Part 4

Many persons are of opinion in reference to the Gipsies, that, if all the parishes were alike severe in forcing them from their retreats, they would soon find their way into towns. But if this were the case, what advantage would they derive from it? In large towns, in their present ignorant and depraved state, would they not be still more wicked? They would change their condition only from bad to worse, unless they were treated better than they now are, and could be properly employed; but from the prejudice that exists among all classes of men against them, this is not likely to be the case: they would not be employed by any, while other persons could be got. At a hop plantation, so lately as 1830, Gipsies were not allowed to pick hops in some grounds, while persons as unsettled and undeserving, were engaged for that purpose. Had this been a parochial arrangement to benefit the poor of their own neighbourhood, who were out of employ, it were not blameable.

If they were driven to settle in towns, and could not, generally speaking, obtain employment, it might soon become necessary to remove all their children to their own parishes; a measure not only very unhappy in itself, but one to which the Gipsies would never submit. Sooner would they die than suffer their children to go to the parish workhouses.

The severe and unchristian-like treatment they meet with from many, only obliges them to travel further, and often drives them to commit greater depredations. When driven by the constables from their station, they retire to a more solitary place in another parish, and there remain till they are again detected, and again mercilessly driven away. But this severity does not accomplish the end it has in view; their numbers remain the same, and they retain the same dislike to the crowded haunts of man. For they only visit towns in small parties, offering trifling wares for sale, or telling fortunes; and this is done to gain a present support.

In this neighbourhood there was lately a sweeping of the commons and lanes of the Gipsy families. Their horses and donkeys were driven off, and the sum of 3 pounds 5_s_ levied on them as a fine to pay the constables for thus afflicting them. In one tent during this distressing affair, there was found an unburied child, that had been scalded to death, its parents not having money to defray the expenses of its interment. The constables declared that it would make any heart ache to see the anguish the poor people were in, when thus inhumanly driven from their resting places; but, said they, _We were obliged to do our duty_. To the credit of these men, thirteen in number, it should be mentioned, that, with only one exception, they returned the fines to the people; and one of them, who is a carpenter, offered a coffin for the unburied child, should the parish be unwilling to bury it.

In this instance of their affliction and grief, the propensity to accuse these poor creatures was strongly marked by a report charging them with having dug a grave on the common in which to bury it; a circumstance very far from their feelings and general habits. The fact was, some person had been digging holes in search of gravel, and these poor creatures pitched their tent just by one of them.

It was supposed by many in this neighbourhood, that the poor wretches thus driven away, were gone out of the country; but this was not the case. They had only retired to more lonely places in smaller parties, and were all seen again a few days after at a neighbouring fair. This circumstance is sufficient to prove that they are not to be reclaimed by prosecutions and fines. It is therefore high time the people of England should adopt more merciful measures towards them in endeavouring to bring them into a more civilized state. The money spent in sustaining prosecutions against them, if properly applied, would accomplish this great and benevolent work. And without flattering any of its members, the author thinks the Committee at Southampton have discovered plans, wholly different to those usually adopted, which may prove much more effectual in accomplishing their reformation; for by these plans being put in prudent operation, many have already ceased to make the lanes and commons their home; and their minds are becoming enlightened and their characters religious.

In concluding this chapter it may not be improper to remark, that, bad as may be the character of any of our fellow-creatures, it is very lamentable that they should suffer for crimes of which individually they are not guilty. Let us hope that, in reference to this people, unjust executions have ceased; that people will be careful in giving evidence which involves the rights, liberties, and lives of their fellow-creatures, though belonging to the unhappy tribes of Gipsies; and above all, let us hope, that such measures will be pursued by the good and benevolent of this highly favoured land, as will place them in situations where they will learn to fear God, and support themselves honestly in the sight of all men.

CHAP. VII. Of the formation of the Southampton Committee, and the success that has attended its endeavours.

Although the Gipsies, on account of their unsettled habits, their disposition to evil practices, and that ignorance of true religion, which is inseparably connected with a life remote from all the forms of external worship, and from the influence of religious society, may be said to be in a most lamentably wretched state; yet is their condition not desperate. They are rational beings, and have many feelings honourable to human nature. They are not as the heathens of other countries, addicted to any system of idolatry; and what is of infinite encouragement, they inhabit a land of Bibles and of Christian ministers; and, although at present, they derive so little benefit from these advantages, there are many of them willing to receive instruction. The following details, to which I gladly turn, will shew that, when _patient_ and _persevering_ means are used, Gipsies may be brought to know God; and no body of people were ever yet converted to Christianity without means. The following circumstances gave rise to the idea of forming a society for the improvement of this people.

In March, 1827, during the Lent Assizes, the author was in Winchester, and wishing to speak with the sheriff's chaplain, he went to the court for that purpose. He happened to enter just as the judge was passing sentence of death on two unhappy men. To one he held out the hope of mercy; but to the other, _a poor Gipsy_, who was convicted of horse-stealing, he said, _no hope could be given_. The young man, for he was but a youth, immediately fell on his knees, and with uplifted hands and eyes, apparently unconscious of any persons being present but the judge and himself, addressed him as follows: "_Oh_! _my Lord_, _save my life_!" The judge replied, "_No_; _you can have no mercy in this world_: _I and my brother judges have come to the determination to execute horse-stealers_, _especially Gipsies_, _because of the increase of the crime_." The suppliant, still on his knees, entreated--"_Do_, _my Lord Judge_, _save my life_! _do_, _for God's sake_, _for my wife's sake_, _for my baby's sake_!" "_No_," replied the judge, "_I cannot_: _you should have thought of your wife and children before_." He then ordered him to be taken away, and the poor fellow was _rudely dragged_ from his earthly judge. It is hoped, as a penitent sinner, he obtained the more needful mercy of God, through the abounding grace of Christ. After this scene, the author could not remain in court. As he returned, he found the mournful intelligence had been communicated to some Gipsies who had been waiting without, anxious to learn the fate of their companion. They seemed distracted.

On the outside of the court, seated on the ground, appeared an old woman, and a very young one, and with them two children, the eldest three years, and the other an infant but fourteen days old. The former sat by its mother's side, alike unconscious of her bitter agonies, and of her father's despair. The old woman held the infant tenderly in her arms, and endeavoured to comfort its weeping mother, soon to be a widow under circumstances the most melancholy. _My dear_, _don't cry_, said she, _remember you have this dear little baby_. Impelled by the sympathies of pity and a sense of duty, the author spoke to them on the evil of sin, and expressed his hope that the melancholy event would prove a warning to them, and to all their people. The poor man was executed about a fortnight after his condemnation.

This sad scene, together with Hoyland's Survey of the Gipsies, which the author read about this time, combined to make a deep impression on his mind, and awaken an earnest desire which has never since decreased, to assist and improve this greatly neglected people. The more he contemplated their condition and necessities, the difficulties in the way of their reformation continued to lessen, and his hope of success, in case any thing could be done for them, became more and more confirmed. He could not forget the poor young widow whom he had seen in such deep distress at Winchester, and was led to resolve, if he should meet her again, to offer to provide for her children.

Some weeks elapsed before he could hear any thing of her, till one day he saw the old woman sitting on the ground at the entrance of Southampton, with the widow's infant on her knee. "Where is your daughter?" he inquired. "Sir," she replied, "She is my niece; she is gone into the town." "Will you desire her to call at my house?" "I will, sir," said the poor old woman, to whom the author gave his address.

In about an hour after this conversation, the widow and her aunt appeared. After inviting them to sit down, he addressed the young woman thus:--"My good woman, you are now a poor widow, and I wished to see you, to tell you that I would be your friend. I will take your children, if you will let me have them, and be a father to them, and educate them; and, when old enough to work, will have them taught some honest trade." "Thank you, sir," said she; "but I don't like to part with my children. The chaplain at the prison offered to take my oldest, and to send her to London to be taken care of; but I could not often see her there." I replied, "I commend you for not parting with her, unless you could occasionally see her; for I suppose you love your children dearly." "Oh! yes, sir," said the widow. The old aunt also added, "Our people set great store by their children." "Well," I replied, "I do not wish you to determine on this business hastily; it is a weighty one. You had better take a fortnight for consideration, and then give me a second call."

How improbable did it then appear that this interview would ultimately lead to so much good to many of her people! When the fortnight expired, the widow and her aunt again appeared, when the following conversation took place. "I am glad you are come again," said their friend. "Yes," replied the widow, "and I will now let you have my Betsy;" and the aunt immediately added, pointing to one of her grand-children, "I will let you have my little _deary_, if you will take care of her. Her father," continued she, "was condemned to die, but is transported for life, and her mother now lives with another man." The proposal was readily accepted; and three days after, these two children were brought washed very clean, and dressed in their best clothes. It was promised the women, that they should see their children whenever they chose, and all parties were pleased. The eldest of these children was six years of age; the widow's little daughter, only three. The first day they amused themselves with running up and down stairs, and through the rooms of the house. But when put to bed at night, they cried for two hours, saying that the house would fall upon them. They had never spent a day in a house before, and were at night like birds that had been decoyed, and then robbed of their liberty. A few kisses and some promises at length quieted them, and they went to sleep.

After remaining with the author three days, they were removed to one of the Infants' Schools, where they were often visited by the widow and her aunt. Soon after this the eldest girl was taken ill. A medical gentleman attended her at the tent, a little way from the town, whither her grandmother had begged to remove her for change of air. But the sickness of this child _was unto death_. She was a lovely and affectionate girl, notwithstanding the disadvantages under which she had necessarily laboured. When on her bed, in the tent, suffering much pain, she was asked by a gentleman, "Although you love Mr Crabb so much, would you rather live with him, or die, and go to Jesus?" She answered, "I would rather die and go to Jesus." Her death very much affected her grandmother. She would not leave the corpse, which she often affectionately embraced, till persuaded she would endanger her own life. This appeared a melancholy event to all who wished well to the Gipsies in the neighbourhood of Southampton. For the widow, fearing her child would become ill and die too, immediately removed her from the school. And many of the Gipsy people treated the women with great contempt, for giving up their children; and the prospects of doing them lasting good, became very much beclouded. It was however represented to them, that God was doing all things for the best, and their spirits were soothed; and in consequence, the little fatherless girl was again brought to the school.

After this event, the women remained a considerable time in the neighbourhood, waiting to see if the little one, again given up to the author, would be kindly treated. By this detention they were often brought into the company of good people, whose kindness gained their confidence. They began to listen to invitations to settle in the town, and finally determined on doing so. Even the _old_ woman, who had lived under hedges for fifty years, and who had declared but a short time before, that she would not leave her tent for a palace, now gladly occupied a house; this greatly encouraged their friends, who well knew that it was not a small sacrifice, for a Gipsy to give up what is thought by them to be their liberty.

A short time before these women removed from under the hedges, the sister of the unhappy man who had been executed, came out of Dorsetshire with her three children, on her way to Surry, where she had been accustomed to go to hop-picking. Encamping under the same hedge with the widow and her aunt, she was seen by the author in one of his visits to them. He found them one evening about six o'clock at dinner, and took his seat near them; and while they were regaling themselves with broiled meat, potatoes, and tea, the following interesting conversation took place.

"Sir," said the widow, "this is my sister and her children." No one could have introduced this woman and her little ones with more easy simplicity than she did, while, by the smile on her swarthy countenance, she exhibited real heartfelt pleasure. "I am glad to see you, my good woman;" said the author, "are these your children?" "Yes, sir," replied she, very cheerfully. "And where are you going?" "I am going into Surry, sir." "Have you not many difficulties to trouble you in your way of life?" "Yes, sir," answered she. The author continued, "I wish you would let me have your children to provide for and educate." "Not I, indeed," she replied sharply; "others may part with their children, if they like, but I will never part with mine." "Well, my good woman, the offer to educate them has done no harm: let me hope it will do good. I would have you recollect that you have now a proposal made you of bettering their present and future condition. You and I must soon meet at the judgment-seat of Christ, to give an account of this meeting; and you know that I can do better for your little ones than you can." She was silent. The author then addressed these people and left the tents.

The next day he visited the camp again, when the widow woman said, "Sir, my sister was so _cut up_ (putting her hand to her heart), with what you said last night, that she could not eat any more, and declared she felt as she never had done before; and she has determined to come and live with us at Michaelmas." What was still better, in consequence of what was said to this poor stranger, she did not go to the races, although she had stopped near Southampton for that purpose.

From this time endeavours were made to confirm the woman's intentions to stay at Southampton, and to place her children with the other. She was asked, why she would not stay at Southampton then? "Why, to tell you the truth," said she, "for it's no use to tell a lie about that, I don't want to bring my children to you, like vagabonds; and as we shall earn a good _bit_ of money at hopping, I shall buy them some clothes; and then, if you will take me a room at Michaelmas, I will surely return and live in Southampton, and my children shall go to school; but I will never give them up entirely." She continued with her sister till the house which had been taken for the latter was ready; during which time a gentleman from Ireland, then living near the encampment, had her children every day to his house, and taught them to read. The remembrance of him will be precious to them for ever. She came on the day appointed, and her children were put to the Infants' School, where they have continued ever since, clean and respectable, and very diligent in their learning. They often explain the Scriptures to their mother. One of them has long been a monitor in the school. May she continue a credit to the institution in which she has been so far educated.

Although the mother of these children is not yet decidedly pious, she is very much improved. She is now able to read her Testament with tolerable ease, takes great pleasure in receiving instruction, and we hope is deeply impressed with the importance of personal religion. She attends public worship diligently, and loves Christians, whom she once hated. She weeps with abhorrence over past crimes, and says she would rather have her hands cut off, than do as she has done. For more than twelve months after living at Southampton, she continued occasionally to tell fortunes for the gain it brought her. But a remarkable dream led her to see the wickedness of this practice; for it so terrified her that she rose from her bed, lighted a fire, and burnt the book in which she had pretended to see the fortune of others. Large sums of money had been offered her for this volume; but, though in extreme poverty, she determined to make any sacrifice, rather than enrich herself by its sale. She dreamed that she was at the adult school, where she regularly attended, and, that while she was reading her Testament, it changed into a book of divination, and she began to tell the fortune of the lady who was teaching her; and while thus employed, she thought she heard awful thunderings, and the sound of trumpets; after which a tremendous tempest ensued, during which she fancied herself in an extensive plain, exposed to all the fury of the storm. She then thought the day of judgment was come, and that she was summoned to render up her account. She awoke in great terror, and as soon as she had a little recovered herself, arose and followed the example of those we read of in the Acts of the Apostles:--_And many of them which also used curious arts_, _brought their books together_, _and burned them before all men_; _and they counted the price of them_, _and found fifty thousand pieces silver_. Acts xix. 19.

When relating this dream to a lady, she was asked whether she had formerly been in the habit of seeking by any means, the aid of the devil, in order to know future events; it having been asserted that many of the Gipsies had done so. She informed the lady that she never had done so, and that she thought none of her people had any thing to do with him, otherwise than by giving themselves up to do wickedly. The devil tempted them to do still worse; as those who neglect to seek to God for help, must of course be under the power of the wicked one.

CHAP. VIII. Of the plans pursued by the Southampton Committee, and the success which has attended them, continued.

Sixteen reformed Gipsies are now living at Southampton, one of whom is the aged Gipsy whose history has been published by a lady. {72} There are also her brother and four of his children, her sister, who has been a wanderer for more than fifty years, and her daughter, three orphans, and a boy who has been given up to the Committee by his mother, a woman and her three children, and the young woman before mentioned, who has, since her reformation, lost her two children by the measles.

In addition to those who have retired from a wandering life, and are pursuing habits of honest industry, three other families, whose united number is sixteen, begged the privilege of wintering with us in the beginning of 1831. These Gipsies regularly attended divine service twice on a Sunday, and on the work-day evenings the adults went to school to learn to read. The children were placed at one of the Infants' Schools. The prospects of doing one of the families lasting good, are rather dark, as they are grown old and hardened in crime; but the condition of the others is more encouraging. The children, who would gladly have stayed longer with us, were sickly; and it is apprehended, had not this been the case, the parents would have continued longer, that they might have gone to school. Two women, mother and daughter, in one family, are much interested in the worship of God, and already begin to feel the value of their souls; and both regret that they are under the necessity of submitting to the arbitrary will of the father. One of them declared that she could never more act as a Gipsy, and with weeping eyes she said, that, she feared she never should be pardoned, or saved. When directed to go to Jesus, she replied, she knew not how to go to him. In three days they will leave us, and it will be a painful separation. It was very gratifying to the author to see so many Gipsies attend the house of God, and he frequently recollected with pleasure, that promise of holy Scripture, _For as the rain cometh down_, _and the snow from heaven_, _and returneth not thither_, _but watereth the earth_, _and maketh it bring forth and bud_, _that it may give seed to the sower_, _and bread to the eater_: _so shall my word be that goeth forth of my mouth_: _it shall not return unto me void_, _but it shall accomplish that which I please_, _and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I send it_. _For ye shall go out with joy_, _and be led forth with peace_; _the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing_, _and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands_. _Instead of the thorn shall come up the __fur tree_, _and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree_: _and it stall be to the Lord for a name_, _for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off_.

Six of the children are at an Infants' School at Southampton, and three others attend a charity school; and another is learning to be a coach wheelwright. This youth has behaved so well in his situation, that he has been advanced by his master to a higher branch in the business. His fellow-workmen, who at first disliked him for being a Gipsy, have subscribed money to assist him in the purchase of additional tools, to which the foreman added five shillings, and the master _one pound_. This is a most encouraging circumstance.