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

by Walter Simson

While Campbell was on his way to a market in Perth, he fell in with Captain McDonald. Being unacquainted with the character of his fellow-traveller, the unsuspecting man told him, among other things, that he had just as much money in his pocket as would purchase one horse, for his four-horse plough, having other three at home. McDonald heard all this with patience till he came to a solitary part of the road, when, all at once, he turned upon the astonished farmer, and demanded his money. The poor man, having no alternative, immediately produced his purse. But in parting, the robber desired him to call next day at a certain house in Perth, where he would find a person who might be of some service to him. Campbell promised to do as desired, and called at the house appointed, and great was his surprise, when, on being ushered into a room, he found himself face to face with the late robber, sitting with a large bowl of smoking toddy before him. The Gipsy, in a frank and hearty manner, invited his visitor to sit down and share his toddy with him; a request which he readily complied with, although bewildered with the idea of the probable fate of his purse, and the result of his personal adventure. He had scarcely got time, however, to swallow one glass, before he was relieved of his suspense, by the Gipsy returning him every farthing of the money he had robbed him of the day before. Being now pleased with his good fortune, and the Gipsy pressing him to drink, Campbell was in no hurry to be gone, his spirits having become elevated with his good cheer, and the confidence with which his host’s conduct had inspired him. But his suspicions returned upon him, as he saw pocket-book after pocket-book brought in to his entertainer, during the time he was enjoying his hospitality. The Gipsy chief was, in fact, but following a very important branch of his calling, and was, on that day, doing a considerable business, having a number of youths ferreting for him in the market, and coming in and going out constantly.

But this crafty Gipsy, and his brother-in-law, Jamieson, were at last apprehended for house-breaking and robbery. Their trials took place at Edinburgh, on the 9th and 13th of August, 1770, and “the fame of being Egyptians” made part of the charge against them in the indictment; a charge well founded, as both of them spoke the “right Egyptian language.” It was the last instance, I believe, that the fact of their being “called, known, repute, and holden Egyptians,” made part of the indictment against any of the tribe in Scotland, under the sanguinary statute of James VI, chap. 13, passed in 1609. So cunning are the Gipsies, however, in committing crimes, that, in this instance, the criminals, it was understood, would have escaped justice, for want of sufficient proof, had not one of their own band, of the name of Jamieson, a youth of about twenty-two years of age, turned king’s evidence against his associates. The two unhappy men were then found guilty by the jury, and condemned to die. They were ordered to be executed at Linlithgow bridge, near the very spot where their band had their principal rendezvous, with the apparent object of daunting their incorrigible race.

Immediately after the trial, a report was spread, and generally believed, that the Gipsies would attempt a rescue of the criminals on the way to execution, or even from under the gallows itself; and it was particularly mentioned that thirty stout and desperate members of the race had undertaken to set their chieftains free. Every precaution was therefore taken, by the authorities, to prevent any such attempt being made. A large proportion of the gentlemen and farmers of the shire of Linlithgow were requested, with what arms they could procure, to attend, on foot or horseback, the execution of the desperate Tinklers. Indeed, every third man of all the fencible men of the county was called upon to appear on the occasion; while a company of pensioners, with a commissioned officer at their head, and a strong body of the military, completed the force deemed necessary for the due execution of justice. Besides guarding against the possibility of a rescue on the part of the Gipsies, it was generally understood that the steps taken by the authorities, in bringing together so large a body of men, had in view the object of exhibiting to the people the ignominious death of two men who had not only been allowed to remain among them, but, in many instances, countenanced by some of the most respectable inhabitants of the county; and that not only in out-door amusements, but even in some of the special hospitalities of daily life, while in fact they were nothing but the leaders of a band of notorious thieves and robbers.

These precautions being completed, the condemned Gipsies were bound hand and foot, and conveyed, by the sheriff of Edinburgh and a company of the military, to the boat-house bridge, on the river Almond—the boundary of the two counties—and there handed over to the sheriff of Linlithgow; under whose guard they were carried to the jail of the town of Linlithgow, and securely bound in irons, to wait their execution on the morrow.[92] As night approached, fires were kindled at the door of the prison, and guards posted in the avenues leading to the building, while all the entrances to the town were guarded, and all ingress and egress prohibited, as if the burgh had been in a state of siege. So strictly were these orders put in force, that many of the inhabitants of Bo’ness, who had gone to Linlithgow, to view the bustle occasioned by the assemblage of so great a number of armed men, were forced to remain in the town over night; so alarmed were the authorities for the onset of the resolute Gipsies. It was soon perceived, by some sagacious individuals, that the fires would do more harm than good, as the light would show the prison, expose the sentinels, and guide the Gipsy bands. They were accordingly extinguished, and the guards placed in such positions as would enable them, with the most advantage, to repel any attack that might be attempted: yet the enemy that caused all this alarm and precaution was nowhere visible.

On the following morning, McDonald’s wife requested permission to visit her husband before being led to execution, with what particular object can only be conjectured; a favour which was readily granted her, in the company of a magistrate. On beholding the object of her affection, she became overwhelmed with grief; she threw her arms around his neck, and embraced him most tenderly; and after giving vent to her sorrow in sobs and tears, she tore herself from him, and, turning to the magistrate, exclaimed, with a bursting heart, “Is he not a pretty man? What a pity it is to hang him!”

Arrangements were then made to carry the prisoners to the place of execution, at the bridge of Linlithgow, which lay about a mile from the town. The armed force was drawn up at the town-cross, and those who carried muskets were ordered to load them with ball cartridge, and hold themselves ready, at the word of command, upon the least appearance of an attempt at rescue, to fire upon the aggressors. The whole scene presented such an alarming and war-like appearance, that the people of the town and surrounding country compared it to the bustle and military parade which took place, twenty-five years before, when the rebel army made its appearance in the neighbourhood. The judicious arrangements adopted by the officers of the crown had the desired effect; for not the slightest symptom of disturbance, not even a movement, was observed among the Gipsies, either on the night before, or on the morning of the execution. The formidable armed bands, ready to overwhelm the presumptuous Gipsies, clearly showed them that they had not the shadow of a chance for carrying out their intended rescue. All was peace and silence throughout the immense crowd surrounding the gallows, patiently waiting the appearance of the criminals. In due time the condemned made their appearance, in a cart, accompanied by Charles and James Jamieson, two youths, sitting beside their father and uncle, busily eating rolls, and, to all appearance, totally indifferent to the fate of their relatives, and the awful circumstances surrounding them.

On ascending the platform, Jamieson’s demeanour was suitable to the circumstances in which he found himself placed; but McDonald appeared quite unconcerned. He was observed frequently to turn a quid of tobacco in his mouth, and squirt the juice of it around him; it was even evident, from his manner, that he expected to be delivered from the gallows by his tribe; and more especially as he had been frequently heard to say that the hemp was not grown that would hang him. He then began to look frequently and wistfully around him for the expected aid, yet none made its appearance; and his heart began to sink within him. Indeed, the overwhelming force then surrounding him rendered a deliverance impossible. Every hope having failed him, and seeing his end at hand, McDonald resigned himself, with great firmness, to his fate, and exclaimed: “I have neither friends on my right hand nor on my left; I see I now must die.” Jamieson, who appeared from the first never to indulge in vain expectations of being rescued, exclaimed to his fellow-sufferer: “Sandie, Sandie! it is all over with us, and I told you so long ago.” McDonald then turned to the executioner, whose name was John Livingston, and dropping into his hand something, supposed to be money, undauntedly said to him: “Now, John, don’t bungle your job.” Both of the unhappy men were then launched into eternity. Ever afterwards, the inhabitants of Linlithgow pestered the hangman, by calling to him: “Now, John, don’t bungle your job. What was it the Tinkler gave you, John?”[93]

McDonald’s wife had stood by, a quiet spectator, among the promiscuous crowd, of the melancholy scene displayed before her. But when she had witnessed the closing act of an eventful life—the heroism and fortitude which all she held as dear displayed in his last moments—and enjoyed the satisfaction which it had given her, nature, which the odium of her fellow-creatures, not of her blood, could not destroy, burst forth with genuine expression. The silence attending the awful tragedy was abruptly broken by the lamentable yells and heart-rending screams which she gave vent to, as she beheld her husband turned off the scaffold. Two gentlemen, who were present, informed me that she foamed at the mouth, and tore her hair out of her head, and was so completely frantic with grief and rage, that the spectators were afraid to go near her.

On the bodies being taken down from the scaffold, an attempt was made to restore them to life, by opening a vein, but without effect. It is said they were buried in the moor near Linlithgow, by the Gipsies, and that the magistrates of the town ordered them to be taken up, and interred in the east end of the church-yard of Linlithgow. However that may be, the bodies were buried in the church-yard of Linlithgow; but the populace, delivered from the terror with which these daring Gipsies inspired them, treated with ignominy the remains of those whom they dared scarcely look in the face when alive. They dug them out of the place of Christian sepulture, and interred them in a solitary field in the neighbourhood. A clump of trees, I believe, marks the spot, and the gloomy pine now waves, in the winds of heaven, over the silent and peaceful graves of the restless and lawless Gipsies.

McDonald, it would appear, was married, first of all, to a daughter of a Gipsy of the name of Eppie Lundie, with whom he lived unhappy, and was divorced from her over a horse sacrificed for the occasion, a ceremony which I will describe in another [chapter].[94] He was more fortunate in his second matrimonial alliance, for, in Ann Jamieson, he found a wife after his own heart in every way. Previous to his own execution, she had witnessed the violent deaths of at least six of her own nearest relatives. But, if anything could have influenced, in the slightest degree, a reformation in her own character, it would have been the melancholy scene attending his miserable end; yet, we find it had not the slightest effect upon her after career, for she continued, to the last, to follow the practices of her race, as an anecdote told of her will show.