Whence come such names as Khulai, Maireni, Malini, Mori, Shuri? In these names Sir Richard Temple discerns Indian forms or terminations. The Anglo-Romany names, Fenela, Siari, and Trenit, have been identified by Mr. H. T. Crofton with the Continental forms, Vennel, Cihari, and Tranitza, the last being a common feminine Gypsy name in Hungary.
Euphonious and out-of-the-way names are irresistible to the Gypsy.
“What metal is that box made of, sir?” asked a Gypsy mother on seeing a gentleman’s cigarette-case.
“Aluminium,” was the reply.
“What a beautiful name for my gell’s baby!”
According to Charles G. Leland, a Gypsy father, hearing two gentlemen talking about Mount Vesuvius, was greatly impressed by the name, and consulted with them as to the propriety of giving it to his little boy.
Gypsies dislike to be addressed by their peculiar “fore” or Christian names in the presence of gawjê; hence to the postman, Ènos become Amos, Fèmi—Amy, and Poley—George, and so on. As a rule, you find a Gypsy is unwilling to impart his true name to a stranger. May not this reluctance be due to a lingering subconscious belief that the possession of one’s true name would enable a stranger to work harmful spells upon the owner?
Time was when the belief was widely spread that the utterance of a man’s true name drew him to the speaker. Medieval records are full of legendary accounts of spirits who were summoned by the casual pronunciation of their names. Until lately there were peasants in the North of Ireland and Arran who absolutely refused to tell their names to a stranger because such knowledge, it was believed, would enable him to “call” them, no matter how far he was from them, and whenever he cared to do so. They also believed that any spell worked on the written name would have the same effect as if worked on the owner.
It is a fact that not a few Gypsy surnames are identical with those of ancient noble families, e.g. Boswell, or Bosville (sometimes contracted to Boss), Gray, Heron, Hearne, or Herne, Lees, Lovells, and Stanleys. It has been surmised, by way of explanation, that the Gypsies soon after their arrival in this country adopted the surnames of the owners of the estates on which particular hordes usually encamped, or the names of those landed families who afforded protection to the persecuted wanderers.
Speaking of the Gypsies, Gilbert White of Selborne, says, “One of these tribes calls itself by the noble name of Stanley.” This mention of the Stanleys reminds me that once on Gonerby Hill, near Grantham, on the Great North Road, I met a young man who looked like a mechanic out of work, yet his bearing was that of a Gypsy. In our talk he admitted that he was of Romany blood. He had been a horseman in Lord George Sanger’s circus, but something had gone wrong and he was thrown out of employ. At first he gave his name as Richardson (not a Gypsy name), but he afterwards told me that his grandfather, a Stanley, had been transported, for which reason the family assumed the name of Richardson.