Some years since, a female, of the name of Ruthven, was in the habit of calling at a farm occupied by one of my brothers. My mother, being interested about the Gipsies, began, on one occasion, to question this female Tinkler, relative to her tribe, and, among other things, asked if she was a Gipsy. “Yes,” replied Ruthven, “I am a Gipsy, and a desperate, murdering race we are. I will let you hear me speak our language, but what the better will you be of that?” She accordingly uttered a few sentences, and then said, “Now, are you any the wiser of what you have heard? But that infant,” pointing to her child of about five years of age, “understands every word I speak.” “I know,” continued the Tinkler, “that the public are trying to find out the secrets of the Gipsies, but it is in vain.” This woman further stated that her tribe would be exceedingly displeased, were it known that any of their fraternity taught their language to “strangers.”[195] She also mentioned that the Gipsies believe that the laws which were enacted for their extirpation were yet in full force against them. I may mention, however, that she could put confidence in the family in whose house she made these confessions.

On another occasion, a female, with three or four children, the eldest of whom was not above ten years of age, came up to me while speaking to an innkeeper, on a public pier on the banks of the Forth. She stated to us that her property had been burned to the ground, and her family reduced to beggary, and solicited charity of us both. After receiving a few half-pence from the innkeeper, she continued her importunities with an unusual impertinence, and hung upon me for a contribution. Her barefaced conduct displeased me. I thought I would put her to the test, and try if she was not a Gipsy. Deepening the tone of my voice, I called out to her, in an angry manner, “Sallah, jaw drom“—(“Curse you, take the road.”) The woman instantly wheeled about, uttered not another word, but set off, with precipitation; and so alarmed were her children, that they took hold of her clothes, to hasten and pull her out of my presence; calling to her, at the same time, “Mother, mother, come away.” Mine host, the innkeeper, was amazed at the effectual manner in which I silenced and dismissed the importunate and troublesome beggars. He was anxious that I should teach him the unknown words that had so terrified the poor Gipsies; with the design, it appeared to me, of frightening others, should they molest him with their begging. Had I not proved this family by the language, it was impossible for any one to perceive that the group were Gipsies.

In prosecuting my enquiries into the existence of the Gipsy language, I paid a visit to Lochgellie, once the residence of four or five families of Gipsies, as already mentioned, and procured an interview with young Andrew Steedman, a member of the tribe. At first, he appeared much alarmed, and seemed to think I had a design to do him harm. His fears, however, were in a short while calmed; and, after much reluctance, he gave me the following words and expressions, with the corresponding English significations. Like a true Gipsy, the first expression which he uttered, as if it came the readiest to him, was, “Choar a chauvie“—(“rob that person”) which he pronounced with a smile on his countenance.

The first expression which the Gipsies use in saluting one another, when they first meet, anywhere, is “Auteenie, auteenie.” Steedman, however, did not give me the English of this salutation. He stated to me that, at the present day, the Gipsies in Scotland, when by themselves, transact their business in their own language, and hold all their ordinary conversations in the same speech. In the course of a few minutes, Steedman’s fears returned upon him. He appeared to regret what he had done. He now said he had forgotten the language, and referred me to his father, old Andrew Steedman, who, he said, would give me every information I might require. I imprudently sent him out, to bring the old man to me; for, when both returned, all further communication, with regard to their speech, was at an end. Both were now dead silent on the subject, denied all knowledge of the Gipsy language, and were evidently under great alarm. The old man would not face me at all; and when I went to him, he appeared to be shaking and trembling, while he stood at the head of his horses, in his own stable. Young Steedman entreated me to tell no one that he had given me any words, as the Tinklers, he said, would be exceedingly displeased with him for doing so. This man, however, by being kindly treated, and seeing no intention of doing him any harm, became, at an after period, communicative on various subjects relative to the Gipsies.

The following are the words which I obtained during an hour’s interrogation of the woman that baffled me for seven years, and of whom I have said something already:

I observed to this woman that her language would, in course of time, be lost. She replied, with great seriousness, “It will never be forgotten, sir; it is in our hearts, and as long as a single Tinkler exists, it will be remembered.” I further enquired of her, how many of her tribe were in Scotland. Her answer was, “There are several thousand; and there are many respectable shop-keepers and house-holders in Scotland that are Gipsies.” I requested of this woman the Gipsy word for God.[196] She said they had no corresponding word for God in their speech; adding, that she thought “it as well, as it prevented them having their Maker’s name often unnecessarily and sinfully in their mouths.” She acknowledged the justice, and highly approved of the punishment of death for murder; but she condemned, most bitterly, the law that took away the lives of human beings for stealing. She dwelt on the advantages which her secret speech gave her tribe in transacting business in markets. She said that she was descended from the first Gipsy family in Scotland. I was satisfied that she was sprung from the second, if not the first, family. I could make out, with tolerable certainty, the links of her descent for four generations of Gipsies. I have already described the splendid style in which her ancestors travelled in Tweed-dale. Her mother, above eighty years of age, also called at my house. Both were fortune-tellers. It was evident, from this woman’s manner, that she knew much she would not communicate. Like the Gipsy chief, in presence of Dr. Bright, at Csurgo, in Hungary, she, in a short time, became impatient; and, apparently, when a certain hour arrived, she insisted upon being allowed to depart. She would not submit to be questioned any longer.

Owing to the nature of my enquiries, and more particularly the fears of the tribe, I could seldom venture to question the Gipsies regarding their speech, or their ancient customs, with any hope of receiving satisfactory answers, when a third party was present. The following, however, is an instance to the contrary; and the facts witnessed by the gentleman who was with me at the time, are, besides the testimony of the Gipsies themselves, convincing proofs that these people, at the present day, in Scotland, can converse among themselves, on any ordinary subject, in their own language, without making use of a single word of the English tongue.[197]

In May, 1829, while near the manse of Inverkeithing, my friend and I accidentally fell in, on the high road, with four children, the youngest of whom appeared to be about four, and the eldest about thirteen, years of age. They were accompanied by a woman, about twenty years old, who had the appearance of being married, but not the mother of any of the children with her. Not one of the whole party could have been taken for a Gipsy, but all had the exact appearance of being the family of some indigent tradesman or labourer. Excepting the woman, whose hair was dark, all of the company had hair of a light colour, some of them inclining to yellow, with fair complexions. In not one of their countenances could be seen those features by which many pretend the Gipsies can, at all times, be distinguished from the rest of the community. The manner, however, in which the woman, at first, addressed me, created in my mind a suspicion that she was one of the tribe. In order to ascertain the fact, I put a question to her in Gipsy, in such a manner that it might appear to her that I was quite certain she was one of the fraternity. She immediately smiled at my question, held down her head, cast her eyes to the ground, then appeared as if she had been detected in something wrong, and pretended not to understand what I said. One of the children, however, being thrown entirely off his guard, immediately said to her, “You know quite well what he says.” The woman, recovering from her surprise and confusion, and being assured she had nothing to fear from me, now answered my question. She also replied to every other interrogation I put to her, without showing the least fear or hesitation. After I had repeated a few words more, and a sentence in the Gipsy tongue, one of the boys exclaimed, “He has good cant!” and then addressed me entirely in the Gipsy language. (All the Gipsies, as I have already mentioned, call their language cant, for the purpose of concealing their tribe.) The whole party seemed extremely happy that I was acquainted with their speech. The woman put several questions to me, in return, some of which were wholly in her own peculiar tongue. She asked my name, place of residence, and whether I was a nawken—that is a Gipsy. She further enquired whether my friend was also a nawken; adding, with a smile, that she was sure I was a tramper. The children sometimes conversed among themselves wholly in their own language; and, when I could not understand the woman, as she requested, in her own speech, to know my name, &c., one of them instantly interpreted the sentence into English for me. One of the oldest boys, however, thinking I was only pretending to be ignorant of their speech, observed, in English, to his companions, “I am sure he is a tramper, and can speak as good cant as any of us.” To keep up the character, my friend told them that I had been a tramper in my youth, but that I had now nearly lost the language. On hearing this, the woman, with great earnestness, exclaimed, “God bless the gentleman!” In order to confirm their belief that I was one of their tribe, I bade the woman good-day in her own tongue, and parted with them. She informed me, on leaving, that she resided at Banff, but that her husband was then at Perth.