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

by Walter Simson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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