping the rambles of gypsies, and other like scamps, it ought to be

encouraged. Well, brother, feeling myself insulted, I put my hand into

my pocket, in order to pull out money, intending to challenge him to

fight for a five-shilling stake, but merely found sixpence, having left

all my other money at the tent; which sixpence was just sufficient to pay

for the beer which Sylvester and myself were drinking, of whom I couldn't

hope to borrow anything--"poor as Sylvester" being a by-word amongst us.

So, not being able to back myself, I held my peace, and let the gorgio

have it all his own way, who, after turning up his nose at me, went on

discoursing about the said invention, saying what a fund of profit it

would be to those who knew how to make use of it, and should have the

laying down of the new roads, and the shoeing of England with iron. And

after he had said this, and much more of the same kind, which I cannot

remember, he and his companion got up and walked away; and presently I

and Sylvester got up and walked to our camp; and there I lay down in my

tent by the side of my wife, where I had an ugly dream of having camped

upon an iron road; my tent being overturned by a flying vehicle; my

wife's leg injured; and all my affairs put into great confusion.'

* * * * *

'Will you take a glass of wine?'

'Yes.'

'That's right; what shall it be?'

'Madeira!'

The magistrate gave a violent slap on his knee; 'I like your taste,' said

he, 'I am fond of a glass of Madeira myself, and can give you such a one

as you will not drink every day; sit down, young gentleman, you shall

have a glass of Madeira, and the best I have.'

Thereupon he got up, and, followed by his two terriers, walked slowly out

of the room.

I looked round the room, and, seeing nothing which promised me much

amusement, I sat down, and fell again into my former train of thought.

'What is truth?' said I.

'Here it is,' said the magistrate, returning at the end of a quarter of

an hour, followed by the servant with a tray; 'here's the true thing, or

I am no judge, far less a justice. It has been thirty years in my cellar

last Christmas. There,' said he to the servant, 'put it down, and leave

my young friend and me to ourselves. Now, what do you think of it?'

'It is very good,' said I.

'Did you ever taste better Madeira?'

'I never before tasted Madeira.'

'Then you ask for a wine without knowing what it is?'

'I ask for it, sir, that I may know what it is.'

'Well, there is logic in that, as Parr would say; you have heard of

Parr?'

'Old Parr?'

'Yes, old Parr, but not that Parr; you mean the English, I the Greek

Parr, as people call him.'

'I don't know him.'

'Perhaps not--rather too young for that, but were you of my age, you

might have cause to know him, coming from where you do. He kept school

there, I was his first scholar; he flogged Greek into me till I loved

him--and he loved me. He came to see me last year, and sat in that

chair; I honour Parr--he knows much, and is a sound man.'

'Does he know the truth?'

'Know the truth! he knows what's good, from an oyster to an ostrich--he's

not only sound but round.'

'Suppose we drink his health?'

'Thank you, boy: here's Parr's health, and Whiter's.'

'Who is Whiter?'

'Don't you know Whiter? I thought everybody knew Reverend Whiter, the

philologist, though I suppose you scarcely know what that means. A man

fond of tongues and languages, quite out of your way--he understands some

twenty; what do you say to that?'

'Is he a sound man?'

'Why, as to that, I scarcely know what to say; he has got queer notions

in his head--wrote a book to prove that all words came originally from

the earth--who knows? Words have roots, and roots live in the earth;

but, upon the whole, I should not call him altogether a sound man, though

he can talk Greek nearly as fast as Parr.'

'Is he a round man?'

'Ay, boy, rounder than Parr; I'll sing you a song, if you like, which

will let you into his character:--

'"Give me the haunch of a buck to eat, and to drink Madeira old,

And a gentle wife to rest with, and in my arms to fold,

An Arabic book to study, a Norfolk cob to ride,

And a house to live in shaded with trees, and near to a river side;

With such good things around me, and blessed with good health withal,

Though I should live for a hundred years, for death I would not call."