The poorest gypsies share this fatuous idea with our “old nobility” who have faith in mascots in the shape of a grotesque figure for the radiator of their motor-car, or some strange object carried or worn on the person, and the superstitious of all ranks of society who carry “charms” on their watch-chains, “lucky” pigs, wish-bones, stones, elephants, dogs, monkeys and what not on chatelaines or elsewhere about themselves or their belongings. A well-to-do person may wear a silver or gold charm studded with diamonds, while the poor person carries instead, a piece of coral, a bit of bone, portion of a bat, brass ornaments or anything beside—any one being just as likely to bring good luck, or as potent in warding off evils, as the other—chacun à son goût.
The Romanichal, like many another, is superstitious but does not advertise the fact. Chary of confessing to a belief in the efficacy of charms, sometimes even to the extent of untruthfully denying it, his attitude renders it somewhat difficult to estimate the extent to which such beliefs obtain among the people, and it is only when living in their midst and enjoying their fullest confidence that one is able to obtain reliable information on the matter. Even under the most favourable conditions it is not easy to ascertain whether this or that belief is distinctly gypsy and of Eastern origin, or has been appropriated from one or other of the Western nations. In any case it is not more ridiculous for an illiterate gypsy to consider the wearing of a mole’s foot a safeguard against rheumatism, or that a brass brooch or other ornament in the form of a human hand will bring good luck to the wearer, than for an educated man of good position to decorate his motor-car with a “Teddy bear” or a “gollywog,” believing all the while that it will obviate skidding, or will carry him scathless through a collision. Again, I have yet to discover among the tales of the Romanies something as senseless as the non-gypsy stories of The Devil’s Dyke near Brighton, and of the miraculous beam in the Priory church of Christ-church, or the rustic belief that the immature forms of the fungus Phallus impudicus are really eggs laid by ghosts.
I found that the Petulengro couple were not exceptions to the rule that gypsies are well versed in a crude plant lore, including preparations of or from wayside and other vegetation, and their use in curing simple ailments. There can be no doubt whatever that many common complaints yield quite as readily to the vegetable drugs and simple treatment of gypsies, as to the mineral productions of the chemist. Gypsy methods of making up their prescriptions may be rough and ready, but, provided they steer clear of the powerful alkaloids—and invariably they do—there is at least little to fear, especially if the patients have gypsy constitutions to begin with.
Eyebright, Euphrasia officinalis, is used by them for inflamed eyes—a decoction of the plant being made and the eyes fomented therewith.
Ground ivy, Nepeta glechoma, is also used for a like purpose. The lichen Sticta pulmonacea has been used by rustics as a specific in cases of consumption, but I have not known it to be used by gypsies, a fact which I think worth recording in their favour, for a decoction of this lichen is just about the nastiest-tasting “remedy” on earth. Being of an inquiring turn of mind I once made up some of this medicine, and for no reason but to gratify my curiosity, I sampled it—once. I have never since doubted its efficacy, as a consumptive or any other sufferer for whom it was prescribed would either recover immediately or would gladly die to avoid taking a second dose.
The mention of plants used for the preparation of eye lotions reminds me of a curious expression used by a half-bred gypsy. I was telling her of a lady who suffered a good deal with an inflamed eye; the gypsy advocated eyebright or ground ivy as a cure, “for you know,” said she, “you can’t be too careful with the eye, it’s such a precious limb.”
The gypsy faculty for using words of similar sound but of quite different signification from those intended, or of curious, home-made words, or inapplicable terms, is often productive of very whimsical statements, as the following extracts from my contemporary notes exemplify:—
... A gypsy, charged with using disgusting language in public, made a pathetic appeal to the magistrate against conviction for the offence as he was “certain sure he never used no unseen (obscene) language.”
... A gypsy girl, looking at a photograph in which the more distant figures in a group were somewhat indistinct, remarked “that she could hardly concern (discern) who it was standing there.”
... Upon mentioning the bombardment by the Germans of Rheims Cathedral to a gypsy, he expressed great indignation, and added, “that was a lovely church, I’ve seen a picture of it, it was all tattooed beautiful down the front.”