SEVEN VIRGINS TIE SEVEN SILKEN KNOTS

Northern Advocate, 1 December 1936, Page 8

SEVEN VIRGINS TIE SEVEN SILKEN KNOTS

I’have just seen the life-lines on the palms of a young man and woman spurt blood as they were cut by a man in purple velvet bolero, writes Louise Morgan in the ‘News Chronicle.’ I saw their hands tied together with a silk cord —binding them together in marriage until death.

A leaping camp fire shone on this gipsy wedding, performed with the Pura Rata, the mystic and ancient blood-law of Romany—which demands the mingling of the blood of bride and groom.

The tribe sat about the fire holding “fruitful branches” of oak with acorns. Into the silent circle came the slender young couple, Nellie Gray (20) and Johnnie Lee (22), both of the tribe of Petulengro.

They had travelled eight hours from Cumberland to be married by the j sherengo or chief of the tribe. ! Pale, but composed, and with a j strange dignity, they fierved themI selves for the ordeal by knife. ) Dominant was Chief Petulengro in ' his scarlet and gold and purple, with j the silver insignia of his rank a

dog’s head for his knowledge of herbal medicine, a huge brooch for his power as priest and diviner, and his ancient chieftain's chain. He challenged any present to throw a branch on the fire if ho know reason why the two should not be married. Then, taking the right hand of the girl and the left of the man, he cut sharply. The blood flowed, but neither flinched.

The bridesmaid, Diane Faa, tied their hands, wounds together, and the cord was knotted seven times by each of seven virgins while the chief recited an ancient prayer in Romany. Then he cut the cord and the ceremony was over. They exchanged the “long, long” marital > kiss and “jumped the fire,” spearately and then together hand and Then began the feasting, dancing and music.

Rabbits netted early in the morning had been stewing in the ceremonial fire. Delicious tarts had been made from crab-apples. All was washed down In the homebrewed and heady kini or gipsy wine. The little bridesmaid sang a melancholy air, “Tears in a Gipsy’s Eyes.” written especially for the wedding by Petulengro—himself a bachelor.

Both bride and bridegroom played the piano-accordion in the orchestra.

too excited to notice their wounded hands.

The bridesmaid, played the banjo, the best man the third piano-accor-dion.

The' gipsy guests were full of their lore. They knew beforehand this would be a fine night for the wedding, they told me.

“I go back tonight with my husband to his caravan in Cumberland,” the bride told me.

But she would say nothing of their first meeting or of how they decided to marry.