10. AN UNWRITTEN TONGUE.
Plumbers, and even politicians, think meanly of Gypsies. The Oxford English Dictionary, apparently regarding them as a species of vermin rather than a nation, denies them the barren honour which it awards to Gallovidians, and spells their name with a little g. As an old witch complained to Lavengro, some very respectable persons go so far as to “grudge the poor people the speech they talk among themselves,” and, like the magistrate, brand it “no language at all, merely a made-up gibberish.” Mrs. Herne very properly retorted, with an ironical curtsey: “Oh, bless your wisdom, you can tell us what our language is without understanding it”; for to learn to understand Romani is a far easier task than to trace it to its sources.
The central mystery of a mysterious race, it is their greatest treasure, whether, with Borrow, we regard it as a means “to enable habitual breakers of the law to carry on their consultations with more secrecy,” or share the enthusiasm of scholars who have found in it the most fascinating, yet most baffling, problem of linguistics. On the language of the Gypsies one of the greatest philologists wrote two volumes, containing more than a thousand closely-printed pages, although he confessed he had never heard it spoken; another devoted eight years to the gradual publication of a huge quarto which, when completed, weighed nearly a hundred ounces; and countless humbler contributors have added their stones to the cairn of learning under which Romani lies buried. All believed that in this unwritten tongue, the conversational currency of “the most unfortunate and degraded of beings,” lay hid answers to riddles which have perplexed the learned for five hundred years: Where was the original home of the Gypsies? When did they leave it? By what route did they reach Europe? But the hopes of scholars have been grievously disappointed, and at the end of a century of diligent gleaning and scientific analysis the mystery of Gypsy origin is as deep as it was at the beginning!
Far from being gibberish, Romani is an inflected language possessing more cases for its noun than did Latin; and it is Indian, although the Gypsies, true to their reputation, have begged words with which to supplement their vocabulary from Persians, Greeks, Slavs and other peoples among whom they have dwelt. It has been said that “the Arabic of the Bedouin in this century is incomparably more nearly identical with that of the tribes through whose borders the children of Israel were led by Moses than is any one of our contemporary European tongues with its ancestor of the same remote period.” A similar cause has enabled the Gypsies, ever wandering, separating and reuniting, to resist more successfully than a sedentary race could have resisted the gradual changes which ultimately part a language into mutually incomprehensible dialects. Their speech is an echo which has reverberated through the centuries, for in it may be heard ancient Indian forms that have been lost in India itself, and dearest of all to the philologist, though most perplexing, a number of words which are almost pure Sanskrit. But if you ask the linguistic student of the Roma whence they come, you will receive no reply more definite than a reference to north-west Hindustan and the inhospitable mountains thereabouts; while for the date of the Gypsy exodus you may choose at will any period between 300 B.C. and 1300 A.D. and find high philological authority for your choice.
To satisfy, or, better still, to stimulate curiosity about the language of the “Brahmins of the roads,” a short nursery story in the dialect of the coppersmiths is here reprinted from the pages of the Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society, by the kind permission of Mr. E. O. Winstedt, to whom it was dictated by one of Kola’s sons-in-law. Most of the consonants may, without serious error, be pronounced as in English, r being rolled as in “rural,” g hard as in “gas,” and s unvoiced as in “sago.” The symbol zh represents the French j or the z in English “azure,” while sh is the corresponding unvoiced sound in “ash”: with t prefixed the latter becomes tsh, the double sound heard twice in “church,” which would be written tshə(r)tsh. In Romani the letter h is often found after p, t and k, where, except in the mouths of Irish speakers, it is not used in English. Thus ph and th have not the values they have in “philosophy” and “theology,” nor kh (as in Oriental languages) that of the ch in Scottish “loch,” but the h must be sounded after the other consonant: p+h, t+h, and k+h. The vowels may be pronounced as in Italian, the additional vowel ə representing the vowels in English “but” and “cur,” and the diphthongs ai and au being similar to the sounds in “aisle” and “ounce.” The vowel in English “law” is written aw. For examples the following words may be taken:—
but (much) as “boot.”
hai (and) as “high.”
háide! (come!) as “high-day.”
kothé (there) as “coat-hay.”
le (take) as “lay.”
meklé (they allowed) as “make-lay.”
per (belly) as “pair.”
ye (even) as “yea.”
The acute accents indicate the stressed syllables and do not alter the quality of the vowels. They were not marked in the original, and are added here merely to assist readers and not as an accurate record of the coppersmiths’ method of accentuation.
O DÍLO HAI LÉSKE DÚI PHRALÁ.
Sas trin phral; dúi sa godiáver, thai yek dílo. Thai muló léngo dad. Thai phendiá léngo dad: “Zha per talé.” Káno vo meréla, te avél sáko phral kothé léste. Hai phendiá o phral o báro: “Zha tu, phrála dilíya, k’ amáro dad.” Liá o phral o dílo yek kash (bórta), hai thodéla po dúmo, hai geló ka pésko dad. Hai ushtiló lésko dad, hai diá les yek bal kálo. Káno vo tshinól les, ənklél ándo kódo bal yek gras kálo.
Hai phendiá o əmperáto, kon khodéla ka léski rákli ándo kher, ənkəsto, kodoléske déla. Thai phendiá o phral o báro: “Háide! phrála, te dikás kon khutéla ka i rákli.” Thai phendiás o dílo: “Meg me, phrále, te dikáu ye me kothé.” Hai mardé lə lésko phral; tshi meklé les. Thai liné le dúi phral le grastén, hai gelé-tar. Hai liás o phral o dílo o bal, hai kerdiló léske yek gras ándo bal, hai geló-tar. Aresliá péske do phralén, aresló palál; hai pushlé les: “Kon tu san, manushá?” Vo si mánush depel-méshti (vityáz). Hai mardé le zoralés péske phralén; hai geló-tar ka i rákli. Hai hukló ándo kher ka i rákli. Hai liás la rakliá péske; hai tshumidá les lésko sókro, le dilés.
Hai tradéla léskro sókro péske dúi zhamutrén (godiáver zhamutré) te mudarén tshirikliá. Hai aviló-tar o dílo ka pésko sókro əmperáto, thai phendiá o dílo te del les púshka te mudarél ye vo tshirikliá. Hai la o dílo phagliás e púshka, hai geló-tar péske dúye shogorénsa. Vo sas o tríto. Hai pirdé léske shogoré so (? kai) rodiás, hai tshi mudardé kántshi tshirikliá. Hai o dílo mudardiás le kashtésa but tshirikliá bi-pushkáko. Hai avilé léske shogoré, hai diklé le tshiriklián; hai den pe dúma: “O dílo mudardiás but tshirikliá, hai amé tshi mudardiám kantsh.” Hai mangén le tshiriklián kátar o dílo, te del le lénge. Hai phendiá o dílo: “Kána la te shináv tumáro práshhau (per) le shuriása, atúntshi dav túme le tshirikliá, hai phenáu k’ o əmperáto ke túme mudardián le tshirikliá.” Hai kána shindiá o práshau léngo, hai del lénge i tshirikliá, hai gelé-tar kheré.
Hai dikliás əmperáto le but tshiriklé, hai lovodíl pésko do zhamutrén. Hai pushél le dilés: “Tu tshi mu(da)rdán kantsh?” Hai phenél o dílo le əmperatóske: “Me kudalá tshirikliá me mudardém le. Tu man tshi patshiás? Me shindém le shuriása léngo práshau, tha dem lénge le tshirikliá.” Hai vasdás əmperáto léngo gad, hai dikliá léngo práshau. E tshiriklí si but láshi. Hai phendiás əmperáto ke léske zhamutré: “Díle mánush! sóste von meklé te shindiás léngro práshau?
Thai ma nai kantsh.
THE FOOL AND HIS TWO BROTHERS.
There were three brothers; two were wise, and one a fool. And their father died. Now their father said: “I am going to take to my bed.” When he dies, each brother is to come there to him. And the big brother said: “Do you go, foolish brother, to our father.” The foolish brother took a stick and put it on his shoulder, and went to his father. And his father got up, and gave him a black hair. Whenever he cuts it, there will come out of that hair a black horse.
Now the emperor said that whoever climbs up to his daughter in the house, on horseback, he will give her to that one. And the big-brother said: “Come along, brother, let us see who will climb up to the girl.” And the fool said: “Let me, brothers, see whether I, too, can get there.” And his brothers beat him; they did not let him. And the two brothers took the horses, and off they went. But the foolish brother took the hair, and there was made for him a horse from the hair, and off he went. He overtook his two brothers, he caught them up from behind; and they asked him: “Who are you, man?” He is a hero. And he beats them severely, his brothers; and off he went to the girl. And he climbed up into the house to the girl. And he took the girl for himself; and his father-in-law kissed him, the fool.
And his father-in-law sends his two sons-in-law (the wise sons-in-law) to kill birds. And the fool came to his father-in-law, the emperor, and the fool told him to give him a gun that he too may kill birds. And the fool broke the gun, and went off with his two brothers-in-law. He was the third. And his brothers-in-law walked about, whom he sought, and they did not kill any birds at all. But the fool killed many birds with the stick, without a gun. And his brothers-in-law came and saw the birds; and they say to themselves: “The fool has killed many birds, and we have killed none.” And they beg the birds from the fool, that he should give them to them. And the fool said: “When I cut your bellies with the knife, then will I give you the birds, and I will tell the emperor that you have killed the birds.” And when he has cut their bellies, he gives them the birds, and they went home.
And the emperor saw the many birds, and praises his two sons-in-law. And he asks the fool: “Have you killed none?” And the fool tells the emperor: “It was I who killed those birds. You do not believe me? I cut their bellies with the knife, and gave them the birds.” And the emperor pulled up their shirts, and looked at their bellies. The birds are very good. And the emperor said to his sons-in-law: “Silly fellows! why did they let him cut their bellies?”
I have no more.
THE END
Printed by Robert McGee & Co., Ltd., 34, South Castle Street, Liverpool.
NOTE.
Readers who may be sufficiently interested in these strange yet fascinating people to wish to make a closer study of them and their speech, are referred to the able articles published by Mr. E. O. Winstedt and the Rev. F. G. Ackerley in the Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society. Information about the work of this Society and the conditions of membership can be obtained by application to the Honorary Secretary, 21A, Alfred Street, Liverpool.
FOOTNOTES.
[v] It’s not been possible to reproduce the typography of the original. Instead the various groups have been split into separate tables, with the parents coming first, and the row underneath being their children, and the row underneath that the children of the children.—DP.
[vi] The author’s thanks are offered to the editors of The Bazaar, The Manchester Guardian, and The Birkenhead News, who have most kindly permitted him to reprint articles from their respective publications, as well as to Mr. Fred. Shaw, Mr. F. A. Cooper, the Central News and Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd., for leave to reproduce their admirable photographs.
[1] Manchester Guardian, Friday, August 30, 1912.
[7] Manchester Guardian, Thursday, June 20, 1912.
[13] Birkenhead News, Wednesday, March 26, 1913.
[32] From The Bazaar, Pictures, Poetry, Prose, a publication edited by Dr. William E. A. Axon and sold for the benefit of a bazaar held at Manchester in October, 1912, in aid of the United Kingdom Alliance, a temperance organization.
[38] Birkenhead News, Saturday, March 29, 1913.
[44] Birkenhead News, Saturday, March 1, 1913.