A DISQUISITION ON THE PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE OF GIPSYDOM. (continued 2)

The admission of the good man alluded to casts a flood of light upon the history of the Scottish Gipsy race, shrouded as it is from the eye of the general population; but the information given by him was apt to fall flat upon the ear of the ordinary native, unless it was accompanied by some such exposition of the subject as is given in this work. Still, we can gather from it, where Gipsies are to be found, what a Scottish Gipsy is, and what the race is capable of; and what might be expected of it, if the prejudice of their fellow-creatures was withdrawn from the race, as distinguished from the various classes into which it may be divided, or, I should rather say, the personal conduct of each Gipsy individually. View the subject any way I may, I cannot resist coming to the conclusion that, under more favourable circumstances, it is difficult to say what the Gipsies might not attain to. But that would depend greatly upon the country in which they are to be found. Scotland has been peculiarly favourable for them, in some respects.

As regards the Scottish Gipsy population, at the present day, I can only adopt the language of the immortal Dominie Sampson, and say, that it must be “prodigious.” If we consider the number that appear to have settled in Scotland, the length of time they have been in Scotland, the great amount of white blood that has, by one means or other, been brought into, and mixed up with, the body, and its great natural encrease; the feelings that attach them to their descent—feelings that originate, more properly, within themselves, and feelings that press upon them from without—the various occupations and positions in life in which they are to be found; we cannot set any limit to their number. Gipsies are just like other people; they have their own sets or circles of associates, out of which, as a thing that is almost invariable, they will hide, if not deny, themselves to others of their race, for reasons which have already been given. So almost invariable is this, at the present day, amongst Gipsies that are not tented Gipsies, that, should an English Gipsy come across a settlement of them in America—German Gipsies, for example—and cast his sign, and address them in their own speech, they will pretend not to know what he means, although he sees the Gipsy in their faces and about their dwellings. But should he meet with them away from their homes, and where they are not known, they would answer, and be cheek-by-jowl with him, in a moment. I have found, by personal experience, that the same holds with the French and other continental Gipsies in America.[283] It is particularly so with the Scottish Gipsies. For these reasons, it seems to be beyond question that the number at which our author estimates them in Scotland, viz., 5,000, must be vastly below the real number. If I were to say 100,000, I do not think I would over-estimate them. The opinion of the Gipsies whom our author questioned was a guess, so far as it referred to the class to which they belonged, or with which they were acquainted; so that, if we take all kinds of Gipsies into account, it would be a very moderate estimate to set the Scottish Gipsies down at 100,000; and those in all the British Isles at 300,000. The number might be double what I have stated. The intelligent English Gipsies say that, in England, they are not only “dreadfully mixed,” but extremely numerous. There is not a race of men on the face of the earth more prolific than tented Gipsies; in a word, tented Gipsydom, if I may hazard such an expression, is, comparatively speaking, like a rabbit warren. The rough and uncouth kind of settled Gipsies are likewise very prolific; but the higher classes, as a rule, are by no means so much so. To set down any specific number of Gipsies to be found in the British Isles, would be a thing too arbitrary to serve any purpose; I think sufficient data have been given to enable the intelligent reader to form an opinion for himself.[284]

That many Gipsies were banished to America, in colonial times, from England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, sometimes for merely being “by habit and repute Gipsies,” is beyond dispute. “Your Welsh and Irish,” said an English Gipsy, in the United States, “were so mean, when they banished a Gipsy to the Plantations, as to make him find his own passage; but the English always paid the Gipsy’s passage for him.” The Scotch seem also to have made the Gipsy find his own passage, and failing that, to have hanged him. It greatly interests the English Gipsies arriving in America, to know about the native American Gipsies. I have been frequently in the company of an English Gipsy, in America, whose great-grandfather was so banished; but he did not relish the subject being spoken of. Gipsies may be said to have been in America almost from the time of its settlement. We have already seen how many of them found their way there, during the Revolution, by being impressed as soldiers, and taken as volunteers, for the benefit of the bounty and passage; and how they deserted on landing. Tented Gipsies have been seen about Baltimore for the last seventy years. In New England, a colony is known which has existed for about a hundred years, and has always been looked upon with a singular feeling of distrust and mystery by the inhabitants, who are the descendants of the early emigrants, and who did not suspect their origin till lately. These Gipsies have never associated, in the common sense of the word, with the other settlers, and, judging from their exterior, seem poor and miserable, whatever their circumstances may be. They follow pretty much the employment and modes of life of the same class in Europe; the most striking feature being, that the bulk of them leave the homestead for a length of time, scatter in different directions, and reunite, periodically, at their quarters, which are left in charge of some of the feeble members of the band.

It is not likely that many of the colonial Gipsies would take to the tent; for, arriving, for the most part, as individuals, separated from family relations, they were more apt to follow settled, semi-settled, or general itinerant occupations; and the more so, as the face of the country, and the thin and scattered settlements, would hardly admit of it. They were apt to squat on wild or unoccupied lands, in the neighbourhood of towns and settlements, like their brethren in Europe, when they took up their quarters on the borders of well-settled districts, with a wild country to fall back on, in times of danger or prosecution by the lawful authorities. Besides disposing of themselves, to some little extent, in this way, many of the Gipsies, banished, or going to the colonies of their own accord, would betake themselves to the various occupations common to the ordinary emigrants; the more especially as, when they arrived, they would find a field in which they were not known to be Gipsies; which would give them greater scope and confidence, and enable them to go anywhere, or enter upon any employment, where, not being known to be Gipsies, they would meet with no prejudice to contend with. Indeed, a new country, in which the people had, more or less, to be, in a sense, tinkers, that is, jacks-of-all-trades, and masters of none, was just the sphere of a handy Gipsy, who could “do a’ most of things.” They would turn to the tinkering, peddling, horse-dealing, tavern-keeping, and almost all the ordinary mechanical trades, and, among others, broom-making. Perhaps the foundation of the American broom manufacture was laid by the British Gipsies, by whom it may be partly carried on at the present day; a business they pretty much monopolize, in a rough way, in Great Britain. We will doubtless find, among the fraternity, some of those whittling, meddling Sam Slick peddlers, so often described: I have seen some of those itinerant venders of knife-sharpeners, and such “Yankee notions,” with dark, glistening eyes, that would “pass for the article.” Some of them would live by less legitimate business. I entertain no doubt, what from the general fitness of things, and the appearance of some of the men, that we will find some of the descendants of the old British mixed Gipsies members of the various establishments of Messrs. Peter Funks and Company,[285] of the city of New York, as well as elsewhere. And I entertain as little doubt that many of those American women who tell fortunes, and engage in those many curious bits of business that so often come up at trials, are descendants of the British plantation stock of Gipsies. But there are doubtless many of these Gipsies in respectable spheres of life. It would be extremely unreasonable to say that the descendants of the colonial Gipsies do not still exist as Gipsies, like their brethren in Great Britain, and other parts of the Old World. The English Gipsies in America entertain no doubt of it; the more especially as they have encountered such Gipsies, of at least two descents. I have myself met with such a Gipsy, following a decidedly respectable calling, whom I found as much one of the tribe, barring the original habits, as perhaps any one in Europe.

There are many Hungarian and German Gipsies in America; some of them long settled in Pennsylvania and Maryland, where they own farms. Some of them leave their farms in charge of hired hands, during the summer, and proceed South with their tents. In the State of Pennsylvania, there is a settlement of them, on the J—— river, a little way above H——, where they have saw-mills. About the Alleghany Mountains, there are many of the tribe, following somewhat the original ways of the race. In the United States generally, there are many Gipsy peddlers, British as well as continental. There are a good many Gipsies in New York—English, Irish, and continental—some of whom keep tin, crockery, and basket stores; but these are all mixed Gipsies, and many of them of fair complexion. The tin-ware which they make is generally of a plain, coarse kind; so much so, that a Gipsy tin store is easily known. They frequently exhibit their tin-ware and baskets on the streets, and carry them about the city. Almost all, if not all, of those itinerant cutlers and tinkers, to be met with in New York, and other American cities, are Gipsies, principally German, Hungarian, and French. There are a good many Gipsy musicians in America. “What!” said I, to an English Gipsy, “those organ-grinders?” “Nothing so low as that. Gipsies don’t grind their music, sir; they make it.” But I found in his house, when occupied by other Gipsies, a hurdy-gurdy and tambourine; so that Gipsies sometimes grind music, as well as make it. I know of a Hungarian Gipsy who is leader of a Negro musical band, in the city of New York; his brother drives one of the Avenue cars. There are a number of Gipsy musicians in Baltimore, who play at parties, and on other occasions. Some of the fortune-telling Gipsy women about New York will make as much as forty dollars a week in that line of business. They generally live a little way out of the city, into which they ride, in the morning, to their places of business. I know of one, who resides in New Jersey, opposite New York, and who has a place in the city, to which ladies, that is, females of the highest classes, address their cards, for her to call upon them. When she gets a chance of a young fellow with his female friend, she “puts the screws on;” for she knows well that he dare not “back out;” so she frequently manages to squeeze five dollars out of him.

Many hundred, perhaps several thousand, of English tented, and partly tented Gipsies, have arrived in America within the last ten years. They, for the most part, travel, and have travelled every State in the Union, east of the Rocky Mountains, as well as the British Provinces, as horse-dealers, peddlers, doctors, exhibitors, fortune-tellers, and tramps generally. Such English Gipsies, above all men in America, may, with the greatest propriety, say,

The fortune-tellers, every time they set out on their peregrinations, choose a new route; for they say it is more difficult to go over the same ground in America, than it is in England. The horse-dealers say that Jonathan is a good judge of a horse; that sometimes they get the advantage of him, and sometimes he of them; but that his demand for a warranty sometimes bothers them a deal. “What then?” I asked. “Well, we give him a warranty; and should the beast happen to turn out wrong, let him catch us if he can!” It is really astonishing how sensibly these English Gipsies talk of American affairs generally; they are very discriminating in their remarks, and wonderfully observant of places and localities. They do not like the Negroes. In their society they drop the name of king, and adopt that of president. “Cunning fellows,” said I, “to eschew the name of king, and look down upon Negroes. That will do, in America!”

I have found the above kind of Gipsies, in America, to be generally pretty well off; they all seem to flourish, and have plenty of money about them. The fortune-telling, horse-dealing, and peddling branches of them have a fine field for following their respective businesses. America, indeed, is a “great country” for the Gipsies; for it contains “no end” of chickens, to say nothing of ducks, geese, and turkeys, many of which are carried off by varmint, anyhow. There, they will find, for some time, many opportunities of gathering rich harvests, among what has been termed the shrewdest, but, in some things, the most gullible, of mortals, as an instance may illustrate. A Gipsy woman, known as such, drags, into the meshes of her necromancy, ‘cute Jonathan; who, with an infinite reliance on his own smartness, to “try the skill of the critter,” by her directions, ties up, in gold and paper, something like a thousand dollars, and, after she has passed her hands over it, and muttered a few cabalistic words, deposits it in his strong box. She sets a day, on which she calls, handles the “dimes,” while muttering some more expressions, rather accidentally drops them, then returns them to the box, and sets another day when she will call, and add much to his wealth. She does not appear, however, on the day mentioned. Our simpleton gets first anxious, then excited, then suspicious, then examines his “pile,” and finds it transformed into a lot of copper and old paper! For, in dropping the parcel, Meg does it adroitly about the folds of her dress, quickly substitutes another, exactly alike, and makes off with the fruits of her labour. Then come the hue and cry, telegraphing, and dispatching of warrants everywhere. But why need he trouble himself? So, after a harder day’s work than, perhaps, he ever underwent in his life, he returns home: but knowing the sympathy he will find there, he puts on his best face, and, to have the first word of it, (for he is not to be laughed at,) wipes his forehead, twitches his mouth, winks his eyes, and remarks: “Waal, I reckon I’ve been most darnedly sold, anyhow!” Such occurrences are very common among almost all classes of rural Americans. Sometimes it is to discover treasure on the individual’s lands, or in the neighbourhood; sometimes a mine, and sometimes an Indian, a trapper, a pirate, or a revolutionary deposit. When the Gipsy escapes with her spoil, she frequently makes for her home, but where that is, no one knows. On being molested, while there, she produces friends, in fair standing, who prove an alibi; and, with the further assistance of a well-feed lawyer, defies all the requisitions, made by the governors of neighbouring States, for her delivery. At other times, she will divide with the inferior authorities, or surrender the whole of the plunder; for, to go to jail she will not, if she can help it.[286]

In Virginia, the more original kind of Gipsies are very frequently to be met with. It is in the Slave States they are more apt to flourish in the olden form. The planters need not trouble themselves about their tampering with the Negroes, for they have no sympathy with them. Were it otherwise, they would soon be mum, on finding what the results would be to them. I have given some of them some useful hints on that score. The general disposition of the people, the want of learning among so many of them, the distances between dwellings, the small villages, the handy mechanical services of the Gipsies, the uncultivated tracts of land, the game of various kinds, and the climate, seem to point out some of the Slave States as an elysium for the Gipsies; unless the wealthier part of the inhabitants should use the poorer class as tools to drive them out of the country.[287]

There are a good many very respectable Scottish Gipsies in the United States; but I do not wish to be too minute in describing them. In Canada, I know of a doctor, a lawyer, and an editor, Scottish Gipsies. The fact of the matter is, that, owing to the mixture of the blood, the improvement, and perpetuation, and secrecy, of the race, there may be many, very many, Gipsies, in almost every place in the world, and other people not know of it: and it is not likely that, at the present time, they will say that they are Gipsies. Indeed, the intelligent English travelling Gipsies say that there are an immense number of Gipsies, of all countries, colours, and occupations, in America.

There is even some resemblance between the formation of Gipsydom and that of the United States. The children of emigrants, it is well known, frequently prove the most ultra Americans. Instead of the original colonists, at the Declaration of Independence, imagine the commencement of Gipsydom as proceeding from the original stock of Gipsies. The addition to their number, from without, differs from that which takes place among Americans, in this way: that all such additions to Gipsydom are made in such a manner, that the new blood gets innoculated, as it were, with the old, or part of the old; so that it may be said of the whole body,

One drop of blood makes all Gipsydom akin.

The simple fact of a person having Gipsy blood in his veins, in addition to the rearing of a Gipsy parent, acts upon him like a shock of electricity; it makes him spring to his feet, and—“snap his teeth at other dogs!” A very important circumstance contributing to this state of things is the antipathy which mankind have for the very name of Gipsy, which, as I have already said, they all take to themselves; insomuch that the better class will not face it. They imagine that, socially speaking, they are among the damned, and they naturally cast their lot with the damned. Still, the antagonistic spirit which would naturally arise towards society, in the minds of such Gipsies, remains, in a measure, latent; for they feel confident in their incognito, while moving among their fellow-creatures; which circumstance robs it of its sting.

Let a Lowlander, in times that are past, but have cast up a Highlander’s blood to him, and what would have been the consequences? “Her ainsel would have drawn her dirk, or whipped out her toasting-iron, and seen which was the prettiest man.” Let the same have been done to a Scottish Gipsy, in comparatively recent times, and he would have taken his own peculiar revenge. See how the Baillies, as mentioned under the chapter of Tweed-dale and Clydesdale Gipsies, mounted on horseback, and with drawn swords in their hands, threatened death to all who opposed them, for an affront offered to their mother. Twit a respectable Gipsy with his blood, at the present day, and he would suffer in silence; for, by getting into a passion, he would let himself out. For this reason, it would be unmanly to hint it to him, in any tone of disparagement. The difference of feeling between the two races, at the present day, proceeds from positive ignorance on the part of the native towards the other; an ignorance in which the Gipsy would rather allow him to remain; for, let him turn himself in whatever direction he may, he imagines he sees, and perhaps does see, nothing but a dark mountain of prejudice existing between him and every other of his fellow-creatures. He would rather retain his incognito, and allow his race to go down to posterity shrouded in its present mystery. The history of the Gipsy race in Scotland, more, perhaps, than in any other country, shows, to the eye of the world, as few traces of its existence as would a fox, in passing over a ploughed field. The farmer might see the foot-prints of reynard, but how is he to find reynard himself? He must bring out the dogs and have a hunt for him. As an Indian of the prairie, while on the “war path,” cunningly arranges the long grass into its natural position, as he passes through it, to prevent his enemy following him, so has the Scottish Gipsy, as he entered upon a settled life, destroyed, to the eye of the ordinary native, every trace of his being a Gipsy. Still, I cannot doubt but that he has misgivings that, some day, he will be called up to judgment, and that all about him will be exposed to the world.

What is it that troubles the educated Gipsies? Nothing but the word Gipsy; a word which, however sweet when used among themselves, conveys an ugly, blackguard, and vagabond meaning to other people. The poet asks, What is there in a name? and I reply, Everything, as regards the name Gipsy. For a respectable Scottish Gipsy to say to the public, that “his mother is a Gipsy,” or, that “his wife is a Gipsy,” or, that “he is a Gipsy;” such a Gipsy simply could not do it. These Gipsies will hardly ever use the word among themselves, except in very select circles; but they will say “he’s one of us;” “he’s from Yetholm;” “he’s from the metropolis,” (Yetholm being the metropolis of Scottish Gipsydom;) or, “he’s a traveller.” If the company is not over classical, they will say “he’s from the black quarry,” or, “he’s been with the cuddies.” Imagine a select party of educated Scottish Gipsies, all closely related. They will then chatter Gipsy over their tea; but if a person should drop in, one of the party, who is not acquainted with him, will nudge and whisper to another, “Is he one of the tribe?” or, “Is he one of us?” The better class of Scottish Gipsies are very exclusive in matters of this kind.

All things considered, in what other position could the Gipsy race, in Scotland especially, be, at the present day, than that described? How can we imagine a race of people to act otherwise than hide themselves, if they could, from the odium that attaches to the name of Gipsy? And what estimate should we place on that charity which would lead a person to denounce a Gipsy, should he deny himself to be a Gipsy?[288] As a race, what can they offer to society at large to receive them within its circle? They can offer little, as a race; but, if we consider them as individuals, we will find many of them whose eduction, character, and position in life, would warrant their admission into any ordinary society, and some of them into any society. Notwithstanding all that, none will answer up to the name of Gipsy. It necessarily follows, that the race must remain shrouded in its present mystery, unless some one, not of the race, should become acquainted with its history, and speak for it. In Scotland, the prejudice towards the name of Gipsy might be safely allowed to drop, were it only for this reason: that the race has got so much mixed up with the native blood, and even with good families of the country, as to be, in plain language, a jumble—a pretty kettle of fish, indeed. One’s uncle, in seeking for a wife, might have stumbled over an Egyptian woman, and, either known or unknown to himself, had his children brought up bitter Gipsies; so that one’s cousins may be Gipsies, for anything one knows. A man may have a colony of Gipsies in his own house, and know nothing about it! The Gipsies died out? Oh, no. They commenced in Scotland by wringing the necks of one’s chickens, and now they sometimes . . . . . . ! But what is Gipsydom, after all, but a “working in among other people?”

In seeking for Gipsies among Scotch people, I know where to begin, but it puzzles me where to leave off. I would pay no regard to colour of hair or eyes, character, employment, position, or, indeed, any outward thing. The reader may say: “It must be a difficult matter to detect such mixed and educated Gipsies as those spoken of.” It is not only difficult, but outwardly impossible. Such Gipsies cannot even tell each other, from their personal appearance; but they have signs, which they can use, if the others choose to respond to them. If I go into a company which I have reason to believe is a Gipsy one, and it know nothing of me, so far as my pursuit is concerned, I will bring the subject of the Gipsies up, in a very roundabout way, and mark the effect which the conversation makes, or the turn it takes. What I know of the subject, and of the ignorance of mankind generally in regard to it, enables me to say, in almost every instance, who they are, let them make any remark they like, look as they like, pretend what they like, wriggle about as they like, or keep dead silent. As I gradually glide into the subject, and expatiate upon the “greatness of the society,” one remarks, “I know it;” upon the “respectability of some of its members,” and another emphatically exclaims, “That’s a fact;” and upon “its universality,” and another bawls out, “That’s so.” Indeed, by finding the Gipsies, under such circumstances, completely off their guard, (for they do not doubt their secret being confined to themselves,) I can generally draw forth, in one way or other, as much moral certainty, barring their direct admission, as to their being Gipsies, as a dog, by putting his nose into a hole, can tell whether a rat is there, or not.

The principle of the transmutation of Gipsy blood into white, in appearance, is illustrated, in the ninth chapter of Mr. Borrow’s “Bible in Spain,” by its changing into almost pure black. A Gipsy soldier, in the Spanish army, killed his sergeant, for “calling him calo, (Gipsy,) and cursing him,” and made his escape. His wife remained in the army, as a sutler, selling wine. Two years thereafter, a strange man came to her wine shop. “He was dressed like a Moor, (corahano,) and yet he did not look like one; he looked more like a black, and yet he was not a black, either, though he was almost black. And, as I looked upon him, I thought he looked something like the Errate, (Gipsies,) and he said to me, ‘Zincali, chachipé,’ (the Gipsy salutation.) And then he whispered to me, in queer language, which I could scarcely understand,’Your husband is waiting; come with me, my little sister, and I will take you to him.’ About a league from the town, beneath a hill, we found four people, men and women, all very black, like the strange man; and we joined ourselves with them, and they all saluted me, and called me ‘little sister.’ And away we marched, for many days, amidst deserts and small villages. The men would cheat with mules and asses, and the women told baji. I often asked him (her husband) about the black men, and he told me that he believed them to be of the Errate.” Her husband, then a soldier in the Moorish army, having been killed, this Gipsy woman married the black man, with whom she followed real Gipsy life. She said to him: “Sure I am amongst the Errate; . . . . and I often said that they were of the Errate; and then they would laugh, and say that it might be so; and that they were not Moors, (corahai,) but they could give no account of themselves.” From this it would seem that, while preserving their identity, wherever they go, there are Gipsies who may not be known to the world, or to the tribe, in other continents, by the same name.[289]

A word upon the universality of the Gipsies. English Gipsies, on arriving in America, feel quite taken aback, on coming across a tent or wigwam of Indians. “Didn’t you feel,” said I to some of them, “very like a dog when he comes across another dog, a stranger to him?” And, with a laugh, they said, “Exactly so.” After looking awhile at the Indians, they will approach them, and “cast their sign, and salute them in Gipsy;” and if no response is made, they will pass on. They then come to learn who the Indians are. The same curiosity is excited among the Gipsies on meeting with the American farmer, on the banks of the Mississippi or Missouri; who, in travelling to market, in the summer, will, to save expenses, unyoke his horses, at mid-day or evening, at the edge of the forest, light his fire, and prepare his meal. What with the “kettle and tented wagon,” the tall, lank, bony, and swarthy appearance of the farmer, the Gipsy will approach him, as he did the Indian; and pass on, when no response is made to his sign and salutation. Under such circumstances, the Gipsy would cast his sign, and give his salutation, whether on the banks of the Mississippi or the Ganges. Nay, a very respectable Scottish Gipsy boasted to me, that, by his signs alone, he could push his way to the wall of China, and even through China itself. And there are doubtless Gipsies in China. Mr. Borrow says, that when he visited the tribe at Moscow, they supposed him to be one of their brothers, who, they said, were wandering about in Turkey, China, and other parts. It is very likely that Russian Gipsies have visited China, by the route taken by Russian traders, and met with Gipsies there.[290] But it tickles the Gipsy most, when it is insinuated, that if Sir John Franklin had been fortunate in his expedition, he would have found a Gipsy tinkering a kettle at the North Pole.

The particulars of a meeting between English and American Gipsies are interesting. Some English Gipsies were endeavouring to sell some horses, in Annapolis, in the State of Maryland, to what had the appearance of being respectable American farmers; who, however, spoke to each other in the Gipsy language, dropping a word now and then, such as “this is a good one,” and so on. The English Gipsies felt amazed, and at last said: “What is that you are saying? Why, you are Gipsies!” Upon this, the Americans wheeled about, and left the spot as fast as they could. Had the English Gipsies taken after the Gipsy in their appearance, they would not have caused such a consternation to their American brethren, who showed much of “the blood” in their countenances; but as, from their blood being much mixed, they did not look like Gipsies, they gave the others a terrible fright, on their being found out. The English Gipsies said they felt disgusted at the others not owning themselves up. But I told them they ought rather to have felt proud of the Americans speaking Gipsy, as it was the prejudice of the world that led them to hide their nationality. On making enquiry in the neighbourhood, they found that these American Gipsies had been settled there since, at least, the time of their grandfather, and that they bore an English name.

There are Scottish Gipsies in the United States, following respectable callings, who speak excellent Gipsy, according to the judgment of intelligent English Gipsies. The English Gipsies say the same of the Gipsy families in Scotland, with whom they are acquainted; but that some of their words vary from those spoken in England. There is, however, a rivalry between the English and Scottish Gipsies, as to whose pronunciation of the words is the correct one: in that respect, they somewhat resemble the English and Scottish Latinists. One intelligent Gipsy gave it as his opinion, that the word great, baurie, in Scotland, was softer than boro, in England, and preferable, indeed, the right pronunciation of the word. The German Gipsies are said, by their English brethren, to speak Gipsy backwards; from which I would conclude, that it follows the construction of the German language, which differs so materially, in that respect, from the English.[291] It is a thing well-nigh impossible, to get a respectable Scottish Gipsy to own up to even a word of the Gipsy language. On meeting with a respectable—Scotchman, I will call him—in a company, lately, I was asked by him: “Are ye a’ Tinklers?” “We’re travellers,” I replied. “But who is he?” he continued, pointing to my acquaintance. Going up to him, I whispered “His dade is a baurie grye-femler,” (his father is a great horse-dealer;) and he made for the door, as if a bee had got into his ear. But he came back; oh, yes, he came back. There was a mysterious whispering of “pistols and coffee,” at another time.

It is beyond doubt that the Gipsy language in Great Britain is broken, but not so broken as to consist of words only; it consists, rather, of expressions, or pieces, which are tacked together by native words—generally small words—which are lost to the ordinary ear, when used in conversation. In that respect, the use of Gipsy may be compared to the revolutions of a wheel: we know that the wheel has spokes, but, in its velocity, we cannot distinguish the colour or material of each individual spoke; it is only when it stands still that that can be done. In the same manner, when we come to examine into the British Gipsy language, we perceive its broken nature. But it still serves the purpose of a speech. Let any one sit among English Gipsies, in America, and hear them converse, and he cannot pick up an idea, and hardly a word which they say. “I have always thought Dutch bad enough,” said an Irishman, who has often heard English Gipsies, in the State of New Jersey, speak among themselves; “but Gipsy is perfect gibble-gabble, like ducks and geese, for anything I can make of it.” Some Gipsies can, of course, speak Gipsy much better than others. It is most unlikely that the Scottish Gipsies, with the head, the pride, and the tenacity of native Scotch, would be the first to forget the Gipsy language. The sentiments of the people themselves are very emphatic on that head. “It will never be forgotten, sir; it is in our hearts, and, as long as a single Tinkler exists, it will be remembered,” (page 297.) “So long as there existed two Gipsies in Scotland, it would never be lost,” (page 316.) The English Gipsies admit that the language is more easily preserved in a settled life, but more useful to travelling and out-door Gipsies; and that it is carefully kept up by both classes of Gipsies. This information agrees with our author’s, in regard to the settled Scottish Gipsies. There is one very strong motive, among many, for the Gipsies keeping up their language, and that is, as I have already said, their self-respect. The best of them believe that it is altogether problematical how they would be received in society, were they to make an avowal of their being Gipsies, and lay bare the history of their race to the world. The prejudice that exists against the race, and against them, they imagine, were they known to be Gipsies, drives them back on that language which belongs exclusively to themselves; to say nothing of the dazzling hold which it takes of their imagination, as they arrive at years of reflection, and consider that the people speaking it have been transplanted from some other clime. The more intelligent the Gipsy, the more he thinks of his speech, and the more care he takes of it.

People often reprobate the dislike, I may say the hatred, which the more original Gipsy entertains for society; forgetting that society itself has had the greatest share in the origin of it. When the race entered Europe, they are not presumed to have had any hatred towards their fellow-creatures.[292] That hatred, doubtless, sprang from the severe reception, and universal persecution, which, owing to the singularity of their race and habits, they everywhere met with. The race then became born into that state of things. What would subsequent generations know of the origin of the feud? All that they knew was, that the law made them outlaws and outcasts; that they were subject, as Gipsies, to be hung, before they were born. Such a Gipsy might be compared to Pascal’s man springing up out of an island: casting his eyes around him, he finds nothing but a legal and social proscription hanging over his head, in whatever direction he may turn. Whatever might be assumed to have been the original, innate disposition of a Gipsy, the circumstances attending him, from his birth to his death, were certainly not calculated to improve him, but to make him much worse than he might otherwise have been. The worst that can be said of the Scottish Gipsies, in times past, has been stated by our author. With all their faults, we find a vein of genuine nobility of character running through all their actions, which is the more worthy of notice, considering that they were at war with society, and society at war with them. Not the least important feature is that of gratitude for kind and hospitable treatment. In that respect, a true Scottish Gipsy has always been as true as steel; and that is saying a great deal in his favour. The instance given by our author, (pages 361-363,) is very touching, and to the point. I do not know how it may be, at the present day, in Scotland, where are to be found so many Irish Gipsies, of whom the Scottish and English Gipsies have not much good to say, notwithstanding the assistance they render each other when they meet, (page 324.) If the English farmers are questioned, I doubt not that a somewhat similar testimony will be borne to the English Gipsies, to this extent, at least, that, when civilly and hospitably treated, and personally acquainted, they will respect the farmers’ property, and even keep others off it. Indeed, both Scottish and English Gipsies call this “Gipsy law.” It is certainly not the Scottish Gipsies, or, I may venture to say, the English Gipsies, to whom Mr. Borrow’s words may be applied, when he says: “I have not expatiated on their gratitude towards good people, who treat them kindly, and take an interest in their welfare; for I believe, that, of all beings in the world, they are the least susceptible of such a feeling.” Such a character may apply to the Spanish Gipsies for anything I know to the contrary; and the causes to which it may be attributed must be the influences which the Spanish character, and general deportment towards the tribe, have exercised over them. In speaking of the bloody and wolfish disposition which especially characterizes the Gitanos, Mr. Borrow says: “The cause to which this must be attributed, must be their residence in a country, unsound in every branch of its civil polity, where right has ever been in less esteem, and wrong in less disrepute, than in any other part of the world.” Grellmann bears as poor testimony to the character of the Hungarian Gipsies, in the matter of gratitude, as Mr. Borrow does to the Spanish Gipsies, to whom I apprehend his remarks are intended to apply. But both of these authors give an opinion, unaccompanied by facts. Their opinion may be correct, however, so far as it is applicable to the class of Gipsies, or the individuals, to whom they refer. Gratitude is even a characteristic of the lower animals. “For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed and hath been tamed of mankind,” saith St. James; the means of attaining to which is frequently kindness. I doubt not that the same can be said of Gipsies anywhere; for surely we can expect to find as much gratitude in them as can be called forth from things that creep, fly, or swim in the sea. It is unreasonable, however, to look for much gratitude from such Gipsies as the two authors in question have evidently alluded to; for this reason: that it is a virtue rarely to be met with from those “to whom much has been given;” and, consequently, very little should be required of those to whom nothing has been given, in the estimation of their fellow-creatures. In doing a good turn to a Gipsy, it is not the act itself that calls forth, or perhaps merits, a return in gratitude; but it is the way in which it is done: for, while he is doubtless being benefited, he is, frequently if not generally, as little sympathized with, personally, as if he were some loathsome creature to which something had been thrown.

As regards the improvement of the Gipsies, I would make the following suggestions: The facts and principles of the present work should be thoroughly canvassed and imprinted upon the public mind, and an effort made to bring, if possible, our high-class Gipsies to own themselves up to be Gipsies. The fact of these Gipsies being received into society, and respected, as Gipsies, (as it is with them, at present, as men,) could not fail to have a wonderful effect upon many of the humble, ignorant, or wild ones. They would perceive, at once, that the objections which the community had to them, proceeded, not from their being Gipsies, but from their habits, only. What is the feeling which Gipsies, who are known to be Gipsies, have for the public at large? The white race, as a race, is simply odious to them, for they know well the dreadful prejudice which it bears towards them. But let some of their own race, however mixed the blood might be, be respected as Gipsies, and it would, in a great measure, break down, at least in feeling, the wall of caste that separates them from the community at large. This is the first, the most important, step to be taken to improve the Gipsies, whatever may be the class to which they belong. Let the prejudice be removed, and it is impossible to say what might not follow. Before attempting to reform the Gipsies, we ought to reform, or, at least, inform, mankind in regard to them; and endeavour to reconcile the world to them, before we attempt to reconcile them to the world; and treat them as men, before we try to make them Christians. The poor Gipsies know well that there are many of their race occupying respectable positions in life; perhaps they do not know many, or even any, of them, personally, but they believe in it thoroughly. Still, they will deny it, at least hide it from strangers, for this reason, among others, that it is a state to which their children, or even they themselves, look forward, as ultimately awaiting them, in which they will manage to escape from the odium of their fellow-creatures, which clings to them in their present condition. The fact of the poor travelling Gipsies knowing of such respectable settled Gipsies, gives them a certain degree of respect in their own eyes, which leads them to repel any advance from the other race, let it come in almost whatever shape it may. The white race, as I have already said, is perfectly odious to them. This is exactly the position of the question. The more original kind of Gipsies feel that the prejudice which exists against the race to which they belong is such, that an intercourse cannot be maintained between them and the other inhabitants; or, if it does exist, it is of so clandestine a nature, that their appearance, and, it may be, their general habits, do not allow or lead them to indulge in it. I will make a few more remarks on this subject further on in this treatise.

What are the respectable, well-disposed Scottish Gipsies but Scotch people, after all? They are to be met with in almost every, if not every, sphere in which the ordinary Scot is to be found. The only difference between the two is, that, however mixed the blood of these Gipsies may be, their associations of descent and tribe go back to those black, mysterious heroes who entered Scotland, upwards of three hundred and fifty years ago; and that, with this descent, they have the words and signs of Gipsies. The possession of all these, with the knowledge of the feelings which the ordinary natives have for the very name of Gipsy, makes the only distinction between them and other Scotchmen. I do not say that the world would have any prejudice against these Gipsies, as Gipsies, still, they are morbidly sensitive that it would have such a feeling. The light of reason, of civilization, of religion, and the genius of Britons, forbid such an idea. What object more worthy of civilization, and of the age in which we live, than that such Gipsies would come forward, and, by their positions in society, their talents and characters, dispel the mystery and gloom that hang over the history of the Gipsy race!

But will these Gipsies do that? I have my misgivings. They may not do it now, but I am sanguine enough to think that it is an event that may take place at some future time. The subject must, in the meantime, be thoroughly investigated, and the mind of the public fully prepared for such a movement. The Gipsies themselves, to commence with, should furnish the public with information, anonymously, so far as they are personally concerned, or confidentially, through a person of standing, who can guarantee the trustworthiness of the Gipsy himself. I do not expect that they would give us any of the language; but they can furnish us with some idea of the position which the Gipsies occupy in the world, and throw a great deal of light upon the history of the race in Scotland, in, at least, comparatively recent times. In anticipation of such an occurrence, I would make this suggestion to them: that they must be very careful what they say, on account of the “court holding them interested witnesses;” and, whatever they may do, to deny nothing connected with the Gipsies. They certainly have kept their secret well; indeed, they have considered the subject, so far as the public is concerned, as dead and buried long ago. It is of no use, however, Gipsies; “murder will out;” the game is up; it is played out. I may say to you what the hunter said to the ‘coon, or rather what the ‘coon said to the hunter: “You may just as well come down the tree.” Yes! come down the tree; you have been too long up; come down, and let us know all about you.[293]

Scottish Gipsies! I now appeal to you as men. Am I not right, in asserting, that there is nothing you hold more dear than your Egyptian descent, signs, and language? And nothing you more dread than such becoming known to your fellow-men around you? Do you not read, with the greatest interest, any and everything printed, which comes in your way, about the Gipsies, and say, that you thank God all that is a thousand miles away from you? Whence this inconsistency? Ah! I understand it well. Shall the prejudice of mankind towards the name of Gipsy drive you from the position which you occupy? Can it drive you from it? No, it cannot. The Gipsies, you know, are a people; a “mixed multitude,” no doubt, but still a people. You know you are Gipsies, for your parents before you were Gipsies, and, consequently, that you cannot be anything but Gipsies. What effect, then, has the prejudice against the race upon you? Does it not sometimes appear to you as if, figuratively speaking, it would put a dagger into your hands against the rest of your species, should they discover that you belonged to the tribe? Or that it would lead you to immediately “take to your beds,” or depart, bed and baggage, to parts unknown? But then, Gipsies, what can you do? The thought of it makes you feel as if you were sheep. Some of you may be bold enough to face a lion in the flesh; but who so bold as to own to the world that he is a Gipsy? There is just one of the higher class that I know of, and he was a noble specimen of a man, a credit to human nature itself. Although you might shrink from such a step, would you not like, and cannot you induce, some one to take it? Take my word for it, respectable Scottish Gipsies, the thing that frightens you is, after all, a bug-bear—a scare-crow. But, failing some of you “coming out,” would you not rather that the world should now know that much of the history of the Gipsy race, as to show that it was no necessary disparagement in any of you to be a Gipsy? Would you not rather that a Gipsy might pass, anywhere, for a gentleman, as he does now, everywhere, for a vagabond; and that you and your children might, if they liked, show their true colours, than, as at present, go everywhere incog, and carry within them that secret which they are as afraid of being divulged to the world, as if you and all your kin were conspirators and murderers? The secret being out, the incognito of your race goes for nothing. Come then, Scottish Gipsy, make a clean breast of it, like a man. Which of you will exclaim,

Will none of you move? Ah! Gipsies, you are “great hens,” and no wonder.

American Gipsies, descendants of the real old British stock! I make the same appeal to you. Let the world know how you are getting on, in this land of “liberty and equality;” and whether any of your race are senators, congressmen, and what not. I have heard of a Gipsy, a sheriff in the State of Pennsylvania; and I know of a Scottish Gipsy, who was lately returned a member of the Legislature of the State of New York.

The reader may ask: Is it possible that there is a race of men, residing in the British Isles, to be counted by its hundreds of thousands, occupying such a position as that described? And I reply, Alas! it is too true. Exeter Hall may hobnob with Negroes, Hottentots, and Bosjesmen—always with something or other from a distance; but what has it ever done for the Gipsies? Nothing! It will rail at the American prejudice towards the Negro, and entirely pass over a much superior race at its own door! The prejudice against the Negro proceeds from two causes—his appearance and the servitude in which he is, or has been, held. But there can be no prejudice against the Gipsy, on such grounds. It will not do to say that the prejudice is against the tented Gipsies, only; it is against the race, root and branch, as far as it is known. What is it but that which compels the Gipsy, on entering upon a settled life, to hide himself from the unearthly prejudice of his fellow-creatures? The Englishman, the Scotchman, and the Irishman may rail at the American for his peculiar prejudices; but the latter, if he can but capitalize the idea, has, in all conscience, much to throw back upon society in the mother country. Instead of a class of the British public spending so much of their time in an agitation against an institution thousands of miles away from home, and over which they have, and can expect to have, no control, they might direct their attention to an evil laying at their own doors—that social prejudice which is so much calculated to have a blasting influence upon the condition of so many of their fellow-subjects. It is beyond doubt that there cannot be less than a quarter of a million of Gipsies in the British Isles, who are living under a grinding despotism of caste; a despotism so absolute and odious, that the people upon whom it bears cannot, as in Scotland, were it almost to save their lives, even say who they are! Let the time and talents spent on the agitation in question be transferred, for a time, into some such channel as would be implied in a “British Anti-Gipsy-prejudice Association,” and a great moral evil may disappear from the face of British society. In such a movement, there would be none of that direct or indirect interest to be encountered, which lies on the very threshold of slavery, in whatever part of the world it exists; nor would there be any occasion to appeal to people’s pockets.[294] After the work mentioned has been accomplished, the British public might turn their attention to wrongs perpetrated in other climes. Americans, however, must not attempt to seek, in the British Gipsy-prejudice, an excuse for their excessive antipathy towards Negroes. I freely admit that the dislike of white men, generally, for the Negro, lies in something that is irremovable—something that is irrespective of character, or present or previous social condition. But it is not so with the Gipsy, for his race is, physically, among the finest that are to be found on the face of the earth. Americans ought also to consider that there are plenty of Gipsies among themselves, towards whom, however, there are none of those prejudices that spring from local tradition or association, but only such as proceed from literature, and that towards the tented Gipsy.

What is to be the future of the Gipsy race? A reply to this question will be found in the history of it during the past, as described; for it resolves itself into two very simple matters of fact. In the first place, we have a foreign race, deemed, by itself, to be, as indeed it is, universal, introduced into Scotland, for example, taken root there, spread, and flourished; a race that rests upon a basis the strongest imaginable. On the other hand, there is the prejudice of caste towards the name, which those bearing it escape, only, by assuming an incognito among their fellow-creatures. These two principles, acting upon beings possessing the feelings of men, will, of themselves, produce that state of things which will constitute the history of the Gipsies during all time coming, whatever may be the changes that may come over their character and condition. They may, in course of time, lose their language, as some of them, to a great extent, have done already; but they will always retain a consciousness of being Gipsies. The language may be lost, but their signs will remain, as well as so much of their speech as will serve the purpose of pass-words. “There is something there,” said an English Gipsy of intelligence, smiting his breast, “There is something there which a Gipsy cannot explain.” And, said a Scottish Gipsy: “It will never be forgotten; as long as the world lasts, the Gipsies will be Gipsies.” What idea can be more preposterous than that of saying, that a change of residence or occupation, or a little more or less of education or wealth, or a change of character or creed, can eradicate such feeling from the heart of a Gipsy; or that these circumstances can, by any human possibility, change his descent, his tribe, or the blood that is in his body? How can we imagine this race, arriving in Europe so lately as the fifteenth century, and in Scotland the century following, with an origin so distinct from the rest of the world, and so treated by the world, can possibly have lost a consciousness of nationality in its descent, in so short a time after arrival; or, that that can happen in the future, when there are so many circumstances surrounding it to keep alive a sense of its origin, and so much within it to preserve its identity in the history of the human family? Let the future history of the world be what it may, Gipsydom is immortal.[295]

In considering the question of the Gipsies being openly admitted, as a race, into the society of mankind, I ask, what possible reason could a British subject advance against such taking place with, at least, the better kind of Scottish Gipsies? Society, generally, would not be over-ready to lessen the distance between itself and the tented Gipsies, or those who live by means really objectionable; but it should have that much sense of justice, as to confine its peculiar feelings to the ways of life of these individuals, and not keep them up against their children, when they follow different habits. If, for example, I should have made the acquaintance of some Scottish Gipsies, associated with them, and acquired a respect for them, (as has happened with me,) how could I take exceptions to them, on account of it afterwards leaking out that they were Gipsies? A sense of ordinary justice would forbid me doing so. I can see nothing objectionable in their conduct, as distinguished from that of other people; and as for their appearance, any person, on being asked to point out the Gipsy, would, so far as colour of hair and eyes goes, pitch upon many a common native, in preference to them. A sense of ordinary justice, as I have said, would disarm me of any prejudice against them; nay, it would urge me to think the more of them, on account of their being Gipsies. To the ordinary eye, they are nothing but Scotch people, and pass, everywhere, for such. There is a Scottish Gipsy in the United States, with whom I am acquainted—a liberal-minded man, and good company—who carries on a wholesale trade, in a respectable article of merchandise, and he said to me: “I will not deny it, nor am I ashamed to say it—I come from Yetholm.” And I replied: “Why should you be ashamed of it?”

It is this hereditary prejudice of centuries towards the name, that constitutes the main difficulty in the way of recognition of these Gipsies by the world generally. How long it may be since they or their ancestors left the tent, is a thing of no importance; personal character, education, and position in life, are the only things that should be considered. The Gipsies to whom I allude do not require to be reformed, unless in that sense in which all men stand in need of reformation: what is wanted is, that the world should raise up the name of Gipsy. And why should not that be done by the people of Great Britain, and Scotland especially, in whose mouths are continually these words: “God hath made of one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on all the face of the earth?” Will the British public spend its hundreds of thousands, annually, on every other creature under heaven, and refuse to countenance the Gipsy race? Will it squander its tens of thousands to convert, perhaps, on an average, one Jew, and refuse a kind word, nay, grudge a smile, towards that body, a member of which may be an official of that Missionary Society, or, it may be, the very chairman of it? I can conceive no liberal-minded Scotchman, possessing a feeling of true self-respect, entertaining a prejudice against such Gipsies. The only people in Scotland in whose mind such a prejudice might be supposed to exist, are those miserable old women around the neighbourhood of Stirling, who, under the influence of the old Highland feud, will look with the greatest contempt upon a person, if he but come from the north of the Ochils. I would class, with such old women, all of our Scotch people who would object to the Gipsies to whom I have alluded. A Scotchman should even have that much love of country, as to take hold of his own Gipsies, and “back them up” against those of other countries: and particularly should he do that, when the “Gipsies” might be his cousins, nay, his own children, for anything that he might know to the contrary. Scotch people should consider that the “Tinklers,” whom they see going about, at the present day, are, if not the very lowest kind of Gipsies, at least those who follow the original ways of their race; and are greatly inferior, not only relatively, but actually, to many of those who have gone before them. They should also consider that Gipsies are a race, however mixed the blood may be; subject, as a race, to be governed, in their descent, by those laws which regulate the descent of all races; and that a Gipsy is as much a Gipsy in a house as in a tent, in a “but and a ben” as in a palace.

Wherever a Gipsy goes, he carries his inherent peculiarities with him; and the objection to him he considers to be to something inseparable from himself—that which he cannot escape; but the confidence which he has in his incognito neutralizes, as I have already said, the feelings which such a circumstance would naturally produce. But, to disarm him altogether of this feeling, all that is necessary is to state his case, and have it admitted by the “honourable of the earth;” so that his mind may be set at perfect rest on that point. He would, doubtless, still hide the fact of his being a Gipsy, but he would enjoy, in his retreat, that inward self-respect, among his fellow-creatures, which such an admission would give him; and which is so much calculated to raise the people, generally, in every moral attribute. It is, indeed, a melancholy thing, to contemplate this cloud which hangs over such a man, as he mixes with other people, in his daily calling; but to dispel it altogether, the Gipsy himself must, in the manner described, give us some information about his race. Apart from the sense of justice which is implied in admitting these Gipsies, as Gipsies, to a social equality with others, a motive of policy should lead us to take such a step; for it can augur no good to society to have the Gipsy race residing in its midst, under the cloud that hangs over it. Let us, by a liberal and enlightened policy, at least blunt the edge of that antipathy which many of the Gipsy race have, and most naturally have, to society at large.

In receiving a Gipsy, as a Gipsy, into society, there should be no kind of officious sympathy shown him, for he is too proud to submit to be made the object of it. Should he say that he is a Gipsy, the remark ought to be received as a mere matter of course, and little notice taken of it; just as if it made no difference to the other party whether he was a Gipsy or not. A little surprise would be allowable; but anything like condolence would be out of the question. And let the Gipsy himself, rather, talk upon the subject, than a desire be shown to ask him questions, unless his remarks should allow them, in a natural way, to be put to him. As to the course to be pursued by the Gipsy, should he feel disposed to own himself up, I would advise him to do it in an off-handed, hearty manner; to show not the least appearance that he had any misgivings about any one taking exceptions to him on that account. Should he act otherwise, that is, hesitate, and take to himself shamefacedness, in making the admission, it would, perhaps, have been better for him not to have committed himself at all: for, in such a matter, it may be said, that “he that doubteth is damned.” The simple fact of a man, in Scotland, saying, after the appearance of this work there, that he is a Gipsy, if he is conscious of having the esteem of his neighbours, would probably add to his popularity among them; especially if they were men of good sense, and had before their eyes the expression of good-will of the organs of society towards the Gipsy race. Such an admission, on the part of a Gipsy, would presumptively prove, that he was a really candid and upright person; for few Scottish Gipsies, beyond those about Yetholm, would make such a confession. Having mentioned the subject, the Gipsy should allude to it, on every appropriate occasion, and boast of being in possession of those words and signs which the other is entirely ignorant of. He could well say: “What was Borrow to him, or he to Borrow; that, for his part, he could traverse the world over, and, in the centre of any continent, be received and feasted, by Gipsies, as a king.” If but one respectable Scottish Gipsy could be prevailed upon to act in this way, what an effect might it not have upon raising up the name of this singular race! But there is a very serious difficulty to be encountered in the outset of such a proceeding, and it is this, that if a Gipsy owns himself up, he necessarily “lets out,” perhaps, all his kith and kin; a regard for whom would, in all probability, keep him back. But there would be no such difficulty to be met with in the way of the Gipsy giving us information by writing. Let us, then, Gipsy, have some writing upon the Gipsies. It will serve no good purpose to keep such information back; the keeping of it back will not cast a doubt upon the facts and principles of the present work; for rest assured, Gipsy, that, upon its own merits, your secret is exploded. I would say this to you, young Scottish Gipsy; pay no regard to what that old Gipsy says, when he tells you, that “he is too old a bird to be caught with chaff in that way.”

The history of the Gipsies is the history of a people (mixed, in point of blood, as it is,) which exists; not the history of a people, like the Aborigines of North America, which has ceased to exist, or is daily ceasing to exist.[296] It is the history of a people within a people, with whom we come in contact daily, although we may not be aware of it. Any person of ordinary intelligence can have little difficulty in comprehending the subject, shrouded as it is from the eye of the world. But should he have any such difficulty, it will be dispelled by his coming in contact with a Gipsy who has the courage to own himself up to be a Gipsy. It is no argument to maintain that the Gipsy race is not a race, because its blood is mixed with other people. That can be said of all the races of Western Europe, the English more especially; and, in a much greater degree, of that of the United States of America. Every Gipsy has part of the Gipsy blood, and more or less of the words and signs; which, taken in connection with the rearing of Gipsies, act upon his mind in such a manner, that he is penetrated with the simple idea that he is a Gipsy; and create that distinct feeling of nationality which the matters of territory, and sometimes dialect, government, and laws, do with most of other races. Take a Gipsy from any country in the world you may, and the feeling of his being a Gipsy comes as naturally to him as does the nationality of a Jew to a Jew; although we will naturally give him a more definite name, to distinguish him; such as an English, Welsh, Scotch, or Irish Gipsy, or by whatever country of which the Gipsy happens to be a native.

But I am afraid that what has been said is not sufficiently explanatory to enable some people to understand this subject. These people know what a Gipsy, in the popular sense, means; they have either seen him, and observed his general mode of life, or had the same described to them in books. This idea of a Gipsy has been impressed upon their minds almost from infancy. But it puzzles most people to form any idea of a Gipsy of a higher order; such a Gipsy, for example, as preaches the gospel, or argues the law: that seems, hitherto, to have been almost incomprehensible to them. They know intuitively what is meant by any particular people who occupy a territory—any country, tract of land, or isle. They also know what is meant by the existence of the Jews. For the subject is familiar to them from infancy; it is wrapt up in their early reading; it is associated with the knowledge and practice of their religion, and the attendance, on the part of the Jews, at a place of worship. They have likewise seen and conversed with the Jews, or others who have done either or both; or they are acquainted with them by the current remarks of the world. But a people resembling, in so many respects, the Jews, without having any territory, or form of creed, peculiar to itself, or any history, or any peculiar outward associations or residences, or any material difference in appearance, character, or occupation, is something that the general mind of mankind would seem never to have dreamt of, or to be almost capable of realizing to itself. We have already seen how a writer in Blackwood’s Magazine gravely asserts, that, although “Billy Marshall left descendants numberless, the race, of which he was one, was in danger of becoming extinct;” when, in fact, it had only passed from its first stage of existence—the tent, into its second—tramping, without the tent; and after that, into its ultimate stage—a settled life. We have likewise seen how Sir Walter Scott imagines that the Scottish Gipsies have decreased, since the time of Fletcher, of Saltoun, about the year 1680, from 100,000 to 500, by “the progress of time, and encrease of the means of life, and the power of the laws.” Mr. Borrow has not gone one step ahead of these writers; and, although I naturally enough excuse them, I am not inclined to let him go scot-free, since he has set himself forward so prominently as an authority on the Gipsy question.[297]

In explaining this subject, it is by no means necessary to “crack an egg” for the occasion. There is doubtless a “hitch,” but it is a hitch so close under our very noses, that it has escaped the observation of the world. Still, the point can be readily enough realized by any one. Take, for example, the Walker family. Walker knows well enough who his father, grandfather, and so forth were; and holds himself to be a Walker. Is it not so with the Gipsies? What is it but a question of “folk?” A question more familiar to Scotch people than any other people. If one’s ancestors were all Walkers, is not the present Walker still a Walker? If such or such a family was originally of the Gipsy race, is it not so still? How did Billy Marshall happen to be a Gipsy? Was he a Gipsy because he lived in a tent? or, did he live in a tent, like a Gipsy of the old stock? If Billy was a Gipsy, surely Billy’s children must also have been Gipsies!

The error committed by writers, with reference to the so-called “dying-out” of the Gipsy race, arises from their not distinguishing between the questions of race, blood, descent, and language, and a style of life, or character, or mode of making a living. Suppose that a native Scottish cobbler should leave his last, and take to peddling, as a packman, and ultimately settle again in a town, as a respectable tradesman. On quitting “the roads,” he would cease to be a packman; nor could his children after him be called packmen, because the whole family were native Scotch from the first; following the pack having been only the occupation of the father, during part of his life. Should a company of American youths and maidens take to the swamp, cranberrying and gipsying, for a time, it could not be said that they had become Gipsies; for they were nothing but ordinary Americans. Should the society of Quakers dissolve into its original elements, it would just be English blood quakerized, returning to English blood before it was quakerized. But it is astonishing that intelligent men should conceive, and others retail, the ideas that have been expressed in regard to the destiny of the Gipsy race. What avails the lessons of history, or the daily experience of every family of the land, the common sense of mankind, or the instinct of a Hottentot, if no other idea of the fate of the Gipsy race can be given than that referred to? Upon the principle of the Gipsies “dying out,” by settling, and changing their habits, it would appear that, when at home, in the winter, they were not Gipsies; but that they were Gipsies, when they resumed their habits, in the spring! On the same principle, it would appear, that, if every Gipsy in the world were to disappear from the roads and the fields, and drop his original habits, there would be no Gipsies in the world, at all! What idea can possibly be more ridiculous?[298]

It is better, however, to compare the Gipsy tribe in Scotland, at the present day, to an ordinary clan in the olden time; although the comparison falls far short of the idea. We know perfectly well what it was to have been a member of this or that clan. Sir Walter Scott knew well that he was one of the Buccleuch clan, and a descendant of Auld Beardie; so that he could readily say that he was a Scott. Wherein, then, consists the difficulty in understanding what a Scottish Gipsy is? Is it not simply that he is “one of them;” a descendant of that foreign race of which we have such notice in the treaty of 1540, between James V. and John Faw, the then head of the Scottish Gipsy tribe? A Scottish Gipsy has the blood, the words, and the signs, of these men, and as naturally holds himself to be “one of them,” as a native Scotchman holds himself to be one of his father’s children. How, then, can a “change of habits” prevent a man from being his father’s son? How could a “change of habits” make a McGregor anything but a McGregor? How could the effects of any just and liberal law towards the McGregors lead to the decrease, and final extinction, of the McGregors? Every man, every family, every clan, and every people, are continually “changing their habits,” but still remain the same people. It would be a treat to have a treatise from Mr. Borrow upon the Gipsy race “dying out,” by “changing its habits,” or by the acts of any government, or by ideas of “gentility.”

I have already alluded to a resemblance between the position of the Gipsy race, at the present day, and that of the English and American races. Does any one say that the English race is not a race? Or that the American is not a race? And yet the latter is a compost of everything that migrates from the Old World. But take some families, and we will find that they are almost pure English, in descent, and hold themselves to be actually such. But ask them if they are English, and they will readily answer: “English? No, siree!” The same principle holds still more with the Gipsy race. It is not a question of country against country, or government against government, separated by an ocean; but the difference proceeds from a prejudice, as broad and deep as the ocean, that exists between two races—the native, and that of such recent introduction—dwelling in the same community.

I have explained the effect which the mixing of native blood with Gipsy has upon the Gipsy race, showing that it only modifies its appearance, and facilitates its passing into settled and respectable life. I will now substantiate the principle from what is daily observed among the native race itself. Take any native family—one of the Scotts, for example. Let us commence with a family, tracing its origin to a Scott, in the year 1600, and imagine that, in its descent, every representative of the name married a wife of another family, or clan, having no Scotts’ blood in her veins. In the seventh descent, there would be only one one-hundred and twenty-eighth part of the original Scott in the last representative of the family. Would not the last Scott be a Scott? The world recognizes him to be a Scott; he holds himself to be a Scott—“every inch a Scott;” and doubtless he is a Scott, as much as his ancestor who existed in the year 1600. What difficulty can there, therefore, be, in understanding how a man can be a Gipsy, whose blood is mixed, even “dreadfully mixed,” as the English Gipsies express it? Gipsies are Gipsies, let their blood be mixed as much as it may; whether the introduction of the native blood may have come into the family through the male or the female line.

In the descent of a native family, in the instance given, the issue follows the name of the family. But, with the Gipsy race, the thing to be transmitted is not merely a question of family, but a race distinct from any particular family. If a Gipsy woman marries into a native family, the issue retains the family name of the husband, but passes into the Gipsy tribe; if a Gipsy man marries into a native family, the issue retains his name, in the general order of society, and likewise passes into the Gipsy tribe; so that such intermarriages, which almost invariably take place unknown to the native race, always leave the issue Gipsy. For the Gipsy element of society is like a troubled spirit, which has been despised, persecuted, and damned; cross it out, to appearance, as much as you may, it still retains its Gipsy identity. It then assumes the form of a disembodied spirit, that will enter into any kind of tabernacle, in the manner described, dispel every other kind of spirit, clean or unclean, as the case may be, and come up, under any garb, colour, character, occupation, or creed—Gipsy. It is perfectly possible, but not very probable, to find a Gipsy a Jew, in creed, and, for the most part, in point of blood, in the event of a Jew marrying a mixed Gipsy. He might follow the creed of the Jewish parent, and be admitted into the synagogue; but, although outwardly recognised as a Jew, and having Jewish features, he would still be a chabo; for there are Gipsies of all creeds, and, like other people in the world, of no creed at all. But it is extremely disagreeable to a Gipsy to have such a subject mentioned in his hearing; for he heartily dislikes a Jew, and says that no one has any “chance” in dealing with him. A Gipsy likewise says, that the two races ought not to be mentioned in the same breath, or put on the same footing, which is very true; for reason tells us, that, strip the Gipsy of every idea connected with “taking bits o’ things,” and leading a wild life, and there should be no points of enmity between him and the ordinary native; certainly not that of creed, which exists between the Jew and the rest of the world, to which question I will by and by refer.

The subject of the Gipsies has hitherto been treated as a question of natural history, only, in the same manner as we would treat ant-bears. Writers have sat down beside them, and looked at them—little more than looked at them—described some of their habits, and reported their chaff. To get to the bottom of the subject, it is necessary to sound the mind of the Gipsy, lay open and dissect his heart, identify one’s self with his feelings, and the bearings of his ideas, and construct, out of these, a system of mental science, based upon the mind of the Gipsy, and human nature generally. For it is the mind of the Gipsy that constitutes the Gipsy; that which, in reference to its singular origin and history, is, in itself, indestructible, imperishable and immortal.

Consider, then, this race, which is of such recent introduction upon the stage of the European world, of such a singular origin and history, and of such universal existence, with such a prejudice existing against it, and the merest impulse of reflection, apart from the facts of the case, will lead us to conclude, that, as it has settled, it has remained true to itself, in the various associations of life. In whatever position, or under whatever circumstances, it is to be found, it may be compared, in reference to its past history, to a chain, and the early Gipsies, to those who have charged it with electricity. However mixed, or however polished, the metal of the links may have since become, they have always served to convey the Gipsy fluid to every generation of the race. It is even unnecessary to enquire, particularly, how that has been accomplished, for it is self-evident that the process which has linked other races to their ancestry, has doubly linked the Gipsy race to theirs. Indeed, the idea of being Gipsies never can leave the Gipsy race. A Gipsy’s life is like a continual conspiracy towards the rest of the world; he has always a secret upon his mind, and, from his childhood to his old age, he is so placed as if he were, in a negative sense, engaged in some gunpowder plot, or as if he had committed a crime, let his character be as good as it possibly may. Into whatever company he may enter, he naturally remarks to himself: “I wonder if there are any of us here.” That is the position which the mixed and better kind of Gipsy occupies, generally and passively. Of course, there are some of the race who are always actually hatching some plot or other against the rest of the world. Take a Gipsy of the popular kind, who appears as such to the world, and there are two ideas constantly before him—that of the Gorgio and Chabo: they may slumber while he is in his house, or in his tent, or when he is asleep, or his mind is positively occupied with something; but let any one come near him, or him meet or accost any one, and he naturally remarks, to himself, that the person “is not one of us,” or that he “is one of us.” He knows well what the native may be thinking or saying of him, and he as naturally responds in his own mind. This circumstance of itself, this frightful prejudice against the individual, makes, or at least keeps, the Gipsy wild; it calls forth the passion of resentment, and produces a feeling of reckless abandon, that might otherwise leave him. To that is to be added the feeling, in the Gipsy’s mind, of his race having been persecuted, for he knows little of the circumstances attending the origin of the laws passed against his tribe, and attributes them to persecution alone. He considers that he has a right to travel; that he has been deprived of rights to travel, which were granted to his tribe by the monarchs of past ages; and, moreover, that his ancestors—the “ancient wandering Egyptians”—always travelled. He feels perfectly independent of, and snaps his fingers at, everybody; and entertains a profound suspicion of any one who may approach him, inasmuch as he imagines that the stranger, however fair he may speak to him, has that feeling for him, as if he considered it pollution to touch him. But he is very civil and plausible when he is at home.

It is from such material that all kinds of settled Gipsies, at one time or other, have sprung. Such is the prejudice against the race, that, if they did not hide the fact of their being Gipsies from the ordinary natives, they would hardly have the “life of a dog” among them, because of their having sprung from a race which, in its original state, has been persecuted, and so much despised. By settling in life, and conforming with the ways of the rest of the community, they “cease to be Gipsies,” in the estimation of the world; for the world imagines that, when the Gipsy conforms to its ways, there is an end of his being a Gipsy. Barring the “habits,” such a Gipsy is as much a Gipsy as before, although he is one incog. The wonder is not that he and his descendants should be Gipsies; but the real wonder is, that they should not be Gipsies. Neither he nor his descendants have any choice in the matter. Does the settled Gipsy keep a crockery or tin establishment, or an inn, or follow any other occupation? Then his children cannot all follow the same calling; they must betake themselves to the various employments open to the community at large, and, their blood being mixed, they become lost to the general eye, amid the rest of the population. While this process is gradually going on, the Gipsy population which always remains in the tent—the hive from which the tribe swarms—attracts the attention of the public, and prevents it from thinking anything about the matter. In England, alone, we may safely assume that the tented Gipsy population, about the commencement of this century, must have encreased at least four-fold by this time, while, to the eye of the public, it would appear that “the Gipsies are gradually decreasing, so that, by and by, they will become extinct.”

The world, generally, has never even thought about this subject. When I have spoken to people promiscuously in regard to it, they have replied: “We suppose that the Gipsies, as they have settled in life, have got lost among the general population:” than which nothing can be more unfounded, as a matter of fact, or ridiculous, as a matter of theory. Imagine a German family settling in Scotland. The feeling of being Germans becomes lost in the first generation, who do not, perhaps, speak a word of German. There is no prejudice entertained for the family, but, on the contrary, much good-will and respect are shown it by its neighbours. The parents identify themselves with those surrounding them; the children, born in the country, become, or rather are, Scotch altogether; so that all that remains is the sense of a German extraction, which, but for the name of the family, would very soon be lost, or become a mere matter of tradition. In every other respect, the family, sooner or later, becomes lost amid the general population. In America, we daily see Germans getting mixed with, and lost among, Americans; but where is the evidence of such a process going on, or ever having taken place, in Great Britain, between the Gipsy and the native races? The prejudice which the ordinary natives have for the very name of Gipsy is sufficient proof that the Gipsy tribe has not been lost in any such manner. Still, it has not only got mixed, but “dreadfully mixed,” with the native blood; but it has worked up the additional blood within itself, having thoroughly gipsyfied it. The original Gipsy blood may be compared to liquid in a vessel, into which native liquid has been put: the mixture has, as a natural consequence, lost, in a very great measure, its original colour; but, inasmuch as the most important element in the amalgamation has been mind, the result is, that, in its descent, it has remained, as before, Gipsy. Instead, therefore, of the Gipsies having become lost among the native population, a certain part of the native blood has been lost among them, greatly adding to the number of the body.

We cannot institute any comparison between the introduction of the Gipsies and the Huguenots, the last body of foreigners that entered Great Britain, relative to the destiny of the respective foreign elements. For the Huguenots were not a race, as distinguished from every other creature in the world, but a religious party, taking refuge among a people of cognate blood and language, and congenial religious feelings and faith; and were, to say the least of it, on a par, in every respect, with the ordinary natives, with nothing connected with them to prevent an amalgamation with the other inhabitants; but, on the contrary, having this characteristic, in common with the nations of Europe, that the place of birth constitutes the fact, and, taken in connection with the residence, creates the feelings of nationality and race. Many of my readers are, doubtless, conversant with the history of the Huguenots. Even in some parts of America, nothing is more common than for people to say that they are Huguenots, that is, of Huguenot descent, which is very commonly made the foundation of the connections and intimate associations of life. The peculiarity is frequently shown in the appearance of the individuals, and in such mental traits as spring from the contemplation of the Huguenots as an historical and religious party, even when the individual now follows the Catholic faith. But these people differ in no essential respect from the other inhabitants.

But how different is the position always occupied by the Gipsies! Well may they consider themselves “strangers in the land;” for by whom have they ever been acknowledged? They entered Scotland, for example, and have encreased, progressed, and developed, with so great a prejudice against them, and so separated in their feelings from others around them, as if none had almost existed in the country but themselves, while they were “dwelling in the midst of their brethren;” the native blood that has been incorporated with them having the appearance as if it had come from abroad. They, a people distinct from any other in the world, have sprung from the most primitive stage of human existence—the tent, and their knowledge of their race goes no further back than when it existed in other parts of the world, in the same condition, more or less, as themselves. They have been a migratory tribe, wherever they have appeared or settled, and have never ceased to be the same peculiar race, notwithstanding the changes which they have undergone; and have been at home wherever they have found themselves placed. The mere place of birth, or the circumstance under which the individual has been reared, has had no effect upon their special nationality, although, as citizens of particular countries, they have assimilated, in their general ideas, with others around them. And not only have they had a language peculiar to themselves, but signs as exclusively theirs as are those of Freemasons. For Gipsies stand to Gipsies as Freemasons to Freemasons; with this difference—that Masons are bound to respond to and help each other, while such associations, among the Gipsies, are optional with the individual, who, however, is persuaded that the same people, with these exclusive peculiarities, are to be met with in every part of the world. A Gipsy is, in his way, a Mason born, and, from his infancy, is taught to hide everything connected with his race, from those around him. He is his own tyler, and tyles his lips continually. Imagine, then, a person taught, from his infancy, to understand that he is a Gipsy; that his blood, (at least part of it,) is Gipsy; that he has been instructed in the language, and initiated in all the mysteries, of the Gipsies; that his relations and acquaintances in the tribe have undergone the same experience; that the utmost reserve towards those who are not Gipsies has been continually inculcated upon him, and as often practised before his eyes; and what must be the leading idea, in that person’s mind, but that he is a Gipsy? His pedigree is Gipsy, his mind has been cast in a Gipsy mould, and he can no more “cease to be a Gipsy” than perform any other impossibility in nature. Thus it is that Gipsydom is not a work of man’s hand, nor a creed, that is “revealed from faith to faith;” but a work which has been written by the hand of God upon the heart of a family of mankind, and is reflected from the mind of one generation to that of another. It enters into the feelings of the very existence of the man, and such is the prejudice against his race, on the part of the ordinary natives, that the better kind of Scottish Gipsy feels that he, and more particularly she, would almost be “torn in pieces,” if the public really knew all about them.

These facts will sufficiently illustrate how a people, “resembling, in so many respects, the Jews, without having any territory, or form of creed, peculiar to itself, or any history, or any peculiar outward associations or residences, or any material difference in appearance, character, or occupation,” can be a people, living among other people, and yet be distinct from those among whom they live. The distinction consists in this people having blood, language, a cast of mind, and signs, peculiar to itself; the three first being the only elements which distinguish races; for religion is a secondary consideration; one religion being common to many distinct races. This principle, which is more commonly applied to people occupying different countries, is equally applicable to races, clans, families, or individuals, living within the boundary of a particular country, or dwelling in the same community. We can easily understand how two individuals can be two distinct individuals, notwithstanding their being members of the same family, and professing the same religion. We can still more easily understand the same of two families, and still more so of two septs or clans of the same general race. And, surely, there can be no difficulty in understanding that the Gipsy tribe, whatever may be its habits, is something different from any native tribe: for it has never yet found rest for the sole of its foot among the native race, although it has secured a shelter clandestinely; and of the extent, and especially of the nature, of its existence, the world may be said to be entirely ignorant. The position which the Gipsy race occupies in Scotland is that which it substantially occupies in every other country—unacknowledged, and, in a sense, damned, everywhere. There is, therefore, no wonder that it should remain a distinct family among mankind, cemented by its language and signs, and the knowledge of its universality. The phenomenon rests upon purely natural causes, and differs considerably from that of the existence of the Jews. For the Jews are, everywhere, acknowledged by the world, after a sort; they have neither language nor, as far as I know, signs peculiar to themselves, (although there are secret orders among them,) but possess the most ancient history, an original country, to which they, more or less, believe they will be restored, and a religion of divine origin, but utterly superseded by a new and better dispensation. Notwithstanding all that, the following remark, relative to the existence of the Jews, since the dispersion, may very safely be recalled: “The philosophical historian confesses that he has no place for it in all his generalizations, and refers it to the mysteries of Providence.” For the history of the Gipsies bears a very great resemblance to it; and, inasmuch as that is not altogether “the device of men’s hands,” it must, also, be referred to Providence, for Providence has a hand in everything.