A History of the Gipsies: with Specimens of the Gipsy Language

by Walter Simson

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

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

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

One drop of blood makes all Gipsydom akin.

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

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

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

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

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

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