A Gipsy's Letter to his Sister.--Drabbing Horses.--Fortune Telling.--Cock
Shys.--"Hatch 'em pauli, or he'll lel sar the Covvas!"--Two German Gipsy
Letters.
I shall give in this chapter a few curious illustrations of Gipsy life
and character, as shown in a letter, which is illustrated by two
specimens in the German Rommany dialect.
With regard to the first letter, I might prefix to it, as a motto, old
John Willett's remark: "What's a man without an imagination?" Certainly
it would not apply to the Gipsy, who has an imagination so lively as to
be at times almost ungovernable; considering which I was much surprised
that, so far as I know, the whole race has as yet produced only one
writer who has distinguished himself in the department of fiction--albeit
he who did so was a giant therein--I mean John Bunyan.
And here I may well be allowed an unintended digression, as to whether
Bunyan were really a Gipsy. In a previous chapter of this work, I, with
little thought of Bunyan, narrated the fact that an intelligent tinker,
and a full Gipsy, asked me last summer in London, if I thought that the
Rommany were of the Ten Tribes of Israel? When John Bunyan tells us
explicitly that he once asked his father whether he and his relatives
were of the race of the Israelites--he having then never seen a Jew--and
when he carefully informs his readers that his descent was of a low and
inconsiderable generation, "my father's house being of that rank that is
meanest and most despised of all the families of the land," there remains
no rational doubt whatever that Bunyan was indeed a Rom of the Rommany.
"_Applico_" of which, as my own special and particular Gipsy is wont to
say--it is worth noting that the magician Shakespeare, who knew
everything, showed himself superior to many modern dramatists in being
aware that the tinkers of England had, not a peculiar cant, but a special
_language_.
And now for the letters. One day Ward'engro of the K'allis's Gav, asked
me to write him a letter to his daughter, in Rommany. So I began to
write from his dictation. But being, like all his race, unused to
literary labour, his lively imagination continually led him astray, and
as I found amusement in his so doing, it proved to be an easy matter to
induce him to wander off into scenes of gipsy life, which, however
edifying they might be to my reader, would certainly not have the charm
of novelty to the black-eyed lady to whom they were supposed to be
addressed. However, as I read over from time to time to my Rommany chal
what I had written, his delight in actually hearing his own words read
from writing, partook of all the pride of successful authorship--it was,
my dear sir, like your delight over your first proof sheet.
Well, this was the letter. A translation will be found following it.
THE PANNI GAV, _Dec_. 16, 1871.
MY KAMLI CHAVI,--Kushti bak! My cammoben to turo mush an' turo dadas an'
besto bak. We've had wafri bak, my pen's been naflo this here cooricus,
we're doin' very wafro and couldn't lel no wongur. Your dui pals are
kairin kushto, prasturin 'bout the tem, bickinin covvas. {65} Your puro
kako welled acai to his pen, and hatched trin divvus, and jawed avree
like a puro jucko, and never del mandy a poshero.
Kek adusta nevvi. A rakli acai lelled a hora waver divvus from a waver
rakli, and the one who nashered it pens: "Del it pauli a mandi and I wont
dukker tute! Del it apre!" But the waver rakli penned "kek," and so
they bitchered for the prastramengro. He lelled the juva to the wardo,
and just before she welled odoi, she hatched her wast in her poachy, an'
chiv it avree, and the prastramengro hatched it apre. So they bitchered
her for shurabun.
(Here my Gipsy suggested that _stardo_ or _staramangro_ might be used for
greater elegance, in place of shurabun.)
I've got kek gry and can't lel no wongur to kin kek. My kamli chavi, if
you could bitch me a few bars it would be cammoben. I rikkers my covvas
apre mi dumo kenna. I dicked my kako, waver divvus adree a lot o Rommany
chals, saw a piin'. There was the juvas a koorin adoi and the mushis a
koorin an' there was a boro chingaree, some with kali yakkas an' some
with sherros chinned so the ratt jalled alay 'pre the drum. There was
dui or trin bar to pessur in the sala for the graias an' mylas that got
in pandamam (_pandapenn_).
Your pal's got a kushti gry that can jal alangus the drum kushto. L---
too's got a baro kushto gry. He jawed to the wellgooro, to the boro gav,
with a poggobavescro gry an' a nokengro. You could a mored dovo gry an'
kek penn'd a lav tute. I del it some ballovas to hatch his bavol and I
bikened it for 9 bar, to a rye that you jins kushto. Lotti was at the
wellgooro dukkerin the ranis. She lelled some kushti habben, an' her
jellico was saw porder, when she dicked her mush and shelled. "Havacai!
I've got some fine habben!" She penned to a rakli, "Pet your wonger
adree turo wast an I'll dukker tute." An' she lelled a pash bar from the
rani. She penned her: "You kaums a rye a longo duros. He's a kaulo and
there's a waver rye, a pauno, that kaums you too, an' you'll soon lel a
chinamangree. Tute'll rummorben before dui besh, an' be the dye of trin
chavis.'
There was a gry jallin with a wardo langus the drum, an' I dicked a
raklo, an' putsched (_pootched_) him. "How much wongur?" an' he pookered
man'y "Desh bar;" I penned: "Is dovo, noko gry?" "Avali." Well, a
Rommany chul del him desh bar for the gry an' bikined it for twelve bar
to a boro rye. It was a fino kaulo gry with a boro herree, but had a
naflo piro; it was the _nearo_ piro an' was a dellemescro. He del it
some hopium drab to hatch adoi, and tooled his solivengro upo the purgis.
At the paiass with the koshters a rye welled and Wantelo shelled avree:
"Trin kosters for a horra, eighteen for a shekori!" An' the rye lelled a
koshter an' we had pange collos for trin dozenos. The rye kaired paiass
kushto and lelled pange cocoanuts, and lelled us to his wardo, and dell'd
mandy trin currus of tatty panni, so that I was most matto. He was a
kushti rye and his rani was as good as the rye.
There was a waver mush a playin, an' mandy penned: "Pen the kosh paulier,
hatch 'em odoi, don't well adoorer or he'll lel saw the covvos! Chiv 'em
pauli!" A chi rakkered the ryes an' got fifteen cullos from yeck. And
no moro the divvus from your kaum pal,
M.
TRANSLATION.
THE WATER VILLAGE, _Dec_. 16, 1871.
MY DEAR DAUGHTER,--Good luck! my love to your husband and your father,
and best luck! We've had bad fortune, my sister has been sick this here
week, we're doing very badly and could not get any money. Your two
brothers are doing well, running about the country selling things. Your
old uncle came to his sister and stayed three days, and went away like an
old dog and never gave me a penny.
Nothing much new. A girl here took a watch the other day from another
girl, and the one who lost it said: "Give it back to me and I won't hurt
you." But the other girl said "No," and so they sent for the constable.
He took the girl to the station (or carriage), and just before she got
there she put her hand in her pocket and threw it away, and the policeman
picked it up. So they sent her to prison.
I have no horse, and can't get any money to buy _none_. My dear
daughter, if you could send me a few pounds it would be agreeable. I
carry my _traps_ on my back now. I saw my uncle the other day among a
lot of Gipsies, all drinking. There were the women fighting there, and
the men fighting, and there was a great _shindy_, some with black eyes,
and some with heads cut so that the blood ran down on the road. There
were two or three pounds to pay in the morning for the horses and asses
that were in the pound.
Your brother has got a capital horse that can go along the road nicely.
L---, too, has a large fine horse. He went to the fair in --- with a
broken-winded horse and a glandered. You could have killed that horse
and nobody said a word to you. I gave it some lard to stop his
breathing, and I sold it for nine pound to a gentleman whom you know
well.
Lotty was at the fair telling fortunes to the ladies. She got some
excellent food, and her apron was quite full, when she saw her husband
and cried out: "Come here! I've got some nice victuals!" She said to a
girl: "Put you money in your hand and I'll tell you your fortune." And
she took half a sovereign from the lady. She told her: "You love a
gentleman who is far away. He is dark, and there is another gentleman, a
fair-haired man that loves you, and you'll soon get a letter. You'll
marry before two years, and be the mother of three children."
There was a horse going with a waggon along the road; and I saw a youth,
and asked him, "How much money?" (for the horse), and he replied to me,
"Ten pounds." I said, "Is that your horse?" "Yes." Well, a Gipsy gave
him ten pounds for the horse, and sold it for twelve pounds to a great
gentleman. It was a good black horse, with a (handsome) strong leg
(literally large), but it had a bad foot; it was the _near_ foot, and it
was a kicker. He gave it some opium medicament to keep quiet (literally
to stop there), and held his rein (_i.e_., trotted him so as to show his
pace, and conceal his faults) on the road.
At the cock-shy a gentleman came, and Wantelo halloed out, "Three sticks
for a penny, eighteen for a sixpence!" And the gentleman took a stick,
and we had five shillings for three dozen throws! The gentleman played
well, and got five cocoanuts, and took us to his carriage and gave me
three glasses of brandy, so that I was almost drunk. He was a good
gentleman, and his lady was as good as her husband.
There was another man playing; and I said, "Set the sticks more back, set
'em there; don't go further or he'll get all the things! Set 'em back!"
A Gipsy girl talked to the gentlemen (_i.e_., persuaded them to play),
and got fifteen shillings from one. And no more to-day from your dear
brother,
M.
* * * * *
One thing in the foregoing letter is worth noting. Every remark or
incident occurring in it is literally true--drawn from life--_pur et
simple_. It is, indeed, almost the _resume_ of the entire life of many
poor Gipsies during the summer. And I may add that the language in which
it is written, though not the "deep" or grammatical Gipsy, in which no
English words occur--as for instance in the Lord's Prayer, as given by Mr
Borrow in his appendix to the Gipsies in Spain {70}--is still really a
fair specimen of the Rommany of the present day, which is spoken at races
by cock-shysters and fortune-tellers.
The "Water Village," from which it is dated, is the generic term among
Gipsies for all towns by the sea-side. The phrase _kushto_ (or
_kushti_), _bak_!--"good luck!" is after "_Sarishan_!" or "how are you?"
the common greeting among Gipsies. The fight is from life and to the
life; and the "two or three pounds to pay in the morning for the horses
and asses that got impounded," indicates its magnitude. To have a beast
in pound in consequence of a frolic, is a common disaster in Gipsy life.
During the dictation of the foregoing letter, my Gipsy paused at the word
"broken-winded horse," when I asked him how he could stop the heavy
breathing?
"With ballovas (or lard and starch)--long enough to sell it."
"But how would you sell a glandered horse?"
Here he described, with great ingenuity, the manner in which he would
_tool_ or manage the horse--an art in which Gipsies excel all the world
over--and which, as Mr Borrow tells us, they call in Spain "_de
pacuaro_," which is pure Persian.
"But that would not stop the running. How would you prevent that?"
"I don't know."
"Then I am a better graiengro than you, for I know a powder, and with a
penny's worth of it I could stop the glanders in the worst case, long
enough to sell the horse. I once knew an old horse-dealer who paid sixty
pounds for a _nokengro_ (a glandered horse) which had been powdered in
this way."
The Gipsy listened to me in great admiration. About a week afterwards I
heard he had spoken of me as follows:--
"Don't talk about knowing. My rye knows more than anybody. He can cheat
any man in England selling him a glandered horse."
Had this letter been strictly confined to the limits originally intended,
it would have spoken only of the sufferings of the family, the want of
money, and possibly, the acquisition of a new horse by the brother. In
this case it bears a decided family-likeness to the following letter in
the German-Gipsy dialect, which originally appeared in a book entitled,
_Beytrag zur Rottwellischen Grammatik_, _oder Worterbuch von der Zigeuner
Spracke_, Leipzig 1755, and which was republished by Dr A. F. Pott in his
stupendous work, _Die Zigeuner in Europa und Asien_. Halle, 1844.
GERMAN GIPSY.
MIRI KOMLI ROMNI,--Ertiewium Francfurtter wium te gajum apro Newoforo.
Apro drum ne his mange mishdo. Mare manush tschingerwenes ketteni.
Tschiel his te midschach wettra. Tschawe wele naswele. Dowa ker, kai me
gaijam medre gazdias tele; mare ziga t'o terno kalbo nahsle penge. O
flachso te hanfa te wulla te schwigarizakri te stifftshakri ho spinderde
gotshias nina. Lopennawa, wium ke tshorero te wiam hallauter nange
Denkerdum tschingerwam mangi kasht te mre wastiengri butin, oder hunte di
kaw te kinnaw tschommoni pre te bikkewaw pale, te de denkerwaw te
ehrnahrwaw man kiacke. Me bium kiacke kuremangrender pene aper mande,
buten tschingerde buten trinen marde te man, tshimaster apri butin
tshidde. O bolloben te rackel tutt andre sawe kolester, kai me wium adre
te me tshawa tiro rum shin andro meraben.
TRANSLATION.
MY DEAR WIFE,--Before I came to Frankfort I went to Neustadt. On the way
it did not go well with me. Our men quarrelled together. It was cold
and wet weather. The children were ill. That house into which we had
gone burnt down; our kid and the young calf run away. The flax and hemp
and wool [which] the sister-in-law and step-daughter spun are also
burned. In short, I say I became so poor that we all went naked. I
thought of cutting wood and working by hand, or I should go into business
and sell something. I think I will make my living so. I was so treated
by the soldiers. They fell on us, wounded many, three they killed, and I
was taken to prison to work for life. Heaven preserve you in all things
from that into which I have fallen, and I remain thy husband unto death.
* * * * *
It is the same sad story in all, wretchedness, poverty, losses, and
hunger. In the English letter there was a _chingari_--a shindy; in the
German they have a _tshinger_, which is nearly the same word, and means
the same. It may be remarked as curious that the word _meraben_ at the
end of the letter, meaning death, is used by English Gipsies to signify
life as well.
"Dick at the gorgios,
The gorgios round mandy;
Trying to take my meripon,
My meripon away."
The third letter is also in the German-Gipsy dialect, and requires a
little explanation. Once a man named Charles Augustus was arrested as a
beggar and suspected Gipsy, and brought before Mr Richard Liebich, who
appears to have been nothing less in the total than the _Furstlich Reuss-
Plauenschem Criminalrathe und Vorstande des Furstlichen Criminalgerichts
zu Lobenstein_--in fact, a rather lofty local magistrate. Before this
terrible title Charles appeared, and swore stoutly that he was no more a
Rommany chal than he was one of the Apostles--for be it remembered,
reader, that in Germany at the present day, the mere fact of being a
Gipsy is still treated as a crime. Suddenly the judge attacked him with
the words--"_Tu hal rom, me hom, rakker tschatschopenn_!"--"Thou art a
Gipsy, I am a Gipsy, speak the truth." And Charles, looking up in
amazement and seeing the black hair and brown face of the judge, verily
believed that he was of the blood of Dom. So crossing his arms on his
breast in true Oriental style, he salaamed deeply, and in a submissive
voice said--"_Me hom rom_"--"_I am a_ Gipsy."
The judge did not abuse the confidence gained by his little trick, since
he appears to have taken Charles under his wing, employed him in small
jobs (in America we should say _chores_, but the word would be
frightfully significant, if applied to a Gipsy), {75} and finally
dismissed him. And Charles replied Rommanesquely, by asking for
something. His application was as follows:--
GERMAN GIPSY.
"LICHTENBERG ANE DESCHE OCHDADO, _Januar_ 1859.
"LADSCHO BARO RAI,--Me hunde dschinawe duge gole dui trin Lawinser mire
zelle gowe, har geas mange an demaro foro de demare Birengerenser. Har
weum me stildo gage lean demare Birengere mr lowe dele, de har weum biro
gage lean jon man dran o stilibin bri, de mangum me mr lowe lender, gai
deum dele. Jon pendin len wellen geg mander. Gai me deum miro lowe
lende, naste pennene jon gar wawer. Brinscherdo lowe hi an i Gissig, o
baro godder lolo paro, trin Chairingere de jeg dschildo gotter sinagro
lowe. Man weas mr lowe gar gobe dschanel o Baro Dewel ani Bolebin. Miro
baaro bargerbin vaschge demare Ladschebin bennawe. O baro Dewel de
pleisserwel de maro ladscho sii i pure sasde Tschiwaha demende demaro
zelo Beero. De hadzin e Birengere miro lowe, dale mangawa me len de
bidschin jon mire lowe gadder o foro Naile abbi Bidschebasger wurtum
sikk. Gai me dschingerdum ab demende, hi gar dschadscho, gai miri romni
hass mando, gowe hi dschadscho. Obaaro Dewel de bleiserwel de mange de
menge demaro Ladscho Sii. Miero Bargerbin. De me dschawe demaro gandelo
Waleddo.
CHARLES AUGUSTIN."
TRANSLATION.
"LICHTENBERG, _January_ 18, 1859.
"GOOD GREAT SIR,--I must write to you with these two or three words my
whole business (_gowe_, English Gipsy _covvo_, literally 'thing,') how it
happened to me in your town, by your servants (literally 'footmen'). When
I was arrested, your servants took my money away, and when I was freed
they took me out of prison. I asked my money of them which I had given
up. They said they had got none from me. That I gave them my money they
cannot deny. The said (literally, known) money is in a purse, a great
piece, red (and) old, three kreutzers, and a yellow piece of good-for-
nothing money. I did not get my money, as the great God in heaven knows.
My great thanks for your goodness, I say. The great God reward your good
heart with long healthy life, you and your whole family. And if your
servants find my money, I beg they will send it to the town Naila, by the
post at once. That I cursed you is not true; that my wife was drunk is
true. The great God reward your good heart. My thanks. And I remain,
your obedient servant,
CHARLES AUGUSTIN."
Those who attempt to read this letter in the original, should be informed
that German Gipsy is, as compared to the English or Spanish dialects,
almost a perfect language; in fact, Pott has by incredible industry,
actually restored it to its primitive complete form; and its orthography
is now settled. Against this orthography poor Charles Augustin sins
sadly, and yet it may be doubted whether many English tramps and beggars
could write a better letter.
The especial Gipsy characteristic in this letter is the constant use of
the name of God, and the pious profusion of blessings. "She's the
_blessing-est_ old woman I ever came across," was very well said of an
old Rommany dame in England. And yet these well-wishings are not always
insincere, and they are earnest enough when uttered in Gipsy.