I have previously had occasion to refer to the direct searching gaze of the gypsy, that look which makes even an unimaginative Gentile feel as though he were being turned inside out for inspection. In a fashion, this is really the case, for the piercing eyes play a principal part in their owner’s rapid estimate of a new-comer; if his decision be that the stranger possesses neither consanguinity nor sympathy with his own race, but is essentially a gorgio, I know of nothing that will induce the gypsy to impart correct information about his people or their language,—on the other hand, should he discover some trace of blood relationship and be assured of fellow-feeling, he will extend the right hand of fellowship to the whilom stranger, and a mutual knowledge of the Romany tongue will, as it were, endorse a bond of lasting friendship, the no-longer stranger will be introduced to, and accepted by the relatives and friends as a tatcho pal.
“WHEN THE HEART IS YOUNG.”
In returning to our consideration of the gypsy language it will not, we think, be difficult to realize that, to a great extent, it is this aloofness and the clinging to old traditions, tribal laws and customs, that has not only enabled them to discredit prophecies of extinction, but has kept them very much alive, with a language little known by outsiders, and an unshaken belief in their assertion that gypsies, their language and manner of life will never die out. It is at least certain that the genuine Romanies do all possible among themselves to keep their own language in vigorous health, and although many are illiterate they seize every opportunity to recover lost words, and by constant repetition commit them to memory.
Notwithstanding the admixture of English with the Romany, it is astonishing how little the tongue has altered in the centuries during which it has been spoken and passed on from one generation to another in this country mainly by word of mouth. Occasionally, however, one may hear slight variations, which, upon investigation, resolve into the exact words, or a close resemblance to words having the same meaning in one or other of the dialects of Romany of the European continent; instances of this I recall as I write:—
I once heard a child talking to the cat, which he always called a “matchiko,” instead of the English gypsy word, “matchko.”
One man always addressed me as “mini Rye,” instead of the usual “miro Rye.” In these cases “matchiko” is the identical word, while “mini” reminds one of “minrio,” both words being in a continental dialect, but having the meaning intended by the English users.
The following examples, being set down verbatim as addressed to, or heard by me, will give a good idea of colloquial Romany of the present day:—
“Miro dado jalled to buty adrey a wongar mine, ta his pals del’d dado oprey the nok and poggered it; if he hadn’t jalled apré he’d have been mullo.”