Evening Star Newspaper, March 4, 1923, Page 75

Part 5—8 Pages Gyps BY LOUISE RICE. “Skirt and Knife” Member of Rom Race, y OW many the familia times have you seen r. vet forever mysterious, red wagons come Jumbering past your door— big. cavernous wagons, with peculiar little windows, from which were peering out unfathomable eyes and strange. dark s? More often, | probably, than you can remember. On the other hand. what have you come | to know of the people who live in| those quaint wagons. of their beliefs | and their manners, their customs and | their languag | You may be able to read ancient Sanskrit, and you may know tne prayer that the Thibetan llamas use «t mealtime, but this stranger within our gates—infinitely stranger than any oriental of the geographies—re- | mains all but 4 myth to us. And this, | notwithstanding the fact that his| wagons may have been passing along | well-defined in our country| for more than two hundred vears. Tt was as a child in Missouri that T nosed into my first sipsy wagon. Town in a littie hollow by some wil- lows it stood, near a small creek. Al- though outlying portions of St. Louis | wero within ten minutes’ walk of it, | 1 don't believe another soul found it, | except myself—and a couple of hun- | gry cats. These were solicitously fed | as cats always are fed by the peo- $i6 who steadfastly assert that they | are the descendants of the ancient| Egyptians and that their veneration for the cat family is part of the m terlous religion which many of them still practice. This, however, they will | by no means admit to you until you | are a “skirt and knife’ member of | the gypsy tribe | When you are to be made a “skirt! and knife” member all the gypsies at | the scene of the rite who know you advance and take your hand, without a word, but in their own hands there will be either a lops. thin knife or a fold of the skirt, according to the sex. After that, you are reckoned a brother or sister by adoption. Tam a ! “skirt and hnife” member of the | Romany race. Romany, and not gyp- | sy, is the name of these people in- variably use for themselves, unless | they take occasion to pronounce the | full and formal word: “Egyptions.” * % HOSE wagons near St. Louis con- | cealed themselves well, and thisf was decidedly characteristic. When | ou see gypsies camping near an | open place vou may be sure thay! they are there for the purpose of | being seen. This is because the | women uropose to “dukker,” or el fortunes, the men probably lLave some herse trade under way. A good part cf the time, however, the wagcens pass before your country or suburban door while you are asleep | and are parked in a bit of woodland nearby with such consummate skill as to be entirely hidden, while at the same time being sheitered from the wind and near to water. 1 once dis- covered a gypsy band of ten wagons in a small wood within one mile of Boonton, N. J. when not a person routes while LOUISE RICE, AUTHOR AND ADOPTED MEMBER OF A GYP- SYTRIBE. thereabouts had the sihightest idea that so much as one gypsy wagon was in all that part of the country. Most of those possessing real gypsy blood in Amerioa are didikai, meaning half-breed. They are part- English, part-Hungarian, part-Span- ish, part-Russian or part-Rumanian, but they all adhere to the ideas and the secret religion, the domestic cus- toms and the superstitious beliefs (as gorgios call them) which mark the real gypsy. Of the latter there are few, indeed, anywhere in the world, but -of the didikai there are multitudes. And these are all the more picturesque for the infusion of other bloods. The secret religion of these people, whether pure gypsies or didikai, may he traced, as I have sald, to that of the anclent Egyptlans. Many of them know nothing of anclent his- 1ory, nothing of the wonderful rec- ords left by the Egyptian race, but they often possess a ring, worked in gold, descending from daughter to daughter, on which there is the fig- ure of Isis. This they invariably call “Fer” and Invoke on many occasions. I have heard a gypsy woman, §colding her husband for gambling, #ay: “Her is displeased with you for this, and you know it well. Her will dunish you. One of the children will Do sick.” Tha girl of the family, the oldest, twears this ring, and she is regarded : ‘her brothers and all the male ers of the famdly with secret Weneration. The ring is not to be fpoken of, and if you, a gorgio (not & gypry) happen to notice and com- wyent upon it, it im the sign that a aisfommus rwill Shafall = 5 1€S | hard stare and LY . soon and “Those” are besought use their influence to avert this. Don't ever casually walk up to a gypsy encampment and ask about “Those.” You will be met with a a puzzled shake of the head. *“Those? What is that Don’t ask about the marriage cus- toms. They will sometimes bring out the marriage certificate of a county clerk and one that is signed by a Methodist clergyman and appear quite shocked if you persist in asking for any other or for details that would conflict with these conven- tional records. Never, never will they own to any one but a gypsy by Glood or adoption that they comply with the law of the country chiefly for safety's sake and that they re- gard such ceremonies as Jittle more than meaningless. Neverg never will they admit that they ha their own marriage ceremonies and that with them this is all that really counts, even though the contracting parties to be so low in gypsy blood that they are | like me—just a long-distance gypsy. the Llood coming from generations back. Oh, no. nothing of this wili be admitted until you have really gained their confidence. 1t takes vears to do that. TOW that so many of the gypsies N have grown to know me I can gain the entree to many a Romany camp simply by mentioning names in other camps that I know. “Prince Kala,” a half-English, half-Hunga- rian gypsy of wealth and social standing in England, who every five years or so travels around the United States visiting gypsies in all parts of the country, is an excellent friend of mine. I often find, on sauntering into a new camp, that he has men- tioned me “the kosko gorgio"—the good stranger—and that I am at once among friends. Then I have some very special friends in the English Boswells. the aristocracy of the English gypsies, who for the last ten years have made their home in Canada. The very least of the didikai whistle respectfully at the mention of this name. They are, in a way, highly Intellectual, but the old, flerce blood runs in them, under- neath all their “gorgio” education. Eden Boswell, for instance, as hand- some as any stage gypsy ever dared to be, with great shoulders, a small walist, dark, smouldering eyes, teeth, even as pearls and white as milk, with a laugh that will draw women and men to him as if with a silken cord. A moody fellow, given to sil- ences, to flerce temper, to sudden gayety. ‘To hear him sing the old “Romany lils—the puro Romany lils"— the old, old songs of gypsydom, in the 8ypsy language, the songs that al have secret meanings—that is some- thing to stir the blood! Once, on an island where we were camping. in a little-known Canadian river, I sat all night by a handful of fire, listening to the strange husky, and vet divine, voice, as he walked up and down, out- side the circle of light. The moon was shining, of course. No gypsy ‘wants to sing in the night unless “the lght” is 1it. The gypsy man is a gorgeous liar. He loves a good lie and will tell it with the greatest conviction. Tt is his pastime—his hobby, and no one who knew anything about the real Romany Would ever belleve what a man of the race told him unless there were women present. However, for any gorgio to get an opportunity really to talk with the men of & gYDPSy camp is not easy. ‘They are swaggerers in manner, bold of eye and deflant in speech, yet the real and undisputed boss is the wom- an who sits in the tan or drives the wardo—who in tent or wagon has her hand, literally and figurative- ly, on the whip. 2 ‘When you do get to him, usually b; the process of talking horse to the woman until she sends you out to where the men and the horses are, you will find something that has giv- eon us the traditional gypsy—a fellow with .2 red sash.and osrals ia his MAGAZINE SECTION - The Suntlmy Star. WASHINGTON, 3. Stories Told of | £ ears, who, on finding you a congenial soul, will relate his victories in fisti- cuffs, his travels in known and un- known parts of the world and his triumphs in love: also he may tell you that he beats his wife if she doesn’t behave. If the wife happens to come out while this is underway he will grin 2nd abruptly fall silent with a sidewink at you. Well may he fall silent! His wife | | knows what he is saying, but so long as she does not hear him she will let him have his little joke. In the mos | ! i ~HE HAD SUNG HIS LAST SO. | modern of symbolism this talk of his ’13 “a gesture.” Tt is his traditional | right to get off this tall talk, because exactly the opposite is the truth. E has no money except what his ife gives him: he has no au- thority over the children; he never has any of the marvelous jewelry which is the property of the gypsy. and perhaps every cent that he saves goes into it, so that he is personally a pauper, usually. even when there are thousands and thousands of dol- lars’ worth of gems in the unpreten- tious wagon he lives in. He can talk —and that is about all! On the other hand, he has some- thing that few gorgio men possess in the same degree—he has, in love, the utmost fidelity, tenderness, passion ) and devotion from his mate. For a gypsy woman to be false to her mar- riage vows is all but unheard of. In return for this, she is fercely jealous. | Her man, it must be remembered, is always more or less under her eve. He and the household life are one. You don’t hear much in the news- papers of what happens sometimes in { the gypsy camps. I shall now tell a story that I dare to, after ten years, as all the parties to it are out of this country. It is related, as here set down, by one with gypsy blood in the veins, who claims to have been an eyewitness: “Plcture to yourself a gypsy camp, three wagons, about ten horses, two children, fire in the middle, with the sharp-pointed plece of iron over it, and the kettle hanging from the long hook at the top; moon shining, & man with a red sash, a velvet coat with gold buttons and a large blue silk scarf wound about his black curls, 1ying on a big, bralded rug before the fire. He is playing a guitar and sing- ing a Romany song. At the fire, with a red, pleated skirt and a yellow silk waist, priceless corals around her waist and on her neck, a beautiful woman bends, putting corn, unhusk- ed, in the ashes of the fire to roast. I stroll on tho scene. “‘Sholem, Rawni’ they say, re- celving me. T ask after the missing four wagons. They have gone up the other road I am told. Something is in the air. I don’t know what, but I don’t like the ‘feel’ of it. That little, little drop of the ‘kaulli ratti’ (the black blood) that I have tells me that all is not well despite the peace of the scene. “We eat. The children are put to bed. The horses are hobbled for the night. My bed is made for me in one of the wagons. Lovely, fragrant sheets, all tidy in the wardo, the sing- ing still going on outside. Why am I 80 mnervous? “The . song ceases. After a few minutes thers is a strange, gurgling cry. I start up and rush out. There lles the singer, by the fire, and the ‘woman is shaking and shivering be- side him.. The .knife that gypsy | He wanted to go. Dile: 5, th |¢ When the Great Violinist Came. i e women carry under their skirts ix| sticking from the breast of the still figure. 4 “L have heard of this thing, but I have never seen it and T turn 1l After a time I go over to the woman. | She is moaning and kissing the dark, | handsome face. | So he was false? Romany jib Ai—ai—he was false.’ ‘He owned to it” “‘He sald that he—feared—that he would be false again. It was a stain. So—! * ok ok % | ¢6] LOOKED down at the man whose beauey was, indeed. fatal. 1 have never seen such a man-creature since. Al women, many gorgols. | even, simply threw themselves at his | feet. He had had a sweetheart among | the farmers’ daughters in a state not far from New York—and his wife had come to know of it. He had con- | !fessed, not only to that lapse, but | his fear that he could not save him- | self from the degradation of contin- “SHE 18 VERY PALE, AND HER BLACK EYES BURN, BUT SHE IS BRAVE, THAT WILD ‘WOMAN.” ued affairs. Therefore, his wife had | killed him. He had sung his last song and then bared his breast to the knife that is kept for the purpose, but seldom so used. “Together, we placed him in his wagon, and drove twenty miles into the hills, where the rest of the wagons were and there we bullt a funeral pyre. We tended it for twen- ty-four hours until there was nothing left but a blackened skull. This the woman put in a velvet bag and took away with her, leaving behind only some gray ashes and the marks of where some wagons had stood.” Another ecene which 1. witnessed = SUNDAY MOR .7 G AND THEN BARED HIS BREAST TO THE K myself: A farm yard (in an Atlantic coast state), barns in the back, the low house before it. a fire where the iron hook holds a big kettle of wild duck. about ten wagons backed up elong the road outside; gypsies, to the number of thirty, sitting about a table made of planks laid on saw- bucks. Dinner is served, and the ta- ble is cleared away, Then the man of the house, a farmer of Dutch de- scent, is called out by the head of the string of wagons. He comes re- luctantly and his eves travel around the circle of dark faces, with fear in them. When he sees me, taking me for a gorgio among them, he mut- tered. “Say—1 don't like the way these folks are acting. What do they mean?" I know, but I won't tell. They mean something serious. This farm- er, once handsome perhaps, has been secretly following the caravan about this section, and today, in a- little wood, somewhat against her will— but not wholly—he- kissed a gypsy ‘woman. Her husband saw it. So did 1" We were both in that wood, look- Ing for her, knowing. her to have s e Ways in Which Penalties Are Inflicted for Breaches of arriage Vows—Call Themselves Romany Except When Full Name of - Egyptian Is Used—Most of Those in This Country Are Part English, Part Hun- . garian, Part Spanish or Part Rumanian—Religion Traced to Ancient Egypt. G, MARCH 4, 1923. | l little wilder blood than most of the others, for she is part Hungarlan, part Arab and part gypsy. The com- bination, while it has given her amazing beauty, seemed to have put fire in her velns instead of blood. Despite that. there was nothing in her conduct that had not been mere- Iy flirtatious, yet, according to the 8ypsy code, she has merited death. Nevertheless, she is to be punished in another way and -this gorgio is to be made to see it done. Her_husband stands up, as all the rest are seated, and tells what has happened. She is very pale, and her black eyes burn, but she is brave, that wild woman. Not a sound comes from her lips as he demands that she kiss him—“the full kiss"—the kiss in which the ‘woman and the man touch tongues—the “lubbeny kiss.” She knows, she knows! Like me, she has heard of this thing. I run over and take her cold and trembling hand in mine. Yet better this than death! The man is trembling, too. He takes my other hand. I hold them, hard. He bites off the tip of her tongue. “The farmer starts up and runs in- | side the house, with a yell of fright, while the man, sobbing. holds her in his.arme and lavishes upon her all the endearing names in which the Ro- many_ jib is 8o replete. She smiles, although she is faint, and -rubs her head up into the comfortable crook of his arm. She will never be able to speak distjnctly again and she is branded for life with the fact that she has kissed a man not her hus- band. Yet that wild blood of hers is satisfled and soothed; she knows that she is loved with the flerce passion that matche$ her own, * k ke Xk NOTHER scene: I am asleep in the New Jersey house that I own, where the Romanys have often stopped (thereby scandalizing the neighbors!), when I am awakened by something which hits me softly on the cheek. It is a rose from the rambler outside my window and the thrower is sitting there on the sill, an impish figure, with rumpled hair and another rose between his lips. After a moment I identify him as Jansi, Chan’s boy. “There is a time of Mul-cerus,” he tells me, and slides down the water pipe, which had given him access to the window. I hurry to dress. This 1s something that I have never seen and that T have -heard mentioned in whispers, once in a while. The “musical drunkenne he magic night,” “the love of her"—the last spoken with the sign of the secret religion. { When I hasten along the canal bank I hear, faintly, the sound of music and I stop, of a second, as- tonished. This is not the twanging of Chan or the old guitar; it is & violin, played with a master's hand. Surely, surely I have heard that delirious “fantasie” played before! 1 have. When I coms into the camp there s a good fire going and the lanterns are all lit, while, best of all, the moon is shining full, and there, with wild flowers hastily pulled trom the.fields and from the canal banks-piléd around his.feet and held behind Mim. fn.great by flade | “the queen” makes is on tap. | other: | ing like one inspired, head turned to | where his destiny ship comes to anchor. | brush or tree branch. | There is feverish activity. Soon tiny . l FEATURES l - and Merda, the prettiest little girls| of the tribe, is ( ) the great violinist, whom 1 last saw on the platform of a New York concert hall, bowing @ the applause of lhousand!l of sophisticated Manhattanites. “So you are the kosko gorgio?’ he says, without stopping the move- ment of his bow, “You are the first to see this, I think.' “I think T am,” T say, as I sit down by old Adam Lane. In the back- ground, twisting his hands and very nervous, is the manager of (—-), who appeals to me in a whisper to know, “whainell’s is frightened stiff. I assure him that he can take hjs pet home by morn- ing. Some of the fiery home brew that Every- body has a big cupful. The violinist continues to play, and gradually he swings Into something that I know for an old Romany gillfe—an ancient gypsy song. How we mangs the balo being one of the “secret songs, meaning something quite | e than the words would; 'How we steal the pig.” ok % % O0ON we are singing, the girls carrying the tune and the men making & “bum, pum, bum, bum" ac- companiment, which is like good guitars strumming. (——) is Bla)“‘ impl| the side, listening, following, weav- ing a marvellous strain of melody to accompany and to float above the| other tones. Husbands and wives and lovers, kissing each other deli- cately, sway with the melody. Soon, in couples, they begin to wander in' * all this about? He | dden Practices Persist After 200 Years in America and out among the shadows, singing as they go. Their voices float back. weird and illusive. (——) continues to play. Some of the children from the wagons are awake, singing in their night clothes, at the doors. The old dog, who is the mascot. comes and sticks his nose into my hand. He is shivering and afrald. So am I The moon is going down. The wild children of the road are wandering in there far in among the trees. T know that they are making vows of love that ©ven old, old couples are pledging fealty *‘om the long way,” the road after death, until, as they believe, they shall meet again in reincarnated bodles. Merda, who wears the ring of “Her.” comes back first, with young Sylvester Lane. They are silent and deeply moved. Tt is not often that a time of Mul-cerus comes. This time ( ) has brought it. He is a didikai, a posh-and-posh, a half- and-half gypsy, who usually comes to see this particular band of wagons every third vear, when he is en tour in America. But Mul-cerus may come any time. It is something about which no gypsy will willingly talk. It ig “Riding the Snake": it is “the Night of Those"; it is “the Love Fest:- s “Heaven's Night,” and there is no set time for it. It is of the spirit nd comes from nowhere, out of the sweet breezes (usually of a June even- ing). Tt is the old Egyptian madness, still pulsing in the blood of these mys- | terious members of that most myste- rious race, dead, as to history, but alive today In the midst of the most prosaic of the ages. (Goprright. 1923.) Some Facts About Spiders PIDERS are the world's oldest | aviators. Lacking wings, they had learned the principles of aerfal navigation before man dreamed of the balloon. Every nor- mal young spider leaves home on a silken blimp. Only the one voyage is made, for the insect mariner in-| variably settles down in the country ‘With the first warm days of spring, baby spiders—hundreds of them in a | single nest—turn their attention to airship bullding. Each climbs to the highest point attainable on weed, Infant looms are put to work for the first time. threads are dangling from the various vantage points. These are the gossamer dirigibles that will carry the intrepid pilots away. At the end of his slender rope the spider swings at last, in lazy antici- pation of a breeze that will release his mooring. There is a sudden gust, and the threadship is free. Over hill and dale it floats, sometimes hun- dreds and thousands of yards. When it comes to earth, the spider alights and looks for a home, never again to take to the air. Originally aviators, most spiders become surgeons and profit hand- somely from their practice. That is because they eat their patients. But they operate scientifically. No vivi- sectionist knows the anatomy of his subject better. The spider has equip- ped himself with a mental map of the nervous systems of the insects he preys upon, and always he strikes at a vital nerve point. With such accuracy does he thrust his poisonous fang that he may cause the instant death of the victim | or induce a state of paralysis which.| will keep the meat fresh for a future | meal. i The black-bellled tarantula 15 a humane killer. With a single stroke he cuts the cervical ganglia at the back of the victim's neck. It is the only point where a stngle sting will prove immediately fatal, and the tarantula apparently knows it. Web-spinning spiders do not pos- sess the ready appetites of the taran- tula. They prefer to ensnare their game in webs and sting certain nerves which will produce paralysis rather than death. Being blood-suckers. these spiders thus preserve the body julces of their victims until they are in a mood to dine. First and last mathematician. It is the role which he stars. Though brilliant as an aviator and surgeon, his exploits in these flelds necessarily are limited. As a geometrician, he could fill & col- lege professorship were he gifted with human speech. The common garden spider spins a web that shows marvelous powers of calculation. It is shaped, roughly, like a wheel, with more than a score of spokes. the spider is How does the weaver always man- ®ge to place these spokes so that they will be the same distance apart wiih the angles formed at the center of the wheel equal? st this is not all. The spider now fills in the space between the spokes with what is known to mathema- ticlans as the logarithmic spiral. This is a curved line, starting at the center or “pole” and procesding in ever widening and parallel curves to its outer end. It is one of the most beautiful of geometric figures. From what sources has the spider obtalned this knowledge of geometty? The usual answer, “Instinct,” is not sufficing, though it is the best science has to offer. Naturalists of & future age may solve the riddle. Fruit Acids From Benzol To Lower Living Cost Bx’ a most ingenious method coal- tar can be made to yield tartaric acid and other important substances that will help to lower the cost of living. The basis of the process is a method of bullding up various sub- stances from malic acld obtained from benzol, one of the derivatives of dark and viscid coaltar. Malic acid has been separated from the juices of certain plants and fruits, but at a cost so high that it could not be put on the market and has been considered merely as a laboratory curiosity. By the pro- cess mentioned, benzol is mixed with air and the vapor is passed over a catalyzer, a material which alters the speed of chemical reactions with- out being in itself affected. On ac- count of their mysterious power to join other substances in chemical wedlock, catalyzers are known as “chemical parsons.” ‘With malic acld as a base, it is possible to prepare other valuable acids. Of these, the most welcome to the housekeeper and the trade is tartaric, which hitherto has been made from cream of tartar, a solid found in the bottom of wine casks and employed principally in the making of baking powder. By the new process citric acid can also be derived from the malio acid base. Citric acid causes tho sour taste of lemons and other citrus fruits, and is used in lemonade and orange drink compounds. It is much employed in the arts. Lactic acid can also be manufac- tured inexpensively by the new method. It was originally derived by fermenting milk, as its name implies, although there are now several other processes for preparing it synthetio- ally. Of late years, farmers have been giving lactic acid as a tonic and appetizer to pigs, for although the poroine breed is supposed always to be hungry, it is found that its crav- ing for food and powers of assimil- ation, and therefore its welght, oould be greatly increased by such a m 5 This acid is consumed in large quantities in the dyeing of wool, and is of much worth in various in- dustries. Succinic acid, which is useful in making many laboratory tests, can also be derived at a low figure by the new method. As it is now obtained by the distillation of amber ordin- arily this substance is costiy. Insect Cunning. 7THE gardens in Hamburg were some years ago decorated with white-leaf maples, and since the in- troduction of these shrubs the com- mon white butterfly has chosen them for its settling place. Concealed in the white leaves, the butterfly is safe from enemies. An instance, more sug- gostive of insect cunning, is told of a spider. It spun its web in a saw- mill in a place where the passing of lumber frequently broke the long stay threads that hold the web. The situation was too favorable for filex to be abandoned, and finally the spider got around the difficulty by diseard- ing the use of stays and substituting for them, to keep the web stretcired, a nail which it wove into the lower edge of the fabrio. A Lamp of Science. AY important use is made of tae mercury vapor lamp In scientifie investigation. In optical experinvents in the laboratory it is oftea lmport- ant ¢o have at command a monodhro- matic light. Formerly the mercury arc-light was employed for this pur- pose, but after being used a short time, the efliclency of this source of light seriously falls off. Tt has been found, however, that the lamp gives the same monochromatic light, with very fine rays, so that it is admirably suited for the study of.interference phenomena, and it possesses the great advantage of being steady and trust- worthy in its out put More-over, being a commercial apparatus, it is easily obtained, and can be used at & comparatively small expense, . :