A History of the Gipsies: with Specimens of the Gipsy LanguageSimson, Walter
History
A History of the Gipsies: with Specimens of the Gipsy Language
Simson, Walter
Romanies; Romanies -- Languages
On ascending the platform, Jamieson's demeanour was suitable to the
circumstances in which he found himself placed; but McDonald appeared
quite unconcerned. He was observed frequently to turn a quid of tobacco
in his mouth, and squirt the juice of it around him; it was even
evident, from his manner, that he expected to be delivered from the
gallows by his tribe; and more especially as he had been frequently
heard to say that the hemp was not grown that would hang him. He then
began to look frequently and wistfully around him for the expected aid,
yet none made its appearance; and his heart began to sink within him.
Indeed, the overwhelming force then surrounding him rendered a
deliverance impossible. Every hope having failed him, and seeing his end
at hand, McDonald resigned himself, with great firmness, to his fate,
and exclaimed: "I have neither friends on my right hand nor on my left;
I see I now must die." Jamieson, who appeared from the first never to
indulge in vain expectations of being rescued, exclaimed to his
fellow-sufferer: "Sandie, Sandie! it is all over with us, and I told you
so long ago." McDonald then turned to the executioner, whose name was
John Livingston, and dropping into his hand something, supposed to be
money, undauntedly said to him: "Now, John, don't bungle your job." Both
of the unhappy men were then launched into eternity. Ever afterwards,
the inhabitants of Linlithgow pestered the hangman, by calling to him:
"Now, John, don't bungle your job. What was it the Tinkler gave you,
John?"[93]
[93] "On Friday last, about three o'clock, McDonald and Jamieson were
hanged, at the end of Linlithgow bridge. The latter appeared very
penitent, but the former very little affected, and, as the saying is,
_died hard_."--_Ruddiman's Weekly Magazine_, vol. 9, page 416.
McDonald's wife had stood by, a quiet spectator, among the promiscuous
crowd, of the melancholy scene displayed before her. But when she had
witnessed the closing act of an eventful life--the heroism and fortitude
which all she held as dear displayed in his last moments--and enjoyed
the satisfaction which it had given her, nature, which the odium of her
fellow-creatures, not of her blood, could not destroy, burst forth with
genuine expression. The silence attending the awful tragedy was abruptly
broken by the lamentable yells and heart-rending screams which she gave
vent to, as she beheld her husband turned off the scaffold. Two
gentlemen, who were present, informed me that she foamed at the mouth,
and tore her hair out of her head, and was so completely frantic with
grief and rage, that the spectators were afraid to go near her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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