Beyond an allusion now and again, I have not hitherto had occasion to
say anything of gypsy jewellery or personal adornment, but as these
subjects have an intimate connection with the Romany life and are in
many respects notably characteristic of the people, they demand more
than passing mention.
Gypsies undoubtedly inherit from their Oriental forbears a love of
jewellery, brilliantly coloured fabrics, and the use of ornaments of
various kinds for the adornment of their persons, and, in common with
Orientals generally, they not only have this predilection but possess
the ability to use these things in the most artistic fashion,—perhaps
it would not be wrong to call it instinct, for they appear to be
as incapable of doing otherwise as they are of moving or posing
ungracefully.
Ear-rings, beads, and the hair are the three things that will leave
the most lasting impression on the memory after a casual meeting with
Romany women and girls.
Ear-rings are very generally worn and as a study are quite
interesting,—many being very old, having been handed down from one
generation to another, others are quaint in design, curiously massive,
or otherwise striking in appearance.
I was once engaged in conversation with a Romany woman who was wearing
rather curious large gold ear-rings, and upon my remarking that they
appeared to be of good workmanship, she obligingly removed them from
her ears and placed them in my hand in order that I might examine them
more closely and estimate their weight. There could be no doubt they
were, as she suggested, old Indian work.
By far the greater number are of crescentic design, consisting of
either a single crescent or a combination of crescents. I have not
been able to discover a reason for the partiality to this design, but
as gypsies regard many things as “lucky” and others as “unlucky” it
is probable that this form has acquired among them the reputation of
being lucky. Some early Egyptian ear-rings were of this form, and the
crescent is also used as a religious symbol, but the real origin of
its use is obscure; the following account is, however, ingenious and
interesting if not accurate. We read that:—
“This device of the Ottoman Empire (the crescent) is of great
antiquity, as appears from several medals, and took its rise from an
event related by Stephanus the Geographer, a native of Byzantium. He
tells us that Philip, the father of Alexander the Great, meeting with
mighty difficulties in the siege of that city, set the workmen on a
very dark night to undermine the walls, that his troops might enter the
place without being perceived; but, luckily for the besieged, the moon
appearing discovered the design, which accordingly miscarried.
“In acknowledgment of this deliverance,” he says, “the Byzantines
erected a statue to Diana, and thus the crescent became their symbol.”
The following interesting reference to ear-piercing is to be found in
Exodus XXI. 5, 6:—
“And if the servant shall plainly say, I love my master, my wife, and
my children; I will not go out free: Then his master shall bring him
unto the judges; and shall also bring him to the door, or unto the door
post; and his master shall bore his ear through with an awl; and he
shall serve him for ever.”
Under these circumstances the boring of the ear evidently indicated
servitude, and it has been suggested the inserting of rings was
intended to prevent the holes closing, so that their value as a visible
sign of bondage should be permanent; a state of affairs certainly not
implied by the ear-ring habit of the present-day gypsy.
In a previous chapter reference was made to the persecution of the
gypsies by Henry VIII, and we find that his laws affecting dress, made
in 1532, were not of a nature to render life more endurable by people
of their proclivities.
“Jewellery of every kind was forbidden below a certain degree, while
the common people were not to wear even a silver button or any kind of
ornament except a badge of service.” However, all laws regulating dress
were repealed by statute in the first year of the reign of James I.
In Eastern countries much larger ear-rings are worn than is customary
among ourselves, but even in this country—although a variety of
comparatively small patterns, from the plain circle of gold wire to
elaborate silver or gold drops, are in favour—very large ones may
sometimes be seen in the ears of Romany women. Next to the plain
circle in the scale of ornament is the simple crescent (Fig. 1) or
a small plain drop, then ear-rings which are a combination of two
or more crescents (Fig. 2), or of crescents and different drops,
various composite designs, and lastly the very long, and more or less
elaborate, pendulous drop patterns, many of these latter being much
more striking in appearance than elaborate in design. The largest
ear-rings I have yet seen were being worn by an olive-complexioned
Romany woman; they were of silver, and consisted mainly of long,
angular drops, between three and four inches in length, which were, of
course, hollow, the only attempt at ornamentation being a sunk panel
in each of the faces (Fig. 3); so long were they that they swung only
comfortably clear of the woman’s shoulders, her fine features, dark
complexion and black hair, with these outlandish silver ornaments
presenting a _tout ensemble_ at once striking and artistic.
[Illustration: JEWELLERY.]
Many of the little girls wear ear-rings, mostly of silver but
occasionally of gold; the design illustrated at Fig. 4 is a favourite
with both adults and children; the originals of the illustration,
however, were of gold, worn by a child. Fig. 5 consisted of a
diamond-cut stone supporting an amber drop of rather quaint
appearance, but whether of Oriental or Birmingham workmanship I cannot
say; that illustrated by Fig. 6 was composed of malachite and silver.
The remaining illustrations will speak for themselves, perhaps,
excepting Fig. 7, which were unquestionably valuable and were
beautifully made of burnished and matte yellow gold.
Nearly all the females—whether of tender years or adult—wear
necklaces of some description, their fondness for beads amounting
almost to a passion; but with beads, as in other gypsy matters, there
appears to be a sort of vogue or preference for certain shapes and
colours. Very frequently, but not invariably, the beads worn are black
or red—two “lucky” colours, by the way. The shape most favoured is
perhaps that of a cowrie (Fig. 8), approximately, and there appears to
be ground for supposing that at one time cowries may have been used
in this manner, giving place eventually to coral or stones turned to
roughly imitate them. The beads used differ much in size, varying from
one-eighth of an inch in length and of like diameter, to an inch or
more in length by three-quarters of an inch in diameter.
Were it possible to trace these strings of beads through all their
vicissitudes of time and place not a few, it would be discovered, have
emanated within the last twenty or thirty years from that birthplace of
so much “genuine” Hindu, Egyptian and similar work, a place known to
gypsies as Kaulo gav (Black town), otherwise Birmingham, while others
would be found to have been religiously cared for and passed on by
generation after generation of the same family almost from the time of
their shaping in the Far East; indeed, after carefully examining some
of these old beads, but little imagination is needed to present to
the mind’s eye a Hindu squatting at his primitive lathe, turning and
shaping coral, stone or wood into just such beads.
Occasionally, the beads of a necklace are nicely graduated or otherwise
regularly varied in size; again, they may be seen having no order or
arrangement, as though composed of portions of several necklaces. The
only rule I have been able to discover concerning the number of strings
or rows of beads one wears is, that each one wears all she has,—if
enough for one string only, it suffices; if she be fortunate enough to
possess sufficient for three, four or six rows, then she wears all of
them, but two or three rows are more usual.
Gypsy women have distinct and artistic styles of dressing the hair, of
which they mostly have an abundance, and I have known more than one
Romany chal who was proud of his glossy, black ringlets, but nowadays
one would probably have some difficulty in finding such. Some of the
men adopt the fringe style for their front locks, others cultivate the
“curl” of the rural labourer, but quite frequently young men and lads
have the hair closely cropped,—“it’s cleaner in the warm weather,”
said one to me; “my missis allus cuts mine, she’s done it ever since
we’ve been married, with the horse-clippers.”
“No I haven’t,” interpolated the wife; “I’ve done it with the small
ones.”
“Well,” he retorted, “they are almost the same.”
In a gypsy encampment there is generally one of the men who is handy
with scissors and razor; naturally his services are preferred by the
community to those of the professional barber. Sunday is the day when
the tonsorial artist of the camp is busy, and for fairly obvious
reasons,—in the first place, he is not at work,—that is to say, he is
not pursuing his ordinary vocation; secondly, Sunday generally finds
almost every one at the vans or tents.
Perhaps no more ridiculous statements have ever been made than those
relating to the habits of gypsies; one such informs its readers that
gypsies darken their hair to black by the “subtle use of certaine
herbes,” but omits to state why gypsy women—whose hair is naturally as
black and lustrous as possible—should desire, or endeavour to darken
it by the application of absurd preparations.
The women are proud of their hair, and spend considerable time in
attending to it. I once asked one of them how she managed to keep her
hair in such perfect condition.
“If you are not in a hurry to go, I’ll show you,” she replied.
A child was forthwith despatched with a bucket to an adjacent spring
for water; meanwhile the woman loosed her hair from its many tiny
plaits, and, as she sat upon the ground, it fell around her like a
black cascade, and was of such length that it lay upon the ground;
she proceeded next to wet the hair thoroughly by the simple method of
holding her head over the pail and plying the brush which was now and
again plunged into the water.
[Illustration: STYLES OF HAIR-DRESSING.]
After partly drying her hair by means of a towel, she allowed the
breeze to play through it; grease was now rubbed well into it and
as much as possible afterwards removed by brushing, etc. Any grease is
used for this purpose, but in this instance I saw ordinary dripping
applied, not the “fat of hedgehogs,” stated by writers to be so
excellent and to be the grease used by the gypsies.
This brings us to the business of plaiting, and I must confess that
this part of the procedure was a revelation to me by reason of the
rapidity with which it was executed, reminding me of some gypsy girls
whom I once saw plaiting straw basket-work; there was no secrecy or
dodging about it, their fingers moved and the work grew, but the
movements were so rapid that the process could not be followed. She
made five plaits which began near each ear and met behind the head in
a series of “door knockers,” to say nothing of several smaller ones;
having done this she announced her intention of facing my camera; I
would have much preferred her facing me—to use an Irishism—with
the back of her head, to enable me to give the reader a better idea
of those wonderful plaits than is possible by the pen of a mere
man; on Plate 15, however, will be found photographs of styles of
hair-dressing, all of which were taken from members of the Romany, or,
as some prefer to call themselves, the travelling fraternity.
An article of dress which must not be overlooked is the neckerchief.
It is used by both men and women and combines the functions of use
and adornment; sometimes they are of silk of brilliant colouring,
more often, however, they are composed of less costly material but
are not less dazzling in colour, for in the matter of neckerchiefs
and handkerchiefs the gypsy usually allows his love for colour full
play, and it should occasion no surprise if he blossom out on Sundays
in all the glory of a vivid scarlet or yellow neckerchief, which is
relieved or ornamented, as the case may be, with spots of a contrasting
colour or white as large as a shilling, but it is only just to say
that most of the neckerchiefs worn by them are less terrible in their
aggressiveness.
[Illustration: A “ROMANCHAL”]
The silk handkerchief is occasionally worn as a shawl by the
women-folk, and, in event of the sun’s rays becoming uncomfortably hot,
it is wrapped around the head in a style not inappropriately called
by them an “Italian cap.” I was once arranging to photograph a Romany
girl, when her companion, who happened to be a very-much-alive
gypsy, appropriated my velvet focussing cloth and forthwith made for
herself therewith an Italian cap. I have ever since regretted I did
not manage without the cloth and photograph her and the impromptu
head-dress.
Some of the girls and younger women have a pretty habit of wearing
flowers in the hair,—small sprays of foliage being used when flowers
are not obtainable,—thereby reminding one of a similar custom of the
natives of Tahiti, who, however, go a step further and wear a flower
inserted in a small hole in each ear in addition to those in the hair.
It is a noteworthy fact that whenever Romany women purchase jewellery,
articles of distinctly Oriental design, or having an Oriental or quaint
appearance, are almost invariably selected.
Brooches, which are fine examples of cameo sculpture, are occasionally
seen being worn by them, and as these are mostly Italian productions
they may have been procured during a sojourn in that country; but it is
more likely they have been purchased in England, as they were at one
time in great demand and many thousands were imported.
Certain features of the gypsy dress remind one of that of the coster,
the large hat with its “fevver” being the heart’s desire of gypsy
Fenella and coster ’Arriet alike; with regard, however, to the dress of
the male gypsy, little need be said, but that the coster delights more
in display than does our present-day gypsy; even the gypsy of a few
years since, in his full array of silver buttons, was dressed modestly
in comparison with the barbaric pearly rig-out of the coster. In the
way of head-gear, the Romany chal usually prefers a cloth cap or a
slouch hat, albeit a large, high-crowned straw hat may be occasionally
found among horse-dealers and children. Among Romany folk, then, love
of finery and display would appear to be the exclusive privilege of the
female gypsy. I have seen silver umbrella handles mounted and worn by
them as brooches, half-crowns as brooches to keep an apron string in
place, bones which are considered lucky mounted in silver and worn on
the breast, and so on. One of the first questions one asks of another
when inspecting jewellery is—“Is it silver?”
[Illustration: ITALIAN CAP.]
As many of these people can neither read nor write, it will be obvious
that most of their accounts are settled otherwise than by cheque: the
gypsy may, in truth, be called a ready-money concern. Not many years
since, members of a certain tribe who were horse-dealers might have
been seen at horse fairs and the like, and although any one of them
knew well how to drive a hard bargain, he did not pay with a worthless
cheque, but produced a purse, apparently made from an old stocking,
and from its contents of a hundred or a hundred and fifty pounds, paid
for his purchases on the spot, in sterling gold. It is, of course,
possible that with the advance of civilization gypsies have now grasped
the possibilities of the credit system, and that perchance some may
be found who know how to pay their debts with flash notes or cheques
that will not be honoured; but so far as my observation goes, the good
old-fashioned style of coin on the spot is adhered to.
The women usually carry their money on their persons, the coins being
tied up in a piece of fabric to which a string is affixed; this they
tie around the neck, the money being suspended a few inches below
the chin underneath the dress; the key of the caravan is sometimes
similarly suspended.
In the method of carrying their children, the women remind one of the
Kaffirs and other races who carry their babes upon the hip.
The gypsy generally uses a broad, endless strip of carpet or similarly
strong fabric which is passed over one shoulder,—usually the
right,—making a kind of pocket for the baby, which rests against the
left hip and receives additional support from the left arm; thus the
right arm is free to carry a basket or to be used in other ways.
It is no light task for a woman,—this carrying, many miles in the day,
of a heavy child on the one hand, and a large basket full of various
articles on the other,—and yet it is done by many of the gypsy women,
day in, day out, and seldom, indeed, is there any real expression or
manifestation of distress other than the mute appeal of a melancholy
face.
When gypsy children are old enough to sit erect, they are frequently
carried sitting astride the hip of the mother, who keeps them in
position and gives support with one arm, precisely in the manner of the
Kaffir women.
[Illustration: “MAIDEN MEDITATION.”]
Photography enables us—as nothing else can—to secure truthful and
permanent records of the features and fleeting expressions of our
fellow-creatures—not the least pleasing among such photographs being
pictures of happy childhood. The first time I saw the original of one
of my favourite pictures—the roguish, happy-looking little Romany
girl of the Illustration, page 128—she was playing in a green lane
with a number of youngsters, several of whom were not unlike her, while
others were of a quite degenerate type; one or two of them, indeed,
tried to rifle my pockets while others engaged my attention; it is,
however, but fair to the children to say that this was done at the
instigation of the adults, who had called out from the tent on the
other side of the hedge—
“Chiv tuti’s vast adrey the Rye’s putsi.”
My reply—“Mande jinned what you penned”—appeared to surprise them.
“So you did, did you?” queried one of the women, and thereupon she
looked as it were beyond me, assuming an expression only to be
described by an editor’s usual notice to quarrelsome correspondents:—
“This discussion must now close.”
Later in the day, when we had become better acquainted, this merry
youngster, who had kept aloof while the others were intent on my
pockets, came to me, and, slipping her hand into mine, said—
“My name’s ——, you like me the best.”
I confessed that I did.
Cretinism—according to one writer—is prevalent among gypsies. I am
inclined to think that if this statement be based on statistics, they
referred to Chorodies rather than to true gypsies, or at least that
Chorodies and Romanies were not differentiated when the statistics were
collected. I have lived and wandered among the gypsies of our southern
counties for many years, and have yet to find sufficient evidence
of cretinism to warrant a statement that it is prevalent. These
observations refer to the dark-complexioned, true Romany people and the
posh ta posh folk—as the gypsy calls the Romany half-breeds—and not
to the Chorodies, who, apart from their wandering habits, have very
little in common with true gypsies.
Amongst all peoples, examples of deformed humanity are occasionally
brought into the world; but the proportion of such among true gypsies
would appear to be small, and while Romany folk are notably quick,
keen-witted and brainy, I have not observed—even among the very
small proportion of deformed—that the idiocy, goitre, or other
characteristic features of cretinism exist to any marked degree.
[Illustration: METHOD OF CARRYING BABY AND BASKET.]
Formerly, it was a rigid Romany law that no gypsy should marry outside
the race, therefore imaginative writers with little or no inner
knowledge of the people, have jumped to the conclusion that gypsies
must of necessity suffer from consanguineous marriage. It is true that
Romany cousins occasionally contract marriage, but it must be borne
in mind that this marriage of cousins occurs to a much greater extent
among the rest of our population, and a knowledge of the subject
generally forces on one the opinion that consanguineous marriages are
not proportionately more frequent among gypsies than English people in
general.
It is quite natural that a gypsy should prefer as a partner for life
one of his own race, and as it has been estimated that there are some
twenty thousand to twenty-five thousand gypsies in this country, and it
is a fact that the greater number of gypsies do not marry those related
to them, even distantly, one can but characterize any disparagement
of the gypsy in this direction as an unchristian endeavour to incite
public feeling against him.
Referring to the custom of gypsies marrying only those of their own
race, matters are not quite as they were formerly, although in some
tribes still the marrying of a Gentile by one of its members is
sufficient to deprive the offender of all intimate intercourse with
the remainder of the family, but in this respect, the possession by
the interloper of a liberal share of this world’s goods may make much
difference, for a wealthy Gentile is not always so heartily despised
by the Romanies as they would have one believe; in bygone times even
members of the peerage have led to the altar dusky brides from the
gypsy tent.
The complexion of different tribes of gypsies varies very much,—from a
light olive to a decided walnut brown. I know one family of which all
the members are “almost black” in the popular sense of the term. I have
been informed that “the last of the real old black gypsies” was buried
at a family burial-place called Mousehold, near Norwich, many years
since. If, however, the individual then laid to rest was of darker
complexion than the members of several families of my acquaintance,
then he or she was undoubtedly “some black,” as our American friends
would have it.
Of the “black” gypsies to whom I have referred, one of the families can
boast of having had, not many years since, two of their number who bore
the titles of Gypsy King and Queen. Unfortunately, the appellations
yielded no emolument, and it is to be feared if the King had been
caught using a rabbit net, the magistrate would have had so little
respect for the title that he would have imposed on his majesty the
same sentence as on a common poacher.
[Illustration: CARRYING CHILD ON HIP.]
I have a very distinct recollection of my first meeting with this
family, for I was accompanied by a friend who, upon catching sight of
them at their camp, remarked: “They are a black lot anyway, you should
try and persuade them to sit for a photograph.”
“Suppose,” said I, “you air your diplomacy and see what you can do,
meanwhile I’ll wait here.”
Nothing loth, he proceeded to the camp and explained that his friend
would like to photograph the family, with the following result:—
“No, we ain’t ready,—come next week if you like,—we ain’t goin’ to be
took to-day.”
Returning to me, my friend reported: “It’s no go, they won’t let you do
it, but perhaps you may be able to persuade them.”
Armed with my hand camera and the politest Romany I could muster I
advanced to the attack. Before many minutes had elapsed, my comrade
sauntered up and was surprised to find me preparing to photograph them,
the “open sesame” to their hearts having been,—not backsheesh,—but,
as the reader will have already surmised, the gentle Romany tongue.
My companion, who knew nothing of the language, would not have gained
their consent had he argued until nightfall.
The woman put one or two artful questions to me, such as would cause a
beginner at the language to stumble, but, fortunately, I saw through
the stratagem and passed my exam, with honours.
I exposed a couple of plates on the group, after which the woman came
to me and said:
“We had the preachers here just before you came up, but they don’t
understand gypsy talk, so we’d like you to give us the Lord’s Prayer
in Romany. If you will, I’ll call the children from the other camp;
there’s a dozen of us altogether, but only two as can read.”
Of course I consented, and after the occupants of the adjacent tent
had joined the group, all stood silent and attentive while I repeated
the words, which, to the ordinary English ear, sound so strange. At
the concluding words—Si covar ajaw—the woman said “Paracrow tuti” (I
thank you).
[Illustration: “YOU LIKE ME THE BEST.”]
Oftentimes since have I thought of this incident, and it has occurred
to me that Christian workers among these people are often obliged to
confess that after years of wearying labour, little or no evident
progress has attended their efforts, but there is here some indication
that the good seed implanted may not always die, but may lie dormant
awaiting the conditions that will favour its development.
Possibly some cynic may accuse these gypsies of hypocrisy,—of
simulating a desire he considers foreign to their nature in order to
beg successfully afterwards. I am afraid such an accusation would not
be unjust to many of the Chorodies, but the great majority of gypsies
would consider such action beneath them.
As I have had no connection with any religious body working among
gypsies, but have mingled with them, helped with their work, lived
and wandered amongst them because I like the people, and as they have
always treated me with kindness, literally as one of themselves, I
have probably had opportunities of estimating results that are denied
the workers themselves, and I consider the incident just related to
be typical of the attitude of the gypsies, that is to say, they are
not altogether indifferent, but, above all else, Romany folk desire to
preserve their own language, and all other things being equal, it would
seem that the man who will be the greatest power in getting gypsies to
turn to the light, will be one who has an intimate knowledge of them
and will talk and reason with them in their own language.
It is to be feared, however, that in some minds the unworthy feeling
exists that it would savour of paganism, or at the least be irreligious
to pray in a gypsy tongue. Surely it is time our views were broadened a
little.
I have seen gypsies playing pitch and toss, and have many times looked
on at their games with cards, which are usually played solely for the
pleasure they afford, counters in the form of buttons or stones being
used instead of money. The gypsy—wicked as he is said to be—does not
lose many pounds nightly at bridge, roulette or at the casino.