The English gypsies believe in witches, among their own people, and it is very remarkable that in such cases at least as I have heard of, they do not regard them as âmes damnées or special limbs of Satan, but rather as some kinds of exceptionally gifted sorceresses or magicians. They are, however, feared from their supposed power to make mischief. Such a witch may be known by her hair, which is straight for three or four inches and then begins to curl—like a waterfall which comes down smoothly and then rebounds roundly on the rocks. It may be here remarked that all this gypsy conception of the witch is distinctly Hindoo and not in the least European or of Christians, with whom she is simply a human devil utterly given over to the devil’s desires. And it is very remarkable that even the English gypsies do not associate such erring sisters—or any other kind—with the devil, as is done by their more cultivated associates.
The witch, in gypsy as in other lore, is a haunting terror of the night. It has not, that I am aware, ever been conjectured that the word Humbug is derived from the Norse hum, meaning night, or shadows (tenebræ) (Jonæo, “Icelandic Latin glossary in Niall’s Saga”), and bog, or bogey, termed in several old editions of the Bible a bug, or “bugges.” And as bogey came to mean a mere scarecrow, so the hum-bugges or nightly terrors became synonymes for feigned frights. “A humbug, a false alarm, a bug-bear” (“Dean Milles MS.” Halliwell). The fact that bug is specially applied to a nocturnal apparition, renders the reason for the addition of hum very evident.
There is a great deal that is curious in this word Bogey. Bug-a-boo is suggestive of the Slavonian Bog and Buh, both meaning God or a spirit. Boo or bo is a hobgoblin in Yorkshire, so called because it is said to be the first word which a ghost or one of his kind utters to a human being, to frighten him. Hence, “he cannot say bo to a goose.” Hence boggart, bogle, boggle, bo-guest, i.e., bar-geist, boll, boman, and, probably allied, bock (Devon), fear. Bull-beggar is probably a form of bu and bogey or boge, allied to boll (Northern), an apparition.
CHAPTER XI.
GYPSY WITCHCRAFT.—THE MAGICAL POWER WHICH IS INNATE IN ALL MEN AND WOMEN—HOW IT MAY BE CULTIVATED AND DEVELOPED—THE PRINCIPLES OF FORTUNE-TELLING.
Women excel in the manifestation of certain qualities which are associated with mystery and suggestive of occult influences or power. Perhaps the reader will pardon me if I devote a few pages to what I conceive to be, to a certain degree, an explanation of this magic; though, indeed, it may be justly said that in so doing we only pass the old boundary of “spiritual” sorcery to find ourselves in the wider wonderland of Science.
Whether it be the action of a faculty, a correlative action of physical functions, or a separate soul in us, the fact is indisputable that when our ordinary waking consciousness or will goes to sleep or rest, or even dozes, that instant an entirely different power takes command of the myriad forces of memory, and proceeds to make them act, wheel, evolute, and perform dramatic tricks, such as the Common Sense of our daily life would never admit. This power we call the Dream, but it is more than that. It can do more than make Us, or Me, or the Waking Will, believe that we are passing through fantastic scenes. It can remember or revive the memory of things forgotten by us; it can, when he is making no effort, solve for the geometrician problems which are far beyond his waking capacity—it sometimes teaches the musician airs such as he could not compose. That is to say, within ourself there dwells a more mysterious Me, in some respects a more gifted Self. There is not the least reason, in the present state of Science, to assume that this is either a “spiritual” being or an action of material forces. It puzzled Wigan as the dual action of the brain; and a great light is thrown on it by the “Physiology” of Carpenter and the “Memory” of David Kay (one of the most remarkable works of modern times), as well as in the “Psycho Therapeutics” of Dr. Tuckey.
This power, therefore, knows things hidden from Me, and can do what I cannot. Let no one incautiously exclaim here that what this really means is, that I possess higher accomplishments which I do not use. The power often actually acts against Me—it plays at fast and loose with me—it tries to deceive me, and when it finds that in dreams I have detected a blunder in the plot of the play which it is spinning, it brings the whole abruptly to an end with the convulsion of a nightmare, or by letting the curtain fall with a crash, and—scena est deserta—I am awake! And then “how the phantoms flee—how the dreams depart!” as Westwood writes. With what wonderful speed all is washed away clean from the blackboard! Our waking visions do not fly like this. But—be it noted, for it is positively true—the evanescence of our dreams is, in a vast majority of instances, exactly in proportion to their folly.