Many of the gypsies profess to dislike the gorgio or non-gypsy, and undoubtedly they do so,—the pity of it is that, as a race, they have had, and still have, cause for it; nevertheless in a number of instances coming under my notice this fact has not prevented them from doing a good turn to those in need outside gypsydom.
As I am dealing with facts only, it will, of course, be understood that I am not endeavouring to depict every gypsy as a saint, nor to persuade the reader that he will be both gladly and kindly received at every encampment he may chance upon; but having gained exceptional knowledge of these people by living amongst them, it would be a contemptible neglect of duty on my part if I forbore to testify to the many good points which I know exist in characters that are too often blackened by prejudiced cowards in different walks of life who feel sure that their victims have little or no chance of defending themselves. No one can deny that there are bad Romanichals, but it must also be admitted that clergymen, barristers, stockbrokers and others are not invariably paragons of virtue.
Prejudice against gypsies has been referred to, and in a great measure it may be considered to have resulted from the teaching that all nomads are knaves as well as vagabonds, which has been ignorantly and, from time out of mind, instilled into the minds of the young.
In turning now to make a cursory survey of the work being done among the gypsies by the Church Army Mission, I would point out that I have “no axe to grind” anyway, but will speak only of what I know, for I have looked in at their meetings, have had frequent opportunities of viewing their methods, both as an outsider and as a gypsy too, and have been one of the gypsy audiences at their lantern lectures. One of such evening lectures is indelibly impressed on my memory.
A “RINKENY CHI.”
In endeavouring to convey an idea of the entertainment and its setting, I must ask the reader to imagine gypsies in ones, twos, threes and irregular parties—assorted in all respects,—age, sex, size and condition,—wending their way in the twilight, along a lane thickly wooded on either hand. It is September, and the teasel heads and seeded umbels of wild angelica stand out, sentinel-wise, along the path leading to the camp where the lecture is to be given. At times it is necessary to pick one’s way very carefully, for darkness is coming on apace, and now and again the young hazels meet overhead, while underfoot it is very muddy and slippery. At last, a sort of clearing is just visible ahead and ever and anon there is wafted by the gentle breeze, a smell as of cooking proceeding, light from camp fires beginning, meanwhile, to play hide-and-seek among the branches of the trees. Upon arriving at the camp one finds that a sheet for the coming pictures is being affixed to the end of a wooden hut; by the time this is in position and the lantern erected, a fair audience has assembled; some are standing, many are squatting on the ground; now our service commences in the usual way, with prayer and the singing of a hymn.
To-night, a story is read while being illustrated by life-model slides, and I need scarcely say that its tendency is wholesome, the suppression of evil, triumph of the right and so on.
It is interesting to hear the occasional remarks of members of the audience as certain pictures are shown, or particular incidents are related.