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

by Walter Simson

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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