ROMANY LIFE
[Illustration: DŌSHA.]
ROMANY LIFE
EXPERIENCED AND OBSERVED DURING
MANY YEARS OF FRIENDLY INTERCOURSE
WITH THE GYPSIES
BY
FRANK CUTTRISS
ILLUSTRATED WITH A LARGE NUMBER OF UNIQUE
PHOTOGRAPHS AND OTHER PICTURES BY THE AUTHOR
MILLS & BOON LIMITED
49 RUPERT STREET
LONDON, W.
_First published 1915_
PREFACE
It is a curious fact, that while very few can be found nowadays to
accept without question, fanciful or otherwise, unscientific statements
concerning natural objects or supernatural happenings, many time-worn,
misleading accounts of gypsies and what they are supposed to do—but
do not—are still implicitly credited by a great majority of thinking
people. A solution of this may be looked for in one or other of the
following surmises, perhaps—more or less—in all:
That the widespread unacquaintance with the real Romany
character and gypsy life is due to the dearth of reliable
information, and to the fictional nature of much that has been
written on the subject.
That most writers have endeavoured to satisfy the public
interest in the subject by the ever-available fiction, for the
reason that the suspicious, reticent, and often unapproachable
attitude of gypsies generally renders it difficult to provide
material from the life.
That the prevailing unsympathetic attitude of non-gypsies in
general, and of many of those who would approach the gypsies
for literary purposes in particular, reacts on them and
increases the tenseness of the situation.
Hearsay, in matters concerning the gypsies, even when emanating from
presumably reliable sources, cannot altogether be relied upon. Unless
one lives among them and as one of them, goes freely to and fro, sees
and hears for himself, understanding the while most of what may be said
in Romany, slang and English,—a lingual conglomerate heard nowhere but
among these people,—his accounts will be of little value in depicting
aspects of Romany life.
Just how much truth, if any, there may be in the invariable assertion
by gypsies, that I have a good deal of the true Romany in my
composition, I am unable to say; there can, however, be no doubt
whatever of their belief in it, nor that their tenacity on the point,
coupled with my adaptability to their manner of life, and my use of
their tongue (which I cannot but admit seems to me a language I
might have used in a previous existence), have proved a veritable
“open sesame,” admitting me to the innermost circle of friendship,
and enabling me, while not breaking faith with them, to describe
truthfully, customs and aspects of their life which do not come within
the ken of the gorgio or non-gypsy.
Although it might be considered by some, that the insertion of a
certain amount of fiction would add glitter to my narration, I have
religiously refrained from making any such addition, feeling that the
work, in so far as it is a revelation of little-known aspects of Romany
life, would, under such conditions, lose its entire value.
FRANK CUTTRISS.
A glossary of most of the Romany and cant words it has been expedient
to use in this work, together with English equivalents, will be found
at the end.
N.B.—It must be distinctly understood that none of the incidents
related in this book must be taken to apply, or to allude in any way to
any living persons, and that the photographs must not be considered as
having any connection with any particular incident related.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
DŌSHA _Frontispiece_
ARTICLES OF DAILY LIFE _To face page_ 6
AN OCTOGENARIAN ” ” 24
“THERE IS IN ALL THIS COLD AND HOLLOW
WORLD,” ETC. ” ” 28
DOUBLE TENT. WINTER ” ” 32
SINGLE TENT. SUMMER ” ” 34
GYPSY TENT, SHOWING INTERIOR ” ” 38
GYPSY TENT, SHOWING CONSTRUCTION ” ” 44
“SHOSHOI” ” ” 53
MRS. BESHALEY ” ” 66
WINTER ” ” 82
DŌSHA ” ” 89
DŌSHA ” ” 90
“ADROIT THE LINE OF PALMISTRY TO
TRACE” ” ” 92
JEWELLERY ” ” 112
STYLES OF HAIRDRESSING ” ” 117
A “ROMANICHAL” ” ” 118
ITALIAN CAP ” ” 120
“MAIDEN MEDITATION” ” ” 122
METHOD OF CARRYING BABY AND BASKET ” ” 124
CARRYING CHILD ON HIP ” ” 126
“YOU LIKE ME THE BEST” ” ” 128
AROUND THE CAMP FIRE ” ” 140
TYPES OF LIVING-WAGON ” ” 150
CARAVAN SHOWING FIREPLACE ” ” 152
A GOOD TYPE OF CARAVAN ” ” 154
THE MAKER OF TOY CHAIRS ” ” 161
THE TRUE “PATERAN” ” ” 168
CAMP OF CLOTHES-PEG MAKERS ” ” 170
“TO ME MEN ARE WHAT THEY ARE” ” ” 173
“IT’S A MERRY LIFE” ” ” 189
“DOLCE FAR NIENTE” ” ” 196
“THE WEAKER SEX?” ” ” 198
“BEAUX YEUX” ” ” 200
“WHEN THE HEART IS YOUNG” ” ” 202
“PASSING GLEAMS OF RESTLESS MIRTH” ” ” 204
THE POST-PRANDIAL HALF-HOUR ” ” 206
“TATCHEY ROMANIES” ” ” 208
“DUI KUSHTI KAULO YOCKS” ” ” 212
“MANDE’S GRY” ” ” 218
A “RINKENY CHI” ” ” 220
“NO PLACE LIKE HOME” ” ” 222
“LIFE’S EVENTIDE” ” ” 230
HOME-MADE ARTICLES ” ” 262
BUNCHING “DAFFIES” ” ” 266
THE “DARK ROOM” ” ” 268
OFF TO THE “OPPIN” ” ” 274
ROMANY LIFE
CHAPTER I
The terms “gypsy” and “tramp” are by many considered synonymous. It
is not, however, by any means the case, for while gypsies may be, and
sometimes are, mistaken for tramps, the genuine professional tramp and
the Tachey Romany, or true gypsy, have very little in common.
The tramp may perhaps be described as one who is dominated by the early
instincts of our race,—instincts which in every one of us are but just
below the veneer of civilization,—for we know that in the infancy of
the human race man was perforce of a roving, restless and predatory
disposition, driven by circumstances to wander in search of food, and,
as in the case of plants which have been improved,—civilized, if you
will, by cultivation,—there is always the tendency to return to the
primitive state, so every civilized man is more or less insistently
urged by Nature to disregard the conventions of Society, to live in the
open air and to wander.
We may then take it that the professional tramp demonstrates this
instinct combined with a detestation of honest toil. Such men sometimes
depart from the ways of their kind and adopt the manner of life of
the gypsy, and, when living under such conditions, they are, in some
districts, designated “Mumpers.” Sometimes these mumpers intermarry
with the gypsies, adopt their mode of living and assimilate many
of their customs and portions of their language, with the result
that their progeny exhibit many of the true Romany characteristics.
Sometimes such half-caste gypsies are called “diddecoys,” but one also
hears the term loosely applied to the true gypsy. I have heard it most
frequently by the people of Hampshire, and occasionally by the gypsies
themselves. A man once said to me, “I ain’t an old diddecoy like my
missus; I was born in a house, but she’s always been a travelling lady.”
Of the caravan or tent dwellers it is difficult to say which are the
more interesting, as owners of caravans may be frequently found camping
in tents,—perhaps while the van is undergoing repairs, or because it
will not accommodate the whole of the family. Again, a family will,
for a time, take to “life under the tan” and later we may see them
located in a van, it will therefore be better to make no invidious
comparisons but treat of both van and tent dweller impartially. To the
student, the life led by the habitual tent dwellers will appeal the
more strongly as many of them have not associated with the outside
world to quite the same extent as their caravan brethren and they are
therefore, in some respects, the more interesting, and we can gain
from them a much better idea of the primitive dwellings and general
conditions under which most of the gypsies lived during those centuries
of wandering both in India and after their emigration. Concerning much
of their wanderings, history is dumb, but certain facts stand out in
strong relief, for historians relate how in 1414 they appeared in
Germany and France in bands, gaining a livelihood by the practice of
fortune-telling.
Bands of them went to Persia as musicians, others engaged in various
trades and scattered all over Europe. Their appearance in England dates
from about 1480.
We read that the Persian monarch Behran Gour received from an Indian
king 12,000 musicians of both sexes who were known as “Lûris” or
“Lûlis,” and in this record of what is presumably the first emigration
of the gypsies, the term “Lûris” is identical with that by which
gypsies are known in Persia to-day. Pursuing the theme, we note the
statement by old writers that “between al-Mansura and Mokrau the waters
of the Indus have formed marshes, the borders of which are inhabited by
certain Indian tribes called Zott, they are true nomads, living in huts
like the Berbers.” We are told further that in the Arabic dictionary
al-Kamus this entry occurs—“Zott arabicized from Jatt, a people of
Indian origin.” Zott, by the way, is the name by which the gypsies are
known to the Arabs.
Much space might, of course, be devoted to accounts of the life of
these people after their departure from India to their arrival upon our
shores, but it is a long, and often a sad story. A book, too, might
be written on “The Arts and Devices used in Persecuting the Gypsies,”
as in all countries,—not excepting our own,—they have received most
inhuman treatment, and all who possess the smallest spark of Christian
charity must feel ashamed of many of their countrymen. At the present
day our methods differ it is true, but are we at heart more tolerant
than our forefathers? do we not still drive the Romany chal and Romany
chi from hedge to hedge? the only respite being when they are allowed
to encamp for a short time on ground known to them as “Kekkeno mush’s
poov,” or to us as “No man’s ground,” otherwise, a common. Both
policeman and keeper appear to regard them as vermin and would fain
treat them as such. Seldom—it would seem—do they seek to gain really
reliable information concerning them, while the keeper, displaying the
ignorance and bigotry usually associated with his office, and, coupling
with it a desire to stand well in his employer’s opinion, goes even so
far as to bear false witness against them. Such cases have been brought
to my notice and it should, I think, be scarcely a matter for surprise
if a keeper or office bearer of that ilk has the error of his ways
forcibly demonstrated to him or upon him by one whom he has traduced.
A gypsy never forgets either a kindness or an intentional injury.
A keeper is, or should be, a trusted man, and while he may present his
friends with game shot upon his master’s estate and take advantage to
almost any extent of that curious term—perquisite, so great is his
honesty and his consideration for his employer that he is willing to
affirm—on his oath if needs be—that he has detected gypsies in the
act of poaching on milord’s estate at the same instant of time he and
his brother keepers or intimates were drinking to the health of anyone
rather than themselves at the local “hotel.” In a court of justice the
judge himself is probably a land-owner and preserver of game and is
prone to accept the statement of anyone whom he considers trustworthy,
and the gypsy whom he may regard as having been “born in sin” will
probably be sent to eat the prison loaf.
I hold no brief for the gypsies, nor contend that they are better
or worse than others, neither do I close my eyes to the fact that
treatment such as I have known them to be subjected to cannot be
defended either on the score of Christian charity or the normal
Englishman’s love of fair play.
Can it then be wondered at that the gypsy is taciturn, difficult to
approach, suspicious of all men?
[Illustration:
1. Lamp for Oil.
2, 3. Lamps for Candles.
4. Kettle Crane (old Cornish).
5, 6, 8, 9. Crane Heads.
7. Crane designed to carry both Kettle and Cooking Pot.
10, 15, 17. Simple Kettle Supports.
11, 12, 13. Knives for Wood-working.
14. Stand for Fire Tray.
16. Iron Tripod.
18, 19. Framework of Tents.
20, 21. Elevation and Plan of Tent.
22. Frying-pan.]
To go back a little, we find we must give Henry VIII credit for issuing
the first act of persecution against the gypsies, Mary and Elizabeth
followed suit, and at last even capital punishment was prescribed as a
means of getting rid of them.
Nowadays it is somewhat difficult to realise that, formerly, because
a people or a class were not understood, those who were in power
should, for no other reason, become obsessed with the insane idea of
annihilating them.
In France under Louis XIII and Louis XIV some of the gypsies were
massacred, others barely escaped with their lives, while in 1633 Philip
IV appears to have forbidden them to use their own language, and in
1745 a decree was issued ordering the putting to death of all wandering
gypsies.
Fortunately, this could not be carried out to the letter. Yet, with all
this persecution, past and present, the gypsy, when really known and
understood, is one of the best of friends. “Aye, it’s a merry life and
plenty o’ fun,” said one to me recently.
I do not, however, wish to convey the impression that he is a
perpetually happy being. None can be more variable, one minute he
may be convulsed with laughter, the next—deeply despondent. His
temperament has much to remind one of the changeability of Nature,
sunshine one moment, the next a darkened sky. The gypsy, too, has much
of the child in his composition, he is as a child that somehow has
never fully grown up, not that he is childish, far from it, but long
contact with the gypsy and close study of gypsy character present them
to me as a people who are actuated to the full by all the passions and
emotions of healthy, natural manhood, and yet never really let go their
hold on childhood.
Are you a kairengro or house-dweller who visits him, then he will
seldom exhibit his cunning—and in all the arts pertaining to his
trade or trades he is usually remarkably clever—he thinks you “jal
a moskeying,” that is, go a-spying, than which there is nothing
perhaps he dislikes more, unless it be to be seen by a gorgio or
non-gypsy in the act of having a meal. He may talk to you, he may
be most entertaining, but he may be probing your heart and mind at
the same time, and not until you have long passed satisfactorily his
hawk-eyed, soul-searching examination, will he regard you as more
than any other gorgio or Gentile, but, if you can converse in his own
tongue—the Romany jib he loves so well but never or seldom displays
before a stranger—and he is assured of your good intentions by long
acquaintance, then only will he open out and reveal himself, and give,
as it were, his seal to the friendship by inviting you to partake of a
meal with his family, indeed, he would be likely to fight for you or
share his last penny with you if need be, and you then come to realise
that with all his complexity of character, there lies beneath, a warm
heart and generous disposition.
Many are handicapped by being unable to read or write. I have in mind
a Romany acquaintance who does a good business, but has to rely on the
help of friends to order his wares and pay his accounts for him. He
came to me one day and asked if I could write another letter for him,
adding, almost as though speaking to himself, “It’s a love-letter this
time.”
“Well,” said I, after pen and paper had been procured, “please go
ahead.” For a moment or two he seemed lost in thought and hesitated,
as though at a loss how to begin. I offered a suggestion and he at
once said, “Yes! put that down.” The ice being now broken we got
along famously, he standing with his back towards me, dictating.
The letter was written in a combination of English (of a sort) and
Romany,—poggado jib or broken tongue as it is termed. Perhaps no
more curious camipen-lil (love-letter) had ever been written. As he
was quite unable to write I signed his name—he had, in fact, almost
forgotten how it should be spelled. Having done this I quite naturally
supposed my task was completed, but no, he desired every available
bit of space filled in with crosses. “What are those for?” I asked
artlessly. “Oh, she’ll understand,” he replied. “Put in some more,
please.”
I therefore made crosses both big and small wherever they could be
squeezed in, until he seemed satisfied, but I sincerely trust his
Romany chi did not try to count them. One can almost imagine her making
the attempt: “Yeck, dui, trin, stor, pantsch, sho,” and before reaching
“dui trins ta yeck” and “dui stors,” giving up the task as being beyond
her.
Many of the gypsies are, of course, able to write, but they get little
schooling in the ordinary sense of the term and I have heard the
gypsies say they do not like their boys and girls to sit next to a lot
of gorgio children in a school. Better times are ahead, however, for
the school-master is abroad, and there are workers among them, notably
the Church Army Mission, whose self-sacrificing men teach the children
the alphabet, elementary arithmetic, etc., together with such simple
Christian truths as they can assimilate, for in the children lies
their hope. An aspect of the work of the Mission which is not seen by
the passer-by, is the tactful, considerate help rendered in times of
distress. A gypsy, whatever his status, has a certain pride and he will
not, if he can avoid it, visit a relieving officer; the workers of the
Mission, however, with an equally keen insight into human nature, have
perhaps a more sympathetic heart, enabling them to find out real cases
of need, when they help to the best of their ability, often when such
help should really be forthcoming from the relieving officer.
Unfortunately, many writers fail to discriminate between the Chorodies
(low, wandering outcasts) and the Romany chals (true gypsies). Scathing
letters have appeared in the newspapers, condemning all gypsies and
other nomads as incorrigible rogues, and suggesting fourteenth-century
methods for their removal. One writer—I will not debase the word by
calling him man—said he did not care what became of them so long
as they did not come near him,—a strikingly unbeautiful example of
existing intolerance.
However, it is not my aim, nor province, to answer directly the
newspaper letters of selfish and pharisaical people, but rather to
exhibit the gypsy character, and to speak of the gypsy as I have found
and know him, no better, no worse; to carry the reader in imagination
with me, to see them at work, to sit by the camp fire, to listen to
their quaint folk tales, the wise saying and the merry jest, and
endeavour to do some little to modify the effect of the ignorant or
vindictive doctrine of those who, generation after generation, have
taught the young that the terms gypsy, tramp and vagabond are more
or less alike, standing for most that is depraved and villainous.
In the few cases, when in after life some acquaintance with gypsy
character has been made, this idea has, of course, been much modified,
or altogether dissipated, while a close and sympathetic study of the
Romany folk has invariably led to a desire to condone their failings,
or at least to consider them of small account in comparison with so
much that is commendable.
Upon more than one occasion has my clothing—permeated by the wood
smoke of the gypsy fire—betrayed to acquaintances the fact that I had
been among the Romany folk, and given the opportunity for jeering
observations anent the “tents of the ungodly,” but, as the old adage
has it, “he laughs best who laughs last,” and it is indeed gratifying
to be able later in life to conjure up pleasant pictures of one’s
friends seated, as they were, around the camp fire.
One such of many similar scenes is deeply impressed on my memory: I was
at the camp of a Romany friend and we had discussed an early supper
of povengros (potatoes) and salt, washed down with tea, when someone
suggested a song. There may be sweeter melodies than songs in the
Romany, as sung by the chies, but I have yet to hear them. There is a
sweetness and a certain wild attractiveness about the language well
adapted to the poetry of music, and the gypsies are passionate lovers
of beautiful sounds. A poem read to them in Spanish, pleases their
ear, they understand perhaps not a word, but appreciate the rhythm.
Their language, too, reminds one somewhat of that tongue. I am however,
digressing:
By the camp fire that evening, our talk, after a song or two, was
mostly in and of the Romany tongue. One would narrate some experience,
another would take up the thread, and so on, the firelight meanwhile
playing on their faces. The soughing of the light wind overhead seemed
attuned to the weirdness of the scene, and the while, the pageant of
one of the loveliest of summer sunsets was passing, every merging
scene having its glory duplicated on the reflecting surface of the
river, which, winding and looping in its course, glided and faded
imperceptibly into a purple haze, the whole scene changing momentarily,
but with a tranquillity which, “while moving, seemed asleep,” until it
passed through an almost unearthly splendour of afterglow into the cool
star-depths of the summer night.
In extenuation—perhaps I should say explanation—of the conduct of
those who think unkindly or deal harshly with the gypsies on principle,
I suggest that they neither really know nor try to understand them;
moreover, the likelihood of their personally gaining any such knowledge
of them as results from experiences of the nature I have attempted to
describe, is very remote; indeed, so suspicious and unapproachable are
they—mainly because we as a people have made them so—that were one
to cultivate their acquaintance, with the very best of intentions,
years would probably elapse before he would be welcomed as a true pal
(brother), and not until then would he understand them or appreciate
their outlook on things.
Personally, I have found them, as companions, scrupulously honest; with
regard, however, to farmers and landowners who are known to dislike
the gypsies, this opinion might need some slight modification, but
here again one should endeavour to see things from the gypsies’ point
of view. They do not as a rule look upon poaching as wrong, contending
that they are illtreated by man-made laws, that rabbits were provided
for man’s sustenance, and that it is not more sinful for a gypsy to
catch a rabbit to ward off starvation from his family, than for another
man to run over it with a motor-car, and in fairness to the gypsies it
must be said that they probably poach less than the average village
labourer.
Apropos of their ideas of honesty, a friend tells me that many years
since, a family of gypsies encamped near the town of ——, and his
father gave them permission to draw all the water they needed from the
well on his land. During the long stay of the family in the locality he
did not lose one pennyworth by their depredations, notwithstanding that
all around chickens and other live stock disappeared—left home as it
were and forgot to return. There would appear to have been no actual
proof that the gypsies were implicated, but the animals vanished during
the time the gypsies were encamped there.
One cannot speak too highly of such traits in their character as love
of their children and mutual help. When bad luck comes they bow to the
inevitable, accepting it with a philosophy not possible to many of us.
When times are good, there is mutton in the pot and “spotted donkey,”
suet puddings, grace the festive board, and for this he is thankful,
but when his luck is out, he tightens his belt a little and looks
forward to the morrow,—his luck may turn, who knows?
Great indeed is the contrast between the luxury-loving, well-to-do man
about town of to-day and these Romany folk, a people who have scarcely
changed since they left India hundreds of years ago. Our progress in
Art and Science has scarcely touched them, they still retain their
language and many of their old customs, while the ethnographic student
will readily distinguish the prevalent Oriental cast of features. Many
of them set about their daily task much as did their early ancestors,
who lived in the same kind of tent. Even the little hanging-lamps
we see occasionally in the tents are of a design that is as old as
the hills, and to-day the Hindu uses just such a lamp. There is much
that is primitive, also much that is supremely fascinating about the
true gypsy, and if we could imagine him without his archaic, musical
language, he would still be a far more interesting and clear-cut
personality than the average gorgio or non-gypsy, and the reader will
find that we owe more to the gypsy than is commonly supposed.
Perhaps no more convincing proof of their Indian origin can be adduced
than the following short vocabulary of Romany words, selected to show
their similarity to Hindustanee and Sanscrit. It may be contended that
the language contains words derived from other nations or sources.
Fragments of other tongues have naturally crept in, but in this respect
an Englishman is scarcely the person to criticize.
ROMANY. ENGLISH. SANSCRIT AND
HINDUSTANI.
Ana. Bring. S. Ani.
Aok. The eye. H. Awk.
Ava. Yes. S. Eva.
Bal. Hair. S. Bala. H. Bal.
Bata. A bee. S. Pata.
Bebee. Aunt. H. Beebe.
Bokht. Luck. S. Bhāgya.
Boro. Great. H. Bura.
Bori-pawnee. Ocean. H. Bura-panee.
Bute. Much. H. Būt.
Can. The sun. H. Khan.
Chik. Earth, dirt. H. Chikkar.
Choom. To kiss. S. Chumb.
Chore. Thief. H. Chor.
Choro. Poor. H. Shor.
Churi. Knife. H. Churi.
Coco. Uncle. H. Caucau.
Dad. Father. H. Dada.
Dand. Tooth. S. Danta.
Devel. God. S. Deva.
Divvus. Day. S. Divasa.
Dur. Far. S. Dur.
Gare. To hide. S. Ghar.
Gono. A sack. H. Gon.
Gry. A horse. H. Ghora or Gorra.
Jib. To live. S. Jiv.
Kaun. An ear. S. Karna.
Kaulo. Black. S. Kala.
Ker. A house. S. Griha, H. Gurr.
Lang. Lame. S. Lang.
Lon. Salt. H. Lon.
Mang. To beg. H. Mangna.
Manushi. Woman. S. Manushi.
Mui. Mouth. H. Mu.
Mutchee. Fish. H. Muchee.
Nok. Nose. H. Nakh, or Nak.
Peero. Foot. H. Parow.
Pi. To drink. S. Piva.
Pukker. To speak. H. Pukar.
Puro. Old. S. Purā.
Putsi. Purse. S. Putā.
Rawnie. Lady. H. Ranee.
Rup. Silver. H. Rupee.
Sik. The taste. H. Tschik.
Siva. To sew. S. Siv.
Sonnikey. Gold. H. Suna.
Sutta. Sleep. H. Sutta.
Yokki. Clever. S. Yoga.
In the following list of numerals the words for seven and eight are
given, but nowadays few gypsies use them, many having forgotten them.
Instead of efta, or seven, they say Dui trins ta yeck, and for octo,
eight, Dui stors is used, for nine, Dui stors ta yeck, meaning
respectively, two threes and one, two fours, and two fours and one.
ROMANY. ENGLISH. HINDUSTANI.
Yeck. One. Ek.
Dui. Two. Du.
Trin. Three. Tin.
Stor. Four. Tschar.
Pantsch. Five. Pansch.
Tschowe. Six. Tscho.
Efta. Seven. Hefta.
Ochto. Eight. Aute.
Des. Ten. Des.
Bis. Twenty. Bjs.