Sir Matthew Hale tells us that, on one occasion, at the Suffolk assizes, no less than thirteen Gipsies were executed, under the old Gipsy statutes, a few years before the Restoration.
[319] Perhaps the following passage is the one alluded to by this writer: “I often, when these temptations had been with force upon me, did compare myself to the case of such a child, whom some Gipsy hath by force took up in her arms, and is carrying from friend and country.” Grace abounding. The use of a simile like this confirms the fact that Bunyan belonged to the tribe, rather than that he did not; unless we can imagine that Gipsies, when candid, do not what every other race has done—admit the peculiarities of theirs, while in a previous and barbarous state of existence. His admission confirms a fact generally believed, but sometimes denied, as in the case of the writer in Blackwood’s Magazine, mentioned at [page 375].
Bunyan, doubtless, “dwelt on it with a sort of spiritual exultation,” that he should have been “called”—not “out of Egypt,” but—“out of the tribe,” when, possibly, no others of it, to his knowledge, had been so privileged; but it was, certainly, “most unlikely” he would say that “he belonged to that class of vagabonds.”
[320] It is interesting to notice what these two writers say. If Bunyan’s father was a Gipsy, we may reasonably assume that his mother was one likewise; and, consequently, that Bunyan was one himself, or as Sir Walter Scott expresses it—a “Gipsy reclaimed.” A Gipsy being a question of race, and not a matter of habits, it should be received as one of the simplest of elementary truths, that once a Gipsy, always a Gipsy. We naturally ask, Why has not the fact of Bunyan having been a Gipsy stood on record, for the last two centuries? and, echo answers, Why?
[321] Although Bunyan probably never anticipated being held in high estimation by what are termed the “great ones” of the earth, yet what Southey has said cannot be predicated of him, if we consider the singularity of his origin and history, and the popularity which he enjoyed, as author of the Pilgrim’s Progress; a work affecting the mind of man in every age of the world. Of this work Bunyan writes:
“My Pilgrim’s book has travelled sea and land,
Yet could I never come to understand
That it was slighted, or turned out of door,
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor.
In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother.
In Holland, too, ‘tis said, as I am told,
My Pilgrim is, with some, worth more than gold.
Highlanders and Wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be.
‘Tis in New England under such advance,
Receives there so much loving countenance,
As to be trimmed, new clothed, and decked with gems,
That it may show its features, and its limbs.
Yet more, so public doth my Pilgrim walk,
That of him thousands daily sing and talk.”
[322] Bunsen writes: “Sound judgment is displayed rather in an aptness for believing what is historical, than in a readiness at denying it. . . . . . Shallow minds have a decided propensity to fall into the latter error. Incapability of believing on evidence is the last form of the intellectual imbecility of an enervated age.”
A writer who contributes frequently to “Notes and Queries,” after stating that he has read the works of Grellmann and Hoyland on the Gipsies, adds: “My conclusion is that the tribes have no more right to nationality, race, blood, or language, than the London thieves have—with their slang, some words of which may have their origin in the Hebrew, from their dealings with the lowest order of Jews.”
[323] That the rabble, or “fellows of the baser sort,” should have pelted Bunyan with all sorts of offensive articles, when he commenced to preach the gospel, is what could naturally have been expected; but it sounds strange to read what he has put on record of the abuse heaped upon him, by people professing to be the servants of Him “in whom there is neither Jew nor Greek, bond nor free, male nor female.” See with what Christian humility he alludes to such treatment, as contrasted with the manly indignation which he displayed in repelling slanders. He speaks of “the Lord wiping off such insults at his coming;” when his enemies, with the utmost familiarity and assurance, may approach the judgment-seat, and demand their crowns. “Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?” And it may be answered unto them: “I never knew you; depart from me, ye that work iniquity.”
[324] It is interesting to compare this feeling with that of the lowest order of Spaniards, as described by Mr. Borrow. “The outcast of the prison and the presidio, who calls himself Spaniard, would feel insulted by being termed Gitano, and would thank God that he is not.” [Page 386].