

Transcribed from the [1894?] Willsons’ edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org





                                INCIDENTS
                                    IN
                              A GIPSY’S LIFE


                                    BY
                              GEORGE SMITH.

                                * * * * *

                                THE ROYAL
                          EPPING FOREST GIPSIES

                               THE GROUNDS,

                         INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION

                                LIVERPOOL.

                                * * * * *

                                WILLSONS’,
                         NEW WALK PRINTING WORKS,
                                LEICESTER.

                                * * * * *




THE FOLLOWING NOTABLE PERSONS HAVE PAID A VISIT TO MY PEOPLE.


  H.M. QUEEN VICTORIA.

  PRINCE VICTOR.

  SON OF THE KHEDIVE OF EGYPT.

  LORD LATHOM, High Chamberlain.

  LORD POLTIMORE.

  LORD CAMPBELL.

  LORD MONKS.

  LORD MAYO.

  LORD CLONMELL.

  LORD FARNHAM.

  LATE DUKE OF MACLIN.

  MARQUIS & MARCHIONESS OF TWEEDALE.

  SIR DAVID (Mayor of Liverpool) and LADY RADCLIFFE.

  SIR A. B. WALKER, Bart.

  SIR JOHN MAXWELL STIRLING.

                                    ALSO

  SON OF THE BISHOP OF WORCESTER.

  BISHOP OF THE ISLE OF MAN.

  LETTER FROM GOVERNOR WALPOLE of I.O.M.

  10 LETTERS FROM THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.

  And at the GREAT CARNIVAL of 1894, principal Citizens of Glasgow.




PREFACE.


My idea in writing this little pamphlet is to enlighten the minds of
people as to the mode of living, and the customs of our tribe; and I
think the reader will be convinced that we are not the desperadoes that
some people think, but, on the other hand, honest living and a christian
race; always ready to do good.  To young men especially, if they follow
my career they will find that my success in life is due to being
straight-forward and honest in all my dealings; firm purpose of mind; and
an object to gain; the result is success, and I hope it may prove a
benefit to the rising generation.

Shortly, I shall produce a full Biography of my life.

                                                         Yours faithfully,
                                                             GEORGE SMITH.




THE LIFE OF A GIPSY.


Many writers have spent months and years of _their_ lives in studying the
language, character, and customs of the Romany Rye.  Many able pens have
written volumes on the subject.

For my part I simply give an unvarnished statement of facts, as they
occur to me, so that my readers may glean some little information as to
the general life and incidents in the career of a gipsy.

With regard to the language of the Romany, whether heard in the most
distant parts of the globe or in the Liverpool Exhibition (as spoken by
my family), it is the same as in different counties in the United Kingdom
and in different provinces of continental countries; a slight _patois_
may be observable, but in the main the initiated know that the Romany
holds its own with the nomadic people the world over.

For character, climate, and circumstances, may in many instances vary the
Gitano, Romany, or Bohemian, as we are called, but custom (go where the
traveller may) remains the same, the nature and habit of the true Romany
prompting him, or her, to a wandering life, and to revel as it were in
nature’s solitude.  To begin with, I was born on the 3rd of May, 1830, my
birth place being on the common called Mousehold Heath, Norwich, Norfolk,
my parents having but a few months previously left their old camping
ground in Epping Forest, near London.

For many, many years, my ancestors recognised the Forest of Epping as
their head quarters, and to this day at intervals we visit the spot, a
sort of pilgrimage to Mecca as it were; but alas, how different a form it
presents to that which it did in my boyhood’s days.

House dwellers often have remarked as to the life we lead: many have
suggested it to be unhealthy.  Now to prove to the contrary, my dear
mother died at the age of 75, and my father at the age of 81.

I think, speaking of one family only, this will be a sufficient answer as
to whether the life of a gipsy, breathing nature’s own atmosphere, is as
good as a dweller in houses or not.  My family consists of eight
children—four boys and four girls—the eldest whom is now 28, the youngest
reaching 16.

As a boy, I travelled the greater part of the United Kingdom, when
reaching twelve, my aptitude for trading in horses (thanks to my father’s
tuition) began to exhibit itself.  My first business transaction
consisted of receiving a present of a pony.  One day, shortly after the
Epping Fair of 1842, I was sent by my parents to the Manor House at
Loughton, with some basket-ware.  Being some distance from our camp, one
of the upper servants very kindly attended to my inward wants, and having
packed the silver for the ware, for safety, in a piece of brown paper, in
my breeches pocket, I started off for the forest.  After leaving the
lodge, to my astonishment, I found the lady of the manor which I had just
left, coming to grief down the road.  Without the slightest idea of fear,
young as I was, I stopped the pony—both of us being down.  On rising, I
found myself unhurt, the only damage done being the fright of the lady
and her friend, and one of the shafts of the little carriage broken.  My
pockets were, as a rule, a general receptacle for everything, so, in a
few minutes, by the aid of a piece of string, a couple of nails, and a
stone as a hammer, I had repaired the damage, and improvised a curb for
the pony, and saw things straight.  Prior to the lady leaving me, she
desired me to drive the pony home, after doing which she presented me
with a crown piece, and seeing me so pleased, she told the stud groom
might have the pony, as she would never trust it again—to my great
astonishment—and with my new possession, and the addition of many thanks,
I rode off again for home, as proud and as happy as any king.  The
precise spot being, as I remember, the famous old oak, wherein King
Charles hid in the Forest of Epping—the tree has long since been a thing
of the past.  Many a time have I, in my boyhood, heard my
great-great-grandmother tell our visitors of the time when the shadow of
its branches covered an acre of ground.  A chartered fair has for many
years been held on the spot, taking place on the first Friday in July,
and, even now, Londoners may be seen, on the Sunday after the first
Friday, wending their way, thousands in number, some in conveyances of
every sort and style, some footing it to Epping from the Mile End Road,
Whitechapel, and environs.  The Cockneys well attend the one remaining
link of the past, “Fairlop Fair.”  Some few years since, splendidly built
full rigged boats were taken on trollies by the Limehouse block makers to
the fair at Fairlop, the boats being drawn by splendid teams of grey
horses, beautifully caparisoned, and well decorated with oak leaves, the
drivers and artisans wearing the old-fashioned blue coat, white hat, and
top boots.  Even now, in my ears, I remember the old-fashioned doggrel
chorus, sung by them on the spot of the old oak’s resting place—

    “The Charter we have got,
    We claim this grand old spot,
    Old Fairlop, Fairlop Fair,
    This be our refrain,
    Shall flourish and flourish again and again.”

I need not say Fairlop Fair was a little gold mine to the members of our
tribe.  The Cockneys to the present day consider the Gipsies to be part
and parcel of the festival and annual gathering, none being so happy as
the favoured ones who could boast of having had tea in a gipsy’s tent.

My horsedealing propensities grew with me as I grew.

When I arrived at the age of 26, I then took to myself a wife.  Long may
we both live to be in the future, as in the past, a comfort to each
other.  Corinda Lee, daughter of the then recognised heads of the Lee
tribe of Epping Gipsies, mother of my children and joy of my life, long
may we yet travel this journey of life up hill and down hill together.
Our marriage in the old village of Waltham Abbey brought together over
fifty families of Gipsies for the junketings and sports, so freely
indulged in in the old times, lasting as they did over the three days.

I had been married but three months when the first offer of settling down
took place.  A gentleman named Hewitt, of the firm of Huggins’ Brewery
Co., for whom I had purchased many valuable horses, offered to place me
in a livery stable then for sale in Clerkenwell parish, the price for the
same being £1700.  I suggested the acceptance, having the chance on very
good terms to pay out of the profits.  My wife, however, flatly declined
the, to me, favourable opportunity, her objection to living amongst
chimneys being too great to combat, like the sailor in the storm pitying
the poor landsmen.  Unlike many of her sex, to this day _she has not
changed her mind_.

Shortly after this I was appointed the head of ten gipsy families, and I
started a tour of the United Kingdom.  After a few days a more orderly
company could, I think, be scarcely organised.  Our tents, caravans,
horses, and harness, were greatly admired; trading in our usual form,
with baskets of our own make, and selling horses, we caused at times
almost too much attention, so much so, even at our meals we could not
keep people out of our tents, although located at some distance from the
towns and villages, so I determined to rent or hire fields for our
camping grounds.  Even then it was impossible to keep intruders out; at
length a happy idea struck me, viz., to charge a fee for admission to
those wishing to gratify their ofttimes intrusive curiosity, in doing
which I am pleased to say we were more than successful in a monetary
point of view.

Many offers of engagements were made to me; but never liking the idea of
being a servant, I refused them, and as I started so have I lived—making
a bargain for my requirements, and being satisfied with my returns.  The
Romany, doubtless, are superstitious—they like to be free.  That old
customs still adhere to us, I must admit; our language is our own, and a
true Gitano is as jealous of its possession as his honour.  Nothing can
lower one of us more than learning the house-dweller our Romanis.
Strange though it is, whilst listening, as I have done lately, to the
many words I have heard spoken by the Tamill, Hindoo, and Ceylonese
Indians in the Exhibition, we find numerous words similar to our own, and
bearing, as I understand, the same meaning.

Travelling as I have in nearly every town of note in Great Britain, it is
only natural I should know and be known, I am pleased to say, in all.  I
have met and left many friends whom it is not easy to forget.  The Press
of the several places have very kindly expressed an interest in us; so
many, in fact, to repeat would take up too much space in a little book of
this description.  Suffice it to say the remarks of the Liverpool press
alone, as attached to these lines will be readily taken by the reader as
the expressions of all, and I here thank them for the kindly interest
they have displayed in me and my family.  Many articles have been written
in papers by clever writers who have made our people a subject of thought
as to our origin, yet it seems to me an unanswered question and a
mystery.

During our travels in Scotland, I hired a field near Arthur’s Seat,
Newington, Edinburgh, wherein I gave a Gipsy’s fete and gala.  During my
three weeks stay there the amount of admission money came to £700.  Many
of the _elite_ of Edinburgh visited us, amongst others the Duke of
Buccleugh and party.  At Aberdeen a great success attended us.  In fact
in every Scottish town we visited we were the recipients of many favours,
gratefully remembered.  At Dunbar the highest honour ever accorded us was
the visit of our most gracious Sovereign Queen Victoria to our tents.

Whilst at Oxford, when giving our galas in the field in Binsey Lane, near
the Perch, we were patronised by many of the Collegians, amongst whom we
had a frequent visitor in the person of the son of the Khedive of Egypt,
who evinced great curiosity as to our people and their habits.  At Leeds
our galas at the Cremorne Gardens in 1865, during the Whit Week, brought
in over 70,000 persons; in the same year we exhibited at the Royal Oak
Park, Manchester.  Our procession of the entire tribes filled thirty
conveyances, many thousands witnessing our procession lining the streets
as they did from Newton Heath to Cheadle, both going and returning.  In
Manchester we remained one month, our tents being crowded day after day.
In Dublin for some months we held levees in the famous Rotunda Gardens.

Dr. J. Guinness Beatty, of the Exhibition Staff, well remembers our
success there, he being then Assistant Master of the Rotunda Hospital; so
successful were we, that Mr. James Dillon, the Dublin Advertising
Contractor, offered us £500 for the gate receipts during the latter
portion of our stay, which offer I must add, as with others, was very
respectfully declined.  Whilst in Ireland my time was fully occupied by
purchasing horses for the French and Belgian Armies, an occupation now
followed by my eldest son and my brother, who visit every large fair held
there.  After travelling Ireland for over five years, so contented was my
brother with the reception accorded us, that he decided to remain, and is
now permanently settled in his encampment on the Circular Road, Dublin,
carrying out his calling as a Horse Dealer.  Among many of our patrons
and visitors, I may mention Lady Butler, Lords Mayo and Clonmel, who
always exhibited towards us a genial and kindly interest.  During my stay
in Ireland I must mention the pleasure I feel at the advancement in their
education my children received by visiting the Marlboro’ Street Schools
in Dublin.  Many times have I in England extended my stay in various
towns for the sake of educating them, and it is with pleasure I feel in
having done so, it will assuredly be to their interest and welfare.
Knowing as I do that when a boy, all we of the Gipsy tribe read from and
of was “Nature’s own book.”

During the years I have travelled I have held conversations with many
wishful of learning our language.  Some have gained a slight knowledge of
our lore, but, I am pleased to say, not from my family.  In many
instances when they (the would be learners) have spoken to me, I have
heard them use terms clearly showing them to be the most gullible of the
gulled.

Seeing the announcements of the International Exhibition of Liverpool,
stating it was the intention of the Executive Council to present
originals and models of the different means of travelling as used in past
and present times, I ventured to address a letter, asking to become an
exhibitor of my caravan and tent, within which I and my family have
travelled the greater portion of the United Kingdom.  Thanks to their
consideration, permission was kindly given me to erect my encampment on
the south east corner, through their General Superintendent, Samuel Lee
Bapty, Esq.

Soon after our entry on the ground, we had the distinguished honour of a
visit from the Mayor and Mayoress (Sir David and Lady Radcliffe), and
several members of the Executive Council, all of whom expressed the
warmest satisfaction with their reception.

During our stay at the Exhibition I was honoured by a visit from His
Royal Highness Prince Victor of Hohenlohe, who, in company with Sir A. B.
Walker, Bart., and a select party from Gateacre Grange, visited my tent,
and had his fortune predicted by my wife.  The Prince professed himself
delighted with the glimpse afforded him of tent life, and on his return
to St. James’s Palace, was kind enough to write me an autograph letter,
assuring me of the deep gratification which his reception had afforded
him, and giving me a most pressing invitation to visit him at his estate
of St. Brino, near Ascot, whenever I found myself in that neighbourhood.

Among other interesting momentoes which I preserve, not so much for their
intrinsic value as for their pleasing associations, is a half-crown
presented to me by the Earl of Lathom, on visiting my tent.  It bears the
following inscription:

    “Earl of Lathom,
    Lord High Chamberlain,
    September 25, 1886.”

Nor is the least gratifying token of my connection with the Liverpool
Exhibition, a memorial presented to me by the Hindoo and Cingalese
Indians, on their departure to their own shores.  Poor exiles from their
native land!  They assured me in the touching document above alluded to
that were it not for my constant kindness to them, they would not have
been able to endure their existence in this country, but when in the
company of myself and family, they fancied themselves once more in their
own far-off home.

I shall ever look back upon my stay at the Liverpool Exhibition as one of
the brightest and happiest pages in my life.

I could go on, but the printer’s