The Legend of Gypsy Blood: Tea Leaves, Burning Vardos and DNA

This week’s 52 Ancestors topic is ‘Family Legend’. When I was little, I always heard that my grandmother’s mother, Leah Swinbourne was ‘born of gypsy blood’. She foretold her own death in quite some detail by reading the tea leaves. But that’s a story in itself, to be told another day. I know my Mum was always very respectful of the gypsy women that would come to our door selling pegs and heather. She always managed to find sixpence to spare, even during lean weeks.

I quite liked the idea of being a gypsy. As a little girl it conjured up all sorts of romantic notions of campfires, dancing and magic. To this day I enjoy the sound of traditional gypsy music.

It took a while to find any evidence of gypsy blood though. Even now it’s largely circumstantial. Leah’s birth certificate showed her to have been born in a ‘normal’ house in Birmingham, and the family’s census entries showed addresses that weren’t gypsy encampments. There was quite a large gypsy camp in Birmingham at a place known as The Black Patch near Smethwick. This has become rather well known for being the birthplace of Charlie Chaplin according to his family members, so I was hopeful of finding a link there! As it turned out though, the gypsy connection was from another part of the country.

Leah’s mother Elizabeth (nee Beckett) was born about 1856 in Bath, Somerset. She was the daughter of John William Beckett, a coach trimmer and his ‘wife’, Eliza Kaines. They seemed to avoid officialdom at almost every turn to begin with. There was no marriage to be found, their first-born Elizabeth’s birth was not registered. Nor was she baptised. Same with the next child, Alice, by which time they had moved on to Trowbridge in Wiltshire. Luckily, they eventually began to register the births (perhaps they had copped a fine!) and were visible in censuses, so they weren’t too difficult to keep tabs on. I even eventually found their marriage. In 1878, between the births of their 8^th and 9^th children, they finally tied the knot in Birmingham.

John William Beckett was himself the son of a coach trimmer, William Beckett. William had married Mary Ann Hayden…and this is where the gypsy blood enters our family line. Mary Ann hailed from Hampshire, also with family in Wiltshire, and I initially had no idea that she was a gypsy. In retrospect, it provides a good theory as to how she and William met. Gypsies, after all, often lived in vardos, the colourful little caravans that would presumably need repairs, maintenance and decorative tasks done on occasion!

I received an email around 20 years ago from a Hayden cousin explaining the family’s background and where we fit into the tree. This gelled well with what I knew and quietly blew my mind! She told me that right into the 20th Century the Haydens were maintaining the gypsy tradition of burning the vardo and all it’s contents after it’s owner died (a la Peaky Blinders!). Sadly, I had a hard drive failure and lost all my emails and therefore contact with this and many other cousins soon afterwards. A reminder to always disaster-proof all aspects of your research and back up regularly. I’m still broken-hearted about that loss two decades later, but older and wiser now.

Around 10 years ago, my mother and my maternal uncle were DNA-tested. Both of them came up with small but significant South Asian in their ethnicity results. This is a strong indicator of gypsy origins in otherwise ‘beige and boring’ completely British subjects. Sadly, it’s washed out of my genome, but at least I know it was there right up until the last generation. This is another reminder – that our genealogical family tree and our genetic family tree are not the same as one another. We don’t get DNA from every single one of our ancestors. How could we? Where would it all fit? This is why it is important to test not just yourself, but other willing members of your family. What doesn’t show up in you may show up in your sibling or parent.

So what signs of gypsy blood in the family have been apparent during my lifetime? My grandmother didn’t set much store by it all, but she’d had all that ‘nonsense’ beaten out of her by the nuns at the orphanage. That didn’t stop her however from having some strongly held superstitions which I think came from her mother. Shoes on the table were banned. I’ve not heard of this superstition anywhere outside our family. People just look at me blankly if I mention it. But it’s been passed on strongly and I cannot bear it if people put a pair of shoes on a table to this day.

My Mum was famous in the family for being great at interpreting dreams. Perhaps this was just that she was naturally intuitive. Perhaps it was that gypsy DNA making itself known. I once played the part of a palm reader at the village fête as a teenager to raise money for the Youth Club. It felt natural, the ‘fortunes’ just flowed and I loved doing it, but I don’t have that DNA. I just love playing dress-ups and had no trouble reading what the customers needed to hear!

Do you have any ancestors who moved about a lot, and seemed to avoid marking significant life events through the official channels? Do census entries show different birthplaces for many of the children? Does the DNA of you or anyone else in your family show more than a smidge of South Asian ethnicity? Consider the possibility that you may have some gypsy blood in your family.