A History of the Gipsies Part 25

[210] A song which a female Gipsy sang to Mr. Borrow, at Moscow, commenced in this way, "Her head is aching with grief, as if she had tasted wine;" and ended thus, "That she may depart in quest of the lord of her bosom, and share his joys and pleasures."--ED.

This family, like all their race, now became much alarmed at their communications; and it required considerable trouble on my part to allay their fears. The old man was in the greatest anguish of mind, at having committed himself at all, relative to his speech. I was very sorry for his distress, and renewed my promise not to publish his name, or place of residence, a.s.suring him he had nothing to fear. It is now many years since he died. He was considered a very decent, honest man, and was a great favourite with those who were acquainted with him. But his wife, and some other members of his family, followed the practices of their ancestors.

Publish their language! Give to the world that which they had kept to themselves, with so much solicitude, so much tenacity, so much fidelity, for three hundred and fifty years! A parallel to such a phenomenon cannot be found within the whole range of history.[211] What will the Tinklers, the "poor things," as Sir Walter Scott so feelingly called them--what will they think of me, after the publication of the present work?[212]

[211] Smith, in his "Hebrew people," writes: "The Jews had almost lost, in the _seventy_ years' captivity, their original language; that was now become dead; and they spoke a jargon made up of their own language and that of the Chaldeans, and other nations with whom they had mingled. Formerly, preachers had only explained subjects; now, they were obliged to explain words; words which, in the sacred code, were become obsolete, equivocal, dead."--ED.

[212] The Gipsies have been much annoyed, in late times, by people anxious to find out their secrets. The circ.u.mstance caused them, at first, much alarm as to what it meant; but when they came to learn the object of this modern Gipsy-hunting, they became, in a measure, reconciled to their troubles; for they were perfectly satisfied that the labours of these inquisitive people would, in the language of Ruthven, "be in vain." But the attempt of our author, with his "open sesame," caused not a few of them to travel through life with the weight of a millstone hanging about their necks, which the publication, now, is perhaps calculated to lighten. The "giving to the world everything relative to their tribe," was something they were more apt to over than under estimate. To be "put in the papers,"

judging from the horror with which such is regarded by our own humble people, was bad enough; still, the end of that would, in their peculiar way of thinking, be merely the "lighting of the candles, and curling the hair, of the gentle folk." But to have themselves put in a book--to see themselves, in their imaginations, "carried about in every bit herd-laddie's pouch," was something that aggravated them.

The presumptuous pride, the overweening conceit of a high-mettled Scottish Gipsy; his boasted descent--a descent at once high, ill.u.s.trious, and lost in antiquity; his unbounded contempt for the rabble of town and country--rendered him, under the circ.u.mstances, almost incapable of brooking the idea of seeing his race exposed to, what he would consider, the ridicule of the very herds. The very idea of it was to him mortifying and maddening. Well might our author, from having been so much mixed up with the Gipsies, show some hesitancy ere taking a step that would have brought such a nest of hornets about his ears. But, all things considered, my impression is, that the outdoor Gipsies, at the present day, will feel extremely proud of the present work; and that the same may be said of all cla.s.ses of them, if one subject had been excluded from the volume, over which they will be very apt to growl a little in secret.--ED.

While walking one day, with a friend, around the harbour of Grangemouth, I observed a man, who appeared above seventy years of age, carrying a small wooden box on his shoulder, a leathern ap.r.o.n tied around his waist, with a whitish coloured bull-dog following him. He was enquiring of the crews of the vessels in the port, whether they had any pots, kettles, or pans to repair. Just as my friend and I came up to him, on the quay, I said to him, in a familiar manner, as if I knew exactly what he was, "_Baurie jucal_," words which signify, in the Gipsy language, a "good dog." Being completely taken by surprise, the old man turned quickly round, and, looking down at his dog, said, without thinking what he was about, "Yes, the dog is not bad." But the words had scarcely escaped his lips ere he affected not to comprehend my question, after he had distinctly answered it. He looked exceedingly foolish, and afforded my friend a hearty laugh, at his attempt at recovering himself. He became agitated and angry, and called out, "What do you mean? I don't understand you--yes, the dog is _hairy_." I said not another word, nor took any further notice of him, but pa.s.sed on, in case of provoking him to mischief. He stood stock-still upon the spot, and, keeping his eyes fixed upon me, as long as I was in sight, appeared to be considering with himself what I could be, or whether he might not have seen me before. He looked so surprised and alarmed, that he could scarcely trust himself in the place, since he found, to a certainty, that his grand secret was known. I saw him a short while afterwards, at a little distance, with his gla.s.ses on, sitting on the ground, in the manner of the East, with his hammers and files, tin and copper, about him, repairing cooking utensils belonging to a vessel in the basin; with his trusty _jucal_, sitting close at his back, like a sentinel, to defend him. The truth is, I was not very fond of having anything further to do with this member of the tribe, in case he had resented my interference with him and his speech. This old man wore a long great-coat, and externally looked exactly like a blacksmith. No one of ordinary observation could have perceived him to be a Gipsy; as there were no striking peculiarities of expression about his countenance, which indicated him as being one of that race. I was surprised at my own discovery.

A Gipsy informed me that almost all our thimble-riggers, or "thimble-men," as they are sometimes called, are a superior cla.s.s of Gipsies, and converse in the Gipsy language. In the summer of 1836, an opportunity presented itself to me to verify the truth of this information. On a by-road, between Edinburgh and Newhaven, I fell in with a band of these thimble-riggers, employed at their nefarious occupation. The band consisted of six individuals, all personating different characters of the community. Some had the appearance of mercantile clerks, and others represented young farmers, or dealers in cattle, of inferior appearance. The man in charge of the board and thimbles looked like a journeyman blacksmith or plumber. They all pretended to be strangers to each other. Some were betting and playing, and others looking on, and acting as decoys. None besides themselves were present, except myself, a young lad, and a respectable-looking elderly female. I stood and looked at the band for a little; but as n.o.body was playing but themselves, the man with the thimbles, to lead me on, urged me to bet with him, and try my fortune at his board. I said I did not intend to play, and was only looking at them. I took a steady look at the faces of each of the six villains; but, whenever their eyes caught mine, they looked away, or down to the ground, verifying the saying that a rogue cannot look you in the face. The man at the board again urged me to play, and, with much vapouring and insolence, took out a handful of notes, and said he had many hundreds a year; that I was a poor, shabby fellow, and had no money on me, and, therefore, could not bet with him. I desired him to let me alone, otherwise I would let them see I was not to be insulted, and that I knew more about them than they were aware of. "Who the devil are you, sir, to speak to us in that manner," was the answer I received. I again replied, that, if they continued their insolence, I would show them who I was. This only provoked them the more, and encreased their violent behaviour. High words then arose, and the female alluded to, thinking I was in danger, kindly entreated me to leave them. I now thought it time to try what effect my Gipsy words would produce upon them. In an authoritative tone of voice, I called out to them, "_Chee, chee!_" which, in the Scottish Gipsy language, signifies "Hold your tongue," "be silent," or "silence."[213] The surprised thimble-men were instantly silent. They spoke not a word, but looked at one another. Only, one of them whispered to his companions, "He is not to be meddled with." They immediately took up their board, thimbles and all, and left the place, apparently in considerable alarm, some taking one direction and some another. The female in question was also surprised at seeing their insolent conduct repressed, in a moment, by a single expression. "But, sir," said she, "what was that you said to them, for they seem afraid?" I was myself afraid to say another word to them, and took care they did not see me go to my dwelling-house.[214]

[213] A lady, who had been seventeen years in India, told me that "_Chee_, _chee_" was, in Hindostanee, an expression of reproof, corresponding exactly with our "Fie, shame!" "Oh fie, shame!"

[214] About four years after this occurrence, I was invited to dine at the house of a friend, with whose wife I was not acquainted. On being introduced to her, I was rather surprised at the repeated hard looks which she took at me. At last she said, "I think I have seen you before. Were you never engaged with a band of thimble-men, near Newhaven?" I said I was, some years ago. "Do you recollect," continued she, "of a female taking you by the arm, and urging you to leave them?" I said, "Perfectly." "Well, then, I am the female; and I yet recollect your words were _Chee, chee_." She mentioned the circ.u.mstance to her husband at the time; but he always said to her that I must have been only one of the blackguards themselves, deceiving her. He would not listen to her when she described me as not at all like a thimble-rigger, but always answered her, "I tell ye, woman, the man you spoke to was nothing but one of these villains."

The thimble-riggers who molested Mr. Rose, s.h.i.+p-builder, so much, also answered my Gipsy words distinctly; and, ever afterwards, took off their hats to me, as I pa.s.sed them playing at their game.

[The thimble-men here alluded to took up their quarters immediately to the west of Leith Fort, where the road takes a turn, at a right angle, a little in front of Mr. Rose's house, and there takes a similar turn towards the west: the best position for carrying on the thimble game.

So exasperated was this gentleman, when, by every means in his power, he failed to dislodge them, that he sent some of the men from his yard, to erect, on the spot, a pole, which he covered with sheet-iron, to prevent its being cut down; and placed on the top of it a board, having this upon it, "Beware of thimble-riggers and chain-droppers,"

with a hand pointing directly below. This had no effect, however, for the "knights of the thimble" pursued their game right under it. A gentleman, in pa.s.sing one day, directed their attention to the board, but the only reply he got was, "Bah! that's nothing. Where can you find a shop without a sign? and where's the other person that gets a sign from the public for nothing?"

Thimble-rigging is peculiarly a Gipsy game. In Great Britain, the Gipsies nearly monopolize it; and it would be singular if some of the American thimblers were not Gipsies.--ED.]

One of the favourite, and permanent, fields of operation of these thimblers is on the Queensferry road, from where it is intersected by the street leading from the back of Leith Fort, on the east, to the new road leading from Granton pier, on the west. This part of the Queensferry road is intersected by about half-a-dozen cross-roads, all leading from the landing and s.h.i.+pping places at the piers of Granton, Trinity, and Newhaven. These cross-roads are cut by three roads running nearly parallel to each other, viz., the road along the sea-beach, Trinity road, and the Queensferry road. A great portion of the pa.s.sengers, by the many steamboats, pa.s.s along all these different roads, to and from Edinburgh. On all of these roads, between the water of Leith and the Forth, the thimble-riggers station themselves, as single individuals, or in numbers, as it may answer their purpose. In fact, this part of the country between the sea and Edinburgh, is so much chequered by roads crossing each other, that it may be compared to the meshes of a spider's web, and the thimblers as so many spiders, watching to pounce upon their prey. The moment one of these sentinels observes a stranger appear, signals are made to his confederates, when their organized plan of operations for entrapping the unwary person is immediately put in execution. Strangers, unacquainted with the locality, are greatly bewildered among all the cross-roads mentioned, and have considerable difficulty in threading their way to the city. One of the gang will then step forward, and, pretending to be a stranger himself, will enquire of the others the road to such and such a place. Frequently the unsuspecting and bewildered individual will enquire of the thimbler for some street or place in Edinburgh. The decoy and the victim now walk in company, and converse familiarly together on various topics; the thimbler offers snuff to his friend, and makes himself as agreeable as he can; while one of the gang, at a distance in front, drops a watch, chain, or other piece of mock jewelry, or commences playing at the thimble-board. The decoy is sure to lead his dupe exactly to the spot where the trap is laid, and where he will probably be plundered. One or these entrapments terminated in the death of its subject. A working man, having risked his half-year's wages at the thimble-board, of course lost every farthing of the money; and took the loss so much to heart as, in a fit of despondency, to drown himself in the water of Leith.

In the beginning of 1842, I fell in with six of these thimble-riggers and chain-droppers, on Newhaven road, on their way to Edinburgh. I was anxious to discover the nature of their conversation, and kept as close to them as I could, without exciting their suspicions. Like that of most people brought up in one particular line of life, their conversation related wholly to their own trade--that of swindling, theft, and robbery. I overheard them speaking of "b.l.o.o.d.y swells," and of dividing their booty. One of them was desired by the others to look after a certain steamboat, expected to arrive, and to get a bill to ascertain its movements exactly. He said he would "require three men to take care of that boat"; meaning, as I understood him, that all these men were necessary for laying his snares, and executing his designs upon the unsuspecting pa.s.sengers, as they landed from the vessel, and were on their way to their destinations. The manager of the steamboat company could not have consulted with his subordinates, about their lawful affairs, with more care and deliberation, or in a more cool, business-like way, than were these villains in contriving plans for plundering the public. On their approach to Pilrig street, the band separated into pairs; some taking the north, and some the south, side of Leith walk, for Edinburgh, where they vanished in the crowd. Their language was fearful, every expression being accompanied by a terrible oath.

On another occasion, I fell in with another band of these vagabond thimble-men, on the Dalkeith road, near Craigmiller Castle. I asked the fellow with the thimbles, "Is that _gaugie a nawken_?" pointing to one of the gang who had just left him. The question, in plain English, was, "Is that man a Gipsy?" The thimbler flew at once into a great pa.s.sion, and bawled out, "Ask himself, sir." He then fell upon me, and a gentleman who was with me, in most abusive language, applying to us the most insulting epithets he could think of. It was evident to my friend that the thimble-man perfectly understood my Gipsy question. So enraged was he, that we were afraid he would follow us, and do us some harm. My friend did not consider himself safe till he was in the middle of Edinburgh, for many a look did he cast behind him, to see whether the Gipsy was not in pursuit of us.[215]

[215] There is a Gipsy belonging to one of these bands, known by the soubriquet of the "winged duck," from having lost an arm, of whom I have often heard our author speak. He is what may be called the captain of the company. A description of him, and his way of life, may be interesting, inasmuch as it ill.u.s.trates a cla.s.s of Scottish Gipsies at the present day.

About the year 1853, three young gentlemen, from the town of Leith, had occasion to take a stroll over Arthur's Seat, a hill that overhangs Edinburgh, on the east side of the city. In climbing the hill, they observed, a little way before them, a man toiling up the ascent, whom they did not notice till they came close upon him, and who had evidently been laying off on the side of the path, and entered it as they approached it. He appears about sixty years of age, is well dressed, and carries a fine cane, which he keeps pressing into the ground, to help him up the hill. Just as they make up to him, he abruptly stops, and turns round, so as almost to touch them. "Hech, how! I'm blown, I'm blown; I'm fairly done up. Young gentlemen, you have the advantage of me; I'm getting old, and it is hard for me to climb the hill." (Blown, done up, indeed! The fellow has stamina enough to outclimb any of them for years yet.) An agreeable conversation ensues, such as at once gains for him the confidence of the youths. He appears to them so mild, so bland, so fatherly, so worthy of respect, in short, a "nice old cove," who is evidently enjoying his _otium c.u.m dignitate_ in his old age, in some cottage near by, upon a pension, an annuity, or a moderate competency of some sort. During the conversation, he manages to ascertain that his young friends have not been on the hill for some time--that one of them, indeed, has never been there before. All at once he exclaims, "Ah!

what can this be? Let us go and see." Upon which they step forward to look at a person like a mechanic playing at the thimbles. Placing his arm around the neck of one of the young men, he begins to moralize: "Pray, young gentlemen, don't bet, (they had not shown the least symptoms of doing that;) it's wrong to bet; it's a thing I never do; I would advise you not to do it. This is a rascally thimbler; he'll cheat, he'll rob you." At this time there are three playing at the board, winning and losing money rapidly. The "old cove" becomes impatient to be gone, and motions so as to imply, "Boys, let us go, let us go." Moving a few steps forward, he halts to admire the scenery, (but casts a leering eye in the direction of the board.) "Ah!

there's another goose gone to be plucked; let us see what luck he meets with."

Now thimble rigging is the game, of all others, by which the uninitiated can be duped. They see the pea put under one of the thimbles, (nutsh.e.l.ls they are, indeed;) there seems to be no doubt of that. The thimbles are then so gently moved, that any one can follow them. The pea is not afterwards tampered with--that is evident. All, then, that remains to be done, is to lift the thimble under which the pea is, and secure your prize. But the thimble man, with his long nail, and nimble finger, has secured the pea under his nail, or, with the crook of his little finger, thrust it into the palm of his hand, while he pretended to cover it with the thimble. An accomplice, to make doubly sure of the pea being under the thimble, lifts it, and shows a pea, which he, by sleight of hand, drops, and, while pretending to cover it, as nimbly takes it up again.

Betting and playing go on as before. The player makes some fine hauls, but loses a game. He swears that foul play has been used. An altercation follows. The man at the board gets excited, and to show that he really is honourable in his playing, exclaims, "Well, sir, there's your money again; try another game if you have a mind." "Now that is really honest, and no mistake about it," remarks the "old cove." Then the thimbler averts his head, to speak to a person behind him, and the "old cove" slyly lifts a thimble and shows the pea, and whispers very confidentially to his friends, "Now, young gentlemen, you can safely bet a few s.h.i.+llings on that." They shake their heads, however, for they know too much about thimbling. The "old cove" now gets fidgety, and, managing to edge a little away from the board, commences, in a subdued tone, to speak, in a strange gibberish, to another bystander; but, forgetting himself, drops a word rather louder than the others, on which, as he turns round and catches the eyes of his young friends, he coughs and hems. On hearing the gibberish, a fear steals over the young men, on finding themselves surrounded by a band of desperadoes, in so solitary a place, and they make haste to be off. But the "old cove," to quiet their suspicions, accompanies them to a convenient spot, where he leaves them, to go to his home, by a side-path that soon leads him out of sight. On separating, he looks around him at the scenery, now lets fall his stick, now picks up something, that he may, with less suspicion, watch the movements of his escaped victims. They feel a singular relief in getting rid of his company, and, with tact, dog him over the hill, till they see him go back to the thimblers. They then think over their adventure, and the strange jargon they have heard, and unanimously exclaim, "Wasn't he a slippery old serpent, after all!"

On this occasion, there were no less than fourteen of these fellows present, some of them stationed here, some there, while they kept artfully moving around and about the hill, so as not to appear connected, but frequently approached the board, to contribute to and watch their luck. They personated various characters. One of them played the country lout, whose dress, gait, gape, and stare were inimitable. On the slightest symptom of danger manifesting itself, they would, by the movement of a hat, scatter, and vanish in an instant.

Among the people generally, a mystery attaches to these and other thimble-men. No one seems to know any thing about them--who they are or where they come from--and yet they are seen flitting everywhere through the country; but hardly ever two days together in one dress.

But the mystery is solved by their being Gipsies. They are dangerous fellows to meddle with; yet they seem to prefer thimbling, chain-dropping, card-playing, pocket-picking, in fairs and thoroughfares, and pigeon-plucking in every form, to robbery on the high-way, after the manner of their ancestors.

Thimble-rigging, according to Sir J. Gardner Wilkinson, was practised in ancient Egypt. He calls it "thimble-rig, or the game of cups, under which a ball was put, while the opposite party guessed under which of four it was concealed."--ED.

The Gipsies in Scotland consider themselves to be of the same stock as those in England and Ireland, for they are all acquainted with the same speech. They afford a.s.sistance to one another, whenever they happen to meet. The following facts will at least show that the Scottish and Irish Gipsies are one and the same people.

In the county of Fife, I once fell in with an Irish family, to appearance in great poverty and distress, resting themselves on the side of the public road. A shelty and an a.s.s were grazing hard by. The a.s.s they used in carrying a woman, who, they said, was a hundred and one years of age. She was shrunk and withered to a skeleton, or rather, I should say, to a bundle of bones; and her chin almost rested on her knees, and her body was nearly doubled by age. On interrogating the head of the family, I found that his name was Hugh White, and that he was an Irishman, and a son of the old woman who was with him. I put some Gipsy words to him, to ascertain whether or not he was one of the tribe. He pretended not to understand what I said; but his daughter, of about six years of age, replied, "But I understand what he says." I then called out sharply to him, "_Jaw vree_"--("Go away," or "get out of the way.") "As soon as I can," was his answer. On leaving him, I again called, "_Beens.h.i.+p-davies_"--("Good-day.") "Good-day, sir; G.o.d bless you," was his immediate reply.

I happened, at another time, to be in the court-house of one of the burghs north of the Forth, when two Irishmen, of the names of O'Reilly and McEwan, were at the bar for having been found drunk, and fighting within the town. They were sentenced by the magistrates to three days'

imprisonment, and to be "banished the town," for their riotous conduct.

The men had the Irish accent, and had certainly been born and brought up in Ireland; but their habiliments and general appearance did not correspond exactly with the ordinary dress and manners of common Irish peasants, although their features were in all respects Hibernian. When the magistrates questioned them in respect to their conduct, the prisoners looked very grave, and said, "Sure, and it plase your honours, our quarrel was nothing but whiskey, and sure we are the best friends in the world;" and seemed very penitent. But when the magistrates were not looking at them, they were smiling to each other, and keeping up a communication in pantomime. Suspecting them to be Irish Gipsies, I addressed the wife of McEwan as follows: "For what is the _riah_ (magistrate) going to put your _gaugie_ (man) in _staurdie_, (prison)?"

"Only for a little whiskey, sir," was her immediate reply. She gave me, on the spot, the English of the following words; adding, at the same time, that I had got the _Gipsy_ language, but that hers was only the _English cant_. She was afraid to acknowledge that she was a Gipsy, as such a confession might, in her opinion, have proved prejudicial to her husband, in the situation in which he was placed.

_Gaugie_, man.

_Managie_, woman.

_Chauvies_, children.

_Riah_, magistrate.

_Chor_, thief.

_Yaka_, eyes.

_Grye_, horse.

_Roys_, spoons.

_Skews_, platters.

_Mashlam_, metal.

I observed the woman instantly communicate to her husband the conversation she had with me. She immediately returned to me, and, after questioning me as to my name, occupation, and place of residence, very earnestly entreated me to save her _gaugie_ from the _staurdie_. I asked her, how many _chauvies_ she had? "Twelve, sir." Were any of them _chors_? "None, sir." Two of her _chauvies_ were in her hand, weeping bitterly. The woman was in great distress, and when she heard the sound of her own language, she thought she saw a friend. I informed one of the magistrates, whom I knew, that the prisoners were Gipsies; and proposed to him to mitigate the punishment of the woman's husband, on condition of his giving me a specimen of his secret speech. But the reply of the man of authority was, "The scoundrel shall lie in prison till the last hour of his sentence." The "scoundrel" however, did not remain in durance so long. While the jailer was securing him in prison, the determined Tinkler, with the utmost coolness and indifference, asked him, which part of the jail would be the easiest for him to break through. The jailer told him that, if he attempted to escape, the watchman, stationed in the church-yard, close to the prison, would shoot him. On visiting the prison next morning, the turnkey found that the Gipsy had undone the locks of the doors, and fled during the night.

O'Reilly, the other Gipsy, remained, in a separate cell, the whole period of his sentence. When the officers were completing the other part of his punishment--"banis.h.i.+ng him from the town"--the regardless, light-hearted Irish Tinkler went capering along the streets, with his coat off, brandis.h.i.+ng, and sweeping, and twirling his s.h.i.+llalah, in the Gipsy fas.h.i.+on. Meeting, in this excited state, his late judge, the Tinkler, with the utmost contempt and derision, called out to him, "Plase your honour! won't you now take a fight with me, for the sake of friends.h.i.+p?" This worthy Irish Gipsy represented himself as the head Tinkler in Perth, and the first of the second cla.s.s of boxers.

On another occasion, I observed a horde of Gipsies on the high street of Inverkeithing, employed in making spoons from horn. I spoke to one of the young married men, partly in Scottish Gipsy words, when he immediately answered me in English. He said they were all natives of Ireland. They had, male and female, the Irish accent completely. I invited this man to accompany me to a public-house, that I might obtain from him a specimen of his Irish Gipsy language. The town-clerk being in my company at the time, I asked him to go with me, to hear what pa.s.sed; but he refused, evidently because he considered that the company of a Gipsy would contaminate and degrade him. I treated the Tinkler with a gla.s.s of spirits, and obtained from him the following words:

_Yaik_, one.

_Duie_, two.

_Trin_, three.

_Punch_, five.

_Saus_, six.

_Luften_, eight.

_Sonnakie_, gold.

_Roug_, silver.

_Vanister_, ring.

_Rat_, night.

_Cham_, the moon.

_Borlan_, the sun.

_Yak_, fire.

_Chowrie_, knife.

_Bar_, stone.

_Shuha_, coat.

_Roy_, spoon.

_Chauvie_, child.

_Gaugie_, man.

_Mort and kinshen_, wife and child.

_Klistie_, soldier.

_Ruffie lee ma_, devil miss me.

_Nasher_, deserter.

_Daw-douglars_, hand-cuffs.