_BITSHADO PAWDEL_ (TRANSPORTED)
THICKLY sprinkled with Gypsy names are the “Transportation Lists”
(1787–1867) reposing on the shelves of the Public Record Office in
London; yet as your eye scans those lists of names, how dull and ordinary
they look. It is not until you embark upon the arduous task of tracking
individuals in old newspaper files that you realize the charm of
unearthing buried romances in which the Gypsies played a part.
If, on the one hand, the wildness and roughness of the times are fully
impressed upon your mind, there arises also the unedifying spectacle of
British justices vieing with one another in their ardour for dispatching
Gypsies across the sea on the most trivial pretexts. In the
Transportation Lists both sexes are well represented, and occasionally
one obtains the _aliases_ borne by Gypsies at the time of their arrest.
From a study of these _aliases_, it becomes possible to trace the origin
of some of our modern Gypsy families, for it is quite in keeping with
Romany usage for the children of an expatriated father to adopt his
_alias_.
I have never yet known an elderly Gypsy whose memory lacked a store of
what may be called transportation tales, and, listening to their recital,
I have sometimes been saddened, if not angered. What can we of the
twentieth century think of the “justice” (!) which sent a Romany mother
across the sea for stealing a lady’s comb valued at sixpence, or banished
for seven years a middle-aged Gypsy man for the crime of appropriating
three penny picture-books from a cottage doorway?
Over a few crimson embers on the ground I listened one summer evening to
tales from the lips of one of the old Herons, as we sat together under a
thorn hedge. For a theft of harness Solli Heron (my informant’s uncle)
was sentenced to a lengthy residence in an over-sea colony. The time
came when he and a few Gypsy comrades were led out of prison and placed
in chains on board the coach which was to convey them to the convict
ship. By some means Solli had become possessed of a small file,
wherewith, during the journey by coach, he managed to cut through his
irons and make his escape into a wood. After an exciting chase through
brake and brier, the Gypsy was recaptured and duly shipped across the
sea.
The following story shows that sometimes, when two Gypsies were
implicated in a crime, one of them would endeavour to screen his
companion. From the stables at Claremont House, Esher, during the period
of the Princess (afterwards Queen) Victoria’s residence, a horse and a
mare were stolen by two Gypsies, an elderly man and a younger one. Early
one foggy morning these fellows broke open the stable door and took the
animals away. A hue-and-cry was set up, and, within a few days of the
theft, the red-breasted “Runners” had made an arrest. In court, the
Princess’s coachman declared that he had seen two men near the stable,
but the elder Gypsy persistently affirmed that he had done the business
entirely alone, and his endeavour to screen his mate proved effectual.
The young Gypsy was acquitted, but his companion was transported for life
to Van Diemen’s Land.
The same spirit of self-sacrifice is seen in another incident—
A Gypsy tinker and a sweep were arrested for stealing a pony at a time
when the penalty for horse-stealing was death. Said the sweep to the
tinker—
“Why need two of us be hanged for this job? I’ll swear that you know
nothing about it.”
When the two were brought up for trial, the sweep, while readily
admitting his own guilt, asserted the tinker’s innocence with such
vehemence that the judge and jury believed his tale. The tinker got
twelve months in jail, but the sweep was hanged.
* * * * *
In his _Romany Word-Book_, Borrow mentions the transportation of Fighting
Jack Cooper, “once the terror of all the Light Weights of the English
Ring, who knocked West Country Dick to pieces, and killed Paddy O’Leary,
the fighting pot-boy, Jack Randall’s pet.” Jack Cooper and his brother
Tom were transported under peculiar circumstances. Tom was the first to
be sent away. It appears that the brothers went to a ball where, in the
course of the evening, Jack “pinched” a silver snuff-box, and without
meaning any harm dropped it into his brother’s pocket. Presently the
snuff-box was missed by its owner, and suspicion fell upon the Gypsies.
A policeman was called in, and, while conversing with Tom, offered him a
pinch of snuff. As the Gypsy removed a handkerchief from his pocket, out
flew the snuff-box to his great astonishment, for he was unaware of the
trick played by his brother. Speedily the handcuffs were slipped upon
Tom’s wrists, and in due course he was brought to trial. Before the
judge, Jack swore that Tom was innocent, as indeed he was, but he was
nevertheless sentenced to transportation.
However, Jack’s fate was not long delayed. “Infatuated with love for his
paramour,” (says Borrow), “he bore the blame of a crime which she had
committed, and suffered transportation to save her.” On the expiration
of his lengthy term, he preferred to stay in Australia, where he made
money by teaching young gentlemen the pugilistic art.
* * * * *
There are more stories of this kind showing that innocent persons were at
times sent across the water.
* * * * *
Well-known to the Gypsies of our Midland counties is the story of Absalom
Boswell’s transportation. One night the Gypsy father and his two sons
sat talking in their tent, and, in order to rest his weary feet, the old
man removed his shoes and soon fell asleep on the straw. One of the lads
donned his father’s footgear, and set off with his brother to _latsher_ a
bit of _bokro-mas_, which, being interpreted, means that they went to
steal “mutton.” Their errand was successful, but morning light brought a
policeman to the camp, for the sheep had been missed and suspicion had
fallen upon the Gypsies. An early riser, Absalom had put on his shoes
and was walking abroad. He and his two sons were arrested. There were
no witnesses to the theft, but a footprint had been discovered on a patch
of clay in the farmer’s field from which the sheep had been taken, and
Absalom’s shoe fitted the footprint exactly. On this shred of
circumstantial evidence the old man was transported for seven years,
while his sons were lodged in jail for twelve months.
* * * * *
On Mitcham Common I once heard the following story from one of the
Dightons. Seated on the wayside was a Gypsy making pegs, with his
children playing around him, and, looking up from his work, he was
surprised to see a well-dressed _gawji_ (non-Gypsy) woman staring hard at
him. She stood there without saying a word, until at last she moved
slowly away. Then came a policeman to where the peg-maker sat—
“You must come along with me.”
“What for?”
“You’ll know when we get to the police station.”
A report had been handed in that a young woman had been found
half-murdered in a green lane. She said a Gypsy had done it, and
described the man to a detail, giving the colour of his hair, particulars
of his dress, and the number of his children. “I am an innocent man,”
said the Gypsy, “and the Lord’ll make her tell the truth before she
dies.” He was transported for seven years. Two years afterwards the
lady fell ill, and confessed that the man was innocent. He was
liberated, but on the homeward voyage he died.
* * * * *
Yet another tale from the “tents of Egypt”—
John Chilcot was _bitshado pawdel_ (transported), and his wife took it so
much to heart that she would sit on the tent floor cutting up straw into
pieces about an inch in length. At last she could endure it no longer.
She craved for the sight of her husband, so she _tshor_’d _tshumani_
(stole something), and was sent away too. The strange part of the story
is, that the same farmer who employed Chilcot on his farm in Van Diemen’s
Land, went and hired John’s wife when she was sent out there. The woman
came to John’s cottage one day about sundown, and, looking through the
open door, she saw him lacing his heavy boots, as he muttered to himself,
“I must _tshiv mi tshokaw oprê_ an’ _jaw te __dik de bokrê_” (I must put
my boots on and go to see the sheep).
“_Âwa_, _mi mush_, _tshiv len oprê_ and _kèr sig_” (Yes, my man, put them
on and make haste). John looked up, and, seeing his own wife standing
there, opened his arms and she dropped into them. The two worked
together for months without the farmer knowing who the woman was, then
one day John told him that she was his lawful wife, and they lived
together till their time expired, when they came back to England.
* * * * *
A story is told of one of the old Herons who had been transported, and,
his term having expired, he wrote to his wife and family in England
asking them to send fifty pounds. This they did, and a reply was
received announcing the time of his arrival at a certain port. As a
means of identification, he promised, on landing, to carry a small bundle
of sticks on his right shoulder. His sons met him, and according to his
promise he had the sticks on his shoulder. Now these sons were only tiny
children when their father had been sent away, and did not remember what
his features were like, but of course they were willing to accept him as
their father, and rejoiced accordingly. Then came the meeting between
the old man and his wife. But so completely had his features changed
during the long years of absence that she failed to recognize him as her
husband, even though he pointed to his old bottle green coat still in her
possession. It is said that he turned away sorrowfully, and died soon
after of a broken heart.
* * * * *
Moses Heron was on the Thames in a convict ship going to Australia for
_grai-tshor_in (horse-stealing). Some of his relatives went out in a
boat to see the last of him, as his ship was anchored off shore. Moses
took out his knife and cut his _diklo_ (kerchief) from his neck and threw
it overboard for them to take the knot back to his sweetheart. He cut
the _diklo_ from under his ear so that the knot was undisturbed but
remained just as he had tied it.
Stories of this character might be multiplied indefinitely, but the
instances given will suffice to show how pathetic are the annals of the
Gypsies.
* * * * *
In a lecture delivered before the Leeds Philosophical and Literary
Society, my friend, Mr. R. A. Scott Macfie, has justly estimated the
character of the Anglo-_Romanitshel_s of to-day.
“In Great Britain the Gypsies are at present exposed to a petty
persecution, inflicted ostensibly for their good by illogical persons,
who pretend to believe that they live unnatural lives and should be
driven into town slums for the benefit of their health and morals. They
are harassed by prosecutions on such curious pretexts as sleeping-out,
overcrowding (in tents every inch of which admits the free passage of
God’s fresh air), possessing no dustbin, or neglecting to provide a
proper water supply for their habitations. Yet, on the whole, in this
country they have for the last century received less unpleasant attention
and more sympathy than elsewhere, and it is very noteworthy that they
have responded to this kindness by adopting the civilized conception of
their duty towards their neighbour. I have many hundreds of press
cuttings from British newspapers published during the last few years.
They prove that the Gypsies of this country are never guilty of the
greater crimes. The majority of the convictions are for almost
inevitable offences, such as halting in the road or allowing horses to
stray. Gypsies have, of course, rather primitive views as to rights of
property, especially in respect of what grows or moves upon the earth in
a more or less wild state, yet, while there are an appreciable number of
instances of poaching, fortune-telling, and of certain traditional Gypsy
swindles, most of the cases of so-called theft are very insignificant
petty larcenies—a handful of fruit taken from an orchard, a few swedes
from a field, or a stick or two from the hedge. So conspicuous is the
law-abiding character of the British Gypsies in my records, and in my
personal experience, that I do not hesitate to assert, that, in spite of
their reputation, they are as superior in honesty to the lower classes of
our native population as they are in morality and cleanliness.”