The Romany Rye

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"They seem rather flighty, Jasper."

"Ay, ay, brother!"

"Rather fond of loose discourse!"

"Rather so, brother."

"Can you always trust them, Jasper?"

"We never watch them, brother."

"Can they always trust you?"

"Not quite so well as we can them. However, we get on very well
together, except Mikailia and her husband; but Mikailia is a
cripple, and is married to the beauty of the world, so she may be
expected to be jealous--though he would not part with her for a
duchess, no more than I would part with my rawnie, nor any other
chal with his."

"Ay, but would not the chi part with the chal for a duke, Jasper?"

"My Pakomovna gave up the duke for me, brother."

"But she occasionally talks of him, Jasper."

"Yes, brother, but Pakomovna was born on a common not far from the
sign of the gammon."

"Gammon of bacon, I suppose."

"Yes, brother; but gammon likewise means--"

"I know it does, Jasper; it means fun, ridicule, jest; it is an
ancient Norse word, and is found in the Edda."

"Lor', brother! how learned in lils you are!"

"Many words of Norse are to be found in our vulgar sayings, Jasper;
for example--in that particularly vulgar saying of ours, 'Your
mother is up,' there's a noble Norse word; mother, there, meaning
not the female who bore us, but rage and choler, as I discovered by
reading the Sagas, Jasper."

"Lor', brother! how book-learned you be."

"Indifferently so, Jasper. Then you think you might trust your
wife with the duke?"

"I think I could, brother, or even with yourself."

"Myself, Jasper! Oh, I never troubled my head about your wife; but
I suppose there have been love affairs between gorgios and Romany
chies. Why, novels are stuffed with such matters; and then even
one of your own songs says so--the song which Ursula was singing
the other afternoon."

"That is somewhat of an old song, brother, and is sung by the chies
as a warning at our solemn festivals."

"Well! but there's your sister-in-law, Ursula, herself, Jasper."

"Ursula, herself, brother?"

"You were talking of my having her, Jasper."

"Well, brother, why didn't you have her?"

"Would she have had me?"

"Of course, brother. You are so much of a Roman, and speak Romany
so remarkably well."

"Poor thing! she looks very innocent!"

"Remarkably so, brother! however, though not born on the same
common with my wife, she knows a thing or two of Roman matters."

"I should like to ask her a question or two, Jasper, in connection
with that song."

"You can do no better, brother. Here we are at the camp. After
tea, take Ursula under a hedge, and ask her a question or two in
connection with that song."

CHAPTER X

Sunday Evening--Ursula--Action at Law--Meridiana--Married Already.

I took tea that evening with Mr. and Mrs. Petulengro and Ursula,
outside of their tent. Tawno was not present, being engaged with
his wife in his own tabernacle; Sylvester was there, however,
lolling listlessly upon the ground. As I looked upon this man, I
thought him one of the most disagreeable fellows I had ever seen.
His features were ugly, and, moreover, as dark as pepper; and,
besides being dark, his skin was dirty. As for his dress, it was
torn and sordid. His chest was broad, and his arms seemed
powerful; but, upon the whole, he looked a very caitiff. "I am
sorry that man has lost his wife," thought I; "for I am sure he
will never get another." What surprises me is, that he ever found
a woman disposed to unite her lot with his!

After tea I got up and strolled about the field. My thoughts were
upon Isopel Berners. I wondered where she was, and how long she
would stay away. At length becoming tired and listless, I
determined to return to the dingle, and resume the reading of the
Bible at the place where I had left off. "What better could I do,"
methought, "on a Sunday evening?" I was then near the wood which
surrounded the dingle, but at that side which was farthest from the
encampment, which stood near the entrance. Suddenly, on turning
round the southern corner of the copse, which surrounded the
dingle, I perceived Ursula seated under a thornbush. I thought I
never saw her look prettier than then, dressed as she was, in her
Sunday's best.

"Good evening, Ursula," said I; "I little thought to have the
pleasure of seeing you here."

"Nor would you, brother," said Ursula, "had not Jasper told me that
you had been talking about me, and wanted to speak to me under a
hedge; so, hearing that, I watched your motions, and came here and
sat down."

"I was thinking of going to my quarters in the dingle, to read the
Bible, Ursula, but--"

"Oh, pray then, go to your quarters, brother, and read the
Miduveleskoe lil; you can speak to me under a hedge some other
time."

"I think I will sit down with you, Ursula; for, after all, reading
godly books in dingles at eve, is rather sombre work. Yes, I think
I will sit down with you;" and I sat down by her side.

"Well, brother, now you have sat down with me under the hedge, what
have you to say to me?"

"Why, I hardly know, Ursula."

"Not know, brother; a pretty fellow you to ask young women to come
and sit with you under hedges, and, when they come, not know what
to say to them."

"Oh! ah! I remember; do you know, Ursula, that I take a great
interest in you?"

"Thank ye, brother; kind of you, at any rate."

"You must be exposed to a great many temptations, Ursula."

"A great many indeed, brother. It is hard, to see fine things,
such as shawls, gold watches, and chains in the shops, behind the
big glasses, and to know that they are not intended for one.
Many's the time I have been tempted to make a dash at them; but I
bethought myself that by so doing I should cut my hands, besides
being almost certain of being grabbed and sent across the gull's
bath to the foreign country."

"Then you think gold and fine things temptations, Ursula?"

"Of course, brother, very great temptations; don't you think them
so?"

"Can't say I do, Ursula."

"Then more fool you, brother; but have the kindness to tell me what
you would call a temptation?"

"Why, for example, the hope of honour and renown, Ursula."

"The hope of honour and renown! very good, brother; but I tell you
one thing, that unless you have money in your pocket, and good
broad-cloth on your back, you are not likely to obtain much honour
and--what do you call it? amongst the gorgios, to say nothing of
the Romany chals."

"I should have thought, Ursula, that the Romany chals, roaming
about the world as they do, free and independent, were above being
led by such trifles."

"Then you know nothing of the gypsies, brother; no people on earth
are fonder of those trifles, as you call them, than the Romany
chals, and more disposed to respect those who have them."

"Then money and fine clothes would induce you to do anything,
Ursula?"

"Ay, ay, brother, anything."

"To chore, Ursula?"

"Like enough, brother; gypsies have been transported before now for
choring."

"To hokkawar?"

"Ay, ay; I was telling dukkerin only yesterday, brother."

"In fact, to break the law in everything?"

"Who knows, brother, who knows? as I said before, gold and fine
clothes are great temptations."

"Well, Ursula, I am sorry for it, I should never have thought you
so depraved."

"Indeed, brother."

"To think that I am seated by one who is willing to--to--"

"Go on, brother."

"To play the thief."

"Go on, brother."

"The liar."

"Go on, brother."

"The--the--"

"Go on, brother."

"The--the lubbeny."

"The what, brother?" said Ursula, starting from her seat.

"Why, the lubbeny; don't you--"

"I tell you what, brother," said Ursula, looking somewhat pale, and
speaking very low, "if I had only something in my hand, I would do
you a mischief."

"Why, what is the matter, Ursula?" said I; "how have I offended
you?"

"How have you offended me? Why, didn't you insinivate just now
that I was ready to play the--the--"

"Go on, Ursula."

"The--the--I'll not say it; but I only wish I had something in my
hand."

"If I have offended, Ursula, I am very sorry for it; any offence I
may have given you was from want of understanding you. Come, pray
be seated, I have much to question you about--to talk to you
about."

"Seated, not I! It was only just now that you gave me to
understand that you was ashamed to be seated by me, a thief, a
liar."

"Well, did you not almost give me to understand that you were both,
Ursula?"

"I don't much care being called a thief and a liar," said Ursula;
"a person may be a liar and thief, and yet a very honest woman,
but--"

"Well, Ursula."

"I tell you what, brother, if you ever sinivate again that I could
be the third thing, so help me duvel! I'll do you a mischief. By
my God I will!"

"Well, Ursula, I assure you that I shall sinivate, as you call it,
nothing of the kind about you. I have no doubt, from what you have
said, that you are a very paragon of virtue--a perfect Lucretia;
but--"

"My name is Ursula, brother, and not Lucretia: Lucretia is not of
our family, but one of the Bucklands; she travels about
Oxfordshire; yet I am as good as she any day."

"Lucretia; how odd! Where could she have got that name? Well, I
make no doubt, Ursula, that you are quite as good as she, and she
as her namesake of ancient Rome; but there is a mystery in this
same virtue, Ursula, which I cannot fathom; how a thief and a liar
should be able, or indeed willing, to preserve her virtue is what I
don't understand. You confess that you are very fond of gold.
Now, how is it that you don't barter your virtue for gold
sometimes? I am a philosopher, Ursula, and like to know
everything. You must be every now and then exposed to great
temptation, Ursula; for you are of a beauty calculated to captivate
all hearts. Come, sit down and tell me how you are enabled to
resist such a temptation as gold and fine clothes?"

"Well, brother," said Ursula, "as you say you mean no harm, I will
sit down beside you, and enter into discourse with you; but I will
uphold that you are the coolest hand that I ever came nigh, and say
the coolest things."

And thereupon Ursula sat down by my side.

"Well, Ursula, we will, if you please, discourse on the subject of
your temptations. I suppose that you travel very much about, and
show yourself in all kinds of places?"

"In all kinds, brother; I travels, as you say, very much about,
attends fairs and races, and enters booths and public-houses, where
I tells fortunes, and sometimes dances and sings."

"And do not people often address you in a very free manner?"

"Frequently, brother; and I give them tolerably free answers."

"Do people ever offer to make you presents? I mean presents of
value, such as--"

"Silk handkerchiefs, shawls, and trinkets; very frequently,
brother."

"And what do you do, Ursula?"

"I takes what people offers me, brother, and stows it away as soon
as I can."

"Well, but don't people expect something for their presents? I
don't mean dukkerin, dancing, and the like; but such a moderate and
innocent thing as a choomer, Ursula?"

"Innocent thing, do you call it, brother?"

"The world calls it so, Ursula. Well, do the people who give you
the fine things never expect a choomer in return?"

"Very frequently, brother."

"And do you ever grant it?"

"Never, brother."

"How do you avoid it?"

"I gets away as soon as possible, brother. If they follows me, I
tries to baffle them, by means of jests and laughter; and if they
persist, I uses bad and terrible language, of which I have plenty
in store."

"But if your terrible language has no effect?"

"Then I screams for the constable, and if he comes not, I uses my
teeth and nails."

"And are they always sufficient?"

"I have only had to use them twice, brother; but then I found them
sufficient."

"But suppose the person who followed you was highly agreeable,
Ursula? A handsome young officer of local militia, for example,
all dressed in Lincoln green, would you still refuse him the
choomer?"

"We makes no difference, brother; the daughters of the gypsy-father
makes no difference; and what's more, sees none."

"Well, Ursula, the world will hardly give you credit for such
indifference."

"What cares we for the world, brother! we are not of the world."

"But your fathers, brothers, and uncles, give you credit, I
suppose, Ursula."

"Ay, ay, brother, our fathers, brothers, and cokos gives us all
manner of credit; for example, I am telling lies and dukkerin in a
public-house where my batu or coko--perhaps both--are playing on
the fiddle; well, my batu and my coko beholds me amongst the
public-house crew, talking nonsense and hearing nonsense; but they
are under no apprehension; and presently they sees the good-looking
officer of militia, in his greens and Lincolns, get up and give me
a wink, and I go out with him abroad, into the dark night perhaps;
well, my batu and my coko goes on fiddling just as if I were six
miles off asleep in the tent, and not out in the dark street with
the local officer, with his Lincolns and his greens."

"They know they can trust you, Ursula?"

"Ay, ay, brother; and, what's more, I knows I can trust myself."

"So you would merely go out to make a fool of him, Ursula?"

"Merely go out to make a fool of him, brother, I assure you."

"But such proceedings really have an odd look, Ursula."

"Amongst gorgios, very so, brother."

"Well, it must be rather unpleasant to lose one's character even
amongst gorgios, Ursula; and suppose the officer, out of revenge
for being tricked and duped by you, were to say of you the thing
that is not, were to meet you on the race-course the next day, and
boast of receiving favours which he never had, amidst a knot of
jeering militia-men, how would you proceed, Ursula? would you not
be abashed?"

"By no means, brother; I should bring my action of law against
him."

"Your action at law, Ursula?"

"Yes, brother, I should give a whistle, whereupon all one's cokos
and batus, and all my near and distant relations, would leave their
fiddling, dukkerin, and horse-dealing, and come flocking about me.
'What's the matter, Ursula?' says my coko. 'Nothing at all,' I
replies, 'save and except that gorgio, in his greens and his
Lincolns, says that I have played the--with him.' 'Oho, he does,
Ursula,' says my coko, 'try your action of law against him, my
lamb,' and he puts something privily into my hands; whereupon I
goes close up to the grinning gorgio, and staring him in the face,
with my head pushed forward, I cries out: 'You say I did what was
wrong with you last night when I was out with you abroad?' 'Yes,'
says the local officer, 'I says you did,' looking down all the
time. 'You are a liar,' says I, and forthwith I breaks his head
with the stick which I holds behind me, and which my coko has
conveyed privily into my hand."

"And this is your action at law, Ursula?"

"Yes, brother, this is my action at club-law."

"And would your breaking the fellow's head quite clear you of all
suspicion in the eyes of your batus, cokos, and what not?"

"They would never suspect me at all, brother, because they would
know that I would never condescend to be over-intimate with a
gorgio; the breaking the head would be merely intended to justify
Ursula in the eyes of the gorgios."

"And would it clear you in their eyes?"

"Would it not, brother? when they saw the blood running down from
the fellow's cracked poll on his greens and Lincolns, they would be
quite satisfied; why, the fellow would not be able to show his face
at fair or merry-making for a year and three-quarters."

"Did you ever try it, Ursula?"

"Can't say I ever did, brother, but it would do."

"And how did you ever learn such a method of proceeding?"

"Why, 't is advised by gypsy liri, brother. It's part of our way
of settling difficulties amongst ourselves; for example, if a young
Roman were to say the thing which is not respecting Ursula and
himself, Ursula would call a great meeting of the people, who would
all sit down in a ring, the young fellow amongst them; a coko would
then put a stick in Ursula's hand, who would then get up and go to
the young fellow, and say, 'Did I play the--with you?' and were he
to say 'Yes,' she would crack his head before the eyes of all."

"Well," said I, "Ursula, I was bred an apprentice to gorgio law,
and of course ought to stand up for it, whenever I conscientiously
can, but I must say the gypsy manner of bringing an action for
defamation is much less tedious, and far more satisfactory, than
the gorgiko one. I wish you now to clear up a certain point which
is rather mysterious to me. You say that for a Romany chi to do
what is unseemly with a gorgio is quite out of the question, yet
only the other day I heard you singing a song in which a Romany chi
confesses herself to be cambri by a grand gorgious gentleman."

"A sad let down," said Ursula.

"Well," said I, "sad or not, there's the song that speaks of the
thing, which you give me to understand is not."

"Well, if the thing ever was," said Ursula, "it was a long time
ago, and perhaps, after all, not true."

"Then why do you sing the song?"

"I'll tell you, brother, we sings the song now and then to be a
warning to ourselves to have as little to do as possible in the way
of acquaintance with the gorgios; and a warning it is; you see how
the young woman in the song was driven out of her tent by her
mother, with all kind of disgrace and bad language; but you don't
know that she was afterwards buried alive by her cokos and pals, in
an uninhabited place; the song doesn't say it, but the story says
it, for there is a story about it, though, as I said before, it was
a long time ago, and perhaps, after all, wasn't true."

"But if such a thing were to happen at present, would the cokos and
pals bury the girl alive?"

"I can't say what they would do," said Ursula; "I suppose they are
not so strict as they were long ago; at any rate, she would be
driven from the tan, and avoided by all her family and relations as
a gorgio's acquaintance; so that, perhaps, at last, she would be
glad if they would bury her alive."

"Well, I can conceive that there would be an objection on the part
of the cokos and batus that a Romany chi should form an improper
acquaintance with a gorgio, but I should think that the batus and
cokos could hardly object to the chi's entering into the honourable
estate of wedlock with a gorgio."

Ursula was silent.

"Marriage is an honourable estate, Ursula."

"Well, brother, suppose it be?"

"I don't see why a Romany chi should object to enter into the
honourable estate of wedlock with a gorgio."

"You don't, brother; don't you?"

"No," said I; "and, moreover, I am aware, notwithstanding your
evasion, Ursula, that marriages and connections now and then occur
between gorgios and Romany chies; the result of which is the mixed
breed, called half and half, which is at present travelling about
England, and to which the Flaming Tinman belongs, otherwise called
Anselo Herne."

"As for the half and halfs," said Ursula, "they are a bad set; and
there is not a worse blackguard in England than Anselo Herne."

"All that you say may be very true, Ursula, but you admit that
there are half and halfs."

"The more's the pity, brother."

"Pity, or not, you admit the fact; but how do you account for it?"

"How do I account for it? why, I will tell you, by the break up of
a Roman family, brother--the father of a small family dies, and,
perhaps, the mother; and the poor children are left behind;
sometimes, they are gathered up by their relations, and sometimes,
if they have none, by charitable Romans, who bring them up in the
observance of gypsy law; but sometimes they are not so lucky, and
falls into the company of gorgios, trampers, and basket-makers, who
live in caravans, with whom they take up, and so--I hate to talk of
the matter, brother; but so comes this race of the half and halfs."

"Then you mean to say, Ursula, that no Romany chi, unless compelled
by hard necessity, would have anything to do with a gorgio?"

"We are not over-fond of gorgios, brother, and we hates basket-
makers, and folks that live in caravans."

"Well," said I, "suppose a gorgio who is not a basket-maker, a
fine, handsome gorgious gentleman, who lives in a fine house--"

"We are not fond of houses, brother; I never slept in a house in my
life."

"But would not plenty of money induce you?"

"I hate houses, brother, and those who live in them."

"Well, suppose such a person were willing to resign his fine house;
and, for love of you, to adopt gypsy law, speak Romany, and live in
a tan, would you have nothing to say to him?"

"Bringing plenty of money with him, brother?"

"Well, bringing plenty of money with him, Ursula."

"Well, brother, suppose you produce your man; where is he?"

"I was merely supposing such a person, Ursula."

"Then you don't know of such a person, brother?"

"Why, no, Ursula; why do you ask?"

"Because, brother, I was almost beginning to think that you meant
yourself."

"Myself! Ursula; I have no fine house to resign; nor have I money.
Moreover, Ursula, though I have a great regard for you, and though
I consider you very handsome, quite as handsome, indeed, as
Meridiana in--"

"Meridiana! where did you meet with her?" said Ursula, with a toss
of her head.

"Why, in old Pulci's--"

"At old Fulcher's! that's not true, brother. Meridiana is a
Borzlam, and travels with her own people, and not with old Fulcher,
who is a gorgio, and a basket-maker."

"I was not speaking of old Fulcher, but Pulci, a great Italian
writer, who lived many hundred years ago, and who, in his poem
called 'Morgante Maggiore,' speaks of Meridiana, the daughter of--"

"Old Carus Borzlam," said Ursula; "but if the fellow you mention
lived so many hundred years ago, how, in the name of wonder, could
he know anything of Meridiana?"

"The wonder, Ursula, is, how your people could ever have got hold
of that name, and similar ones. The Meridiana of Pulci was not the
daughter of old Carus Borzlam, but of Caradoro, a great pagan king
of the East, who, being besieged in his capital by Manfredonio,
another mighty pagan king, who wished to obtain possession of his
daughter, who had refused him, was relieved in his distress by
certain paladins of Charlemagne, with one of whom, Oliver, his
daughter Meridiana fell in love."

"I see," said, Ursula, "that it must have been altogether a
different person, for I am sure that Meridiana Borzlam would never
have fallen in love with Oliver. Oliver! why, that is the name of
the curo-mengro, who lost the fight near the chong gav, the day of
the great tempest, when I got wet through. No, no! Meridiana
Borzlam would never have so far forgot her blood as to take up with
Tom Oliver."

"I was not talking of that Oliver, Ursula, but of Oliver, peer of
France, and paladin of Charlemagne, with whom Meridiana, daughter
of Caradoro, fell in love, and for whose sake she renounced her
religion and became a Christian, and finally ingravidata, or
cambri, by him:-

'E nacquene un figliuol, dice la storia,
Che dette a Carlo-man poi gran vittoria;'

which means--"

"I don't want to know what it means," said Ursula; "no good, I'm
sure. Well, if the Meridiana of Charles's wain's pal was no
handsomer than Meridiana Borzlam, she was no great catch, brother;
for though I am by no means given to vanity, I think myself better
to look at than she, though I will say she is no lubbeny, and would
scorn--"

"I make no doubt she would, Ursula, and I make no doubt that you
are much handsomer than she, or even the Meridiana of Oliver. What
I was about to say, before you interrupted me, is this, that though
I have a great regard for you, and highly admire you, it is only in
a brotherly way, and--"

"And you had nothing better to say to me," said Ursula, "when you
wanted to talk to me beneath a hedge, than that you liked me in a
brotherly way I well, I declare--"

"You seem disappointed, Ursula."

"Disappointed, brother! not I."

"You were just now saying that you disliked gorgios, so, of course,
could only wish that I, who am a gorgio, should like you in a
brotherly way: I wished to have a conversation with you beneath a
hedge, but only with the view of procuring from you some
information respecting the song which you sung the other day, and
the conduct of Roman females, which has always struck me as being
highly unaccountable; so, if you thought anything else--"

"What else should I expect from a picker-up of old words, brother?
Bah! I dislike a picker-up of old words worse than a picker-up of
old rags."

"Don't be angry, Ursula, I feel a great interest in you; you are
very handsome, and very clever; indeed, with your beauty and
cleverness, I only wonder that you have not long since been
married."

"You do, do you, brother?"

"Yes. However, keep up your spirits, Ursula, you are not much past
the prime of youth, so--"

"Not much past the prime of youth! Don't be uncivil, brother, I
was only twenty-two last month."

"Don't be offended, Ursula, but twenty-two is twenty-two, or, I
should rather say, that twenty-two in a woman is more than twenty-
six in a man. You are still very beautiful, but I advise you to
accept the first offer that's made to you."

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