Part III.

The Treatment the Gipsies have received in this Country.

The social history and improvements of our own country seem to have gone

by irregular leaps and bounds. The Parliament, like the _Times_, follows

upon the heels of public opinion in all measures concerning the welfare

of the nation; and it is well it should be so. An Englishman will be led

by a child; but it requires a strong hand and a sharp whip to drive him.

One hundred and forty years ago the Wesleys and Whitfield caused a

commotion in the religious world. Upwards of a century ago the first

canal in this country was opened for the conveyance of goods upon our

silent highways, and trade began in earnest to show signs of life and

activity. A century ago Robert Raikes, of Gloucester, opened his first

Sunday-school--the beginning of a system ever widening and expanding,

carrying with it blessings incomprehensible to finite minds, and only to

be revealed in another world. Nearly a century ago Raper's translation

of Grellmann's "Dissertation on the Gipsies" was published, and which

caused no little stir at the time, being the first work of any kind worth

notice that had appeared. Seventy years ago an interesting

correspondence took place in the _Christian Observer_ upon the condition

of the Gipsies, and various lines of missionary action were suggested;

but no plan was adopted, and all words blown to the wind. Then, as now,

people would look at the Gipsies in their pitiable condition, and with a

shrug of the shoulders would say, "Poor things," and away they would go

to their mansions, doff their warm winter clothing, put on their

needleworked slippers, stretch their legs before a blazing fire in the

drawing-room, and call "John" to bring a box of the best cigars, the

champagne, dry sherry, and crusted port, and then noddle off to sleep.

Sixty-four years ago Hoyland's "Historical Survey of the Gipsies" made

its appearance, a work that caught the fire and spirit of Grellmann's,

the object of both being to stir up the missionary zeal of this country

in the cause of the Gipsies. Fifty years ago James Crabb began his

missionary work among the Gipsies at Southampton, and for a while did

well; but in course of time, owing to the Gipsies moving about, as in the

case of "Our Canal Population," the work dwindled down and down, till

there is not a vestige of this good man's efforts to be seen. About the

same time that Crabb was at work among the Gipsies missionary efforts

were put in motion to improve the canal-boatmen, and mission stations

were established at Newark, Stoke-on-Trent, Aylesbury, Oxford,

Birmingham, and other places, but fared the same fate as the missionary

effort of Crabb and others among the Gipsies. Fifty years ago railways

were opened, which gave an impetus to trade never experienced before.

Fifty years ago the preaching of Bourne and Clowes was causing

considerable excitement in the country. Nearly fifty years ago witnessed

the passing of the Reform Bill, and the Factory Act received the Royal

signature. Forty years have passed away since George Borrow's missionary

efforts among the Gipsies were prominently before the public, which, sad

to say, shared the fate of Crabb's, Hoyland's, Roberts', and Raper's.

From that day till now, except the spasmodic efforts of a clergyman here

and there, or some other kind-hearted friend, these 20,000 poor slighted

outcasts have been left to themselves to sink or swim as they thought

well. The only man, except the dramatist and novelist, who has seemed to

notice them has been the policeman, and his vigilant eye and staff have

been used to drive them from their camping-ground from time to time, and

thus--if possible--made their lives more miserable, and created within

them deeper-seated revenge, owing to the way in which they are carrying

out the Enclosures Act. All missionary efforts put forth to improve the

condition of the factory operative and canal-boatmen, previous to the

passing of the Factory Act, nearly fifty years since, and the Canal Boats

Act of 1877, were fruitless and unprofitable. The passing of the Factory

Act has done more for the children in one year than all the missionaries

in the kingdom could have done in their lifetime. Similar results are

the outcome of the Brickyard Act of 1871, as touching the welfare of the

children. And so in like manner it will be with the Canal Boats Act when

properly carried out, the canal-boat children of to-day, in fifty years

hence, will be equal to other working classes. From the days of Hoyland,

and Borrow, and Crabb, down to the present time, but little seems to have

been done for the Gipsies. With Crabb died all real interest in the

welfare of these poor unfortunate people. The difficulties he had

encountered seemed to have had a deterrent effect upon others.

Missionary zeal, without moral force of law and the schoolmaster, will

accomplish but little for the Gipsies at our doors; and it may be said

with special emphasis as regards the improvement of the Gipsy children.

From the days of the relentless, cruel, and merciless persecution the

Gipsies received under the reigns of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, down to

the present time, nothing has been done by law to reclaim these Indian

outcasts and Asiatic emigrants. The case of the Gipsies shows us plainly

that hunting the women and children with bloodhounds, and dragging the

Gipsy leaders to the gallows, will neither stamp them out nor improve

their character and habits; and, on the other hand, it appears that the

love-like gentleness, child-like simplicity, and religious fervour of the

circumscribed influence of Crabb and others, about this time, did but

little for these poor, little, dark-eyed, wandering brethren of ours from

afar. The next agents that appeared upon the scene to try to elevate the

Gipsies into something like a respectable position in society were the

dramatists and novelists. These flickering lights of the night have met

with no better success, in fact, their efforts, in the way they have been

put forth, have, as a rule, exhibited Gipsy life in a variety of false

colours and shades, which exhibition has turned out to be a failure in

accomplishing the object the authors had in view, other than to fill

their coffers and mislead the public as to the real character of a Gipsy

vagabond's life; and thus it will be seen, I think, that the Gipsies and

their children of to-day present to us the miserable failure, of bitter

persecution in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the efforts of

Christianity alone at the beginning of the nineteenth century, and more

recently the novelist and dramatist as a means in themselves, separately,

to effect a reformation in the habits and character of the Gipsy children

and their parents.

If the Gipsy and other tramping, travelling "rob rats" of to-day are to

become honest, industrious, and useful citizens of the future, it must be

by the influence of the schoolmaster and the sanitary officer, coming to

a great extent as they do between the fitful and uncertain efforts of the

missionary, the relentless hands of persecution, the policeman, and the

stage.

From the time the Gipsies landed in this country in 1515, down to the

time when Raper's translation of Grellmann's work appeared in 1787, a

period of 272 years, nothing seems to have been done to improve the

Gipsies, except to pass laws for their extermination. The earliest

notice of the Gipsies in our own country was published in a quarto volume

in the year 1612, the object of which was to expose the system of

fortune-telling, juggling, and legerdemain, and in which reference is

made to the Gipsies as follows:--"This kind of people about a hundred

years ago beganne to gather an head, as the first heere about the

southerne parts. And this, as I am imformed and can gather, was their

beginning: Certain Egyptians banished their country (belike not for their

good conditions) arrived heere in England, who for quaint tricks and

devices, not known heere at that time among us, were esteemed and had in

great admiration; insomuch that many of our English loyterers joined with

them, and in time learned their crafty cosening. The speech which they

used was the right Egyptian language, with whom our Englishmen conversing

at least learned their language. These people continuing about the

country and practising their cosening art, purchased themselves great

credit among the country people, and got much by palmistry and telling of

fortunes; insomuch they pitifully cosened poor country girls, both of

money, silver spoons, and the best of their apparalle or other goods they

could make." And he goes on to say, "But what numbers were executed on

these statutes you would wonder; yet, notwithstanding, all would not

prevaile, but they wandered as before uppe and downe and meeting once a

year at a place appointed; sometimes at the Peake's Hole in Derbyshire,

and other whiles by Ketbroak at Blackheath." The annual gathering of the

Gipsies and others of the same class, who make Leicestershire,

Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire, Staffordshire and neighbouring counties,

their head-quarters, takes place at the well-known Bolton Fair, held

about Whitsuntide, on the borders of Leicestershire, a village situated

in a kind of triangle, between Leicestershire, Nottinghamshire and

Derbyshire. Spellman speaks of the Gipsies about this time as

follows:--"The worst kind of wanderers and impostors springing up on the

Continent, but yet rapidly spreading themselves through Britain and other

parts of Europe, disfigured by their swarthiness, sun-burnt, filthy in

their clothing and indecent in all their customs." Under these

circumstances it is not to be wondered at, in these dark ages, that some

steps should be taken to stop these lawless desperadoes and vagabonds

from contaminating our English labourers' and servant girls with their

loose ideas of labour, cleanliness, honesty, morality, truthfulness, and

religion. It was soon manifest what kind of strange people had begun to

flock to our shores to make their domiciles among us, as will be seen in

a description given of them in an Act of Parliament passed in the

twenty-second year of the reign of Henry VIII., being only about seven

years after their landing in Scotland, and to which I have referred

before. In the tenth chapter of the said act they are described as--"An

outlandish people calling themselves Egyptians, using no crafte nor feat

of merchandise; who have come into this realm and gone from shire to

shire and place to place in great company, and used great subtle and

crafty means to deceive the people, bearing them in hand that by

palmistry they could tell the men's and women's fortunes, and so many

times by crafte and subtlety have deceived the people of their money, and

also have committed many heinous felonies and robberies. Wherefore all

are directed to avoid the realm and not to return under pain of

imprisonment and forfeitures of their goods and chattels; and on their

trials for any felonies which they may have committed they shall not be

entitled to a jury." As if this was not sufficient or as if it had not

the desired effect the authors anticipated viz., in preventing other

Gipsies flocking to our shores or driving those away from us who were

already in our midst another act was passed in the twenty-seventh year of

the same reign, more severe than the previous act, and part of it runs as

follows:--"Whereas certain outlandish people, who do not profess any

crafte or trade, whereby to maintain themselves, but go about in great

numbers from place to pace using insidious underhand means to impose on

His Majesty's subjects, making them believe that they understand the art

of foretelling to men and women their good and evil fortunes by looking

in their hands, whereby they frequently defraud people of their money;

likewise are guilty of thefts and highway robberies; it is hereby ordered

that the said vagrants, commonly called Egyptians, in case they remain

one month in the kingdom, shall be proceeded against as thieves and

rascals, and at the importation of such Egyptians (the importer) shall

forfeit 40 pounds for every trespass."

The fine of 40 pounds being inflicted at that time, which means a large

sum at the present day, carries something more with it than the thefts

committed by the Gipsies. It is evident that the Gipsies had wheedled

themselves into the graces and favours of some portion of the aristocracy

by their crafts and deception. If the Gipsy offences had been committed

against the labouring population it would have been the height of

absurdity for Parliament to have inflicted a fine of some hundreds of

pounds upon the working man of the poorer classes. It has occurred to me

that the question of Popery may have been one of the causes of their

persecution; and it is not unlikely that wealthy Roman Catholics may have

had something to do with their importation into this country. The fact

is, before the Gipsies left the Continent for England they were Roman

Catholic pilgrims, and going about the country doing the work of the Pope

to some extent, and this may have been one of the objects of those who

were opposed to the Protestant tendencies of Henry VIII. in causing them

to come over to England. At this time our own country was in a very

disturbed state, religiously, and no people were so suitable to work in

the dark and carry messages from place to place as the Gipsies,

especially if by so doing they could make plenty of plunder out of it;

and this idea I have hinted at before as one of their leading

characteristics. It should not be overlooked that telegraphs, railways,

stagecoaches, and canals had not been established at this time,

consequently for the Gipsies to be moving about the country from village

to village under a cloak, as they appeared to the higher powers, was

sufficient to make them the subjects of bitter persecution. For the

Gipsies to have openly avowed that they were Roman Catholics before

landing upon our shores, would in all probability have defeated the

object of those who induced--if induced--them to come over to Britain.

At any rate, we may, I think, fairly assume that this feature of their

character, an addition to their fortune-telling proclivities, may have

been one of the causes of their persecution, and in this view I am to

some extent supported by circumstances.

During the reign of Henry VIII. a number of Gipsies were sent back to

France, and in the book of receipts and payments of the thirty-fifth of

the same reign the following entries are made:--"Nett payments, 1st

Sept., 36 of Henry VIII. Item, to Tho. Warner, Sergeant of the

Admyraltie, 10th Sept., for victuals prepared for a shippe appointed to

convey certaine Egupeians, 58s. Item, to the same Tho. Warner, to the

use of John Bowles for freight of said shippe, 6 pounds 5s. 0d. Item,

to Robt. ap Rice, Esq., Shriff of Huntingdon, for the charge of the

Egupeians at a special gailo delivery, and the bringing of them to be

carreied over the sees; over and besides the sum of 4 pounds 5s. 0d.

groming of seventeen horses sold at five shillings the peice as apperythe

by a particular book, 17 pounds 17s. 7d. Item, to Will. Wever, appointed

to have the charge of the conduct of the said Egupeians to Callis, 5

pounds."

In 1426 a first-rate horse was worth about 1 pounds 6s. 8d., and a colt

4s. 6d. Twenty-two years later the hay of an acre of land was worth

about 5 pounds.

There were several acts passed relating to the Gipsies during the reign

of Philip and Mary, and fifth of Elizabeth, by which it states--"If any

person, being fourteen years old, whether natural born subject or

stranger, who had been seen in the fellowship of such persons, or had

disguised himself like them, or should remain with them one month at once

or several times, it should be felony without the benefit of the clergy."

Wraxall, in his "History of France," vol. ii., page 32, in referring to

the act of Elizabeth, in 1653, states that in her reign the Gipsies

throughout England were supposed to exceed 10,000. About the year 1586

complaints were again made of the increase of vagabonds and loitering

persons.

The following order is copied from the Harleian MSS. in the British

Museum:--"Orders, rules, and directions, concluded, appointed, and agreed

upon by us the Justices of Peace within the county of Suffolk, assembled

at our general session of peace, holden at Bury, the 22nd daie of Aprill,

in the 31st yeare of the raigne of our Souraigne Lady the Queen's

Majestie, for the punishing and suppressinge of roags, vacabonds, idle

loyterings, and lewde persons, which doe or shall hereafter wander and

goe aboute within the hundreths of Thingo cum Bury, Blackborne,

Thedwardstree, Cosford, Babings, Risbridge, Lackford, and the hundreth of

Exninge, in the said county of Suffolk, contrary to the law in that case

made and provided.

"Whereas at the Parliament beganne and holden at Westminster, the 8th

daie of Maye, in the 14th yeare of the raigne of the Queen's Majesty that

nowe is, one Acte was made intytuled, 'An Acte for the punishment of

Vacabonds and for releife of the Pooere and Impotent'; and whereas at a

Session of the Parliament, holden by prorogacon at Westminster, the eight

daie of February, in the 28th yeare of Her Majesties raigne, an other

Acte was made and intytuled, 'An Act for settinge of the Poore to work

and for the avoydinge of idleness'; by virtue of which severall Acts

certeyne provisions and remedies have been ordeyned and established, as

well for the suppressinge and punishinge of all roags, vacabonds, sturdy

roags, idle and loyteringe persons; as also for the reliefe and setting

on worke of the aged and impotente persons within this realm, and

authoritie gyven to justices of peace, in their several charges and

commissions, to see that the said Acts and Statuts be putte in due

execution, to the glorie of Allmightie God and the benefite of the Common

Welth.

"And whereas also yt appeareth by dayly experience that the numbr of

idle, vaggraunte, loyteringe sturdy roags, masterless men, lewde and yll

disposed persons are exceedingly encreased and multiplied, committinge

many grevious and outerageous disorders and offences, tendinge to the

great . . . of Allmightie God, the contempt of Her Majesties laws, and to

the great charge, trouble, and disquiet of the Common Welth:

"We, the Justices of Peace above speciefied, assembled and mett together

at our general sessions above-named for remedie of theis and such lyke

enormitities which hereafter shall happen to arrise or growe within the

hundreths and lymits aforesaid, doe by theis presents order, decree, and

ordeyne That there shall be builded or provided a convenient house, which

shall be called the House of Correction, and that the same be establishd

within the towne of Bury, within the hundreth of Thingoe aforesaid: And

that all persons offendinge or lyvinge contrary to the tenor of the said

twoe Acts, within the hundreths and lymitts aforesaid, shall be, by the

warrante of any Justice of Peace dwellinge in the same hundreths or

lymitts, committed thether, and there be received, punished, sett to

worke, and orderd in such sorte and accordinge to the directions,

provisions, and limitations hereafter in theis presents declard and

specified.

"Fyrst--That yt maie appeare what persons arre apprehended, committed,

and brought to the House of Correction, it is ordered and appointed, that

all and every person and persons which shall be found and taken within

the hundreths and lymitts aforesaid above the age of 14 yeares, and shall

take upon them to be procters or procuraters goinge aboute without

sufficiente lycense from the Queen's Majestie; all idle persons goinge

aboute usinge subtiltie and unlawfull games or plaie; all such as faynt

themselves to have knowledge in physiognomeye, palmestrie, or other

absurd sciences; all tellers of destinies, deaths, or fortunes, and such

lyke fantasticall imaginations."

In Scotland, the Gipsies, and other vagrants of the same class, were

dealt with equally as severely under Mary Queen of Scots as they were

under Henry VIII. and Elizabeth in England. In an act passed in 1579 I

find the following relating to Gipsies and vagabonds:--"That sik as make

themselves fules and ar bairdes, or uther sik like runners about, being

apprehended, sall be put into the Kinge's Waird, or irones, sa lang as

they have ony gudes of their owin to live on, and fra they have not

quhair upon to live of thir owin that their eares be nayled to the trone

or to an uther tree, and thir eares cutted off and banished the countrie;

and gif thereafter they be found againe, that they be hanged.

"And that it may be knowen quwhat maner of persones ar meaned to be idle

and strong begares, and vagabounds, and worthy of the punischment before

specified, it is declared: That all idle persones ganging about in any

countrie of this realm, using subtil craftie and unlawful playes, as

juglarie, fast-and-lous, and sik uthers; the idle people calling

themselves _Egyptians_, or any uther, that feinzies themselves to have a

knowledge or charming prophecie, or other abused sciences, quairby they

perswade peopil that they can tell thir weirds, deaths, and fortunes, and

sik uther phantastical imaginations," &c., &c.

Another law was passed in Scotland in 1609, not less severe than the one

passed in 1579, called Scottish Acts, and in which I find the

following:--"Sorcerers, common thieves, commonly called Egyptians, were

directed to pass forth of the kingdom, under pain of death as common,

notorious, and condemned thieves." This was persecution with vengeance,

and no mistake; and it was under this kind of treatment, severe as it

was, the Gipsies continued to grow and prosper in carrying out their

nefarious practices. The case of these poor miserable wretches, midnight

prowlers, with eyes and hearts and bending steps determined upon mischief

and evil-doing, presents to us the spectacle of justice untempered with

mercy. The phial filled with revenge, malice, spite, hatred,

extermination and blood--without the milk of human kindness, the honey of

love, water from the crystal fountain, and the tincture of Gethsemane's

garden being added to take away the nauseousness of it--being handed

these poor deluding witches and wretches to drink to the last dregs,

failed to get rid of social and national grievances. The hanging of

thirteen Gipsies at one of the Suffolk Assizes a few years before the

Restoration carried with it none of the seeds of a reformation in their

character and habits, nor did it lessen the number of these wandering

prowlers, for we find that from the landing of a few hundred of Gipsies

from France in 1514, down to the commencement of the eighteenth century,

the number had increased to something like 15,000. The number who had

been hung, died in prison, suffered starvation, and the fewness of those

who were Christians, and gone to heaven, during the period of over 250

years, and prior to the noble efforts of Raper, Sir Joseph Banks,

Hoyland, Crabb, Borrow, and others, is fearful to contemplate. Hoyland

tells us that in his day, "not one Gipsy in a thousand could read or

write."

Efforts put forth to exterminate these Asiatic heathens, babble-mongers,

and bush-ranging thieves, were not confined to England alone. King

Ferdinand of Spain was the first to set the persecuting machine at work

to grind them to powder, and passed an edict in the year 1492 for their

extermination, which only drove them into hiding-places, to come out,

with their mouths watering, in greater numbers, for fresh acts of

violence and plunder. At the King's death, the Emperor Charles V.

persecuted them afresh, but with no success, and the consequence was they

were left alone in Spain to pursue their course of robbery and crime for

more than 200 years. In France an edict was passed by Francis I. At a

Council of the State of Orleans an order was sent to all Governors to

drive the Gipsies out of the country with fire and the sword. Under this

edict they still increased, and a new order was issued in 1612 for their

extermination. In 1572 they were driven from the territories of Milan

and Parma, and earlier than this date they were driven beyond the

Venetian jurisdiction.

"It is the sound of fetters--sound of work

Is not so dismal. Hark! they pass along.

I know it is those Gipsy prisoners;

I saw them, heard their chains. O! terrible

To be in chains."

In Denmark they were not allowed to pass about the country unmolested,

and every magistrate was ordered to take them into custody. A very sharp

and severe order came out for their expulsion from Sweden in the year

1662. Sixty-one years later a second order was published by the Diet;

and in 1727 additional stringent measures were added to the foregoing

edicts. Under pain of death they were excluded from the Netherlands by

Charles V., and in 1582 by the United Provinces. Germany seems to have

led the van in passing laws for their extermination. At the Augsburg

Diet in 1500, Maximillian I. had the following edict drawn

up:--"Respecting those people who call themselves Gipsies roving up and

down the country. By public edict to all ranks of the empire, according

to the obligations under which they are bound to us and the Holy Empire,

it is strictly ordered that in future they do not permit the said Gipsies

(since there is authentic evidence of their being spies, scouts, and

conveyers of intelligence, betraying the Christians to the Turks) to pass

or remain within their territories, nor to trade or traffic, neither to

grant them protection nor convoy, and that the said Gipsies do withdraw

themselves before Easter next ensuing from the German Dominions, entirely

quit them, nor suffer themselves to be found therein. As in case they

should transgress after this time, and receive injury from any person,

they shall have no redress, nor shall such persons be thought to have

committed any crime." Grellmann says the same affair occupied the Diet

in 1530, 1544, 1548, and 1551, and was also enforced in the stringent

police regulations of Frankfort in 1577, and he goes on to say that with

the exception of Hungary and Transylvania, they were similarly proscribed

in every civilised state. I think it will be seen by the foregoing

German edict that there is some foundation for the supposition I have

brought forward earlier, viz., that the persecution of the Gipsies in

this country was not so much on account of their thieving deeds, plunder,

and other abominations, as their connection with the emissaries of the

Pope of Rome, and in the secrecy of their movements in going from village

to village, undermining the foundation of the State, law, and order,

civil and religious liberty. The only bright spot and cheerful tint upon

this sorrowful picture of persecution which took place in our own country

during these dark ages was the appearance of the Star of Elstow, John

Bunyan, the Bedfordshire tinker, whose life and death forcibly

illustrates the last words of Jesus upon the Cross, "Father, forgive

them, they know not what they do."

"'Twere ill to banish hope and let the mind

Drift like a feather. I have had my share

Of what the world calls trial. Once a fire

Came in the darkness, when the city lay

In a still sea of slumber, stretching out

Great lurid arms which stained the firmament;

And when I woke the room was full of sparks,

And red tongues smote the lattice. Then a hand

Came through the sulphur, taking hold of mine,

And the next moment there were shouts of joy.

Ah! I was but a child and my first care

Was for my mother."--HARRIS (the Cornish poet).

Towards the end of the eighteenth century it became evident that edicts

and persecutions were not going to stamp out the Gipsies in this country,

for instead of them decreasing in numbers they kept increasing; at this

time there were supposed to be about 18,000 in the country. The

following sad case, showing the malicious spirits of the Gipsies, and the

relentless hand of the hangman, seemed to have had the effect of bringing

the authorities to bay. They had begun to put their "considering caps"

on, and were in a fix as to the next move, and it was time they had.

They had never thought of tempering justice with mercy. A century ago,

1780, a number of young Gipsies were arrested at Northampton, upon what

charge it does not appear. It should be noted that Northamptonshire at

this time was a favourite round for the Gipsy fraternity as well as the

adjoining counties. This, it seems, excited the feelings of the Gipsies

in the county, and they sought to obtain the release of the young Gipsies

who were in custody, but were not successful in their application to the

magistrate; the consequence was--true to their instincts--the spirit of

revenge manifested itself to such a degree that the Gipsies threatened to

set fire to the town, and would, in all probability have carried it out

had not a number of them been brought to the gallows for these threats.

With this case the hands of persecution began to hang down, for it was

evident that persecution _alone_ would neither improve these Gipsies nor

yet drive them out of the country. The tide of events now changed. Law,

rigid, stern justice alone could do no good with them, and consequently

handed them over to the minister of love and mercy. This step was a

bound to the opposite extreme, and as we go along we shall see that the

efforts put forth in this direction alone met with but little more

success than under the former treatment. Seven years after the foregoing

executions Grellmann's work upon the Gipsies appeared, which caused a

considerable commotion among the religious communities, following, as it

did, the universal feeling aroused in the welfare of the children of this

country by the establishment of Sunday-schools throughout the length and

breadth of the land to teach the children of the working-classes reading

and writing and the fundamental principles of Christianity. After

repeated efforts put forth by a number of Christian gentlemen, and the

interest caused by the publication of Grellmann's book, the work of

reforming the Gipsies by purely religious and philanthropic action began

to lag behind; the result was, as in the case of persecution, no good was

observable, and the Gipsies were allowed to go again on their way to

destruction. The next step was one in the right direction, viz., that of

trying to improve the Gipsies by the means of the schoolmaster; although

humble and feeble in its plan of operation, yet if we look to the agency

put forth and its results, the Sunday-school teacher must have felt

encouraged in his work as he plodded on Sunday after Sunday.

It may be said of Thomas Howard as it was said of the poor widow of old,

he "hath done more than them all." The following account of this

cheerful, encouraging, and interesting gathering is taken from Hoyland,

in which he says:--"The first account he received of any of them was from

Thomas Howard, proprietor of a glass and china shop, No. 50, Fetter Lane,

Fleet Street. This person, who preached among the Calvinists, said that

in the winter of 1811 he had assisted in the establishment of a

Sunday-school in Windwill Street, Acre Lane, near Clapham. It was under

the patronage of a single gentlewoman, of the name of Wilkinson, and

principally intended for the neglected and forlorn children of

brick-makers and the most abject poor." At the present day Gipsies

generally locate in the neighbourhood of brick-yards and low, swampy

marshes, or by the side of rivers or canals. It was begun on a small

scale, but increased till the number of scholars amounted to forty.

"During the winter a family of Gipsies, of the name of Cooper, obtained

lodgings at a house opposite the school. Trinity Cooper, a daughter of

the Gipsy family, who was about thirteen years of age, applied to be

instructed at the school; but in consequence of the obloquy affixed to

that description of persons she was repeatedly refused. She nevertheless

persevered in her importunity, till she obtained admission for herself

and two of her brothers. Thomas Howard says, surrounded as he was by

ragged children, without shoes and stockings, the first lesson he taught

them was silence and submission. They acquired habits of subordination

and became tractable and docile; and of all his scholars there were not

any more attentive and affectionate than these; and when the Gipsies

broke up in the spring, to make their usual excursions, the children

expressed much regret at leaving school. This account was confirmed by

Thomas Jackson, of Brixton Row, minister of Stockwell Chapel, who

said:--Since the above experiment, several Gipsies had been admitted to a

Sabbath-school under the direction of his congregation. At their

introduction, he compared them to birds when first put into the cage,

which flew against the sides of it, having no idea of restraint; but by a

steady, even care over them, and the influence of the example of other

children, they soon become settled and fell into their ranks." The next

step taken to let daylight upon the Gipsy and his dark doings in the dark

ages was by means of letters to the Press, and what surprises me is that

this step, the most important of all, was not taken before.

In a letter addressed to the _Christian Observer_, vol. vii., p. 91, in

the year about 1809, "Nil" writes:--"As the divine spirit of Christianity

deems no object, however uncouth or insignificant, beneath her notice, I

venture to apply to you on behalf of a race, the outcasts of society, of

whose pitiable condition, among the many forms of human misery which have

engaged your efforts, I do not recollect to have seen any notice in the

pages of your excellent miscellany. I allude to the deplorable state of

the Gipsies, on whose behalf I beg leave to solicit your good offices

with the public. Lying at our very doors, they seem to have a peculiar

claim on our compassion. In the midst of a highly refined state of

society, they are but little removed from savage life. In this happy

country, where the light of Christianity shines with its purest lustre,

they are still strangers to its cheering influence. I have not heard

even of any efforts which have been made either by individuals or

societies for their improvement." "Fraternicus," writing to the same

Journal, vol. vii., and in the same year, says:--"It is painful to

reflect how many thousands of these unhappy creatures have, since the

light of Christianity has shone on this island, gone into eternity

ignorant of the ways of salvation;" and goes on to say that, "there is an

awful responsibility attached to this neglect," and recommends the

appointment of missionaries to the work; and finishes his appeal as

follows:--"Christians of various denominations, perhaps may, through the

divine providence, be the means of exciting effectual attention to the

spiritual wants of this deplorable set of beings; and the same

benevolence which induced you to exert your talents and influence on

behalf of the oppressed negroes may again be successfully employed in

ameliorating the condition of a numerous class of our fellow-creatures."

"H." wrote to the _Christian Observer_, and said he hoped "to see the day

when the nation, which has at length done justice to the poor negroes,

will be equally zealous to do their duty in this instance," and he

offered to subscribe "twenty pounds per annum towards so good an object."

"Minimus," another writer to the same paper, with reference to missionary

enterprise, says:--"The soil which it is proposed to cultivate is

remarkably barren and unpropitious; of course, a plentiful harvest must

not be soon expected;" and finishes his letter by saying, "Let us arise

and build; let us begin; there is no fear of progress and help." "H.," a

clergyman, writes again and says:--"Surely, when our charity is flowing

in so wide a channel, conveying the blessings of the Gospel to the most

distant quarters of the globe, we shall not hesitate to water this one

barren and neglected field in our own land. My attention was drawn to

the state of this miserable class of human beings by the letter of

'Fraternicus,' and looking upon it as a reproach to our country;" and

ends his letter with a short prayer, as follows: "It is my earnest prayer

to God that this may not be one of these projects which are only talked

of and never begun; but that it may tend to the glory of His name and to

the bringing back of these poor lost sheep to the fold of their

Redeemer." "J. P." writes to the same Journal, April 28, 1810, in which

he says:--"Circumstances lead to think that were encouragement given to

them the Gipsies would be inclined to live in towns and villages like

other people; and would in another generation become civilised, and with

the pains which are now taken to educate the poor, and to diffuse the

Scriptures and the knowledge of Christ, would become a part of the

regular fold. It would require much patient continuance in well doing in

those who attempted it, and they must be prepared, perhaps, to meet with

some untowardness and much disappointment." "Fraternicus" sums up the

correspondence by suggesting a plan of taking the school to the Gipsies

instead of taking the Gipsies to the schools:--"If the compulsory

education of the Gipsies had taken place a century ago, and their tents

brought under some sort of sanitary inspection, what a change by this

time would have taken place in their habits," &c.; and he further

says:--"By degrees they might be brought to attend divine worship; and if

in the parish of a pious clergyman he would probably embrace the

opportunity of teaching them. Much might be done by a pious schoolmaster

and schoolmistress, by whom the girls might be taught different kinds of

work, knitting, sewing, &c. Should these suggestions be deemed worthy of

your insertion, they might, perhaps, awaken the attention of some

benevolent persons, whose superior talents and experience in the ways of

beneficence would enable them to perfect and carry into execution a plan

for the effectual benefit of these unhappy portioners of our kind."

"Junius," in the _Northampton Mercury_, under date June 27th, 1814,

writes:--"When we consider the immense sums raised for every probable

means of doing good which have hitherto been made public, we cannot doubt

if a proper method should be proposed for the relief and ameliorating the

state of these people it would meet with deserved encouragement. Suppose

that legislature should think this not unworthy its notice, and as a part

of the great family they ought not to be overlooked." Another

correspondent to the same Journal, "A Friend of Religion," writes under

date July 21st, 1815, urging the necessity of some means being adopted

for their improvement, and remarks as follows:--"Thousands of our

fellow-creatures would be raised from depravity and wretchedness to a

state of comfort; the private property of individuals be much more

secure, and the public materially benefited."

Instead of putting into practice measures for their improvement, and the

State taking hold of them by the hand as children belonging to us, and

with us, and for whom our first care ought to have been, we have said in

anger--

"'Heathen dog!

Begone, begone! you shall have nothing here.'

The Indian turned; then facing Collingrew,

In accents low and musical, he said:

'But I am very hungry; it is long

Since I have eaten. Only give me a crust,

A bone, to cheer me on my weary way.'

Then answered he, with fury and a frown:

'Go! Get you gone! you red-skinned heathen hound!

I've nothing for you. Get you gone, I say!'"

HARRIS, "Wayside Pictures."

During the summer of 1814, Mr. John Hoyland, of Sheffield, set to work in

earnest to try to improve the condition of the Gipsies, and for that

purpose he visited, in conjuction with Mr. Allen, solicitor at Higham

Ferners, many parts of Northamptonshire and neighbouring counties; and he

also sent out a circular to most of the sheriffs in England with a number

of questions upon it relating to their numbers, condition, &c., and the

following are a few of the answers sent in reply:--1. All Gipsies suppose

the first of them came from Egypt. 2. They cannot form any idea of the

number in England. 5. The more common names are Smith, Cooper, Draper,

Taylor, Boswell, Lee, Lovell, Leversedge, Allen, Mansfield, Glover,

Williams, Carew, Martin, Stanley, Buckley, Plunkett, and Corrie. 6 and

7. The gangs in different towns have not any connection or organisation.

8. In the county of Herts it is computed there may be sixty families,

having many children. Whether they are quite so numerous in

Buckinghamshire, Bedfordshire, and Northamptonshire the answers are not

sufficiently definite to determine. In Cambridgeshire, Oxfordshire,

Warwickshire, Wiltshire, and Dorsetshire, greater numbers are calculated

upon. 9. More than half their numbers follow no business; others are

dealers in horses and asses, &c., &c. 10. Children are brought up in the

habits of their parents, particular to music and dancing, and are of

dissolute conduct. 11. The women mostly carry baskets with trinkets and

small wares, and tell fortunes. 13. In most counties there are

particular situations to which they are partial. 15, 16, and 17. Do not

know of any person that can write the language, or of any written

specimen of it. 19. Those who profess any religion represent it to be

that of the country in which they reside; but their description of it

seldom goes beyond repeating the Lord's Prayer, and only a few of them

are capable of that. 20. They marry, for the most part, by pledging to

each other, without any ceremony. 21. They do not teach their children

religion. 22 and 23. Not _one in a thousand can read_. Most of these

answers were confirmed by Riley Smith, who, during many years, was

accounted the chief of the Gipsies in Northamptonshire. Mr. John Forster

and Mr. William Carrington, respectable merchants of Biggleswade, and who

knew Riley Smith well, corroborated his statements. After Hoyland had

published his book no one stepped into the breach, with flag in hand, to

take up the cry; and for several years--except the efforts of a clergyman

here and there--the interest in the cause of the Gipsies dwindled down,

and became gradually and miserably less, and the consequence was the

Gipsies have not improved an iota during the three centuries they have

been in our midst. As they were, so they are, and likely to remain

unless brought under State control.

"On the winds

A voice came murmuring, 'We must work and wait';

And every echo in the far-off fen

Took up the utterance: 'We must work and wait.'

Her spirit felt it, 'We must work and wait.'"

HARRIS.

No one heeded the warning. No one listened to the cries of the poor

Gipsy children as they glided into eternity. No one put out their hands

to save them as they kept disappearing from the gaze of the bystanders,

among whom were artificial Christians, statesmen, and philanthropists.

All was as still as death, and the poor black wretches passed away.

Whether His Majesty George III. had ever read Grellmann's or Hoyland's

works on Gipsies has not been shown. The following interesting account

will show that royal personages are not deaf to the cries of suffering

humanity, be it in a Gipsy's wigwam, a cottage, or palace. It is taken

from a missionary magazine for June, 1823, and in all probability the

circumstance took place not many years prior to this date, and is as

follows:--"A king of England of happy memory, who loved his people and

his God better than kings in general are wont to do, occasionally took

the exercise of hunting. Being out one day for this purpose, the chase

lay through the shrubs of the forest. The stag had been hard run; and,

to escape the dogs, had crossed the river in a deep part. As the dogs

could not be brought to follow, it became necessary, in order to come up

with it, to make a circuitous route along the banks of the river, through

some thick and troublesome underwood. The roughness of the ground, the

long grass and frequent thickets, gave opportunity for the sportsmen to

separate from each other, each one endeavouring to make the best and

speediest route he could. Before they had reached the end of the forest

the king's horse manifested signs of fatigue and uneasiness, so much so

that his Majesty resolved upon yielding the pleasures of the chase to

those of compassion for his horse. With this view he turned down the

first avenue in the forest and determined on riding gently to the oaks,

there to wait for some of his attendants. His Majesty had only proceeded

a few yards when, instead of the cry of the hounds, he fancied he heard

the cry of human distress. As he rode forward he heard it more

distinctly. 'Oh, my mother! my mother! God pity and bless my poor

mother!' The curiosity and kindness of the king led him instantly to the

spot. It was a little green plot on one side of the forest, where was

spread on the grass, under a branching oak, a little pallet, half covered

with a kind of tent, and a basket or two, with some packs, lay on the

ground at a few paces distant from the tent. Near to the root of the

tree he observed a little swarthy girl, about eight years of age, on her

knees, praying, while her little black eyes ran down with tears.

Distress of any kind was always relieved by his Majesty, for he had a

heart which melted at 'human woe'; nor was it unaffected on this

occasion. And now he inquired, 'What, my child, is the cause of your

weeping? For what do you pray?' The little creature at first started,

then rose from her knees, and pointing to the tent, said, 'Oh, sir! my

dying mother!' 'What?' said his Majesty, dismounting, and fastening his

horse up to the branches of the oak, 'what, my child? tell me all about

it.' The little creature now led the king to the tent; there lay, partly

covered, a middle-aged female Gipsy in the last stages of a decline, and

in the last moments of life. She turned her dying eyes expressively to

the royal visitor, then looked up to heaven; but not a word did she

utter; the organs of speech had ceased their office! _the silver cord was

loosed_, _and the wheel broken at the cistern_. The little girl then

wept aloud, and, stooping down, wiped the dying sweat from her mother's

face. The king, much affected, asked the child her name, and of her

family; and how long her mother had been ill. Just at that moment

another Gipsy girl, much older, came, out of breath, to the spot. She

had been at the town of W---, and had brought some medicine for her dying

mother. Observing a stranger, she modestly curtsied, and, hastening to

her mother, knelt down by her side, kissed her pallid lips, and burst

into tears. 'What, my dear child,' said his Majesty, 'can be done for

you?' 'Oh, sir!' she replied, 'my dying mother wanted a religious person

to teach her and to pray with her before she died. I ran all the way

before it was light this morning to W---, and asked for a minister, _but

no one could I get to come with me to pray with my dear mother_!' The

dying woman seemed sensible of what her daughter was saying, and her

countenance was much agitated. The air was again rent with the cries of

the distressed daughters. The king, full of kindness, instantly

endeavoured to comfort them. He said, 'I am a minister, and God has sent

me to instruct and comfort your mother.' He then sat down on a pack by

the side of the pallet, and, taking the hand of the dying Gipsy,

discoursed on the demerit of sin and the nature of redemption. He then

pointed her to Christ, the all-sufficient Saviour. While the king was

doing this the poor creature seemed to gather consolation and hope; her

eyes sparkled with brightness, and her countenance became animated. She

looked up; she smiled; but it was the last smile; it was the glimmering

of expiring nature. As the expression of peace, however, remained strong

in her countenance, it was not till some little time had elapsed that

they perceived the struggling spirit had left mortality.

"It was at this moment that some of his Majesty's attendants, who had

missed him at the chase, and who had been riding through the forest in

search of him, rode up, and found the king comforting the afflicted

Gipsies. It was an affecting sight, and worthy of everlasting record in

the annals of kings.

"His Majesty now rose up, put some gold into the hands of the afflicted

girls, promised them his protection, and bade them look to heaven. He

then wiped the tears from his eyes and mounted his horse. His

attendants, greatly affected, stood in silent admiration. Lord L--- was

now going to speak, when his Majesty, turning to the Gipsies, and

pointing to the breathless corpse, and to the weeping girls, said, with

strong emotion, 'Who, my lord, who, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto

these?'"

"Hark! Don't you hear the rumbling of its wheels?

Nearer it comes and nearer! Oh, what light!

The tent is full; 'tis glory everywhere!

Dear Jesus, I am coming! Then she fell--

As falls a meteor when the skies are clear."

After this solemn but interesting event nothing further seems to have

been done by either Christian or philanthropist towards wiping out this

national disgrace, and the Gipsies were left to follow the bent of their

evil propensities for several years, till Mr. Crabb's reading of Hoyland

and witnessing the sentence of death passed upon a Gipsy at Winchester,

in 1827, for horse-stealing.

Mr. Crabb happened to enter just as the judge was passing sentence of

death on two unhappy men. To one he held out the hope of mercy; but to

the other, a poor Gipsy, who was convicted of horse-stealing, he said, no

hope could be given. The young man, for he was but a youth, immediately

fell on his knees, and with uplifted hands and eyes, apparently

unconscious of any persons being present but the judge and himself,

addressed him as follows: "Oh, my Lord, save my life!" The judge

replied, "No; you can have no mercy in this world: I and my brother

judges have come to the determination to execute horse-stealers,

especially Gipsies, because of the increase of the crime." The

suppliant, still on his knees, entreated--"Do, my Lord Judge, save my

life! do, for God's sake, for my wife's sake, for my baby's sake!" "No,"

replied the judge, "I cannot; you should have thought of your wife and

children before." He then ordered him to be taken away, and the poor

fellow was rudely dragged from his earthly judge. It is hoped, as a

penitent sinner, he obtained the more needful mercy of God, through the

abounding grace of Christ. After this scene Mr. Crabb could not remain

in court. As he returned he found the mournful intelligence had been

communicated to some Gipsies who had been waiting without, anxious to

learn the fate of their companion. They seemed distracted.

On the outside of the court, seated on the ground, appeared an old woman

and a very young one, and with them two children, the eldest three years

and the other an infant but fourteen days old. The former sat by its

mother's side, alike unconscious of her bitter agonies and of her

father's despair. The old woman held the infant tenderly in her arms,

and endeavoured to comfort its weeping mother, soon to be a widow under

circumstances the most melancholy. "My dear, don't cry," said she;

"remember you have this dear little baby." Impelled by the sympathies of

pity and a sense of duty, Mr. Crabb spoke to them on the evil of sin, and

expressed his hope that the melancholy event would prove a warning to

them, and to all their people. The poor man was executed about a

fortnight after his condemnation.

Mr. Crabb being full of fire and zeal, set to work in right good earnest,

and succeeded in forming a committee at Southampton to bring about a

reformation among the Gipsies. He also enlisted the sympathy of other

earnest Christians in the work, and for a time, while the sun shone,

received encouraging signs of success, in fact, according to his little

work published in 1831, his labours were attended with blessed results

among the adult portion of the Gipsies. Owing to the wandering habits of

the Gipsies, discouragements, and his own death, the work, so far as any

organisation was concerned, came to an end. No Elisha came forward to

catch his mantle, the consequence was the Gipsies were left again to work

out their own destruction according to their own inclinations and tastes,

as they deemed best, plainly showing that voluntary efforts are very

little better than a shadow, vanishing smoke, and spent steam, to

illuminate, elevate, warm, cheer, and encourage the wandering, dark-eyed

vagabonds roving about in our midst into paths of usefulness, honesty,

and sobriety.

Thus far in this part I have feebly endeavoured to show that rigid,

stern, inflexible law and justice on the one hand, and meek, quiet, mild,

human love and mercy on the other hand, have separately failed in the

object the promoters had in view. Justice tried to exterminate the

Gipsy; mercy tried to win them over. Of the two processes I would much

prefer that of mercy. It is more pleasant to human nature to be under

its influence, and more in the character of an Englishman to deal out

mercy. The next efforts put forth to reform these renegades was by means

of fiction, romance, and poetry. Some writers, in their praiseworthy

endeavours to make up a medicine to improve the condition of the Gipsies,

have neutralised its effects by adding too much honey and spice to it.

Others, who have mistaken the emaciated condition of the Gipsy, have been

dosing him with cordials entirely, to such a degree, that he--Romany

_chal_--imagines he is right in everything he says and does, and he ought

to have perfect liberty to go anywhere or do anything. Some have

attempted to paint him white, and in doing so have worked up the

blackness from underneath, and presented to us a character which excites

a feeling in our notions--a kind of go-between, akin to sympathy and

disgust. Not a few have thrown round the Gipsy an enchanting, bewitching

halo, which an inspection has proved nothing less than a delusion and a

snare. Others have tried to improve this field of thistles and sour

docks by throwing a handful of daisy seeds among them. It requires

something more than a phantom life-boat to rescue the Gipsy and bring him

to land. Scents and perfumes in a death-bed chamber only last for a

short time. A bottle of rose-water thrown into a room where

decomposition is at work upon a body will not restore life. Scattering

flowers upon a cesspool of iniquity will not purify it. A fictitious

rope composed of beautiful ideas is not the thing to save drowning Gipsy

children. To put artificially-coloured feathers upon the head of a Gipsy

child dressed in rags and shreds, with his body literally teeming with

vermin and filth, will not make him presentable at court or a fit subject

for a drawing-room. To dress the Satanic, demon-looking face of a Gipsy

with the violet-powder of imagery only temporally hides from view the

repulsive aspect of his features. The first storm of persecution brings

him out again in his true colour. The forked light of imagination thrown

across the heavens on a dark night is not the best to reveal the

character of a Gipsy and set him upon the highways for usefulness and

heaven. The dramatist has strutted the Gipsy across the stage in various

characters in his endeavour to improve his condition. After the fine

colours have been doffed, music finished, applause ceased, curtain

dropped, and scene ended, he has been a black, swarthy, idle, thieving,

lying, blackguard of a Gipsy still. Applause, fine colours, and dazzling

lights have not altered his nature. Bad he is, and bad he will remain,

unless we follow out the advice of the good old book, "Train up a child

in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it."

Would to God the voice of the little Gipsy girl would begin to ring in

our ears, when she spoke with finger pointed and tears in her eyes:--

"There is a cabin half-way down the cliff,

You see it from this arch-stone; there we live,

And there you'll find my mother. Poverty

Weeps on the woven rushes, and long grass

Rent from the hollows is our only bed.

I have no father here; he ran away;

Perhaps he's dead, perhaps he's living yet,

And may come back again and kiss his child;

For every day, and morn, and even star,

I pray for him with face upturned to heaven,

'O blessed Saviour, send my father home!'"

The word "Gipsy" seems to have a magic thread running through it,

beginning at the tip end of "G" and ending with the tail end of "y."

Geese have tried to gobble it, ducks swallow it, hens scratched after it,

peacocks pecked it, dandy cocks crowed over it, foxes have hid it, dogs

have fought for it, cats have sworn and spit over it, pigs have tried to

gulp it as the daintiest morsel, parrots have chatted about it, hawks,

eagles, jackdaws, magpies, ravens, and crows have tried to carry it away

as a precious jewel, and in the end all have put it down as a thing they

could neither carry nor swallow; and after all, when it has been stripped

of its dowdy colours, what has it been? Only a "scamp," in many cases,

reared and fostered among thieves, pickpockets, and blackguards, in our

back slums and sink gutters. Strip the 20,000 men, women, and children

of the word "Gipsy," moving about our country under the artificial and

unreal association connected with Gipsy life, so-called, of the "red

cloaks," "silver buttons," "pretty little feet," "small hands,"

"bewitching eyes," "long black hair," in nine cases out of ten in name

only, and you, at a glance, see the class of people you have been

neglecting, consequently sending to ruin and misery through fear on the

one hand and lavishing smiles on the other.

In all ages there have been people silly enough to be led away by sights,

sounds, colours, and unrealities, to follow a course of life for which

they are not suited, either by education, position, or tastes. No one

acts the part of a butterfly among school-boys better than the black-eyed

Gipsy girl has done among "fast-goers," swells, and fops. In ninety-nine

cases out of a hundred she has trotted them out to perfection and then

left them in the lurch, and those, when they have come to their senses,

and had their eyes opened to the stern facts of a Gipsy's life, have said

to themselves, "What fools we have been, to be sure," and they would have

given any amount to have undone the past. The praise, flattery, and

looks bestowed upon the "bewitching deceivers," when they have been

labouring under the sense of infatuation and fascination instead of

reason, has made them in the presence of friends hang down their heads

like a willow, and to escape, if possible, the company of their "old

chums" by all sorts of manoeuvres. Hubert Petalengro--a gentleman, and a

rich member of a long family--conceived the idea, after falling madly in

love with a dark-eyed beauty, so-called, of turning Gipsy and tasting for

himself--not in fiction and romance--the charms of tent life, as he

thought, in reality passing through the "first," "second," and "third

degrees." At first, it was ideal and fascinating enough in all

conscience; it was a pity Brother Petalengro did not have a foretaste of

it by spending a month in a Gipsy's tent in the depth of winter, with no

balance at his banker's, and compelled to wear Gipsy clothing, and make

pegs and skewers for his Sunday broth; gather sticks for the fire, and

sleep on damp straw in the midst of slush and snow, and peeping through

the ragged tent roof at the moon as he lay on his back, surrounded by

Gipsies of both sexes, of all ages and sizes, cursing each other under

the maddening influence of brandy and disappointment. To make himself

and his damsel comfortable on a Gipsy tour he fills his pocket with gold,

flask with brandy, buys a quantity of rugs upon which are a number of

foxes' heads--and I suppose tails too--waterproof covering for the tent,

and waterproof sheets and a number of blankets to lay on the damp grass

to prevent their tender bodies being overtaken with rheumatics, and he

also lays in a stock of potted meats and other dainties; makes all

"square" with Esmeralda and her two brothers and the donkeys; takes first

and second-class tickets for the whole of them to Hull--the Balaams

excepted (it is not on record that they spoke to him on his journey);

provides Esmeralda with dresses and petticoats--not too long to hide her

pretty ankles, red stockings, and her lovely little foot--gold and

diamond rings, violin, tambourine, the guitar, Wellington boots, and

starts upon his trip to Norway in the midst of summer beauty. Many times

he must have said to himself, "Oh! how delightful." "As we journeyed

onward, how fragrant the wild flowers--those wild flowers can never be

forgotten. Gipsies like flowers, it is part of their nature. Esmeralda

would pluck them, and forming a charming bouquet, interspersed with

beautiful wild roses, her first thoughts are to pin them in the

button-hole of the Romany Rye (Gipsy gentleman). As we journeyed quietly

through the forest, how delightful its scenes. Free from all care, we

enjoy the anticipation of a long and pleasant ramble in Norway's happy

land. We felt contented with all things, and thankful that we should be

so permitted to roam with our tents and wild children of nature in

keeping the solitudes we sought. The rain had soon ceased, tinkle,

tinkle went the hawk-bells on the collar of our Bura Rawnee as she led

the way along the romantic Norwegian road.

[Picture: A Respectable Gipsy and his Family "on the Road"]

"'Give the snakes and toads a twist,

And banish them for ever,'

sang Zachariah, ever and anon giving similar wild snatches. Then

Esmeralda would rocker about being the wife of the Romany Rye (Gipsy

gentleman) and as she proudly paced along in her heavy boots, she

pictured in imagery the pleasant life she should lead as her Romany Rye's

joovel, monshi, or somi. She was full of fun, yet there was nothing in

her fanciful delineations which could offend us. They were but the foam

of a crested wave, soon dissipated in the air. They were the evanescent

creations of a lively, open-hearted girl--wild notes trilled by the bird

of the forest. We came again into the open valley. Down a meadow gushed

a small streamlet which splashed from a wooden spout on to the roadside."

"The spot where we pitched our tents was near a sort of small natural

terrace, at the summit of a steep slope above the road, backed by a mossy

bank, shaded by brushwood and skirting the dense foliage of the dark

forest of pine and fir, above our camp." "We gave two of the peasants

some brandy and tobacco." "Then all our visitors left, except four

interesting young peasant girls, who still lingered." "They had all

pleasant voices." "We listened to them with much pleasure; there was so

much sweetness and feeling in their melody. Zachariah made up for his

brother's timidity. Full of fun, what dreadful faces the young Gipsy

would pull, they were absolutely frightful; then he would twist and turn

his body into all sorts of serpentine contortions. If spoken to he would

suddenly, with a hop, skip, and a jump alight in his tent as if he had

tumbled from the sky, and, sitting bolt upright, make a hideous face till

his mouth nearly stretched from ear to ear, while his dark eyes sparkled

with wild excitement, he would sing--

"'Dawdy! Dawdy! dit a kei

Rockerony, fake your bosh!'

"At one time a woman brought an exceedingly fat child for us to look at,

and she wanted Esmeralda to suckle it, which was, of course, hastily

declined. We began to ask ourselves if this was forest seclusion. Still

our visitors were kind, good-humoured people, and some drank our brandy,

and some smoked our English tobacco. After our tea, at five o'clock, we

had a pleasant stroll. Once more we were with Nature. There we lingered

till the scenes round us, in their vivid beauty, seemed graven deep in

our thought. How graphic are the lines of Moore:--

"'The turf shall be my fragrant shrine,

My temple, Lord, that arch of Thine,

My censor's breath the mountain airs,

And silent thoughts my only prayers.

"'My choir shall be the moonlight waves,

When murm'ring homeward to their caves,

Or when the stillness of the sea

Even more of music breathes of Thee!'

How appropriate were the words of the great poet to our feelings. We

went and sat down." "As we were seated by our camp fire, a tall, old

man, looking round our tents, came and stood contemplating us at our tea.

He looked as if he thought we were enjoying a life of happiness. Nor was

he wrong. He viewed us with a pleased and kindly expression, as he

seemed half lost in contemplation. We sent for the flask of brandy.

Returning to our tents we put on our Napoleon boots and made some

additions to our toilette." Of course, kind Mr. Petalengro would assist

lovely Esmeralda with hers. "Whilst we were engaged some women came to

our tents. The curiosity of the sex was exemplified, for they were dying

to look behind the tent partition which screened us from observation. We

did not know what they expected to see; one, bolder than the rest, could

not resist the desire to look behind the scenes, and hastily drew back

and dropped the curtain, when we said rather sharply, 'Nei! nei!'

Esmeralda shortly afterwards appeared in her blue dress and silver

buttons. Then we all seated ourselves on a mossy bank, on the side of

the terrace, with a charming view across the valley of the Logan. At

eight o'clock the music commenced. The sun shone beautifully, and the

mosquitoes and midges bit right and left with hungry determination. We

sat in a line on the soft mossy turf of the grassy slope, sheltered by

foliage. Esmeralda and Noah with their tambourines, myself with the

castanets, and Zachariah with his violin. Some peasant women and girls

came up after we had played a short time. It was a curious scene. Our

tents were pleasantly situated on an open patch of green sward,

surrounded by border thickets, near the sunny bank and the small flat

terrace. The rising hills and rugged ravines on the other side of the

valley all gave a singular and romantic beauty to the lovely view.

Although our Gipsies played with much spirit until nine o'clock, none of

the peasants would dance. At nine o'clock our music ceased, and we all

retired to our tents with the intention of going to bed. When we were

going into our tents, a peasant and several others with him, who had just

arrived, asked us to play again. At length, observing several peasant

girls were much disappointed, we decided to play once more. It was past

nine o'clock when we again took up our position on the mossy bank; so we

danced, and the peasant girls, until nearly ten o'clock. Once we nearly

whirled ourself and Esmeralda over the slope into the road below.

Esmeralda's dark eyes flashed fire and sparkled with merriment and

witchery."

"The bacon and fish at dinner were excellent; we hardly knew which was

best. A peasant boy brought us a bundle of sticks for our fire. The sun

became exceedingly hot. Esmeralda and myself went and sat in some shade

near our tents." "Noah stood in the shade blacking his boots, and

observed to Esmeralda, 'I shall not help my wife as Mr. Petalengro does

you.' 'Well,' said Esmeralda, 'what is a wife for?' 'For!' retorted

Noah, sharply, giving his boot an extra brush, 'why, to wait upon her

husband.' 'And what,' said Esmeralda, 'is a husband for?' 'What's a

husband for!' exclaimed Noah, with a look of profound pity for his

sister's ignorance, 'why, to eat and drink, and look on.'" Mr.

Petalengro goes on to say: "It would seem to us that the more rude energy

a man has in his composition the more a woman will be made to take her

position as helpmate. It is always a mark of great civilisation and the

effeminacy of a people when women obtain the undue mastery of men." And

he farther goes on to say: "We were just having a romp with Esmeralda and

her two brothers as we were packing up our things, and a merry laugh,

when some men appeared at the fence near our camping-ground. We little

think," says Mr. Petalengro, "how much we can do in this world to lighten

a lonely wayfarer's heart."

[Picture: A Bachelor Gipsy's Bedroom]

Esmeralda and Mr. Petalengro tell each other their fortunes. "Esmeralda

and myself were sitting in our tents. Then the thought occurred to her

that we should tell her fortune. 'Your fortune must be a good one,' said

we, laughing; 'let me see your hand and your lines of life.' We shall

never forget Esmeralda. She looked so earnestly as we regarded

attentively the line of her open hand." (Mr. Petalengro does not say

that tears were to be seen trickling down those lovely cheeks of

Esmeralda while this fortune-telling, nonsensical farce was being played

out.) "Then we took her step by step through some scenes of her supposed

future. We did not tell all. The rest was reserved for another day.

There was a serious look on her countenance as we ended; but, reader,

such secrets should not be revealed. Esmeralda commenced to tell our

fortunes. We were interested to know what she would say. We cast

ourselves on the waves of fate. The Gipsy raised her dark eyes from our

hand as she looked earnestly in the face. You are a young gentleman of

good connections. Many lands you have seen. But, young man, something

tells me you are of a wavering disposition.'" And then charming

Esmeralda would strike up "The Little Gipsy"--

"My father's the King of the Gipsies, that's true,

My mother she learned me some camping to do;

With a packel on my back, and they all wish me well,

I started up to London some fortunes for to tell.

"As I was a walking up fair London streets,

Two handsome young squires I chanced for to meet,

They viewed my brown cheeks, and they liked them so well,

They said 'My little Gipsy girl, can you my fortune tell?'

"'Oh yes! kind Sir, give me hold of your hand,

For you have got honours, both riches and land;

Of all the pretty maidens you must lay aside,

For it is the little Gipsy girl that is to be your bride.'

"He led me o'er the Mils, through valleys deep I'm sure,

Where I'd servants for to wait on me, and open me the door;

A rich bed of down to lay my head upon--

In less than nine months after I could his fortune tell.

"Once I was a Gipsy girl, but now a squire's bride,

I've servants for to wait on me, and in my carriage ride.

The bells shall ring so merrily, sweet music they shall play,

And will crown the glad tidings of that lucky, lucky day."

The drawback to this evening's whirligig farce was that the mosquitoes

determined to come in for a share. These little, nipping, biting

creatures preferred settling upon young blood, full of life and activity,

existing under artificial circumstances, to the carcase of a dead horse

lying in the knacker's yard. To prevent these little stingers drawing

the sap of life from the sweet bodies of these pretty, innocent, lovable

creatures, the Gipsies acted a very cruel part in dressing their faces

over with a brown liquid, called the "tincture of cedar." It is not

stated whether the "tincture of cedar "was made in Shropshire or Lebanon,

nor whether it was extracted from roses, or a decoction of thistles.

Alas, alas! how fickle human life is! How often we say and do things in

jest and fun which turn out to be stern realities in another form.

"As we looked upon the church and parsonage, surrounded as they were by

the modern park, with the broad silver lake near, the rising mountains on

all sides, and the clear blue sky above, our senses seemed entranced with

the passing beauty of the scene. It was one of those glimpses of perfect

nature which casts the anchor deep in memory, and leaves a lasting

impression of bygone days." And then Esmeralda danced as she sang the

words of her song; the words not in English are her own, for I cannot

find them even in the slang Romany, and what she meant by her bosh is

only known to herself.

"Shula gang shaugh gig a magala,

I'll set me down on yonder hill;

And there I'll cry my fill,

And every tear shall turn a mill.

Shula gang shaugh gig a magala

To my Uskadina slawn slawn.

"Shula gang shaugh gig a magala,

I'll buy me a petticoat and dye it red,

And round this world I'll beg my bread;

The lad I love is far away.

Shula gang shaugh gig a magala

To my Uskadina slawn slawn.

"Shul shul gang along with me,

Gang along me, I'll gang along with you,

I'll buy you a petticoat and dye it in the blue,

Sweet William shall kiss you in the rue.

Shula gang shaugh gig a magala

To my Uskadina slawn slawn."

"We were supremely happy," says Mr. Petalengro, "in our wandering

existence. We contrasted in our semi-consciousness of mind our absence

from a thousand anxious cares which crowd upon the social position of

those who take part in an overwrought state of extreme civilisation. How

long we should have continued our half-dormant reflections which might

have added a few more notes upon the philosophy of life, we knew not, but

we were roused by the rumble of a stolk-jaerre along the road."

"For the dance no music can be better than that of a Gipsy band; there is

life and animation in it which carries you away. If you have danced to

it yourself, especially in a _czardas,_ {176} then to hear the stirring

tones without involuntarily springing up is, I assert, an absolute

impossibility." Poor, deluded mortals, I am afraid they will find--

"Nothing but leaves!

Sad memory weaves

No veil to hide the past;

And as we trace our weary way,

Counting each lost and misspent day,

Sadly we find at last,

Nothing but leaves!"

The converse of all this artificial and misleading Gipsy life is to be

seen in hard fate and fact at our own doors--"Look on this picture and

then on that."

"There is a land, a sunny land,

Whose skies are ever bright;

Where evening shadows never fall:

The Saviour is its light."

"There's a land that is fairer than day,

And by faith we can see it afar;

For the Father waits over the way

To prepare us a dwelling-place there

In the sweet by-and-bye."

George Borrow, during his labours among the Gipsies of Spain forty years

ago, did not find much occasion for rollicking fun, merriment, and

boisterous laughter; his path was not one of roses, over mossy banks,

among the honeysuckles and daisies, by the side of running rivulets

warbling over the smooth pebbles; sitting among the primroses, listening

to the enchanting voices of the thousand forest and valley songsters;

gazing at the various and beautiful kinds of foliage on the hill-sides as

the thrilling strains of music pealed forth from the sweet voice of

Esmeralda and her tambourine. No, no, no! George Borrow had to face the

hard lot of all those who start on the path of usefulness, honour, and

heaven. Hard fare, disappointment, opposition, few friends, life in

danger, his path was rough and covered with stones; his flowers were

thistles, his songs attended with tears, and sorrow filled his heart.

But note his object, and mark his end. In speaking of some of the

difficulties in his travels, he says:--"My time lay heavily on my hands,

my only source of amusement consisting in the conversation of the woman

telling of the wonderful tales of the land of the Moors--prison escapes,

thievish feats, and one or two poisoning adventures in which she had been

engaged. There was something very wild in her gestures. She goggled

frightfully with her eyes." And then speaking of the old Gipsy woman

whom he went to see:--"Here, thrusting her hand into her pocket, she

discharged a handful of some kind of dust or snuff into the fellow's

face. He stamped and roared, but was for some time held fast by the two

Gipsy men; he extricated himself, however, and attempted to unsheath a

knife which he wore in his girdle; but the two young Gipsies flung

themselves upon him like furies."

Borrow says, after travelling a long distance by night, and setting out

again the next morning to travel thirteen leagues:--"Throughout the day a

drizzling rain was falling, which turned the dust of the roads into mud

and mire. Towards evening we reached a moor--a wild place enough, strewn

with enormous stones and rocks. The wind had ceased, but a strong wind

rose and howled at our backs. The sun went down, and dark night

presently came over us. We proceeded for nearly three hours, until we

heard the barking of dogs, and perceived a light or two in the distance.

'That is Trujillo,' said Antonio, who had not spoken for a long time. 'I

am glad of it,' I replied; 'I am so thoroughly tired, I shall sleep

soundly in Trujillo.' That is as it may be. We soon entered the town,

which appeared dark and gloomy enough. I followed close behind the

Gipsy, who led the way, I knew not whither, through dismal streets and

dark places where cats were squalling. 'Here is the house,' said he at

last, dismounting before a low, mean hut. He knocked, but no answer. He

knocked again, but no answer. 'There can be no difficulty,' said I,

'with respect to what we have to do. If your friends are gone out, it is

easy enough to go to a posada.' 'You know not what you say,' replied the

Gipsy. 'I dare not go to the mesuna, nor enter any house in Trujillo

save this, and this is shut. Well, there is no remedy; we must move on;

and, between ourselves, the sooner we leave the place the better. My own

brother was garroted at Trujillo.' He lighted a cigar by means of a

steel and yesca, sprung on his mule, and proceeded through streets and

lanes equally dismal as those through which we had already travelled."

Mr. Borrow goes on to say:--"I confess I did not much like this decision

of the Gipsy; I felt very slight inclination to leave the town behind,

and to venture into unknown places in the dark of the night, amidst rain

and mist--for the wind had now dropped, and the rain again began to fall

briskly. I was, moreover, much fatigued, and wished for nothing better

than to deposit myself in some comfortable manger, where I might sink to

sleep lulled by the pleasant sound of horses and mules despatching their

provender. I had, however, put myself under the direction of the Gipsy,

and I was too old a traveller to quarrel with my guide under present

circumstances. I therefore followed close to his crupper, our only light

being the glow emitted from the Gipsy's cigar. At last he flung it from

his mouth into a puddle, and we were then in darkness. We proceeded in

this manner for a long time. The Gipsy was silent. I myself was equally

so. The rain descended more and more. I sometimes thought I heard

doleful noises, something like the hooting of owls. 'This is a strange

night to be wandering abroad in,' I at length said to Antonio, the Gipsy.

(The Gipsy word for Antonio is 'Devil.') 'It is, brother,' said the

Gipsy; 'but I would sooner be abroad in such a night, and in such places,

than in the estaripel of Trujillo.'

"We wandered at least a league further, and now appeared to be near a

wood, for I could occasionally distinguish the trunks of immense trees.

Suddenly Antonio stopped his mule. 'Look, brother,' said he, 'to the

left, and tell me if you do not see a light; your eyes are sharper than

mine.' I did as he commanded me. At first I could see nothing, but,

moving a little further on, I plainly saw a large light at some distance,

seemingly amongst the trees. 'Yonder cannot be a lamp or candle,' said

I; 'it is more like the blaze of a fire.' 'Very likely,' said Antonio.

'There are no queres (_houses_) in this place; it is doubtless a fire

made by durotunes (_shepherds_); let us go and join them, for, as you

say, it is doleful work wandering about at night amidst rain and mire.'

"We dismounted and entered what I now saw was a forest, leading the

animals cautiously amongst the trees and brushwood. In about five

minutes we reached a small open space, at the farther side of which, at

the foot of a large cork-tree, a fire was burning, and by it stood or sat

two or three figures. They had heard our approach, and one of them now

exclaimed, 'Quien Vive?' 'I know that voice,' said Antonio, and, leaving

the horse with me, rapidly advanced towards the fire. Presently I heard

an 'Ola!' and a laugh, and soon the voice of Antonio summoned me to

advance. On reaching the fire, I found two dark lads, and a still darker

woman of about forty, the latter seated on what appeared to be horse or

mule furniture. I likewise saw a horse and two donkeys tethered to the

neighbouring trees. It was, in fact, a Gipsy bivouac . . . 'Come

forward, brother, and show yourself,' said Antonio to me; 'you are

amongst friends; these are of the Errate, the very people whom I expected

to find at Trujillo, and in whose house we should have slept.'

"'And what,' said I, 'could have induced them to leave their house in

Trujillo and come into this dark forest, in the midst of wind and rain,

to pass the night?'

"'They come on business of Egypt, brother, doubtless,' replied Antonio,

'and that business is none of ours. Calla boca! It is lucky we have

found them here, else we should have had no supper, and our horses no

corn.'

"'My ro is prisoner at the village yonder,' said the woman, pointing with

her hand in a particular direction; 'he is prisoner yonder for choring a

mailla (_stealing a donkey_); we are come to see what we can do in his

behalf; and where can we lodge better than in this forest, where there is

nothing to pay? It is not the first time, I trow, that Calore have slept

at the root of a tree.'

"One of the striplings now gave us barley for our animals in a large bag,

into which we successively introduced their heads, allowing the famished

creatures to regale themselves till we conceived that they had satisfied

their hunger. There was a puchero simmering at the fire, half-fall of

bacon, garbanzos, and other provisions; this was emptied into a large

wooden platter, and out of this Antonio and myself supped; the other

Gipsies refused to join us, giving us to understand that they had eaten

before our arrival; they all, however, did justice to the leathern bottle

of Antonio, which, before his departure from Merida, he had the

precaution to fill.

"I was by this time completely overcome with fatigue and sleep. Antonio

flung me an immense horse-cloth, of which he bore more than one beneath

the huge cushion on which he rode. In this I wrapped myself, and placing

my head upon a bundle, and my feet as near as possible to the fire, I lay

down."

How delightful and soul-inspiring it would have been to the weary

pilgrim, jaded in the cause of the poor Gipsies, if Antonio's heart had

been full of religious zeal and fervour, and Hubert Petalengro and

Esmeralda, their souls filled to overflowing with the love of God, had

been by the side of the camp-fire, and the trio had struck up with their

sweet voices, as the good man was drawing his weary legs and cold feet

together before the embers of the dying Gipsy fire--

"Guide me, O thou great Jehovah,

Pilgrim through this barren land;

I am weak, but Thou art mighty,

Hold me with Thy powerful hand.

Bread of heaven, feed me till I want no more.

"Open now the crystal fountain

Whence the healing waters flow;

Let the fiery, cloudy pillars,

Lead me all my journey through.

Strong Deliverer, be Thou still my strength and shield."

"Antonio and the other Gipsies remained seated by the fire conversing. I

listened for a moment to what they said, but I did not perfectly

understand it, and what I did understand by no means interested me. The

rain still drizzled, but I heeded it not, and was soon asleep.

"The sun was just appearing as I awoke. I made several efforts before I

could rise from the ground; my limbs were quite stiff, and my hair was

covered with rime, for the rain had ceased, and a rather severe frost set

in. I looked around me, but could see neither Antonio nor the Gipsies;

the animals of the latter had likewise disappeared, so had the horse

which I had hitherto rode; the mule, however, of Antonio still remained

fastened to the tree. The latter circumstance quieted some apprehensions

which were beginning to arise in my mind. 'They are gone on some

business of Egypt,' I said to myself, 'and will return anon.' I gathered

together the embers of the fire, and heaping upon them sticks and

branches, soon succeeded in calling forth a blaze, beside which I again

placed the puchero, with what remained of the provision of last night. I

waited for a considerable time in expectation of the return of my

companions, but as they did not appear, I sat down and breakfasted.

Before I had well finished I heard the noise of a horse approaching

rapidly, and presently Antonio made his appearance amongst the trees,

with some agitation in his countenance. He sprang from the horse, and

instantly proceeded to untie the mule. 'Mount, brother, mount!' said he,

pointing to the horse; 'I went with the Callee and her chabes to the

village where the ro is in trouble; the chino-baro, however, seized them

at once with their cattle, and would have laid hands also on me; but I

set spurs to the grasti, gave him the bridle, and was soon far away.

Mount, brother, mount, or we shall have the whole rustic _canaille_ upon

us in a twinkling--it is such a bad place.'"

I almost imagine Borrow would have said, under the circumstances, as he

was putting his foot into the stirrup to mount his horse to fly for his

life into the wild regions of an unknown country:--

"Jesus, lover of my soul,

Let me to Thy bosom fly;

While the nearer waters roll,

While the tempest still is high.

Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,

Till the storm of life is past,

Safe into the haven guide,

Oh, receive my soul at last.

"Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee,

Leave, O leave me not alone,

Still support and comfort me.

All my trust on Thee is stayed,

All my help from Thee I bring,

Cover my defenceless head,

With the shadow of Thy wing."

Sir Walter Scott, in "Guy Mannering," speaking of the dark deeds of the

Gipsies, says:--"The idea of being dragged out of his miserable

concealment by wretches whose trade was that of midnight murder, without

weapons or the slightest means of defence, except entreaties which would

be only their sport, and cries for help which could never reach other ear

than their own--his safety intrusted to the precarious compassion of a

being associated with these felons, and whose trade of rapine and

imposture must have hardened her against every human feeling--the

bitterness of his emotions almost choked him. He endeavoured to read in

her withered and dark countenance, as the lamp threw its light upon her

features, something that promised those feelings of compassion which

females, even in their most degraded state, can seldom altogether

smother. There was no such touch of humanity about this woman."

"'Never fear,' said the old Gipsy man, 'Meg's true-bred; she's the last

in the gang that will start; but she has some queer ways, and often cuts

queer words.' With more of this gibberish, they continued the

conversation, rendering it thus, even to each other, a dark, obscure

dialect, eked out by significant nods and signs, but never expressing

distinctly or in plain language the subject on which it turned."

G. P. Whyte-Melville speaks of the Russian Gipsies in the language of

fiction in his "Interpreter" as follows:--"The morning sun smiles upon a

motley troop journeying towards the Danube. Two or three lithe, supple

urchins, bounding and dancing along with half-naked bodies, and bright

black eyes shining through knotted elf-locks, form the advanced guard.

Half-a-dozen donkeys seem to carry the whole property of the tribe. The

main body consists of sinewy, active-looking men, and strikingly handsome

girls, all walking with the free, graceful air and elastic gait peculiar

to those whose lives are passed entirely in active exercise, under no

roof but that of heaven. Dark-browed women in the very meridian of

beauty bring up the rear, dragging or carrying a race of swarthy progeny,

all alike distinguished for the sparkling eyes and raven hair, which,

with a cunning nothing can overreach, and a nature nothing can tame, seem

to be the peculiar inheritance of the Gipsy. Their costume is striking,

not to say grotesque. Some of the girls, and all the matrons, bind their

brows with various coloured handkerchiefs, which form a very picturesque

and not unbecoming head-gear; whilst in a few instances coins even of

gold are strung amongst the jetty locks of the Zingyni beauties. The men

are not so particular in their attire. One sinewy fellow wears only a

goatskin shirt and a string of beads round his neck, but the generality

are clad in the coarse cloth of the country, much tattered, and bearing

evident symptoms of weather and wear. The little mischievous urchins who

are clinging round their mothers' necks, or dragging back from their

mothers' hands, and holding on to their mothers' skirts, are almost

naked. Small heads and hands and feet, all the marks of what we are

accustomed to term high birth, are hereditary among the Gipsies; and we

doubt if the Queen of the South herself was a more queenly-looking

personage than the dame now marching in the midst of the throng, and

conversing earnestly with her companion, a resolute-looking man scarce

entering upon the prime of life, with a Gipsy complexion, but a bearing

in which it is not difficult to recognise the soldier. He is talking to

his protectress--for such she is--with a military frankness and vivacity,

which even to that royal personage, accustomed though she be to exact all

the respect due to her rank, appear by no means displeasing. The lady is

verging on the autumn of her charms (their summer must have been

scorching indeed!), and though a masculine beauty, is a beauty

nevertheless. Black-browed is she, and deep-coloured, with eyes of fire,

and locks of jet, even now untinged with grey. Straight and regular are

her features, and the wide mouth, with its strong, even dazzling teeth,

betokens an energy and force of will which would do credit to the other

sex. She has the face of a woman that would dare much, labour much,

everything but _love_ much. She ought to be a queen, and she _is_ one,

none the less despotic for ruling over a tribe of Gipsies instead of a

civilised community . . .

"'Every Gipsy can tell fortunes; mine has been told many a time, but it

never came true.'

"She was studying the lines on his palm with earnest attention. She

raised her dark eyes angrily to his face.

"'Blind! blind!' she answered, in a low, eager tone. 'The best of you

cannot see a yard upon your way. Look at that white road, winding and

winding many a mile before us upon the plain. Because it is flat and

soft and smooth as far as we can see, will there be no hills on our

journey, no rocks to cut our feet, no thorns to tear our limbs? Can you

see the Danube rolling on far, far before us? Can you see the river you

will have to cross some day, or can you tell me where it leads? I have

the map of our journey here in my brain; I have the map of your career

here on your hand. Once more I say, when the chiefs are in council, and

the hosts are melting like snow before the sun, and the earth quakes, and

the heavens are filled with thunder, and the shower that falls scorches

and crushes and blasts--remember me! I follow the line of wealth: Man of

gold! spoil on; here a horse, there a diamond; hundreds to uphold the

right, thousands to spare the wrong; both hands full, and broad lands

near a city of palaces, and a king's favour, and a nation of slaves

beneath thy foot. I follow the line of pleasure: costly amber; rich

embroidery; dark eyes melting for the Croat; glances unveiled for the

shaven head, many and loving and beautiful; a garland of roses, all for

one--rose by rose plucked and withered and thrown away; one tender bud

remaining; cherish it till it blows, and wear it till it dies. I follow

the line of blood:--it leads towards the rising sun--charging squadrons

with lances in rest, and a wild shout in a strange tongue; and the dead

wrapped in grey, with charm and amulet that were powerless to save; and

hosts of many nations gathered by the sea--pestilence, famine, despair,

and victory. Rising on the whirlwind, chief among chiefs, the honoured

of leaders, the counsellor of princes--remember me! But ha! the line is

crossed. Beware! trust not the sons of the adopted land; when the lily

is on thy breast, beware of the dusky shadow on the wall! beware, and

remember me!' . . .

"I proffered my hand readily to the Gipsy, and crossed it with one of the

two pieces of silver which constituted the whole of my worldly wealth.

The Gipsy laughed, and began to prophesy in German. There are some

events a child never forgets; and I remember every word she said as well

as if it had been spoken yesterday.

"'Over the sea, and again over the sea; thou shalt know grief and

hardship and losses, and the dove shall be driven from its nest. And the

dove's heart shall become like the eagle's, that flies alone, and fleshes

her beak in the slain. Beat on, though the poor wings be bruised by the

tempest, and the breast be sore, and the heart sink; beat on against the

wind, and seek no shelter till thou find thy resting-place at last. The

time will come--only beat on.'

"The woman laughed as she spoke; but there was a kindly tone in her voice

and a pitying look in her bright eyes that went straight to my heart.

Many a time since, in life, when the storm has indeed been boisterous and

the wings so weary, have I thought of those words of encouragement, 'The

time will come--beat on.' . . .

"'Thou shalt be a "De Rohan," my darling, and I can promise thee no

brighter lot--broad acres, and blessings from the poor, and horses, and

wealth, and honours. And the sword shall spare thee, and the battle turn

aside to let thee pass. And thou shalt wed a fair bride with dark eyes

and a queenly brow; but beware of St. Hubert's Day. Birth and burial,

birth and burial--beware of St. Hubert's Day.'"

Disraeli, speaking of the Gipsies in his "Venetia," says:--"As Cadurcis

approached he observed some low tents, and in a few minutes he was in the

centre of an encampment of Gipsies. He was for a moment somewhat

dismayed, for he had been brought up with the usual terror of these wild

people; nevertheless he was not unequal to the occasion. He was

surrounded in an instant, but only with women and children, for Gipsy men

never immediately appear. They smiled with their bright eyes, and the

flashes of the watch-fire threw a lurid glare over their dark and

flashing countenances; they held out their practised hands; they uttered

unintelligible, but not unfriendly sounds."

Matilda Betham Edwards, in her remarks upon Gipsies, says:--"Your pulses

are quickened to Gipsy pitch, you are ready to make love or war, to heal

and slay, to wander to the world's end, to be outlawed and hunted down,

to dare and do anything for the sake of the sweet, untramelled life of

the tent, the bright blue sky, the mountain air, the free savagedom, the

joyous dance, the passionate friendship, the fiery love."

I come now to notice what a few of the poets have said about these

ignorant, nomadic tribes, who have been skulking and flitting about in

our midst, since the days of Borrow, Roberts, Hoyland, and Crabb--a

period of over forty years.

"He grows, like the young oak, healthy and broad,

With no home but the forest, no bed but the sward;

Half-naked he wades in the limpid stream,

Or dances about in the scorching beam.

The dazzling glare of the banquet sheen

Hath never fallen on him I ween,

But fragments are spread, and the wood pine piled,

And sweet is the meal of the Gipsy child."--ELIZA COOK.

"The Gipsy eye, bright as the star

That sends its light from heaven afar,

Wild with the strains of thy guitar,

This heart with rapture fill.

Then, maiden fair, beneath this star,

Come, touch me with the light guitar.

Thy brow unworked by lines of care,

Decked with locks of raven hair,

Seems ever beautiful and fair

At moonlight's stilly hour.

What bliss! beside the leafy maze,

Illumined by the moon's pale rays,

On thy sweet face to sit and gaze,

Thou wild, uncultured flower.

Then, maiden fair, beneath this star,

Come, touch me with the light guitar."

HUBERT SMITH: "Tent Life in Norway."

"From every place condemned to roam,

In every place we seek a home;

These branches form our summer roof,

By thick grown leaves made weather-proof;

In shelt'ring nooks and hollow ways,

We cheerily pass our winter days.

Come circle round the Gipsy's fire,

Come circle round the Gipsy's fire,

Our songs, our stories never tire,

Our songs, our stories never tire."--REEVE.

"Where is the little Gipsy's home?

Under the spreading greenwood tree,

Wherever she may roam,

Wherever that tree may be.

Roaming the world o'er,

Crossing the deep blue sea,

She finds on every shore,

A home among the free,

A home among the free,

Ah, voila la Gitana, voila la Gitana."--HALLIDAY.

"He checked his steed, and sighed to mark

Her coral lips, her eyes so dark,

And stately bearing--as she had been

Bred up in courts, and born a queen.

Again he came, and again he came,

Each day with a warmer, a wilder flame,

And still again--till sleep by night

For Judith's sake fled his pillow quite."--DELTA.

"A race that lives on prey, as foxes do,

With stealthy, petty rapine; so despised,

It is not persecuted, only spurned,

Crushed under foot, warred on by chance like rats,

Or swarming flies, or reptiles of the sea,

Dragged in the net unsought and flung far off,

To perish as they may."

GEORGE ELIOT: "The Spanish Gipsies," 1865.

"Help me wonder, here's a booke,

Where I would for ever looke.

Never did a Gipsy trace

Smoother lines in hands or face;

Venus here doth Saturne move

That you should be the Queene of Love."

BEN JONSON.

"Fond dreamer, pause! why floats the silvery breath

Of thin, light smoke from yonder bank of heath?

What forms are those beneath the shaggy trees,

In tattered tent, scarce sheltered from the breeze;

The hoary father and the ancient dame,

The squalid children, cowering o'er the flame?

Those were not born by English hearths to dwell,

Or heed the carols of the village bell;

Those swarthy lineaments, that wild attire,

Those stranger tones, bespeak an eastern sire;

Bid us in home's most favoured precincts trace

The houseless children of a homeless race;

And as in warning vision seem to show

That man's best joys are drowned by shades of woe.

"Pilgrims of Earth, who hath not owned the spell

That ever seems around your tents to dwell;

Solemn and thrilling as the nameless dread

That guards the chambers of the silent dead!

The sportive child, if near your camp he stray,

Stands tranced with fear, and heeds no more his play;

To gain your magic aid, the love-sick swain,

With hasty footsteps threads the dusky lane;

The passing traveller lingers, half in sport,

And half in awe beside your savage court,

While the weird hags explore his palm to spell

What varied fates these mystic lines foretell.

"The murmuring streams your minstrel songs supply,

The moss your couch, the oak your canopy;

The sun awakes you as with trumpet-call,

Lightly ye spring from slumber's gentle thrall;

Eve draws her curtain o'er the burning west,

Like forest birds ye sink at once to rest.

"Free as the winds that through the forest rush,

Wild as the flowers that by the wayside blush,

Children of nature wandering to and fro,

Man knows not whence ye came, nor where ye go;

Like foreign weeds cast upon Western strands,

Which stormy waves have borne from unknown lands;

Like the murmuring shells to fancy's ears that tell

The mystic secrets of their ocean cell.

"Drear was the scene--a dark and troublous time--

The Heaven all gloom, the wearied Earth all crime;

Men deemed they saw the unshackled powers of ill

Rage in that storm, and work their perfect will.

Then like a traveller, when the wild wind blows,

And black night flickers with the driving snows,

A stranger people, 'mid that murky gloom,

Knocked at the gates of awe-struck Christendom!

No clang of arms, no din of battle roared

Round the still march of that mysterious horde;

Weary and sad arrayed in pilgrim's guise,

They stood and prayed, nor raised their suppliant eyes.

At once to Europe's hundred shores they came,

In voice, in feature, and in garb the same.

Mother and babe and youth, and hoary age,

The haughty chieftain and the wizard sage;

At once in every land went up the cry,

'Oh! fear us not--receive us or we die!'"

DEAN STANLEY'S PRIZE POEM, 1837: "The Gipsies."