He re Your readers may take the following as a specimen of the favourite and complete costume worn by young chiefs or captains of the tribe, about half a century ago, in Scotland. When I speak of gypsey captains, I do not genof large hordes. These old sagacious erally mean those old patriarchal chiefs persons kept themselves clear of all dangerous scrapes, professing to the public while their sons, or other principal great innocence, honesty, and justice, members of their families, were employed in active service at the head of gangs, plundering for the subsistence of their aged parents. his master, and the unconscionable wanderer, he, with his teeth, took hold tinkler prosecuted his journey with bis of the bare thigh of one of the Highprize. He was, however, not always landers, beneath his kilt, and bit it most so fortunate. Being once apprehended cruelly. near Dumblane, it was the intention of the messengers to carry their prisoner direct to Perth, but they were under the necessity of lodging him in the nearest prison for the night. Brown was no sooner in custody than he began to meditate his escape. quested it as a favour, that they would quested it as a favour, that they would sit up all night with him in a public house instead of a prison, promising them as much meat and drink for their indulgence and trouble as they should desire. His request was granted, and four or five officers were accordingly placed in and about the room in which he was confined, as a guard upon his person, being aware of the desperate character they had to deal with. He took care to ply them well with the bottle; and, early next morning before setting out, he desired one of the officers to put up the window a little to cool their apartment, as it was then very warm weather, being in the middle of summer. After having walked several times across the room, the gypsey, all at once, threw himself out at the open window, which was a considerable beight from the ground. The bue and cry was at his heels in no time, and as some of the officers were gaining ground upon him in his flight, be boldly faced about upon them, drew forth from below his coat a dagger which he brandished in the air, and threatened instant death to the first who should approach him. He was at this time suffered to make his escape, as none had the courage to advance upon him. He was, however, at a subsequent period, taken in a wood in Rannoch, being surprised and overpowered by a party of Highlanders, raised for the purpose of apprehending him and dispersing his band, who lay in the wood in which he was taken. He thought to evade their vigilance and pursuit by clapping close to the ground like a wild beast. Upon his being seized, a furious scuffle ensued; and, during the violent tossing and struggling which took place while they were securing this sturdy His Brown, before mentioned, when in full dress, wore a hat richly ornamented and trimmed with beautiful gold lace, which, I believe, was then fashionable among the first ranks in Scotland, particularly among the officers of the army; and now, perhaps, with some variation, worn by valets and other menial servants. His coat was made of superfine cloth, of a light green colour, long in the tails, and having one row of buttons at the breast. shirt, of the finest quality, was ruffled at the breast and hands, with a stock and buckle round his neck. He also wore a pair of handsome boots, with silver plated spurs, all in the fashion of the day. Below his garments be carried a large knife, and in the shaft or butt-end of his huge whip a small spear or dagger was concealed. His brother-in-law, Wilson, was frequently dressed in a similar garb, and both rode the best horses in the country. Having the appearance of gentlemen in their babit, and assuming the manners of such, which they imitated to a wonderful degree, few persons took these men for gypsies. Several individuals represent Brown and Wilson to me as very handsome men, tall and stout made, with agreeable and manly countenances; and among the numberless thefts and robberies which they had committed in their day, they were never known VOL. 6.] Anecdotes of Scotch Gypsies. to have taken a sixpence from persons of an inferior class, but, on the contrary, rather assisted the poorer classes in their pecuniary matters, with a generous liberality not at all to be looked for from men of their habits and manner of life. Charlie, by some called William, another brother of Sandie Brown, was run down by a party of military and messengers near Dundee. He was carried to Perth, where he was tried, condemned, and hanged, to atone for the numerous crimes of which he was guilty. He was a man of great personal strength, and, after he was hand-cuffed, regretting having allowed himself to be so easily taken, he in wrath drove the messengers before him with his feet as if they had been mere children. He was conveyed to Perth by water, in consequence of it being reported, that the gypsies of Fife, with the Grahams and Ogilvies at their head, were in motion to rescue him from the clutches of the officers of the law. 467 66 was kindled, and from whence the pri- George Brown, another me and While he was in that apartment in the prison called the Cage, or rather, the condemned cell, he, by a stratagem, freed himself from his heavy irons, and broke his mauacies to pieces. By some unknown means, he set fire to the damp straw on which he lay, within his cell, with a design, as it was supposed, to make his escape in the confusion which might take place in conse. quence of the prison being on fire. Surprised at the house being in flames, and suspecting that Brown had been the cause of it, and that he was free from his chains, ramping like a lion within his den, no person in the hurry could be found who had resolution enough to venture into him, till a brawney broad-shouldered serjeant of the 42d regiment courageously volunteered his services. However, before he would face the determined tinkler, he requested authority from the magistrate to defend himself with his broad sword, should he be attacked; and in case the 'prisoner became desperate, to cut him down. This permission being obtained, he drew his sword, and, as stated Old Jamie Robison, brother-in-law to me, he, with the assistance of the to Wilson before mentioned, was an jailor's daughter, unbarred the doors, excellent musician, and was in great till he came to the cage, where the fire request at fairs and country weddings. He, sometimes with his wife and numerous sisters, danced in a particular fashion, changing and regulating the figures of the dance by means of a bonnet. When his wife and sisters got themselves intoxicated, which was often the case, and himself more than half seas over, it was a wild and extra"agant scene to see these light-footed msels, with loose and flowing hair, gcing with great vigour on the grass qin open field, while Jamie was, with sius might and main, like the devil houg to the witches in "Tam o' thenr," keeping these bacchanaindu fierce and animating music. desire. mes was like to flag in his exfour or please them, they have been placed ing loudly to him, like Maghe was r to Rob the Ranter, the piperson,y up, Jamie Robison, if evcharactweel it will be a wonder," betook ca regardless of all sense of dec bottle; decorum whatever. But notwithstanding all this dissoluteness of manners, and professed roguery, this man Robison, when trusted, was strictly honest. A decent man in his neighbourhood, of the name of Robert Gray, many a time lent him sums of money to purchase large ox horns, and other articles, in the east of of Fife. He always paid him on the very day he promised, with the greatest punctuality and civility. The following anecdote will show the zeal which he once displayed in resenting an insult which he conceived to be offered to his friend Mr. Gray. In one of his excursions through Fife, he happened to be lying on the ground, basking himself in the sun, and baiting his ass on the road-side, when a countryman, who was an entire stranger to him, came past, singing to himself, in lightness of heart, a Scottish song, which, unfortunately for the man, Jamie had never heard before; and on the unconscions stranger coming to the words in the ditty, "Auld Robin Gray was a kind man to me," the hot-blooded gypsey started to his feet, and, with his bludgeon, accompanied with a volley of oaths, brought the poor fellow to the ground, repeating his blows in a violent manner, telling him in his pas sion, that "Auld Robin Gray was a kind man to him indeed, but it was not enough for him to make a song on Robin for that." He had nearly put this innocent traveller to death in the beat of his indignation, thinking that he was satirizing his friend in a scurrilous song. It was an invariable custom with Robison, that whenever he passed Robert Gray's house, although it should have been at the dead hour of night, he always drew out his "bread winner," and serenaded him with a few of his best airs, in gratitude for his kindness. I find, amongst a good deal of other information which has come into my hands on this subject, that English gypsies entered Scotland disguised like gentlemen, in the same manner as we find Sandie Brown, whom I spoke of before, had been traversing England. Grabam of Lochgellie once in particular recognised, by signal, one of these scouts, or ambassadors, perambulating the county of Fife, well mounted in all respects on horseback. Grabam had never seen him before. He called him a "traveller," and they were exceedingly happy at meeting with one another. This stranger and travelling brother was taken to Lochgellie, and there feasted and entertained with all the hospitality and kindness peculiar_to_the tribe. Female gypsies from England have also been seen in this county. About thirty years since, one of these females was observed telling fortunes here. She had an astonishing know ledge of towns in different parts of the world. Her stature was very tall, with a strong robust person. Her eye-brows had the appearance of being very much arched, in consequence of the hair, with part of the skin of the brow, being painted or stained, after the manner of the Arabians and Persians, with a brown colour, made of juice extracted from certain herbs. She was dressed in an uncommon manner; her clothes were in good condition; and her petticoats did not reach below the calves of her legs. She spoke in a commanding tone; and altogether a very imposing aspect; and was attended by a party of our own Scottish vagrants. I have now given you some idea of VOL. 6.] Ivanhoe, by the author of Waverly.' the manner in which gypsies were, from their very infancy, painfully trained to theft and robbery, the leading features in the general character of that race; and particulars of the manner and style in which single gypsies, at one period, traversed this country; and will ere long 469 detail to you the extraordinary proceedings which take place at their marriages, when some account of the priest, if I may so call him, and the parties concerned, will be necessary, in explaining the ceremonies observed on these occasions. W.S. IVANHOE. Extracted from Blackwood's (Edinburgh) Magazine. A FTER the first hasty perusal of a work which unites so much novelty of representation with a depth of conception, and a power of passion equal, at least, to what had been exhibited in the best of its predecessors, it is no wonder that we should find ourselves left in a state of excitement not much akin to the spirit of remark or disquisition. Such has been the mastery of the poet; such the perfect working of the spell, by which he has carried us with him, back into his troubled, but majestic shape of vision, that we feel as if we had just awakened from an actual dream of beauty and wonder, and have some difficulty in resuming the consciousness, to say nothing of the more active functions of our ordinary and prosaic life. Never were the long gathered stores of the most extensive erudition applied to the purposes of imaginative genius, with so much easy, lavish, and luxurious power-never was the illusion of fancy so complete made up of so many minute elements, and yet producing such entireness of effect. It is as if the veil of ages had been in truth swept back, and we ourselves had been for a time living, breathing, and moving in the days of Coeur de Lion-days how different from our own; the hot, tempestuous, chivalrous, passionate, fierce youth of Christendom. Every line in the picture is true to the life: every thing in the words, in the gestures; every thing in the very faces of the personages called up before us, speaks of times of energetic volition, uncontrolled action, disturbance, tumult, the storms and whirlwinds of restless sons and ungoverned passion. It seems as if the atmosphere around them were all alive with the breath of trumpets, and the neighing of chargers, and the echo of war cries. And yet, with a true and beautiful skilfulness, the author has rested the main interest of his story, not upon these fiery externals, in themselves so full of attraction, and every way so characteristic of the age to which they story refers, but on the working of that most poetical of passions, which is ever deepest where it is most calm, quiet, and delicate, and which less than any other, is changed even in its modes of manifestation, in conformity with the changes of time, manners, and circumstances. For the true interest of this romance of the days of Richard, is placed neither in Richard himself, nor the knight of Ivanhoe, the nominal hero, nor in any of the haughty templars or barons, who occupy along with them the front of the scene; but in the still, devoted, sad, and unrequited tenderness of a Jewish damsel, by far the most fine and at the same time the most romantic creation of female character whatever, that is to be found in the whole annals either of poetry or of romance. On the whole, we have no doubt this romance will be in the highest degree popular here, but still more so in England. Surely the hearts of our neighbours will rejoice within them, when they find their own ancient mannersare about to be embalmed, as we have no doubt they will in many succeeding novels, by the same masterly hand, which has already conferred services of that sort so inestimable upon us." NOVELS. From the same. INCE, in modern times, the different modes of national existence are no longer capable of being represented in epic poems, it has become the task of the novelist to copy, in an humbler style, the humbler features exhibited by human life. Of all novels, Don Quixote (which was the earliest great work in that line) has most resemblance to an epic. It has little to do with cities, but relates chiefly to the indigenous national mauners remaining visible in Spanish country-life, and to chivalry; which, being unable any longer to hold its place in society, could not be introduced among contemporary objects, except in masquerade. Fielding also represented English country-manners with their roots still fixed in their native soil. Le Sage and Smollet both bear traces of the adulteration which natural characteristics undergo, when plucked up, and boiled together, in the town cauldrons. Goethe has preserved the rural life of the Germans in Herman and Dorothea; which, although written in the form of a poem, bears a close affinity to some of the higher sorts of novels. And, lastly, some person, who seems averse to have his name too often repeated, has fairly pasted the flowers of Scotland into his herbals of Guy Mannering, Old Mortality, &c. for perpetual preservation. These form the highest class of the novels which have dealt in actual existences, and not in pastimes of imagination. In proportion as society has undergone the influence of detrition, succeeding novels of the pourtraying class have grown more limited in their objects, more slight in their execution, and more ephemeral in their interest. The external aspect of town-life no longer affords any thing worthy of being painted for posterity; and the country-people, feeling the influence of an intellectual ascendancy proceeding from the cities, have lost confidence in their own impressions. The uniformity of habits, imposed by most trades and professions, has eradicated freedom and variety of volition from those who exercise them, and has caused every unfolding of character, except what bears on a certain point, to be considered as superfluous and pernicious. Novelists have therefore, for some time past, found more persons in the highest circles fit for exhibition than any where else, except in life approaching to barbarism. Unshackled by the drudgeries of life, and standing in awe of few persons' opinions, the leaders of fashion have been able to let their minds shoot forth in a considerable variety of forms and affectations, which, although neither noble nor useful, have served to afford some amusement to gaping spectators in the other classes. Only such individuals of the lower class have been dragged in, as happened to retain some uncouth traits of physiognomy. However, as the manifestations exhibited in fashionable life are without system or coherency, and have no root in any thing permanent, they cannot be painted, once for all, in any standard performance; and hence a succession of flimsy publications keeps pace with their changes. The manners and con cerns of the middle classes have also been handled in works, which are not written like the highest novels, for the sake of recording the developements exhibited by the human mind, but which may be called moral novels; because they have generally a didactic purpose, relating to existing circumstances, and are meant to shew the causes of success or failure in life, or the ways in which happiness or misery is produced by the different management of the passions and affections. To judge how far the modes of existence of the different classes are worth painting, it would be necessary to take a glance at the objects, passions, or employments which respectively fill up their lives. The highest class has more room than any other, to sprout forth in spontaneous form; but its aims are for the most part neither higher nor serious, and its force like that of rockets, is spent |
