Raggle-Taggle (1933)

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Raggle-Taggle; Adventures with a Fiddle in Hungary and Roumania (1933)
by Walter Starkie, illustrated by Arthur Rackham

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Walter StarkieArthur Rackham4684405Raggle-Taggle; Adventures with a Fiddle in Hungary and Roumania1933

Raggle-Taggle

The Gypsy Spell

Raggle-Taggle

Adventures with a Fiddle in
Hungary and Roumania

By Walter Starkie, Litt.D.

Professor of Spanish in the University of Dublin
Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin

New York
E. P. Dutton & Co. Inc.

Raggle-Taggle, Copyright 1933,
by Walter Starkie∷All rights
reserved∷Printed in U. S. A.

First edition

To
Emily and Cecil Harmsworth

Φίλων ἐπωδαῖς ἐξεπᾴδομαι φύσιν

Preface

THIS book is the record of a journey I made alone through Hungary and Roumania and it is based on a diary I wrote in spare moments, generally on odd scraps of paper in cafés, bars, tents, sometimes by the light of the moon. My only excuse for publishing the account of my journey is that a solitary wanderer becomes wearied of talking to himself and needs to share his experiences. My main object in making the journey was to try to live the vagabond life of a Gypsy minstrel who has to rely for his livelihood on his fiddle, but I wanted also to investigate as an amateur, not as a scholar, the wealth of folk music and folk legend which is so essential a part of the lives of those peoples who still listen with rapt attention to the blind rhapsodist sewing together the old songs. In Hungary and Roumania the Gypsies for centuries have played the part of minstrels and story-tellers, always bringing to those countries the romance of their Indian origin. Nowadays it is not so easy to follow the example of George Borrow in a Europe teeming with police and customs officials, where the vagabond is looked on with suspicion. Nevertheless, there are compensations for the man who leaves the hotels and main roads to consort with the waifs and strays, and the principal one is the sensation of complete freedom among the kings of nature as Cervantes called the Gypsies.

My journey, however, was not all raggle-taggle: occasionally I mixed with high folk as well as low: sometimes I went straight from a hovel of Gypsies to a cénacle of professors and artists. But all the time I felt that T was following on the heels of the wandering folk, picking up here and there odd scraps of their lore. When I returned home I went into my library and read again the books written by others who had followed Romany. Seated in an armchair the journey through the realms of the imagination became free and untrammelled, for there were magic carpets, seven-league boots and fairy doors in trees to aid the wanderer. And so I determined also to share my Gypsy-lovers’ library with the reader, for no journey through the world would be complete without the other one through the imagination on the wings of poets. In this way, too, I hope to pay back the debt of gratitude I owe to all the writers who have helped me.

In conclusion, I shall quote the description given of me by my most truthful friend when he saw me plodding through those lands of perspiration and fantasy: “A small, stocky man, broad-shouldered and thick about the girth: complexion fresh and hair fair: jaw strong, but his face chubby and double-chinned: eyes blue and in the opinion of señoritas. Nordic: eyebrows short and one twists slightly upwards diabolically: walks with ambling gait, gets easily out of breath, rests often, laughs immoderately, drinks moderately, but prefers red wine to white: has fits of melancholy, is superstitious and remembers his dreams: is quick to observe a rolling and a romping eye, but prefers an eye of gentle salutations: is never merry when listening to sweet music, and when playing a fiddle feels like Don Quixote on Rozinante, In fact the fiddle is, as Sterne would say, his hobby-horse, his sporting little filly-folly carrying him cantering away from the cares of life.”

Trinity College,

Dublin,

February, 1933.

Contents

Frontispiece by Arthur Rackham

Chap.			Page
Part I
I	Off with the Raggle-Taggle Gypsies		3
		January 1919: With the British Army in Italy—After I had given a violin recital in a hut some Austrian prisoners come up to me—They were Hungarian Gypsies—They ask for packing-cases—One of them they make fiddles—One of them tells me the story of the fiddle’s origin—I make a blood promise to go to Hungary.
II	Fiddling my Way		7
		July 1929: I set out on the Hungarian journey from Genoa—Necessary preparations: Peasant’s costume, camera and tin of Flit—Third class on the train —Smells, their infinite variety—Fiddling in the train.
III	Multani. Gypsies—Women— Wine—Csárdás		12
		Definition of the magic word Mulatni—By the waters of Lake Balaton—A Don Juanesque Gypsy-I meet Anna, a Magyar-Gypsy beauty—A scene in Hungary—Tokay wine, symbol of the Magyar race—Bacchanalian dancing under the trees—Gypsy rhythms—Aristotelian katharsis—I go home with Anna—An adventure—The knocking at the door—A providential escape.
IV	On the Road towards Budapest. Vagabonds and Vampires.		27
		I fiddle in the streets—Tramping along the dusty roads—John Brown’s Body—I meet Austrian hikers—I break one of the rules of hiking—Gypsy tents—Rough customers—I make an inglorious escape—I contrast myself with Borrow—Bivouacking in a graveyard—Terrors of loneliness—Vampires, bats, flickering lights—The wild old man—His story.
V	A Vagabond in Budapest		48
		“Drag your feet and the girls will speak to you”—The Russian Gypsy woman—The dangers of sleep-walking—Fiddling calms the nerves.
VI	Bupapest’s Island of Joy. Gypsy Violin Kings		56
		Gypsy music on the Danube—Magyary Imre, a great minstrel—His contempt for nomads—His stories of Bihari, the king of gypsies—Czermak, the noble turned Gypsy, and Czinka Panna, the most famous woman minstrel who ever lived—The magic tune of Czinka Panna—Music and magic: Tunes that consume with fire.
VII	The Hungarian Idiom in Music. Adventures with Tunes		72
		My highbrow musical friend—Béla Bartók and Kodály—Peasant music, old and new—The dangers of narrow musical nationalism—Music, the only true international language.
VIII	The Day of Saint Stephen. Pagentry in Budapest		84
		Church bells—Ancestral Hungary—The hand of Saint Stephen—The melancholy survival in the modern world of past glories.
IX	Life on the Hungarian Plain; Mezökövesd		90
		Peasant life—A country inn—Performing the “Thou” ceremony with a girl: the innkeeper and his blasé daughters—Kovács, the Magyar, from Pittsburg, U.S.A.—Duelling—Lajos, the waiter, his great significance—He is the Johannes Factotum.
X	Dining with a Hungarian Noble. A Plea for the Grand Seigneur		102
		My meeting with the old aristocrat—His views on music—Mozart, the salon and embroidery—A definition of the Grand Seigneur—A comparison with our British idea—Magyar folk song and the history of the country—The Magyar craze for wandering—A comparison between Hungarian and Spanish nobleza,
XI	Life in a Village Circus. My Arab Fakir Friend		108
		The circus and the comedy of life—The ragged circus arrives at Mezökövesd—I meet Ali Hussein—He is a citizen of the world—“Nobody belongs to me but God”—Gilda, the fairy of the circus—Life in a caravan.
XII	The Story or Fair Manczi		118
		Who is the girl with the golden hair?—Poor Manczi the play-girl of the inn—Her life—I fall ill at the inn—My hallucination—Manczi nurses me—Our tearful parting.
XIII	Out on the Puszta. Food and Lodging for a Tune		126
		I tramp wearily on—The Jewish pedlar—Sunset on the endless plain—The lonely night—My search for a bed—The doors of the peasants closed—The tune that became “Open Sesame”—Life in the farmhouse.
XIV	The Village Schoolmaster		134
		Magyar hospitality—String-quartet’s beneath the trees.
XV	The Funeral of a Gypsy Primás		138
		A “wake” in Hungary—The procession of fiddlers—Wafting the spirit away on the wings of music—The son playing over his father’s open grave.
XVI	Debrecen. The City OF Merchants		143
		Magyar courtesy—A comparison with Spaniards and Swedes—My friend the sugar inspector—The hospitable hotel-keeper—A Szekel lady—Where is your Flemish ancestry now, O Citizen of Decbrecen—Juliska—I play the part of a wandering Don Juan with her—She makes me her confessor—I play to her face.
XVII	The Fata Morgana. With the Cowboys on the Hortobágy. The Golden Age		152
		The mirage which is called the Fata Morgana—She is a fairy-Life on the Hortobágy is the golden age—The horsemen are the aristocrats— Wild horses—Kovács, the king of cowboys—The traditional songs of the Hortobágy—Life in the shepherds’ huts.
XVIII	Passing into Transylvania. The Land beyond the Forest		164
		The promise to the Gypsy—Entering the town as a Gypsy—Playing in the street.
Part II
XIX	A Transylvanian Village. Huedin		171
		Rough quarters—The indiscretion of asking tor soap and water—My loneliness—Monotonous life in the town—The Gypsy who wants to wake up the town—His schemes.
XX	Fair Day in Huedin		182
		Bustle and excitement every where—The Gypsy girls—I buy them bracelets—Their talent for stealing.
XXI	Rostás, THE Gypsy Violinist		188
		A sinister-looking figure—He makes use of me—Playing in the streets and cafés—Rostás plays by the grace of God.
XXII	Vagabonding with Rostás		193
		We tramp on the road to Almás—Rostás has a lordly manner, but it was I who paid!—His hovel—I meet his mother, wife and children—Promiscuous quarters—An attempt to rob me which ends in my having to play the part of Joseph—I escape out into purer air—The magic of the dawn and the fairies.
XXIII	On the Road in Transylvania. The Blind Flute-player		202
		I dissolve my partnership with Rostás—My loneliness as I tried to follow the way of the Troubadours—My imaginary conversation with Demetrius Kármán, the Gypsy minstrel of the sixteenth century—Random reflections on my life as a vagabond—“The Lord will provide”—I dream like the barber’s sixth brother—The Gypsy battle of Nagy Ida—I meet the blind flute-player—Playing and praying he was the true rhapsodist.
XXIV	Cruj or Korozsvár. Hungarian-Roumanian Point Counterpoint		212
		This way and that divided the swift mind—The difficulty a stranger has in understanding the Hungarian-Roumanian question—I find myself penniless—The hard-hearted British Consul—A Roumanian comes to my rescue—Gypsies—Their obscenity—I try to take a photograph—They go for me—The evil eye—Turning the other cheek—The charm of Cluj the University town—Transylvanian traditions.
XXV	Bohemians Not Gypsies. A Roumanian Symposium		224
		I become a member of a Cénacle in Cluj—Professor Grimm—The definition of a Bohemian—Why Bohemians wear beards—Grimm plays on sixteen strings, I only play on four—His companions—The three musqueteers—The two actresses—The library of folly—The wit of the Roumanians—not Latin but Byzantine—Our party becomes more orgiastic—Rabelais en redingote—Negosanu, the Porthos of our party, tells a story—Boccaccio whispered it in his car—Why our actress friends carried fans—The end of the party—Gargantua reduced to the size of a catchpole.
XXVI	Among the Gypsies of Cluj		241
		Rosa, the fat Gypsy flower-seller, invites me to visit her family—The street of the spoons—A witch woman—Poor Mara—Gypsy marriage customs—The breaking of the jar—The spirit of water must be appeased—I go to a Gypsy marriage—Three days’ frenzy—The weeping bride—Wild orgy—The silver cups that must be pawned.
XXVIII	The Pied Piper of Hamelin. He was a Gypsy Spell-Binder		257
		I leave Cluj and tramp towards Sibiu—I meet the Pied Piper—He is dressed in the colours of a Gypsy—He tells me the story of the rats at Hamelin—He piped the children out of the town and into the hill—They reappeared at Hermannstade in the middle of Transylvania—The piper leads me on my way.
XXVIII	Sibiu or Hermannstadt. Life among the Saxons		263
		A Saxon dropped down into the midst of an eastern land—The Saxon character—Fair-haired and blue-eyed girls—Queer customs—The Borten and the Patzel—Elsa, the Saxon girl—The Roumanians are a contrast to the austere Saxons—Roumanian embroidery and pottery—I visit the Metropolitan of Transylvania—The shocked Priest—I refuse to visit museums and we go down to the Gypsy quarter—What the priest heard from the rollicking Gypsy women made him take to his heels and run away—Doctor Popa and the Gypsy Alecsandru—A magnificent wreck of a man.
XXIX	Sälişte—Singing Town of the Roumanians		263
		Sälişte, a tiny town at the foot of the Carpathians— Oresanu, the Inspector of Finances of the town—A visit to the popa of Sälişte—Ţintea, the beautiful Roumanian maiden—A town full of dancing and singing people—Roumanian serenading.
XXX	Nomad Gypsies		283
		On my way from Sibiu to Fagăras I find a nomad Gypsy camp—Life in the tribe—The chief—Gypsy food—I play to the tribe by the fires—The flaming faces —The dance of death—The Gypsy hymn to nature,
XXXI	Sleeping in a Gypsy Tent		292
		Gypsy quarrels—The Gypsy patterans>My tribe of Gypsies disappear as though by magic.
XXXII	Fagăras. Mainly about Roumanian Peasant Customs. Why did the Gypsies eat their Church		298
		The inn at Fagăras—Rural politics—The farmers and the communist from the city—Roumanian dirges and funeral customs—For once I, the busnó, stir up the Gypsies—Why do the Gypsies not cultivate the fields?—The Gypsies ate their church—Gypsy gluttony.
XXXIII	An Uncomfortable Adventure with Gypsies		312
		Aching feet made me think of boot-lore—The story of the old woman who lived in a shoe is Gypsy—So too is the story of the seven-league boots—My peasant companion from the Carpathians—The bear-tamer and his bear——How the bear is made to dance—The bear-tamer’s charms—He tells me of the Devil’s school—The peasant and I reach a Gypsy camp—The usual quarrel—A Gypsy drinks with me—He attacks me—The peasant saves me-The peasant leaves me and I wander alone—The clanging of iron chains in the night—The ghostly cross terrifies me.
XXXIV	Adventures in Third Class		325
		An inferno—The struggle for the train— Train types—Garlic and the evil eye.
XXXV	Bucharest. I. The Lights		331
		A town of one street, one church and one idea—The winding street of adventure—A visit to the Roumanian national theatre—The ante-room of the director with its various stage types—Bernard Shaw in Roumania—Music in Bucharest—Enescu and the national composers—An adventure that befell me in the calea Victoriei-—I fall a victim to the courtezan.
XXXVI	Bucharest. II. The Shadows. Life among the Vagabonds		346
		I have no money and I have to descend to the Gypsy quarter—Sunset in the Gypsy quarter—Colour, smells and sound—I go to the house of a Gypsy—Romany revels—A row on a grand scale-—Paraschiva, the drunken hag—Life in a Gypsy boarding-house—Maya—I fall ill and am cured by the Gypsy witch, Paraschiva—Her incantations and her foul remedy drives the evil spirit out of me.
XXXVII	Songs and Magic Dances of Roumania		362
		A petrece, the equivalent in Roumania of Hungarian Mulatni—The melancholy doina—The swift bräu and the acrobatic dancers—The dignified hora, a communal dance—The “Song of the Shepherd”—I saw them strip the Gypsy girl for the magic dance—The dance of beautiful John—The cult of the earth mother and the beautiful youth—Water magic—The dance of the hobby horse.
Epilogue	Passing through the Iron Gates to the End of the Journey		373
		Rain and melancholy—The dance of the fleas—What was the origin of fleas—The ethics of Gypsy wandering—They are the kings of nature—My dream as I sailed on the Danube to Belgrade.
	The Library of A Gypsy Lover. A Short Bibliography of Initiation		382
	List of Gramophone Records of Gypsy Music		390
	Index and Glossary		393

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