All hail! ye British Buccaneers!
Ye English Ishmaelites, all hail!
Against the goodliest of the land
Ye go, and ye prevail.
Where’er ye list to wander wide,
Wild heaths and wilder glens to tread,
Your hearts your only guide.
The Gipsy King. By Richard Howitt.
The picture of the Rural Life of England must be wofully defective5 which should omit those singular and most picturesque6 squatters on heaths and in lanes, the Gipsies. They make part and parcel of the landscape scenery of England. They are an essential portion of our poetry and literature. They are moulded into our[166] memories, and all our associations of the country by the surprise of our first seeing them,—by the stories of their cunning, their petty larcenies8, their fortune-tellings,—and by the writings of almost all our best poets and essayists. The poets being vividly9 impressed by anything picturesque, and partaking of some mystery and romance, universally talk of them with an unction of enjoyment10. Romance writers have found them more profitable subjects than her Majesty11 does—Scott and Victor Hugo especially. But the first introduction to them, which most of us had in print, and to which the mind of every man of taste must instantly revert12 on seeing or hearing of them, is that most admirable and racy one in the Spectator,—that gipsy adventure of our truly beloved and honoured friend, Sir Roger de Coverley—that perfect model of an old English gentleman. Who does not think of this scene with a peculiar13 delight, especially since it has received so exquisite14 a representation from the pencil of Leslie? “As I was yesterday riding out in the fields with my friend Sir Roger, we saw at a little distance from us a troop of gipsies. Upon the first discovery of them, my friend was in some doubt whether he should not exert the Justice of the Peace upon a band of lawless vagrants15; but not having his clerk with him, who is a necessary counsellor on these occasions, and fearing that his poultry16 might fare the worse for it, he let the thought drop, but at the same time gave me a particular account of the mischiefs17 they do in the country in stealing peoples’ goods, and spoiling their servants. If a stray piece of linen18 hangs upon a hedge, says Sir Roger, they are sure to have it; if the hog19 loses its way in the fields, it is ten to one but it becomes their prey20. Our geese cannot live in peace for them.
“‘If a man prosecutes21 them with severity, his hen-roost is sure to pay for it. They generally straggle into this part of the country about this time of the year, and set the heads of our servant maids so agog22 for husbands, that we do not expect to have any business done as it should be while they are in the country. I have an honest dairymaid who crosses their hands with a piece of silver every summer, and never fails being promised the handsomest young fellow in the parish for her pains. Your friend the butler has been fool enough to be seduced23 by them; and though he is sure to lose a knife, a fork, or a spoon, every time his fortune is[167] told him, generally shuts himself up in the pantry with an old gipsy for above half an hour once a twelvemonth. Sweethearts are the things which they live upon, which they bestow24 very plentifully25 upon all those that apply themselves to them. You see now and then some handsome young jades26 amongst them,—the sluts have very often white teeth and black eyes.’
“Sir Roger observing that I listened with great attention to his account of a people who were so entirely27 new to me, told me that if I would, they should tell us our fortunes. As I was very well pleased with the knight28’s proposal, we rid up and communicated our hands to them. A Cassandra of the race, after having examined my lines very diligently29, told me that I loved a pretty maid in a corner; that I was a good woman’s man; with some other particulars which I do not think proper to relate. My friend Sir Roger alighted from his horse, and exposing his palm to two or three that stood by him, they crumpled30 it into all shapes, and diligently scanned every wrinkle that could be made in it; when one of them, who was older and more sunburnt than the rest, told him that he had a widow in his line of life. Upon which the knight cried, ‘go, go, you are an idle baggage,’ and at the same time smiled upon me. The gipsy, finding that he was not displeased31 in his heart, told him, after a further inquiry32 into his hand, that his true-love was constant, and that he should dream of her to-night. My old friend cried, ‘Pish,’ and bid her go on. The gipsy told him that he was a bachelor, but would not be so long; and that he was dearer to somebody than he thought. The knight still repeated that she was an idle baggage, and bid her go on. ‘Ah, master,’ says the gipsy, ‘that roguish leer of yours makes a woman’s heart ache. You have not that simper about the mouth for nothing.’ The uncouth33 gibberish with which all this was uttered, like the darkness of an oracle34, made us the more attentive35 to it. To be short, the knight left the money with her that he had crossed the hand with, and got up again on his horse.
“As we were riding away, Sir Roger told me, that he knew several sensible people who believed these gipsies now and then foretold36 very strange things; and for half an hour together appeared more jocund37 than ordinary. In the height of his good humour, meeting a common beggar upon the road who was no[168] conjuror38, as he went to relieve him, he found his pocket picked; that being a kind of palmistry at which this race of vermin are very dexterous39.”
This is a perfect piece of gipsyism. Wordsworth, Cowper, Crabbe, and others of our poets, have given very graphic40 sketches41 of them; but in all these descriptions you have the same characteristics, those of a strange, vagabond, out-of-door, artful, and fortune-telling people. This was for a long time the only point of view in which they were regarded. That they were a thievish and uncivilizable race everybody knew, but what was their real origin, or what their real country, few cared to inquire. It, in fact, quite satisfied the public to consider them as what they pretended to be, Egyptians. In all the descriptions I have alluded42 to, no reference whatever is made to their origin. Addison alone hints that he could give some historical remarks on this idle people, but he does not think it worth while. But a more inquisitive43 age came. It began to strike the minds of intelligent men, as the love of the picturesque, the love of whatever was quiet, ancient, singular, or poetic44 in the features of the country grew into a strong public feeling, that there was something far more curious and mysterious about this people than merely met the eye. That they were a peculiar variety of the human species, and had hereditary46 causes, whether prejudices or traditions, which stamped them, as distinctly and as stubbornly, a separate portion of humanity as the Jews, became obvious enough. That which had been supposed a mere45 gibberish in their mouths, was found to be true Eastern language, and it was discovered that they not merely “infested47 all Europe,” as Addison remarked, but all the world. In every quarter of it they were found, exhibiting the same strange and unchangeable lineaments, manners, and habits; in Egypt, as separate from the Egyptians in speech and custom, as they are separate from the English in England. Great curiosity was now excited concerning them, and we get a glimpse, in the following verses of the Ettrick Shepherd, of the speculations48 which arose out of the consequent inquiries49.
Where England’s loanings stretch unsoiled and wide,
Their children lolling round them on the grass,
Men in their prime—the striplings dark and dun,
O mark them well when next the group you see,
In vacant barn, or resting on the lea;
They are the remnant of a race of old—
Spare not the trifle for your fortune told!
A mould of soul distinct, but hard to trace,
Unknown except to Israel’s wandering race;
O mark them well! the tales of old are true!
In these verses, which seem intended by Hogg as the commencement of a poem on the Gipsy history, he goes on to tell us that they were a tribe of Arabs that during the Crusades were induced to act as guides and allies of the Crusaders against Jerusalem, and were therefore compelled, on the retreat of the Christians65, to flee too. It was not at all surprising that they should be regarded as the real descendants of Ishmael, for they have all the characteristics of his race,—an Eastern people, retaining all their features of mind or body in unchangeable fixedness—neither growing fairer in the temperate67 latitudes68, nor darker in the sultry ones; perpetual wanderers and dwellers69 in tents; active, fond of horses, often herdsmen, artful, thievish, restrained by no principle but that of a cunning policy from laying hands on any man’s possessions; fond to enthusiasm of the chase after game, though obliged to follow it at midnight; as everlastingly70 isolated72 by their organic or moral conformation from the people amongst whom they dwell as the Jews themselves. The very prophecy seemed fulfilled in them, beyond what it could be in Araby itself, where they have been repeatedly subdued73 to the dominion74 of some conqueror75, while this tribe seems in all countries to maintain its character as the genuine posterity76 of him who was to be a wild hunter in perpetual independence.
The Germans, however, who pursue every subject of curious[170] inquiry with the same searching perseverance77, took up this Gipsy mystery; and the result of their researches, founded principally on their language, at present leads to the adoption78 of the theory that they are a Hindu tribe. For a full view of the subject, I must refer my readers to the works of Grellman and Buttner, who have pursued this inquiry with great learning and zeal79, or to a very able summary in Malte Brun’s Geography: my limits will compel me to take a more rapid notice of it. The sum and substance of their case is this. They find occupation in some countries as smiths and tinkers; they mend broken plates, and sell wooden ware80. A class of them in Moldavia and Wallachia lead a settled life, and gain a subsistence by working and searching for gold in the beds of rivers. Those in the Bannat of Hungary are horse-dealers, and are gradually obeying the enactments81 of Joseph II., by which they are compelled to cultivate the land; but the great majority in Europe abhor82 a permanent residence and stated hours of labour. The women abuse the credulity of the German and Polish peasants, who imagine that they cure their cattle by witchcraft83, and predict fortunate events by inspecting the lineaments of the hand. It is lawful84 for the wives of the Tchinganes in Turkey to commit adultery with impunity85. Many individuals of both sexes, particularly throughout Hungary, are passionately86 fond of music, the only science in which they have, as yet, attained88 any degree of perfection. They are the favourite minstrels of the country people: some have arrived at eminence89 in cathedrals and the choirs90 of princes. Their guitar is heard in the romantic woods of Spain; and many gipsies, less indolent than the indolent Spaniards, exercise in that country the trade of publicans. They follow willingly whatever occupations most men hate and condemn91. In Hungary and Transylvania, they are the flayers of dead horses, and executioners of criminals; the mass of the nation is composed of thieves and mendicants. The total number of these savages94 in Europe has never been considered less than 300,000; Grellman says 700,000; of these, 150,000 are in Turkey; 70,000 in Wallachia and Moldavia; 40,000 in Hungary and Transylvania; the rest are scattered95 through Russia, Prussia, Poland, Germany, Jutland, Spain, and other countries. Persia and Egypt are infested with them. They have appeared in Spanish America.
[171]
Who then are these people? Grellman and Buttner do not hesitate to pronounce them to be one of the low Indian castes, Soudras or Correvas, expelled from their country during one of its great revolutions, probably that of Tamerlane, about the year 1400. Their habits as tinkers, musicians, horse-dealers, etc. etc., already alluded to, are exactly in keeping with this supposition; but what is far stronger evidence is, that their language, formerly96 supposed to be the gibberish of thieves and pickpockets97, is really Indostanée. In the tents of these wanderers is spoken the dialects of the Vedas, the Puranas, the Brachmans, and the Budahs. This, in different tribes, is in some degree dashed with words of Sclavonic, Persic, Permiac, Finnic, Wogoul, and Hungarian. The structure of the auxiliary98 verb is the same as others in the Indo-Pelasgic tongues, but the pronouns have a remarkable99 analogy with the Persic, and the declension of nouns with the Turkish. Pallas infers from their dialect that their ancient country was Moultan, and their origin the same as that of the Hindu merchants at present at Astrakhan. Bartolomeo believes they come from Guzerat, perhaps from the neighbourhood of Tatta, where a horde100 of pirates called Tchinganes still reside. Lastly, Richardson boasts of having found them among the Bazigurs, a wandering tribe of minstrels and dancers. No caste, however, bears so strong a resemblance to them as that of the Soudras, who have no fixed66 abodes101, but live in tents, and sell baskets, mend kettles, and tell fortunes.
The names by which they have been, or are known in different countries are various. They call themselves Romi, Manusch, and Gadzi, each of these appellatives being connected with a different language—the Copt, the Sanscrit, and the Celtic. In Poland and Wallachia they are Zingani; in Italy and Hungary, Zingari; in Lithuania, Zigonas; Ziguene in Germany; Tchinganes in Turkey; the Atchinganes of the middle ages; in Spain they are Gitanos; in France, Bohemians, from their having passed out of Bohemia into that country. By the Persians they are called Sisech Hindou, or Black Indians. But the most ancient and general name is that of Sinte, or inhabitants of the banks of the Sinde, or Indus. The celebrated102 M. Hasse, has indeed proved that for the last 3000 years there have been in Europe wandering tribes bearing the name of Sigynes, or Sinte. He considers the modern gipsies as[172] the descendants of these ancient hordes103. Herodotus points out the Sigynes on the north side of the Ister. Strabo describes a people called Siginii, inhabiting the Hyrcanian mountains near the Caspian sea. Pliny speaks of the Caucasian Singi, and of the Indian Sing?. Hesychius reconciles the opinions of the ancients, and calls the Sinde an Indian people. They were noted for their cowardice104; for submitting to the lash105 of Scythian masters, the prostitution of their women, whose name became a term of reproach. Different branches of the same people were scattered through Macedonia, in which was a Sinti district, and in Lemnos, where the Sinties were the workmen of Vulcan.
It will now be sufficiently106 obvious to the reader what a singular, ancient, and mysterious people are these gipsies, that haunt our lanes and commons, and form so striking and poetical107 a feature in our country scenery. After all the zealous108 and learned researches into their history and origin, nothing appears yet established beyond the fact, that they are older than Herodotus, the most ancient of profane109 historians; that for more than 3000 years they have been wandering through the world as they do at present; and that their language exhibits incontestable evidence of an oriental origin. The ravages110 of Tamerlane may perhaps help to account for the circumstance of their pressing upon Western Europe in 1400 in such unusual numbers; but they were wanderers long before Tamerlane’s days. Were they enemies of Krishna? for they boast of having formerly rejected Christ. They pretend that they were once a happy people, under kings of their own; but their traditionary knowledge seems nearly extinct. Perhaps an increasing acquaintance with the East and Eastern literature may cast some light on the origin of this peculiar variety of the human race. In the mean time we may proceed to take a close view of them as they now appear in this kingdom. From the first moment of their attracting the public attention in this part of Europe, they have always exhibited the same artful character,—a character above the trammels of either superstition112 or religion. They have therefore adopted the most plausible113 pretences114 to effect their purposes; and for a long time triumphed over the credulity of the christian64 princes, at all times over that of the common people. Their first appearance in France, as related by Pasquin, is curious enough.[173] “On August 27th, 1427, came to Paris twelve penitents116, Penanciers, as they called themselves, viz.: a duke, an earl, and ten men, all on horseback, and calling themselves good christians. They were of Lower Egypt, and gave out, that not long before, the christians had subdued their country, and obliged them to embrace christianity on pain of death. Those who were baptized were great lords in their own country, and had a king and queen there. Soon after their conversion117, the Saracens overran the country, and obliged them to renounce118 christianity. When the emperor of Germany, the king of Poland, and the christian princes heard of this, they fell upon them, and obliged the whole of them, both great and small, to quit the country, and go to the Pope at Rome, who enjoined119 them seven years’ penance120, to wander over the world without lying in a bed.
“They had been wandering five years when they came to Paris. First the principal people, and soon after the commonalty, about 100 or 120—reduced, according to their account, from 1000 or 1200, when they went from home; the rest, with their king and queen, being dead. They were lodged121 by the police at some distance from the city, at Chapel123 St. Denis.
“Nearly all of them had their ears bored, and wore two silver rings in each, which they said were esteemed124 ornaments125 in their country. The men were black; their hair curled; the women, remarkably126 black; their only clothes a large old duffle garment, tied over their shoulders with a cloth or cord, and under it a miserable127 rocket. In fact, they were the most poor, miserable creatures that ever had been seen in France; and, notwithstanding their poverty, there were amongst them women who, by looking into people’s hands, told their fortunes, and what was worse, they picked people’s pockets of their money, and got it into their own, by telling these things through art magic, etc.”
The subtlety129 of these modern Gibeonites cannot be sufficiently admired. They did not venture to alarm the country by coming at once in full strength into it, but sent a detachment, mounted on horseback as princes, to pave the way by their tale of sufferings; then came a larger troop, in true Gibeonitish condition, to excite the popular commiseration130; and that being done, their numbers gradually increased; and under these and similar pretences, they[174] rambled131 over France for a whole century, when their real character being sufficiently obvious, and their numbers daily increasing, they were banished132 by proclamation. The same policy was pursued towards them in all the countries of Europe, if we except Hungary and Wallachia. In Spain, sentence of banishment133 being found ineffectual, in 1492 an edict of extermination134 was published; but they only slunk into the mountains and woods, and reappeared in a while as numerously as before. The order of banishment not succeeding in France, in 1561 all governors of cities were commanded to drive them away with fire and sword; and in 1612 a new order for their extermination came out. In 1572, they were expelled from the territories of Milan and Parma, as they had before been driven from the Venetian boundaries. In Denmark, Sweden, and the Netherlands, repeated enactments were made for their expulsion. In Germany, from 1500 to 1577, various similar decrees were promulgated135 against them. Under these laws they suffered incredible miseries136. They were imprisoned137; chased about like wild beasts, and put to death without mercy: but, as the European states did not act in concert, when they were driven from one they found an asylum138 in another; and whenever the storm blew over, they again gradually reappeared in their old haunts. The Empress Theresa, and afterwards the Emperor Joseph II., seem to have been the only sovereigns who set themselves in earnest to reclaim140 and civilize141 this singular people; and we have seen that in Hungary some of them are gradually submitting to the regulations made by these wise monarchs142.
Their introduction to this kingdom, and their after-treatment were similar. At first they were received as princes and kings, and excited commiseration by the tale of their injuries. They had royal and parliamentary passes granted them, to go through the country seeking relief, as many of the parish records yet bear testimony144. So late as 1647 there appears an entry in the constable’s accounts at Uttoxeter, in Staffordshire, of four shillings being given to forty-six Egyptians, travelling with a pass from parliament, to seek relief by the space of six months. But when this delusion145 was past, and it was seen that they had no intention of quitting the country, they became persecuted146 by justices of the peace and parish constables147, as thieves and vagrants; and the rapid enclosures of waste lands[175] during the war, tended greatly to break up their haunts, and put them into great straits.
About twenty years ago John Hoyland, a minister of the Society of Friends, being struck with commiseration for their condition, began to inquire into their real character; and the researches of Grellman being made known to him, he visited their encampments in various places in Northamptonshire, Hainault Forest, and Norwood, near London. He also sought them out in their winter quarters in London; and the result of his inquiries satisfied him that the English gipsies were a genuine portion of the great tribe described by Grellman; that they possessed148 the same oriental language, specimens149 of which he has given in his history. Mr. Hoyland could not ascertain150 what were the actual numbers of these people in England. They had been stated in parliament to be not less than 30,000, but on what authority did not appear; but it was very evident that enclosures, and the severity of the magistrates151, had reduced their numbers. Probably many of them had emigrated. Norwood used to be their great resort, but its enclosure had broken up that rendezvous152, yet it nevertheless appeared, that considerable numbers wintered in London, and at the earliest approach of spring set out on their summer progress through various parts of the country, especially in the counties of Surrey, Bedford, Buckingham, Hereford, Monmouth, Somerset, Wilts153, Southampton, Cambridge, and Huntingdon.
Subsequent inquiries have shewn that these people retire into other large towns in winter besides London, particularly Bristol. That in town their chief haunts are in Tottenham-court-road, Banbridge-street, Bolton-street, Church-lane, Battle-bridge, Tunbridge-street, Tothill-fields, and White-street. In Bristol, they are chiefly found in St. Philips, Newfoundland-street, Bedminster, and at the March and September fairs. About London, in April, May, and June, they get work in the market-gardens. In July and August they move into Sussex and Kent for harvest-work, where they continue. Through September, great numbers of them find employment in the hop154 districts of those counties, and of Surrey. They constantly encamp on the commons near London. On Wimbledon Common, at Christmas 1831, there were[176] no less than seventy of them. In the parks of Richmond, Greenwich, Windsor, and all the resorts of summer visitants from town, the gipsy women are to be found exercising their vocation155 of fortune-tellers. On this account many of them encamp about Blackheath, Woolwich-heath, Lordship-lane, near Deptford, and Plum-street, near Woolwich. The Archbishop’s Wall, near Canterbury; Staple156 and Wingham Well, near the same city, and Buckland, near Dover, and the New Forest, Hampshire, are great haunts; they also flock in great numbers to Ascot, Epsom, and other races.
Mr. Hoyland extended his researches to Scotland, and the most prompt assistance was offered him in his inquiries in that country. A circular was dispatched to the sheriff of every county, soliciting158, through the medium of an official organ, all the intelligence which could be obtained on the subject. It was found that there were very few gipsies in Scotland at all. From thirteen counties the reports were—“No gipsies resident in them.” From most others the answer was, that they appeared there only as occasional passengers. The Border appeared to be their chief resort, and respecting those Sir Walter Scott, then plain Walter Scott, addressed a very characteristic letter to the author. His account of them tallies159 exactly with that he has given in his celebrated novels. He and Mr. Smith, the Baillie of Kelso, agree in describing them as a single colony at Yetholm, and one family removed thence to Kelso. This colony appears to have acquired a character more daring and impetuous than the gipsies of England; in fact, to have exhibited the true old Border spirit: probably partly from example and partly from intercourse160 with some of the Border families. Mr. Baillie Smith gives the following instance of this spirit:—“Between Yetholm and the Border farms in Northumberland, there were formerly, as in most border situations, some uncultivated lands, called the Plea Lands, or Debateable Lands, the pasturage of which was generally eaten up by the sorners and vagabonds on both sides of the marches. Many years ago, Lord Tankerville and some other of the English borderers, made their request to Sir David Bennet and the late Mr. Wauchope, of Niddry, that they would accompany them at a riding of the Plea Lands, who readily complied with their request. They were induced to this, as they understood that the gipsies had taken[177] offence, on the supposition that they might be circumscribed161 in their pasture for their shelties, and asses143, which they had held a long time, partly by stealth and partly by violence. Both threats and entreaties162 were employed to keep them away; and at last Sir David obtained a promise from some of the heads of the gang, that none of them would shew their faces on the occasion.
“They, however, got upon the hills in the neighbourhood, whence they could see every thing that passed. At first they were very quiet, but when they saw the English Court-Book spread out on a cushion before the clerk, and apparently163 taken in a line of direction interfering164 with that which they considered to be their privileged ground, it was with great difficulty that the most moderate of them could restrain the rest from running down and taking vengeance165 even in sight of their own lord of the manor166. They only abstained167 for a short time, and no sooner had Sir David and the other gentlemen taken leave of each other in the most polite and friendly manner, as border chiefs are wont168 to do, since border feuds170 ceased, and had departed to a sufficient distance, than the clan171, armed with bludgeons and pitchforks, and such other hostile weapons as they could find, rushed down in a body, and before the chiefs on either side had reached their homes, there was neither English tenant172, horse, cow, or sheep, left upon the premises173.”
This account of their descent on the Plea Lands is like one of Sir Walter Scott’s own vivid sketches of border life; and the following anecdote174, also related by Mr. Baillie Smith, shews how truly they had imbibed175 the border spirit of clanship. “When I first knew any thing about the colony, old Will Faa was their king, or leader, and had held the sovereignty for many years. Meeting at Kelso with Mr. Walter Scott, whose discriminating176 habits and just observations I had occasion to know from his youth, and at the same time seeing one of my Yetholm friends in the horse-market, I merely said to Mr. Scott, ‘Try to get before that man with the long drab coat; look at him on your return, and tell me whether you ever saw him, and what you think of him.’ He was so good as to indulge me; and rejoining me said without hesitation177, ‘I never saw the man that I know of, but he is one of the gipsies of Yetholm that you told me of several years ago.’ I need scarcely say that he was perfectly178 right.
[178]
“The descendants of Faa, now take the name of Fall, from the Messrs. Fall of Dunbar, who, they pride themselves in saying, are of the same stock and lineage. When old Will Faa was upwards179 of eighty years of age, he called on me at Kelso, in his way to Edinburgh, telling me that he was going to see the laird, the late Mr. Nisbett of Dirleton, as he understood that he was very unwell, and himself now being old, and not so stout180 as he had been, he wished to see him once more before he died. The old man set out by the nearest road, which was by no means his common practice. Next market-day some of the farmers informed me that they had been in Edinburgh, and seen Will Faa upon the bridge (the south bridge was not built then), that he was tossing about his old brown hat, and huzzaing with great vociferation, that he had seen the laird before he died. Indeed Will himself had no time to lose, for having set his face homewards, by the way of the sea-coast, to vary his route, as is the general custom with the gang, he only got the length of Coldingham when he was taken ill and died.”
No one can fail to recognise in these border gipsies the Faas and Gordons of Guy Mannering, the desperate clan of Meg Merrilies and Derncleugh. Scott, indeed, informs us that his prototype of Meg Merrilies was Jean Gordon, an inhabitant of Kirk-Yetholm in the Cheviot hills, adjoining to the English border. The Faas, of which family her mother was, were the lineal descendants of John Faa, who styled himself Lord and King of Little Egypt, and with a numerous retinue181 entered Scotland, in the reign139 of Queen Mary.
The difference between the English and Scotch182 gipsies was singularly exemplified in Jean Gordon’s own family. The English gipsies have generally had the policy to commit no capital offences; but Jean’s sons were all hanged one day. Scott, in the eighth chapter of Guy Mannering, says, their mixture with the Border people gave them a peculiar ferocity, quite alien to their original character. “They understood all out-of-door sports, especially otter-hunting, fishing, and finding game. They had the best and boldest terriers, and sometimes had good pointers for sale. In winter the women told fortunes, the men shewed tricks of legerdemain183; and these accomplishments184 helped to wile185 away a weary or[179] stormy evening in the circle of the ‘farmer’s ha’.’ The wildness of their character, and the indomitable pride with which they despised all regular labour, commanded a certain awe186, which was not diminished by the consideration that these strollers were a vindictive187 race, and were restrained by no check either of fear or conscience, from taking desperate vengeance upon those who had offended them. These tribes were, in short, the Parias of Scotland, living like wild Indians among European settlements; and like them, judged of rather by their own customs, habits, and opinions, than as if they had been members of the civilized188 part of the community. Some hordes of them yet remain, chiefly in such situations as afford a ready escape into a waste country, or into another jurisdiction189. Nor are the features of their character much softened190. Their numbers are, however, so greatly diminished, that instead of one hundred thousand, as calculated by Fletcher of Saltoun, it would now perhaps be impossible to collect above five hundred throughout all Scotland.”
Since writing so far, I have visited Kirk-Yetholm, and can testify to the correctness of these details. It was in June, 1836, that I was at this remarkable haunt of this singular class of gipsies. The tribe was then, according to their regular custom, encamping, probably far off on the heaths of Scotland, or in the green lanes of England; and their houses, to the number of about a score, stood along one side of the village, all tenantless191, with closed shutters192, and doors barricadoed with boards, or locked or nailed up. We asked to whom they belonged, and were told that they were the Trayvelers, Anglice, Traveller’s houses. They had a strange look of desertion amid the peopled village. Along the lane side leading to the neighbouring hills extended a strip of land, divided into as many allotments as there were houses, in which were growing their crops of corn and potatoes, left till their return to providence193 and the forbearance of their neighbours; and we were assured that the tribe would not make their appearance here till the crops were ready to house, when they would come and get them in, and then away again till the setting in of winter. We found the feud169 between them and the shepherds still kept up as hotly as ever, and likely to continue so, from the peculiar location of the land above spoken of, on which they claim to pasture their[180] horses. About a mile from the village lies a region of pastoral hills, most beautiful in their greenness and loftiness. They are covered from vale to summit with the softest and finest turf, and their loftiest steeps are dotted with flocks. In the very midst of these hills, loftier and more naked than the rest, rises the one which the gipsies and other inhabitants of Yetholm claim. Nothing could be more ingeniously contrived194, if by contrivance it had been done, to effect a constant bickering196 between the shepherds and the Yetholmers. The gipsies of course drive their horses up to their own hill, and nothing is more natural than that seeing better pasture all around them, and no fence to prevent them, they should go down and enjoy it. It is equally natural that the shepherds should be on the look-out, and the moment they find the horses trespassing197, should drive them out into the lane leading to the village, and close the gates behind them. This also is expected by the gipsies, and the moment the horses make their appearance at the village, they are driven back again to the hills. Here is perpetual food for resentment198 and hostility199, and to such a height does it sometimes rise, that a gentleman of Kelso informed me that he has seen at Yetholm wool-fair such affrays between the gipsies and the shepherds as would outdo Donnybrook.
We found a Will Faa still the reputed king of the tribe. He was an old man, having none of the common features of the gipsy—his Border blood having done away with the black eyes and swarthy skin; but Will had all the propensities200 of the gipsy, except that of encamping; smuggling201, fishing, and shooting appeared to have been the business of his life. We were told that in an affray with the revenue officers he had defended a narrow bridge somewhere near Bamborough Castle, while his party made their escape, and had stood fighting singly with his cudgel, till it was cut down by the cutlasses of the officers to “twa nieves lang,” and till he finally got a cut across the arm which disabled him. When we asked him of the truth of this story, his grey eyes kindled202 up into a wild fire, and stretching out his two arms together, he shewed us, with a significant gesture, that one was still at least two inches longer than the other. Old Will Faa had risen into great importance through the writings of Sir Walter Scott. He told us that Sir Martin Archer203 Shee had been down to take his[181] likeness204. He was in daily request at the houses of the neighbouring nobility and gentry205 to catch trout206 for them, being intimately acquainted with all the streams of the country round, and all the arts of filling his creel out of them. Will, therefore, is sure to be found either by the side of one of the trout streams, or in the kitchen of some of the neighbouring halls, telling his exploits and drinking his toddy. His niece, who was absent with the tribe, was said to be the belle207 of the camp; a true gipsy beauty, dark and “weel fa’ured.”
Such is the present state of the gipsies of England and Scotland. Their numbers are evidently everywhere on the decrease; yet what do remain in England retain all their ancient characteristics. These characteristics have never been more accurately208 delineated than by Richard Howitt, in his poem of the “Gipsy King,” in the Metropolitan209 Magazine for June 1836. The groups proceeding210 to the coronation of their king are living.
Now come in groups the gipsy tribes,
From northern hills, from southern plains;
And many a panniered ass is swinging
The child that to itself is singing
Along the flowery lanes.
Where older tongues are gruff and tame;
Keen maiden laughter rings aloft,
Whilst many an undervoice is soft
In cloaks that flutter to the wind,
The king himself is distinguished218 by some touches that are the life itself, but which I never recollect219 seeing elsewhere introduced.
The slouching hat our hero wore,
The crown wherewith he king was crowned;
Wherein a pipe and a crow’s feather
Were stuck in fellowship together,
Was by a hundred winters browned.[182]
His sceptre was a stout oak sapling,
Round which a snake well-carved was wreathed;
Whilst from his frame, as from an oak,
“Deliberate valour breathed.”
His footstool was the solid earth;
His court spread out in pomp before him,
The heath arrayed in summer’s smiles;
Antique and flowing was his dress;
And from his temples, bold and bare,
Fell back in many a dusky tress,
As liberal as the wilderness224,
His ample growth of hair.
Where thought but feeling none was shewn;
Where underneath226 a flitting grace,
Was firmly built up in his face,
A hardness as of stone.
They are not to be confounded with a tribe of wandering potters, who live in tents like them. The true gipsies are readily distinguished by their invariable jet-black hair, black sparkling eyes, Indian complexions227, and their genuine oriental language. On the extensive heaths of Surrey, since my residence in that county, I have met with frequent camps of them. In the midland counties, although there is less waste land, they are not unfrequently to be seen. They are there chiefly the Lovell, Boswell, and Kemp gangs. They are great people still for kings and chiefs. Every district has its king. One of these died in the summer of 1835, in their camp in Bestwood Park, in Nottinghamshire; and thousands of people went to see him lie in state. They conveyed his body in a cart to Eastwood, a distance of nine miles, and would fain have stipulated228 with the clergyman for his interment in the church; not on account of any notion of the sanctity of the place, but for its security. This being refused, they chose a place in the churchyard, for which they paid a handsome sum, and ordered it to be fenced off with iron railings. An old beldame of the tribe said to me, that it was hard that he could not be buried in a church, as most of his ancestors had been before him.
[183]
This gang had no less than nine horses, which in the day time grazed in the bare lanes; but if they were not turned into the fields at night, they throve wonderfully on bad commons. The farmers complained dreadfully of their pulling up their hedges for fuel. The whole race seems to have no fear of man; they are troubled with no mauvaise honte. The men seldom condescend229 to solicit157 you, but the women are always anxious to lay hold of your money under pretence115 of telling your fortune; and the moment you approach their encampment, out comes a troop of little impudent230, though not insolent231, rogues232, to beg every thing and any thing they can. The women, many of them, in their youth, are fine strapping233 figures, with handsome brown faces and most brilliant and speaking eyes,—they have a peculiar poco-curante air and jaunty234 gait, and are extremely fond of finery. Their costume is unique, and pretty uniform,—scarlet cloaks, black beaver hats with broad slouching brims, or black velvet235 bonnets236 with large wide pokes238 trimmed with lace; a handkerchief thrown over the head under the bonnet237, and tied beneath the chin; long pendant ear-rings, black stockings, and ankle-boots. So far from shunning239 any intercourse or inquiries, they approach you with a ready smile and a style of flattery peculiar to them. “A good day to you, sir; your honour is born to fortune. I see that by the cast of your countenance240. It was a right luckly planet that shone on your honour’s birth!” If you know any thing of their language, they are only too glad to talk to you in it. Accost241 a gipsy with “Shaushan, Palla?” “how do you do, brother?” and you will see the effect.
This singular race of people, of whom Grellman calculates there are not less than 700,000 in Europe, seemed to demand a more comprehensive account in the Rural Life of England, than has hitherto been given in any one work. Many of my readers, I am persuaded, will regard them for their antiquity242, the mystery of their origin, the strangeness of their history and life, with deeper feelings than they have hitherto done; and it may be well for such as live in those parts of the country which the gipsies haunt, to ask themselves whether something may not be done by education, and other means, to reclaim those wild denizens243 of heaths and lanes, or to give them some greater portion of the knowledge and benefits of[184] civilized life. A considerable number have sent their children to schools during the winters in London; and these children, though compared by one of their schoolmasters, at their first entrance, to wild birds suddenly put into a cage, and ready to beat themselves against the bars, having no sense of restraint, soon became not only perfectly orderly, amongst the very first for quickness and avidity in learning, but expressed the utmost regret when obliged to leave at spring. I once saw a woman in a gipsy tent, reading the Bible to a circle of nine children, all her own! and though, on coming near, her blue eyes and light hair shewed her to be an English woman, the daughter, as I found, of a gamekeeper, who had married one of the Boswell gang, yet the interest which the children took in her reading of the Bible, and the interest which she assured me the whole camp took in it, were sufficient evidence that it is only for want of being taught that they still remain in ignorance of the best knowledge. They have been so long treated with contempt and severity, that they naturally look on all men as their enemies. For my part, when I see a horde of them coming on some solitary244 way, with their dark Indian faces, their scarlet-cloaked women, their troops of little vivacious245 savages, their asses and horses laden246 with beds and tents, and, trudging247 after them, their guardian248 dogs,—I cannot help looking on them as an Eastern tribe, as fugitives249 of a most ancient family, as a living enigma250 in human history—and feeling that, with all their Arab-like propensities, they have great claims on our sympathies, and on the splendid privileges of a christian land.
GIPSIES OF NEW FOREST.
Since the former edition went to press, I have learned that the New Forest has long been a great haunt of gipsies, particularly of one remarkable family—the Stanleys. I hear with pleasure that the Home Missionary251 Society has likewise taken up the cause of the gipsies in various parts of the country with a good deal of spirit, and a volume has been put into my hands, entitled “The Gipsies’ Advocate.” This is edited by the Rev2. James Crabbe, a worthy252 dissenting253 minister of Southampton, and has run into a third edition. Mr. Crabbe seems a most earnest and indefatigable254 apostle of this neglected people. Hoyland’s “Survey of the Gipsies,[185]” together with some painfully interesting circumstances connected with the execution of one of them, turned his attention to their case so early as 1827. He soon fell in with one of the New Forest clan, William Stanley, who, having in his youth been a soldier, had become acquainted with the Bible through attending church, and eventually became so anxious to christianize his gipsy kinsmen255, that he went to travel about amongst them, reading the Bible in their tents. Mr. Crabbe soon formed a committee in Southampton for the reclamation256 of the gipsies, visiting them in their camps, and persuading them to allow their children to be put to school, and to learn trades. He visited the camps in various places, and sought them out, and preached to them at Epsom Races, and in the hop-grounds at Farnham. Stanley served as his messenger and assistant. The committee seems to have met with great success. At the date of the edition which I quote, 1832, there were twenty-three reformed gipsies living in Southampton, and upwards of forty attending divine service there. The gipsies in almost all instances had evinced the most lively sense of the attention shewn them, and a desire to avail themselves of the privileges of learning to read and of hearing preaching. This little volume contains also some interesting accounts of the attempts to civilize the gipsies in Russia and Germany, and particularly of the zealous endeavours of the Countess von Reden of Buchwald in Silesia.
But from the gipsies of the continent we must return to those of the New Forest of England; of whom Miss Bowles, now Mrs. Southey, was kind enough to send me the following curious particulars:—
“The gipsies who mostly frequent this neighbourhood,—or did frequent it, for their visits are now ‘few and far between,’—are Lees and Stanleys; I should have said Stanleys and Lees—for the former tribe hold up their heads very high above the Lees, and call themselves ‘the better sort of travellers.’ Some years ago a party of these Stanleys came from a distant part of the country to attend a wedding at Newport, in the Isle221 of Wight. They stopped at the turnpike-gate near my house, being on friendly terms with the tollman and his family, who had often done them kind offices, and to the daughter who is now in my service (1838) they entrusted257 the important office of making up grey silk spencers and smart[186] flowered chintz petticoats for each of the women; encamping in the neighbourhood while the work was in hand, and ‘very particular’ the ladies were about ‘good fits,’ etc. Then they went to the best hatters in the town, and ordered hats on purpose for them—of the long felt, wide-brimmed sort for the women. The tradesmen hesitated about giving credit, as they required, till their return from the island, at which they were highly indignant. ‘What!’ stormed one, whom they called Brother John—‘What! refuse credit to a gentleman ratcatcher!’ But they obtained it, and paid honourably258 on their return, and as honestly remunerated the sempstress for making their gay dresses.
“This same party often camped at a spot in the forest called Marl-pit Oak—and nearer to my residence on a hill near the road, called Gally Hill, and were not ill thought of by the farmers and poor people, and one or two forest girls would sometimes steal to their tents, sure of a savoury regale259. The wonder is, how they lived so well—for their kettles were not filled with the produce of poaching or of thefts in the hen-roost—still less with meat ‘that had died of its own accord,’ as the people say. No; they used frequently to go back from the town laden with good joints260 honestly purchased and paid for at the butchers.
“On one occasion, a day or two before Easter Sunday, Brother John and two of the ladies of the tribe displayed their marketing261 to my neighbours at the turnpike-gate—a fine breast, loin, and leg of veal262. ‘To-morrow’s Easter Sunday;’ said they, ‘and we always have a feast of veal on that day.’ (Singular! is it not?) ‘How can you contrive195 to roast it at your fires?’ inquired the woman who is now my servant. ‘Better a deal than you can at your poor pinched in grates,’ was the answer; ‘and then we shall have rice-puddings, capital rice-puddings.’ ‘But you can’t bake, if you can roast?’ ‘Can’t we? come and taste if you ever knowed better baking in your life.’ (I should have accepted the invitation if it had been made to me). And then they described their culinary process. Having mixed their ingredients—all of the best—in a large brown pan of that sort of ware which is fireproof, they covered it with another of the same sort, set it deep in a bed of glowing peat-ashes, and heaped it over to a foot depth with the same. I have no doubt of the excellency of the method,—not[187] very unlike that in use by many of the savage93 tribes. There were seven daughters of this particular family of the Stanleys, all splendid beauties;—one but too celebrated, ‘the beautiful Caroline Stanley.’ She fell into worse company than that of her own people, and on two or three occasions was absent from them for a year and more at a time, living in splendour as ‘maitresse en titre,’ to more than one officer of high rank; dashed about in elegant carriages, clothed in ‘silken sheen,’ and all sorts of bravery, and carried it with a high hand (poor Caroline!) through her seasons of ‘bad eminence.’ But all the while she was out of her element; the free creature of the woods pined to be there again; and some fine morning she would be off without leave taking, and leaving behind her every atom of the dear-bought finery, that had become fetters263 to her. I knew her well by sight, and such a Cleopatra of regal beauty I never could have imaged to myself.
“A short time before her first initiation264 in civilization and corruption265, I saw her showing off in high style. I called to give some order to my milliner, but sat quietly down to await her leisure, finding her engaged in high disputation with the gipsy beauty, who was rating her in no measured terms for some deviation266 from orders in the making of a bonnet which Caroline was in the act of trying on before the glass. And such airs and graces she gave herself! I never was more diverted.
“‘Woman!’ she called the poor milliner, at every sentence. ‘Did you think, because I’m a gipsy, I’d wear such a thing as this,’ said she, and dashed off the bonnet—an expensive one of black velvet, with a deep lace flounce—to the farther end of the room. When I last heard of her, a few years back, she was wandering—withered and haggard—with her diminished tribe. It has been much diminished of late years by the conviction and transportation of many of the men for horse-stealing; of their proficiency267 in which I have had sad experience. Some years ago, I lost a very beautiful and favourite pony268, at the same time that a rather valuable mare269 was stolen from a neighbour of mine (a farrier), and a young galloway from another man, named Edward Pierce. Having done every thing in our power to regain270 our lost steeds, we at last gave up the pursuit as useless.
“Nearly two years afterwards, my neighbour, the farrier, came[188] to ask me if I would join him and Pierce in some further endeavours to recover the stolen horses, which we had a fair chance of doing, he thought, according to the letter he presented for my perusal271, a curious one it was, dated, ‘The Hulks, Portsmouth.’ The writer (one of the Stanleys) stated, that having been condemned272 to seven years’ transportation, for a recent offence, he wished to stock himself with a few comforts for his voyage, and, therefore, if we, the losers of such and such horses, stolen at such a time, would make it ‘worth his while,’ he would put us in a way to have them back again. He began his letter (it was addressed to Pierce), ‘Dear friend,’ and said at the conclusion, that not liking273 to go by his own name in such a place, and in his present circumstances, he had taken the liberty to use his, and begged to be addressed as Edward Pierce. One of the girl Stanleys married a Blake, and prosperous vagabonds they were,—kept a chaise-cart, and a fine horse, with expensive plated harness. On the occasion of the christening of their first child, which took place at Beaulieu, they invited all the farmers and respectable country folk for miles round to a feast on the heath, and a sumptuous274 feast it was, and every thing ‘done decently and in order.’ Abundance of good things, eatables and drinkables.
“The tables, borrowed for the occasion, almost elegantly spread. Liquor in abundance, good ale and strong, but no abuse of it. Fiddling275 and dancing afterwards till the long summer day closed in, and then the wild hosts and their civilized guests parted with mutual276 good-will; the most respectable of the latter (good substantial farmers, their wives and families) protesting they had never been so well treated, or in company more decently conducted.
“Mr. Crabbe alludes277 at p. 29 of the ‘Gipsies’ Advocate,’ to a circumstance connected with gipsy burials, as having occurred in the neighbouring county of Wilts. I suspect it to be the same which was related to me two years ago, by the vicar of a parish in the New Forest, who had it from his intimate friend the curate of a Wiltshire parish, the name of which I forget. A small party of gipsies had remained stationary278 in the neighbourhood for an unusual length of time, detained by the illness of one of them, a very young woman and beautiful—lately married to a man as comely279 as herself. ‘One of the finest young men,’ the curate said,[189] ‘he ever set eyes on.’ The woman died, and soon after the husband came, almost in a state of distraction280, to apply for leave to bury her in the church. The permission could not be granted, though the man pleaded with passionate87 earnestness, saying, any required sum, however large, should be forthcoming, might he but lay her in the church. Finding that to be impossible, he bought a piece of ground in the churchyard, made a deep vault281, where she was interred282, and over it caused a monument to be erected283, which was not only costly284 but in good taste, as was the simple record inscribed285 on it. This occurred several years ago, and not once has he omitted an annual visit to the grave since the day of his wife’s interment.
“The magistrates, country gentlemen, and farmers, in the neighbourhood of Mr. Crabbe’s gipsy colony, complain bitterly of the effects of his benevolent286 scheme—affirming that it subjects them to the perpetual depredations287 of swarms288 of vagrants of all sorts, and that the good man himself is the dupe of nine-tenths of these persons, who allow him for a time to reckon them among his reformed gipsies. Be it as it may that this well meaning man is or is not imposed on, certain it is, that as a nation we are chargeable with culpable289 neglect towards these wild denizens. We ‘compass sea and land to make one proselyte,’ and at home, we suffer fellow beings to live and die among us, as unheeded and uncared for (far more so) as ‘the beasts that perish.’”
We may illustrate290 this just remark of Mrs. Southey’s, and at the same time, the occasional scenes of wild life in England, by quoting from Mr. Crabbe’s volume the following extraordinary anecdote.
“George III. being out one day hunting, the chase lay through the skirts of the forest. The stag had been hard run, and to escape the dogs, had crossed the river in a deep part. The dogs could not be brought to follow; and it became necessary, in order to come up with it, to make a circuitous291 route along the banks of the river, through some thick and troublesome underwood. The roughness of the ground, the long grass, and frequent thickets292, obliged the sportsmen to separate from each other; each one endeavouring to make the best and speediest route he could. Before they had reached the end of the forest, the king’s horse manifested[190] signs of fatigue293 and uneasiness, so much so, that his Majesty resolved upon yielding the pleasures of the chase to those of compassion294 for his horse. With this view he turned down the first avenue of the forest, and determined295 on riding quietly to the oaks, there to wait for some of his attendants. The king had only proceeded a few yards, when, instead of the cry of the hounds he fancied he heard the cry of human distress296. As he rode forward, he heard it more distinctly:—‘Oh, my mother! my mother! God pity and bless my poor mother!’ The curiosity and kindness of the sovereign led him instantly to the spot. It was a little green plot on one side of the forest, where was spread on the grass, under a branching oak, a little pallet, half covered with a kind of tent; and a basket or two with some packs, lay on the ground at a few paces distant from the tent. Near to the root of the tree he observed a little swarthy girl about eight years of age, on her knees praying, while her little black eyes ran down with tears. Distress of any kind was always relieved by his Majesty, for he had a heart which melted at human woe297. ‘What my child, is the cause of your weeping?’ he asked, ‘For what do you pray?’ The little creature at first started, then rose from her knees; and pointing to the tent, said,—‘Oh sir, my dying mother!’ ‘What?’ said his Majesty, dismounting, and fastening his horse up to the branches of the oak, ‘what, my child? tell me all about it.’ The little creature now led the king to the tent; where lay, partly covered, a middle-aged298 female gipsy in the last stages of a decline, and in the last moments of life. She turned her dying eyes expressively299 to the royal visiter, then looked up to heaven, but not a word did she utter; the organs of speech had ceased their office; the silver cord was loosed, and the wheel broken at the cistern300. The little girl then wept aloud, and stooping down, wiped the dying sweat from her mother’s face. The king, much affected301, asked the child her name, and of her family, and how long her mother had been ill. Just at that moment another gipsy girl, much older, came out of breath to the spot. She had been to the town of W———, and brought some medicine for her dying mother. Observing a stranger, she curtsied modestly, and hastening to her mother, knelt down by her side, kissed her pallid302 lips, and burst into tears. ‘What, my dear child,’ said his Majesty,[191] ‘can be done for you?’ ‘O sir,’ she replied, ‘my dying mother wanted a religious person to teach her, and to pray with her before she died. I ran all the way before it was light this morning to W———, and asked for a minister, but no one could I get to come with me to pray with my dear mother!’ The dying woman seemed sensible of what her daughter was saying, and her countenance was much agitated303. The air was again rent with the cries of the distressed304 daughters. The king, full of kindness, instantly endeavoured to comfort them. He said, ‘I am a minister, and God has sent me to instruct and comfort your mother.’ He then sate305 down on a pack by the side of the pallet, and taking the hand of the dying gipsy, discoursed306 on the demerit of sin, and the nature of redemption. He then pointed307 her to Christ, the all-sufficient Saviour308. While doing this, the poor creature seemed to gather consolation309 and hope: her eyes sparkled with brightness, and her countenance became animated310. She looked up—she smiled; but it was the last smile; it was the glimmering311 of expiring nature. As the expression of peace, however, remained strong in her countenance, it was not till some time had elapsed, that they perceived the struggling spirit had left mortality.
“It was at this moment that some of his Majesty’s attendants, who had missed him at the chase, and had been riding through the forest in search of him, rode up, and found him comforting the afflicted312 gipsies. It was an affecting sight, and worthy of everlasting71 record in the annals of kings.
“He now rose up, put some gold into the hands of the afflicted girls, promised them his protection, and bade them look to heaven. He then wiped the tears from his eyes, and mounted his horse. His attendants, greatly affected, stood in silent admiration313. Lord L——— was going to speak, but his Majesty, turning to the gipsies, and pointing to the breathless corpse314, and to the weeping girls, said, with strong emotion,—‘Who, my lord, who, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto these?’”
GIPSIES OF FASHION.
An incident which occurred to me in the summer of 1837, shewed me most strikingly how next to impossible it is for the[192] peculiar manner and costume of the English gipsies to be personated. In an evening drive on the 27th of July, with a young friend staying with us, as we passed through, or by, the little rustic315 hamlet of Stoke D’Abernon, for it consists of houses scattered along one side of the road, I was struck with two singular female figures at a little distance before us. They were both young—the one about the middle size, the other rather taller. The taller one was dressed in a dark cotton bedgown, dark petticoat, grey stockings, and shoes; on her head was tied a yellow silk handkerchief, and in her hand she held, as a walking-staff, a long stout hazel wand, recently cut from the hedge. The other had on also a short bedgown, but of a pink colour, striped and figured with white, a dark petticoat, and ankle-boots. On her head she wore an old straw bonnet. As my eye caught them at a distance,—the one standing128 with her tall stick by a pool on one side of the way, the other in the act of begging from, or addressing, a gentleman who was sitting on a stile, I could not help exclaiming,—“What have we got here!—Maria de Moulins and Madge Wildfire?” As we drew near, they came running up to us, and, one on each side of the pony-chaise, began begging most importunately316: “Will you give us sixpence? Do give us sixpence! Do, dear gentleman, give us sixpence! Dear lady, do tell the gentleman to give us sixpence!” It was only necessary to give a slight glance at the faces of these beggars, and to hear one tone of their voices, to know that it was a frolic—that they were ladies of education and family, from some of the neighbouring country houses, thus dressed up. They had hair and eyes jet black as any gipsies; and after all that has been said of the beauty of some of the gipsy women—and they have a great deal—were handsomer than any gipsies I ever saw. The taller, who appeared the younger of the two, was a very lovely woman, of a slender figure, the exquisite symmetry of which was not to be disguised by the rustic dress she had assumed. The other had, or affected, a slight lisp. Irresistible318 as such beggars might appear, I resolved to refuse them, in order to see how they would keep up the attempt, and how they would take a refusal. I therefore said, laughing, “O! I have no sixpences for beggars like you; you certainly are very charming beggars; you have chosen a very rustic costume; you act your part very well indeed, and I[193] hope you will enjoy your frolic.” All this time I kept driving on at a good pace; but the resolute319 damsels still ran on, importuning320 for a sixpence. One soon dropped behind—the taller one still ran on with her stick in her hand, in a voice of much softness and sweetness still begging for sixpence—as they were poor strangers, and had got nothing all day! As she ran, this sort of badinage321 passed:—“Where do you come from?” “O, we have come all the way from Epsom to meet our young man here, and he has deceived us.”—“Well, I hope no young man will deceive you more cruelly.” “Dear gentleman, if you won’t give us sixpence, give us a penny then to buy us a glass of ale!” “O, you are no ale drinkers—what should you think of a glass of gin?” “I should like something, for I am very tired: and what is sixpence to you?—you have a very good horse in your chaise; I have no doubt you are a gentleman of independent fortune—do give us sixpence!” “No, I wish I were half as rich as you are.” Here the Queen of Love and Beauty stopped, and turned round with an air of very beautiful disdain322. As she went back to join her companion, we were again struck with the grace of her form, and the buoyancy of her carriage.
My impression was that these ladies were merely acting111 beggars; but we soon found that they were acting gipsies; for they offered to tell almost every body’s fortunes, and actually did tell some. As we returned, we met them coming up a hollow woody lane, near Bookham Common, about a mile from where we left them; and behold! they and the gentleman who was there sitting on the stile—a military-looking man with light mustachios—were walking familiarly on together. It was evident that they had found “their young man!” It was a group worthy of the pencil of Stothard; and on the opposite side of the lane, from a cottage above it, out were come a countrywoman, and six or seven children, of different ages, in their rustic costume, and stood to look at them—a little picture after the very heart of Collins. The moment our actresses saw us, they motioned their escort to move off to the other side of the way, and to walk on, as though he did not belong to them, and again renewed their importunity323 as we passed. I merely smiled, and moved my hat to them. As we proceeded, I stopped and asked of all the country people I met—who was that[194] gentleman? and who the ladies dressed as beggars? The miller324 thought the gentleman was from Bookham Lodge122, the seat of Captain Blackwood—he heard a large party of gentry was just come there; “but the women, sir, they are Dutch women!” Dutch women! Broom-girls, in fact! Broom-girls, with legs and arms like young elephants! and broad solid figures, as if cut out of blocks of wood—how very like those slim and elegant creatures! But it was enough for the worthy miller, whose fortune they had offered to tell, that they had on short bedgowns and dark petticoats. A grocer from Epsom, with his spring-cart, going as they do all round the country, from one gentleman’s house to another, had had his fortune told by them, and was lost in amaze at the announcement that he had had nine children, six of whom were still living—five girls and one boy; the very facts to a hair! A farmer and his wife at Stoke, never dreamt that the gentleman whom they had noticed belonged to these “young baggages of beggars,” that had been sitting on the bank by the road-side opposite their house; but his wife said one of them was the handsomest beggar she ever saw. “Ay, they were both good-looking,” said the man, “and had famous things on.” The groom325 at the parsonage-gate “didn’t know the gentleman in the mustachios; but the women, bless you, they were no ladies.” “Why?” “O, they carried it on too far for ladies here, I assure you.” “What did they do?” “O! they came ringing at the bell like new ’uns; six or seven times they called us out—they would take no nay326.”
Little did these fair ladies, when sallying out for this frolic in the sylvan92 lanes of Surrey, dream, I dare say, that they should meet “a chiel takin’ notes,” that would put their exploits into print. Here they are, however; and if they should chance to see this, I must tell them, that they were very sweet nondescripts, but not very perfect beggars; and far, far indeed, from perfect Zinganies. For Madge Wildfires, they were not amiss; but beggars, impudent as they are, seldom ask for sixpences; seldom appear in new apparel; never run by the side of carriages—that is left to beggar children. Pleading looks, and a pitiful whining327 tone, with low genuflections, mark the young beggar-woman, as she stands fixed at one place;—her husband is dead, and she is going home to her parents or parish; or he is gone for a soldier, and she is[195] following to the garrison328. Lancashire witches they would have done for capitally—but then witches don’t tell fortunes by palmistry; their vocation is by spell and cauldron; and as for gipsies, why it is just as difficult to mistake the particular expression and cultivated voice of an English lady, as it is the features and voice of the real gipsy-woman. Black eyes and black hair these ladies had; but they had neither the olive skin, nor the bold, easy degagée air of the gipsy belle; and what do gipsies with such beautifully slender and delicate hands? They were importunate317; but nothing but a life and an education in the gipsy-camp, and perhaps the blood and descent of the gipsy, can give the peculiar style of palaver—the suaviter in modo—the unique flattery—the “you are born fortunate, sir”—with which the gipsy accosts329 you. And the costume! The gipsy wears nothing short. She has a long gown,—a long red cloak—a handkerchief tied over her head, it is true, but upon it a large flapping bonnet with lace trimming, or black beaver hat;—instead of that fairy form, she is generally strapping, tall, and strong—and instead of those taper330 ankles and small feet, which could evidently dance down the four-and-twenty hours, she has her lower limbs arrayed in black stockings and stout shoes that would do for a wagoner. Young gipsy women walk with sticks! how rarely do you see an old one with one? Knowing now who these ladies were, I should, beforehand, have expected a closer personation of the gipsy; but the result only proves the difficulty of the attempt. It must, however be confessed, that this was as pretty a little rural adventure as one could desire to meet with.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
jovial
|
|
| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
rev
|
|
| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
spacious
|
|
| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
defective
|
|
| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
larcenies
|
|
| n.盗窃（罪）( larceny的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
9
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
majesty
|
|
| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
revert
|
|
| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
vagrants
|
|
| 流浪者( vagrant的名词复数 )； 无业游民； 乞丐； 无赖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
poultry
|
|
| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
mischiefs
|
|
| 损害( mischief的名词复数 )； 危害； 胡闹； 调皮捣蛋的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
linen
|
|
| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
hog
|
|
| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
prosecutes
|
|
| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的第三人称单数 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
agog
|
|
| adj.兴奋的，有强烈兴趣的； adv.渴望地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
seduced
|
|
| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
bestow
|
|
| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
plentifully
|
|
| adv. 许多地，丰饶地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
jades
|
|
| n.玉，翡翠（jade的复数形式）v.（使）疲（jade的第三人称单数形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
knight
|
|
| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
diligently
|
|
| ad.industriously;carefully | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
crumpled
|
|
| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
displeased
|
|
| a.不快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
uncouth
|
|
| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
oracle
|
|
| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
attentive
|
|
| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
foretold
|
|
| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
jocund
|
|
| adj.快乐的，高兴的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
conjuror
|
|
| n.魔术师，变戏法者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
dexterous
|
|
| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
graphic
|
|
| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
sketches
|
|
| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
alluded
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
inquisitive
|
|
| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
poetic
|
|
| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
hereditary
|
|
| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
infested
|
|
| adj.为患的，大批滋生的（常与with搭配）v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的过去式和过去分词 )；遍布于 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
speculations
|
|
| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
brook
|
|
| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
mimic
|
|
| v.模仿，戏弄；n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
glade
|
|
| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
pestering
|
|
| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
espy
|
|
| v.（从远处等）突然看到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
maiden
|
|
| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
glossy
|
|
| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
scathed
|
|
| v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
freckled
|
|
| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
behold
|
|
| v.看，注视，看到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
tint
|
|
| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
sages
|
|
| n.圣人( sage的名词复数 )；智者；哲人；鼠尾草（可用作调料） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
Christian
|
|
| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
Christians
|
|
| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
temperate
|
|
| adj.温和的，温带的，自我克制的，不过分的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
latitudes
|
|
| 纬度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
dwellers
|
|
| n.居民，居住者( dweller的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
everlastingly
|
|
| 永久地，持久地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
isolated
|
|
| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
dominion
|
|
| n.统治，管辖，支配权；领土，版图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
conqueror
|
|
| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
posterity
|
|
| n.后裔，子孙，后代 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
perseverance
|
|
| n.坚持不懈，不屈不挠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
adoption
|
|
| n.采用，采纳，通过；收养 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
zeal
|
|
| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
ware
|
|
| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
enactments
|
|
| n.演出( enactment的名词复数 )；展现；规定；通过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
abhor
|
|
| v.憎恶；痛恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
witchcraft
|
|
| n.魔法，巫术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
lawful
|
|
| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
impunity
|
|
| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
passionate
|
|
| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
attained
|
|
| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
eminence
|
|
| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
choirs
|
|
| n.教堂的唱诗班( choir的名词复数 )；唱诗队；公开表演的合唱团；（教堂）唱经楼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
condemn
|
|
| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
sylvan
|
|
| adj.森林的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
savage
|
|
| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
savages
|
|
| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
pickpockets
|
|
| n.扒手( pickpocket的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
auxiliary
|
|
| adj.辅助的，备用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
horde
|
|
| n.群众，一大群 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
abodes
|
|
| 住所( abode的名词复数 )； 公寓； （在某地的）暂住； 逗留 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
hordes
|
|
| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
cowardice
|
|
| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
lash
|
|
| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
sufficiently
|
|
| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
poetical
|
|
| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
zealous
|
|
| adj.狂热的，热心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
profane
|
|
| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
ravages
|
|
| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
superstition
|
|
| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
plausible
|
|
| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
pretences
|
|
| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
penitents
|
|
| n.后悔者( penitent的名词复数 )；忏悔者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
117
conversion
|
|
| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
renounce
|
|
| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
enjoined
|
|
| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
penance
|
|
| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
lodged
|
|
| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
lodge
|
|
| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
chapel
|
|
| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
esteemed
|
|
| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
ornaments
|
|
| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
subtlety
|
|
| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
commiseration
|
|
| n.怜悯，同情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
rambled
|
|
| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
banishment
|
|
| n.放逐，驱逐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
extermination
|
|
| n.消灭，根绝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
promulgated
|
|
| v.宣扬（某事物）( promulgate的过去式和过去分词 )；传播；公布；颁布（法令、新法律等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
miseries
|
|
| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
reign
|
|
| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
reclaim
|
|
| v.要求归还，收回；开垦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
civilize
|
|
| vt.使文明，使开化 (=civilise) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
monarchs
|
|
| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
asses
|
|
| n. 驴，愚蠢的人，臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
testimony
|
|
| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
delusion
|
|
| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
persecuted
|
|
| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
constables
|
|
| n.警察( constable的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
possessed
|
|
| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
specimens
|
|
| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
150
ascertain
|
|
| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
151
magistrates
|
|
| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
152
rendezvous
|
|
| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
153
wilts
|
|
| （使）凋谢，枯萎( wilt的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
154
hop
|
|
| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
155
vocation
|
|
| n.职业，行业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
156
staple
|
|
| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
157
solicit
|
|
| vi.勾引；乞求；vt.请求，乞求；招揽(生意) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
158
soliciting
|
|
| v.恳求( solicit的现在分词 )；（指娼妇）拉客；索求；征求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
159
tallies
|
|
| n.账( tally的名词复数 )；符合；（计数的）签；标签v.计算，清点( tally的第三人称单数 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
160
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
161
circumscribed
|
|
| adj.[医]局限的：受限制或限于有限空间的v.在…周围划线( circumscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；划定…范围；限制；限定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
162
entreaties
|
|
| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
163
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
164
interfering
|
|
| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
165
vengeance
|
|
| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
166
manor
|
|
| n.庄园，领地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
167
abstained
|
|
| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
168
wont
|
|
| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
169
feud
|
|
| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
170
feuds
|
|
| n.长期不和，世仇( feud的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
171
clan
|
|
| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
172
tenant
|
|
| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
173
premises
|
|
| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
174
anecdote
|
|
| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
175
imbibed
|
|
| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
176
discriminating
|
|
| a.有辨别能力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
177
hesitation
|
|
| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
178
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
179
upwards
|
|
| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
181
retinue
|
|
| n.侍从；随员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
182
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
183
legerdemain
|
|
| n.戏法，诈术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
184
accomplishments
|
|
| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
185
wile
|
|
| v.诡计，引诱；n.欺骗，欺诈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
186
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
187
vindictive
|
|
| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
188
civilized
|
|
| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
189
jurisdiction
|
|
| n.司法权，审判权，管辖权，控制权 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
190
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
191
tenantless
|
|
| adj.无人租赁的，无人居住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
192
shutters
|
|
| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
193
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
194
contrived
|
|
| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
195
contrive
|
|
| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
196
bickering
|
|
| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
197
trespassing
|
|
| [法]非法入侵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
198
resentment
|
|
| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
199
hostility
|
|
| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
200
propensities
|
|
| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
201
smuggling
|
|
| n.走私 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
202
kindled
|
|
| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
203
archer
|
|
| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
204
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
205
gentry
|
|
| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
206
trout
|
|
| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
207
belle
|
|
| n.靓女 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
208
accurately
|
|
| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
209
metropolitan
|
|
| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
210
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
211
wrangling
|
|
| v.争吵，争论，口角( wrangle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
212
dame
|
|
| n.女士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
213
beaver
|
|
| n.海狸，河狸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
214
plume
|
|
| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
215
brats
|
|
| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
216
slung
|
|
| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
217
scarlet
|
|
| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
218
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
219
recollect
|
|
| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
220
bespoke
|
|
| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
221
isle
|
|
| n.小岛，岛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
222
isles
|
|
| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
223
dome
|
|
| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
224
wilderness
|
|
| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
225
hardy
|
|
| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
226
underneath
|
|
| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
227
complexions
|
|
| 肤色( complexion的名词复数 )； 面色； 局面； 性质 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
228
stipulated
|
|
| vt.& vi.规定；约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
229
condescend
|
|
| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
230
impudent
|
|
| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
231
insolent
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
232
rogues
|
|
| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
233
strapping
|
|
| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
234
jaunty
|
|
| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
235
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
236
bonnets
|
|
| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
237
bonnet
|
|
| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
238
pokes
|
|
| v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
239
shunning
|
|
| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
240
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
241
accost
|
|
| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
242
antiquity
|
|
| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
243
denizens
|
|
| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
244
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
245
vivacious
|
|
| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
246
laden
|
|
| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
247
trudging
|
|
| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
248
guardian
|
|
| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
249
fugitives
|
|
| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
250
enigma
|
|
| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
251
missionary
|
|
| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
252
worthy
|
|
| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
253
dissenting
|
|
| adj.不同意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
254
indefatigable
|
|
| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
255
kinsmen
|
|
| n.家属，亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
256
reclamation
|
|
| n.开垦；改造；（废料等的）回收 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
257
entrusted
|
|
| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
258
honourably
|
|
| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
259
regale
|
|
| v.取悦，款待 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
260
joints
|
|
| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
261
marketing
|
|
| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
262
veal
|
|
| n.小牛肉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
263
fetters
|
|
| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
264
initiation
|
|
| n.开始 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
265
corruption
|
|
| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
266
deviation
|
|
| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
267
proficiency
|
|
| n.精通，熟练，精练 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
268
pony
|
|
| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
269
mare
|
|
| n.母马，母驴 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
270
regain
|
|
| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
271
perusal
|
|
| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
272
condemned
|
|
| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
273
liking
|
|
| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
274
sumptuous
|
|
| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
275
fiddling
|
|
| 微小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
276
mutual
|
|
| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
277
alludes
|
|
| 提及，暗指( allude的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
278
stationary
|
|
| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
279
comely
|
|
| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
280
distraction
|
|
| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
281
vault
|
|
| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
282
interred
|
|
| v.埋，葬( inter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
283
ERECTED
|
|
| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
284
costly
|
|
| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
285
inscribed
|
|
| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
286
benevolent
|
|
| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
287
depredations
|
|
| n.劫掠，毁坏( depredation的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
288
swarms
|
|
| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
289
culpable
|
|
| adj.有罪的，该受谴责的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
290
illustrate
|
|
| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
291
circuitous
|
|
| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
292
thickets
|
|
| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
293
fatigue
|
|
| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
294
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
295
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
296
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
297
woe
|
|
| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
298
middle-aged
|
|
| adj.中年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
299
expressively
|
|
| ad.表示(某事物)地；表达地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
300
cistern
|
|
| n.贮水池 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
301
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
302
pallid
|
|
| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
303
agitated
|
|
| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
304
distressed
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
305
sate
|
|
| v.使充分满足 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
306
discoursed
|
|
| 演说（discourse的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
307
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
308
saviour
|
|
| n.拯救者，救星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
309
consolation
|
|
| n.安慰，慰问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
310
animated
|
|
| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
311
glimmering
|
|
| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
312
afflicted
|
|
| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
313
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
314
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
315
rustic
|
|
| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
316
importunately
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
317
importunate
|
|
| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
318
irresistible
|
|
| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
319
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
320
importuning
|
|
| v.纠缠，向（某人）不断要求( importune的现在分词 )；（妓女）拉（客） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
321
badinage
|
|
| n.开玩笑，打趣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
322
disdain
|
|
| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
323
importunity
|
|
| n.硬要，强求 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
324
miller
|
|
| n.磨坊主 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
325
groom
|
|
| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
326
nay
|
|
| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
327
whining
|
|
| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
328
garrison
|
|
| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
329
accosts
|
|
| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的第三人称单数 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
330
taper
|
|
| n.小蜡烛，尖细，渐弱；adj.尖细的；v.逐渐变小 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |