Chapter X (9)

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]

[313] The following extract from "Leaves from the Diary of a Jewish
Minister," published in the above-mentioned journal, on the 4th April,
1862, may not be uninteresting to the Christian reader:

"In our day, the conscience of Israel is seldom troubled; it is of so
elastic a character, that, like gutta percha, it stretches and is
compressed, according to the desire of its owner. We seldom hear of a
troubled conscience. . . . . Not that we would assert that our people
are without a conscience; we merely state that we seldom hear of its
troubles. It is more than probable, that when the latent feeling is
aroused on matters of religion, and for a moment they have an idea
that 'their soul is not well,' they take a hom[oe]opathic dose of
spiritual medicine, and then feel quite convalescent."

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]

[314] See pages 111 and 121.

[315] _Petul_, according to Mr. Borrow, means a horse-shoe; and
_Petulengro_, a lord of the horse-shoe. It is evidently a very high
catch-word among the English Gipsies.

[316] Various of the characters mentioned in Mr. Borrow's "Lavengro,"
and "Romany Rye," are, beyond doubt, Gipsies. Old Fulcher is termed,
in a derisive manner, by Ursula, "a _gorgio_ and basket-maker." She is
one of the Hernes; a family which _gorgio_ and basket-maker Gipsies
describe as "an ignorant, conceited set, who think nothing of other
Gipsies, owing to the quality and quantity of their own blood." This
is the manner in which the more original and pure and the other kind
of English Gipsies frequently talk of each other. The latter will deny
that they are Gipsies, at least hide it from the world; and, like the
same kind of Scottish Gipsies, speak of the others, exclusively, as
Gipsies. I am acquainted with a fair-haired English Gipsy, whose wife,
now dead, was a half-breed. "But I am not a Gipsy," said he to me,
very abruptly, before I had said anything that could have induced him
to think that I took him for one. He spoke Gipsy, like the others. I
soon caught him tripping; for, in speaking of the size of Gipsy
families, he slipped his foot, and said: "For example, there is our
family; there were (so many) of us." There is another Gipsy, a
neighbour, who passes his wife off to the public as an Irish woman,
while she is a fair-haired Irish Gipsy. Both, in short, played upon
the word Gipsy; for, as regards fullness of blood, they really were
not Gipsies.

The dialogue between the Romany Rye and the Horncastle jockey clearly
shows the Gipsy in the latter, when his attention is directed to the
figure of the Hungarian. The Romany Rye makes indirect reference to
the Gipsies, and the jockey abruptly asks: "Who be they? Come, don't
be ashamed. I have occasionally kept queerish company myself." "Romany
_chals_! Whew! I begin to smell a rat." The remainder of the dialogue,
and the _spree_ which follows, are perfectly Gipsy throughout, on the
part of the jockey; but, like so many of his race, he is evidently
ashamed to own himself up to be "one of them." He says, in a way as if
he were a stranger to the language: "And what a singular language they
have got!" "Do you know anything of it?" said the Romany Rye. "Only a
very few words; they were always chary in teaching me any." He said he
was brought up with the _gorgio_ and basket-maker Fulcher, who
followed the caravan. He is described as dressed in a coat of green,
(a favourite Gipsy colour,) and as having curly brown or black hair;
and he says of Mary Fulcher, whom he married: "She had a fair
complexion, and nice red hair, both of which I liked, being a bit of a
black myself." How much this is in keeping with the Gipsies, who so
frequently speak of each other, in a jocular way, as "brown and black
rascals!"

I likewise claim Isopel Berners, in Lavengro, to be a _thumping_ Gipsy
lass, who travelled the country with her donkey-cart, taking her own
part, and _wapping_ this one, and _wapping_ that one. It signifies not
what her appearance was. I have frequently taken tea, at her house,
with a young, blue-eyed, English Gipsy widow, perfectly English in her
appearance, who spoke Gipsy freely enough. It did not signify what
Isopel said of herself, or her relations. How did she come to speak
Gipsy? Do Gipsies _teach_ their language to _strangers_, and, more
especially, to strange women? Assuredly not. Suppose that Isopel was
not a Gipsy, but had married a Gipsy, then I could understand how she
might have known Gipsy, and yet not have been a Gipsy, except by
initiation. But it is utterly improbable that she, a strange woman,
should have been taught a word of it.

In England are to be found Gipsies of many occupations; horse-dealers,
livery stable-keepers, public-house keepers, sometimes grocers and
linen-drapers; indeed, almost every occupation from these downwards. I
can readily enough believe an English Gipsy, when he tells me, that he
knows of an English squire a Gipsy. To have an English squire a Gipsy,
might have come about even in this way: Imagine a rollicking or
eccentric English squire taking up with, and marrying, say, a pretty
mixed Gipsy bar or lady's maid, and the children would be brought up
Gipsies, for certainty.

There are two Gipsies, of the name of B----, farmers upon the estate
of Lord Lister, near Massingham, in the county of Norfolk. They are
described as good-sized, handsome men, and swarthy, with long black
hair, combed over their shoulders. They dress in the old Gipsy stylish
fashion, with a green cut-away, or Newmarket, coat, yellow leather
breeches, buttoned to the knee, and top boots, with a Gipsy hat,
ruffled breast, and turned-down collar. They occupy the position of
any natives in society; attend church, take an interest in parish
matters, dine with his lordship's other tenants, and compete for
prizes at the agricultural shows. They are proud of being Gipsies. I
have also been told that there are Gipsies in the county of Kent, who
have hop farms and dairies.

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!

[317] Bunyan adds: "But, notwithstanding the meanness and
inconsiderableness of my parents, it pleased God to put it into their
hearts to put me to school, to learn me both to read and write; the
which I also attained, according to the rate of other poor men's
children."

He does not say, "According to the rate of poor men's children," but
of "_other_ poor men's children:" a form of expression always used by
the Gipsies when speaking of themselves, as distinguished from others.
The language used by Bunyan, in speaking of his family, was in harmony
with that of the population at large; but he, doubtless, had the
feelings peculiar to all the tribe, with reference to their origin and
race.

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]

[318] Justice Keeling threatened Bunyan with this fate, even for
preaching; for said he: "If you do not submit to go to hear divine
service, and leave your preaching, you must be banished the realm: And
if, after such a day as shall be appointed you to be gone, you shall
be found in this realm, or be found to come over again, without
special license from the king, you must stretch by the neck for it. I
tell you plainly."

Sir Matthew Hale tells us that, on one occasion, at the Suffolk
assizes, no less than thirteen Gipsies were executed, under the old
Gipsy statutes, a few years before the Restoration.

[319] Perhaps the following passage is the one alluded to by this
writer: "I often, when these temptations had been with force upon me,
did compare myself to the case of such a child, whom some Gipsy hath
by force took up in her arms, and is carrying from friend and
country." _Grace abounding._ The use of a simile like this confirms
the fact that Bunyan belonged to the tribe, rather than that he did
not; unless we can imagine that Gipsies, when candid, do not what
every other race has done--admit the peculiarities of theirs, while in
a previous and barbarous state of existence. His admission confirms a
fact generally believed, but sometimes denied, as in the case of the
writer in Blackwood's Magazine, mentioned at page 375.

Bunyan, doubtless, "dwelt on it with a sort of spiritual exultation,"
that he should have been "called"--not "out of Egypt," but--"out of
the tribe," when, possibly, no others of it, to his knowledge, had
been so privileged; but it was, certainly, "most unlikely" he would
say that "he belonged to that class of vagabonds."

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.

[320] It is interesting to notice what these two writers say. If
Bunyan's father was a Gipsy, we may reasonably assume that his mother
was one likewise; and, consequently, that Bunyan was one himself, or
as Sir Walter Scott expresses it--a "Gipsy reclaimed." A Gipsy being a
question of race, and not a matter of habits, it should be received as
one of the simplest of elementary truths, that once a Gipsy, always a
Gipsy. We naturally ask, Why has not the fact of Bunyan having been a
Gipsy stood on record, for the last two centuries? and, echo answers,
Why?

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."

[321] Although Bunyan probably never anticipated being held in high
estimation by what are termed the "great ones" of the earth, yet what
Southey has said cannot be predicated of him, if we consider the
singularity of his origin and history, and the popularity which he
enjoyed, as author of the Pilgrim's Progress; a work affecting the
mind of man in every age of the world. Of this work Bunyan writes:

"My Pilgrim's book has travelled sea and land,
Yet could I never come to understand
That it was slighted, or turned out of door,
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor.
In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,
My Pilgrim is esteemed a friend, a brother.
In Holland, too, 'tis said, as I am told,
My Pilgrim is, with some, worth more than gold.
Highlanders and Wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrim should familiar with them be.
'Tis in New England under such advance,
Receives there so much loving countenance,
As to be trimmed, new clothed, and decked with gems,
That it may show its features, and its limbs.
Yet more, so public doth my Pilgrim walk,
That of him thousands daily sing and talk."

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]

[322] Bunsen writes: "Sound judgment is displayed rather in an aptness
for believing what is historical, than in a readiness at denying it.
. . . . . Shallow minds have a decided propensity to fall into the
latter error. Incapability of believing on evidence is the last form
of the intellectual imbecility of an enervated age."

A writer who contributes frequently to "Notes and Queries," after
stating that he has read the works of Grellmann and Hoyland on the
Gipsies, adds: "My conclusion is that the tribes have no more right to
nationality, race, blood, or language, than the London thieves
have--with their slang, some words of which may have their origin in
the Hebrew, from their dealings with the lowest order of Jews."

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."