Part 38 (1/2)

[319] Perhaps the following pa.s.sage 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 cla.s.s of vagabonds.”

I need hardly say anything further to show that Bunyan was a Gipsy. The only circ.u.mstance 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; a.s.suming 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 G.o.d combined, the world is indebted for the n.o.blest 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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: ”G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 ill.u.s.trious 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 ill.u.s.trious 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 d.a.m.n 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 pet.i.t 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 a.s.sume 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 circ.u.mstance 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 antic.i.p.ated 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 ent.i.tled to the credit of the formation of his character. Be all that as it may, Bunyan's father seems to have been a superior, and therefore important, man in the tribe, from the feet, as Southey says, of his having ”put his son to school in an age when very few of the poor were taught to read and write.”

The world never can do justice to Bunyan, unless it takes him up as a Gipsy; nor can the Christian, unless he considers him as being a Gipsy, in Abraham's bosom. His biographers have not, even in one instance, done justice to him; for, while it is altogether out of the question to call him the ”wicked tinker,” the ”depraved Bunyan,” it is unreasonable to style him a ”blackguard,” as Southey has done. He might have been a blackguard in that sense in which a youth, in a village, is termed a ”young blackguard,” for being the ringleader among the boys; or on account of his wearing a ragged coat, and carrying a hairy wallet on his shoulder, which, in a conventional sense, const.i.tute any man, in Great Britain, a blackguard. Bunyan's sins were confined to swearing, cursing, blaspheming, and lying; and were rather intensely manifested by the impetuosity of his character, or vividly described by the sincerity of his piety, and the liveliness of his genius, than deeply rooted in his nature; for he shook off the habit of swearing, (and, doubtless, that of lying,) on being severely reproved for it, by a loose and unG.o.dly woman.

Three of the kindred vices mentioned, (and, we might add the fourth, lying,) more frequently proceed from the influence of bad example and habit, than from anything inherently vicious, in a youth with so many of the good points which characterized Bunyan. His youth was even marked by a tender conscience, and a strong moral feeling; for thus he speaks of himself in ”Grace Abounding:” ”But this I well remember, that though I could myself sin, with the greatest delight and ease, and also take pleasure in the vileness of my companions, yet, even then, if I had, at any time, seen wicked things in those who professed goodness, it would make my spirit tremble. As, once above all the rest, when I was in the height of vanity, yet hearing one swear that was reckoned for a religious man, it had so great a stroke upon my spirit, that it made my heart ache.” He was the subject of these experiences before he was ten years of age. It is unnecessary to speak of his dancing, ringing bells, and playing at tip-cat and hockey. Now, let us see what was Bunyan's _moral_ character. He was not a drunkard; and he says: ”I know not whether there be such a thing as a woman breathing, under the copes of heaven, but by their apparel, their children, or by common fame, except my wife.” And he continues: ”Had not a miracle of precious grace prevented, I had laid myself open even to the stroke of those laws which bring some to disgrace and open shame, before the face of the world.”

The meaning of this is, evidently, that he never stole anything; but that it was ”by a miracle of precious grace” he was prevented from doing it. In what sense, then, was Bunyan a blackguard? There was never such occasion for him to say of himself, what John Newton said of himself, as a criminal pa.s.sed him, on the way to the gallows: ”There goes John Bunyan, but for the grace of G.o.d.” But such was the depth of Bunyan's piety, that hardly any one thought and spoke more disparagingly of himself than he did; although he would defend himself, with indignation, against unjust charges brought against him; for, however peaceable and humble he might be, he would turn most manfully upon his enemies, when they baited or badgered him. ”It began, therefore, to be rumoured, up and down among the people, that I was a witch, a Jesuit, a highwayman, and the like... . . I also call those fools and knaves that have thus made it anything of their business to affirm any of these things aforesaid of me, namely, that I have been naught with other women, or the like... . My foes have missed their mark in this their shooting at me. I am not the man. I wish that they themselves be guiltless. If all the fornicators and adulterers in England were hanged up by the neck till they be dead, John Bunyan, _the object of their envy_, would be still alive and well.” The style of his language even indicated the Gipsy; for English Gipsies, as Mr. Borrow justly remarks, speak the English language much better than the natives of the lower cla.s.ses; for this apparent reason, that they have not the dialect of any particular part of England, which would be, were they always to have resided in a particular place. It must have been more so before the middle of the seventeenth century, upwards of a hundred years after the arrival of the Gipsies in England; for, in acquiring the English language, they would keep clear of many of the rude dialects that so commonly prevail in that country. But Bunyan's language was, doubtless, drawn princ.i.p.ally from the Scriptures.

The ill.u.s.trious pilgrim had many indignities cast upon him, by the lower and unthinking cla.s.ses of the population, and by Quakers and strict Baptists. 'Twas a man like John Owen who knew how to appreciate and respect him; for, said he to Charles II.: ”I would readily part with all my learning, could I but preach like the tinker.” And what was it that supported Bunyan, amid all the abuse and obloquy to which he was exposed, as he obeyed the call of G.o.d, and preached the gospel, in season and out of season, to every creature around him? When they sneered at his origin, and the occupation from which he had risen, he said: ”Such insults I freely bind unto me, as an ornament, among the rest of my reproaches, till the Lord shall wipe them off at his coming.”

And again: ”The poor Christian hath something to answer them that reproach him for his ign.o.ble pedigree, and shortness of the glory of the wisdom of this world. I fear G.o.d. This is the highest and most n.o.ble; he hath the honour, the life, and glory that is lasting.”[323]

[323] That the rabble, or ”fellows of the baser sort,” should have pelted Bunyan with all sorts of offensive articles, when he commenced to preach the gospel, is what could naturally have been expected; but it sounds strange to read what he has put on record of the abuse heaped upon him, by people professing to be the servants of Him ”in whom there is neither Jew nor Greek, bond nor free, male nor female.”

See with what Christian humility he alludes to such treatment, as contrasted with the manly indignation which he displayed in repelling slanders. He speaks of ”the Lord wiping off such insults at his coming;” when his enemies, with the utmost familiarity and a.s.surance, may approach the judgment-seat, and demand their crowns. ”Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?” And it may be answered unto them: ”I never knew you; depart from me, ye that work iniquity.”

In Great Britain, the off-scourings of the earth can say who they are, and no prejudices are entertained against them. Half-caste Hindoos, Malays, Hottentots, and Negroes, are ”sent home,” to be educated, and made pets of, and have the choice of white women given to them for wives; but the children of a Scottish Christian Gipsy gentleman, or of a Scottish Christian Gipsy gentlewoman, dare not say who they are, were it almost to save their lives. Scottish people will wonder at what caste in India can mean, deplore its existence, and pray to G.o.d to remove it, that ”the gospel may have free course and be glorified;” yet scowl--silently and sullenly scowl--at the bare mention of John Bunyan having been a Gipsy! Scottish religious journals will not tolerate the idea to appear in their columns! To such people I would say, Offer up no more prayers to Almighty G.o.d, to remove caste from India, until they themselves have removed from the land this prejudice of caste, that hangs like an incubus upon so many of their fellow-subjects at home. It is quite time enough to carry such pet.i.tions to the Deity, when every Scottish Gipsy can make a return of himself in the census, or proclaim himself a Gipsy at the cross, or from the house-top, if need be; or, at least, after steps have been taken by the public to that end. But some of my countrymen may say: ”What are we to do, under the circ.u.mstances?”

And I reply: ”Endeavour to be yourselves, and judge of this subject as it ought to be judged. You can, at least, try to guard against your children acquiring your own prejudices.” To the rising town generation, I would look with more hope to see a better feeling entertained for the name of Gipsy. But I look with more confidence to the English than Scottish people; for this question of ”folk” is very apt to rankle and fester in the Scottish mind. I wish, then, that the British, and more especially the Scottish, public should consider itself as cited before the bar of the world, and not only the bar of the world, but the bar of posterity, to plead on the Gipsy question, that it may be seen if this is the only instance in which justice is not to be done to a part of the British population. With the evidence furnished in the present work, I submit the name of Bunyan, as a case in point, to test the principle at issue. Let British people beware how they approach this subject, for there are great principles involved in it. The social emanc.i.p.ation of the Gipsies is a question which British people have to consider for the future.

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