At times, when business was slack, I entered lengthily into conversation with him as to what had been the cause of his getting into such a degrading position.
I learned from him that both he and his wife had received a good education. The man by trade was a carpenter, and the woman a dressmaker; but in an evil hour, instead of trusting to their own abilities, work, and common sense, they had taken the wrong turning, and from that time to the present they had been going down hill, and they could not tell how. All they seemed to realize was that they thought they were nearly at the bottom. Both have relations well off in the world; and both have the respect for their family not to disgrace it by vaunting their condition before the world, and making it known to their friends—only to a privileged few—the disgraceful social condition to which they had brought themselves. It is something heartrending, past description, to see a good tradesman and his dressmaking wife fooling their time away in idleness, wickedness, and sin, tramping the country, gambling with cocoa-nuts, living in vans, eating garbage, and trafficking in poor worn-out old horses and donkeys.
I found in further conversation with this unfortunate couple that gipsies have invented fresh machinations to kill farmers’ pigs, viz., to take the inside of an apple out and fill it with mustard; and as the women or children are going up to the farm-houses some of the apples stuffed with mustard are thrown among the pigs—pigs are fond of apples—and the consequence is the large quantity of mustard in the apple suffocates the pigs, and nobody, except the gipsies, know how it has been done. Some other members of the gang will visit the farm-house during the next day or two, under the pretext of buying up old dead carcases, out of which to render all the fat to make cart grease. The farmer replies, “Oh yes, we had a pig,”—or a cow, as the case may be—“died yesterday. You can have that for five shillings if you like to dig it. You will find it in the meadow next to the piggery.” “All right, guvernor, here’s the money.” Of course the gipsies fetch it, and it forms a relish for them for a long time. I have known of cases where the pig has been buried for five days, being unearthed, and turned into food for the big and little gipsies.
Mr. T— also told me how cows, calves, and bullocks are treated by the gipsies—the consequence is they are found dead the next morning in the fields—viz., two or three of the men will take a handful of hay and a rope, and when they have caught the cow, they will make it secure, and then the hay is forced into its throat, and a rope tied and twisted tightly round its mouth. When suffocation has completed its work, the hay is drawn out of its throat, and the nostrils are wiped clean. The gipsies then set off to their camp again. In a couple of days or so, according to a pre-arranged plan, some of the gang call upon the farmers to buy any dead cattle or pigs they may have to sell, and the result is, as in the case of the pigs suffocated with the mustard in the apples, the cow, calf, or bullock is taken to their tents or vans, perhaps a few miles away, and divided among the gipsies.
Some of the gipsies get a living by selling cart grease, which they say is pure fat, but which in reality is made up principally of potatoes, yellow turnips, and grease.
The gipsies have found out that “shot” is not so good to cure a broken-winded horse for one day only, as butter or lard—butter is preferable. The way they do it is to let the horse fast overnight, and then early next morning force a pound of butter down its throat. To cure a “roarer” a pint of oil is given overnight upon an empty stomach.
The earnings of cocoa-nut gamblers and others of the same class vary very much. Mr. T— told me that he and his wife went upon Northampton racecourse last races with only five shillings in their pockets, with which they bought some acids, juices, and scents; these, with plenty of water, they turned into “pine-apple champagne,” and the result was they made five pounds profit, and plenty to eat and drink, with a “jollification” into the bargain, the whole of which was spent in a fortnight, and they had to commence again, sadder but no wiser.
It is an error to say that gipsies do not rob each other; some of them have told me that they have been robbed fearfully by other gipsies, sometimes of as many as a hundred cocoa-nuts at a time.
While our conversation was going on some silly beings were knocking their heads against a boss, for which honour they paid their pennies. What a satire upon the fair, I thought. Thousands were running their heads against bosses more deadly in effect than the spring bosses at which they ran like fighting rams. I was not much afraid of the heads of the bossers giving way, my only fear was for their necks.
Behind me there was to be seen another crowd shooting at glass bottles in the air. These might be said to be “windy customers,” and as a rule they were full of “gas,” bombast, thin and showy; while those who faced the “boss” were thick-necked, with plenty of animalism about them, and ready for a row.