While yet early, all around is chatter and merriment and the children amuse themselves as best they may while their parents are at work. When picking is in progress in the Hampshire hop gardens, one sees baskets used in preference to the bin, and many a meaning glance and fateful word pass from chal to chi and from chi to chal over these baskets, for love-making with gypsies is usually carried on openly, often with the prospective father-and mother-in-law at work on either side and occasionally taking part in the conversation. If a loving couple chance to be working near a “home-dweller” they may converse in Romany, feeling pretty certain that the home-dweller will not really understand anything they may say. Although the gypsy tongue is deficient to some extent in such terms of endearment as are beloved of the gorgio, Romanies have recourse to idioms which are often more expressive to those who are conversant with the language than gorgico jib, or the speech of the Gentiles.
While fully recognizing the camaraderie existing among Romany people, an intimate acquaintance with them cannot fail to discover sets or coteries which seem to be formed on bases of relationship or social standing; indeed, one may at times find it somewhat difficult to realize that he is concerned with gypsy society, rather than that spelt with a capital S, which in every matter pertaining to this life or the next bows low unto and obeys the commands of Mrs. Grundy.
When making inquiries of one family concerning another, I have more than once received replies, of which the following is an example:—
“Oh yes, we knows ’em very well, but we don’t have nothing to do with ’em; here, Jobey, you go with the Rye and show him where the—— ’s tent is.”
There are gypsies of my acquaintance who own land and expensive living wagons, and have the best of everything,—undoubtedly they work hard but have a good time generally. These, be it understood, are not “show” folk, but Tachey Romanies, whose skins are as dark as may be seen, and who upon marriage would spend a sum of three figures upon their wedding van. I know others whose entire worldly possessions would probably not fetch half a sovereign at a jumble sale. One fellow told a friend of mine that he got married on sixpence, but added as a kind of mitigation of his rashness, that he had a tent. Yet, among them all—rich, poor, richest and poorest alike, there is that splendid and pervading spirit of sympathy, amounting to a compelling desire to share to the last penny with those whose need is greater than their own. One of them once said to me—
“Pal, you know the gypsy law—if I have a loaf of bread and you are in need, half of that loaf is yours; and you, being a tatcho pal and a Romany mush, I know you’d do the same. If neither of us had anything,” he continued, “we’d go halves in that as well.”
“Auvali, auvali” (yes, yes), I replied, smiling at his curious manner of expression, albeit the following passages flitted just then through my mind—
... “Which of these thinkest thou was neighbour?”
... “Neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.”