first of these wanderers, who in 1427 came to
Europe, 'well mounted,' and claiming to be men of the highest rank, and
to the condition and character of certain men among them in the
Slavonian countries of the present day. If we study carefully all that
is accessible both of the present and the past relative to this singular
race, we shall find that Scott, partly from knowledge and partly by
poetic intuition, has in this gypsy produced one of his most marvellous
and deeply interesting studies.

Like Bois Guilbert, Hayraddin is a man without a God, and the
peculiarity of his character lies in a constant realization of the fact
that he is absolutely _free_ from every form or principle of faith,
every conventional tie, every duty founded on aught save the most
natural instincts. He revels in this freedom; it is to him like magic
armor, making him invulnerable to shafts which reach all around
him--nay, which render him supremely indifferent to death itself.
Whether this extreme of philosophical skepticism and stoicism could be
consistently and correctly attributed to a gypsy of the fifteenth
century, will be presently considered. Let me first quote those passages
in which the character is best set forth. The first is that in which
Hayraddin, in reply to the queries of Quentin Durward, asserts that he
has no country, is not a Christian, and is altogether lawless:

'You are then,' said the wondering querist, 'destitute of all that
other men are combined by--you have no law, no leader, no settled
means of subsistence, no house or home. You have, may Heaven
compassionate you, no country--and, may Heaven enlighten and
forgive you, you have no God! What is it that remains to you,
deprived of government, domestic happiness, and religion?'

'I have liberty,' said the Bohemian--'I crouch to no one--obey no
one--respect no one.--I go where I will--live as I can--and die
when my day comes.'

'But you are subject to instant execution at the pleasure of the
Judge?'

'Be it so,' returned the Bohemian; 'I can but die so much the
sooner.'

'And to imprisonment also,' said the Scot; 'and where then is your
boasted freedom?'

'In my thoughts,' said the Bohemian, 'which no chains can bind;
while yours, even when your limbs are free, remain fettered by your
laws and your superstitions, your dreams of local attachment, and
your fantastic visio