But it is not to be supposed that the whole of the Gypsy females at Moscow are of this high and talented description; the majority of them are of far lower quality, and obtain their livelihood by singing and dancing at taverns, whilst their husbands in general follow the occupation of horse-dealing.
Their favourite place of resort in the summer time is Marina Rotze, a species of sylvan garden about two versts from Moscow, and thither, tempted by curiosity, I drove one fine evening. On my arrival the Zigánas came flocking out from their little tents, and from the tractir or inn which has been erected for the accommodation of the public. Standing on the seat of the calash, I addressed them in a loud voice in the English dialect of the Rommany, of which I have some knowledge. A shrill scream of wonder was instantly raised, and welcomes and blessings were poured forth in floods of musical Rommany, above all of which predominated the cry of Kak camenna tute prala—or, How we love you, brother!—for at first they mistook me for one of their wandering brethren from the distant lands, come over the great panee or ocean to visit them.
After some conversation they commenced singing, and favoured me with many songs, both in Russian and Rommany: the former were modern popular pieces, such as are accustomed to be sung on the boards of the theatre; but the latter were evidently of great antiquity, exhibiting the strongest marks of originality, the metaphors bold and sublime, and the metre differing from anything of the kind which it has been my fortune to observe in Oriental or European prosody.
One of the most remarkable, and which commences thus:
‘Za mateia rosherroro odolata
Bravintata,’
(or, Her head is aching with grief, as if she had tasted wine) describes the anguish of a maiden separated from her lover, and who calls for her steed:
‘Tedjav manga gurraoro’—
that she may depart in quest of the lord of her bosom, and share his joys and pleasures.
A collection of these songs, with a translation and vocabulary, would be no slight accession to literature, and would probably throw more light on the history of this race than anything which has yet appeared; and, as there is no want of zeal and talent in Russia amongst the cultivators of every branch of literature, and especially philology, it is only surprising that such a collection still remains a desideratum.
The religion which these singular females externally professed was the Greek, and they mostly wore crosses of copper or gold; but when I questioned them on this subject in their native language, they laughed, and said it was only to please the Russians. Their names for God and his adversary are Deval and Bengel, which differ little from the Spanish Un-debel and Bengi, which signify the same. I will now say something of