That the “mixed multitude” travelled into India, acquired the language of that part of Asia, and, perhaps, modified its appearance there, and became the origin of the Gipsy race, we may very safely assume. This much is certain, that they are not Sudras, but a very ancient tribe, distinct from every other in the world. With the exception of the Jews, we have no certainty of the origin of any people; in every other case it is conjecture; even the Hungarians know nothing of their origin; and it is not wonderful that it should be the same with the Gipsies. Everything harmonizes so beautifully with the idea that the Gipsies are the “mixed multitude” of the Exodus, that it may be admitted by the world. Even in the matter of religion, we could imagine Egyptian captives losing a knowledge of their religion, as has happened with the Africans in the New World, and, not having had another taught them, leaving Egypt under Moses, without any religion at all.[312] After entering India, they would, in all probability, become a wandering people, and, for a certainty, live aloof from all others.

While the history of the Jews, since the dispersion, greatly illustrates that of the Gipsies, so does the history of the Gipsies greatly illustrate that of the Jews. They greatly resemble each other. Jews shuffle, when they say that the only difference between an Englishman and an English Jew, is in the matter of creed; for there is a great difference between the two, whatever they may have in common, as men born and reared on the same soil. The very appearance of the two is palpable proof that they are not of the same race. The Jew invariably, and unavoidably, holds his “nation” to mean the Jewish people, scattered over the world; and is reared in the idea that he is, not only in creed, but in blood, distinct from other men; and that, in blood and creed, he is not to amalgamate with them, let him live where he may. Indeed, what England is to an Englishman, this universally scattered people is to the Jew; what the history of England is to an Englishman, the Bible is to the Jew; his nation being nowhere in particular, but everywhere, while its ultimate destiny he, more or less, believes to be Palestine. Now, an Englishman has not only been born an Englishman, but his mind has been cast in a mould that makes him an Englishman; so that, to persecute him, on the ground of his being an Englishman, is to persecute him for that which can never be changed. It is precisely so with the Jew. His creed does not amount to much, for it is only part of the history of his race, or the law of his nation, traced to, and emanating from, one God, and Him the true God, as distinguished from the gods and lords many of other nations: such is the nature of the Jewish theocracy. To persecute a Gipsy, for being a Gipsy, would likewise be to persecute him for that which he could not help; for to prevent a person being a Gipsy, in the most important sense of the word, it would be necessary to take him, when an infant, and rear him entirely apart from his own race, so that he should never hear the “wonderful story,” nor have his mind filled with the Gipsy electric fluid. An English Gipsy went abroad, very young, as a soldier, and was many years from home, without having had a Gipsy companion, so that he had almost forgotten that he was a Gipsy; but, on his returning home, other Gipsies applied their magnetic battery to him, and gipsyfied him over again. A town Gipsy will occasionally send a child to a Gipsy hedge-schoolmaster, for the purpose of being extra gipsyfied.

The being a Gipsy, or a Jew, or a Gentile, consists in birth and rearing. The three may be born and brought up under one general roof, members of their respective nationalities, yet all good Christians. But the Jew, by becoming a Christian, necessarily cuts himself off from associations with the representative part of his nation; for Jews do not tolerate those who forsake the synagogue, and believe in Christ, as the Messiah having come; however much they may respect their children, who, though born into the Christian Church, and believing in its doctrines, yet maintain the inherent affection for the associations connected with the race, and more especially if they also occupy distinguished positions in life. So intolerant, indeed, are Jews of each other, in the matter of each choosing his own religion, extending sometimes to assassination in some countries, and invariably to the crudest persecutions in families, that they are hardly justified in asking, and scarcely merit, toleration for themselves, as a people, from the nations among whom they live. The present Disraeli doubtless holds himself to be a Jew, let his creed or Christianity be what it may; if he looks at himself in his mirror, he cannot deny it. We have an instance in the Cappadoce family becoming, and remaining for several generations, Christians, then returning to the synagogue, and, in another generation, joining the Christian church. The same vicissitude may attend future generations of this family. There should be no great obstacle in the way of it being allowed to pass current in the world, like any other fact, that a person can be a Jew and, at the same time, a Christian; as we say that a man can be an Englishman and a Christian, a McGregor and a Christian, a Gipsy and a Christian, or a Jew and a Christian, even should he not know when his ancestors attended the synagogue. Christianity was not intended, nor is it capable, to destroy the nationality of Jews, as individuals, or as a nation, any more than that of other people. We may even assume that a person, having a Jew for one parent, and a Christian for another, and professing the Christian faith, and having the influences of the Jew exercised over him from his infancy, cannot fail, with his blood and, it may be, physiognomy, to have feelings peculiar to the Jews; although he may believe them as blind, in the matter of religion, as do other Christians. But separate him, after the death of the Jewish parent, from all associations with Jews, and he may gradually lose those peculiarly Jewish feelings that are inseparable from a Jewish community, however small it may be. There are, then, no circumstances, out of and independent of himself and the other members of his family, to constitute him a Jew; and still less can it be so with his children, when they marry with ordinary Christians, and never come in intimate contact with Jews. The Jewish feeling may be ultimately crossed out in this way; I say ultimately, for it does not take place in the first descent, (and that is as far as my personal knowledge goes,) even although the mother is an ordinary Christian, and the children have been brought up exclusively to follow her religion.

Gipsydom, however, goes with the individual, and keeps itself alive in the family, and the private associations of life, let its creed be what it may; the original cast of mind, words, and signs, always remaining with itself. In this respect, the Gipsy differs from every other man. He cannot but know who he is to start life with, nor can he forget it; he has those words and signs within himself which, as he moves about in the world, he finds occasion to use. A Jew may boast of the peculiar cast of countenance by which his race is generally characterized, and how his nation is kept together by a common blood, history, and creed. But the phenomenon connected with the history of the Gipsy race is more wonderful than that which is connected with the Jewish; inasmuch as, let the blood of the Gipsy become as much mixed as it may, it always preserves its Gipsy identity; although it may not have the least outward resemblance to an original Gipsy. You cannot crush or cross out the Gipsy race; so thoroughly subtle, so thoroughly adaptable, so thoroughly capable, is it to evade every weapon that can be forged against it. The Gipsy soul, in whatever condition it may be found, or whatever may be the tabernacle which it may inhabit, is as independent, now, of those laws which regulate the disappearance of certain races among others, as when it existed in its wild state, roaming over the heath. The Gipsy race, in short, absorbs, but cannot be absorbed by, other races.

In my associations with Gipsies and Jews, I find that both races rest upon the same basis, viz.: a question of people. The response of the one, as to who he is, is that he is a Gipsy; and of the other, that he is a Jew. Each of them has a peculiarly original soul, that is perfectly different from each other, and others around them; a soul that passes as naturally and unavoidably into each succeeding generation of the respective races, as does the soul of the English or any other race into each succeeding generation. For each considers his nation as abroad upon the face of the earth; which circumstance will preserve its existence amid all the revolutions to which ordinary nations are subject. As they now exist within, and independent of, the nations among whom they live, so will they endure, if these nations were to disappear under the subjection of other nations, or become incorporated with them under new names. Many of the Gipsies and Jews might perish amid such convulsions, but those that survived would constitute the stock of their respective nations; while others might migrate from other countries, and contribute to their numbers. In the case of the Gipsy nation, as it gets crossed with common blood, the issue shows the same result as does the shaking of the needle on the card—it always turns to the pole: that pole, among the Gipsies, being a sense of its blood, and a sympathy with the same people in every part of the world. For this reason, the Gipsy race, like the Jewish, may, with regard to its future, be said to be even eternal.

The Gipsy soul is fresh and original, not only from its recent appearance in Europe, without any traditional knowledge of its existence anywhere else, but from having sprung from so singular an origin as a tent; so that the mystery that attaches to it, from those causes, and the contemplation of the Gipsy, in his original state, to-day, present to the Gipsy that fascination for his own history which the Jew finds in the antiquity of his race, and the exalted privileges with which it was at one time visited. The civilized Gipsy looks upon his ancestors, as they appeared in Europe generally, and Scotland especially, as great men, as heroes who scorned the company of anything below a gentleman. And he is not much out of the way; for John Faw, and Towla Bailyow, and the others mentioned in the act of 1540, were unquestionably heroes of the first water. He pictures to himself these men as so many swarthy, slashing heroes, dressed in scarlet and green, armed with pistols and broad-swords, mounted on blood-horses, with hawks and hounds in their train. True to nature, every Gipsy is delighted with his descent, no matter what other people, in their ignorance of the subject, may think of it, or what their prejudices may be in regard to it. One of the principal differences to be drawn between the history of the Gipsies and that of the Jews, is, as I have already stated, that the Jews left Palestine a civilized people, while the Gipsies entered Europe, in the beginning of the fifteenth century, in a barbarous state. But the difference is only of a relative nature; for when the Gipsies emerge from their original condition, they occupy as good positions in the world as the Jews; while they have about them none of those outward peculiarities of the Jews, that make them, in a manner, offensive to other people. In every sense but that of belonging to the Gipsy tribe, they are ordinary natives; for the circumstances that have formed the characters of the ordinary natives have formed theirs. Besides this, there is a degree of dignity about the general bearing of such people, rough as it sometimes is, that plainly shows that they are no common fellows, at least that they do not hold themselves to be such. For it is to be remarked, that such people do not directly apply to themselves the prejudice which exists towards what the world understands to be Gipsies; however much they may infer that such would be directed against them, should the world discover that they belonged to the tribe. In this respect, they differ from Jews, all of whom apply to themselves the prejudice of the rest of their species; which exercises so depressing an influence upon the character of a people. Indeed, one will naturally look for certain general superior points of character in a man who has fairly emerged from a wild and barbarous state, which he will not be so apt to find in another who has fallen from a higher position in the scale of nations, which the Jew has unquestionably done. A Jew, no matter what he thinks of the long-gone-by history of his race, looks upon it, now, as a fallen people; while the Gipsy has that subdued but, at heart, consequential, extravagance of ideas, springing from the wild independence and vanity of his ancestors, which frequently finds a vent in a lavish and foolish expenditure, so as not to be behind others in his liberality. A very good idea of such a cast of character may be formed from that of the superior class of Gipsies mentioned by our author, when the descendants of such have been brought up under more favourable circumstances, and enjoyed all the advantages of the ordinary natives of the country.

In considering the phenomenon of the existence of the Jews since the dispersion, I am not inclined to place it on any other basis than I would that of the Gipsies; for, with both, it is substantially a question of people. They are a people, scattered over the world, like the Gipsies, and have a history—the Bible, which contains both their history and their laws; and these two contain their religion. It would, perhaps, be more correct to say, that the religion of the Jews is to be found in the Talmud, and the other human compositions, for which the race have such a superstitious reverence; and even these are taken as interpreted by the Rabbis. A Jew has, properly speaking, little of a creed. He believes in the existence of God, and in Moses, his prophet, and observes certain parts of the ceremonial law, and some holidays, commemorative of events in the history of his people. He is a Jew, in the first place, as a simple matter of fact, and, as he grows up, he is made acquainted with the history of his race, to which he becomes strongly attached. He then holds himself to be one of the “first-born of the Lord,” one of the “chosen of the Eternal,” one of the “Lord’s aristocracy;” expressions of amazing import, in his worldly mind, that will lead him to almost die for his faith; while his religion is of a very low natural order, “standing only in meats and drinks, and divers washings, and carnal ordinances,” suitable for a people in a state of pupilage. The Jewish mind, in the matter of religion, is, in some respects, preëminently gross and material in its nature; its idea of a Messiah rising no higher than a conqueror of its own race, who will bring the whole world under his sway, and parcel out, among his fellow-Jews, a lion’s share of the spoils, consisting of such things as the inferior part of human nature so much craves for. And his ideas of how this Messiah is to be connected with the original tribes, as mentioned in the prophecies, are childish and superstitious in the extreme. Writers do, therefore, greatly err, when they say, that it is only a thin partition that separates Judaism from Christianity. There is almost as great a difference between the two, as there is between that which is material, and that which is spiritual. A Jew is so thoroughly bound, heart and soul, by the spell which the phenomena of his race exert upon him, that, humanly speaking, it is impossible to make anything of him in the matter of Christianity. And herein, in his own way of thinking, consists his peculiar glory. Such being the case with Christianity, it is not to be supposed that the Jew would forsake his own religion, and, of course, his own people, and believe in any religion having an origin in the spontaneous and gradual growth of superstition and imposture, modified, systematized, adorned, or expanded, by ambitious and superior minds, or almost wholly in the conceptions of these minds; having, for a foundation, an instinct—an intellectual and emotional want—as common to man, as instinct is to the brute creation, for the ends which it has to serve. We cannot separate the questions of race and belief, when we consider the Jews as a people, however it might be with individuals among them. It was as unreasonable to persecute a Jew, for not giving up his feelings as a Jew, and his religion, for the superstitions and impostures of Rome, as it was to persecute a Gipsy, for not giving up his feelings of nationality, and his language, as was specially attempted by Charles III., of Spain: for such are inherent in the respective races. The worst that can be said of any Gipsy, in the matter of religion, is, when we meet with one who admits that all that he really cares for is, “to get a good belly-full, and to feel comfortable o’ nights.” Here, we have an original soil to be cultivated; a soil that can be cultivated, if we only go the right way about doing it. Out of such a man, there is no other spirit to be cast, but that of “the world, the flesh, and the devil,” before another can take up its habitation in his mind. Bigoted as is the Jew against even entertaining the claims of Christ, as the Messiah, he is very indifferent to the practice, or even the knowledge, of his own religion, where he is tolerated and well-treated, as in the United States of America. Of the growing-up, or even the grown-up, Jews in that country, the ultra-Jewish organ, the “Jewish Messenger,” of New York, under date the 19th October, 1860, says that, “with the exception of a very few, who are really taught their religion, the great majority, we regret to state, know no more of their faith than the veriest heathen:” and, I might add, practise less of it; for, as a people, they pay very little regard to it, in general, or to the Sabbath, in particular, but are characterized as worldly beyond measure; having more to answer for than the Gipsy, whose sole care is “a good meal, and a comfortable crib at night.”[313]

Amid all the obloquy and contempt cast upon his race, amid all the persecutions to which it has been exposed, the Jew, with his inherent conceit in having Abraham for his father, falls back upon the history of his nation, with the utmost contempt for everything else that is human; forgetting that there is such a thing as the “first being last.” He boasts that his race, and his only, is eternal, and that all other men get everything from him! He vainly imagines that the Majesty of Heaven should have made his dispensations to mankind conditional upon anything so unworthy as his race has so frequently shown itself to be. If he has been so favoured by God, what can he point to as the fruits of so much loving-kindness shown him? What is his nation now, however numerous it may be, but a ruin, and its members, but spectres that haunt it? And what has brought it to its present condition? “Its sins.” Doubtless, its sins; but what particular sins? And how are these sins to be put away, seeing that the temple, the high-priesthood, and the sacrifices no longer exist? Or what effort, by such means as offer, has ever been made to mitigate the wrath of God, and prevail upon Him to restore the people to their exalted privileges? Or what could they even propose doing, to bring about that event? Questions like these involve the Jewish mind in a labyrinth of difficulties, from which it cannot extricate itself. The dispersion was not only foretold, but the cause of it given. The Scriptures declare that the Messiah was to have appeared before the destruction of the temple; and the time of his expected advent, according to Jewish traditions, coincided with that event. It is eighteen centuries since the destruction of the temple, before which the Messiah was to have come; and the Jew still “hopes against hope,” and, if it is left to himself, will do so till the day of judgment, for such a Messiah as his earthly mind seems to be only capable of contemplating. Has he never read the New Testament, and reflected on the sufferings of him who was meek and lowly, or on those of his disciples, inflicted by his ancestors, for generations, when he has come complaining of the sufferings to which his race has been exposed? He is entitled to sympathy, for all the cruelties with which his race has been visited; but he could ask it with infinitely greater grace, were he to offer any for the sufferings of the early Christians and their divine master, or were he, even, to tolerate any of his race following him to-day.

What has the Jew got to say to all this? He cannot now say that his main comfort and support, in his unbelief, consists in his contemplating what he vainly calls a miracle, wrapt up in the history of his people, since the dispersion. That prop and comfort are gone. No, O Jew! the true miracle, if miracle there is, is your impenitent unbelief. No one asks you to disbelieve in Moses, but, in addition to believing in Moses, to believe in him of whom Moses wrote. Do you really believe in Moses? You, doubtless, believe after a sort; you believe in Moses, as any other person believes in the history of his own country and people; but your belief in Moses goes little further. You glory in the antiquity of your race, and imagine that every other has perished. No, O Jew! the “mixed multitude” which left Egypt, under Moses, separated from him, and passed into India, has come up, in these latter times, again to vex you. Even it is entering, it may be, pressing, into the Kingdom of God, and leaving you out of it. Yes! the people from the “hedges and by-ways” are submitting to the authority of the true Messiah; while you, in your infatuated blindness, are denying him.

What may be termed the philosophy of the Gipsies, is very simple in itself, when we have before us its main points, its principles, its bearings, its genius; and fully appreciated the circumstances with which the people are surrounded. The most remarkable thing about the subject is, that people never should have dreamt of its nature, but, on the contrary, believed that “the Gipsies are gradually disappearing, and will soon become extinct.” The Gipsies have always been disappearing, but where do they go to? Look at any tent of Gipsies, when the family are all together, and see how prolific they are. What, then, becomes of this encrease? The present work answers the question. It is a subject, however, which I have found some difficulty in getting people to understand. One cannot see how a person can be a Gipsy, “because his father was a respectable man;” another, “because his father was an old soldier;” and another cannot see “how it necessarily follows that a person is a Gipsy, for the reason that his parents were Gipsies.” The idea, as disconnected from the use of a tent, or following a certain kind of life, may be said to be strange to the world; and, on that account, is not very easily impressed on the human mind. It would be singular, however, if a Scotchman, after all that has been said, should not be able to understand what is meant by the Scottish Gipsy tribe, or that it should ever cease to be that tribe as it progresses in life. In considering the subject, he need not cast about for much to look at, for he should exercise his mind, rather than his eyes, when he approaches it. It is, principally, a mental phenomenon, and should, therefore, be judged of by the faculties of the mind: for a Gipsy may not differ a whit from an ordinary native, in external appearance or character, while, in his mind, he may be as thorough a Gipsy as one could well imagine.

In contemplating the subject of the Gipsies, we should have a regard for the facts of the question, and not be led by what we might, or might not, imagine of it; for the latter course would be characteristic of people having the moral and intellectual traits of children. The race might, to a certain extent, be judged analogously, by what we know of other races; but that which is pre-eminently necessary, is to judge of it by facts: for facts, in a matter like this, take precedence of everything. Even in regard to the Gipsy language, broken as it is, people are very apt to say that it cannot exist at the present day; yet the least reflection will convince us, that the language which the Gipsies use is the remains of that which they brought with them into Europe, and not a make-up, to serve their purposes. The very genius peculiar to them, as an Oriental people, is a sufficient guarantee of this fact; and the more so from their having been so thoroughly separated, by the prejudice of caste, from others around them; which would so naturally lead them to use, and retain, their peculiar speech. But the use of the Gipsy language is not the only, not even the principal, means of maintaining a knowledge of being Gipsies; perhaps it is altogether unnecessary; for the mere consciousness of the fact of being Gipsies, transmitted from generation to generation, and made the basis of marriages, and the intimate associations of life, is, in itself, perfectly sufficient. The subject of two distinct races, existing upon the same soil, is not very familiar to the mind of a British subject. To acquire a knowledge of such a phenomenon, he should visit certain parts of Europe, or Asia, or Africa, or the New World. Since all (I may say all) Gipsies hide the knowledge of their being Gipsies from the other inhabitants, as they leave the tent, it cannot be said that any of them really deny themselves, even should they hide themselves from those of their own race. The ultimate test of a person being a Gipsy would be for another to catch the internal response of his mind to the question put to him as to the fact; or observe the workings of his heart in his contemplations of himself. It can hardly be said that any Gipsy denies, at heart, the fact of his being a Gipsy, (which, indeed, is a contradiction in terms,) let him disguise it from others as much as he may. If I could find such a man, he would be the only one of his race whom I would feel inclined to despise as such.

From all that has been said, the reader can have no difficulty in believing, with me, as a question beyond doubt, that the immortal John Bunyan was a Gipsy of mixed blood. He was a tinker. And who were the tinkers? Were there any itinerant tinkers in England, before the Gipsies settled there? It is doubtful. In all likelihood, articles requiring to be tinkered were carried to the nearest smithy. The Gipsies are all tinkers, either literally, figuratively, or representatively. Ask any English Gipsy, of a certain class, what he can do, and, after enumerating several occupations, he will add: “I can tinker, of course,” although he may know little or nothing about it. Tinkering, or travelling-smith work, is the Gipsy’s representative business, which he brought with him into Europe. Even the intelligent and respectable Scottish Gipsies speak of themselves as belonging to the “tinker tribe.” The Gipsies in England, as in Scotland, divided the country among themselves, under representative chiefs, and did not allow any other Gipsies to enter upon their walks or beats. Considering that the Gipsies in England were estimated at above ten thousand during the early part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, we can readily believe that they were much more numerous during the time of Bunyan. Was there, therefore, a pot or a kettle, in the rural parts of England, to be mended, for which there was not a Gipsy ready to attend to it? If a Gipsy would not tolerate any of his own race entering upon his district, was he likely to allow any native? If there were native tinkers in England before the Gipsies settled there, how soon would the latter, with their organization, drive every one from the trade by sheer force! What thing more like a Gipsy? Among the Scotch, we find, at a comparatively recent time, that the Gipsies actually murdered a native, for infringing upon what they considered one of their prerogatives—that of gathering rags through the country.

Lord Macaulay says, with reference to Bunyan: “The tinkers then formed a hereditary caste, which was held in no high estimation. They were generally vagrants and pilferers, and were often confounded with the Gipsies, whom, in truth, they nearly resembled.” I would like to know on what authority his lordship makes such an assertion; what he knows about the origin of this “hereditary tinker caste,” and if it still exists; and whether he holds to the purity-of-Gipsy-blood idea, advanced by the Edinburgh Review and Blackwood’s Magazine, but especially the former. How would he account for the existence of a hereditary caste of any kind, in England, and that just one—the “tinker caste”? There was no calling at that time hereditary in England, that I know of; and yet Bunyan was born a tinker. In Scotland, the collier and salter castes were hereditary, for they were in a state of slavery to the owners of these works.[314] But who ever heard of any native occupation, so free as tinkering, being hereditary in England, in the seventeenth century? Was not this “tinker caste,” at that time, exactly the same that it is now? If it was then hereditary, is it not so still? If not, by what means has it ceased to be hereditary? The tinkers existed in England, at that time, exactly as they do now. And who are they now but mixed Gipsies? It is questionable, very questionable indeed, if we will find, in all England, a tinker who is not a Gipsy. The class will deny it; the purer and more original kind of Gipsies will also deny it; still, they are Gipsies. They are all chabos, calos, or chals; but they will play upon the word Gipsy in its ideal, purity-of-blood sense, and deny that they are Gipsies. We will find in Lavengro two such Gipsies—the Flaming Tinman, and Jack Slingsby; the first, a half-blood, (which did not necessarily imply that either parent was white;) and the other, apparently, a very much mixed Gipsy. The tinman termed Slingsby a “mumping villain.” Now, “mumper,” among the English Gipsies, is an expression for a Gipsy whose blood is very much mixed. When Mr. Borrow used the word Petulengro,[315] Slingsby started, and exclaimed: “Young man, you know a thing or two.” I have used the same word with English Gipsies, causing the same surprise; on one occasion, I was told: “You must be a Scotch Gipsy yourself.” “Well,” I replied, “I may be as good a Gipsy as any of you, for anything you may know.” “That may be so,” was the answer I got. Then Slingsby was very careful to mention to Lavengro that his wife was a white, or Christian, woman; a thing not necessarily true because he asserted it, but it implied that he was different. These are but instances of, I might say, all the English tinkers. Almost every old countrywoman about the Scottish Border knows that the Scottish tinkers are Gipsies.[316]

The prejudice against the name of Gipsy was apparently as great in Bunyan’s time as in our own; and there was, evidently, as great a timidity, on the part of mixed, fair-haired Gipsies, to own the blood then, as now; and great danger, for then it was hangable to be a Gipsy, by the law of Queen Elizabeth, and “felony without benefit of clergy,” for “any person, being fourteen years, whether natural born subject or stranger, who had been seen in the fellowship of such persons, or disguised like them, and remained with them one month, at once, or at several times.” When the name of Gipsy, and every association connected with it, were so severely proscribed by law, what other name would the tribe go under but that of tinkers—their own proper occupation? Those only would be called Gipsies whose appearance indicated the pure, or nearly pure, Gipsy. Although there was no necessity, under any circumstances, for Bunyan to say that he was a Gipsy, and still less in the face of the law proscribing, so absolutely, the race, and every one countenancing it, he evidently wished the fact to be understood, or, I should rather say, took it for granted, that part of the public knew of it, when he said: “For my descent, it was, as is well known to many, of a low and inconsiderable generation; my father’s house being of that rank that is meanest and most despised of all the families of the land.” Of whom does Bunyan speak here, if not of the Gipsies? He says, of all the families of the land. And he adds: “After I had been thus for some considerable time, another thought came into my mind, and that was, whether we, (his family and relatives,) were of the Israelites or no? For, finding in the Scriptures, that they were once the peculiar people of God, thought I, if I were one of this race, (how significant is the expression!) my soul must needs be happy. Now, again, I found within me a great longing to be resolved about this question, but could not tell how I should; at last, I asked my father of it, who told me, No, we, (his father included,) were not.”[317] I have heard the same question put by Gipsy lads to their parent, (a very much mixed Gipsy,) and it was answered thus: “We must have been among the Jews, for some of our ceremonies are like theirs.” The best commentary that can be passed on the above extracts from Bunyan’s autobiography, will be found in our author’s account of his visit to the old Gipsy chief, whose acquaintance he made at St. Boswell’s fair, and to which the reader is referred, (pages 309-318.) When did we ever hear of an ordinary Englishman taking so much trouble to ascertain whether he was a Jew, or not? No Englishman, it may be safely asserted, ever does that, or has ever done it; and no one in England could have done it, during Bunyan’s time, but a Gipsy. Bunyan seems to have been more or less acquainted with the history of the Jews, and how they were scattered over the world, though not publicly known to be in England, from which country they had been for centuries banished. About the time in question, the re-admission of the Jews was much canvassed in ecclesiastical as well as political circles, and ultimately carried, by the exertions of Manasseh Ben Israel, of Amsterdam. Under these circumstances, it was very natural for Bunyan to ask himself whether he belonged to the Jewish race, since he had evidently never seen a Jew; and that the more especially, as the Scottish Gipsies have even believed themselves to be Ethiopians. Such a question is entertained, by the Gipsies, even at the present day; for they naturally think of the Jews, and wonder whether, after all, their race may not, at some time, have been connected with them. How trifling it is for any one to assert, that Bunyan—a common native of England—while in a state of spiritual excitement, imagined that he was a Jew, and that he should, at a mature age, have put anything so absurd in his autobiography, and in so grave a manner as he did!

Southey, in his life of Bunyan, writes: “Wherefore this (tinkering) should have been so mean and despised a calling, is not, however, apparent, when it was not followed as a vagabond employment, but, as in this case, exercised by one who had a settled habitation, and who, mean as his condition was, was nevertheless able to put his son to school, in an age when very few of the poor were taught to read and write.” The fact is, that Bunyan’s father had, apparently, a town beat, which would give him a settled residence, prevent him using a tent, and lead him to conform with the ways of the ordinary inhabitants; but, doubtless, he had his pass from the chief of the Gipsies for the district. The same may be said of John Bunyan himself.

How little does a late writer in the Dublin University Magazine know of the feelings of a mixed Gipsy, like Bunyan, when he says: “Did he belong to the Gipsies, we have little doubt that he would have dwelt on it, with a sort of spiritual exultation; and that of his having been called out of Egypt would have been to him one of the proofs of Divine favour. We cannot imagine him suppressing the fact, or disguising it.” Where is the point in the reviewer’s remarks? His remarks have no point. How could the fact of a man being a Gipsy be made the grounds of any kind of spiritual exultation? And how could the fact of the tribe originating in Egypt be a proof of Divine favour towards the individual? What occasion had Bunyan to mention he was a Gipsy? What purpose would it have served? How would it have advanced his mission as a minister? Considering the prejudice that has always existed against that unfortunate word Gipsy, it would have created a sensation among all parties, if Bunyan had said that he was a Gipsy. “What!” the people would have asked, “a Gipsy turned priest? We’ll have the devil turning priest next!” Considering the many enemies which the tinker-bishop had to contend with, some of whom even sought his life, he would have given them a pretty occasion of revenging themselves upon him, had he said he was a Gipsy. They would have put the law in force, and stretched his neck for him.[318] The same writer goes on to say: “In one passage at least—and we think there are more in Bunyan’s works—the Gipsies are spoken of in such a way as would be most unlikely if Bunyan thought he belonged to that class of vagabonds.” I am not aware as to what the reviewer alludes; but, should Bunyan even have denounced the conduct of the Gipsies, in the strongest terms imaginable, would that have been otherwise than what he did with sinners generally? Should a clergyman denounce the ways and morals of every man of his parish, does that make him think less of being a native of the parish himself? Should a man even denounce his children as vagabonds, does that prevent him being their father? This writer illustrates what I have said of people generally—that they are almost incapable of forming an opinion on the Gipsy question, unaided by facts, and the bearings of facts, laid before them; so thoroughly is the philosophy of race, as it progresses and develops, unknown to the public mind, and so absolute is the prejudice of caste against the Gipsy race.[319]

I need hardly say anything further to show that Bunyan was a Gipsy. The only circumstance that is wanting to complete the evidence, would be for him to have added to his account of his descent: “In other words, I am a Gipsy.” But I have given reasons for such verbal admission being, in a measure, impossible. I do not ask for an argument in favour of Bunyan not being a Gipsy, but a common Englishman; for an argument of that kind, beyond such remarks as I have commented on, is impracticable; but what I ask for is, an exposition of the animus of the man who does not wish that he should have been a Gipsy; assuming that a man can be met with, who will so far forget what is due to the dignity of human nature, as to commit himself in any such way. That Bunyan was a Gipsy is beyond a doubt. That he is a Gipsy, now, in Abraham’s bosom, the Christian may readily believe. To the genius of a Gipsy and the grace of God combined, the world is indebted for the noblest production that ever proceeded from an uninspired man. Impugn it whoso list.

Of the Pilgrim’s Progress, Lord Macaulay, in his happy manner, writes: “For magnificence, for pathos, for vehement exhortation, for subtle disquisition, for every purpose of the poet, the orator, and the divine, this homely dialect—the dialect of plain working men—was perfectly sufficient. There is no book in our literature on which we would so readily stake the fame of the old, unpolluted, English language,” as the Pilgrim’s Progress; “no book which shows, so well, how rich that language is in its own proper wealth, and how little it has been improved by all that it has borrowed.” “Though there were many clever men in England, during the latter half of the seventeenth century, there were only two great creative minds. One of these minds produced the Paradise Lost; the other, the Pilgrim’s Progress”—the work of an English tinkering Gipsy.

It is very singular that religious writers should strive to make out that Bunyan was not a Gipsy. If these writers really have the glory of God at heart, they should rather attempt to prove that he was a member of this race, which has been so much despised. For, thereby, the grace of God would surely be the more magnified. Have they never heard that Jesus Christ came into the world to preach the Gospel to the poor, to break the chains of the oppressed, and raise up the bowed-down? Have they never heard that the poor publican who, standing afar off, would not so much as lift up his eyes to heaven, but smote his breast, and exclaimed: “God be merciful to me, a sinner,” went down justified rather than him who gave thanks for his not being like other men, or even as that publican? Have they never heard that God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; and things which are despised, yea, and things which are not, to bring to naught things that are: that no flesh should glory in his presence? I shall wait, with considerable curiosity, to see whether the next editor, or biographer, of this illustrious Gipsy will take any notice of the present work; or whether he will dispose of it somewhat in this strain: “One of Bunyan’s modern reviewers, by a strange mistake, construes his self-disparaging admissions to mean that he was the offspring of Gipsies!”

Sir Walter Scott admits that Bunyan was most probably a “Gipsy reclaimed;” and Mr. Offor, that “his father must have been a Gipsy.”[320] But, with these exceptions, I know not if any writer upon Bunyan has more than hinted at the possibility of even a connexion between him and the Gipsies. It is very easy to account for all this, by the ignorance of the world in regard to the Gipsy tribe, but, above all, by the extreme prejudice of caste which is entertained against it. Does caste exist nowhere but in India? Does an Englishman feel curious to know what caste can mean? In few parts of the world does caste reign so supreme, as it does in Great Britain, towards the Gipsy nation. What is it but the prejudice of caste that has prevented the world from acknowledging Bunyan to have been a Gipsy? The evidence of the fact of his having been a Gipsy is positive enough. Will any one say that he does not believe that Bunyan meant to convey to the world a knowledge of the fact of his being a Gipsy? Or that he does not believe that the tinkers are Gipsies? Has any writer on Bunyan ever taken the trouble to ascertain who the tinkers really are; and that, in consequence of his investigations, he has come to the conclusion that they are not Gipsies? If no writer on the subject of the illustrious dreamer has ever taken that trouble, to what must we attribute the fact but the prejudice of caste? It is caste, and nothing but caste. What is it but the prejudice of caste that has led Lord Macaulay to invent his story about the tinkers? For what he says of the tinkers is a pure invention, or, at best, a delusion, on his part. What is it but the prejudice of caste that has prevented others from saying, plainly, that Bunyan was a Gipsy? It would be more manly if they were to leave Bunyan alone, than receive his works, and damn the man, that is, his blood. It places them on the level of boors, when they allow themselves to be swayed by the prejudices that govern boors. When they speak of, or write about, Bunyan, let them exercise common honesty, and receive both the man and the man’s works: let them not be guilty of petit larceny, or rather, great robbery, in the matter.

Southey, in his life of Bunyan, writes: “John Bunyan has faithfully recorded his own spiritual history. Had he dreamed of being ‘forever known,’ and taking his place among those who may be called the immortals of the earth, he would probably have introduced more details of his temporal circumstances, and the events of his life. But, glorious dreamer as he was, this never entered into his imagination.[321] Less concerning him than might have been expected has been preserved by those of his own sect; and it is not likely that anything more should be recovered from oblivion.” Remarks like these come with a singular grace from a man with so many prejudices as Southey. John Bunyan has told us as much of his history as he dared to do. It was a subject upon which, in some respects, he doubtless maintained a great reserve; for it cannot be supposed that a man occupying so prominent and popular a position, as a preacher and writer, and of so singular an origin, should have had no investigations made into his history, and that of his family; if not by his friends, at least, by his enemies, who seemed to have been capable of doing anything to injure and discredit him. But, very probably, his being a tinker was, with friends and enemies, a circumstance so altogether discreditable, as to render any investigation of the kind perfectly superfluous. In mentioning that much of himself which he did, Bunyan doubtless imagined that the world understood, or would have understood, what he meant, and would, sooner or later, acknowledge the race to which he belonged. And yet it has remained in this unacknowledged state for two centuries since his time. How unreasonable it is to imagine that Bunyan should have said, in as many words, that he was a Gipsy, when the world generally is so apt to become fired with indignation, should we now say that he was one of the race. How applicable are the words of his wife, to Sir Matthew Hale, to the people of the present day: “Because he is a tinker, and a poor man, he is despised, and cannot have justice.”

Had Southey exercised that common sense which is the inheritance of most of Englishmen, and divested himself of this prejudice of caste, which is likewise their inheritance, he never could have had any difficulty in forming a proper idea of Bunyan, and everything concerning him. And the same may be said of any person at the present day. John Bunyan was simply a Gipsy of mixed blood, who must have spoken the Gipsy language in great purity; for, considering the extent to which it is spoken in England, to-day, we can well believe that it was very pure two centuries ago, and that Bunyan might have written works even in that language. But such is the childish prejudice against the name of Gipsy, such the silly incredulity towards the subject, that, in Great Britain, and, I am sorry to say, with some people in America, one has nearly as much difficulty in persuading others to believe in it, as St. Paul had in inducing the Greeks to believe in the resurrection of the dead. Why seemeth it unto thee incredible that Bunyan was a Gipsy? or that Bunyan’s race should now be found in every town, in every village, and, perhaps, in every hamlet, in Scotland, and in every sphere of life?[322]

To a candid and unprejudiced person, it should afford a relief, in thinking of the immortal dreamer, that he should have been a member of this singular race, emerging from a state of comparative barbarism, and struggling upwards, amid so many difficulties, rather than he should have been of the very lowest of our own race; for in that case, there is an originality and dignity connected with him personally, that could not well attach to him, in the event of his having belonged to the dregs of the common natives. Beyond being a Gipsy, it is impossible to say what his pedigree really was. His grandfather might have been an ordinary native, even of fair birth, who, in a thoughtless moment, might have “gone off with the Gipsies;” or his ancestor, on the native side of the house, might have been one of the “many English loiterers” who joined the Gipsies on their arrival in England, when they were “esteemed and held in great admiration;” or he might have been a kidnapped infant; or such a “foreign tinker” as is alluded to in the Spanish Gipsy edicts, and in the Act of Queen Elizabeth, in which mention is made of “strangers,” as distinguished from natural born subjects, being with the Gipsies. The last is most probable, as the name, Bunyan, would seem to be of foreign origin. It is, therefore, very likely, that there was not a drop of common English blood in Bunyan’s veins. John Bunyan belongs to the world at large, and England is only entitled to the credit of the formation of his character. Be all that as it may, Bunyan’s father seems to have been a superior, and therefore important, man in the tribe, from the feet, as Southey says, of his having “put his son to school in an age when very few of the poor were taught to read and write.”

The world never can do justice to Bunyan, unless it takes him up as a Gipsy; nor can the Christian, unless he considers him as being a Gipsy, in Abraham’s bosom. His biographers have not, even in one instance, done justice to him; for, while it is altogether out of the question to call him the “wicked tinker,” the “depraved Bunyan,” it is unreasonable to style him a “blackguard,” as Southey has done. He might have been a blackguard in that sense in which a youth, in a village, is termed a “young blackguard,” for being the ringleader among the boys; or on account of his wearing a ragged coat, and carrying a hairy wallet on his shoulder, which, in a conventional sense, constitute any man, in Great Britain, a blackguard. Bunyan’s sins were confined to swearing, cursing, blaspheming, and lying; and were rather intensely manifested by the impetuosity of his character, or vividly described by the sincerity of his piety, and the liveliness of his genius, than deeply rooted in his nature; for he shook off the habit of swearing, (and, doubtless, that of lying,) on being severely reproved for it, by a loose and ungodly woman. Three of the kindred vices mentioned, (and, we might add the fourth, lying,) more frequently proceed from the influence of bad example and habit, than from anything inherently vicious, in a youth with so many of the good points which characterized Bunyan. His youth was even marked by a tender conscience, and a strong moral feeling; for thus he speaks of himself in “Grace Abounding:” “But this I well remember, that though I could myself sin, with the greatest delight and ease, and also take pleasure in the vileness of my companions, yet, even then, if I had, at any time, seen wicked things in those who professed goodness, it would make my spirit tremble. As, once above all the rest, when I was in the height of vanity, yet hearing one swear that was reckoned for a religious man, it had so great a stroke upon my spirit, that it made my heart ache.” He was the subject of these experiences before he was ten years of age. It is unnecessary to speak of his dancing, ringing bells, and playing at tip-cat and hockey. Now, let us see what was Bunyan’s moral character. He was not a drunkard; and he says: “I know not whether there be such a thing as a woman breathing, under the copes of heaven, but by their apparel, their children, or by common fame, except my wife.” And he continues: “Had not a miracle of precious grace prevented, I had laid myself open even to the stroke of those laws which bring some to disgrace and open shame, before the face of the world.” The meaning of this is, evidently, that he never stole anything; but that it was “by a miracle of precious grace” he was prevented from doing it. In what sense, then, was Bunyan a blackguard? There was never such occasion for him to say of himself, what John Newton said of himself, as a criminal passed him, on the way to the gallows: “There goes John Bunyan, but for the grace of God.” But such was the depth of Bunyan’s piety, that hardly any one thought and spoke more disparagingly of himself than he did; although he would defend himself, with indignation, against unjust charges brought against him; for, however peaceable and humble he might be, he would turn most manfully upon his enemies, when they baited or badgered him. “It began, therefore, to be rumoured, up and down among the people, that I was a witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman, and the like. . . . . I also call those fools and knaves that have thus made it anything of their business to affirm any of these things aforesaid of me, namely, that I have been naught with other women, or the like. . . . My foes have missed their mark in this their shooting at me. I am not the man. I wish that they themselves be guiltless. If all the fornicators and adulterers in England were hanged up by the neck till they be dead, John Bunyan, the object of their envy, would be still alive and well.” The style of his language even indicated the Gipsy; for English Gipsies, as Mr. Borrow justly remarks, speak the English language much better than the natives of the lower classes; for this apparent reason, that they have not the dialect of any particular part of England, which would be, were they always to have resided in a particular place. It must have been more so before the middle of the seventeenth century, upwards of a hundred years after the arrival of the Gipsies in England; for, in acquiring the English language, they would keep clear of many of the rude dialects that so commonly prevail in that country. But Bunyan’s language was, doubtless, drawn principally from the Scriptures.

The illustrious pilgrim had many indignities cast upon him, by the lower and unthinking classes of the population, and by Quakers and strict Baptists. ‘Twas a man like John Owen who knew how to appreciate and respect him; for, said he to Charles II.: “I would readily part with all my learning, could I but preach like the tinker.” And what was it that supported Bunyan, amid all the abuse and obloquy to which he was exposed, as he obeyed the call of God, and preached the gospel, in season and out of season, to every creature around him? When they sneered at his origin, and the occupation from which he had risen, he said: “Such insults I freely bind unto me, as an ornament, among the rest of my reproaches, till the Lord shall wipe them off at his coming.” And again: “The poor Christian hath something to answer them that reproach him for his ignoble pedigree, and shortness of the glory of the wisdom of this world. I fear God. This is the highest and most noble; he hath the honour, the life, and glory that is lasting.”[323]

In Great Britain, the off-scourings of the earth can say who they are, and no prejudices are entertained against them. Half-caste Hindoos, Malays, Hottentots, and Negroes, are “sent home,” to be educated, and made pets of, and have the choice of white women given to them for wives; but the children of a Scottish Christian Gipsy gentleman, or of a Scottish Christian Gipsy gentlewoman, dare not say who they are, were it almost to save their lives. Scottish people will wonder at what caste in India can mean, deplore its existence, and pray to God to remove it, that “the gospel may have free course and be glorified;” yet scowl—silently and sullenly scowl—at the bare mention of John Bunyan having been a Gipsy! Scottish religious journals will not tolerate the idea to appear in their columns! To such people I would say, Offer up no more prayers to Almighty God, to remove caste from India, until they themselves have removed from the land this prejudice of caste, that hangs like an incubus upon so many of their fellow-subjects at home. It is quite time enough to carry such petitions to the Deity, when every Scottish Gipsy can make a return of himself in the census, or proclaim himself a Gipsy at the cross, or from the house-top, if need be; or, at least, after steps have been taken by the public to that end. But some of my countrymen may say: “What are we to do, under the circumstances?” And I reply: “Endeavour to be yourselves, and judge of this subject as it ought to be judged. You can, at least, try to guard against your children acquiring your own prejudices.” To the rising town generation, I would look with more hope to see a better feeling entertained for the name of Gipsy. But I look with more confidence to the English than Scottish people; for this question of “folk” is very apt to rankle and fester in the Scottish mind. I wish, then, that the British, and more especially the Scottish, public should consider itself as cited before the bar of the world, and not only the bar of the world, but the bar of posterity, to plead on the Gipsy question, that it may be seen if this is the only instance in which justice is not to be done to a part of the British population. With the evidence furnished in the present work, I submit the name of Bunyan, as a case in point, to test the principle at issue. Let British people beware how they approach this subject, for there are great principles involved in it. The social emancipation of the Gipsies is a question which British people have to consider for the future.

The day is gone by when it cannot be said who John Bunyan was. In Cowper’s time, his name dare not be mentioned, “lest it should move a sneer.” Let us hope that we are living in happier times. Tinkering was Bunyan’s occupation; his race the Gipsy—a fact that cannot be questioned. His having been a Gipsy adds, by contrast, a lustre to his name, and reflects an immortality upon his character; and he stands out, from among all the men of the latter half of the seventeenth century, in all his solitary grandeur, a monument of the grace of God, and a prodigy of genius. Let us, then, enroll John Bunyan as the first (that is known to the world) of eminent Gipsies, the prince of allegorists, and one of the most remarkable of men and Christians. What others of this race there may be who have distinguished themselves among mankind, are known to God and, it may be, some of the Gipsies. The saintly Doctor to whom I have alluded was one of this singular people; and one beyond question, for his admission of the fact cannot be denied by any one. Any life of John Bunyan, or any edition of his works, that does not contain a record of the fact of his having been a Gipsy, lacks the most important feature connected with the man that makes everything relating to him personally interesting to mankind. It should even contain a short dissertation on the Gipsies, and have, as a frontispiece, a Gipsy’s camp, with all its appurtenances. The reader may believe that such a thing may be seen, and that, perhaps, not before long.

It strikes me as something very singular, that Mr. Borrow, “whose acquaintance with the Gipsy race, in general, dates from a very early period of his life;” who “has lived more with Gipsies than Scotchmen;” and than whom “no one ever enjoyed better opportunities for a close scrutiny of their ways and habits,” should have told us so little about the Gipsies. In all his writings on the Gipsies, he alludes to two mixed Gipsies only—the Spanish half-pay captain, and the English flaming tinman—in a way as if these were the merest of accidents, and meant nothing. He has told us nothing of the Gipsies but what was known before, with the exception, as far as my memory serves me, of the custom of the Spanish Gipsy, dressing her daughter in such a way as to protect her virginity; the existence of the tribe, in a civilized state, in Moscow; and the habit of the members of the race possessing two names; all of which are, doubtless, interesting pieces of information. The Spanish Gipsy marriage ceremony was described, long before him, by Dr. Bright; and Twiss, as far back as 1723, bears testimony to the virtue of Gipsy females, inasmuch as they were not to be procured in any way. Twiss also bears very positive testimony on a point to which Mr. Borrow has not alluded, viz.: the honesty of Spanish Gipsy innkeepers, in one respect, at least, that, although he frequently left his linen, spoons, &c., at their mercy, he never lost an article belonging to him. He alludes, in his travels, to the subject of the Gipsies incidentally; and his testimony is, therefore, worthy of every credit, on the points on which he speaks. In Mr. Borrow’s writings upon the Gipsies, we find only sketches of certain individuals of the race, whom he seems to have fallen in with, and not a proper account of the nation. These writings have done more injury to the tribe than, perhaps, anything that ever appeared on the subject. I have met with Gipsies—respectable young men—who complained bitterly of Mr. Borrow’s account of their race; and they did that with good reason; for his attempt at generalization on the subject of the people, is as great a curiosity as ever I set my eyes upon. How unsatisfactory are Mr. Borrow’s opinions on the Gipsy question, when he speaks of the “decadence” of the race, when it is only passing from its first stage of existence—the tent. This he does in his Appendix to the Romany Rye; and it is nearly all that can be drawn from his writings on the Gipsies, in regard to their future history.

I do not expect to meet among American people, generally, with the prejudice against the name of Gipsy that prevails in Europe; for, in Europe, the prejudice is traditional—a question of the nursery—while, in America, it is derived, for the most part, from novels. American people will, of course, form their own opinion upon the tented or any other kind of Gipsies, as their behaviour warrants; but what prejudice can they have for the Gipsy race as such? As a race, it is, physically, as fine a one as ever came out of Asia; although, at the present day, it is so much mixed with the white blood, as hardly to be observable in many, and absolutely not so in others, who follow the ordinary vocations of other men. What prejudice can Americans have against Gipsy blood as such? What prejudice can they have to the Maryland farmers who have been settled, for at least two generations, near Annapolis, merely because they are Gipsies and speak Gipsy? If there is any people in the world who might be expected to view the subject of the Gipsies dispassionately, it ought to be the people of America; for surely they have prejudices enough in regard to race; prejudices, the object of which is independent of character or condition—something that stares them in the face, and cannot be got rid of. If they have the practical sagacity to perceive the bearings of the Gipsy question, they should at once take it up, and treat it in the manner which the age demands. They have certainly an opportunity of stealing a march upon English people in this matter.

Part of what I have said in reference to Bunyan, I was desirous of having inserted in a respectable American religious journal, but I did not succeed in it. “It would take up too much room in the paper, and give rise to more discussion than they could afford to print.”—“Perhaps you would not wish it to be said that John Bunyan was a Gipsy?”—“Oh, not at all,” replied the editor, colouring up a little. I found that several of these papers devoted a pretty fair portion of their space to such articles as funny monkey stories, and descriptions of rat-trap and cow-tail-holder patents; but for anything of so very little importance as that which referred to John Bunyan, they could afford no room whatever. Who cared to know who John Bunyan was? What purpose could it serve? Who would be benefited by it? But funny monkey stories are pleasant reading; every housewife should know how to keep down her rats; and every farmer should be taught how to keep his cows’ tails from whisking their milk in his face, while it is being drawn into the pail. Not succeeding with the religious papers, I found expression to my sentiments in one of the “ungodly weeklies,” which devote their columns to rats, monkeys, and cows, and a little to mankind; and there I found a feeling of sympathy for Bunyan. Let it not be said, in after times, that the descendants of the Puritans allowed themselves to be frightened by a scare-crow, or put to flight by the shake of a rag.

I am afraid that the native-born quarrelsomeness of disposition about “folk,” and things in general, which characterizes Scottish people, will prove a bar to the Gipsies owning themselves up in Scotland. Go into any Scottish village you like, and ascertain the feelings which the inhabitants entertain for each other, and you will find that such a one is a “poor grocer body;” that another belongs to a “shoemaker pack,” another to a “tailor pack,” another to a “cadger pack,” another to a “collier pack,” and another to a “low Tinkler pack;” another to a “bad nest,” and another to a “very bad nest.” And it is pretty much the same with the better classes. Now, how could the Gipsy tribe live amid such elements, if it did not keep everything connected with itself hidden from all the other “packs” surrounding it? And is it consonant with reason to say, that a Scotchman should be rated as standing at the bottom of all the various “packs” and “nests,” simply because he has Gipsy blood in his veins? Yet, I meet with Scotchmen in the New World, who express such a feeling towards the Gipsies. This quarrelling about “folk” reigns supreme in Scotland; and, what is worse, it is brought with the people to America. It is inherent in them to be personal and intolerant, among themselves, and to talk of, and sneer at, each other, and “cast up things.” In that respect, a community of Scotch people presents a peculiarity of mental feeling that is hardly to be found in one of any other people. When they come together, in social intercourse, there is frequently, if not generally, a hearty, if not a boisterous, flow of feeling, and, if the bottle contributes to the entertainment, a foam upon the surface; but the under-tow and ground-swell are frequently long in subsiding. Even in America, where they are reputed to have the clanishness of Jews, we will find within their respective circles, more heart-burnings, jealousies, envyings, and quarrellings, (but little or no Irish fighting, for they are rather given to “taking care of their characters,”) than is to be found among almost any other people. At the best, there may be said to be an armed truce always to be found existing among them. Still, all that is not known to people outside of these circles; for those within them are animated by a common national sentiment, which leads them to conceal such feelings from others, so as to “uphold the credit of their country,” wherever they go. It will be a difficult matter to get the Gipsies heartily acknowledged among such elements as equals; for it makes many a native Scot wild, to tell him that there are Scottish Gipsies as good, if not better, men than he is, or any kith or kin that belongs to him.

And yet, it is not the Scottish gentleman—the gentleman by birth, rearing, education, mind, or manners—who will be backward to assist in raising up, and dignifying, the name of Gipsy. No; it will be the low-minded and ignorant Scots; people who are always either fawning upon, or sneering at, those above them, or trampling, or attempting to trample, upon those below them. It is very apt to be that class which Lord Jeffrey describes as “having a double allowance of selfishness, with a top-dressing of pedantry and conceit,” and some of the “but and ben” gentry, who will sneer most at the word Gipsy. It is the flunkey, who lives and brings up his family upon the cast-off clothes and broken victuals of others, and out for whom such things would find their way to the rag-basket and the pigs; ‘tis he and his children who are too often the most difficult to please in the matter of descent, and the most likely to perpetuate the prejudice against the Gipsy tribe.

I have taken some trouble to ascertain the feelings of Scotchmen in America towards the Scottish Gipsies, such as they are represented in these pages; and I find that, among the really educated and liberally brought up classes, there are not to be discovered those prejudices against them, that are expressed by the lower classes, and especially those from country places. It is natural for the former kind of people to take the most liberal view of a question like the present; for they are, in a measure, satisfied with their position in life; while, with the lower classes, it is a feeling of restless discontentment that leads them to strive to get some one under them. No one would seem to like to be at the bottom of any society; and nowhere less so than in Scotland. A good education and up-bringing, and a knowledge of the world, likewise give a person a more liberal cast of mind, wherewith to form an opinion upon the subject of the Gipsies; and it is upon such that I would mainly rely in an attempt to raise up the name of Gipsy. Among the lower classes of my own countrymen, I find individuals all that could be desired in the matter of esteeming the Gipsies, according to the characters they bear, and the positions they occupy in life; but they are exceptions to the classes to which they belong. Here is a specimen of the kind of Scot the most difficult to break in to entertaining a proper feeling upon the subject of the Gipsies:

By birth, he is a child of that dependent class that gets a due share of the broken victuals and cast-off clothes of other people. His parents are decent and honest enough people, but very conceited and self-sufficient. Any person in the shape of a mechanic, a labourer, or a peasant, appears as nobody to them; although, in independence, and even circumstances, they are not to be compared to many a peasant. The “oldest bairn” takes his departure for the New World, “with the firm determination to show to the world that he is a man,” and “teach the Yankees something.” The first thing he does to “show the world that he is a man,” is to sneer, behave rudely, and attempt to pick quarrels with a better class of his own countrymen, when he comes in contact with them. Providence has not been over-indulgent with him in the matters of perceptors or reflectors; for, what little he knows, he has acquired in the manner that chickens pick up their food, when it is placed before them. But he has been gifted with a wonderful amount of self-conceit, which nothing can break down in him, however much it may be abashed for the moment. No one boasts more of his “family,” to those who do not know who his family are, although his family were brought up in a cage, and so small a cage, that some of them must have roosted on the spars overhead at night. No one is more independent, none more patriotic; no one boasts more of Wallace and Bruce, Burns and Scott, and all the worthies; to him there is no place in the world like “auld Scotland yet;” no one glories more in “the noble qualities of the Scot;” and none’s face burns with more importance in upholding, unchallenged, what he claims to be his character; yet the individual is a compound of conceit and selfishness, meanness and sordidness, and is estimated, wherever he goes, as a “perfect sweep.” Although no one is more given to toasting, “Brithers a’ the world o’er,” and, “A man’s a man for a’ that,” yet speak of the Gipsies to him, and he exclaims: “Thank God! there’s no a drap o’ Gipsy blood in me; no one drap o’t!” Not only is he unable to comprehend the subject, but he is unwilling to hear the word Gipsy mentioned. In short, he turns up his nose at the subject, and howls like a dog.[324]

It is the better kind of Scottish people, in whatever sphere of life they are to be found, on whom the greatest reliance is to be placed in raising up and dignifying the word Gipsy. This peculiar family of mankind has been fully three centuries and a half in the country, and it is high time that it should be acknowledged, in some form or other; high time, certainly, that we should know something about it. To an intelligent people it must appear utterly ridiculous that a prejudice is to be entertained against any Scotchman, without knowing who that Scotchman is, merely on account of his blood. Nor will any intelligent Scotchman, after the appearance of this work, be apt to say that he does not understand the subject of the Gipsies; or that they cease to be Gipsies by leaving the tent, or by a change of character or habits, or by their blood getting mixed. It will not do for any one to snap at the heels of this question: he must look at it steadily, and approach it with a clear head, a firm hand, and a Christian heart, and remove this stigma that has been allowed to attach to his country. No one in particular can be blamed for the position which the Gipsies occupy in the country: let by-gones be by-gones; let us look to the future for that expression of opinion which the subject calls for. This much I feel satisfied of, that if the Gipsy subject is properly handled, it would result in the name becoming as much an object of respect and attachment in many of the race, as it is now considered a reproach in others. There is much that is interesting in the name, and nothing necessarily low or vulgar associated with it; although there is much that is wild and barbarous connected with the descent, which is peculiar to the descent of all original tribes. It is unnecessary to say, that in a part of the race, we still find much that is wild, and barbarous, and roguish.