generously made available by the internet archive/million book project). [illustration: george henry borrow from a painting by henry wyndham phillips] george borrow and his circle wherein may be found many hitherto unpublished letters of borrow and his friends by clement king shorter boston and new york houghton mifflin company to augustine birrell a friend of long years and a true lover of george borrow c. k. s. transcriber's notes: minor typos have been corrected. a letter with a macron over it has been designated with a [=], for example [=a] is an a with a macron over it. there is persian and russian writing in this book, which have been marked as [persian] or as [russian]. v^{m} signifies that the m is a superscript. preface i have to express my indebtedness first of all to the executors of henrietta macoubrey, george borrow's stepdaughter, who kindly placed borrow's letters and manuscripts at my disposal. to the survivor of these executors, a lady who resides in an english provincial town, i would particularly wish to render fullest acknowledgment did she not desire to escape all publicity and forbid me to give her name in print. i am indebted to sir william robertson nicoll without whose kindly and active intervention i should never have taken active steps to obtain the material to which this biography owes its principal value. i am under great obligations to mr. herbert jenkins, the publisher, in that, although the author of a successful biography of borrow, he has, with rare kindliness, brought me into communication with mr. wilfrid j. bowring, the grandson of sir john bowring. to mr. wilfrid bowring i am indebted in that he has handed to me the whole of borrow's letters to his grandfather. i have to thank mr. james hooper of norwich for the untiring zeal with which he has unearthed for me a valuable series of notes including certain interesting letters concerning borrow. mr. hooper has generously placed his collection, with which he at one time contemplated writing a biography of borrow, in my hands. i thank dr. aldis wright for reading my chapter on edward fitzgerald; also mr. w.h. peet, mr. aleck abrahams, and mr. joseph shaylor for assistance in the little known field of sir richard phillips's life. i have further to thank my friends, edward clodd and thomas j. wise, for reading my proof-sheets. to theodore watts-dunton, an untiring friend of thirty years, i have also to acknowledge abundant obligations. c. k. s. contents preface, v introduction, xv chapter i captain borrow of the west norfolk militia, chapter ii borrow's mother, chapter iii john thomas borrow, chapter iv a wandering childhood, chapter v george borrow's norwich--the gurneys, chapter vi george borrow's norwich--the taylors, chapter vii george borrow's norwich--the grammar school, chapter viii george borrow's norwich--the lawyer's office, chapter ix sir richard phillips, chapter x 'faustus' and 'romantic ballads,' chapter xi 'celebrated trials' and john thurtell, chapter xii borrow and the fancy, chapter xiii eight years of vagabondage, chapter xiv sir john bowring, chapter xv borrow and the bible society, chapter xvi st. petersburg and john p. hasfeld, chapter xvii the manchu bible--'targum'--'the talisman,' chapter xvii three visits to spain, chapter xix borrow's spanish circle, chapter xx mary borrow, chapter xxi 'the children of the open air,' chapter xxii 'the bible in spain,' chapter xxiii richard ford, chapter xxiv in eastern europe, chapter xxv 'lavengro,' chapter xxvi a visit to cornish kinsmen, chapter xxvii in the isle of man, chapter xxviii oulton broad and yarmouth, chapter xxix in scotland and ireland, chapter xxx 'the romany rye,' chapter xxxi edward fitzgerald, chapter xxxii 'wild wales,' chapter xxxiii life in london, chapter xxxiv friends of later years, chapter xxxv borrow's unpublished writings, chapter xxxvi henrietta clarke, chapter xxxvii the aftermath, index, list of illustrations full-page plates george borrow, _frontispiece_ _a photogravure portrait from the painting by henry wyndham phillips._ page the borrow house, norwich, robert hawkes, mayor of norwich in , _from the painting by benjamin haydon in st. andrew's hall, norwich._ george borrow, _from a portrait by his brother, john thomas borrow, in the national portrait gallery, london._ the erpingham gate and the grammar school, norwich william simpson, _from a portrait by thomas phillips, r.a., in the black friars hall, norwich._ friends of borrow's early years-- sir john bowring in , john p. hasfeld in , william taylor, sir richard phillips, the family of jasper petulengro, where borrow lived in madrid, the calle del principe, madrid, a hitherto unpublished portrait of george borrow, _taken in the garden of mrs. simms reeve of norwich in ._ oulton cottage from the broad, the summer-house, oulton, as it is to-day, illustrations in text george borrow's birthplace at dumpling green, _from a drawing by fortunino matania._ title-pages of 'targum' and 'the talisman,' portion of a letter from george borrow to the rev. samuel brandram, _written from madrid, th may ._ facsimile of an account of george borrow's expenses in spain made out by the bible society, a letter from sir george villiers, afterwards earl of clarendon, british minister to spain, to george borrow, mrs. borrow's copy of her marriage certificate, an application for a book in the british museum, with borrow's signature, a shekel, title-page of basque translation by oteiza of the gospel of st. luke, title-page of first edition of romany translation of the gospel of st. luke, two pages from borrow's corrected proof sheets of romany translation of the gospel of st. luke, inscriptions in borrow's handwriting on his wife's copies of 'the bible in spain' and 'lavengro,' the original title-page of 'lavengro,' _from the manuscript in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle.'_ facsimile of the first page of 'lavengro,' _from the manuscript in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle.'_ runic stone from the isle of man, facsimile of a communication from charles darwin to george borrow, facsimile of a page of the manuscript of 'the romany rye,' _from the borrow papers in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle._' 'wild wales' in its beginnings, _two pages from one of george borrow's pocket-books with pencilled notes made on his journey through wales._ facsimile of the title-page of 'wild wales,' _from the original manuscript in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle.'_ facsimile of the first page of 'wild wales,' _from the original manuscript in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle.'_ facsimile of a poem from 'targum,' _a translation from the french by george borrow._ borrow as a professor of languages--an advertisement, a page of the manuscript of borrow's 'songs of scandinavia'--an unpublished work, a letter from borrow to his wife written from rome in his continental journey of , introduction it is now exactly seventeen years ago since i published a volume not dissimilar in form to this under the title of _charlotte brontë and her circle_. the title had then an element of novelty, dante gabriel rossetti's _dante and his circle_, at the time the only book of this particular character, having quite another aim. there are now some twenty or more biographies based upon a similar plan.[ ] the method has its convenience where there are earlier lives of a given writer, as one can in this way differentiate the book from previous efforts by making one's hero stand out among his friends. some such apology, i feel, is necessary, because, in these days of the multiplication of books, every book, at least other than a work of imagination, requires ample apology. in _charlotte brontë and her circle_ i was able to claim that, even though following in the footsteps of mrs. gaskell, i had added some four hundred new letters by charlotte brontë to the world's knowledge of that interesting woman, and still more considerably enlarged our knowledge of her sister emily. this achievement has been generously acknowledged, and i am most proud of the testimony of the most accomplished of living biographers, sir george otto trevelyan, who once rendered me the following quite spontaneous tribute: we have lately read _aloud_ for the second time your brontë book; let alone private readings. it is unique in plan and excellence, and i am greatly obliged to you for it. apart from the pleasure of the book, the form of it has always interested me as a professional biographer. it certainly is novel; and in this case i am pretty sure that it is right. with such a testimony before me i cannot hesitate to present my second biography in similar form. in the case of george borrow, however, i am not in a position to supplement one transcendent biography, as in the case of charlotte brontë and mrs. gaskell. i have before me no less than four biographies of borrow, every one of them of distinctive merit. these are: _life, writings, and correspondence of george borrow._ derived from official and other authentic sources. by william i. knapp, ph.d., ll.d. vols. john murray, . _george borrow: the man and his work._ by r. a. j. walling. cassell, . _the life of george borrow._ compiled from unpublished official documents. his works, correspondence, etc. by herbert jenkins. john murray, . _george borrow: the man and his books._ by edward thomas. chapman and hall, . all of these books have contributed something of value and importance to the subject. dr. knapp's work it is easiest to praise because he is dead.[ ] his biography of borrow was the effort of a lifetime. a scholar with great linguistic qualifications for writing the biography of an author whose knowledge of languages was one of his titles to fame, dr. knapp spared neither time nor money to achieve his purpose. starting with an article in _the chautauquan magazine_ in , which was reprinted in pamphlet form, dr. knapp came to england--to norwich--and there settled down to write a _life_ of borrow, which promised at one time to develop into several volumes. as well it might, for dr. knapp reached norfolk at a happy moment for his purpose. mrs. macoubrey, borrow's stepdaughter, was in the humour to sell her father's manuscripts and books. they were offered to the city of norwich; there was some talk of mr. jeremiah coleman, m.p., whose influence and wealth were overpowering in norwich at the time, buying them. finally, a very considerable portion of the collection came into the hands of mr. webber, a bookseller of ipswich, who later became associated with the firm of jarrold of norwich. from webber dr. knapp purchased the larger portion, and, as his bibliography indicates (_life_, vol. ii. pp. - ), he became possessed of sundry notebooks which furnish a record of certain of borrow's holiday tours, about a hundred letters from and to borrow, and a considerable number of other documents. the result, as i have indicated, was a book that abounded in new facts and is rich in new material. it was not, however, a book for popular reading. you must love the subject before you turn to this book with any zest. it is a book for your true borrovian, who is thankful for any information about the word-master, not for the casual reader, who might indeed be alienated from the subject by this copious memoir. the result was somewhat discouraging. there were not enough of true borrovians in those years, and the book was not received too generously. the two volumes have gone out of print and have not reached a second edition. time however, will do them justice. as it is, your good borrow lover has always appreciated their merits. take lionel johnson for example, a good critic and a master of style. after saying that these 'lengthy and rich volumes are a monument of love's labour, but not of literary art or biographical skill,' he adds: 'of his over eight hundred pages there is not one for which i am not grateful' and every new biographer of borrow is bound to re-echo that sentiment. dr. knapp did the spade work and other biographers have but entered into his inheritance. dr. knapp's fine collection of borrow books and manuscripts was handed over by his widow to the american nation--to the hispanic society of new york. dr. knapp's biography was followed nine years later by a small volume by mr. r. a. j. walling, whose little book adds considerably to our knowledge of borrow's cornish relatives, and is in every way a valuable monograph on the author of _lavengro_. mr. herbert jenkins's book is more ambitious. within four hundred closely printed pages he has compressed every incident in borrow's career, and we would not quarrel with him nor his publisher for calling his life a 'definitive biography' if one did not know that there is not and cannot be anything 'definitive' about a biography except in the case of a master. boswell, lockhart, mrs. gaskell are authors who had the advantage of knowing personally the subjects of their biographies. any biographer who has not met his hero face to face and is dependent solely on documents is crippled in his undertaking. moreover, such a biographer is always liable to be in a manner superseded or at least supplemented by the appearance of still more documents. however, mr. jenkins's excellent biography has the advantage of many new documents from mr. john murray's archives and from the record office manuscripts. his work was the first to make use of the letters of george borrow to the bible society, which the rev. t. h. darlow has published as a book under that title, a book to which i owe him an acknowledgment for such use of it as i have made, as also for permission to reproduce the title-page of borrow's basque version of st. luke's gospel. there only remains for me to say a word in praise of mr. edward thomas's fine critical study of borrow which was published under the title of _george borrow: the man and his books_. mr. thomas makes no claim to the possession of new documents. this brings me to such excuse as i can make for perpetrating a fifth biography. when mrs. macoubrey, borrow's stepdaughter, the 'hen.' of _wild wales_ and the affectionate companion of his later years, sold her father's books and manuscripts--and she always to her dying day declared that she had no intention of parting with the manuscripts, which were, she said, taken away under a misapprehension--she did not, of course, part with any of his more private documents. all the more intimate letters of borrow were retained. at her death these passed to her executors, from whom i have purchased all legal rights in the publication of borrow's hitherto unpublished manuscripts and letters. i trust that even to those who may disapprove of the discursive method with which--solely for my own pleasure--i have written this book, will at least find a certain biographical value in the many new letters by and to george borrow that are to be found in its pages. the book has taken me ten years to write, and has been a labour of love. footnotes: [ ] as for example, _garrick and his circle_; _johnson and his circle_; _reynolds and his circle_; and even _the empress eugénie and her circle_. [ ] william ireland knapp died in paris in june , aged seventy-four. he was an american, and had held for many years the chair of modern languages at vassar college. after eleven years in spain he returned to occupy the chair of modern languages at yale, and later held a professorship at chicago. after his _life of borrow_ was published he resided in paris until his death. chapter i captain borrow of the west norfolk militia george henry borrow was born at dumpling green near east dereham, norfolk, on the th of july . it pleased him to state on many an occasion that he was born at east dereham. on an evening of july, in the year --, at east d----, a beautiful little town in a certain district of east anglia, i first saw the light, he writes in the opening lines of _lavengro_, using almost the identical phraseology that we find in the opening lines of goethe's _wahrheit und dichtung_. here is a later memory of dereham from _lavengro_: what it is at present i know not, for thirty years and more have elapsed since i last trod its streets. it will scarcely have improved, for how could it be better than it was? i love to think on thee, pretty, quiet d----, thou pattern of an english country town, with thy clean but narrow streets branching out from thy modest market-place, with their old-fashioned houses, with here and there a roof of venerable thatch, with thy one half-aristocratic mansion, where resided the lady bountiful--she, the generous and kind, who loved to visit the sick, leaning on her golden-headed cane, while the sleek old footman walked at a respectful distance behind. pretty, quiet d----, with thy venerable church, in which moulder the mortal remains of england's sweetest and most pious bard. then follows an exquisite eulogy of the poet cowper, which readers of _lavengro_ know full well. three years before borrow was born william cowper died in this very town, leaving behind him so rich a legacy of poetry and of prose, and moreover so fragrant a memory of a life in which humour and pathos played an equal part. it was no small thing for a youth who aspired to any kind of renown to be born in the neighbourhood of the last resting-place of the author of _the task_. yet borrow was not actually born in east dereham, but a mile and a half away, at the little hamlet of dumpling green, in what was then a glorious wilderness of common and furze bush, but is now a quiet landscape of fields and hedges. you will find the home in which the author of _lavengro_ first saw the light without much difficulty. it is a fair-sized farm-house, with a long low frontage separated from the road by a considerable strip of garden. it suggests a prosperous yeoman class, and i have known farm-houses in east anglia not one whit larger dignified by the name of 'hall.' nearly opposite is a pond. the trim hedges are a delight to us to-day, but you must cast your mind back to a century ago when they were entirely absent. the house belonged to george borrow's maternal grandfather, samuel perfrement, who farmed the adjacent land at this time. samuel and mary perfrement had eight children, the third of whom, ann, was born in . in february ann perfrement, aged twenty-one, married thomas borrow, aged thirty-five, in the parish church of east dereham, and of the two children that were born to them george henry borrow was the younger. thomas borrow was the son of one john borrow of st. cleer in cornwall, who died before this child was born, and is described by his grandson[ ] as the scion 'of an ancient but reduced cornish family, tracing descent from the de burghs, and entitled to carry their arms.' this claim, of which i am thoroughly sceptical, is endorsed by dr. knapp,[ ] who, however, could find no trace of the family earlier than , the old parish registers having been destroyed. when thomas borrow was born the family were in any case nothing more than small farmers, and thomas borrow and his brothers were working on the land in the intervals of attending the parish school. at the age of eighteen thomas was apprenticed to a maltster at liskeard, and about this time he joined the local militia. tradition has it that his career as a maltster was cut short by his knocking his master down in a scrimmage. the victor fled from the scene of his prowess, and enlisted as a private soldier in the coldstream guards. this was in , and in he was transferred to the west norfolk militia; hence his appearance at east dereham, where, now a serjeant, his occupations for many a year were recruiting and drilling.[ ] it is recorded that at a theatrical performance at east dereham he first saw, presumably on the stage of the county-hall, his future wife--ann perfrement. she was, it seems, engaged in a minor part in a travelling company, not, we may assume, altogether with the sanction of her father, who, in spite of his inheritance of french blood, doubtless shared the then very strong english prejudice against the stage. however, ann was one of eight children, and had, as we shall find in after years, no inconsiderable strength of character, and so may well at twenty years of age have decided upon a career for herself. in any case we need not press too hard the cornish and french origin of george borrow to explain his wandering tendencies, nor need we wonder at the suggestion of nathaniel hawthorne, that he was 'supposed to be of gypsy descent by the mother's side.' you have only to think of the father, whose work carried him from time to time to every corner of england, scotland, and ireland, and of the mother with her reminiscence of life in a travelling theatrical company, to explain in no small measure the glorious vagabondage of george borrow. behold then thomas borrow and ann perfrement as man and wife, he being thirty-five years of age, she twenty-one. a roving, restless life was in front of the pair for many a day, the west norfolk militia being stationed in some eight or nine separate towns within the interval of ten years between thomas borrow's marriage and his second son's birth. the first child, john thomas borrow, was born on the th april .[ ] the second son, george henry borrow, the subject of this memoir, was born in his grandfather's house at dumpling green, east dereham, his mother having found a natural refuge with her father while her husband was busily recruiting in norfolk. the two children passed with their parents from place to place, and in we find them once again in east dereham. from his son's two books, _lavengro_ and _wild wales_, we can trace the father's later wanderings until his final retirement to norwich on a pension. in the family were at norman cross in huntingdonshire, when captain borrow had to assist in guarding the french prisoners of war; for it was the stirring epoch of the napoleonic conflict, and within the temporary prison 'six thousand french and other foreigners, followers of the grand corsican, were now immured.' what a strange appearance had those mighty casernes, with their blank blind walls, without windows or grating, and their slanting roofs, out of which, through orifices where the tiles had been removed, would be protruded dozens of grim heads, feasting their prison-sick eyes on the wide expanse of country unfolded from that airy height. ah! there was much misery in those casernes; and from those roofs, doubtless, many a wistful look was turned in the direction of lovely france. much had the poor inmates to endure, and much to complain of, to the disgrace of england be it said--of england, in general so kind and bountiful. rations of carrion meat, and bread from which i have seen the very hounds occasionally turn away, were unworthy entertainment even for the most ruffian enemy, when helpless and a captive; and such, alas! was the fare in those casernes. but here we have only to do with thomas borrow, of whom we get many a quaint glimpse in _lavengro_, our first and our last being concerned with him in the one quality that his son seems to have inherited, as the associate of a prize-fighter--big ben brain. borrow records in his opening chapter that ben brain and his father met in hyde park probably in , and that after an hour's conflict 'the champions shook hands and retired, each having experienced quite enough of the other's prowess.' borrow further relates that four months afterwards brain 'died in the arms of my father, who read to him the bible in his last moments.' dr. knapp finds borrow in one of his many inaccuracies or rather 'imaginings' here, as brain did not die until . more than once in his after years the old soldier seems to have had a shy pride in that early conflict, although the piety which seems to have come to him with the responsibilities of wife and children led him to count any recalling of the episode as a 'temptation.' when borrow was about thirteen years of age, he overheard his father and mother discussing their two boys, the elder being the father's favourite and george the mother's: 'i will hear nothing against my first-born,' said my father, 'even in the way of insinuation: he is my joy and pride; the very image of myself in my youthful days, long before i fought big ben, though perhaps not quite so tall or strong built. as for the other, god bless the child! i love him, i'm sure; but i must be blind not to see the difference between him and his brother. why, he has neither my hair nor my eyes; and then his countenance! why, 'tis absolutely swarthy, god forgive me! i had almost said like that of a gypsy, but i have nothing to say against that; the boy is not to be blamed for the colour of his face, nor for his hair and eyes; but, then, his ways and manners!--i confess i do not like them, and that they give me no little uneasiness.'[ ] borrow throughout his narrative refers to his father as 'a man of excellent common sense,' and he quotes the opinion of william taylor, who had rather a bad reputation as a 'freethinker' with all the church-going citizens of norwich, with no little pride. borrow is of course the 'young man' of the dialogue. he was then eighteen years of age: 'not so, not so,' said the young man eagerly; 'before i knew you i knew nothing, and am still very ignorant; but of late my father's health has been very much broken, and he requires attention; his spirits also have become low, which, to tell you the truth, he attributes to my misconduct. he says that i have imbibed all kinds of strange notions and doctrines, which will, in all probability, prove my ruin, both here and hereafter; which--which----' 'ah! i understand,' said the elder, with another calm whiff. 'i have always had a kind of respect for your father, for there is something remarkable in his appearance, something heroic, and i would fain have cultivated his acquaintance; the feeling, however, has not been reciprocated. i met him the other day, up the road, with his cane and dog, and saluted him; he did not return my salutation.' 'he has certain opinions of his own,' said the youth, 'which are widely different from those which he has heard that you profess.' 'i respect a man for entertaining an opinion of his own,' said the elderly individual. 'i hold certain opinions; but i should not respect an individual the more for adopting them. all i wish for is tolerance, which i myself endeavour to practise. i have always loved the truth, and sought it; if i have not found it, the greater my misfortune.'[ ] when borrow is twenty years of age we have another glimpse of father and son, the father in his last illness, the son eager as usual to draw out his parent upon the one subject that appeals to his adventurous spirit, 'i should like to know something about big ben,' he says: 'you are a strange lad,' said my father; 'and though of late i have begun to entertain a more favourable opinion than heretofore, there is still much about you that i do not understand. why do you bring up that name? don't you know that it is one of my temptations? you wish to know something about him? well, i will oblige you this once, and then farewell to such vanities--something about him. i will tell you--his--skin when he flung off his clothes--and he had a particular knack in doing so--his skin, when he bared his mighty chest and back for combat; and when he fought he stood, so--if i remember right--his skin, i say, was brown and dusky as that of a toad. oh me! i wish my elder son was here!' concerning the career of borrow's father there seem to be no documents other than one contained in _lavengro_, yet no _life of borrow_ can possibly he complete that does not draw boldly upon the son's priceless tributes. and so we come now to the last scene in the career of the elder borrow--his death-bed--which is also the last page of the first volume of _lavengro_. george borrow's brother has arrived from abroad. the little house in willow lane, norwich, contained the mother and her two sons sorrowfully awaiting the end, which came on th february . at the dead hour of night--it might be about two--i was awakened from sleep by a cry which sounded from the room immediately below that in which i slept. i knew the cry--it was the cry of my mother; and i also knew its import, yet i made no effort to rise, for i was for the moment paralysed. again the cry sounded, yet still i lay motionless--the stupidity of horror was upon me. a third time, and it was then that, by a violent effort, bursting the spell which appeared to bind me, i sprang from the bed and rushed downstairs. my mother was running wildly about the room; she had awoke and found my father senseless in the bed by her side. i essayed to raise him, and after a few efforts supported him in the bed in a sitting posture. my brother now rushed in, and, snatching up a light that was burning, he held it to my father's face. 'the surgeon! the surgeon!' he cried; then, dropping the light, he ran out of the room, followed by my mother; i remained alone, supporting the senseless form of my father; the light had been extinguished by the fall, and an almost total darkness reigned in the room. the form pressed heavily against my bosom; at last methought it moved. yes, i was right; there was a heaving of the breast, and then a gasping. were those words which i heard? yes, they were words, low and indistinct at first, and then audible. the mind of the dying man was reverting to former scenes. i heard him mention names which i had often heard him mention before. it was an awful moment; i felt stupefied, but i still contrived to support my dying father. there was a pause; again my father spoke: i heard him speak of minden, and of meredith, the old minden serjeant, and then he uttered another name, which at one period of his life was much on his lips, the name of ----; but this is a solemn moment! there was a deep gasp: i shook, and thought all was over; but i was mistaken--my father moved, and revived for a moment; he supported himself in bed without my assistance. i make no doubt that for a moment he was perfectly sensible, and it was then that, clasping his hands, he uttered another name clearly, distinctly--it was the name of christ. with that name upon his lips the brave old soldier sank back upon my bosom, and, with his hands still clasped, yielded up his soul. did borrow's father ever really fight big ben brain or bryan in hyde park, or is it all a fantasy of the artist's imagining? we shall never know. borrow called his _lavengro_ 'an autobiography' at one stage of its inception, although he wished to repudiate the autobiographical nature of his story at another. dr. knapp in his anxiety to prove that borrow wrote his own memoirs in _lavengro_ and _romany rye_ tells us that he had no creative faculty--an absurd proposition. but i think we may accept the contest between ben brain and thomas borrow, and what a revelation of heredity that impressive death-bed scene may be counted. borrow on one occasion in later life declared that his favourite hooks were the bible and the newgate calendar. we know that he specialised on the bible and prize-fighting in no ordinary fashion--and here we see his father on his death-bed struggling between the religious sentiments of his maturity and the one great worldly escapade of his early manhood. footnotes: [ ] in the year borrow was asked for material for a biography by the editor of _men of the time_, a publication which many years later was incorporated in the present _who's who_. he drew up two drafts in his own handwriting, which are so interesting, and yet vary so much in certain particulars, that we are tempted to print both here, or at least that part of the second draft that differs from the first. the concluding passages of both drafts are alike. the biography as it stands in the edition of _men of the time_ appears to have been compiled from the earlier of these drafts. it must have been another copy of draft no. that was forwarded to the editor: draft i.--george henry borrow, born at east dereham in the county of norfolk in the early part of the present century. his father was a military officer, with whom he travelled about most parts of the united kingdom. he was at some of the best schools in england, and also for about two years at the high school at edinburgh. in he was articled to an eminent solicitor at norwich, with whom he continued five years. he did not, however, devote himself much to his profession, his mind being much engrossed by philology, for which at a very early period he had shown a decided inclination, having when in ireland acquired the irish language. at the age of twenty he knew little of the law, but was well versed in languages, being not only a good classical scholar but acquainted with french, italian, spanish, all the celtic and gothic dialects, and also with the peculiar language of the english romany chals or gypsies. this speech, which, though broken and scanty, exhibits evident signs of high antiquity, he had picked up amongst the wandering tribes with whom he had formed acquaintance on a wild heath near norwich, where they were in the habit of encamping. at the expiration of his clerkship, which occurred shortly after the death of his father, he betook himself to london, and endeavoured to get a livelihood by literature. for some time he was a hack author. his health failing he left london, and for a considerable time lived a life of roving adventure. in the year he entered the service of he british and foreign bible society, and being sent to russia edited at saint petersburg the new testament in the manchu or chinese tartar. whilst at saint petersburg he published a book called _targum_, consisting of metrical translations from thirty languages. he was subsequently for some years agent of the bible society in spain, where he was twice imprisoned for endeavouring to circulate the gospel. in spain he mingled much with the calóre or zincali, called by the spaniards gitanos or gypsies, whose language he found to be much the same as that of the english romany. at madrid he edited the new testament in spanish, and translated the gospel of saint luke into the language of the zincali. leaving the service of the bible society he returned to england in , and shortly afterwards married a suffolk lady. in he published _the zincali_, or an account of the gypsies of spain, with a vocabulary of their language, which he proved to be closely connected with the sanskrit. this work obtained almost immediately a european celebrity, and was the cause of many learned works being published on the continent on the subject of the gypsies. in he gave to the world _the bible in spain_, or an account of an attempt to circulate the gospel in the peninsula, a work which received a warm and eloquent eulogium from sir robert peel in the house of commons. in he was wandering amongst the gypsies of hungary, walachia, and turkey, gathering up the words of their respective dialects of the romany, and making a collection of their songs. in he published _lavengro_, in which he gives an account of his early life, and in _the romany rye_, a sequel to the same. his latest publication is _wild wales_. he has written many other works, some of which are not yet published. he has an estate in suffolk, but spends the greater part of his time in wandering on foot through various countries. * * * * * draft ii.--george henry borrow was born at east dereham in the county of norfolk on the th july . his father, thomas borrow, who died captain and adjutant of the west norfolk militia, was of an ancient but reduced cornish family, tracing descent from the de burghs, and entitled to carry their arms. his mother, ann perfrement, was a native of norfolk, and descended from a family of french protestants banished from france on the revocation of the edict of nantes. he was the youngest of two sons. his brother, john thomas, who was endowed with various and very remarkable talents, died at an early age in mexico. both the brothers had the advantage of being at some of the first schools in britain. the last at which they were placed was the grammar school at norwich, to which town their father came to reside at the termination of the french war. in the year george borrow was articled to an eminent solicitor in norwich, with whom he continued five years. he did not devote himself much to his profession, his mind being engrossed by another and very different subject--namely philology, for which at a very early period he had shown a decided inclination, having when in ireland with his father acquired the irish language. at the expiration of his clerkship he knew little of the law, but was well versed in languages, being not only a good greek and latin scholar, but acquainted with french, italian, and spanish, all the celtic and gothic dialects, and likewise with the peculiar language of the english romany chals or gypsies. this speech or jargon, amounting to about eleven hundred and twenty-seven words, he had picked up amongst the wandering tribes with whom he had formed acquaintance on mousehold, a wild heath near norwich, where they were in the habit of encamping. by the time his clerkship was expired his father was dead, and he had little to depend upon but the exercise of his abilities such as they were. in he betook himself to london, and endeavoured to obtain a livelihood by literature. for some time he was a hack author, doing common work for booksellers. for one in particular he prepared an edition of the newgate calendar, from the careful study of which he has often been heard to say that he first learned to write genuine english. his health failed, he left london, and for a considerable time he lived a life of roving adventure. [ ] knapp's _life of borrow_, vol. i. p. . [ ] the writer recalls at his own school at downham market in norfolk an old crimean veteran--serjeant canham--drilling the boys each week, thus supplementing his income precisely in the same manner as did serjeant borrow. [ ] the date has always hitherto been wrongly given. i find it in one of ann borrow's notebooks, but although every vicar of every parish in chelmsford and colchester has searched the registers for me, with agreeable courtesy, i cannot discover a record of john's birthplace, and am compelled to the belief that dr. knapp was wrong in suggesting one or other of these towns. [ ] _lavengro_, ch. xiv. [ ] _lavengro_, ch. xxiii. chapter ii borrow's mother throughout his whole life george borrow adored his mother, who seems to have developed into a woman of great strength of character far remote from the pretty play-actor who won the heart of a young soldier at east dereham in the last years of the eighteenth century. we would gladly know something of the early years of ann perfrement. her father was a farmer, whose farm at dumpling green we have already described. he did not, however, 'farm his own little estate' as borrow declared. the grandfather--a french protestant--came, if we are to believe borrow, from caen in normandy after the revocation of the edict of nantes, but there is no documentary evidence to support the contention. however, the story of the huguenot immigration into england is clearly bound up with norwich and the adjacent district. and so we may well take the name of 'perfrement' as conclusive evidence of a french origin, and reject as utterly untenable the not unnatural suggestion of nathaniel hawthorne, that borrow's mother was 'of gypsy descent.'[ ] she was one of the eight children of samuel and mary perfrement, all of whom seem to have devoted their lives to east anglia.[ ] we owe to dr. knapp's edition of _lavengro_ one exquisite glimpse of ann's girlhood that is not in any other issue of the book. ann's elder sister, curious to know if she was ever to be married, falls in with the current superstition that she must wash her linen and 'watch' it drying before the fire between eleven and twelve at night. ann perfrement was ten years old at the time. the two girls walked over to east dereham, purchased the necessary garment, washed it in the pool near the house that may still be seen, and watched and watched. suddenly when the clock struck twelve they heard, or thought they heard, a footstep on the path, the wind howled, and the elder sister sprang to the door, locked and bolted it, and then fell in convulsions on the floor. the superstition, which borrow seems to have told his mother had a danish origin, is common enough in ireland and in celtic lands. it could scarcely have been thus rehearsed by two norfolk children had they not had the blood of a more imaginative race in their veins. in addition to this we find more than one effective glimpse of borrow's mother in _lavengro_. we have already noted the episode in which she takes the side of her younger boy against her husband, with whom john was the favourite. we meet her again in the following dialogue, with its pathetic allusions to dante and to the complaint--a kind of nervous exhaustion which he called 'the horrors'--that was to trouble borrow all his days: 'what ails you, my child?' said a mother to her son, as he lay on a couch under the influence of the dreadful one; 'what ails you? you seem afraid!' _boy._ and so i am; a dreadful fear is upon me. _mother._ but of what? there is no one can harm you; of what are you apprehensive? _boy._ of nothing that i can express. i know not what i am afraid of, but afraid i am. _mother._ perhaps you see sights and visions. i knew a lady once who was continually thinking that she saw an armed man threaten her, but it was only an imagination, a phantom of the brain. _boy._ no armed man threatens me; and 'tis not a thing like that would cause me any fear. did an armed man threaten me i would get up and fight him; weak as i am, i would wish for nothing better, for then, perhaps, i should lose this fear; mine is a dread of i know not what, and there the horror lies. _mother._ your forehead is cool, and your speech collected. do you know where you are? _boy._ i know where i am, and i see things just as they are; you are beside me, and upon the table there is a book which was written by a florentine; all this i see, and that there is no ground for being afraid. i am, moreover, quite cool, and feel no pain--but, but---- and then there was a burst of 'gemiti, sospiri ed alti guai.' alas, alas, poor child of clay! as the sparks fly upward, so wast thou born to sorrow--onward![ ] our next glimpse of mrs. borrow is when after his father's death george had shouldered his knapsack and made his way to london to seek his fortune by literature. his elder brother had remained at home, determined upon being a painter, but joined george in london, leaving the widowed mother momentarily alone in norwich. 'and how are things going on at home?' said i to my brother, after we had kissed and embraced. 'how is my mother, and how is the dog?' 'my mother, thank god, is tolerably well,' said my brother, 'but very much given to fits of crying. as for the dog, he is not so well; but we will talk more of these matters anon,' said my brother, again glancing at the breakfast things. 'i am very hungry, as you may suppose, after having travelled all night.' thereupon i exerted myself to the best of my ability to perform the duties of hospitality, and i made my brother welcome--i may say more than welcome; and when the rage of my brother's hunger was somewhat abated, we recommenced talking about the matters of our little family, and my brother told me much about my mother; he spoke of her fits of crying, but said that of late the said fits of crying had much diminished, and she appeared to be taking comfort; and, if i am not much mistaken, my brother told me that my mother had of late the prayer-book frequently in her hand, and yet oftener the bible.[ ] ann borrow lived in willow lane, norwich, for thirty-three years. that borrow was a devoted husband these pages will show. he was also a devoted son. when he had made a prosperous marriage he tried hard to persuade his mother to live with him at oulton, but all in vain. she had the wisdom to see that such an arrangement is rarely conducive to a son's domestic happiness. she continued to live in the little cottage made sacred by many associations until almost the end of her days. here she had lived in earlier years with her husband and her two ambitious boys, and in norwich, doubtless, she had made her own friendships, although of these no record remains. the cottage still stands in its modest court, but is at the moment untenanted. there is a letter extant from cecilia lucy brightwell, who wrote _the life of mrs. opie_, to mary borrow at oulton, when mrs. borrow the elder had gone to live there, which records the fact that in , two years after mrs. borrow had left the cottage in willow lane, it had already changed its appearance. mrs. brightwell writes: give my kind love to dear mother. tell her i went past her house to-day and looked up the court. it is quite changed: all the trees and the ivy taken away. the house was the property of thomas king, a carpenter. you enter from willow lane through a covered passage into what was then known as king's court. here the little house faces you, and you meet it with a peculiarly agreeable sensation, recalling more than one incident in _lavengro_ that transpired there. in the then mayor made the one attempt of his city of a whole half century to honour borrow by calling this court borrow's court--thereby conferring a ridiculously small distinction upon borrow,[ ] and removing a landmark connected with one of its own worthy citizens. for thomas king, the carpenter, was in direct descent in the maternal line from the family of parker, which gave to norwich one of its most distinguished sons in the famous archbishop of queen elizabeth's day. he extended his business as carpenter sufficiently to die a prosperous builder. of his two sons one, also named thomas, became physician to prince talleyrand, and married a sister of john stuart mill.[ ] all this by the way, but there is little more to record of borrow's mother apart from the letters addressed to her by her son, which occur in their due place in these records. yet one little memorandum among my papers which bears mrs. borrow's signature may well find place here: in the year i was at canterbury. one night at about one o'clock sir robert laurie and captain treve came to our lodgings and tapped at our bedroom door, and told my husband to get up, and get the men under arms without beat of drum as soon as possible, for that there was a mutiny at the nore. my husband did so, and in less than two hours they had marched out of town towards sheerness without making any noise. they had to break open the store-house in order to get provender, because the quartermaster, serjeant rowe, was out of the way. the dragoon guards at that time at canterbury were in a state of mutiny. ann borrow. [illustration: the borrow house, norwich the house is situated in borrow's court, formerly king's court, willow lane, st. giles's, norwich, and here borrow lived at intervals from to his marriage in . his mother lived here for thirty-three years until ; his father died here, and is buried in the neighbouring churchyard of st. giles's.] footnotes: [ ] th may . dining at mr. rathbone's one evening last week ( st may), it was mentioned that borrow, author of _the bible in spain_, is supposed to be of gypsy descent by the mother's side. hereupon mr. martineau mentioned that he had been a schoolfellow of borrow, and though he had never heard of his gypsy blood, he thought it probable, from borrow's traits of character. he said that borrow had once run away from school, and carried with him a party of other boys, meaning to lead a wandering life (_the english notebooks of nathaniel hawthorne_, vol. ii. ). [ ] samuel and maria perfrement were married in , the latter to john burcham. two of her brothers survived ann borrow, samuel perfrement dying in and philip in . [ ] _lavengro_, ch. xviii. [ ] _lavengro_, ch. xxxvii. [ ] in may the lord mayor of norwich (mr. a. m. samuel) purchased the borrow house in willow lane for £ , and gave it to the city for the purpose of a borrow museum. [ ] this thomas king was a cousin of my mother; his father built the borrow house in norwich in . the only allusion to him i have ever seen in print is contained in a letter on _lavengro_ contributed by thomas burcham to _the britannia_ newspaper of june , :--'with your criticism on _lavengro_ i cordially agree, and if you were disappointed in the long promised work, what must i have been? a schoolfellow of borrow, who, in the autobiography, expected to find much interesting matter, not only relating to himself, but also to schoolfellows and friends--the associates of his youth, who, in after-life, gained no slight notoriety--amongst them may be named sir james brooke, rajah of sarawak; poor stoddard, who was murdered at bokhara, and who, as a boy, displayed that noble bearing and high sensitiveness of honour which partly induced that fatal result; and thomas king, one of borrow's early friends, who, the son of a carpenter at norwich, the landlord of lavengro's father, after working in his father's shop till nearly sixteen, went to paris, entered himself as a student at one of the hospitals, and through his energy and intellect became internal surgeon of l'hôtel dieu and private physician to prince talleyrand.' thomas borrow burcham was magistrate of southwark police court from till his death in . he was the son of maria perfrement, borrow's aunt. chapter iii john thomas borrow john thomas borrow was born two years before his younger brother, that is, on the th april . his father, then serjeant borrow, was wandering from town to town, and it is not known where his elder son first saw the light. john borrow's nature was cast in a somewhat different mould from that of his brother. he was his father's pride. serjeant borrow could not understand george with his extraordinary taste for the society of queer people--the wild irish and the ragged romanies. john had far more of the normal in his being. borrow gives us in _lavengro_ our earliest glimpse of his brother: he was a beautiful child; one of those occasionally seen in england, and in england alone; a rosy, angelic face, blue eyes, and light chestnut hair; it was not exactly an anglo-saxon countenance, in which, by the by, there is generally a cast of loutishness and stupidity; it partook, to a certain extent, of the celtic character, particularly in the fire and vivacity which illumined it; his face was the mirror of his mind; perhaps no disposition more amiable was ever found amongst the children of adam, united, however, with no inconsiderable portion of high and dauntless spirit. so great was his beauty in infancy, that people, especially those of the poorer classes, would follow the nurse who carried him about in order to look at and bless his lovely face. at the age of three months an attempt was made to snatch him from his mother's arms in the streets of london, at the moment she was about to enter a coach; indeed, his appearance seemed to operate so powerfully upon every person who beheld him, that my parents were under continual apprehension of losing him; his beauty, however, was perhaps surpassed by the quickness of his parts. he mastered his letters in a few hours, and in a day or two could decipher the names of people on the doors of houses and over the shop-windows. john received his early education at the norwich grammar school, while the younger brother was kept under the paternal wing. father and mother, with their younger boy george, were always on the move, passing from county to county and from country to country, as serjeant borrow, soon to be captain, attended to his duties of drilling and recruiting, now in england, now in scotland, now in ireland. we are given a fascinating glimpse of john borrow in _lavengro_ by way of a conversation between mr. and mrs. borrow over the education of their children. it was agreed that while the family were in edinburgh the boys should be sent to the high school, and so at the historic school that sir walter scott had attended a generation before the two boys were placed, john being removed from the norwich grammar school for the purpose. among his many prejudices of after years borrow's dislike of scott was perhaps the most regrettable, otherwise he would have gloried in the fact that their childhood had had one remarkable point in common. each boy took part in the feuds between the old town and the new town. exactly as scott records his prowess at 'the manning of the cowgate port,' and the combats maintained with great vigour, 'with stones, and sticks, and fisticuffs,' as set forth in the first volume of lockhart, so we have not dissimilar feats set down in _lavengro_. side by side also with the story of 'green-breeks,' which stands out in scott's narrative of his school combats, we have the more lurid account by borrow of david haggart. literary biography is made more interesting by such episodes of likeness and of contrast. we next find john borrow in ireland with his father, mother, and brother. george is still a child, but he is precocious enough to be learning the language, and thus laying the foundation of his interest in little-known tongues. john is now an ensign in his father's regiment. 'ah! he was a sweet being, that boy soldier, a plant of early promise, bidding fair to become in after time all that is great, good, and admirable.' ensign john tells his little brother how pleased he is to find himself, although not yet sixteen years old, 'a person in authority with many englishmen under me. oh! these last six weeks have passed like hours in heaven.' that was in , and we do not meet john again until five years later, when we hear of him rushing into the water to save a drowning man, while twenty others were bathing who might have rendered assistance. borrow records once again his father's satisfaction: 'my boy, my own boy, you are the very image of myself, the day i took off my coat in the park to fight big ben,' said my father, on meeting his son, wet and dripping, immediately after his bold feat. and who cannot excuse the honest pride of the old man--the stout old man? in the interval the war had ended, and napoleon had departed for st. helena. peace had led to the pensioning of militia officers, or reducing to half-pay of the juniors. the elder borrow had settled in norwich. george was set to study at the grammar school there, while his brother worked in old crome's studio, for here was a moment when norwich had its interesting renaissance, and john borrow was bent on being an artist. he had worked with crome once before--during the brief interval that napoleon was at elba--but now he set to in real earnest, and we have evidence of a score of pictures by him that were catalogued in the exhibitions of the norwich society of artists between the years and . they include one portrait of the artist's father, and two of his brother george.[ ] old crome died in , and then john went to london to study under haydon. borrow declares that his brother had real taste for painting, and that 'if circumstances had not eventually diverted his mind from the pursuit, he would have attained excellence, and left behind him some enduring monument of his powers,' 'he lacked, however,' he tells us, 'one thing, the want of which is but too often fatal to the sons of genius, and without which genius is little more than a splendid toy in the hands of the possessor--perseverance, dogged perseverance.' it is when he is thus commenting on his brother's characteristics that borrow gives his own fine if narrow eulogy of old crome. john borrow seems to have continued his studies in london under haydon for a year, and then to have gone to paris to copy pictures at the louvre. he mentions a particular copy that he made of a celebrated picture by one of the italian masters, for which a hungarian nobleman paid him well. his three years' absence was brought to an abrupt termination by news of his father's illness. he returned to norwich in time to stand by that father's bedside when he died. the elder borrow died, as we have seen, in february . the little home in king's court was kept on for the mother, and as john was making money by his pictures it was understood that he should stay with her. on the st april, however, george started for london, carrying the manuscript of _romantic ballads from the danish_ to sir richard phillips, the publisher. on the th of the same month he was joined by his brother john. john had come to london at his own expense, but in the interests of the norwich town council. the council wanted a portrait of one of its mayors for st. andrew's hall--that valhalla of norwich municipal worthies which still strikes the stranger as well-nigh unique in the city life of england. the municipality would fain have encouraged a fellow-citizen, and john borrow had been invited to paint the portrait. 'why,' it was asked, 'should the money go into a stranger's pocket and be spent in london?' john, however, felt diffident of his ability and declined, and this in spite of the fact that the £ offered for the portrait must have been very tempting. 'what a pity it was,' he said, 'that crome was dead.' 'crome,' said the orator of the deputation that had called on john borrow, 'crome; yes, he was a clever man, a very clever man, in his way; he was good at painting landscapes and farm-houses, but he would not do in the present instance, were he alive. he had no conception of the heroic, sir. we want some person capable of representing our mayor standing under the norman arch of the cathedral.'[ ] at the mention of the heroic john bethought himself of haydon, and suggested his name; hence his visit to london, and his proposed interview with haydon. the two brothers went together to call upon the 'painter of the heroic' at his studio in connaught terrace, hyde park. there was some difficulty about their admission, and it turned out afterwards that haydon thought they might be duns, as he was very hard up at the time. his eyes glistened at the mention of the £ . 'i am not very fond of painting portraits,' he said, 'but a mayor is a mayor, and there is something grand in that idea of the norman arch.' and thus mayor hawkes came to be painted by benjamin haydon, and his portrait may be found, not without diligent search, among the many municipal worthies that figure on the walls of that most picturesque old hall in norwich. here is borrow's description of the painting: the original mayor was a mighty, portly man, with a bull's head, black hair, body like that of a dray horse, and legs and thighs corresponding; a man six foot high at the least. to his bull's head, black hair, and body the painter had done justice; there was one point, however, in which the portrait did not correspond with the original--the legs were disproportionably short, the painter having substituted his own legs for those of the mayor. john borrow described robert hawkes to his brother as a person of many qualifications: --big and portly, with a voice like boanerges; a religious man, the possessor of an immense pew; loyal, so much so that i once heard him say that he would at any time go three miles to hear any one sing 'god save the king'; moreover, a giver of excellent dinners. such is our present mayor, who, owing to his loyalty, his religion, and a little, perhaps, to his dinners, is a mighty favourite. haydon, who makes no mention of the borrows in his _correspondence_ or _autobiography_, although there is one letter of george borrow's to him in the latter work, had been in jail for debt three years prior to the visit of the borrows. he was then at work on his greatest success in 'the heroic'--_the raising of lazarus_, a canvas nineteen feet long by fifteen high. the debt was one to house decorators, for the artist had ever large ideas. the bailiff, he tells us,[ ] was so agitated at the sight of the painting of lazarus in the studio that he cried out, 'oh, my god! sir, i won't arrest you. give me your word to meet me at twelve at the attorney's, and i'll take it.' in haydon married, and a little later we find him again 'without a single shilling in the world--with a large picture before me not half done.' in april he is arrested at the instance of his colourman, 'with whom i had dealt for fifteen years,' and in november of the same year he is arrested again at the instance of 'a miserable apothecary.' in april we find him in the king's bench prison, from which he was released in july. _the raising of lazarus_ meanwhile had gone to pay his upholsterer £ , and his _christ's entry into jerusalem_ had been sold for £ , although it had brought him £ in receipts at exhibitions. clearly heroic pictures did not pay, and haydon here took up 'the torment of portrait-painting' as he called it. [illustration: robert hawkes, mayor of norwich in from the painting by benjamin haydon in st. andrew's hall, norwich. this portrait has its association with borrow in that his brother john was sent to london to request haydon to paint it, and borrow describes the picture in _lavengro_.] 'can you wonder,' he wrote in july , 'that i nauseate portraits, except portraits of clever people. i feel quite convinced that every portrait-painter, if there be purgatory, will leap at once to heaven, without this previous purification.' perhaps it was mayor hawkes who helped to inspire this feeling.[ ] yet the hundred pounds that john borrow was able to procure must have been a godsend, for shortly before this we find him writing in his diary of the desperation that caused him to sell his books. 'books that had cost me £ i got only £ for. but it was better than starvation.' indeed it was in april of this year that the very baker was 'insolent,' and so in may , as we learn from tom taylor's _life_, he produced 'a full-length portrait of mr. hawkes, a late mayor of norwich, painted for st. andrew's hall in that city.' but i must leave haydon's troubled career, which closes so far as the two brothers are concerned with a letter from george to haydon written the following year from bryanston street, portman square: dear sir,--i should feel extremely obliged if you would allow me to sit to you as soon as possible. i am going to the south of france in little better than a fortnight, and i would sooner lose a thousand pounds than not have the honour of appearing in the picture.--yours sincerely, george borrow.[ ] as borrow was at the time in a most impoverished condition, it is not easy to believe that he would have wished to be taken at his word. he certainly had not a thousand pounds to lose. but he did undoubtedly, as we shall see, take that journey on foot through the south of france, after the manner of an earlier vagabond of literature--oliver goldsmith. haydon was to be far too much taken up with his own troubles during the coming months to think any more about the borrows when he had once completed the portrait of the mayor, which he had done by july of this year. borrow's letter to him is, however, an obvious outcome of a remark dropped by the painter on the occasion of his one visit to his studio when the following conversation took place: 'i'll stick to the heroic,' said the painter; 'i now and then dabble in the comic, but what i do gives me no pleasure, the comic is so low; there is nothing like the heroic. i am engaged here on a heroic picture,' said he, pointing to the canvas; 'the subject is "pharaoh dismissing moses from egypt," after the last plague--the death of the first-born,--it is not far advanced--that finished figure is moses': they both looked at the canvas, and i, standing behind, took a modest peep. the picture, as the painter said, was not far advanced, the pharaoh was merely in outline; my eye was, of course, attracted by the finished figure, or rather what the painter had called the finished figure; but, as i gazed upon it, it appeared to me that there was something defective--something unsatisfactory in the figure. i concluded, however, that the painter, notwithstanding what he had said, had omitted to give it the finishing touch. 'i intend this to be my best picture,' said the painter; 'what i want now is a face for pharaoh; i have long been meditating on a face for pharaoh.' here, chancing to cast his eye upon my countenance, of whom he had scarcely taken any manner of notice, he remained with his mouth open for some time, 'who is this?' said he at last. 'oh, this is my brother, i forgot to introduce him----.' we wish that the acquaintance had extended further, but this was not to be. borrow was soon to commence the wanderings which were to give him much unsatisfactory fame, and the pair never met again. let us, however, return to john borrow, who accompanied haydon to norwich, leaving his brother for some time longer to the tender mercies of sir richard phillips. john, we judge, seems to have had plenty of shrewdness, and was not without a sense of his own limitations. a chance came to him of commercial success in a distant land, and he seized that chance. a norwich friend, allday kerrison, had gone out to mexico, and writing from zacatecas in asked john to join him. john accepted. his salary in the service of the real del monte company was to be £ per annum. he sailed for mexico in , having obtained from his colonel, lord orford, leave of absence for a year, it being understood that renewals of that leave of absence might be granted. he was entitled to half-pay as a lieutenant of the west norfolk militia, and this he settled upon his mother during his absence. his career in mexico was a failure. there are many of his letters to his mother and brother extant which tell of the difficulties of his situation. he was in three mexican companies in succession, and was about to be sent to columbia to take charge of a mine when he was stricken with a fever, and died at guanajuato on nd november . he had far exceeded any leave that his colonel could in fairness grant, and before his death his name had been taken off the army rolls. the question of his pay produced a long correspondence, which can be found in the archives of the rolls office. i have the original drafts of these letters in borrow's handwriting. the first letter by borrow is dated th september ; it is better to give the correspondence in its order.[ ] the letters speak for themselves, and require no comment. i to the rt. hon. the secretary at war willow lane, norwich, _september , ._ sir,--i take the liberty of troubling you with these lines for the purpose of enquiring whether there is any objection to the issuing of the disembodied allowance of my brother lieut. john borrow of the welsh norfolk militia, who is at present abroad. i do this by the advice of the army pay office, a power of attorney having been granted to me by lieut. borrow to receive the said allowance for him. i beg leave to add that my brother was present at the last training of his regiment, that he went abroad with the leave of his commanding officer, which leave of absence has never been recalled, that he has sent home the necessary affidavits, and that there is no clause in the pay and clothing act to authorize the stoppage of his allowance. i have the honor to remain, sir, your most obedient, humble servant, george borrow. ii to the right hon. the secretary at war willow lane, norwich, _ th septr. ._ sir,--i have to acknowledge the receipt of no. , , dated th inst., from the war office, in which i am informed that the office does not feel authorized to give instructions for the issue of the arrears of disembodied allowance claimed by my brother lieut. borrow of the west norfolk, until he attend the next training of his regiment, and i now beg leave to ask the following question, and to request that i may receive an answer with all convenient speed. what farther right to his _present_ arrears of disembodied allowance will lieut. borrow's appearance at the _next training_ of his regiment confer upon him, and provided there is no authority at present for ordering the payment of those arrears, by what authority will the war office issue instructions for the payment of the same, after his arrival in this country and attendance at the training? sir, provided lieut. borrow is not entitled to his arrears of disembodied allowance at the present moment, he will be entitled to them at no future period, and i was to the last degree surprised at the receipt of an answer which tends to involve the office in an inextricable dilemma, for it is in fact a full acknowledgment of the justice of lieutenant borrow's claims, and a refusal to satisfy them until a certain time, which instantly brings on the question, 'by what authority does the war office seek to detain the disembodied allowance of an officer, to which he is entitled by act of parliament, a moment after it has become due and is legally demanded?' if it be objected that it is not legally demanded, i reply that the affidavits filled up in the required form are in the possession of the pay office, and also a power of attorney in the spanish language, together with a notarial translation, which power of attorney has been declared by the solicitor of the treasury to be legal and sufficient. to that part of the official letter relating to my brother's appearance at the next training i have to reply, that i believe he is at present lying sick in the mountains above vera cruz, the pest-house of the new world, and that the last time i heard from him i was informed that it would be certain death for him to descend into the level country, even were he capable of the exertion, for the fever was then raging there. full six months have elapsed since he prepared to return to his native country, having received information that there was a probability that his regiment would be embodied, (but) the hand of god overtook him on his route. he is the son, sir, of an officer who served his king abroad and at home for upwards of half a century; he had intended his disembodied allowance for the use of his widowed and infirm mother, but it must now be transmitted to him for his own support until he can arrive in england. but, sir, i do not wish to excite compassion in his behalf, all i request is that he may have justice done him, and if it be, i shall be informed in the next letter, that the necessary order has been given to the pay office for the issue of his arrears. i have the honor to remain, sir, your most obedient, humble servant, george borrow. iii to the right hon. the secretary at war norwich, _novr. , ._ sir,--not having been favoured with an answer to the letter which i last addressed to you concerning the arrears of disembodied allowance due to lieut. john borrow of the west norfolk militia, i again take the liberty of submitting this matter to your consideration. more than six months have elapsed since by virtue of a power of attorney granted to me by lieut. borrow, i made demand at the army pay office for a portion of those arrears, being the amount of two affidavits which were produced, but owing to the much unnecessary demur which ensued, chiefly with respect to the power of attorney, since declared to be valid, that demand has not hitherto been satisfied. i therefore am compelled to beg that an order may be issued to the pay office for the payment to me of the sums specified in the said affidavits, that the amount may be remitted to lieut. borrow, he being at present in great need thereof. if it be answered that lieut. borrow was absent at the last training of his regiment, and that he is not entitled to any arrears of pay, i must beg leave to observe that the demand was legally made many months previous to the said training, and cannot now be set aside by his non-appearance, which arose from unavoidable necessity; he having for the last year been lying sick in one of the provinces of new spain. and now, sir, i will make bold to inquire whether lieut. borrow, the son of an officer, who served his country abroad and at home, for upwards of fifty years, is to lose his commission for being incapable, from a natural visitation, of attending at the training; if it be replied in the affirmative, i have only to add that his case will be a cruelly hard one. but i hope and trust, sir, that taking all these circumstances into consideration you will not _yet_ cause his name to be stricken off the list, and that you will permit him to retain his commission in the event of his arriving in england with all the speed which his health of body will permit, and that to enable him so to do his arrears[ ] you will forthwith give an order for the payment of his arrears. i have the honor to be, sir, your very humble servant, george borrow. iv to the rt. hon. the secretary at war norwich, _decr. , ._ sir,--i have just received a letter from my brother lieutenant j. borrow, from which it appears he has had leave of absence from his colonel, the earl of orford, up to the present year. he says 'in a letter dated wolterton, st june , lord orford writes: "should you want a further leave i will not object to it." th may says: "i am much obliged to you for a letter of the th march, and shall be glad to allow you leave of absence for a twelvemonth." i enclose his last letter from brussels, august , . at the end it gives very evident proof that my remaining in mexico _was not only by his lordship's permission, but even by his advice_. sir, if you should require it i will transmit this last letter of the earl of orford's, which my brother has sent to me, but beg leave to observe that no blame can be attached to his lordship in this case, he having from a multiplicity of important business doubtless forgotten these minor matters. i hope now, sir, that you will have no further objection to issue an order for the payment of that portion of my brother's arrears specified in the two affidavits in the possession of the paymaster general. by the unnecessary obstacles which have been flung in my brother's way in obtaining his arrears he has been subjected to great inconvenience and distress. an early answer on this point will much oblige, sir, your most obedient, humble servant, george borrow. v to the rt. hon. the secretary at war willow lane, norwich, _may , ._ sir,--i take the liberty of addressing you for the purpose of requesting that an order be given to the paymaster general for the issue of the arrears of pay of my brother lieutenant john borrow of the west norfolk militia, whose agent i am by virtue of certain powers of attorney, and also for the continuance of the payment of his disembodied allowance. lieutenant borrow was not present at the last training of his regiment, being in mexico at the time, and knowing nothing of the matter. i beg leave to observe that no official nor other letter was dispatched to him by the adjutant to give him notice of the event, nor was i, his agent, informed of it, he therefore cannot have forfeited his arrears and disembodied allowance. he was moreover for twelve months previous to the training, and still is, so much indisposed from the effects of an attack of the yellow fever, that his return would be attended with great danger, which can be proved by the certificate of a medical gentleman practising in norwich, who was consulted from mexico. lieutenants harper and williams, of the same regiment, have recovered their pay and arrears, although absent at the last training, therefore it is clear and manifest that no objection can be made to lieut. borrow's claim, who went abroad with his commanding officer's permission, which those gentlemen did not. in conclusion i have to add that i have stated nothing which i cannot substantiate, and that i court the most minute scrutiny into the matter. i have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient and most humble servant, george borrow. [illustration: george borrow from a portrait by his brother john thomas borrow taken in early youth when his hair was black. this portrait is now in the national portrait gallery, london.] the last of these letters is in another handwriting than that of borrow, who by this time had started for st. petersburg for the bible society. the officials were adamant. to one letter the war office replied that they could not consider any claims until lieutenant borrow of the west norfolk militia should have arrived in england to attend the training of his regiment. these five letters are, as we have said, in the rolls office, although the indefatigable professor knapp seems to have dropped across only two of them there. their chief interest is in that they are the earliest in order of date of the hitherto known letters of borrow. there is one further letter on the subject written somewhat later by old mrs. borrow. she also appeals to the war office for her son's allowance.[ ] it would seem clear that the arrears were never paid. to the rt. hon. the earl of orford willow lane, norwich, _ may ._ my lord,--i a few days since received the distressing intelligence of the death of my dear son john, a lieutenant in your lordship's west norfolk regiment of militia, after the sufferings of a protracted and painful illness; the melancholy event took place on the nd november last at guanajuato in mexico. having on the former irreparable loss of my dear husband experienced your lordship's kindness, i am induced to trespass on your goodness in a like case of heavy affliction, by requesting that you will be pleased to make the necessary application to the secretary at war to authorise me to receive the arrears of pay due to my late son, viz.: ten months to the period of the training, and from that time to the day of his decease, for which i am informed it is requisite to have your lordship's certificate of leave of absence from the said training. the amount is a matter of great importance to me in my very limited circumstances, having been at considerable expense in fitting him out, which, though at the time it occasioned me much pecuniary inconvenience, i thought it my duty to exert all my means to accomplish, my present distress of mind is the greater having to struggle with my feelings without the consolation and advice of my son george, who is at this time at st. petersburg. your lordship will, i trust, pardon the liberty i am taking, and the trouble i am giving, and allow for the feelings of an afflicted mother. i have the honor to be your lordship's most obedient servant, ann borrow. i have said that there are letters of john borrow's extant. fragments of these will be found in dr. knapp's book. these show a keen intelligence, great practicality, and common sense. george--in --had asked his brother as to joining him in mexico. 'if the country is soon settled i shall say "yes,"' john answers. with equal wisdom he says to his brother, 'do not enter the army; it is a bad spec.' in this same year, , john writes to ask whether his mother and brother are 'still living in that windy house of old king's; it gives me the rheumatism to think of it.' in he writes to his mother that he wishes his brother were making money. 'neither he nor i have any luck, he works hard and remains poor.' in february of john writes to george suggesting that he should endeavour to procure a commission in the regiment, and in july of the same year to try the law again: i am convinced that your want of success in life is more owing to your being unlike other people than to any other cause. john, as we have seen, died in mexico of fever. george was at st. petersburg working for the bible society when his mother writes from norwich to tell him the news. john had died on nd november . 'you are now my only hope,' she writes, '... do not grieve, my dear george. i trust we shall all meet in heaven. put a crape on your hat for some time.' had george borrow's brother lived it might have meant very much in his life. there might have been nephews and nieces to soften the asperity of his later years. who can say? meanwhile, _lavengro_ contains no happier pages than those concerned with this dearly loved brother. [illustration: george borrow's birthplace at dumpling green _from a drawing by fortunino matania_] footnotes: [ ] i am not able to trace more than three of john borrow's pictures: firstly, a portrait of george borrow, reproduced in this book, which was long in the possession of mr. william jarrold, the well-known publisher of norwich, and is now in the national portrait gallery in london, having been purchased by the director in ; secondly, the portrait of borrow's father in the possession of a lady at leamington; and thirdly, _the judgment of solomon_, which for a long time hung as an overmantel in the borrow home in willow lane, norwich. dr. knapp also saw in norwich 'a portrait of a gentleman,' by john borrow. a second portrait of george borrow by his brother was taken by the latter to mexico, and has not since been heard of. [ ] _lavengro_, ch. xxv. [ ] _life of b. r. haydon_, by tom taylor, , vol. ii. p. . [ ] or perhaps the experience contained in a letter to miss mitford in (_benjamin robert haydon: correspondence and table talk_, vols., ): 'i have had a horrid week with a mother and eight daughters! mamma _remembering_ herself a beauty; sally and betsey, etc., see her a matron. they say, "oh! this is more suitable to mamma's age," and "that fits mamma's time of life!" but mamma does not agree. betsey, and sally, and eliza, and patty want "mamma"! mamma wants herself as she looked when she was betsey's age, and papa fell in love with her. so i am distracted to death. i have a great mind to paint her with a long beard like salvator, and say, "that's _my_ idea of a fit accompaniment."' [ ] _benjamin robert haydon: correspondence and table talk_, with a memoir by his son frederic wordsworth haydon, vol. i. pp. - . [ ] from what are called the 'war office weeded papers, old series, no. , / ,' and succeeding numbers. [ ] ('his arrears' are ruled out.) note by war office. [ ] this letter is from the original among the borrow papers in my possession. chapter iv a wandering childhood we do not need to inquire too deeply as to borrow's possible gypsy origin in order to account for his vagabond propensities. the lives of his parents before his birth, and the story of his own boyhood, sufficiently account for the dominant tendency in borrow. his father and mother were married in . almost every year they changed their domicile. in a son was born to them--they still continued to change their domicile. captain borrow followed his regiment from place to place, and his family accompanied him on these journeys. dover, colchester, sandgate, canterbury, chelmsford--these are some of the towns where the borrows sojourned. it was the merest accident--the peace of amiens, to be explicit--that led them back to east dereham in , so that the second son was born in his grandfather's house. george was only a month old when he was carried off to colchester; in he was in the barracks of kent, in of sussex, in at hastings, in at canterbury, and so on. the indefatigable dr. knapp has recorded every detail for all who love the minute, the meticulous, in biography. the whole of the first thirteen years of borrow's life is filled up in this way, until in he and his parents found a home of some permanence in norwich. in - they were at east dereham, in - at norman cross, in wandering from harwich to sheffield, and in wandering from sheffield to edinburgh; in they were in norwich, and in - in ireland. in this last year they returned to norwich, the father to retire on full pay, and to live in willow lane until his death. how could a boy, whose first twelve years of life had been made up of such continual wandering, have been other than a restless, nomad-loving man, envious of the free life of the gypsies, for whom alone in later life he seemed to have kindliness? those twelve years are to most boys merely the making of a moral foundation for good or ill; to borrow they were everything, and at least four personalities captured his imagination during that short span, as we see if we follow his juvenile wanderings more in detail to dereham, norman cross, edinburgh, and clonmel, and the personalities are lady fenn, ambrose smith, david haggart, and murtagh. let us deal with each in turn: a. east dereham and lady fenn.--in our opening chapter we referred to the lines in _lavengro_, where borrow recalls his early impressions of his native town, or at least the town in the neighbourhood of the hamlet in which he was born. borrow, we may be sure, would have repudiated 'dumpling green' if he could. the name had a humorous suggestion. to this day they call boys from norfolk 'norfolk dumplings' in the neighbouring shires. but east dereham was something to be proud of. in it had died the writer who, through the greater part of borrow's life, remained the favourite poet of that half of england which professed the evangelical creed in which borrow was brought up. cowper was buried here by the side of mary unwin, and every sunday little george would see his tomb just as henry kingsley was wont to see the tombs in chelsea old church. the fervour of devotion to cowper's memory that obtained in those early days must have been a stimulus to the boy, who from the first had ambitions far beyond anything that he was to achieve. here was his first lesson. the second came from lady fenn--a more vivid impression for the child. twenty years before borrow was born cowper had sung her merits in his verse. she and her golden-headed cane are commemorated in _lavengro_. dame eleanor fenn had made a reputation in her time. as 'mrs. teachwell' and 'mrs. lovechild' she had published books for the young of a most improving character, _the child's grammar_, _the mother's grammar_, _a short history of insects_, and _cobwebs to catch flies_ being of the number. the forty-fourth edition of _the child's grammar_ by mrs. lovechild appeared in , and the twenty-second edition of _the mother's grammar_ in . but it is her husband that her name most recalls to us. sir john fenn gave us the delightful paston letters--of which horace walpole said that 'they make all other letters not worth reading.' walpole described 'mr. fenn of east dereham in norfolk' as 'a smatterer in antiquity, but a very good sort of man.' fenn, who held the original documents of the letters, sent his first two volumes, when published, to buckingham palace, and the king acknowledged the gifts by knighting the editor, who, however, died in , before george borrow was born. his widow survived until , and borrow was in his seventh or eighth year when he caught these notable glimpses of his 'lady bountiful,' who lived in 'the half-aristocratic mansion' of the town. but we know next to nothing of borrow in east dereham, from which indeed he departed in his eighth year. there are, however, interesting references to his memories of the place in _lavengro_. the first is where he recalls to his author friend, who had offered him comet wine of , his recollection of gazing at the comet from the market-place of 'pretty d----' in .[ ] the second reference is when he goes to church with the gypsies and dreams of an incident in his childhood: it appeared as if i had fallen asleep in the pew of the old church of pretty dereham. i had occasionally done so when a child, and had suddenly woke up. yes, surely, i had been asleep and had woke up; but no! if i had been asleep i had been waking in my sleep, struggling, striving, learning and unlearning in my sleep. years had rolled away whilst i had been asleep--ripe fruit had fallen, green fruit had come on whilst i had been asleep--how circumstances had altered, and above all myself whilst i had been asleep. no, i had not been asleep in the old church! i was in a pew, it is true, but not the pew of black leather in which i sometimes fell asleep in days of yore, but in a strange pew; and then my companions, they were no longer those of days of yore. i was no longer with my respectable father and mother, and my dear brother, but with the gypsy cral and his wife, and the gigantic tawno, the antinous of the dusky people. and what was i myself? no longer an innocent child but a moody man, bearing in my face, as i knew well, the marks of my strivings and strugglings; of what i had learnt and unlearnt. but borrow, as i have said, left dereham in his eighth year, and the author of a _history of east dereham_ thus accounts for several inaccuracies in his memory, both as to persons and things. b. norman cross and ambrose smith.--in _lavengro_ borrow recalls childish memories of canterbury and of hythe, at which latter place he saw the church vault filled with ancient skulls as we may see it there to-day. and after that the book which impressed itself most vividly upon his memory was _robinson crusoe_. how much he came to revere defoe the pages of _lavengro_ most eloquently reveal to us. 'hail to thee, spirit of defoe! what does not my own poor self owe to thee?' in - his father was in the barracks at norman cross in huntingdonshire. here the government had bought a large tract of land, and built upon it a huge wooden prison, and overlooking this a substantial barrack also of wood, the only brick building on the land being the house of the commandant. the great building was destined for the soldiers taken prisoners in the french wars. the place was constructed to hold prisoners, and men were employed by the war office in upon its construction. the first batch of prisoners were the victims of the battle of vimeiro in that year. borrow's description of the hardships of the prisoners has been called in question by a later writer, arthur brown,[ ] who denies the story of bad food and 'straw-plait hunts,' and charges borrow with recklessness of statement. 'what could have been the matter with the man to write such stuff as this?' asks brown in reference to borrow's story of bad meat and bad bread: which was not treating a great author with quite sufficient reverence. borrow was but recalling memories of childhood, a period when one swallow does make a summer. he had doubtless seen examples of what he described, although it may not have been the normal condition of things. brown's own description of the norman cross prison was interwoven with a love romance, in which a french officer fell in love with a girl of the neighbouring village of yaxley, and after waterloo returned to england and married her. when he wrote his story a very old man was still living at yaxley, who remembered, as a boy, having often seen the prisoners on the road, some very well dressed, some in tatters, a few in uniform. the milestone is still pointed out which marked the limit beyond which the officer-prisoners might not walk. the buildings were destroyed in , when all the prisoners were sent home, and the house of the commandant, now a private residence, alone remains to recall this episode in our history. but borrow's most vivid memory of norman cross was connected with the viper given to him by an old man, who had rendered it harmless by removing the fangs. it was the possession of this tame viper that enabled the child of eight--this was borrow's age at the time--to impress the gypsies that he met soon afterwards, and particularly the boy ambrose smith, whom borrow introduced to the world in _lavengro_ as jasper petulengro. borrow's frequent meetings with petulengro[ ] are no doubt many of them mythical. he was an imaginative writer, and dr. knapp's worst banality is to suggest that he 'invented nothing.' but petulengro was a very real person, who lived the usual roving gypsy life. there is no reason to assume otherwise than that borrow did actually meet him at norman cross when he was eight years old, and ambrose a year younger, and not thirteen as borrow states. in the original manuscript of _lavengro_ in my possession, as in the copy of it in mrs. borrow's handwriting that came into the possession of dr. knapp, 'ambrose' is given instead of 'jasper,' and the name was altered as an afterthought. it is of course possible that borrow did not actually meet jasper until his arrival in norwich, for in the first half of the nineteenth century various gypsy families were in the habit of assembling their carts and staking their tents on the heights above norwich, known as mousehold heath, that glorious tract of country that has been rendered memorable in history by the tragic life of kett the tanner, and has been immortalised in painting by turner and crome. here were assembled the smiths and hernes and boswells, names familiar to every student of gypsy lore. jasper petulengro, as borrow calls him, or ambrose smith, to give him his real name, was the son of f[=a]den smith, and his name of ambrose was derived from his uncle, ambrose smith, who was transported for stealing harness. ambrose was twice married, and it was his second wife, sanspirella herne, who comes into the borrow story. he had families by both his wives. ambrose had an extraordinary varied career. it will be remembered by readers of the _zincali_ that when he visited borrow at oulton in he complained that 'there is no living for the poor people, brother, the chokengres (police) pursue us from place to place, and the gorgios are become either so poor or miserly that they grudge our cattle a bite of grass by the wayside, and ourselves a yard of ground to light a fire upon.' after a time ambrose left the eastern counties and crossed to ireland. in he went to scotland, and there seems to have revived his fortunes. in he and his family were encamped at knockenhair park, about a mile from dunbar. here queen victoria, who was staying at broxmouth park near by with the dowager duchess of roxburghe, became interested in the gypsies, and paid them a visit.[ ] this was in the summer of . ambrose was then a very old man. he died in the following october. his wife, sanspi or sanspirella, received a message of sympathy from the queen. very shortly after ambrose's death, however, most of the family went off to america, where doubtless they are now scattered, many of them, it may be, leading successful lives, utterly oblivious of the association of one of their ancestors with borrow and his great book. ambrose smith was buried in dunbar cemetery, the christian service being read over his grave, and his friends erected a stone to him which bears the following inscription, the hymn not being very accurately rendered: in memory of ambrose smith, who died nd october , aged years. also thomas, his son, who died th may , aged years. 'nearer my father's house, where the many mansions be; nearer the great white throne, nearer the jasper sea. 'nearer the bound of life where we lay our burdens down; nearer leaving the cross, nearer gaining the crown. 'feel thee near me when my feet are slipping over the brink; for it may be i'm nearer home, nearer now than i think.'[ ] in december a london newspaper contained an account of a gypsy meeting at which jasper petulengro was present. not only was this obviously impossible, but no relative of ambrose smith is apparently alive in england who could by any chance have justified the imposition. i have said that it is probable that borrow did not meet jasper or ambrose until later days in norwich. i assume this as possible because borrow misstates the age of his boy friend in _lavengro_. ambrose was actually a year younger than borrow, whereas when george was eight years of age he represents ambrose as 'a lad of some twelve or thirteen years,' and he keeps up this illusion on more than one later occasion. however, we may take it as almost certain that borrow received his first impression of the gypsies in these early days at norman cross. c. edinburgh and david haggart.--three years separated the sojourn of the borrow family at norman cross from their sojourn in edinburgh--three years of continuous wandering. the west norfolk militia were watching the french prisoners at norman cross for fifteen months. after that we have glimpses of them at colchester, at east dereham again, at harwich, at leicester, at huddersfield, concerning which place borrow incidentally in _wild wales_ writes of having been at school, in sheffield, in berwick-on-tweed, and finally the family are in edinburgh, where they arrive on th april . we have already referred to borrow's presence at the high school of edinburgh, the school sanctified by association with walter scott and so many of his illustrious fellow-countrymen. he and his brother were at the high school for a single session, that is, for the winter session of - , although with the licence of a maker of fiction he claimed, in _lavengro_, to have been there for two years. but it is not in this brief period of schooling of a boy of ten that we find the strongest influence that edinburgh gave to borrow. rather may we seek it in the acquaintanceship with the once too notorious david haggart. seven years later than this all the peoples of the three kingdoms were discussing david haggart, the scots jack sheppard, the clever young prison-breaker, who was hanged at edinburgh in for killing his jailer in dumfries prison. how much david haggart filled the imagination of every one who could read in the early years of last century is demonstrated by a reference to the library catalogue of the british museum, where we find pamphlet after pamphlet, broadsheet after broadsheet, treating of the adventures, trial, and execution of this youthful jailbird. even george combe, the phrenologist, most famous in his day, sat in judgment upon the young man while he was in prison, and published a pamphlet which made a great impression upon prison reformers. combe submitted his observations to haggart in jail, and told the prisoner indeed that he had a greater development of the organs of benevolence and justice than he had anticipated. there cannot be a doubt but that combe started in a measure, through his treatment of this case, the theory that many of our methods of punishment led to the making of habitual criminals.[ ] but by far the most valuable publication with regard to haggart is one that borrow must have read in his youth. this was a life of haggart written by himself,[ ] a little book that had a wide circulation, and containing a preface by george robertson, writer to the signet, dated edinburgh, th july . mr. robertson tells us that a portion of the story was written by haggart, and the remainder taken down from his dictation. the profits of this book, haggart arranged, were to go in part to the school of the jail in which he was confined, and part to be devoted to the welfare of his younger brothers and sister. from this little biography we learn that haggart was born in golden acre, near canon-mills, in the county of edinburgh in , his father, john haggart, being a gamekeeper, and in later years a dog-trainer. the boy was at school under mr. robin gibson at canon-mills for two years. he left school at ten years of age, and from that time until his execution seems to have had a continuous career of thieving. he tells us that before he was eleven years old he had stolen a bantam cock from a woman belonging to the new town of edinburgh. he went with another boy to currie, six miles from edinburgh, and there stole a pony, but this was afterwards returned. when but twelve years of age he attended leith races, and it was here that he enlisted in the norfolk militia, then stationed in edinburgh castle. this may very well have brought him into contact with borrow in the way described in _lavengro_. he was only, however, in the regiment for a year, for when it was sent back to england the colonel in command of it obtained young haggart's discharge. these dates coincide with borrow's presence in edinburgh. haggart's history for the next five or six years was in truth merely that of a wandering pickpocket, sometimes in scotland, sometimes in england, and finally he became a notorious burglar. incidentally he refers to a girl with whom he was in love. her name was mary hill she belonged to ecclefechan, which haggart more than once visited. he must therefore have known carlyle, who had not then left his native village. in we find him in edinburgh, carrying on the same sort of depredations both there and at leith--now he steals a silk plaid, now a greatcoat, and now a silver teapot. these thefts, of course, landed him in jail, out of which he breaks rather dramatically, fleeing with a companion to kelso. he had, indeed, more than one experience of jail. finally, we find him in the prison of dumfries destined to stand his trial for 'one act of house-breaking, eleven cases of theft, and one of prison-breaking.' while in prison at dumfries he planned another escape, and in the attempt to hit a jailer named morrin on the head with a stone he unexpectedly killed him. his escape from dumfries jail after this murder, and his later wanderings, are the most dramatic part of his book. he fled through carlisle to newcastle, and then thought that he would be safer if he returned to scotland, where he found the rewards that were offered for his arrest faced him wherever he went. he turned up again in edinburgh, where he seems to have gone about freely, although reading everywhere the notices that a reward of seventy guineas was offered for his apprehension. then he fled to ireland, where he thought that his safety was assured. at dromore he was arrested and brought before the magistrate, but he spoke with an irish brogue, and declared that his name was john mccolgan, and that he came from armagh. he escaped from dromore jail by jumping through a window, and actually went so far as to pay three pound ten shillings for his passage to america, but he was afraid of the sea, and changed his mind, and lost his passage money at the last moment. after this he made a tour right through ireland, in spite of the fact that the dublin _hue and cry_ had a description of his person which he read more than once. his assurance was such that in tullamore he made a pig-driver apologise before the magistrate for charging him with theft, although he had been living on nothing else all the time he was in ireland. finally, he was captured, being recognised by a policeman from edinburgh. he was brought from ireland to dumfries, landed in calton jail, edinburgh, and was tried and executed. in addition to composing this biography haggart wrote while in edinburgh jail a rather long set of verses, of which i give the following two as specimens (the original autograph is in lord cockburn's copy in the british museum): able and willing, you all will find though bound in chains, still free in mind, for with these things i'll ne'er be grieved although of freedom i'm bereaved. now for the crime that i'm condemn'd, the same i never did intend, only my liberty to take, as i thought my life did lie at stake. d. ireland and murtagh.--we may pass over the brief sojourn in norwich that was borrow's lot in , when the west norfolk militia left scotland. when napoleon escaped from elba the west norfolk regiment was despatched to ireland, and captain borrow again took his family with him. we find the boy with his family at clonmel from may to december of . here borrow's elder brother, now a boy of fifteen, was promoted from ensign to lieutenant, gaining in a year, as dr. knapp reminds us, a position that it had taken his father twelve years to attain. in january the borrows moved to templemore, returning to england in may of that year. borrow, we see, was less than a year in ireland, and he was only thirteen years of age when he left the country. but it seems to have been the greatest influence that guided his career. three of the most fascinating chapters in _lavengro_ were one outcome of that brief sojourn, a thirst for the acquirement of languages was another, and perhaps a taste for romancing a third. borrow never came to have the least sympathy with the irish race, or its national aspirations. as the son of a half-educated soldier he did not come in contact with any but the vagabond element of ireland, exactly as his father had done before him.[ ] captain borrow was asked on one occasion what language is being spoken: 'irish,' said my father with a loud voice, 'and a bad language it is.... there's one part of london where all the irish live--at least the worst of them--and there they hatch their villainies to speak this tongue.' and borrow followed his father's prejudices throughout his life, although in the one happy year in which he wrote _the bible in spain_ he was able to do justice to the country that had inspired so much of his work: honour to ireland and her 'hundred thousand welcomes'! her fields have long been the greenest in the world; her daughters the fairest; her sons the bravest and most eloquent. may they never cease to be so.[ ] in later years orangemen were to him the only attractive element in the life of ireland, and we may be sure that he was not displeased when his stepdaughter married one of them. yet the creator of literature works more wisely than he knows, and borrow's books have won the wise and benign appreciation of many an irish and roman catholic reader, whose nationality and religion borrow would have anathematised. irishmen may forgive borrow much, because he was one of the first of modern english writers to take their language seriously.[ ] it is true that he had but the most superficial knowledge of it. he admits--in _wild wales_--that he only knew it 'by ear.' the abundant irish literature that has been so diligently studied during the last quarter of a century was a closed book to borrow, whose few translations from the irish have but little value. yet the very appreciation of irish as a language to be seriously studied in days before dr. sigerson, dr. douglas hyde, and dr. kuno meyer had waxed enthusiastic and practical kindles our gratitude. then what a character is murtagh. we are sure there was a murtagh, although, unlike borrow's other boyish and vagabond friend haggart, we know nothing about him but what borrow has to tell. yet what a picture is this where murtagh wants a pack of cards: 'i say, murtagh!' 'yes, shorsha dear!' 'i have a pack of cards.' 'you don't say so, shorsha ma vourneen?--you don't say that you have cards fifty-two?' 'i do, though; and they are quite new--never been once used.' 'and you'll be lending them to me, i warrant?' 'don't think it!--but i'll sell them to you, joy, if you like.' 'hanam mon dioul! am i not after telling you that i have no money at all?' 'but you have as good as money, to me, at least; and i'll take it in exchange.' 'what's that, shorsha dear?' 'irish!' 'irish?' 'yes, you speak irish; i heard you talking it the other day to the cripple. you shall teach me irish.' 'and is it a language-master you'd be making of me?' 'to be sure!--what better can you do?--it would help you to pass your time at school. you can't learn greek, so you must teach irish!' before christmas, murtagh was playing at cards with his brother denis, and i could speak a considerable quantity of broken irish.[ ] with what distrust as we learn again and again in _lavengro_ did captain borrow follow his son's inclination towards languages, and especially the irish language, in his early years, although seeing that he was well grounded in latin. little did the worthy captain dream that this, and this alone, was to carry down his name through the ages: ah, that irish! how frequently do circumstances, at first sight the most trivial and unimportant, exercise a mighty and permanent influence on our habits and pursuits!--how frequently is a stream turned aside from its natural course by some little rock or knoll, causing it to make an abrupt turn! on a wild road in ireland i had heard irish spoken for the first time; and i was seized with a desire to learn irish, the acquisition of which, in my case, became the stepping-stone to other languages. i had previously learnt latin, or rather lilly; but neither latin nor lilly made me a philologist. borrow was never a philologist, but this first inclination was to lead him to spanish, to welsh, and above all to romany, and to make of him the most beloved traveller and the strangest vagabond in all english literature. footnotes: [ ] this episode, rescued from the manuscript that came into dr. knapp's possession, is only to be found in his _life of borrow_. he does not include it in his edition of _lavengro_. that borrow revisited east dereham in later manhood we learn from mr. s. h. baldrey. see p. . [ ] _the french prisoners of norman cross: a tale_, by the rev. arthur brown, rector of catfield, norfolk. london: hodder brothers, new bridge street, e.c., . mr. brown remarks that there were sixteen casernes, whereas borrow says in _lavengro_ that there were five or six. 'they looked,' he says, 'from outside exactly like a vast congeries of large, high carpenter's shops, with roofs of glaring red tiles, and surrounded by wooden palisades, very lofty and of prodigious strength.' [ ] the _journal of the gypsy lore society_ teaches me that the name should be spelt pétulengro. [ ] see _in gipsy tents_ by francis hindes groome, p. . the late queen herself writes (_more leaves from the journal of a life in the highlands_, smith, elder and co., , p. ), under the date monday, august th: 'at half-past three started with beatrice, leopold, and the duchess in the landau and four, the duke, lady ely, general ponsonby, and mr. yorke going in the second carriage, and lord haddington riding the whole way. we drove through the west part of dunbar, which was very full, and where we were literally pelted with small nosegays, till the carriage was full of them; then for some distance past the village of belhaven, knockindale hill (knockenhair park), where were stationed in their best attire the queen of the gypsies, an oldish woman with a yellow handkerchief on her head, and a youngish, very dark, and truly gypsy-like woman in velvet and a red shawl, and another woman. the queen is a thorough gypsy, with a scarlet cloak and a yellow handkerchief around her head. men in red hunting-coats, all very dark, and all standing on a platform here, bowed and waved their handkerchiefs. george smith told mr. myers that "the queen" was sanspirella, that the "gypsy-like woman in velvet and a red shawl" was bidi, and the other woman delaia. the men were ambrose, tommy, and alfred.' [ ] i am indebted to an admirable article by thomas william thompson in the _journal of the gypsy lore society_, new series, vol. iii, no, , january , for information concerning the later life of jasper pétulengro. [ ] _phrenological observations on the cerebral development of david haggart, who was lately executed at edinburgh for murder, and whose life has since been published._ by george combe, esq. edinburgh: w. and c. tait, . [ ] _the life of david haggart, alias john wilson, alias john morison, alias barney mccone, alias john mccolgan, alias daniel o'brien, alias the switcher_, written by himself while under sentence of death. edinburgh: printed for w. and c. tait by james ballantyne and co., . in the british museum library there is a copy with an autograph note by lord cockburn on the fly-leaf, which runs as follows: 'this youngster was my client when he was tried and convicted. he was a great villain. his life is almost all lies, and its chief curiosity consists in the strange spirit of lying, the indulgence of which formed his chief pleasure to the very last. the manuscript poem and picture of himself (bound up at the end of the _life_) were truly composed and written by him. being an enormous miscreant the phrenologists got hold of him, and made the notorious facts of his character into evidence of the truth of their system. he affected some decent poetry just before he was hanged, and therefore the saints took up his memory and wrote monodies on him. his piety and the composition of the lies in this book broke out at the same time. h. c.' [ ] although captain borrow was never as ignorant as one or two of borrow's biographers, who call the irish language 'erse.' [ ] _the bible in spain_, ch. xx. [ ] dr. johnson was the first as borrow was the second to earn this distinction. johnson, as reported by boswell, says: '_i have long wished that the irish literature were cultivated. ireland is known by tradition to have been once the seat of piety and learning, and surely it would be very acceptable to all those who are curious on the origin of nations or the affinities of languages to be further informed of the evolution of a people so ancient and once so illustrious. i hope that you will continue to cultivate this kind of learning which has too long been neglected, and which, if it be suffered to remain in oblivion for another century, may perhaps never be retrieved._' [ ] _lavengro._ chapter v george borrow's norwich--the gurneys norwich may claim to be one of the most fascinating cities in the kingdom. to-day it is known to the wide world by its canaries and its mustard, although its most important industry is the boot trade, in which it employs some eight thousand persons. to the visitor it has many attractions. the lovely cathedral with its fine norman arches, the erpingham gate so splendidly gothic, the noble castle keep so imposingly placed with the cattle-market below--these are all as borrow saw them nearly a century ago. so also is the church of st. peter mancroft, where sir thomas browne lies buried. and to the picturesque mousehold heath you may still climb and recall one of the first struggles for liberty and progress that past ages have seen, the norfolk rising under robert kett which has only not been glorified in song and in picture, because-- treason doth never prosper--what's the reason? why if it prosper none dare call it treason. and kett's so-called rebellion was destined to failure, and its leader to cruel martyrdom. mousehold heath has been made the subject of paintings by turner and crome, and of fine word pictures by george borrow. when borrow and his parents lighted upon norwich in and the city had inspiring literary associations. before the invention of railways it seemed not uncommon for a fine intellectual life to emanate from this or that cathedral city. such an intellectual life was associated with lichfield when the darwins and the edgeworths gathered at the bishop's palace around dr. seward and his accomplished daughters. norwich has more than once been such a centre. the first occasion was in the period of which we write, when the taylors and the gurneys flourished in a region of ideas; the second was during the years from to , when edward stanley held the bishopric. this later period does not come into our story, as by that time borrow had all but left norwich. but of the earlier period, the period of borrow's more or less fitful residence in norwich-- to --we are tempted to write at some length. there were three separate literary and social forces in norwich in the first decades of the nineteenth century--the gurneys of earlham, the taylor-austin group, and william taylor, who was in no way related to mrs. john taylor and her daughter, sarah austin. the gurneys were truly a remarkable family, destined to leave their impress upon norwich and upon a wider world. at the time of his marriage in to catherine bell, john gurney, wool-stapler of norwich, took his young wife, whose face has been preserved in a canvas by gainsborough, to live in the old court house in magdalen street, which had been the home of two generations of the gurney family. in john gurney went with his continually growing family to live at earlham hall, some two or three miles out of norwich on the earlham road. here that family of eleven children--one boy had died in infancy--grew up. not one but has an interesting history, which is recorded by mr. augustus hare and other writers.[ ] elizabeth, the fourth daughter, married joseph fry, and as elizabeth fry attained to a world-wide fame as a prison reformer. hannah married sir thomas fowell buxton of slave trade abolition; richenda, the rev. francis cunningham, who sent george borrow upon his career; while louisa married samuel hoare of hampstead. of her joseph john gurney said at her death in that she was 'superior in point of talent to any other of my father's eleven children.' it is with the eleventh child, however, that we have mainly to do, for this son, joseph john gurney, alone appears in borrow's pages. the picture of these eleven quaker children growing up to their various destinies under the roof of earlham hall is an attractive one. men and women of all creeds accepted the catholic quaker's hospitality. mrs. opie and a long list of worthies of the past come before us, and when mr. gurney, in , took his six unmarried daughters to the lakes old crome accompanied them as drawing-master. there is, however, one picture in the story of unforgettable charm, the episode of the courtship of elizabeth gurney by joseph fry, and this i must quote from mr. augustus hare's pleasant book: mr. fry had no intention of exposing himself to the possibility of a refusal. he bought a very handsome gold watch and chain, and laid it down upon a white seat--the white seat which still exists--in the garden at earlham. 'if betsy takes up that watch,' he said, 'it is a sign that she accepts me: if she does not take it up by a particular hour, it will show that i must leave earlham.' the six sisters concealed themselves in six laurel-bushes in different parts of the grounds to watch. one can imagine their intense curiosity and anxiety. at last the tall, graceful betsy, her flaxen hair now hidden under a quaker cap, shyly emerged upon the gravel walk. she seemed scarcely conscious of her surroundings, as if, 'on the wings of prayer, she was being wafted into the unseen.' but she reached the garden seat, and there, in the sunshine, lay the glittering new watch. the sight of it recalled her to earth. she could not, could not, take it, and fled swiftly back to the house. but the six sisters remained in their laurel-bushes. they felt sure she would revoke, and they did not watch in vain. an hour elapsed, in which her father urged her, and in which conscience seemed to drag her forwards. once again did the anxious sisters see betsy emerge from the house, with more faltering steps this time, but still inwardly praying, and slowly, tremblingly, they saw her take up the watch, and the deed was done. she never afterwards regretted it, though it was a bitter pang to her when she collected her eighty-six children in the garden at earlham and bade them farewell, and though she wrote in her journal as a bride, 'i cried heartily on leaving norwich; the very stones in the street were dear to me.' in --the year of borrow's birth--john gurney became a partner in the great london bank of overend and gurney, and his son, joseph john, in that same year went up to oxford. in joseph returned to take his place in the bank, and to preside over the family of unmarried sisters at earlham, father and mother being dead, and many members of the family distributed. incidentally, we are told by mr. hare that the gurneys of earlham at this time drove out with four black horses, and that when bishop bathurst, stanley's predecessor, required horses for state occasions to drive him to the cathedral, he borrowed these, and the more modest episcopal horses took the quaker family to their meeting-house. it does not come within the scope of this book, discursive as i choose to make it, to trace the fortunes of these eleven remarkable gurney children, or even of borrow's momentary acquaintance, joseph john gurney. his residence at earlham, and his life of philanthropy, are a romance in a way, although one wonders whether if the name of gurney had not been associated with so much of virtue and goodness the crash that came long after joseph john gurney's death would have been quite so full of affliction for a vast multitude. joseph john gurney died in , in his fifty-ninth year; his sister, mrs. fry, had died two years earlier. the younger brother and twelfth child--joseph john being the eleventh--daniel gurney, the last of the twelve children, lived till , aged eighty-nine. he had outlived by many years the catastrophe to the great banking firm with which the name of gurney is associated. this great firm of overend and gurney, of which yet another brother, samuel, was the moving spirit, was organised nine years after his death--in --into a joint-stock company, which failed to the amount of eleven millions in . at the time of the failure, which affected all england, much as did the liberator smash a generation later, the only gurney in the directorate was daniel gurney, to whom his sister, lady buxton, allowed a pension of £ a year. this is a long story to tell by way of introduction to one episode in _lavengro_. dr. knapp places this episode in the year , when borrow was but fourteen years of age and gurney was twenty-nine. i need not apologise at this point for a very lengthy quotation from a familiar book: at some distance from the city, behind a range of hilly ground which rises towards the south-west, is a small river, the waters of which, after many meanderings, eventually enter the principal river of the district, and assist to swell the tide which it rolls down to the ocean. it is a sweet rivulet, and pleasant it is to trace its course from its spring-head, high up in the remote regions of eastern anglia, till it arrives in the valley behind yon rising ground; and pleasant is that valley, truly a good spot, but most lovely where yonder bridge crosses the little stream. beneath its arch the waters rush garrulously into a blue pool, and are there stilled for a time, for the pool is deep, and they appear to have sunk to sleep. farther on, however, you hear their voice again, where they ripple gaily over yon gravelly shallow. on the left the hill slopes gently down to the margin of the stream. on the right is a green level, a smiling meadow, grass of the richest decks the side of the slope; mighty trees also adorn it, giant elms, the nearest of which, when the sun is nigh its meridian, fling a broad shadow upon the face of the pool; through yon vista you catch a glimpse of the ancient brick of an old english hall. it has a stately look, that old building, indistinctly seen, as it is, among those umbrageous trees; you might almost suppose it an earl's home; and such it was, or rather upon its site stood an earl's home, in days of old, for there some old kemp, some sigurd, or thorkild, roaming in quest of a hearthstead, settled down in the grey old time, when thor and freya were yet gods, and odin was a portentous name. yon old hall is still called the earl's home, though the hearth of sigurd is now no more, and the bones of the old kemp, and of sigrith his dame, have been mouldering for a thousand years in some neighbouring knoll; perhaps yonder, where those tall norwegian pines shoot up so boldly into the air. it is said that the old earl's galley was once moored where is now that blue pool, for the waters of that valley were not always sweet; yon valley was once an arm of the sea, a salt lagoon, to which the war-barks of 'sigurd, in search of a home,' found their way. i was in the habit of spending many an hour on the banks of that rivulet with my rod in my hand, and, when tired with angling, would stretch myself on the grass, and gaze upon the waters as they glided past, and not unfrequently, divesting myself of my dress, i would plunge into the deep pool which i have already mentioned, for i had long since learned to swim. and it came to pass, that on one hot summer's day, after bathing in the pool, i passed along the meadow till i came to a shallow part, and, wading over to the opposite side, i adjusted my dress, and commenced fishing in another pool, beside which was a small clump of hazels. and there i sat upon the bank, at the bottom of the hill which slopes down from 'the earl's home'; my float was on the waters, and my back was towards the old hall. i drew up many fish, small and great, which i took from off the hook mechanically, and flung upon the bank, for i was almost unconscious of what i was about, for my mind was not with my fish. i was thinking of my earlier years--of the scottish crags and the heaths of ireland--and sometimes my mind would dwell on my studies--on the sonorous stanzas of dante, rising and falling like the waves of the sea--or would strive to remember a couplet or two of poor monsieur boileau. 'canst thou answer to thy conscience for pulling all those fish out of the water and leaving them to gasp in the sun?' said a voice, clear and sonorous as a bell. i started, and looked round. close behind me stood the tall figure of a man, dressed in raiment of quaint and singular fashion, but of goodly materials. he was in the prime and vigour of manhood; his features handsome and noble, but full of calmness and benevolence; at least i thought so, though they were somewhat shaded by a hat of finest beaver, with broad drooping eaves. 'surely that is a very cruel diversion in which thou indulgest, my young friend?' he continued. 'i am sorry for it, if it be, sir,' said i, rising; 'but i do not think it cruel to fish.' 'what are thy reasons for thinking so?' 'fishing is mentioned frequently in scripture. simon peter was a fisherman.' 'true; and andrew his brother. but thou forgettest; they did not follow fishing as a diversion, as i fear thou doest.--thou readest the scriptures?' 'sometimes.' 'sometimes?--not daily?--that is to be regretted. what profession dost thou make?--i mean to what religious denomination dost thou belong, my young friend?' 'church.' 'it is a very good profession--there is much of scripture contained in its liturgy. dost thou read aught beside the scriptures?' 'sometimes.' 'what dost thou read besides?' 'greek, and dante.' 'indeed! then thou hast the advantage over myself; i can only read the former. well, i am rejoiced to find that thou hast other pursuits beside thy fishing. dost thou know hebrew?' 'no.' 'thou shouldest study it. why dost thou not undertake the study?' 'i have no books.' 'i will lend thee books, if thou wish to undertake the study. i live yonder at the hall, as perhaps thou knowest. i have a library there, in which are many curious books, both in greek and hebrew, which i will show to thee, whenever thou mayest find it convenient to come and see me. farewell! i am glad to find that thou hast pursuits more satisfactory than thy cruel fishing.' and the man of peace departed, and left me on the bank of the stream. whether from the effect of his words or from want of inclination to the sport, i know not, but from that day i became less and less a practitioner of that 'cruel fishing.' i rarely flung line and angle into the water, but i not unfrequently wandered by the banks of the pleasant rivulet. it seems singular to me, on reflection, that i never availed myself of his kind invitation. i say singular, for the extraordinary, under whatever form, had long had no slight interest for me: and i had discernment enough to perceive that yon was no common man. yet i went not near him, certainly not from bashfulness, or timidity, feelings to which i had long been an entire stranger. am i to regret this? perhaps, for i might have learned both wisdom and righteousness from those calm, quiet lips, and my after-course might have been widely different. as it was, i fell in with other queer companions, from whom i received widely different impressions than those i might have derived from him. when many years had rolled on, long after i had attained manhood, and had seen and suffered much, and when our first interview had long been effaced from the mind of the man of peace, i visited him in his venerable hall, and partook of the hospitality of his hearth. and there i saw his gentle partner and his fair children, and on the morrow he showed me the books of which he had spoken years before by the side of the stream. in the low quiet chamber, whose one window, shaded by a gigantic elm, looks down the slope towards the pleasant stream, he took from the shelf his learned books, zohar and mishna, toldoth jesu and abarbenel. 'i am fond of these studies,' said he, 'which, perhaps, is not to be wondered at, seeing that our people have been compared to the jews. in one respect i confess we are similar to them: we are fond of getting money. i do not like this last author, this abarbenel, the worse for having been a money-changer. i am a banker myself, as thou knowest.' and would there were many like him, amidst the money-changers of princes! the hall of many an earl lacks the bounty, the palace of many a prelate the piety and learning, which adorn the quiet quaker's home! it is doubtful if borrow met joseph john gurney more than on the one further occasion to which he refers above. at the commencement of his engagement with the bible society he writes to its secretary, mr. jowett (march , ), to say that he must procure from mr. cunningham 'a letter of introduction from him to john gurney,' and this second and last interview must have taken place at earlham before his departure for russia. but if borrow was to come very little under the influence of joseph john gurney, his destiny was to be considerably moulded by the action of gurney's brother-in-law, cunningham, who first put him in touch with the bible society. joseph john gurney and his sisters were the very life of the bible society in those years. footnotes: [ ] see _the gurneys of earlham_ by augustus j. c. hare, vols., ; _memoirs of joseph gurney; with selections from his journal and correspondence_, edited by joseph bevan braithwaite, vols., . chapter vi george borrow's norwich--the taylors with the famous 'taylors of norwich' borrow seems to have had no acquaintance, although he went to school with a connection of that family, james martineau. these socially important taylors were in no way related to william taylor of that city, who knew german literature, and scandalised the more virtuous citizens by that, and perhaps more by his fondness for wine and also for good english beer--a drink over which his friend borrow was to become lyrical. when people speak of the norwich taylors they refer to the family of dr. john taylor, who in was elected to the charge of the presbyterian congregation in norwich. his eldest son, richard, married margaret, the daughter of a mayor of norwich of the name of meadows; and sarah, another daughter of that same worshipful mayor, married david martineau, grandson of gaston martineau, who fled from france at the time of the revocation of the edict of nantes.[ ] harriet and james martineau were grandchildren of this david. the second son of richard and margaret taylor was john, who married susannah cook. susannah is the clever mrs. john taylor of this story, and her daughter of even greater ability was sarah austin, the wife of the famous jurist. their daughter married sir alexander duff-gordon. she was the author of _letters from egypt_, a book to which george meredith wrote an 'introduction,' so much did he love the writer. lady duff-gordon's daughter, janet ross, wrote the biography of her mother, her grandmother, and mrs. john taylor, in _three generations of englishwomen_. a niece, lena duff-gordon (mrs. waterfield), has written pleasant books of travel, and so, for five generations, this family has produced clever women-folk. but here we are only concerned with mrs. john taylor, called by her friends the 'madame roland of norwich.' lucy aikin describes how she 'darned her boy's grey worsted stockings while holding her own with southey, brougham, or mackintosh.' one of her daughters married henry reeve, and, as i have said, another married john austin. borrow was twenty years of age and living in norwich when mrs. taylor died. it is to be regretted that in the early impressionable years his position as a lawyer's clerk did not allow of his coming into a circle in which he might have gained certain qualities of _savoir faire_ and _joie de vivre_, which he was all his days to lack. of the taylor family the duke of sussex said that they reversed the ordinary saying that it takes nine tailors to make a man. the witticism has been attributed to sydney smith, but mrs. ross gives evidence that it was the duke's--the youngest son of george iii. in his _life of sir james mackintosh_ basil montagu, referring to mrs. john taylor, says: norwich was always a haven of rest to us, from the literary society with which that city abounded. dr. sayers we used to visit, and the high-minded and intelligent william taylor; but our chief delight was in the society of mrs. john taylor, a most intelligent and excellent woman, mild and unassuming, quiet and meek, sitting amidst her large family, occupied with her needle and domestic occupations, but always assisting, by her great knowledge, the advancement of kind and dignified sentiment and conduct. we note here the reference to 'the high-minded and intelligent william taylor,' because william taylor, whose influence upon borrow's destiny was so pronounced, has been revealed to many by the slanders of harriet martineau, that extraordinary compound of meanness and generosity, of poverty-stricken intelligence and rich endowment. in her _autobiography_, published in , thirty-four years after robberds's _memoir of william taylor_, she dwells upon the drinking propensities of william taylor, who was a schoolfellow of her father's. she admits, indeed, that taylor was an ideal son, whose 'exemplary filial duty was a fine spectacle to the whole city,' and she continues: his virtues as a son were before our eyes when we witnessed his endurance of his father's brutality of temper and manners, and his watchfulness in ministering to the old man's comfort in his infirmities. when we saw, on a sunday morning, william taylor guiding his blind mother to chapel ... we could forgive anything that had shocked or disgusted us at the dinner-table. well, harriet martineau is not much to be trusted as to taylor's virtues or his vices, for her early recollections are frequently far from the mark. thus she refers under the date to the fact that: the great days of the gurneys were not come yet. the remarkable family from which issued mrs. fry and joseph john gurney were then a set of dashing young people, dressed in gay riding habits and scarlet boots, and riding about the country to balls and gaieties of all sorts. as a matter of fact, in this year, , mrs. fry was the mother of fifteen children, and had nine grandchildren, and joseph john gurney had been twice a widower. both brother and sister were zealous philanthropists at this date. and so we may take with some measure of qualification harriet martineau's many strictures upon taylor's drinking habits, which were, no doubt, those of his century and epoch; although perhaps beyond the acceptable standard of norwich, where the gurneys were strong teetotallers, and the bishop once invited father mathew, then in the glory of his temperance crusade, to discourse in his diocese. indeed, robberds, his biographer, tells us explicitly that these charges of intemperance were 'grossly and unjustly exaggerated.' william taylor's life is pleasantly interlinked with scott and southey. lucy aikin records that she heard sir walter scott declare to mrs. barbauld that taylor had laid the foundations of his literary career--had started him upon the path of glory through romantic verse to romantic prose, from _the lay of the last minstrel_ to _waverley_. it was the reading of taylor's translation of bürger's _lenore_ that did all this. 'this, madam,' said scott, 'was what made me a poet. i had several times attempted the more regular kinds of poetry without success, but here was something that i thought i could do.' southey assuredly loved taylor, and each threw at the feet of the other the abundant literary learning that both possessed. this we find in a correspondence which, reading more than a century after it was written, still has its charm.[ ] the son of a wealthy manufacturer of norwich, taylor was born in that city in . he was in early years a pupil of mrs. barbauld. at fourteen he was placed in his father's counting-house, and soon afterwards was sent abroad, in the company of one of the partners, to acquire languages. he learnt german thoroughly at a time when few englishmen had acquaintance with its literature. to goethe's genius he never did justice, having been offended by that great man's failure to acknowledge a book that taylor sent to him, exactly as carlyle and borrow alike were afterwards offended by similar delinquencies on the part of walter scott. when he settled again in norwich he commenced to write for the magazines, among others for sir richard phillips's _monthly magazine_, and to correspond with southey. at the time southey was a poor man, thinking of abandoning literature for the law, and hopeful of practising in calcutta. the norwich liberals, however, aspired to a newspaper to be called _the iris_. taylor asked southey to come to norwich and to become its editor. southey declined and taylor took up the task. the _norwich iris_ lasted for two years. southey never threw over his friendship for taylor, although their views ultimately came to be far apart. writing to taylor in he says: your theology does nothing but mischief; it serves only to thin the miserable ranks of unitarianism. the regular troops of infidelity do little harm; and their trumpeters, such as voltaire and paine, not much more. but it is such pioneers as middleton, and you and your german friends, that work underground and sap the very citadel. that _monthly magazine_ is read by all the dissenters--i call it the dissenters' obituary--and here are you eternally mining, mining, under the shallow faith of their half-learned, half-witted, half-paid, half-starved pastors. but the correspondence went on apace, indeed it occupies the larger part of robberds's two substantial volumes. it is in the very last letter from taylor to southey that we find an oft-quoted reference to borrow. the letter is dated th march : a norwich young man is construing with me schiller's _wilhelm tell_ with the view of translating it for the press. his name is george henry borrow, and he has learnt german with extraordinary rapidity; indeed, he has the gift of tongues, and, though not yet eighteen, understands twelve languages--english, welsh, erse, latin, greek, hebrew, german, danish, french, italian, spanish, and portuguese; he would like to get into the office for foreign affairs, but does not know how. although this was the last letter to southey that is published in the memoir, taylor visited southey at keswick in . taylor's three volumes of the _historic survey of german poetry_ appeared in , , and . sir walter scott, in the last year of his life, wrote from abbotsford on rd april to taylor to protest against an allusion to 'william scott of edinburgh' being the author of a translation of _goetz von berlichingen_. scott explained that he (walter scott) was that author, and also made allusion to the fact that he had borrowed with acknowledgment two lines from taylor's _lenore_ for his own-- tramp, tramp along the land, splash, splash across the sea. adding that his recollection of the obligation was infinitely stronger than of the mistake. it would seem, however, that the name 'william' was actually on the title-page of the london edition of of _goetz von berlichingen_. when southey heard of the death of taylor in he wrote: i was not aware of my old friend's illness, or i should certainly have written to him, to express that unabated regard which i have felt for him eight-and-thirty years, and that hope which i shall ever feel, that we may meet in the higher state of existence. i have known very few who equalled him in talents--none who had a kinder heart; and there never lived a more dutiful son, or a sincerer friend. taylor's many books are now all forgotten. his translation of bürger's _lenore_ one now only recalls by its effect upon scott; his translation of lessing's _nathan the wise_ has been superseded. his voluminous _historic survey of german poetry_ only lives through carlyle's severe review in the _edinburgh review_[ ] against the many strictures in which taylor's biographer attempts to defend him. taylor had none of carlyle's inspiration. not a line of his work survives in print in our day, but it was no small thing to have been the friend and correspondent of southey, whose figure in literary history looms larger now than it did when emerson asked contemptuously, 'who's southey?'; and to have been the wise mentor of george borrow is in itself to be no small thing in the record of letters. there is a considerable correspondence between taylor and sir richard phillips in robberds's _memoir_, and phillips seemed always anxious to secure articles from taylor for the _monthly_, and even books for his publishing-house. hence the introduction from taylor that borrow carried to london might have been most effective if phillips had had any use for poor and impracticable would-be authors. footnotes: [ ] _three generations of englishwomen_, by janet ross, vol. i, p. . [ ] _a memoir of the life and writings of william taylor of norwich: containing his correspondence of many years with the late robert southey, esquire, and original letters from sir walter scott and other eminent literary men_. compiled and edited by j. w. robberds of norwich, vols. london: john murray, . [ ] reprinted in carlyle's _miscellanies_. chapter vii george borrow's norwich--the grammar school when george borrow first entered norwich after the long journey from edinburgh, joseph john gurney, born , was twenty-six years of age, and william taylor, born , was forty-nine. borrow was eleven years of age. captain borrow took temporary lodgings at the crown and angel inn in st. stephen's street, george was sent to the grammar school, and his elder brother started to learn drawing and painting with john crome ('old crome') of many a fine landscape. but the wanderings of the family were not yet over. napoleon escaped from elba, and the west norfolk militia were again put on the march. this time it was ireland to which they were destined, and we have already shadowed forth, with the help of _lavengro_, that momentous episode. the victory of waterloo gave europe peace, and in the borrow family returned to norwich, there to pass many quiet years. in captain borrow was pensioned--eight shillings a day. from till his father's death in borrow lived in norwich with his family. their home was in king's court, willow lane, a modest one-storey house in a _cul de sac_, which we have already described. in king's court, willow lane, borrow lived at intervals until his marriage in , and his mother continued to live in the house until, in , she agreed to join her son and daughter-in-law at oulton. yet the house comes little into the story of borrow's life, as do the early houses of many great men of letters, nor do subsequent houses come into his story; the house at oulton and the house at hereford square are equally barren of association; the broad highway and the windy heath were borrow's natural home. he was never a 'civilised' being; he never shone in drawing-rooms. let us, however, return to borrow's schooldays, of which the records are all too scanty, and not in the least invigorating. the norwich grammar school has an interesting tradition. we pass to the cathedral through the beautiful erpingham gate built about by sir thomas erpingham, and we find the school on the left. it was originally a chapel, and the porch is at least five hundred years old. the schoolroom is sufficiently old-world-looking for us to imagine the schoolboys of past generations sitting at the various desks. the school was founded in , but the registers have been lost, and so we know little of its famous pupils of earlier days. lord nelson and rajah brooke are the two names of men of action that stand out most honourably in modern times among the scholars[ ]. in literature borrow had but one schoolfellow, who afterwards came to distinction--james martineau. borrow's headmaster was the reverend edward valpy, who held the office from to , and to whom is credited the destruction of the school archives. borrow's two years of the grammar school were not happy ones. borrow, as we have shown, was not of the stuff of which happy schoolboys are made. he had been a wanderer--scotland, ireland, and many parts of england had assisted in a fragmentary education; he was now thirteen years of age, and already a vagabond at heart. but let us hear dr. augustus jessopp, who was headmaster of the same grammar school from to . writing of a meeting of old norvicensians to greet the rajah, sir james brooke, in , when there was a great 'whip' of the 'old boys,' dr. jessopp tells us that borrow, then living at yarmouth, did not put in an appearance among his schoolfellows: my belief is that he never was popular among them, that he never attained a high place in the school, and he was a 'free boy.' in those days there were a certain number of day boys at norwich school, who were nominated by members of the corporation, and who paid no tuition fees; they had to submit to a certain amount of snubbing at the hands of the boarders, who for the most part were the sons of the county gentry. of course, such a proud boy as george borrow would resent this, and it seems to have rankled with him all through his life.... to talk of borrow as a 'scholar' is absurd. 'a picker-up of learning's crumbs' he was, but he was absolutely without any of the training or the instincts of a scholar. he had had little education till he came to norwich, and was at the grammar school little more than two years. it is pretty certain that he knew no greek when he entered there, and he never seems to have acquired more than the elements of that language.[ ] [illustration: the erpingham gate and the grammar school, norwich we pass through the erpingham gate direct to the cathedral, the grammar school being on our left. here it is on our right. facing the school is a statue of lord nelson, who was at school here about - . borrow was at school here - .] yet the only real influence that borrow carried away from the grammar school was concerned with foreign languages. he did take to the french master and exiled priest, thomas d'eterville, a native of caen, who had emigrated to norwich in . d'eterville taught french, italian, and apparently, to borrow, a little spanish; and borrow, with his wonderful memory, must have been his favourite pupil. in his edition of _lavengro_ dr. knapp publishes a brief dialogue between master and pupil, which gives us an amusing glimpse of the worthy d'eterville, whom the boys called 'poor old detterville.' in the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters of _lavengro_ he is pleasantly described by his pupil, who adds, with characteristic 'bluff,' that d'eterville said 'on our arrival at the conclusion of dante's _hell_, "vous serez un jour un grand philologue, mon cher."' borrow's biographers have dwelt at length upon one episode of his schooldays--the flogging he received from valpy for playing truant with three other boys. one, by name john dalrymple, faltered on the way, the two faithful followers of george in his escapade being two brothers named theodosius and francis purland, whose father kept a chemist's shop in norwich. the three boys wandered away as far as acle, eleven miles from norwich, whence they were ignomimously brought back and birched. john dalrymple's brother arthur, son of a distinguished norwich surgeon, who became clerk of the peace at norwich in , and died in , has left a memorandum concerning borrow, from which i take the following extract[ ]: 'i was at school with borrow at the free school, norwich, under the rev. e. valpy. he was an odd, wild boy, and always wanting to turn robinson crusoe or buccaneer. my brother john was about borrow's age, and on one occasion borrow, john, and another, whose name i forget, determined to run away and turn pirates. john carried an old horse pistol and some potatoes as his contribution to the general stock, but his zeal was soon exhausted, he turned back at thorpe lunatic asylum; but borrow went off to yarmouth, and lived on the caister denes for a few days. i don't remember hearing of any exploits. he had a wonderful facility for learning languages, which, however, he never appears to have turned to account. james martineau, afterwards a popular preacher and a distinguished theologian of the unitarian creed, here comes into the story. he was a contemporary with borrow at the norwich grammar school as already stated, but the two boys had little in common. there was nothing of the vagabond about james martineau, and concerning borrow--if on no other subject--he would probably have agreed with his sister harriet, whose views we shall quote in a later chapter. in martineau's _memoirs_, voluminous and dull, there is only one reference to borrow;[ ] but a correspondent once ventured to approach the eminent divine concerning the rumour as to martineau's part in the birching of the author of _the bible in spain_, and received the following letter: gordon square, london, w.c., _december , ._ dear sir,--two or three years ago mr. egmont hake (author, i think, of a life of gordon) sought an interview with me, as reputed to be borrow's sole surviving schoolfellow, in order to gather information or test traditions about his schooldays. this was with a view to a memoir which he was compiling, he said, out of the literary remains which had been committed to him by his executors. i communicated to him such recollections as i could clearly depend upon and leave at his disposal for publication or for suppression as he might think fit. under these circumstances i feel that they are rightfully his, and that i am restrained from placing them at disposal elsewhere unless and until he renounces his claim upon them. but though i cannot repeat them at length for public use, i am not precluded from correcting inaccuracies in stories already in circulation, and may therefore say that mr. arthur dalrymple's version of the yarmouth escapade is wrong in making his brother john a partner in the transaction. john had quite too much sense for that; the only victims of borrow's romance were two or three silly boys--mere lackeys of borrow's commanding will--who helped him to make up a kit for the common knapsack by pilferings out of their fathers' shops. the norwich gentleman who fell in with the boys lying in the hedgerow near the half-way inn knew one of them, and wormed out of him the drift of their enterprise, and engaging a postchaise packed them all into it, and in his gig saw them safe home. it is true that i had to _hoist_ (not 'horse') borrow for his flogging, but not that there was anything exceptional or capable of leaving permanent scars in the infliction. mr. valpy was not given to excess of that kind. i have never read _lavengro_, and cannot give any opinion about the correct spelling of the 'exul sacerdos' name. borrow's romance and william taylor's love of paradox would doubtless often run together, like a pair of well-matched steeds, and carry them away in the same direction. but there was a strong--almost wild--_religious_ sentiment in borrow, of which only faint traces appear in w. t. in borrow it had always a tendency to pass from a sympathetic to an antipathetic form. he used to gather about him three or four favourite schoolfellows, after they had learned their class lesson and before the class was called up, and with a sheet of paper and book on his knee, invent and tell a story, making rapid little pictures of each _dramatis persona_ that came upon the stage. the plot was woven and spread out with much ingenuity, and the characters were various and well discriminated. but two of them were sure to turn up in every tale, the devil and the pope, and the working of the drama invariably had the same issue--the utter ruin and disgrace of these two potentates. i had often thought that there was a presage here of the mission which produced _the bible in spain_.--i am, dear sir, very truly yours, james martineau.[ ] yet it is amusing to trace the story through various phases. dr. martineau's letter was the outcome of his attention being called to a statement made in a letter written by a lady in hampstead to a friend in norwich, which runs as follows: _ th nov. ._ dr. martineau, to amuse some boys at a school treat, told us about george borrow, his schoolfellow: he was always reading adventures of smugglers and pirates, etc., and at last, to carry out his ideas, got a set of his schoolfellows to promise to join him in an expedition to yarmouth, where he had heard of a ship that he thought would take them. the boys saved all the food they could from their meals, and what money they had, and one morning started very early to walk to yarmouth. they got half-way--to blofield, i think--when they were so tired they had to rest by the roadside, and eat their lunch. while they were resting, a gentleman, whose son was at the free school, passed in his gig. he thought it was very odd so many boys, some of whom he had seen, should be waiting about, so he drove back and asked them if they would come to dine with him at the inn. of course they were only too glad, poor boys: but as soon as he had got them all in he sent his servant with a letter to mr. valpy, who sent a coach and brought them all back. you know what a cruel man that dr. v. was. he made dr. martineau take poor borrow on his back, 'horse him,' i think he called it, and flogged him so that dr. m. said he would carry the marks for the rest of his life, and he had to keep his bed for a fortnight. the other boys got off with lighter punishment, but borrow was the ring-leader. those were the 'good old times'! i have heard dr. m. say that not for another life would he go through the misery he suffered as 'town boy' at that school. miss frances power cobbe, who lived next door to borrow in hereford square, brompton, in the 'sixties, as we shall see later, has a word to say on the point: dr. martineau once told me that he and borrow had been schoolfellows at norwich some sixty years before. borrow had persuaded several of his other companions to rob their fathers' tills, and then the party set forth to join some smugglers on the coast. by degrees the truants all fell out of line and were picked up, tired and hungry, along the road, and brought back to norwich school, where condign chastisement awaited them. george borrow, it seems, received his large share _horsed_ on james martineau's back! the early connection between the two old men, as i knew them, was irresistibly comic to my mind. somehow when i asked mr. borrow once to come and meet some friends at our house he accepted our invitation as usual, but, on finding that dr. martineau was to be of the party, hastily withdrew his acceptance on a transparent excuse; nor did he ever after attend our little assemblies without first ascertaining that dr. martineau was not to be present.[ ] james martineau died in , but the last of borrow's schoolfellows to die was, i think, mr. william edmund image, a justice of the peace and deputy lieutenant for suffolk. he resided at herringswell house, near mildenhall, where he died in , aged years. mr. valpy of the norwich grammar school is scarcely to be blamed that he was not able to make separate rules for a quite abnormal boy. yet, if he could have known, borrow was better employed playing truant and living up to his life-work as a glorified vagabond than in studying in the ordinary school routine. george borrow belonged to a type of boy--there are many such--who learn much more out of school than in its bounds; and the boy borrow, picking up brother vagabonds in tombland fair, and already beginning, in his own peculiar way, his language craze, was laying the foundations that made _lavengro_ possible. footnotes: [ ] in earlier times we have the names of matthew parker, archbishop of canterbury; edward coke, lord chief justice; john caius, the founder of caius college, cambridge; and samuel clarke, divine and metaphysician; and, indeed, a very considerable list of england's worthies. [ ] 'lights on borrow,' by the rev. augustus jessopp, d. d., hon. canon of norwich cathedral, in _the daily chronicle_, th april . [ ] the whole memorandum on a sheet of notepaper, signed a. d., is in the possession of mrs. james stuart of carrow abbey, norwich, who has kindly lent it to me. [ ] this is a contemptuous reference in martineau's own words to 'george borrow, the writer and actor of romance,' in the allusion to martineau's schoolfellows under edward valpy. martineau was at the norwich grammar school for four years--from to . see _life and letters_, by james drummond and c. b. upton, vol. i. pp. , . [ ] reprint from an article by w. a. dutt on 'george borrow and james martineau' in _the sphere_ for th august . the letter was written to mr. james hooper, of norwich. [ ] _life of frances power cobbe as told by herself_, ch. xvii. chapter viii george borrow's norwich--the lawyer's office doubts were very frequently expressed in borrow's lifetime as to his having really been articled to a solicitor, but the indefatigable dr. knapp set that point at rest by reference to the record office. borrow was articled to simpson and rackham of tuck's court, st. giles's, norwich, 'for the term of five years'--from march to march --and these five years were spent in and about norwich, and were full of adventure of a kind with which the law had nothing to do. if borrow had had the makings of a lawyer he could not have entered the profession under happier auspices. the firm was an old established one even in his day. it had been established in tuck's court as simpson and rackham, then it became rackham and morse, rackham, cooke and rackham, and rackham and cooke; finally, tom rackham, a famous norwich man in his day, moved to another office, and the firm of lawyers who occupy the original offices in our day is called leathes prior and sons. borrow has told us frankly what a poor lawyer's clerk he made--he was always thinking of things remote from that profession, of gypsies, of prize-fighters, and of word-makers. yet he loved the head of the firm, william simpson, who must have been a kind and tolerant guide to the curious youth. simpson was for a time town clerk of norwich, and his portrait hangs in the blackfriars hall. borrow went to live with mr. simpson in the upper close near the grammar school. archdeacon groome recalled having seen borrow 'reserved and solitary' haunting the precincts of the playground; another schoolboy, william drake, remembered him as 'tall, spare, dark-complexioned.'[ ] here is borrow's account of his master and of his work: a more respectable-looking individual was never seen; he really looked what he was, a gentleman of the law--there was nothing of the pettifogger about him: somewhat under the middle size, and somewhat rotund in person, he was always dressed in a full suit of black, never worn long enough to become threadbare. his face was rubicund, and not without keenness; but the most remarkable thing about him was the crown of his head, which was bald, and shone like polished ivory, nothing more white, smooth, and lustrous. some people have said that he wore false calves, probably because his black silk stockings never exhibited a wrinkle; they might just as well have said that he waddled, because his boots creaked; for these last, which were always without a speck, and polished as his crown, though of a different hue, did creak, as he walked rather slowly. i cannot say that i ever saw him walk fast. he had a handsome practice, and might have died a very rich man, much richer than he did, had he not been in the habit of giving rather expensive dinners to certain great people, who gave him nothing in return, except their company; i could never discover his reasons for doing so, as he always appeared to me a remarkably quiet man, by nature averse to noise and bustle; but in all dispositions there are anomalies. i have already said that he lived in a handsome house, and i may as well here add that he had a very handsome wife, who both dressed and talked exceedingly well. so i sat behind the deal desk, engaged in copying documents of various kinds; and in the apartment in which i sat, and in the adjoining ones, there were others, some of whom likewise copied documents, while some were engaged in the yet more difficult task of drawing them up; and some of these, sons of nobody, were paid for the work they did, whilst others, like myself, sons of somebody, paid for being permitted to work, which, as our principal observed, was but reasonable, forasmuch as we not unfrequently utterly spoiled the greater part of the work intrusted to our hands.[ ] [illustration: william simpson from a portrait by thomas phillips, r.a. mr. simpson was chamberlain of the city of norwich and treasurer of the county of norfolk. he was town-clerk of norwich in , and has an interest in connection with george borrow in that borrow was articled to him as a lawyer's clerk and describes him in _wild wales_ as 'the greatest solicitor in east anglia--indeed i may say the prince of all english solicitors.' the portrait hangs in the black friars hall, norwich.] and he goes on to tell us that he studied the welsh language and later the danish; his master said that his inattention would assuredly make him a bankrupt, and his father sighed over his eccentric and impracticable son. the passion for languages had indeed caught hold of borrow. among my borrow papers i find a memorandum in the handwriting of his stepdaughter in which she says: i have often heard his mother say, that when a mere child of eight or nine years, all his pocket-money was spent in purchasing foreign dictionaries and grammars; he formed an acquaintance with an old woman who kept a bookstall in the market-place of norwich, whose son went voyages to holland with cattle, and brought home dutch books, which were eagerly bought by little george. one day the old woman was crying, and told him that her son was in prison. 'for doing what?' asked the child. 'for taking a silk handkerchief out of a gentleman's pocket.' 'then,' said the boy, 'your son stole the pocket handkerchief?' 'no dear, no, my son did not steal,--he only glyfaked.' we have no difficulty in recognising here the heroine of the moll flanders episode in _lavengro_. but it was not from casual meetings with welsh grooms and danes and dutchmen that borrow acquired even such command of various languages as was undoubtedly his. we have it on the authority of an old fellow-pupil at the grammar school, burcham, afterwards a london police-magistrate, that william taylor gave him lessons in german,[ ] but he acquired most of his varied knowledge in these impressionable years in the corporation library of norwich. dr. knapp found, in his most laudable examination of some of the books, borrow's neat pencil notes, the making of which was not laudable on the part of his hero. one book here marked was on ancient danish literature, the author of which, olaus wormius, gave him the hint for calling himself olaus borrow for a time--a signature that we find in some of borrow's published translations. borrow at this time had aspirations of a literary kind, and thomas campbell accepted a translation of schiller's _diver_, which was signed 'o. b.' there were also translations from the german, dutch, swedish, and danish, in the _monthly magazine_. clearly borrow was becoming a formidable linguist, if not a very exact master of words. still he remained a vagabond, and loved to wander over mousehold heath, to the gypsy encampment, and to make friends with the romany folk; he loved also to haunt the horse fairs for which norwich was so celebrated; and he was not averse from the companionship of wilder spirits who loved pugilism, if we may trust _lavengro_, and if we may assume, as we justly may, that he many times cast youthful, sympathetic eyes on john thurtell in these years, the to-be murderer of weare, then actually living with his father in a house on the ipswich road, thurtell, the father, being in no mean position in the city--an alderman, and a sheriff in . yes, there was plenty to do and to see in norwich, and borrow's memories of it were nearly always kindly: a fine old city, truly, is that, view it from whatever side you will; but it shows best from the east, where ground, bold and elevated, overlooks the fair and fertile valley in which it stands. gazing from those heights, the eye beholds a scene which cannot fail to awaken, even in the least sensitive bosom, feelings of pleasure and admiration. at the foot of the heights flows a narrow and deep river, with an antique bridge communicating with a long and narrow suburb, flanked on either side by rich meadows of the brightest green, beyond which spreads the city; the fine old city, perhaps the most curious specimen at present extant of the genuine old english town. yes, there it spreads from north to south, with its venerable houses, its numerous gardens, its thrice twelve churches, its mighty mound, which, if tradition speaks true, was raised by human hands to serve as the grave-heap of an old heathen king, who sits deep within it, with his sword in his hand, and his gold and silver treasures about him. there is a grey old castle upon the top of that mighty mound; and yonder, rising three hundred feet above the soil, from among those noble forest trees, behold that old norman master-work, that cloud-encircled cathedral spire, around which a garrulous army of rooks and choughs continually wheel their flight. now, who can wonder that the children of that fine old city are proud of her, and offer up prayers for her prosperity? i myself, who was not born within her walls, offer up prayers for her prosperity, that want may never visit her cottages, vice her palaces, and that the abomination of idolatry may never pollute her temples. but at the very centre of borrow's norwich life was william taylor, concerning whom we have already written much. it was a jew named mousha, a quack it appears, who pretended to know german and hebrew, and had but a smattering of either language, who first introduced borrow to taylor, and there is a fine dialogue between the two in _lavengro_, of which this is the closing fragment: 'are you happy?' said the young man. 'why, no! and, between ourselves, it is that which induces me to doubt sometimes the truth of my opinions. my life, upon the whole, i consider a failure; on which account, i would not counsel you, or anyone, to follow my example too closely. it is getting late, and you had better be going, especially as your father, you say, is anxious about you. but, as we may never meet again, i think there are three things which i may safely venture to press upon you. the first is, that the decencies and gentlenesses should never be lost sight of, as the practice of the decencies and gentlenesses is at all times compatible with independence of thought and action. the second thing which i would wish to impress upon you is, that there is always some eye upon us; and that it is impossible to keep anything we do from the world, as it will assuredly be divulged by somebody as soon as it is his interest to do so. the third thing which i would wish to press upon you----' 'yes,' said the youth, eagerly bending forward. 'is'--and here the elderly individual laid down his pipe upon the table--'that it will be as well to go on improving yourself in german!' taylor it was who, when borrow determined to try his fortunes in london with those bundles of unsaleable manuscripts, gave him introductions to sir richard phillips and to thomas campbell. it was in the agnostic spirit that he had learned from taylor that he wrote during this period to his one friend in london, roger kerrison. kerrison was grandson of sir roger kerrison, mayor of norwich in , as his son thomas was after him in . roger was articled, as was borrow, to the firm of simpson and rackham, while his brother allday was in a drapery store in norwich, but with mind bent on commercial life in mexico. george was teaching him spanish in these years as a preparation for his great adventure. roger had gone to london to continue his professional experience. he finally became a norwich solicitor and died in . allday went to zacatecas, mexico, and acquired riches. john borrow followed him there and met with an early death, as we have seen. borrow and roger kerrison were great friends at this time; but when _lavengro_ was written they had ceased to be this, and roger is described merely as an 'acquaintance' who had found lodgings for him on his first visit to london. as a matter of fact that trip to london was made easy for borrow by the opportunity given to him of sharing lodgings with roger kerrison at milman street, bedford row, where borrow put in an appearance on st april , some two months after the following letter was written: to mr. roger kerrison, milman street, bedford row. norwich, _jany. , ._ dearest roger,--i did not imagine when we separated in the street, on the day of your departure from norwich, that we should not have met again: i had intended to have come and seen you off, but happening to dine at w. barron's i got into discourse, and the hour slipt past me unawares. i have been again for the last fortnight laid up with that detestable complaint which destroys my strength, impairs my understanding, and will in all probability send me to the grave, for i am now much worse than when you saw me last. but _nil desperandum est_, if ever my health mends, and possibly it may by the time my clerkship is expired, i intend to live in london, write plays, poetry, etc., abuse religion and get myself prosecuted, for i would not for an ocean of gold remain any longer than i am forced in this dull and gloomy town. i have no news to regale you with, for there is none abroad, but i live in the expectation of shortly hearing from you, and being informed of your plans and projects; fear not to be prolix, for the slightest particular cannot fail of being interesting to one who loves you far better than parent or relation, or even than the god whom bigots would teach him to adore, and who subscribes himself, yours unalterably, george borrow.[ ] borrow might improve his german--not sufficiently as we shall see in our next chapter--but he would certainly never make a lawyer. long years afterwards, when, as an old man, he was frequently in norwich, he not seldom called at that office in tuck's court, where five strange years of his life had been spent. a clerk in rackham's office in these later years recalls him waiting for the principal as he in his youth had watched others waiting.[ ] footnotes: [ ] _norvicensian_, , p. . [ ] _lavengro_, ch. xix. [ ] the _britannia_ newspaper, th june . [ ] this letter is in the possession of mr. j. c. gould, trap hill house, loughton, essex. [ ] mr. c. f. martelli of staple inn, london, who has so generously placed this information at my disposal. mr. martelli writes: 'old memories brought him to our office for professional advice, and there i saw something of him, and a very striking personality he was, and a rather difficult client to do business with. one peculiarity i remember was that he believed himself to be plagued by autograph hunters, and was reluctant to trust our firm with his signature in any shape or form, and that we in consequence had some trouble in inducing him to sign his will. i have seen him sitting over my fire in my room at that office for hours, half asleep, and crooning out romany songs while waiting for my chief.' chapter ix sir richard phillips _'that's a strange man!' said i to myself, after i had left the house, 'he is evidently very clever; but i cannot say that i like him much with his oxford reviews and dairyman's daughters.'_--lavengro. borrow lost his father on the th february . he reached london on the nd april of the same year, and this was the beginning of his many wanderings. he was armed with introductions from william taylor, and with some translations in manuscript from danish and welsh poetry. the principal introduction was to sir richard phillips, a person of some importance in his day, who has so far received but inadequate treatment in our own.[ ] phillips was active in the cause of reform at a certain period in his life, and would seem to have had many sterling qualities before he was spoiled by success. he was born in the neighbourhood of leicester, and his father was 'in the farming line,' and wanted him to work on the farm, but he determined to seek his fortune in london. after a short absence, during which he clearly proved to himself that he was not at present qualified to capture london, young phillips returned to the farm. borrow refers to his patron's vegetarianism, and on this point we have an amusing story from his own pen! he had been, when previously on the farm, in the habit of attending to a favourite heifer: during his sojournment in london this animal had been killed; and on the very day of his return to his father's house, he partook of part of his favourite at dinner, without his being made acquainted with the circumstance of its having been slaughtered during his absence. on learning this, however, he experienced a sudden indisposition; and declared that so great an effect had the idea of his having eaten part of his slaughtered favourite upon him, that he would never again taste animal food; a vow to which he has hitherto firmly adhered.[ ] farming not being congenial, phillips hired a small room in leicester, and opened a school for instruction in the three r's, a large blue flag on a pole being his 'sign' or signal to the inhabitants of leicester, who seem to have sent their children in considerable numbers to the young schoolmaster. but little money was to be made out of schooling, and a year later phillips was, by the kindness of friends, started in a small hosiery shop in leicester. throwing himself into politics on the side of reform, phillips now started the _leicester herald_, to which dr. priestley became a contributor. the first number was issued gratis in may . his _memoir_ informs us that it was an article in this newspaper that secured for its proprietor and editor eighteen months imprisonment in leicester gaol, but he was really charged with selling paine's _rights of man_. the worthy knight had probably grown ashamed of _the rights of man_ in the intervening years, and hence the reticence of the memoir. phillips's gaoler was the once famous daniel lambert, the notorious 'fat man' of his day. in gaol phillips was visited by lord moira and the duke of norfolk. it was this lord moira who said in the house of lords in that 'he had seen in ireland the most absurd, as well as the most disgusting tyranny that any nation ever groaned under.' moira became governor-general of bengal and commander-in-chief of the army in india. the duke of norfolk, a stanch whig, distinguished himself in by a famous toast at the crown and anchor tavern, arundel street, strand:--'our sovereign's health--the majesty of the people!' which greatly offended george iii., who removed norfolk from his lord-lieutenancy. phillips seems to have had a very lax imprisonment, as he conducted the _herald_ from gaol, contributing in particular a weekly letter. soon after his release he disposed of the _herald_, or permitted it to die. it was revived a few years later as an organ of toryism. he had started in gaol another journal, _the museum_, and he combined this with his hosiery business for some time longer, when an opportune fire relieved him of an apparently uncongenial burden, and with the insurance money in his pocket he set out for london once more. here he started as a hosier in st. paul's churchyard, lodging meantime in the house of a milliner, where he fell in love with one of the apprentices, miss griffiths, 'a native of wales.' his affections were won, we are naïvely informed in the _memoir_, by the young woman's talent in the preparation of a vegetable pie. this is our first glimpse of lady phillips--'a quiet, respectable woman,' whom borrow was to meet at dinner long years afterwards. inspired, it would seem, by the kindly exhortation of dr. priestley, he now transformed his hosiery business in st. paul's churchyard into a 'literary repository,' and started a singularly successful career as a publisher. there he produced his long-lived periodical, _the monthly magazine_, which attained to so considerable a fame. dr. aikin, a friend of priestley's, was its editor, but with him phillips had a quarrel--the first of his many literary quarrels--and they separated. this dr. aikin was the father of the better-known lucy aikin, and was a nonconformist who suffered for his opinions in these closing years of the eighteenth century, even as priestley did. he was the author of many works, including the once famous _evenings at home_, written in conjunction with his sister, mrs. barbauld;[ ] and after his quarrel with phillips he founded a new publication issued by the house of longman, and entitled _the athenæum_. hereupon he and phillips quarrelled again, because dr. aikin described himself in advertisements of _the athenæum_ as 'j. aikin, m.d., late editor of _the monthly magazine_.' aikin's contributors to _the monthly_ included capell lofft, of whom we know too little, and dr. wolcot, of whom we know too much. meanwhile phillips's publishing business grew apace, and he removed to larger premises in bridge street, blackfriars, an address which we find upon many famous publications of his period. a catalogue of his books lies before me dated 'january .' it includes many works still upon our shelves. almon's _memoirs and correspondence of john wilkes_, samuel richardson's _life and correspondence_, for example, several of the works of maria edgeworth, including her _moral tales_, many of the works of william godwin, including _caleb williams_, and the earlier books of that still interesting woman and once popular novelist, lady morgan, whose _poems_ as sydney owenson bears phillips's name on its title-page, as does also her first successful novel _the wild irish girl_, and other of her stories. my own interest in phillips commenced when i met him in the pages of lady morgan's _memoirs_.[ ] thomas moore, lady morgan tells us, had come back to dublin from london, where he had been 'the guest of princes, the friend of peers, the translator of anacreon!' from royal palaces and noble manors, he had returned to his family seat--a grocer's shop at the corner of little longford street, angier street. here, in a little room over the shop, sydney heard him sing two of his songs, and was inspired thereby to write her first novels, _st. clair_ and _the novice of st. dominick_. the first was published in dublin; over the second she corresponded with phillips, and his letters to her commence with one dated from bridge street, th april , in which he wishes her to send the manuscript of _the novice_ to him as one 'often (undeservedly) complimented as the most liberal of my trade!' she determined, fresh from a governess situation, to bring the manuscript herself. phillips was charmed with his new author, and really seems to have treated her very liberally. he insisted, however, on having _the novice_ cut down from six volumes to four, and she was wont to say that nothing but regard for her feelings prevented him from reducing it to three.[ ] _the novice of st. dominick_ was a favourite book with the younger pitt, who read it over again in his last illness. then followed--in --sydney owenson's new novel, _the wild irish girl_, and it led to an amusing correspondence with its author on the part of phillips on the one side, and johnson, who, it will be remembered, was cowper's publisher, on the other. phillips was indignant that, having first brought sydney into fame, she should dare to ask more money on that account. as is the case with every novelist to-day who scores one success, miss owenson had formed a good idea of her value, and there is a letter to johnson in which she admitted that phillips's offer was a generous one. johnson had offered her £ for the copyright of _the wild irish girl_. phillips had offered only £ down and £ each for the second and third editions. when phillips heard that johnson had outbidden him, he described the offer as 'monstrous,' and that it was 'inspired by a spirit of revenge.' he would not, he declared, increase his offer, but a little later he writes from bridge street to sydney owenson as his 'dear, bewitching, and deluding syren,' and promises the £ . a few months later he gave her a hundred pounds for a slight volume of poems, which certainly never paid for its publication, although scott and moore and many another were making much money out of poetry in those days. in any case phillips did not accept miss owenson's next story with alacrity, in spite of the undoubted success of _the wild irish girl_. she no doubt asked too much for _ida of athens_. phillips probably thought, after reading the first volume in type, that it was very inferior work, as indeed it was. athens was described without the author ever having seen the city. after much wrangling, in which the lady said that her 'prince of publishers,' as she had once called him, had 'treated her barbarously,' the novel went into the hands of the longmans, who published it, not without some remonstrance as to certain of its sentiments. the successful lady morgan afterwards described _ida_ as a bad book, so perhaps here, as usually, phillips was not far wrong in his judgment. a similar quarrel seems to have taken place over the next novel, _the missionary_. here phillips again received the manuscript, discussed terms with its author, and returned it. the firm of stockdale and miller were his successful rivals. later and more prosperous novels, _o'donnel_ in particular, were issued by henry colburn, and phillips now disappears from lady morgan's life. i have told the story of phillips's relation with lady morgan at length because at no other point do we come into so near a contact with him. in fell's _memoir_ phillips is described--in --as 'certainly now the first publisher in london,' but while he may have been this in the volume of his trade--and school-books made an important part of it--he was not in mere 'names.' most of his successful writers--sydney owenson, thomas skinner surr, dr. gregory, and the rest--have now fallen into oblivion. the school-books that he issued have lasted even to our own day, notably dr. mavor's _spelling book_. dr. mavor was a scotsman from aberdeen, who came to london and became phillips's chief hack. there are no less than twenty of mavor's school-books in the catalogue before me. they include mavor's _history of england_, mavor's _universal history_, and mavor's _history of greece_. in the _memoir_ of it is claimed that 'mavor' is but a pseudonym for phillips, and the claim is also made, quite wrongfully, by john timbs, who, before he became acting editor of the _illustrated london news_ under herbert ingram, and an indefatigable author, was phillips's private secretary.[ ] it seems clear, however, that in the case of blair's _catechism_ and goldsmith's _geography_, and many another book for schools, phillips was 'blair' and 'goldsmith' and many another imaginary person, for the books in question numbered about two hundred in all. for these books there must have been quite an army of literary hacks employed during the twenty years prior to the appearance of george borrow in that great army. on th november , the lord mayor's procession through london included richard phillips among its sheriffs, and he was knighted by george iii. in the following year. during his period of office he effected many reforms in the city prisons. john timbs, in his _walks and talks about london_, tells us that phillips's colleague in the shrievalty was one smith, who afterwards became lord mayor: the _personnel_ of the two sheriffs presented a sharp contrast. smith loved aldermanic cheer, but was pale and cadaverous in complexion; whilst phillips, who never ate animal food, was rosy and healthful in appearance. one day, when the sheriffs were in full state, the procession was stopped by an obstruction in the street traffic; when droll were the mistakes of the mob: to smith they cried, 'here's old water-gruel!' to phillips, 'here's roast beef! something like an englishman!' two volumes before me show phillips as the precursor of many of the publishers of one-volume books of reference so plentiful in our day. _a million of facts_ is one of them, and _a chronology of public events within the last fifty years from to _ is another, while one of the earliest and most refreshing guides to london and its neighbourhood is afforded us in _a morning walk from london to kew_, which first appeared in _the monthly magazine_, but was reprinted in with the name 'sir richard phillips' as author on the title-page. phillips was now no longer a publisher. here we have some pleasant glimpses of a bygone era, many trite reflections, but not enough topography to make the book one of permanent interest. it would not, in fact, be worth reprinting.[ ] this, then, was the man to whom george borrow presented himself in . phillips was fifty-seven years of age. he had made a moderate fortune and lost it, and was now enjoying another perhaps less satisfying; it included the profits of _the monthly review_, repurchased after his bankruptcy, and some rights in many of the school-books. but the great publishing establishment in bridge street had long been broken up. borrow would have found taylor's introduction to phillips quite useless had the worthy knight not at the moment been keen on a new magazine and seen the importance of a fresh 'hack' to help to run it. moreover, had he not written a great book which only the germans could appreciate, _twelve essays on the phenomena of nature_? here, he thought, was the very man to produce this book in a german dress. taylor was a thorough german scholar, and he had vouched for the excellent german of his pupil and friend. hence a certain cordiality which did not win borrow's regard, but was probably greater than many a young man would receive to-day from a publisher-prince upon whom he might call laden only with a bundle of translations from the danish and the welsh. here--in _lavengro_--is the interview between publisher and poet, with the editor's factotum bartlett, whom borrow calls taggart, as witness: 'well, sir, what is your pleasure?' said the big man, in a rough tone, as i stood there, looking at him wistfully--as well i might--for upon that man, at the time of which i am speaking, my principal, i may say my only hopes, rested. 'sir,' said i, 'my name is so-and-so, and i am the bearer of a letter to you from mr. so-and-so, an old friend and correspondent of yours.' the countenance of the big man instantly lost the suspicious and lowering expression which it had hitherto exhibited; he strode forward and, seizing me by the hand, gave me a violent squeeze. 'my dear sir,' said he, 'i am rejoiced to see you in london. i have been long anxious for the pleasure--we are old friends, though we have never before met. taggart,' said he to the man who sat at the desk, 'this is our excellent correspondent, the friend and pupil of our excellent correspondent.' [illustration: sir john bowring in from a portrait by john king now in the national portrait gallery.] [illustration: john p. hasfeld in from a portrait by an unknown artist formerly belonging to george borrow] [illustration: william taylor from a portrait by j. thomson, printed in the year , and engraved in robberds's _life of taylor_.] [illustration: sir richard phillips from a portrait by james saxon, painted in , now in the national portrait gallery.] [illustration: friends of borrow's early years] [transcriber's note: this is the caption for the page of four portraits, each portrait's caption is shown above.] phillips explains that he has given up publishing, except 'under the rose,' had only _the monthly magazine_, here[ ] called _the magazine_, but contemplated yet another monthly, _the universal review_, here called _the oxford_. he gave borrow much the same sound advice that a publisher would have given him to-day--that poetry is not a marketable commodity, and that if you want to succeed in prose you must, as a rule, write trash--the most acceptable trash of that day being _the dairyman's daughter_,[ ] which has sold in hundreds of thousands, and is still much prized by the evangelical folk who buy the publications of the religious tract society. phillips, moreover, asked him to dine to meet his wife, his son, and his son's wife,[ ] and we know what an amusing account of that dinner borrow gives in _lavengro_. moreover, he set borrow upon his first piece of hack-work, the _celebrated trials_, and gave him something to do upon _the universal review_ and also upon _the monthly_. _the universal_ lasted only for six numbers, dying in january . in that year appeared the six volumes of the _celebrated trials_, of which we have something to say in our next chapter. borrow found phillips most exacting, always suggesting the names of new criminals, and leaving it to the much sweated author to find the books from which to extract the necessary material: in the compilation of my lives and trials i was exposed to incredible mortification, and ceaseless trouble, from this same rage for interference.... this was not all; when about a moiety of the first volume had been printed, he materially altered the plan of the work; it was no longer to be a collection of mere newgate lives and trials, but of lives and trials of criminals in general, foreign as well as domestic.... 'where is brandt and struensee?' cried the publisher. 'i am sure i don't know,' i replied; whereupon the publisher falls to squealing like one of joey's rats. 'find me up brandt and struensee by next morning, or--' 'have you found brandt and struensee?' cried the publisher, on my appearing before him next morning. 'no,' i reply, 'i can hear nothing about them'; whereupon the publisher falls to bellowing like joey's bull. by dint of incredible diligence, i at length discover the dingy volume containing the lives and trials of the celebrated two who had brooded treason dangerous to the state of denmark. i purchase the dingy volume, and bring it in triumph to the publisher, the perspiration running down my brow. the publisher takes the dingy volume in his hand, he examines it attentively, then puts it down; his countenance is calm for a moment, almost benign. another moment and there is a gleam in the publisher's sinister eye; he snatches up the paper containing the names of the worthies which i have intended shall figure in the forthcoming volumes--he glances rapidly over it, and his countenance once more assumes a terrific expression. 'how is this?' he exclaims; 'i can scarcely believe my eyes--the most important life and trial omitted to be found in the whole criminal record--what gross, what utter negligence! where's the life of farmer patch? where's the trial of yeoman patch?' 'what a life! what a dog's life!' i would frequently exclaim, after escaping from the presence of the publisher.[ ] then came the final catastrophe. borrow could not translate phillips's great masterpiece, _twelve essays on the proximate causes_, into german with any real effectiveness although the testimonial of the enthusiastic taylor had led phillips to assume that he could. borrow, as we shall see, knew many languages, and knew them well colloquially, but he was not a grammarian, and he could not write accurately in any one of his numerous tongues. his wonderful memory gave him the words, but not always any thoroughness of construction. he could make a good translation of a poem by schiller, because he brought his own poetic fancy to the venture, but he had no interest in phillips's philosophy, and so he doubtless made a very bad translation, as german friends were soon able to assure phillips, who had at last to go to a german for a translation, and the book appeared at stuttgart in .[ ] meanwhile, phillips's new magazine, _the universal review_, went on its course. it lasted only for a few numbers, as we have said--from march to january --and it was entirely devoted to reviews, many of them written by borrow, but without any distinction calling for comment to-day. dr. knapp thought that gifford was the editor, with phillips's son and george borrow assisting. gifford translated _juvenal_, and it was for a long time assumed that borrow wished merely to disguise gifford's identity when he referred to his editor as the translator of _quintilian_. but sir leslie stephen has pointed out in _literature_ that john carey ( - ), who actually edited _quintilian_ in , was phillips's editor, 'all the poetry which i reviewed,' borrow tells us, 'appeared to be published at the expense of the authors. all the publications which fell under my notice i treated in a gentlemanly ... manner--no personalities, no vituperation, no shabby insinuations; decorum, decorum was the order of the day.' and one feels that borrow was not very much at home. but he went on with his _newgate lives and trials_, which, however, were to be published with another imprint, although at the instance of phillips. by that time he and that worthy publisher had parted company. probably phillips had set out for brighton, which was to be his home for the remainder of his life. footnotes: [ ] the few lines awarded to him in mumby's _romance of bookselling_ are an illustration of this. [ ] _memoirs of the public and private life of sir richard phillips, king's high sheriff for the city of london and the county of middlesex, by a citizen of london and assistants_. london, . this _memoir_ was published in , many years before the death of phillips, and was clearly inspired and partly written by him, although an autograph letter before me from one ralph fell shows that the worthy fell actually received £ from phillips for 'compiling' the book. a portion of the _memoir_ may have been written by another literary hack named pinkerton, but all of it was compiled under the direction of phillips. [ ] mr. arthur aikin brodribb in his memoir of aikin in the _dictionary of national biography_ makes the interesting but astonishing statement that aikin's _life of howard_ 'has been adopted, without acknowledgment, by a modern writer.' mr. brodribb apparently knew nothing of dr. aikin's association with the _monthly magazine_ or with the first _athenæum_. [ ] i have no less than four memoirs of lady morgan on my shelves:--_passages from my autobiography_, by sydney, lady morgan (richard bentley, ); _the friends, foes, and adventures of lady morgan_, by william john fitzpatrick (w. b. kelly: dublin, ); _lady morgan; her career, literary and personal, with a glimpse of her friends, and a word to her calumniators_, by william john fitzpatrick (london: charles j. skeet, ); _lady morgan's memoirs: autobiography, diaries and correspondence_. two vols. (london: w. h. allen, ). [ ] _memoirs of lady morgan_, edited by w. hepworth dixon. [ ] see timbs's article on phillips in his _walks and talks about london_, . timbs was wont to recall, as the late w. l. thomas of the _graphic_ informed me, that while at the _illustrated london news_ he got so exasperated with herbert ingram, the founder and proprietor, that he would frequently write and post a letter of resignation, but would take care to reach the office before ingram in the morning in order to withdraw it. [ ] another london book before me, which bears the imprint 'richard phillips, bridge street,' is entitled _the picture of london for _. mine is the twelfth edition of this remarkable little volume. [ ] in _lavengro_. [ ] legh richmond ( - ), the author of _the dairyman's daughter_ and _the young cottager_, which had an extraordinary vogue in their day. a few years earlier than this princess sophia metstchersky translated the former into the russian language, and borrow must have seen copies when he visited st. petersburg. richmond was the first clerical secretary of the religious tract society, with which _the dairyman's daughter_ has always been one of the most popular of tracts. [ ] phillips at his death in left a widow, three sons, and four daughters. one son was vicar of kilburn. [ ] _lavengro_, ch. xxxix. [ ] _ueber die nächsten ursachen der materiellen erscheinungen des universums_, von sir richard phillips, nach dem englischen bearbeitet von general von theobald und prof. dr. lebret. stuttgart, . chapter x _faustus_ and _romantic ballads_ in the early pages of _lavengro_ borrow tells us nearly all we are ever likely to know of his sojourn in london in the years and , during which time he had those interviews with sir richard phillips which are recorded in our last chapter. dr. knapp, indeed, prints a little note from him to his friend kerrison, in which he begs his friend to come to him as he believes he is dying. roger kerrison, it would seem, had been so frightened by borrow's depression and threats of suicide that he had left the lodgings at milman street, bedford row, and removed himself elsewhere, and so borrow was left friendless to fight what he called his 'horrors' alone. the depression was not unnatural. from his own vivid narrative we learn of borrow's bitter failure as an author. no one wanted his translations from the welsh and the danish, and phillips clearly had no further use for him after he had compiled his _newgate lives and trials_ (borrow's name in _lavengro_ for _celebrated trials_), and was doubtless inclined to look upon him as an impostor for professing, with william taylor's sanction, a mastery of the german language which had been demonstrated to be false with regard to his own book. no 'spirited publisher' had come forward to give reality to his dream thus set down: i had still an idea that, provided i could persuade any spirited publisher to give these translations to the world, i should acquire both considerable fame and profit; not, perhaps, a world-embracing fame such as byron's; but a fame not to be sneered at, which would last me a considerable time, and would keep my heart from breaking;--profit, not equal to that which scott had made by his wondrous novels, but which would prevent me from starving, and enable me to achieve some other literary enterprise. i read and re-read my ballads, and the more i read them the more i was convinced that the public, in the event of their being published, would freely purchase, and hail them with the merited applause. he has a tale to tell us in _lavengro_ of a certain _life and adventures of joseph sell, the great traveller_, the purchase of which from him by a publisher at the last moment saved him from starvation and enabled him to take to the road, there to meet the many adventures that have become immortal in the pages of _lavengro_. dr. knapp has encouraged the idea that _joseph sell_ was a real book, ignoring the fact that the very title suggests doubts, and was probably meant to suggest them. in norfolk, as elsewhere, a 'sell' is a word in current slang used for an imposture or a cheat, and doubtless borrow meant to make merry with the credulous. there was, we may be perfectly sure, no _joseph sell_, and it is more reasonable to suppose that it was the sale of his translation of klinger's _faustus_ that gave him the much needed money at this crisis. dr. knapp pictures borrow as carrying the manuscript of his translation of _faustus_ with him to london. there is not the slightest evidence of this. it may be reasonably assumed that borrow made the translation from klinger's novel during his sojourn in london. it is true the preface is dated 'norwich, april ,' but borrow did not leave london until the end of may , that is to say, until after he had negotiated with 'w. simpkin and r. marshall,' now the well-known firm of simpkin and marshall, for the publication of the little volume. that firm, unfortunately, has no record of the transaction. my impression is that borrow in his wandering after old volumes on crime for his great compilation, _celebrated trials_, came across the french translation of klinger's novel published at amsterdam. from that translation he acknowledges that he borrowed the plate which serves as frontispiece--a plate entitled 'the corporation feast.' it represents the corporation of frankfort at a banquet turned by the devil into various animals. it has been erroneously assumed that borrow had had something to do with the designing of this plate, and that he had introduced the corporation of norwich in vivid portraiture into the picture. borrow does, indeed, interpolate a reference to norwich into his translation of a not too complimentary character, for at that time he had no very amiable feelings towards his native city. of the inhabitants of frankfort he says: they found the people of the place modelled after so unsightly a pattern, with such ugly figures and flat features, that the devil owned he had never seen them equalled, except by the inhabitants of an english town called norwich, when dressed in their sunday's best.[ ] in the original german version of we have the town of nuremberg thus satirised. but borrow was not the first translator to seize the opportunity of adapting the reference for personal ends. in the french translation of , published at amsterdam, and entitled _les aventures du docteur faust_, the translator has substituted auxerre for nuremberg. what makes me think that borrow used only the french version in his translation is the fact that in his preface he refers to the engravings of that version, one of which he reproduced; whereas the engravings are in the german version as well. friedrich maximilian von klinger ( - ), who was responsible for borrow's 'first book,' was responsible for much else of an epoch-making character. it was he who by one of his many plays, _sturm und drang_, gave a name to an important period of german literature. in von klinger entered the service of russia, and in married a natural daughter of the empress catherine. thus his novel, _faust's leben, thaten und höllenfahrt_, was actually first published at st. petersburg in . this was seventeen years before goethe published his first part of _faust_, a book which by its exquisite poetry was to extinguish for all self-respecting germans klinger's turgid prose. borrow, like the translator of rousseau's _confessions_ and of many another classic, takes refuge more than once in the asterisk. klinger's _faustus_, with much that was bad and even bestial, has merits. the devil throughout shows his victim a succession of examples of 'man's inhumanity to man.' borrow's translation of klinger's novel was reprinted in without any acknowledgment of the name of the translator, and only a few stray words being altered.[ ] borrow nowhere mentions klinger's name in his latter volume, of which the title-page runs: faustus: his life, death, and descent into hell. translated from the german. london: w. simpkin and r. marshall, . i doubt very much if he really knew who was the author, as the book in both the german editions i have seen as well as in the french version bears no author's name on its title-page. a letter of borrow's in the possession of an american collector indicates that he was back in norwich in september , after, we may assume, three months' wandering among gypsies and tinkers. it is written from willow lane, and is apparently to the publishers of _faustus_: as your bill will become payable in a few days, i am willing to take thirty copies of _faustus_ instead of the money. the book has been _burnt_ in both the libraries here, and, as it has been talked about, i may perhaps be able to dispose of some in the course of a year or so. this letter clearly demonstrates that the guileless simpkin and the equally guileless marshall had paid borrow for the right to publish _faustus_, and even though part of the payment was met by a bill, i think we may safely find in the transaction whatever verity there may be in the joseph sell episode. 'let me know how you sold your manuscript,' writes borrow's brother to him so late as the year . and this was doubtless _faustus_. the action of the norwich libraries in burning the book would clearly have had the sympathy of one of its few reviewers had he been informed of the circumstance. it is thus that the _literary gazette_ for th july refers to borrow's little book: this is another work to which no respectable publisher ought to have allowed his name to be put. the political allusions and metaphysics, which may have made it popular among a low class in germany, do not sufficiently season its lewd scenes and coarse descriptions for british palates. we have occasionally publications for the fireside--these are only fit for the fire. borrow returned then to norwich in the autumn of a disappointed man so far as concerned the giving of his poetical translations to the world, from which he had hoped so much. no 'spirited publisher' had been forthcoming, although dr. knapp's researches have unearthed a 'note' in _the monthly magazine_, which, after the fashion of the anticipatory literary gossip of our day, announced that olaus borrow was about to issue _legends and popular superstitions of the north_, 'in two elegant volumes.' but this never appeared. quite a number of borrow's translations from divers languages had appeared from time to time, beginning with a version of schiller's 'diver' in _the new monthly magazine_ for , continuing with stolberg's 'ode to a mountain torrent' in _the monthly magazine_, and including the 'deceived merman.' these he collected into book form and, not to be deterred by the coldness of heartless london publishers, issued them by subscription. three copies of the slim octavo book lie before me, with separate title-pages: ( ) romantic ballads, translated from the danish; and miscellaneous pieces by george borrow. norwich: printed and published by s. wilkin, upper haymarket, . ( ) romantic ballads, translated from the danish; and miscellaneous pieces by george borrow. london: published by john taylor, waterloo place, pall mall, . ( ) romantic ballads, translated from the danish; and miscellaneous pieces, by george borrow. london: published by wightman and cramp, paternoster row, .[ ] the book contains an introduction in verse by allan cunningham, whose acquaintance borrow seems to have made in london. it commences: sing, sing, my friend, breathe life again through norway's song and denmark's strain: on flowing thames and forth, in flood, pour haco's war-song, fierce and rude. cunningham had not himself climbed very far up the literary ladder in , although he was forty-one years of age. at one time a stonemason in a scots village, he had entered chantrey's studio, and was 'superintendent of the works' to that eminent sculptor at the time when borrow called upon him in london, and made an acquaintance which never seems to have extended beyond this courtesy to the younger man's _danish ballads_. the point of sympathy of course was that in the year cunningham had published _the songs of scotland, ancient and modern_. but allan cunningham, whose _lives of the most eminent british painters_ is his best remembered book to-day, scarcely comes into this story. there are four letters from cunningham to borrow in dr. knapp's _life_, and two from borrow to cunningham. the latter gave his young friend much good advice. he told him, for example, to send copies of his book to the newspapers--to the _literary gazette_ in particular, and 'walter scott must not be forgotten.' dr. knapp thinks that the newspapers were forgotten, and that borrow neglected to send to them. in any case not a single review appeared. but it is not exactly true that borrow ignored the usual practice of authors so entirely as dr. knapp supposes. there is a letter to borrow among my borrow papers from francis palgrave the historian, who became sir francis palgrave seven years later, which throws some light upon the subject: to george borrow parliament st., _ june ._ my dear sir,--i am very much obliged to you for the opportunity that you have afforded me of perusing your spirited and faithful translating of the danish ballads. mr. allan cunningham, who, as you will know, is an ancient minstrel himself, says that they are more true to the originals and more truly poetical than any that he has yet seen. i have delivered one copy to mr. lockhart, the new editor of the _quarterly review_, and i hope he will notice it as it deserves. murray would probably be inclined to publish your translations.--i remain, dear sir, your obedient and faithful servant, francis palgrave. it is probable that he did also send a copy to scott, and it is dr. knapp's theory that 'that busy writer forgot to acknowledge the courtesy.' it may be that this is so. it has been the source of many a literary prejudice. carlyle had a bitterness in his heart against scott for much the same cause. rarely indeed can the struggling author endure to be ignored by the radiantly successful one. it must have been the more galling in that a few years earlier scott had been lifted by the ballad from obscurity to fame. borrow did not in any case lack encouragement from allan cunningham: 'i like your danish ballads much,' he writes. 'get out of bed, george borrow, and be sick or sleepy no longer. a fellow who can give us such exquisite danish ballads has no right to repose.'[ ] borrow, on his side, thanks cunningham for his 'noble lines,' and tells him that he has got 'half of his _songs of scotland_ by heart.' five hundred copies of the _romantic ballads_ were printed in norwich by s. wilkin, about two hundred being subscribed for, mainly in that city, the other three hundred being dispatched to london--to taylor, whose name appears on the london title-page, although he seems to have passed on the book very quickly to wightman and cramp, for what reason we are not informed. borrow tells us that the two hundred subscriptions of half a guinea 'amply paid expenses,' but he must have been cruelly disappointed, as he was doomed to be more than once in his career, by the lack of public appreciation outside of norwich. yet there were many reasons for this. if scott had made the ballad popular, he had also destroyed it for a century--perhaps for ever--by substituting the novel as the favourite medium for the storyteller. great ballads we were to have in every decade from that day to this, but never another 'best seller' like _marmion_ or _the lady of the lake_. our _popular_ poets had to express themselves in other ways. then borrow, although his verse has been underrated by those who have not seen it at its best, or who are incompetent to appraise poetry, was not very effective here, notwithstanding that the stories in verse in _romantic ballads_ are all entirely interesting. this fact is most in evidence in a case where a real poet, not of the greatest, has told the same story. we owe a rendering of 'the deceived merman' to both george borrow and matthew arnold, but how widely different the treatment! the story is of a merman who rose out of the water and enticed a mortal--fair agnes or margaret--under the waves; she becomes his wife, bears him children, and then asks to return to earth. arriving there she refuses to go back when the merman comes disconsolately to the churchdoor for her. here are a few lines from the two versions, which demonstrate that here at least borrow was no poet and that arnold was a very fine one: george borrow 'now, agnes, agnes list to me, thy babes are longing so after thee.' 'i cannot come yet, here must i stay until the priest shall have said his say,' and when the priest had said his say, she thought with her mother at home she'd stay. 'o agnes, agnes list to me, thy babes are sorrowing after thee,' 'let them sorrow and sorrow their fill, but back to them never return i will.' matthew arnold we climbed on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, and we gazed up the aisles through the small leaded panes. she sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: 'margaret, hist! come quick we are here! dear heart,' i said, 'we are long-alone; the sea grows stormy, the little ones moan,' but, ah, she gave me never a look, for her eyes were sealed on the holy book! loud prays the priest; shut stands the door. come away, children, call no more! come away, come down, call no more! it says much for the literary proclivities of norwich at this period that borrow should have had so kindly a reception for his book as the subscription list implies. at the end of each of wilkin's two hundred copies a 'list of subscribers' is given. it opens with the name of the bishop of norwich, dr. bathurst; it includes the equally familiar names of the gurdons, gurneys, harveys, rackhams, hares (then as now of stow hall), woodhouses--all good norfolk or norwich names that have come down to our time. mayor hawkes, who is made famous in _lavengro_ by haydon's portrait, is there also. among london names we find 'f. arden,' which recalls his friend 'francis ardry' in _lavengro_, john bowring, borrow's new friend, and later to be counted an enemy, thomas campbell, benjamin haydon, and john timbs, but the name that most strikes the eye is that of 'thurtell.' three of the family are among the subscribers, including mr. george thurtell of eaton, near norwich, brother of the murderer; there also is the name of john thurtell, executed for murder exactly a year before. this would seem to imply that borrow had been a long time collecting these names and subscriptions, and doubtless before the all-too-famous crime of the previous year he had made thurtell promise to become a subscriber, and, let us hope, had secured his half-guinea. that may account, with so sensitive and impressionable a man as our author, for the kindly place that weare's unhappy murderer always had in his memory. borrow, in any case, was now, for a few years, to become more than ever a vagabond. not a single further appeal did he make to an unsympathetic literary public for a period of five years at least. footnotes: [ ] _life and death of faustus_, p. . [ ] _faustus: his life, death, and doom: a romance in prose, translated from the german_. london: w. kent and co., paternoster row, , borrow's _life and death of faustus_ was reprinted in , again with simpkin's imprint. collating borrow's translation with the issue of , i find that, with a few trivial verbal alterations, they are identical--that is to say, the translator of the book of did not translate at all, but copied from borrow's version of _faustus_, copying even his errors in translation. there is no reason to suppose that the individual, whoever he may have been, who prepared the edition of _faustus_ for the press, had ever seen either the german original or the french translation of klinger's book. it is clear that he 'conveyed' borrow's translation almost in its entirety. [ ] allan cunningham, in a letter to borrow, says, 'taylor will undertake to publish.' but there must have been a change afterwards, for some of the london copies bear the imprint wightman and cramp. in jarrold and sons of norwich issued a reprint of _romantic ballads_ limited to copies, with facsimiles of the manuscript from my borrow papers. [ ] knapp's _life_, vol. i . chapter xi _celebrated trials_ and john thurtell borrow's first book was _faustus_, and his second was _romantic ballads_, the one being published, as we have seen, in , the other in . this chronology has the appearance of ignoring the _celebrated trials_, but then it is scarcely possible to count _celebrated trials_[ ] as one of borrow's books at all. it is largely a compilation, exactly as the _newgate calendar_ and howell's _state trials_ are compilations. in his preface to the work borrow tells us that he has differentiated the book from the _newgate calendar_[ ] and the _state trials_[ ] by the fact that he had made considerable compression. this was so, and in fact in many cases he has used the blue pencil rather than the pen--at least in the earlier volumes. but borrow attempted something much more comprehensive than the _newgate calendar_ and the _state trials_ in his book. in the former work the trials range from to ; in the latter from the trial of becket in to the trial of thistlewood in . both works are concerned solely with this country. borrow went all over europe, and the trials of joan of arc, count struensee, major andré, count cagliostro, queen marie antoinette, the duc d'enghien, and marshal ney, are included in his volumes. moreover, while what may be called state trials are numerous, including many of the cases in _howell_, the greater number are of a domestic nature, including nearly all that are given in the _newgate calendar_. in the first two volumes he has naturally mainly state trials to record; the later volumes record sordid everyday crimes, and here borrow is more at home. his style when he rewrites the trials is more vigorous, and his narrative more interesting. it is to be hoped that the exigent publisher, who he assures us made him buy the books for his compilation out of the £ that he paid for it, was able to present him with a set of the _state trials_, if only in one of the earlier and cheaper issues of the work than the one that now has a place in every lawyer's library.[ ] the third volume of _celebrated trials_, although it opens with the trial of algernon sidney, is made up largely of crime of the more ordinary type, and this sordid note continues through the three final volumes. i have said that _faustus_ is an allegory of 'man's inhumanity to man.' that is emphatically, in more realistic form, the distinguishing feature of _celebrated trials_. amid these records of savagery, it is a positive relief to come across such a trial as that of poor joseph baretti. baretti, it will be remembered, was brought to trial because, when some roughs set upon him in the street, he drew a dagger, which he usually carried 'to carve fruit and sweetmeats,' and killed his assailant. in that age, when our law courts were a veritable shambles, how cheerful it is to find that the jury returned a verdict of 'self-defence.' but then sir joshua reynolds, edmund burke, dr. johnson, and david garrick gave evidence to character, representing baretti as 'a man of benevolence, sobriety, modesty, and learning.' this trial is an oasis of mercy in a desert of drastic punishment. borrow carries on his 'trials' to the very year before the date of publication, and the last trial in the book is that of 'henry fauntleroy, esquire,' for forgery. fauntleroy was a quite respectable banker of unimpeachable character, to whom had fallen at a very early age the charge of a banking business that was fundamentally unsound. it is clear that he had honestly endeavoured to put things on a better footing, that he lived simply, and had no gambling or other vices. at a crisis, however, he forged a document, in other words signed a transfer of stock which he had no right to do, the 'subscribing witness' to his power of attorney being robert browning, a clerk in the bank of england, and father of the distinguished poet.[ ] well, fauntleroy was sentenced to be hanged--and he was duly hanged at newgate on th october , only thirteen years before queen victoria came to the throne! borrow has affirmed that from a study of the _newgate calendar_ and the compilation of his _celebrated trials_ he first learned to write genuine english, and it is a fact that there are some remarkably dramatic effects in these volumes, although one here withholds from borrow the title of 'author' because so much is 'scissors and paste,' and the purple passages are only occasional. all the same i am astonished that no one has thought it worth while to make a volume of these dramatic episodes, which are clearly the work of borrow, and owe nothing to the innumerable pamphlets and chap-books that he brought into use. take such an episode as that of schening and harlin, two young german women, one of whom pretended to have murdered her infant in the presence of the other because she madly supposed that this would secure them bread--and they were starving. the trial, the scene at the execution, the confession on the scaffold of the misguided but innocent girl, the respite, and then the execution--these make up as thrilling a narrative as is contained in the pages of fiction. assuredly borrow did not spare himself in that race round the bookstalls of london to find the material which the grasping sir richard phillips required from him. he found, for example, sir herbert croft's volume, _love and madness_, the supposed correspondence of parson hackman and martha reay, whom he murdered. that correspondence is now known to be an invention of croft's. borrow accepted it as genuine, and incorporated the whole of it in his story of the hackman trial. but after all, the trial which we read with greatest interest in these six volumes is that of john thurtell, because borrow had known thurtell in his youth, and gives us more than one glimpse of him in _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_. we recall, for example, lavengro's interview with the magistrate when a visitor is announced: 'in what can i oblige you, sir?' said the magistrate. 'well, sir; the soul of wit is brevity; we want a place for an approaching combat between my friend here and a brave from town. passing by your broad acres this fine morning we saw a pightle, which we deemed would suit. lend us that pightle, and receive our thanks; 'twould be a favour, though not much to grant: we neither ask for stonehenge nor for tempe.' my friend looked somewhat perplexed; after a moment, however, he said, with a firm but gentlemanly air, 'sir, i am sorry that i cannot comply with your request.' 'not comply!' said the man, his brow becoming dark as midnight; and with a hoarse and savage tone, 'not comply! why not?' 'it is impossible, sir--utterly impossible!' 'why so?' 'i am not compelled to give my reasons to you, sir, nor to any man.' 'let me beg of you to alter your decision,' said the man, in a tone of profound respect. 'utterly impossible, sir; i am a magistrate.' 'magistrate! then fare-ye-well, for a green-coated buffer and a harmanbeck.' 'sir,' said the magistrate, springing up with a face fiery with wrath. but, with a surly nod to me, the man left the apartment; and in a moment more the heavy footsteps of himself and his companion were heard descending the staircase. 'who is that man?' said my friend, turning towards me. 'a sporting gentleman, well known in the place from which i come.' 'he appeared to know you.' 'i have occasionally put on the gloves with him.' 'what is his name?' in the original manuscript in my possession the name 'john thurtell' is given as the answer to that inquiry. in the printed book the chapter ends more abruptly as we see. the second reference is even more dramatic. it occurs when lavengro has a conversation with his friend the gypsy petulengro in a thunderstorm--when all are hurrying to the prize-fight. here let borrow tell his story: 'look up there, brother!' i looked up. connected with this tempest there was one feature to which i have already alluded--the wonderful colours of the clouds. some were of vivid green, others of the brightest orange, others as black as pitch. the gypsy's finger was pointed to a particular part of the sky. 'what do you see there, brother?' 'a strange kind of cloud.' 'what does it look like, brother?' 'something like a stream of blood.' 'that cloud foreshoweth a bloody dukkeripen.' 'a bloody fortune!' said i. 'and whom may it betide?' 'who knows?' said the gypsy. down the way, dashing and splashing, and scattering man, horse, and cart to the left and right, came an open barouche, drawn by four smoking steeds, with postillions in scarlet jackets and leather skull-caps. two forms were conspicuous in it--that of the successful bruiser, and of his friend and backer, the sporting gentleman of my acquaintance. 'his!' said the gypsy, pointing to the latter, whose stern features wore a smile of triumph, as, probably recognising me in the crowd, he nodded in the direction of where i stood, as the barouche hurried by. there went the barouche, dashing through the rain-gushes, and in it one whose boast it was that he was equal to 'either fortune.' many have heard of that man--many may be desirous of knowing yet more of him. i have nothing to do with that man's after life--he fulfilled his dukkeripen. 'a bad, violent man!' softly, friend; when thou wouldst speak harshly of the dead, remember that thou hast not yet fulfilled thy own dukkeripen! there is yet another reference by borrow to thurtell in _the gypsies of spain_, which runs as follows: when a boy of fourteen i was present at a prize-fight; why should i hide the truth? it took place on a green meadow, beside a running stream, close by the old church of e----, and within a league of the ancient town of n----, the capital of one of the eastern counties. the terrible thurtell was present, lord of the concourse; for wherever he moved he was master, and whenever he spoke, even when in chains, every other voice was silent. he stood on the mead, grim and pale as usual, with his bruisers around. he it was, indeed, who _got up_ the fight, as he had previously done twenty others; it being his frequent boast that he had first introduced bruising and bloodshed amidst rural scenes, and transformed a quiet slumbering town into a den of jews and metropolitan thieves. rarely in our criminal jurisprudence has a murder trial excited more interest than that of john thurtell for the murder of weare--the gill's hill murder, as it was called. certainly no murder of modern times has had so many indirect literary associations. borrow, carlyle, hazlitt, walter scott, and thackeray are among those who have given it lasting fame by comment of one kind or another; and the lines ascribed to theodore hook are perhaps as well known as any other memory of the tragedy: they cut his throat from ear to ear, his brain they battered in, his name was mr. william weare, he dwelt in lyon's inn. carlyle's division of human beings of the upper classes into 'noblemen, gentlemen, and gigmen,' which occurs in his essay on richter, and a later reference to gig-manhood which occurs in his essay on goethe's works, had their inspiration in an episode in the trial of thurtell, when the question being asked, 'what sort of a person was mr. weare?' brought the answer, 'he was always a respectable person.' 'what do you mean by respectable?' the witness was asked. 'he kept a gig,' was the reply, which brought the word 'gigmanity' into our language.[ ] i have said that john thurtell and two members of his family became subscribers for borrow's _romantic ballads_,[ ] and it is certain that borrow must often have met thurtell, that is to say looked at him from a distance, in some of the scenes of prize-fighting which both affected, borrow merely as a youthful spectator, thurtell as a reckless backer of one or other combatant. thurtell's father was an alderman of norwich living in a good house on the ipswich road when the son's name rang through england as that of a murderer. the father was born in and died in . four years after his son john was hanged he was elected mayor of norwich, in recognition of his violent ultra-whig or blue and white political opinions. he had been nominated as mayor both in and , but it was perhaps the extraordinary 'advertisement' of his son's shameful death that gave the citizens of norwich the necessary enthusiasm to elect alderman thurtell as mayor in . it was in those oligarchical days a not unnatural fashion to be against the government. the feast at the guildhall on this occasion was attended by four hundred and sixty guests. a year before john thurtell was hanged, in , his father moved a violent political resolution in norwich, but was out-heroded by cobbett, who moved a much more extreme one over his head and carried it by an immense majority. it was a brutal time, and there cannot be a doubt but that alderman thurtell, while busy setting the world straight, failed to bring up his family very well. john, as we shall see, was hanged; thomas, another brother, was associated with him in many disgraceful transactions; while a third brother, george, also a subscriber, by the way, to borrow's _romantic ballads_, who was a landscape gardener at eaton, died in prison in under sentence for theft. apart from a rather riotous and bad bringing up, which may be pleaded in extenuation, it is not possible to waste much sympathy over john thurtell. he had thoroughly disgraced himself in norwich before he removed to london. there he got further and further into difficulties, and one of the many publications which arose out of his trial and execution was devoted to pointing the moral of the evils of gambling.[ ] it was bad luck at cards, and the loss of much money to william weare, who seems to have been an exceedingly vile person, that led to the murder. thurtell had a friend named probert who lived in a quiet cottage in a byway of hertfordshire--gill's hill, near elstree. he suggested to weare in a friendly way that they should go for a day's shooting at gill's hill, and that probert would put them up for the night. weare went home, collected a few things in a bag, and took a hackney coach to a given spot, where thurtell met him with a gig. the two men drove out of london together. the date was th october . on the high-road they met and passed probert and a companion named joseph hunt, who had even been instructed by thurtell to bring a sack with him--this was actually used to carry away the body--and must therefore have been privy to the intended murder. by the time the second gig containing probert and hunt arrived near probert's cottage, thurtell met it in the roadway, according to their accounts, and told the two men that he had done the deed; that he had killed weare first by ineffectively shooting him, then by dashing out his brains with his pistol, and finally by cutting his throat. thurtell further told his friends, if their evidence was to be trusted, that he had left the body behind a hedge. in the night the three men placed the body in a sack and carried it to a pond near probert's house and threw it in. the next night they fished it out and threw it into another pond some distance away. thurtell meanwhile had divided the spoil--some £ , which he said was all that he had obtained from weare's body--with his companions. hunt, it may be mentioned, afterwards declared his conviction that thurtell, when he first committed the murder, had removed his victim's principal treasure, notes to the value of three or four hundred pounds. suspicion was aroused, and the hue and cry raised through the finding by a labourer of the pistol in the hedge, and the discovery of a pool of blood on the roadway. probert promptly turned informer; hunt also tried to save himself by a rambling confession, and it was he who revealed where the body was concealed, accompanying the officers to the pond and pointing out the exact spot where the corpse would be found. when recovered the body was taken to the artichoke inn at elstree, and here the coroner's inquest was held. meanwhile thurtell had been arrested in london, and taken down to elstree to be present at the inquest. a verdict of guilty against all three miscreants was given by the coroner's jury, and weare's body was buried in elstree churchyard.[ ] in january john thurtell was brought to trial at hertford assizes, and hunt also. but first of all there were some interesting proceedings in the court of king's bench, before the chief justice and two other judges,[ ] complaining that thurtell had not been allowed to see his counsel. and there were other points at issue. thurtell's counsel moved for a criminal injunction against the proprietor of the surrey theatre in that a performance had been held there, and was being held, which assumed thurtell's guilt, the identical horse and gig being exhibited in which weare was supposed to have ridden to the scene of his death. finally this was arranged, and a _mandamus_ was granted 'commanding the admission of legal advisers to the prisoner.' at last the trial came on at hertford before mr. justice park. it lasted two days, although the judge wished to go on all night in order to finish in one. but the protest of thurtell, supported by the jury, led to an adjournment. probert had been set free and appeared as a witness. the jury gave a verdict of guilty, and thurtell and hunt were sentenced to be hanged, but hunt escaped with transportation. thurtell made his own speech for the defence, which had a great effect upon the jury, until the judge swept most of its sophistries away. it was, however, a very able performance. thurtell's line of defence was to declare that hunt and probert were the murderers, and that he was a victim of their perjuries. if hanged, he would be hanged on circumstantial evidence only, and he gave, with great elaboration, the details of a number of cases where men had been wrongfully hanged upon circumstantial evidence. his lawyers had apparently provided him with books containing these examples from the past, and his month in prison was devoted to this defence, which showed great ability. the trial took place on th january , and thurtell was hanged on the th, in front of hertford gaol: his body was given to the anatomical museum in london. a contemporary report says that thurtell, on the scaffold, fixed his eyes on a young gentleman in the crowd, whom he had frequently seen as a spectator at the commencement of the proceedings against him. seeing that the individual was affected by the circumstances, he removed them to another quarter, and in so doing recognised an individual well known in the sporting circles, to whom he made a slight bow. the reader of _lavengro_ might speculate whether that 'young gentleman' was borrow, but borrow was in norwich in january , his father dying in the following month. in his _celebrated trials_ borrow tells the story of the execution with wonderful vividness, and supplies effective quotations from 'an eyewitness.' borrow no doubt exaggerated his acquaintance with thurtell, as in his _robinson crusoe_ romance he was fully entitled to do for effect. he was too young at the time to have been much noticed by a man so much his senior. the writer who accepts borrow's own statement that he really gave him 'some lessons in the noble art' is too credulous,[ ] and the statement that thurtell's house 'on the ipswich road was a favourite rendezvous for the fancy' is unsupported by evidence. old alderman thurtell owned the house in question, and we find no evidence that he encouraged his son's predilection for prize-fighting. in _the romany rye_ he gives his friend the jockey as his authority for the following apologia: the night before the day he was hanged at h----, i harnessed a suffolk punch to my light gig, the same punch which i had offered to him, which i have ever since kept, and which brought me and this short young man to horncastle, and in eleven hours i drove that punch one hundred and ten miles. i arrived at h---- just in the nick of time. there was the ugly jail--the scaffold--and there upon it stood the only friend i ever had in the world. driving my punch, which was all in a foam, into the midst of the crowd, which made way for me as if it knew what i came for, i stood up in my gig, took off my hat, and shouted, 'god almighty bless you, jack!' the dying man turned his pale grim face towards me--for his face was always somewhat grim, do you see--nodded and said, or i thought i heard him say, 'all right, old chap.' the next moment--my eyes water. he had a high heart, got into a scrape whilst in the marines, lost his half-pay, took to the turf, ring, gambling, and at last cut the throat of a villain who had robbed him of nearly all he had. but he had good qualities, and i know for certain that he never did half the bad things laid to his charge. footnotes: [ ] _celebrated trials and remarkable cases of criminal jurisprudence from the earliest records to the year _. in six volumes. london: printed for geo. knight & lacey, paternoster row, . price £ , s. in boards. [ ] _the new and complete newgate calendar or malefactors recording register_. by william jackson. six vols. . [ ] cobbett and howell's _state trials_. in thirty-three volumes and index, to . the last volume, apart from the index, was actually published the year after borrow's _celebrated trials_, that is, in ; but the last trial recorded was that of thistlewood in . the editors were william cobbett, thomas bayly howell, and his son, thomas jones howell. [ ] the following note appeared in _the monthly magazine_ for st july (vol. lvii. p. ): 'a selection of the most remarkable trials and criminal causes is printing in five volumes. it will include all famous cases, from that of lord cobham, in the reign of henry the fifth, to that of john thurtell; and those connected with foreign as well as english jurisprudence. mr. borrow, the editor, has availed himself of all the resources of the english, german, french, and italian languages; and his work, including from to of the most interesting cases on record, will appear in october next. the editor of the preceding has ready for the press a _life of faustus, his death, and descent into hell_, which will also appear early in the next winter.' [ ] did the poet, who had an interest in criminology, know of his father's quite innocent association with the fauntleroy trial? [ ] another witness attained fame by her answer to the inquiry, 'was supper postponed?' with the reply, 'no, it was pork.' [ ] i have already stated (ch. x. p. ) that three members of the thurtell family subscribed for _romantic ballads_. i should have hesitated to include john thurtell among the subscribers, as he was hanged two years before the book was published, had i not the high authority of mr. walter rye, but recently mayor of norwich, and the honoured author of a _history of norfolk families_ and other works. mr. rye, to whom i owe much of the information concerning the thurtells published here, tells me that there was only this one, 'j. thurtell.' borrow had doubtless been appealing for subscribers for a very long time. i cannot, however, accept mr. rye's suggestion to me that borrow left norwich because he was mixed up with thurtell in ultra-whig or radical scrapes, the intimidation and 'cooping' of tory voters being a characteristic of the elections of that day with the wilder spirits, of whom thurtell was doubtless one. borrow's sympathies were with the tory party from his childhood up--following his father. [ ] _the fatal effects of gambling exemplified in the murder of wm. weare and the trial and fate of john thurtell, the murderer, and his accomplices_. london: thomas kelly, paternoster row. . i have a very considerable number of weare pamphlets in my possession, one of them being a record of the trial by pierce egan, the author of _life in london_ and _boxiana_. walter scott writes in his diary of being absorbed in an account of the trial, while he deprecates john bull's maudlin sentiment over 'the pitiless assassin.' that was in , but in scott went out of his way when travelling from london to edinburgh, to visit gill's hill, and describes the scene of the tragedy very vividly. lockhart's _life_, ch. lxxvi. [ ] elstree had already had its association with a murder case, for martha reay, the mistress of john montagu, fourth earl of sandwich, was buried in the church in . she was the mother of several of the earl's children, one of whom was basil montagu. she was a beautiful woman and a delightful singer, and was appearing on the stage at covent garden, which theatre she was leaving on the night of th april , when the reverend james hackman, vicar of wiveton in norfolk, shot her through the head with a pistol in a fit of jealous rage. hackman was hanged at tyburn, boswell attending the funeral. croft's supposed letters between hackman and martha reay, which made a great sensation when issued under the title of _love and madness_, are now known to be spurious (see ch. x. p. ). martha reay was buried in the chancel of elstree church, but lord sandwich, who, although he sent word to hackman, who asked his forgiveness, that 'he had robbed him of all comfort in this world,' took no pains to erect a monument over her remains. on th february the present writer visited elstree in the interest of this book. he found that the church of martha reay and william weare had long disappeared. a new structure dating from had taken its place. the present vicar, he was told, has located the spot where weare was buried, and it coincides with the old engravings. martha reay's remains, at the time of the rebuilding, were removed to the churchyard, and lie near the door of the vestry, lacking all memorial. the artichoke inn has also been rebuilt, and 'weare's pond,' which alone recalls the tragedy to-day, where the body was found, has contracted into a small pool. it is, however, clearly authentic, the brook, as pictured in the old trial-books, now running under the road. [ ] one of them was mr. justice best, of whom it is recorded that a certain index had the reference line, 'mr. justice best: his great mind,' which seemed to have no justification in the mental qualities of that worthy, but was explained when one referred to the context and saw that 'mr. justice best said that he had a great mind to commit the witness for contempt.' [ ] see an introduction by thomas seccombe to _lavengro_ in 'everyman's library.' chapter xii borrow and the fancy george borrow had no sympathy with thurtell the gambler. i can find no evidence in his career of any taste for games of hazard or indeed for games of any kind, although we recall that as a mere child he was able to barter a pack of cards for the irish language. but he had certainly very considerable sympathy with the notorious criminal as a friend and patron of prize-fighting. this now discredited pastime borrow ever counted a virtue. was not his god-fearing father a champion in his way, or, at least, had he not in open fight beaten the champion of the moment, big ben brain? moreover, who was there in those days with blood in his veins who did not count the cultivation of the fancy as the noblest and most manly of pursuits! why, william hazlitt, a prince among english essayists, whose writings are a beloved classic in our day, wrote in _the new monthly magazine_ in these very years[ ] his own eloquent impression, and even introduces john thurtell more than once as 'tom turtle,' little thinking then of the fate that was so soon to overtake him. what could be more lyrical than this: reader, have you ever seen a fight? if not, you have a pleasure to come, at least if it is a fight like that between the gas-man and bill neate. and then the best historian of prize-fighting, henry downes miles, the author of _pugilistica_, has his own statement of the case. you will find it in his monograph on john jackson, the pugilist who taught lord byron to box, and received the immortality of an eulogistic footnote in _don juan_. here is miles's defence: no small portion of the public has taken it for granted that pugilism and blackguardism are synonymous. it is as an antidote to these slanderers that we pen a candid history of the boxers; and taking the general habits of men of humble origin (elevated by their courage and bodily gifts to be the associates of those more fortunate in worldly position), we fearlessly maintain that the best of our boxers present as good samples of honesty, generosity of spirit, goodness of heart and humanity, as an equal number of men of any class of society. from samuel johnson to george bernard shaw literary england has had a kindness for the pugilist, although the magistrate has long, and rightly, ruled him out as impossible. borrow carried his enthusiasm further than any, and no account of him that concentrates attention upon his accomplishment as a distributor of bibles and ignores his delight in fisticuffs, has any grasp of the real george borrow. indeed it may be said, and will be shown in the course of our story, that borrow entered upon bible distribution in the spirit of a pugilist rather than that of an evangelist. but to return to borrow's pugilistic experiences. he claims, as we have seen, occasionally to have put on the gloves with john thurtell. he describes vividly enough his own conflicts with the flaming tinman and with petulengro. his one heroine, isopel berners, had 'fair play and long melford' as her ideal, 'long melford' being the good right-handed blow with which lavengro conquered the tinman. isopel, we remember, had learned in long melford union to 'fear god and take your own part!' george borrow, indeed, was at home with the whole army of prize-fighters, who came down to us like the roman cæsars or the kings of england in a noteworthy procession, their dynasty commencing with james fig of thame, who began to reign in , and closing with tom king, who beat heenan in , or with jem mace, who flourished in a measure until . with what zest must borrow have followed the account of the greatest battle of all, that between heenan and tom sayers at farnborough in , when it was said that parliament had been emptied to patronise a prize-fight; and this although heenan complained that he had been chased out of eight counties. for by this time, in spite of lordly patronage, pugilism was doomed, and the more harmless boxing had taken its place. 'pity that corruption should have crept in amongst them,' sighed lavengro in a memorable passage, in which he also has his pæan of praise for the bruisers of england: let no one sneer at the bruisers of england--what were the gladiators of rome, or the bull-fighters of spain, in its palmiest days, compared to england's bruisers?[ ] [illustration: the family of jasper petulengro 'jasper' or ambrose smith was a very old man when this picture was taken by mr. andrew innes of dunbar in . in both pictures we see sanspirella, jasper's wife, seated and holding a child. we are indebted to mr. charles spence of dunbar for these interesting groups.] yes: borrow was never hard on the bruisers of england, and followed their achievements, it may be said, from his cradle to his grave. his beloved father had brought him up, so to speak, upon memories of one who was champion before george was born--big ben brain of bristol. brain, although always called 'big ben,' was only feet in. high. he was for years a coal porter at a wharf off the strand. it was in that ben brain won the championship which placed him upon a pinnacle in the minds of all robust people. the duke of hamilton then backed him against the then champion, tom johnson, for five hundred guineas. 'public expectation,' says _the oracle_, a contemporary newspaper, 'never was raised so high by any pugilistic contest; great bets were laid, and it is estimated £ , was wagered on this occasion.' ben brain was the undisputed conqueror, we are told, in eighteen rounds, occupying no more than twenty-one minutes.[ ] brain died in , and all the biographers tell of the piety of his end, so that borrow's father may have read the bible to him in his last moments, as borrow avers,[ ] but i very much doubt the accuracy of the following: honour to brain, who four months after the event which i have now narrated was champion of england, having conquered the heroic johnson. honour to brain, who, at the end of other four months, worn out by the dreadful blows which he had received in his manly combats, expired in the arms of my father, who read the bible to him in his latter moments--big ben brain. we have already shown that brain lived for four years after his fight with johnson. perhaps the fight in hyde park between borrow's father and ben, as narrated in _lavengro_, is all romancing. it makes good reading in any case, as does borrow's eulogy of some of his own contemporaries of the prize-ring: so the bruisers of england are come to be present at the grand fight speedily coming off; there they are met in the precincts of the old town, near the field of the chapel, planted with tender saplings at the restoration of sporting charles, which are now become venerable elms as high as many a steeple. there they are met at a fitting rendezvous, where a retired coachman, with one leg, keeps an hotel and a bowling-green. i think i now see them upon the bowling-green, the men of renown, amidst hundreds of people with no renown at all, who gaze upon them with timid wonder. fame, after all, is a glorious thing, though it lasts only for a day. there's cribb, the champion of england, and perhaps the best man in england; there he is, with his huge, massive figure, and face wonderfully like that of a lion. there is belcher, the younger, not the mighty one, who is gone to his place, but the teucer belcher, the most scientific pugilist that ever entered a ring, only wanting strength to be, i won't say what. he appears to walk before me now, as he did that evening, with his white hat, white greatcoat, thin genteel figure, springy step, and keen, determined eye. crosses him, what a contrast! grim, savage shelton, who has a civil word for nobody, and a hard blow for anybody--hard! one blow, given with the proper play of his athletic arm, will unsense a giant. yonder individual, who strolls about with his hands behind him, supporting his brown coat lappets, under-sized, and who looks anything but what he is, is the king of the light weights, so called--randall! the terrible randall, who has irish blood in his veins--not the better for that, nor the worse; and not far from him is his last antagonist, ned turner, who, though beaten by him, still thinks himself as good a man, in which he is, perhaps, right, for it was a near thing; and 'a better shentleman,' in which he is quite right, for he is a welshman. but how shall i name them all? they were there by dozens, and all tremendous in their way. there was bulldog hudson, and fearless scroggins, who beat the conqueror of sam the jew. there was black richmond--no, he was not there, but i knew him well; he was the most dangerous of blacks, even with a broken thigh. there was purcell, who could never conquer till all seemed over with him. there was--what! shall i name thee last? ay, why not? i believe that thou art the last of all that strong family still above the sod, where mayest thou long continue--true piece of english stuff, tom of bedford--sharp as winter, kind as spring. all this is very accurate history. we know that there really was this wonderful gathering of the bruisers of england assembled in the neighbourhood of norwich in july , that is to say, sixteen miles away at north walsham. more than , men, it is estimated, gathered to see edward painter of norwich fight tom oliver of london for a purse of a hundred guineas. there were three belchers, heroes of the prize-ring, but borrow here refers to tom, whose younger brother, jem, had died in at the age of thirty. tom belcher died in at the age of seventy-one. thomas cribb was champion of england from to . one of cribb's greatest fights was with jem belcher in , when, in the forty-first and last round, as we are told by the chroniclers, 'cribb proving the stronger man put in two weak blows, when belcher, quite exhausted, fell upon the ropes and gave up the combat.' cribb had a prolonged career of glory, but he died in poverty in . happier was an earlier champion, john gully, who held the glorious honour for three years--from to . gully turned tavern-keeper, and making a fortune out of sundry speculations, entered parliament as member for pontefract, and lived to be eighty years of age. it is necessary to dwell upon borrow as the friend of prize-fighters, because no one understands borrow who does not realise that his real interests were not in literature but in action. he would have liked to join the army but could not obtain a commission. and so he had to be content with such fighting as was possible. he cared more for the men who could use their fists than for those who could but wield the pen. he would, we may be sure, have rejoiced to know that many more have visited the tomb of tom sayers in highgate cemetery than have visited the tomb of george eliot in the same burial-ground. a curious moral obliquity this, you may say. but to recognise it is to understand one side of borrow, and an interesting side withal. footnotes: [ ] _the new monthly magazine_, february , 'the fight.' reprinted among william hazlitt's _fugitive writings_ in vol. xii. of his collected works (dent, ). [ ] _lavengro_ ch. xxvi. 'it is as good as homer,' says mr. augustine birrell, quoting the whole passage in his _res judicatæ_. mr. birrell tells a delightful story of an old quaker lady who was heard to say at a dinner-table, when the subject of momentary conversation was a late prize-fight: 'oh, pity it was that ever corruption should have crept in amongst them'--she had just been reading _lavengro_. [ ] _pugilistica_, vol. i. . [ ] _lavengro_, ch. i. chapter xiii eight years of vagabondage there has been much nonsense written concerning what has been called the 'veiled period' of george borrow's life. this has arisen from a letter which richard ford of the _handbook for travellers in spain_ wrote to borrow after a visit to him at oulton in . borrow was full of his projected _lavengro_, the idea of which he outlined to his friends. he was a genial man in those days, on the wave of a popular success. was not _the bible in spain_ passing merrily from edition to edition! borrow, it is clear, told ford that he was writing his 'autobiography'--he had no misgiving then as to what he should call it--and he evidently proposed to end it in and not in , when the bible society gave him his real chance in life. ford begged him, in letters that came into dr. knapp's possession, and from which he quotes all too meagrely, not to 'drop a curtain' over the eight years succeeding . 'no doubt,' says ford, 'it will excite a mysterious interest,' but then he adds in effect it will lead to a wrong construction being put upon the omission. well, there can be but one interpretation, and that not an unnatural one. borrow had a very rough time during these eight years. his vanity was hurt, and no wonder. it seems a small matter to us now that charles dickens should have been ashamed of the blacking-bottle episode of his boyhood. genius has a right to a penurious, and even to a sordid, boyhood. but genius has no right to a sordid manhood, and here was george 'olaus' borrow, who was able to claim the friendship of william taylor, the german scholar; who was able to boast of his association with sound scholastic foundations, with the high school at edinburgh and the grammar school at norwich; who was a great linguist and had made rare translations from the poetry of many nations, starving in the byways of england and of france. what a fate for such a man that he should have been so unhappy for eight years; should have led the most penurious of roving lives, and almost certainly have been in prison as a common tramp.[ ] it was all very well to romance about a poverty-stricken youth. but when youth had fled there ceased to be romance, and only sordidness was forthcoming. from his twenty-third to his thirty-first year george borrow was engaged in a hopeless quest for the means of making a living. there is, however, very little mystery. many incidents of each of these years are revealed at one or other point. his home, to which he returned from time to time, was with his mother at the cottage in willow lane, norwich. whether he made sufficient profit out of a horse, as in _the romany rye_, to enable him to travel upon the proceeds, as dr. knapp thinks, we cannot say. dr. knapp is doubtless right in assuming that during this period he led 'a life of roving adventure,' his own authorised version of his career at the time, as we have quoted from the biography in his handwriting from _men of the time_. but how far this roving was confined to england, how far it extended to other lands, we do not know. we are, however, satisfied that he starved through it all, that he rarely had a penny in his pocket. at a later date he gave it to be understood at times that he had visited the east, and that india had revealed her glories to him. we do not believe it. defoe was borrow's master in literature, and he shared defoe's right to lie magnificently on occasion. dr. knapp has collected the various occasions upon which borrow referred to his supposed earlier travels abroad prior to his visit to st. petersburg in . the only quotation that carries conviction is an extract from a letter to his mother from st. petersburg, where he writes of 'london, paris, madrid, and other capitals which i have visited.' i am not, however, disinclined to accept dr. knapp's theory that in - borrow did travel to paris and through certain parts of southern europe. it is strange, all the same, that adventures which, had they taken place, would have provoked a thousand observations, provoked but two or three passing references. yet there is no getting over that letter to his mother, nor that reference in _the gypsies of spain_, where he says--'once in the south of france, when i was weary, hungry, and penniless....' borrow certainly did some travel in these years, but it was sordid, lacking in all dignity--never afterwards to be recalled. for the most part, however, he was in england. we know that borrow was in norwich in , for we have seen him superintending the publication of the _romantic ballads_ by subscription in that year. in that year also he wrote the letter to haydon, the painter, to say that he was ready to sit for him, but that he was 'going to the south of france in a little better than a fortnight.'[ ] we know also that he was in norwich in , because it was then, and not in as described in _lavengro_, that he 'doffed his hat' to the famous trotting stallion marshland shales, when that famous old horse was exhibited at tombland fair on the castle hill. we meet him next as the friend of dr. bowring. the letters to bowring we must leave to another chapter, but they commence in and continue through and . through them all borrow shows himself alive to the necessity of obtaining an appointment of some kind, and meanwhile he is hard at work upon his translations from various languages, which, in conjunction with dr. bowring, he is to issue as _songs of scandinavia_. dr. knapp thinks that in he made the translation of the _memoirs of vidocq_, which appeared in that year with a short preface by the translator.[ ] but these little volumes bear no internal evidence of borrow's style, and there is no external evidence to support the assumption that he had a hand in their publication. his occasional references to vidocq are probably due to the fact that he had read this little book. i have before me one very lengthy manuscript of borrow's of this period. it is dated december , and is addressed, 'to the committee of the honourable and praiseworthy association, known by the name of the highland society.'[ ] it is a proposal that they should publish in two thick octavo volumes a series of translations of the best and most approved poetry of the ancient and modern scots-gaelic bards. borrow was willing to give two years to the project, for which he pleads 'with no sordid motive.' it is a dignified letter, which will be found in one of dr. knapp's appendices--so presumably borrow made two copies of it. the offer was in any case declined, and so borrow passed from disappointment to disappointment during these eight years, which no wonder he desired, in the coming years of fame and prosperity, to veil as much as possible. the lean years in the lives of any of us are not those upon which we delight to dwell, or upon which we most cheerfully look back.[ ] footnotes: [ ] only thus can we explain borrow's later declaration that he had _four_ times been in prison. [ ] i quote this letter in another chapter. mr. herbert jenkins thinks (_life_, ch. v. p. ) that borrow was in paris during the revolution of , because of a picturesque reference to the war correspondents there in _the bible in spain_. but borrow never hesitated to weave little touches of romance from extraneous writers into his narratives, and may have done so here. i have visited most of the principal capitals of the world, he says in _the bible in spain_. this we would call a palpable lie were not so much of _the bible in spain_ sheer invention. [ ] _memoirs of vidocq, principal agent of the french police until , and now proprietor of the paper manufactory at st. mandé_. written by himself. translated from the french. in four volumes. london: whittaker, treacher and arnot, ave maria lane, . [ ] this with other documents i am about to present to the borrow museum, norwich. [ ] in borrow had another disappointment. he translated _the sleeping bard_ from the welsh. this also failed to find a publisher. it was issued in , under which date we discuss it. chapter xiv sir john bowring 'poor george.... i wish he were making money. he works hard and remains poor'--thus wrote john borrow to his mother in from mexico, and it disposes in a measure of any suggestion of mystery with regard to five of those years that he wished to veil. they were not spent, it is clear, in rambling in the east, as he tried to persuade colonel napier many years later. they were spent for the most part in diligent attempt at the capture of words, in reading the poetry and the prose of many lands, and in making translations of unequal merit from these diverse tongues. this is indisputably brought home to me by the manuscripts in my possession, supplemented by those that fell to dr. knapp. these manuscripts represent years of work. borrow has been counted a considerable linguist, and he had assuredly a reading and speaking acquaintance with a great many languages. but this knowledge was acquired, as all knowledge is, with infinite trouble and patience. i have before me hundreds of small sheets of paper upon which are written english words and their equivalents in some twenty or thirty languages. these serve to show that borrow learnt a language as a small boy in an old-fashioned system of education learns his latin or french--by writing down simple words--'father,' 'mother,' 'horse,' 'dog,' and so on with the same word in latin or french in front of them. of course borrow had a superb memory and abundant enthusiasm, and so he was enabled to add one language to another and to make his translations from such books as he could obtain, with varied success. i believe that nearly all the books that he handled came from the norwich library, and when mrs. borrow wrote to her elder son to say that george was working hard, as we may fairly assume, from the reply quoted, that she did, she was recalling this laborious work at translation that must have gone on for years. we have seen the first fruit in the translation from the german--or possibly from the french--of klinger's _faustus_; we have seen it in _romantic ballads_ from the danish, the irish, and the swedish. now there really seemed a chance of a more prosperous utilisation of his gift, for borrow had found a zealous friend who was prepared to go forward with him in this work of giving to the english public translations from the literatures of the northern nations. this friend was dr. john bowring, who made a very substantial reputation in his day. bowring has told his own story in a volume of _autobiographical recollections_,[ ] a singularly dull book for a man whose career was at once so varied and so full of interest. he was born at exeter in of an old devonshire family, and entered a merchant's office in his native city on leaving school. he early acquired a taste for the study of languages, and learnt french from a refugee priest precisely in the way in which borrow had done. he also acquired italian, spanish, german and dutch, continuing with a great variety of other languages. indeed, only the very year after borrow had published _faustus_, he published his _ancient poetry and romances of spain_, and the year after borrow's _romantic ballads_ came bowring's _servian popular poetry_. with such interest in common it was natural that the two men should be brought together, but bowring had the qualities which enabled him to make a career for himself and borrow had not. in , as a clerk in a london mercantile house, he was sent to spain, and after this his travels were varied. he was in russia in , and in was arrested at calais and thrown into prison, being suspected by the bourbon government of abetting the french liberals. canning as foreign minister took up his cause, and he was speedily released. he assisted jeremy bentham in founding _the westminster review_ in . meanwhile he was seeking official employment, and in conjunction with mr. villiers, afterwards earl of clarendon, and that ambassador to spain who befriended borrow when he was in the peninsula, became a commissioner to investigate the commercial relations between england and france. after the reform bill of bowring was frequently a candidate for parliament, and was finally elected for bolton in . in the meantime he assisted cobden in the formation of the anti-corn law league in . having suffered great monetary losses in the interval, he applied for the appointment of consul at canton, of which place he afterwards became governor, being knighted in . at one period of his career at hong kong his conduct was made the subject of a vote of censure in parliament, lord palmerston, however, warmly defending him. finally returning to england in , he continued his literary work with unfailing zest. he died at exeter, in a house very near that in which he was born, in . his extraordinary energies cannot be too much praised, and there is no doubt but that in addition to being the possessor of great learning he was a man of high character. his literary efforts were surprisingly varied. there are at least thirty-six volumes with his name on the title-page, most of them unreadable to-day; even such works, for example, as his _visit to the philippine isles_ and _siam and the siamese_, which involved travel into then little-known lands. perhaps the only book by him that to-day commands attention is his translation of chamisso's _peter schlemihl_. the most readable of many books by him into which i have dipped is his _servian popular poetry_ of , in which we find interesting stories in verse that remind us of similar stories from the danish in borrow's _romantic ballads_ published only the year before. the extraordinary thing, indeed, is the many points of likeness between borrow and bowring. both were remarkable linguists; both had spent some time in spain and russia; both had found themselves in foreign prisons. they were alike associated in some measure with norwich--bowring through friendship with taylor--and i might go on to many other points of likeness or of contrast. it is natural, therefore, that the penniless borrow should have welcomed acquaintance with the more prosperous scholar. thus it is that, some thirty years later, borrow described the introduction by taylor: the writer had just entered into his eighteenth year, when he met at the table of a certain anglo-germanist an individual, apparently somewhat under thirty, of middle stature, a thin and weaselly figure, a sallow complexion, a certain obliquity of vision, and a large pair of spectacles. this person, who had lately come from abroad, and had published a volume of translations, had attracted some slight notice in the literary world, and was looked upon as a kind of lion in a small provincial capital. after dinner he argued a great deal, spoke vehemently against the church, and uttered the most desperate radicalism that was perhaps ever heard, saying, he hoped that in a short time there would not be a king or queen in europe, and inveighing bitterly against the english aristocracy, and against the duke of wellington in particular, whom he said, if he himself was ever president of an english republic--an event which he seemed to think by no means improbable--he would hang for certain infamous acts of profligacy and bloodshed which he had perpetrated in spain. being informed that the writer was something of a philologist, to which character the individual in question laid great pretensions, he came and sat down by him, and talked about languages and literature. the writer, who was only a boy, was a little frightened at first.[ ] the quarrels of authors are frequently amusing but rarely edifying, and this hatred of bowring that possessed the soul of poor borrow in his later years is of the same texture as the rest. we shall never know the facts, but the position is comprehensible enough. let us turn to the extant correspondence[ ] which, as far as we know, opened when borrow paid what was probably his third visit to london in : to dr. john bowring great russell street, bloomsbury. [_dec. , ._] my dear sir,--lest i should intrude upon you when you are busy, i write to inquire when you will be unoccupied. i wish to shew you my translation of _the death of balder_, ewald's most celebrated production,[ ] which, if you approve of, you will perhaps render me some assistance in bringing forth, for i don't know many publishers. i think this will be a proper time to introduce it to the british public, as your account of danish literature will doubtless cause a sensation. my friend mr. r. taylor has my _kæmpe viser_, which he has read and approves of; but he is so very deeply occupied, that i am apprehensive he neglects them: but i am unwilling to take them out of his hands, lest i offend him. your letting me know when i may call will greatly oblige,--dear sir, your most obedient servant, george borrow. to dr. john bowring great russell street, bloomsbury. [_dec. , ._][ ] my dear sir,--i trouble you with these lines for the purpose of submitting a little project of mine for your approbation. when i had last the pleasure of being at yours, you mentioned, that we might at some future period unite our strength in composing a kind of danish anthology. you know, as well as i, that by far the most remarkable portion of danish poetry is comprised in those ancient popular productions termed _kæmpe viser_, which i have translated. suppose we bring forward at once the first volume of the danish anthology, which should contain the heroic and supernatural songs of the _k. v._, which are certainly the most interesting; they are quite ready for the press with the necessary notes, and with an introduction which i am not ashamed of. the second volume might consist of the historic songs and the ballads and romances, this and the third volume, which should consist of the modern danish poetry, and should commence with the celebrated 'ode to the birds' by morten borup, might appear in company at the beginning of next season. to Ölenslager should be allotted the principal part of the fourth volume; and it is my opinion that amongst his minor pieces should be given a good translation of his aladdin, by which alone he has rendered his claim to the title of a great poet indubitable. a proper danish anthology cannot be contained in less than volumes, the literature being so copious. the first volume, as i said before, might appear instanter, with no further trouble to yourself than writing, if you should think fit, a page or two of introductory matter.--yours most truly, my dear sir, george borrow. to dr. john bowring great russell street, _decr. , ._ my dear sir,--i received your note, and as it appears that you will not be disengaged till next friday evening (this day week) i will call then. you think that no more than two volumes can be ventured on. well! be it so! the first volume can contain choice _kæmpe viser_; viz. all the heroic, all the supernatural ballads (which two classes are by far the most interesting), and a few of the historic and romantic songs. the sooner the work is advertised the better, _for i am terribly afraid of being forestalled in the kæmpe viser by some of those scotch blackguards_ who affect to translate from all languages, of which they are fully as ignorant as lockhart is of spanish. i am quite ready with the first volume, which might appear by the middle of february (the best time in the whole season), and if we unite our strength in the second, i think we can produce something worthy of fame, for we shall have plenty of matter to employ talent upon.--most truly yours, george borrow. to dr. john bowring great russell street, bloomsbury, _jany. , ._ my dear sir,--i approve of the prospectus in every respect; it is business-like, and there is nothing flashy in it. i do not wish to suggest one alteration. i am not idle: i translated yesterday from your volume longish _kæmpe visers_, among which is the 'death of king hacon at kirkwall in orkney,' after his unsuccessful invasion of scotland. to-day i translated 'the duke's daughter of skage,' a noble ballad of lines. when i call again i will, with your permission, retake tullin and attack _the surveyor_. allow me, my dear sir, to direct your attention to Ölenschlæger's _st. hems aftenspil_, which is the last in his digte of . it contains his best lyrics, one or two of which i have translated. it might, i think, be contained within pages, and i could translate it in weeks. were we to give the whole of it we should gratify Ölenschlæger's wish expressed to you, that one of his larger pieces should appear. but it is for you to decide entirely on what _is_ or what is _not_ to be done. when you see the _foreign_ editor i should feel much obliged if you would speak to him about my reviewing tegner, and enquire whether a _good_ article on welsh poetry would be received. i have the advantage of not being a welshman. i would speak the truth, and would give translations of some of the best welsh poetry; and i really believe that my translations would not be the worst that have been made from the welsh tongue.--most truly yours, g. borrow. to dr. john bowring great russell street, bloomsbury, _jany. , ._ my dear sir,--i send the prospectus[ ] for your inspection and for the correction of your master hand. i have endeavoured to assume a danish style, i know not whether i have been successful. alter, i pray you, whatever false logic has crept into it, find a remedy for its incoherencies, and render it fit for its intended purpose. i have had for the two last days a rising headache which has almost prevented me doing anything. i sat down this morning and translated a hundred lines of the _may-day_; it is a fine piece.--yours most truly, my dear sir, george borrow. to dr. john bowring museum street, _jany. ._ my dear sir,--i write this to inform you that i am at no. museum st., bloomsbury. i have been obliged to decamp from russell st. for the cogent reason of an execution having been sent into the house, and i thought myself happy in escaping with my things. i have got half of the manuscript from mr. richard taylor, but many of the pages must be rewritten owing to their being torn, etc. he is printing the prospectus, but a proof has not yet been struck off. send me some as soon as you get them.[ ] i will send one with a letter to _h. g._--yours eternally, g. borrow. to dr. john bowring museum street, _jany. , ._ my dear sir,--i find that you called at mine, i am sorry that i was not at home. i have been to richard taylor, and you will have the prospectuses this afternoon. i have translated ferroe's 'worthiness of virtue' for you, and the two other pieces i shall translate this evening, and you shall have them all when i come on wednesday evening. if i can at all assist you in anything, pray let me know, and i shall be proud to do it.--yours most truly, g. borrow. to dr. john bowring museum street, _feby. , ._ my dear sir,--to my great pleasure i perceive that the books have all arrived safe. but i find that, instead of an icelandic grammar, you have lent me an _essay on the origin of the icelandic language_, which i here return. thorlakson's grave-ode is superlatively fine, and i translated it this morning, as i breakfasted. i have just finished a translation of baggesen's beautiful poem, and i send it for your inspection.--most sincerely yours, george borrow. _p.s._--when i come we will make the modifications of this piece, if you think any are requisite, for i have various readings in my mind for every stanza. i wish you a very pleasant journey to cambridge, and hope you will procure some names amongst the literati. to dr. john bowring museum street, _march , ._ my dear sir,--i have thought over the museum matter which we were talking about last night, and it appears to me that it would be the very thing for me, provided that it could be accomplished. i should feel obliged if you would deliberate upon the best mode of proceeding, so that when i see you again i may have the benefit of your advice.--yours most sincerely, george borrow. to this letter bowring replied the same day, and his reply is preserved by dr. knapp. he promised to help in the museum project 'by every sort of counsel and creation.' 'i should rejoice to see you _nicked_ in the british museum,' he concludes. to dr. john bowring museum street, _friday evening, may , ._ my dear sir,--i shall be happy to accept your invitation to meet mr. grundtvig to-morrow morning. as at present no doubt seems to be entertained of prince leopold's accepting the sovereignty of greece, would you have any objection to write to him concerning me? i should be very happy to go to greece in his service. i do not wish to go in a civil or domestic capacity, and i have, moreover, no doubt that all such situations have been long since filled up; i wish to go in a military one, for which i am qualified by birth and early habits. you might inform the prince that i have been for years on the commander-in-chief's list for a commission, but that i have not had sufficient interest to procure an appointment. one of my reasons for wishing to reside in greece is, that the mines of eastern literature would be acceptable to me. i should soon become an adept in turkish, and would weave and transmit to you such an anthology as would gladden your very heart. as for _the songs of scandinavia_, all the ballads would be ready before departure, and as i should take books, i would in a few months send you translations of the modern lyric poetry. i hope this letter will not displease you. i do not write it from _flightiness_, but from thoughtfulness. i am uneasy to find myself at four and twenty drifting on the sea of the world, and likely to continue so.--yours most sincerely, g. borrow. this letter is printed in part by dr. knapp, and almost in its entirety by mr. herbert jenkins. dr. knapp has much sound worldly reflection upon its pathetic reference to 'drifting on the sea of the world.' if only, he suggests, borrow had not received that unwise eulogy from allan cunningham about his 'exquisite danish ballads,' if only he had listened to richard ford's advice--which came too late in any case--'avoid poetry and translations of poets'--how much better it would have been. but borrow had not the makings in him of a 'successful' man, and we who enjoy his writings to-day must be contented with the reflection that he had just the kind of life-experience which gave us what he had to give. here borrow holds his place among the poets--an unhappy race. in any case the british museum appointment was not for him, nor the military career. had one or other fallen to his lot, we might have had much literary work of a kind, but certainly not _lavengro_. to return to the correspondence: to dr. john bowring museum st., _june , ._ my dear sir,--i send you _hafbur and signe_ to deposit in the scandinavian treasury, and i should feel obliged by your doing the following things. . hunting up and lending me your anglo-saxon dictionary as soon as possible, for grundtvig wishes me to assist him in the translation of some anglo-saxon proverbs. . when you write to finn magnussen to thank him for his attention, pray request him to send the _feeroiska quida_, or popular songs of ferroe, and also _broder run's historie, or the history of friar rush_, the book which thiele mentions in his _folkesagn_.--yours most sincerely, g. borrow. to dr. john bowring museum street, _june , ._ my dear sir,--i have looked over mr. grundtvig's manuscripts. it is a very long affair, and the language is norman-saxon. £ would not be an extravagant price for a transcript, and so they told him at the museum. however, as i am doing nothing particular at present, and as i might learn something from transcribing it, i would do it for £ . he will call on you to-morrow morning, and then if you please you may recommend me. the character closely resembles the ancient irish, so i think you can answer for my competency.--yours most truly, g. borrow. _p.s._--do not lose the original copies of the danish translations which you sent to the _foreign quarterly_, for i have no duplicates. i think _the roses_ of ingemann was sent; it is not printed; so if it be not returned, we shall have to re-translate it. to dr. john bowring museum st., _sept. , ._ my dear sir,--i return you the bohemian books. i am going to norwich for some short time as i am very unwell, and hope that cold bathing in october and november may prove of service to me. my complaints are, i believe, the offspring of ennui and unsettled prospects. i have thoughts of attempting to get into the french service, as i should like prodigiously to serve under clausel in the next bedouin campaign. i shall leave london next sunday and will call some evening to take my leave; i cannot come in the morning, as early rising kills me.--most sincerely yours, g. borrow. to dr. john bowring willow lane, norwich, _sept. , ._ my dear sir,--i return you my most sincere thanks for your kind letter of the nd inst., and though you have not been successful in your application to the belgian authorities in my behalf, i know full well that you did your utmost, and am only sorry that at my instigation you attempted an impossibility. the belgians seem either not to know or not to care for the opinion of the great cyrus, who gives this advice to his captains: 'take no heed from what countries ye fill up your ranks, but seek recruits as ye do horses, not those particularly who are of your own country, but those of merit.' the belgians will only have such recruits as are born in belgium, and when we consider the _heroic_ manner in which the native belgian army defended the person of their new sovereign in the last conflict with the dutch, can we blame them for their determination? it is rather singular, however, that, resolved as they are to be served only by themselves, they should have sent for , frenchmen to clear their country of a handful of hollanders, who have generally been considered the most unwarlike people in europe, but who, if they had had fair play given them, would long ere this time have replanted the orange flag on the towers of brussels, and made the belgians what they deserve to be--hewers of wood and drawers of water. and now, my dear sir, allow me to reply to a very important part of your letter. you ask me whether i wish to purchase a commission in the british service, because in that case you would speak to the secretary at war about me. i must inform you, therefore, that my name has been for several years upon the list _for the purchase_ of a commission, and i have never yet had sufficient interest to procure an appointment. if i can do nothing better i shall be very glad to purchase; but i will pause two or three months before i call upon you to fulfil your kind promise. it is believed that the militias will be embodied in order to be sent to that unhappy country ireland, and, provided i can obtain a commission in one of them and they are kept in service, it would be better than spending £ upon one in the line. i am acquainted with the colonels of the two norfolk regiments, and i dare say that neither of them would have any objection to receive me. if they are not embodied i will most certainly apply to you, and you may say when you recommend me that, being well grounded in arabic, and having some talent for languages, i might be an acquisition to a corps in one of our eastern colonies. i flatter myself that i could do a great deal in the east provided i could once get there, either in a civil or military capacity. there is much talk at present about translating european books into the two great languages, the arabic and persian. now i believe that with my enthusiasm for those tongues i could, if resident in the east, become in a year or two better acquainted with them than any european has been yet, and more capable of executing such a task. bear this in mind, and if, before you hear from me again, you should have any opportunity to recommend me as a proper person to fill any civil situation in those countries, or to attend any expedition thither, i pray you to lay hold of it, and no conduct of mine shall ever give you reason to repent of it.--i remain, my dear sir, your most obliged and obedient servant, george borrow. _p.s._--present my best remembrances to mrs. bowring and to edgar, and tell them that they will both be starved. there is now a report in the street that twelve corn-stacks are blazing within twenty miles of this place. i have lately been wandering about norfolk, and i am sorry to say that the minds of the peasantry are in a horrible state of excitement. i have repeatedly heard men and women in the harvest-field swear that not a grain of the corn they were cutting should be eaten, and that they would as lieve be hanged as live. i am afraid all this will end in a famine and a rustic war. borrow's next letter to bowring that has been preserved is dated and was written from portugal. with that i will deal when we come to borrow's travels in the peninsula. here it sufficeth to note that during the years of borrow's most urgent need he seems to have found a kind friend if not a very zealous helper in the 'old radical' whom he came to hate so cordially. footnotes: [ ] _autobiographical reflections of sir john bowring. with a brief memoir by lewin b. bowring_. henry s. king and co., london, . [ ] _the romany rye_ appendix, ch. xi. [ ] kindly placed at my disposal by mr. wilfred j. bowring, sir john bowring's grandson. the rights which i hold through the executors of george borrow's stepdaughter, mrs. macoubrey, over the borrow correspondence enable me to publish in their completeness letters which three previous biographers, all of whom have handled the correspondence, have published mainly in fragments. [ ] the manuscript of _the death of balder_ came into the hands of mr. william jarrold of norwich through mr. webber of ipswich, who purchased a large mass of borrow manuscripts that were sold at borrow's death, most of which were re-purchased by dr. knapp. his firm, jarrold and sons, issued _the death of balder, from the danish of johannes ewald_, in . [ ] this and the previous letter are undated, but bear the careful endorsement of dr. john bowring, as he then was, with the date of receipt, presumably the day _after_ the letters were written. [ ] 'prospectus it is proposed to publish, in two volumes octavo price to subscribers £ , s., to non subscribers £ , s. the songs of scandinavia translated by dr. bowring and mr. borrow. dedicated to the king of denmark, by permission of his majesty. * * * * * the first volume will contain about one hundred specimens of the ancient popular ballads of north-western europe, arranged under the heads of heroic, supernatural, historical, and domestic poems. the second volume will represent the modern school of danish poetry, from the time of tullin, giving the most remarkable lyrical productions of ewald, Ölenschlæger, baggesen, ingemann, and many others.' this four-page leaflet contains two blank pages for lists of subscribers, who apparently did not come, and the project seems to have been abandoned. [ ] the prospectus, already quoted, bears the imprint: printed by richard taylor, red lion court, fleet street. chapter xv borrow and the bible society that george borrow should have become an agent for the bible society, then in the third decade of its flourishing career, has naturally excited doubts as to his moral honesty. the position was truly a contrast to an earlier ideal contained in the letter to his norwich friend, roger kerrison, that we have already given, in which, with all the zest of a shelley, he declares that he intends to live in london, 'write plays, poetry, etc., abuse religion, and get myself prosecuted.' but that was in , and borrow had suffered great tribulation in the intervening eight years. he had acquired many languages, wandered far and written much, all too little of which had found a publisher. there was plenty of time for his religious outlook to have changed in the interval, and in any case borrow was no theologian. the negative outlook of 'godless billy taylor,' and the positive outlook of certain evangelical friends with whom he was now on visiting terms, were of small account compared with the imperative need of making a living--and then there was the passionate longing of his nature for a wider sphere--for travelling activity which should not be dependent alone upon the vagabond's crust. what matter if, as harriet martineau--most generous and also most malicious of women, with much kinship with borrow in temperament--said, that his appearance before the public as a devout agent of the bible society excited a 'burst of laughter from all who remembered the old norwich days'; what matter if another 'scribbling woman,' as carlyle called such strident female writers as were in vogue in mid-victorian days--frances power cobbe--thought him 'insincere'; these were unable to comprehend the abnormal heart of borrow, so entirely at one with goethe in _wilhelm meister's wanderjahre_: bleibe nicht am boden heften, frisch gewagt und frisch hinaus! kopf und arm, mit heitern kraften, ueberall sind sie zu haus; wo wir uns der sonne freuen, sind wir jede sorge los; dass wir uns in ihr zerstreuen, darum ist die welt so gross.[ ] here was borrow's opportunity indeed. verily i believe that it would have been the same had it been a society for the propagation of the writings of defoe among the persians. with what zest would borrow have undertaken to translate _moll flanders_ and _captain singleton_ into the languages of hafiz and omar! but the bible society was ready to his hand, and borrow did nothing by halves. a good hater and a staunch friend, he was loyal to the bible society in no half-hearted way, and not the most pronounced quarrel with forces obviously quite out of tune with his nature led to any real slackening of that loyalty. in the end a portion of his property went to swell the bible society's funds.[ ] when borrow became one of its servants, the bible society was only in its third decade. it was founded in the year , and had the names of william wilberforce, granville sharp, and zachary macaulay on its first committee. to circulate the authorised version of the bible without note or comment was the first ideal that these worthy men set before them; never to the entire satisfaction of the great printing organisations, which already had a considerable financial interest in such a circulation. for long years the words 'sold under cost price' upon the bibles of the society excited mingled feelings among those interested in the book trade[ ]. the society's first idea was limited to bibles in the english tongue. this was speedily modified. a bible society was set up in nuremberg to which money was granted by the parent organisation. a bible in the welsh language was circulated broadcast through the principality, and so the movement grew. from the first it had one of its principal centres in norwich, where joseph john gurney's house was open to its committee, and at its annual gatherings at earlham his sister elizabeth fry took a leading part, while wilberforce, charles simeon, the famous preacher, and legh richmond, whose _dairyman's daughter_ borrow failed to appreciate, were of the company. 'uncles buxton and cunningham are here,' we find one of joseph john gurney's daughters writing in describing a bible society gathering. this was john cunningham, rector of harrow, and it was his brother who helped borrow to his position in connection with the society, as we shall see. at the moment of these early meetings borrow is but a boy, meeting joseph gurney on the banks of the river near earlham, and listening to his discourse upon angling. the work of the bible society in russia may be said to have commenced when one john paterson of glasgow, who had been a missionary of the congregational body, went to st. petersburg during those critical months of that napoleon was marching into russia. paterson indeed, william canton tells us,[ ] was 'one of the last to behold the old tartar wall and high brick towers' and other splendours of the moscow which in a month or two were to be consumed by the flames. paterson was back again in st. petersburg before the french were at the gates of moscow, and it is noteworthy that while moscow was burning and the czar was on his way to join his army, this remarkable scot was submitting to prince galitzin a plan for a bible society in st. petersburg, and a memorial to the czar thereon: the plan and memorial were examined by the czar on the th (of december); with a stroke of his pen he gave his sanction--'so be it, alexander'; and as he wrote, the last tattered remnants of the grand army struggled across the ice of the niemen.[ ] the society was formed in january , and when the czar returned to st. petersburg in , after the shattering of napoleon's power, he authorised a new translation of the bible into modern russian. from russia it was not a far cry, where the spirit of evangelisation held sway, to manchuria and to china. to these remote lands the bible society desired to send its literature. in the gospel of st. matthew was printed in st. petersburg in manchu. ten years later the type of the whole new testament in that language was lying in the russian capital. 'all that was required was a manchu scholar to see the work through the press'.[ ] here came the chance for borrow. at this period there resided at oulton hall, suffolk, but a few miles from norwich, a family of the name of skepper, edward and anne his wife, with their two children, breame and mary. mary married in one henry clarke, a lieutenant in the royal navy. he died a few months afterwards of consumption. of this marriage there was a posthumous child, henrietta mary, born but two months after her father's death. mary clarke, as she now was, threw herself with zest into all the religious enthusiasms of the locality, and the rev. francis cunningham, vicar of st. margaret's, lowestoft, was one of her friends. borrow had met mary clarke on one of his visits to lowestoft, and she had doubtless been impressed with his fine presence, to say nothing of the intelligence and varied learning of the young man. the following note, the first communication i can find from borrow to his future wife, indicates how matters stood at the time: to mrs. clarke st. giles, norwich, _october ._ dear madam,--according to promise i transmit you a piece of oriental writing, namely the tale of blue beard, translated into turkish by myself. i wish it were in my power to send you something more worthy of your acceptance, but i hope you will not disdain the gift, insignificant though it be. desiring to be kindly remembered to mr. and mrs. skepper and the remainder of the family,--i remain, dear madam, your most obedient humble servant, george borrow. that borrow owed his introduction to mr. cunningham to mrs. clarke is clear, although cunningham, in his letter to the bible society urging the claims of borrow, refers to the fact that a 'young farmer' in the neighbourhood had introduced him. this was probably her brother, breame skepper. dr. knapp was of the opinion that joseph john gurney obtained borrow his appointment, but the recently published correspondence of borrow with the bible society makes it clear that cunningham wrote--on th december --recommending borrow to the secretary, the rev. andrew brandram. how little he knew of borrow is indicated by the fact that he referred to him as 'independent in circumstances.' brandram told caroline fox many years afterwards that gurney had effected the introduction, but this was merely a lapse of memory. in fact we find borrow asking to be allowed to meet gurney before his departure. in any case he has himself told us, in one of the brief biographies of himself that he wrote, that he promptly walked to london, covering the whole distance of miles in twenty-seven hours, and that his expenses amounted to - / d. laid out in a pint of ale, a half-pint of milk, a roll of bread, and two apples. he reached london in the early morning, called at the offices of the bible society in earl street, and was kindly received by andrew brandram and joseph jowett, the two secretaries. he was asked if he would care to learn manchu, and go to st. petersburg. he was given six months for the task, and doubtless also some money on account. he returned to norwich more luxuriously--by mail coach. in june we find a letter from borrow to jowett, dated from willow lane, norwich, and commencing, 'i have mastered manchu, and i should feel obliged by your informing the committee of the fact, and also my excellent friend, mr. brandram.' a long reply to this by jowett is among my borrow papers, but the bible society clearly kept copies of its letters, and a portion of this one has been printed.[ ] it shows that borrow went through much heart-burning before his destiny was finally settled. at last he was again invited to london, and found himself as one of two candidates for the privilege of going to russia. the examination consisted of a manchu hymn, of which borrow's version seems to have proved the more acceptable, and he afterwards printed it in his _targum_. finally, on the th of july , borrow received a letter from jowett offering him the appointment, with a salary of £ a year and expenses. the letter contained his first lesson in the then unaccustomed discipline of the evangelical vocabulary. borrow had spoken of the prospect of becoming 'useful to the deity, to man, and to himself.' 'doubtless you meant,' commented jowett, 'the prospect of glorifying god,' and jowett frankly tells him that his tone of confidence in speaking of himself 'had alarmed some of the excellent members of our committee.' borrow adapted himself at once, and is congratulated by jowett in a later communication upon the 'truly christian' spirit of his next letter. by an interesting coincidence there was living in norwich at the moment when borrow was about to leave it, a man who had long identified himself with good causes in russia, and had lived in that country for a considerable period of his life. john venning[ ] was born in totnes in , and he is buried in the rosary cemetery at norwich, where he died in , after twenty-eight years' residence in that city. he started for st. petersburg four years after john howard had died, ostensibly on behalf of the commercial house with which he was associated, but with the intention of carrying on the work of that great man in prison reform. alexander i. was on the throne, and he made venning his friend, frequently conversing with him upon religious subjects. he became the treasurer of a society for the humanising of russian prisons; but when nicholas became czar in venning's work became more difficult, although the emperor was sympathetic. venning returned to england in , and thus opportunely, in , was able to give his fellow-townsman letters of introduction to prince galitzin and other russian notables, so that borrow was able to set forth under the happiest auspices--with an entire change of conditions from those eight years of semi-starvation that he was now to leave behind him for ever. borrow left london for st. petersburg on st july , not forgetting to pay his mother before he left the £ he had had to borrow during his time of stress. always devoted to his mother, borrow sent her sums of money at intervals from the moment the power of earning came to him. we shall never know, we can only surmise something of the self-sacrificing devotion of that mother during the years in which borrow had failed to find remunerative work. wherever he wandered there had always been a home in the willow lane cottage. it is probable that much the greater part of the period of his eight years of penury was spent under her roof. yet we may be sure that the good mother never once reproached her son. she had just that touch of idealism in her character that made for faith and hope. in any case never more was borrow to suffer penury, or to be a burden on his mother. henceforth she was to be his devoted care to her dying day. footnotes: [ ] keep not standing, fixed and rooted, briskly venture, briskly roam; head and hand, where'er thou foot it, and stout heart, are still at home. in each land the sun does visit; we are gay whate'er betide. to give room for wandering is it, that the world was made so wide. --carlyle's translation. [ ] through the will of his stepdaughter, henrietta macoubrey. [ ] although the bible society then as now purchased all the sheets of its bibles from the three authorised sources of production--the king's printers who hold a patent, and the universities of oxford and cambridge, which hold licences to print--these exclusive privileges being granted in order that the text of the bible should be maintained with accuracy. [ ] let me here acknowledge with gratitude my indebtedness to that fine work _the history of the british foreign bible society_ ( - , murray), by william canton, which is worthy of the accomplished author of _the invisible playmate_. an earlier history of the society, by the rev. george browne, published in , has necessarily been superseded by mr. canton's book. [ ] canton's _history of the bible society_, vol. i. . [ ] _ibid._, vol. ii. . [ ] in _letters from george borrow to the bible society_ (hodder and stoughton), . [ ] see _memoirs of john venning, esq., formerly of st. petersburgh and late of norwich. with numerous notices from his manuscripts relative to the imperial family of russia_. by thulia s. henderson. london: knight and son, . borrow's name is not once mentioned, but there is a slight reference to him on pages and . chapter xvi st. petersburg and john p. hasfeld borrow travelled by way of hamburg and lübeck to travemünde, whence he went by sea to st. petersburg, where he arrived on the twentieth of august . he was back in london in september , and thus it will be seen that he spent two years in russia. after the hard life he had led, everything was now rose-coloured. 'petersburg is the finest city in the world,' he wrote to mr. jowett; 'neither london nor paris nor any other european capital which i have visited has sufficient pretensions to enter into comparison with it in respect to beauty and grandeur.' but the striking thing about borrow in these early years was his capacity for making friends. he had not been a week in st. petersburg before he had gained the regard of one, william glen, who, in , had been engaged by the bible society to translate the old testament into persian. the clever scot, of whom borrow was informed by a competent judge that he was 'a persian scholar of the first water,' was probably too heretical for the society which recalled him, much to his chagrin. 'he is a very learned man, but of very simple and unassuming manners,' wrote borrow to jowett.[ ] his version of the _psalms_ appeared in , and of _proverbs_ in . thus he was going home in despair, but seems to have had good talk on the way with borrow in st. petersburg. in his complete old testament in persian appeared in edinburgh. this william glen has been confused with another william glen, a law student, who taught carlyle greek, but they had nothing in common. borrow and carlyle could not possibly have had friends in common. borrow was drawn towards this william glen by his enthusiasm for the persian language. but glen departed out of his life very quickly. hasfeld, who entered it about the same time, was to stay longer. hasfeld was a dane, now thirty-three years of age, who, after a period in the foreign office at copenhagen, had come to st. petersburg as an interpreter to the danish legation, but made quite a good income as a professor of european languages in cadet schools and elsewhere. the english language and literature would seem to have been his favourite topic. his friendship for borrow was a great factor in borrow's life in russia and elsewhere. if borrow's letters to hasfeld should ever turn up, they will prove the best that he wrote. hasfeld's letters to borrow were preserved by him. three of them are in my possession. others were secured by dr. knapp, who made far too little use of them. they are all written in danish on foreign notepaper: flowery, grandiloquent productions we may admit, but if we may judge a man by his correspondents, we have a revelation of a more human borrow than the correspondence with the friends at earl street reveals: st. petersburg, _ / november ._ my dear friend,--much water has run through the neva since i last wrote to you, my last letter was dated / th april; the last letter i received from you was dated madrid, rd may, and i now see with regret that it is still unanswered; it is, however, a good thing that i have not written as often to you as i have thought about you, for otherwise you would have received a couple of letters daily, because the sun never sets without you, my lean friend, entering into my imagination. i received the spanish letter a day or two before i left for stockholm, and it made the journey with me, for it was in my mind to send you an epistle from svea's capital, but there were so many petty hindrances that i was nearly forgetting myself, let alone correspondence. i lived in stockholm as if each day were to be my last, swam in champagne, or rested in girls' embraces. you doubtless blush for me; you may do so, but don't think that that conviction will murder my almost shameless candour, the only virtue which i possess, in a superfluous degree. in sweden i tried to be lovable, and succeeded, to the astonishment of myself and everybody else. i reaped the reward on the most beautiful lips, which only too often had to complain that the fascinating dane was faithless like the foam of the sea and the ice of spring. every wrinkle which seriousness had impressed on my face vanished in joy and smiles; my frozen heart melted and pulsed with the rapid beat of gladness; in short, i was not recognisable. now i have come back to my old wrinkles, and make sacrifice again on the altar of friendship, and when the incense, this letter, reaches you, then prove to me your pleasure, wherever you may be, and let an echo of friendship's voice resound from granada's alhambra or sahara's deserts. but i know that you, good soul, will write and give me great pleasure by informing me that you are happy and well; when i get a letter from you my heart rejoices, and i feel as if i were happy, and that is what happiness consists of. therefore, let your soldierlike letters march promptly to their place of arms--paper--and move in close columns to st. petersburg, where they will find warm winter quarters. i have received a letter from my correspondent in london, mr. edward thomas allan, no. north audley st.; he informs me that my manuscript has been promenading about, calling on publishers without having been well received; some of them would not even look at it, because it smelt of russian leather; others kept it for three or six weeks and sent it back with 'thanks for the loan.' they probably used it to get rid of the moth out of their old clothes. it first went to longman and co.'s, paternoster row; bull of hollis st.; saunders and otley, conduit st.; john murray of albemarle st., who kept it for three weeks; and finally it went to bentley of new burlington st., who kept it for six weeks and returned it; now it is to pay a visit to a mr. colburn, and if he won't have the abandoned child, i will myself care for it. if this finds you in london, which is quite possible, see whether you can do anything for me in this matter. thank god, i shall not buy bread with the shillings i perhaps may get for a work which has cost me seventy nights, for i cannot work during the day. in _the athenænum_,[ ] no. , issued on the rd march this year, you will find an article which i wrote, and in which you are referred to; in the same paper you will also find an extract from my translation. i hope that article will meet with your approbation. ivan semionewitch sends his kind regards to you. i dare not write any more, for then i should make the letter a double one, and it may perhaps go after you to the continent; if it reaches you in england, write at once to your sincere friend, j. p. hasfeld. my address is, stieglitz and co., st. petersburg. st. petersburg, _ th/ st july ._ dear friend,--i do not know how i shall begin, for you have been a long time without any news from me, and the fault is mine, for the last letter was from you; as a matter of fact, i did produce a long letter for you last year in september, but you did not get it, because it was too long to send by post and i had no other opportunity, so that, as i am almost tired of the letter, you shall, nevertheless, get it one day, for perhaps you will find something interesting in it; i cannot do so, for i never like to read over my own letters. six days ago i commenced my old hermit life; my sisters left on the rd/ th july, and are now, with god's help, in denmark. they left with the french steamer _amsterdam_, and had two russian ladies with them, who are to spend a few months with us and visit the sea watering-places. these ladies are the misses koladkin, and have learnt english from me, and became my sisters' friends as soon as they could understand each other. my sisters have also made such good progress in your language that they would be able to arouse your astonishment. they read and understand everything in english, and thank you very much for the pleasure you gave them with your 'targum'; they know how to appreciate 'king christian stood by the high mast,' and everything which you have translated of languages with which they are acquainted. they have not had more than sixty real lessons in english. after they had taken ten lessons, i began, to their great despair, to speak english, and only gave them a danish translation when it was absolutely necessary. the result was that they became so accustomed to english that it scarcely ever occurs to them to speak danish together; when one cannot get away from me one must learn from me. the brothers and sisters remaining behind are now also to go to school when they get home, for they have recognised how pleasant it is to speak a language which servants and those around one do not understand. during all the winter my dearest thought was how, this summer, i was going to visit my long, good friend, who was previously lean and who is now fat, and how i should let him fatten me a little, so as to be able to withstand better the long winter in russia; i would then in the autumn, like the bears, go into my winter lair fat and sleek, and of all these romantic thoughts none has materialised, but i have always had the joy of thinking them and of continuing them; i can feel that i smile when such ideas run through my mind. i am convinced that if i had nothing else to do than to employ my mind with pleasant thoughts, i should become fat on thoughts alone. the principal reason why this real pleasure journey had to be postponed, was that my eldest sister, hanna, became ill about easter, and it was not until the end of june that she was well enough to travel. i will not speak about the confusion which a sick lady can cause in a bachelor's house, occasionally i almost lost my patience. for the amount of roubles which that illness cost i could very well have travelled to america and back again to st. petersburg; i have, however, the consolation in my reasonable trouble that the money which the doctor and chemist have received was well spent. the lady got about again after she had caused me and augusta just as much pain, if not more, than she herself suffered. perhaps you know how amiable people are when they suffer from liver trouble; i hope you may never get it. i am not anxious to have it either, for you may do what the devil you like for such persons, and even then they are not satisfied. we have had great festivals here by reason of the emperor's marriage; i did not move a step to see the pageantry; moreover, it is difficult to find anything fresh in it which would afford me enjoyment; i have seen illuminations and fireworks, the only attractive thing there was must have been the king of prussia; but as i do not know that good man, i have not very great interest in him either; nor, so i am told, did he ask for me, and he went away without troubling himself in the slightest about me; it was a good thing that i did not bother him. j. p. h. st. petersburg, _ th april/ th may ._ dear friend,--i thank you for your friendly letter of the th april, and also for the invitation to visit you. i am thinking of leaving russia soon, perhaps permanently, for twenty-seven years are enough of this climate. it is as yet undecided when i leave, for it depends on business matters which must be settled, but i hope it will be soon. what i shall do i do not yet know either, but i shall have enough to live on; perhaps i shall settle down in denmark. it is very probable that i shall come to london in the summer, and then i shall soon be at yarmouth with you, my old true friend. it was a good thing that you at last wrote, for it would have been too bad to extend your disinclination to write letters even to me. the last period one stays in a country is strange, and i have many persons whom i have to separate from. if you want anything done in russia, let me know promptly; when i am in movement i will write, so that you may know where i am, and what has become of me. i have been ill nearly all the winter, but now feel daily better, and when i get on the water i shall soon be well. we have already had hot and thundery weather, but it has now become cool again. i have already sold the greater part of my furniture, and am living in furnished apartments which cost me seventy roubles per month; i shall soon be tired of that. i am expecting a letter from denmark which will settle matters, and then i can get ready and spread my wings to get out into the world, for this is not the world, but russia. i see you have changed houses, for last year you lived at no. . with kindest regards to your dear ones, i am, dear friend, yours sincerely, john p. hasfeld.[ ] footnotes: [ ] darlow's _george borrow's letters to the bible society_, page . there are twenty letters written by borrow from russia to the bible society, contained in t. h. darlow's _letters of george borrow to the british and foreign bible society_, several of which, in the original manuscripts, are in my possession. there are as many also in knapp's _life of borrow_, and these last are far more interesting, being addressed to his mother and other friends. i have several other letters concerned with borrow's bible society work in russia, but they are not inspiring. borrow's correspondence with hasfeld, of which knapp gives us glimpses, is more bracing, and the two or three letters from that admirable dane that are in my collection i am glad to print here. [ ] in the _athenæum_ for march , , there is a short, interesting letter, dated from st. petersburg, signed j. p. h. this was obviously written by hasfeld. 'here your journal is found in every well furnished library,' he writes, 'and yet not a passing word do you ever bestow upon us,' and then, to the extent of nearly five columns, he discourses upon the present state of russian literature, and has very much to say about his friend george borrow: 'will it be thought ultra-barbarian if i mention that mr. george borrow concluded, in the autumn, the publication of the new testament in the mandchou language? remember, if you please, that he was sent here for the express purpose by the british and foreign bible society of london. the translation was made for the society by mr. lipóftsof, a gentleman in the service of the russian department of foreign affairs, who has spent the greater part of an industrious life in peking and the east. i can only say that it is a beautiful edition of an oriental work, that it is printed with great care on a fine imitation of chinese paper made on purpose. at the outset, mr. borrow spent weeks and months in the printing-office to make the compositors acquainted with the intricate mandchou types, and that, as for the contents, i am assured by well-informed persons, that this translation is remarkable for the correctness and fidelity with which it has been executed.' then hasfeld goes on to describe borrow's small volume, _targum_: 'the exquisite delicacy with which he has caught and rendered the beauties of his well-chosen originals,' he says, 'is a proof of his learning and genius. the work is a pearl in literature, and, like pearls, it derives value from its scarcity, for the whole edition was limited to about a hundred copies.' then hasfeld gives two poems from the book, which really justify his eulogy, for the poetic quality of _targum_ has not had justice done to it by borrow's later critics. [ ] the name is frequently spelt 'hasfeldt,' but i have followed the spelling not only of hasfeld's signature in his letters in my possession, but also of the printed addressed envelope which he was in the habit of forwarding to his friends in his letters. chapter xvii the manchu bible--_targum_--_the talisman_ the bible society wanted the bible to be set up in the manchu language, the official language of the chinese court and government. a russian scholar named lipóftsof, who had spent twenty years in china, undertook in to translate the new testament into manchu for £ . lipóftsof had done his work in , and had sent two manuscript copies to london. in the rev. william swan of the london missionary society in passing through st. petersburg discovered a transcript of a large part of the old and new testament in manchu, made by one pierot, a french jesuit, many years before. this transcript was unavailable, but a second was soon afterwards forthcoming for free publication if a qualified manchu scholar could be found to see it through the press. mr. swan's communication of these facts to the bible society in london gave borrow his opportunity. it was his task to find the printers, buy the paper, and hire the qualified compositors for setting the type. it must be admitted borrow worked hard for his £ a year. first he had to ask the diplomatists for permission from the russian government, not now so friendly to british missionary zeal. the russian bible society had been suppressed in . he succeeded here. then he had to continue his studies in the manchu language. he had written from norwich to mr. jowett on th june , 'i have mastered manchu,' but on th january we find him writing to the same correspondent: 'i pay about six shillings, english, for each lesson, which i grudge not, for the perfect acquirement of manchu is one of my most ardent wishes.'[ ] then he found the printers--a german firm, schultz and beneze--who probably printed the two little books of borrow's own for him as a 'make weight.' he purchased paper for his manchu translation with an ability that would have done credit to a modern newspaper manager. every detail of these transactions is given in his letters to the bible society, and one cannot but be amused at borrow's explanation to the reverend secretary of the little subterfuges by which he proposed to 'best' the godless for the benefit of the godly: knowing but too well that it is the general opinion of the people of this country that englishmen are made of gold, and that it is only necessary to ask the most extravagant price for any article in order to obtain it, i told no person, to whom i applied, who i was, or of what country; and i believe i was supposed to be a german.[ ] then came the composing or setting up of the type of the book. when borrow was called to account by his london employers, who were not sure whether he was wasting time, he replied: 'i have been working in the printing-office, as a common compositor, between ten and thirteen hours every day.' in another letter borrow records further difficulties with the printers after the composition had been effected. several of the working printers, it appears, 'went away in disgust,' then he adds: i was resolved 'to do or die,' and, instead of distressing and perplexing the committee with complaints, to write nothing until i could write something perfectly satisfactory, as i now can; and to bring about that result i have spared neither myself nor my own money. i have toiled in a close printing-office the whole day, during ninety degrees of heat, for the purpose of setting an example, and have bribed people to work whom nothing but bribes would induce so to do. i am obliged to say all this in self-justification. no member of the bible society would ever have heard a syllable respecting what i have undergone but for the question, 'what has mr. borrow been about?'[ ] it is not my intention to add materially to the letters of borrow from russia and from spain that have already been published, although many are in my possession. they reveal an aspect of the life of borrow that has been amply dealt with by other biographers, and it is an aspect that interests me but little. here, however, is one hitherto unpublished letter that throws much light upon borrow's work at this time: to the rev. andrew brandram st. petersburg, _ th oct. ._ reverend sir,--supposing that you will not be displeased to hear how i am proceeding, i have taken the liberty to send a few lines by a friend[ ] who is leaving russia for england. since my arrival in petersburg i have been occupied eight hours every day in transcribing a manchu manuscript of the old testament belonging to baron schilling, and i am happy to be able to say that i have just completed the last of it, the rev. mr. swan, the scottish missionary, having before my arrival copied the previous part. mr. swan departs to his mission in siberia in about two months, during most part of which time i shall be engaged in collating our transcripts with the original. it is a great blessing that the bible society has now prepared the whole of the sacred scriptures in manchu, which will doubtless, when printed, prove of incalculable benefit to tens of millions who have hitherto been ignorant of the will of god, putting their trust in idols of wood and stone instead of in a crucified saviour. i am sorry to say that this country in respect to religion is in a state almost as lamentable as the darkest regions of the east, and the blame of this rests entirely upon the greek hierarchy, who discountenance all attempts to the spiritual improvement of the people, who, poor things, are exceedingly willing to receive instruction, and, notwithstanding the scantiness of their means in general for the most part, eagerly buy the tracts which a few pious english christians cause to be printed and hawked in the neighbourhood. but no one is better aware, sir, than yourself that without the scriptures men can never be brought to a true sense of their fallen and miserable state, and of the proper means to be employed to free themselves from the thraldom of satan. the last few copies which remained of the new testament in russian were purchased and distributed a few days ago, and it is lamentable to be compelled to state that at the present there appears no probability of another edition being permitted in the modern language. it is true that there are near twenty thousand copies of the sclavonic bible in the shop which is entrusted with the sale of the books of the late russian bible society, but the sclavonian translation is upwards of a thousand years old, having been made in the eighth century, and differs from the dialect spoken at present in russia as much as the old saxon does from the modern english. therefore it cannot be of the slightest utility to any but the learned, that is, to about ten individuals in one thousand. i hope and trust that the almighty will see fit to open some door for the illumination of this country, for it is not to be wondered if vice and crime be very prevalent here when the people are ignorant of the commandments of god. is it to be wondered that the people follow their every day pursuits on the sabbath when they know not the unlawfulness of so doing? is it to be wondered that they steal when only in dread of the laws of the country, and are not deterred by the voice of conscience which only exists in a few. this accounts for their profanation of their sabbath, their proneness to theft, etc. it is only surprising that so much goodness is to be found in their nature as is the case, for they are mild, polite, and obliging, and in most of their faces is an expression of great kindness and benignity. i find that the slight knowledge which i possess of the russian tongue is of the utmost service to me here, for the common opinion in england that only french and german are spoken by persons of any respectability in petersburg is a great and injurious error. the nobility, it is true, for the most part speak french when necessity obliges them, that is, when in company with foreigners who are ignorant of russian, but the affairs of most people who arrive in petersburg do not lie among the nobility, therefore a knowledge of the language of the country, unless you associate solely with your own countrymen, is indispensable. the servants speak no language but their native tongue, and also nine out of ten of the middle classes of russians. i might as well address mr. lipóftsof, who is to be my coadjutor in the edition of the new testament (in manchu) in hebrew as in either french or german, for though he can read the first a little he cannot speak a word of it or understand when spoken. i will now conclude by wishing you all possible happiness. i have the honour to be, etc., george borrow. when the work was done at so great a cost of money,[ ] and of energy and enthusiasm on the part of george borrow, it was found that the books were useless. most of these new testaments were afterwards sent out to china, and copies distributed by the missionaries there as opportunities offered. it was found, however, that the manchus in china were able to read chinese, preferring it to their own language, which indeed had become almost confined to official use.[ ] in the year editions of _st. matthew_ and _st. mark_ were published in manchu and chinese side by side, the manchu text being a reprint of that edited by borrow, and these books are still in use in chinese turkestan. but borrow had here to suffer one of the many disappointments of his life. if not actually a gypsy he had all a gypsy's love of wandering. no impartial reader of the innumerable letters of this period can possibly claim that there was in borrow any of the proselytising zeal or evangelical fervour which wins for the names of henry martyn and of david livingstone so much honour and sympathy even among the least zealous. at the best borrow's zeal for religion was of the order of dr. keate, the famous headmaster of eton--'blessed are the pure in heart ... if you are not pure in heart, by god, i'll flog you!' borrow had got his new testaments printed, and he wanted to distribute them because he wished to see still more of the world, and had no lack of courage to carry out any well defined scheme of the organisation which was employing him. borrow had thrown out constant hints in his letters home. people had suggested to him, he said, that he was printing testaments for which he would never find readers. if you wish for readers, they had said to him, 'you must seek them among the natives of pekin and the fierce hordes of desert tartary.' and it was this last most courageous thing that borrow proposed. let him, he said to mr. jowett, fix his headquarters at kiachta upon the northern frontier of china. the society should have an agent there: i am a person of few words, and will therefore state without circumlocution that i am willing to become that agent. i speak russ, manchu, and the tartar or broken turkish of the russian steppes, and have also some knowledge of chinese, which i might easily improve at kiachta, half of the inhabitants of which town are chinamen. i am therefore not altogether unqualified for such an adventure.[ ] the bible committee considered this and other plans through the intervening months, and it seems clear that at the end they would have sanctioned some form of missionary work for borrow in the chinese empire; but on st june he wrote to say that the russian government, solicitous of maintaining good relations with china, would not grant him a passport across siberia except on the condition that he carried not one single manchu bible thither.[ ] and so borrow's dreams were left unfulfilled. he was never to see china or the farther east, although, because he was a dreamer and like his hero, defoe, a bit of a liar, he often said he had. in september he was back in england awaiting in his mother's home in norwich further commissions from his friends of the bible society. * * * * * work on the manchu new testament did not entirely absorb borrow's activities in st. petersburg. he seems to have made a proposition to another organisation, as the following letter indicates. the proposal does not appear to have borne any fruit: prayer book and homily society, no. exeter hall, london, _january th, ._ sir,--your letters dated july and november , , and addressed to the rev. f. cunningham, have been laid before the committee of the prayer book and homily society, who have agreed to print the translation of the first three homilies into the russian language at st. petersburg, under the direction of mr. and mrs. biller, so soon as they shall have caused the translation to undergo a thorough revision, and shall have certified the same to this society. i write by this post to mrs. biller on the subject. in respect to the second homily in manchu, if we rightly understand your statement, an edition of five hundred copies may be sent forth, the whole expense of which, including paper and printing, will amount to about £ . if we are correct in this the committee are willing to bear the expense of five hundred copies, by way of trial, their wish being this, viz.: that printed copies should be put into the hands of the most competent persons, who shall be invited to offer such remarks on the translation as shall seem desirable; especially that dr. morrison of canton should be requested to submit copies to the inspection of manchu scholars as he shall think fit. when the translation has been thoroughly revised the committee will consider the propriety of printing a larger edition. they think that the plan of submitting copies in letters of gold to the inspection of the highest personages in china should probably be deferred till the translation has been thus revised. we hope that this resolution will be satisfactory to you; but the committee, not wishing to prescribe a narrower limit than such as is strictly necessary, have directed me to say, that should the expense of an edition of five hundred copies of the homily in manchu exceed £ , they will still be willing to meet it, but not beyond the sum of £ . should you print this edition be pleased to furnish us with twenty-five copies, and send twenty-five copies at the least to rev. dr. morrison, at canton, if you have the means of doing so; if not, we should wish to receive fifty copies, that _we_ may send twenty-five to canton. in this case you will be at liberty to draw a bill upon us for the money, within the limits specified above, in such manner as is most convenient. possibly mr. and mrs. biller may be able to assist you in this matter. believe me, dear sir, yours most sincerely, c. r. pritchett. mr. g. borrow. i am not aware whether i am addressing a clergyman or a layman, and therefore shall direct as above. will you be so kind as to send the ms. of the russian homilies to mrs. biller? during borrow's last month or two in st. petersburg he printed two thin octavo volumes of translations--some of them verses which, undeterred by the disheartening reception of earlier efforts, he had continued to make from each language in succession that he had the happiness to acquire, although most of the poems are from his old portfolios. these little books were named _targum_ and _the talisman_. dr. knapp calls the latter an appendix to the former. they are absolutely separate volumes of verse, and i reproduce their title-pages from the only copies that borrow seems to have reserved for himself out of the hundred printed of each. the publishers, it will be seen, are the german firm that printed the manchu new testament, schultz and beneze. borrow's preface to _targum_ is dated 'st. petersburg, june , .' here in _targum_ we find the trial poem which in competition with a rival candidate had won him the privilege of going to russia for the bible society--_the mountain chase_. here also among new verses are some from the arabic, the persian, and the turkish. if it be true, as his friend hasfeld said, that here was a poet who was able to render another without robbing the garland of a single leaf--that would but prove that the poetry which borrow rendered was not of the first order. nor, taking another standard--the capacity to render the ballad with a force that captures 'the common people,'--can we agree with william bodham donne, who was delighted with _targum_ and said that 'the language and rhythm are vastly superior to macaulay's _lays of ancient rome_.' in _the talisman_ we have four little poems from the russian of pushkin followed by another poem, _the mermaid_, by the same author. three other poems in russian and polish complete the booklet. borrow left behind him in st. petersburg with his friend, hasfeld, a presentation copy for pushkin, who, when he received it, expressed regret that he had not met his translator while borrow was in st. petersburg. [illustration: title page from "targum"] [illustration: title page from "the talisman"] footnotes: [ ] darlow, _letters to the bible society_, p. . [ ] _ibid._ p. . [ ] darlow, _letters to the bible society_, pp. , . [ ] mr. glen. [ ] the manchu version--_i.e._ the transcript of pierot's ms. of the old testament and copies of lipóftsof's translation of the new--cost the society in all £ . canton: _history of the bible society_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] darlow; _letters to the bible society_, p. . [ ] darlow: _letters to the bible society_, p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . chapter xviii three visits to spain from his journey to russia borrow had acquired valuable experience, but nothing in the way of fame, although his mother had been able to record in a letter to st. petersburg that she had heard at a bible society gathering in norwich his name 'sounded through the hall' by mr. joseph john gurney and mr. cunningham, to her great delight. 'all this is very pleasing to me,' she said, 'god bless you!' even more pleasing to borrow must have been a letter from mary clarke, his future wife, who was able to tell him that she heard francis cunningham refer to him as 'one of the most extraordinary and interesting individuals of the present day.' but these tributes were not all-satisfying to an ambitious man, and this borrow undoubtedly was. his russian journey was followed by five weeks of idleness in norwich varied by the one excitement of attending a bible meeting at oulton with the reverend francis cunningham in the chair, when 'mr. george borrow from russia'[ ] made one of the usual conventional missionary speeches, mary clarke's brother, breame skepper, being also among the orators. borrow begged for more work from the society. he urged the desirability of carrying out its own idea of an investigation in portugal and perhaps also in spain, and hinted that he could write a small volume concerning what he saw and heard which might cover the expense of the expedition.[ ] so much persistency conquered. borrow sailed from london on th november , and reached lisbon on th november, this his first official visit to the peninsula lasting exactly eleven months. the next four years and six months were to be spent mainly in spain.[ ] broadly the time divides itself in the following fashion: st tour (_via_ lisbon), nov. to oct. . lisbon. mafia. evora. badajoz. madrid. nd tour (_via_ cadiz), nov. to sept. . cadiz. lisbon. seville. madrid. salamanca. coruña. oviedo. toledo. rd tour (_via_ cadiz), dec. to march . cadiz. seville. madrid. gibraltar. tangier. what a world of adventure do the mere names of these places call up. borrow entered the peninsula at an exciting period of its history. traces of the great war in which napoleon's legions faced those of wellington still abounded. here and there a bridge had disappeared, and some of borrow's strange experiences on ferry-boats were indirectly due to the results of napoleon's ambition.[ ] everywhere there was still war in the land. portugal indeed had just passed through a revolution. the partisans of the infant queen maria ii. had been fighting with her uncle dom miguel for eight years, and it was only a few short months before borrow landed at lisbon that maria had become undisputed queen. spain, to which borrow speedily betook himself, was even in a worse state. she was in the throes of a six years' war. queen isabel ii., a child of three, reigned over a chaotic country with her mother dona christina as regent; her uncle don carlos was a formidable claimant to the throne and had the support of the absolutist and clerical parties. borrow's political sympathies were always in the direction of absolutism; but in religion, although a staunch church of england man, he was certainly an anti-clerical one in roman catholic spain. in any case he steered judiciously enough between contending factions, describing the fanatics of either side with vigour and sometimes with humour. mr. brandram's injunction to borrow 'to be on his guard against becoming too much committed to one particular party' seems to have been unnecessary. borrow's three expeditions to spain have more to be said for them than had his journey to st. petersburg. the work of the bible society was and is at its highest point of human service when distributing either the old or the new testament in christian countries, spain, england, or another. few there be to-day in any country who, in the interests of civilisation, would deny to the bible a wider distribution. in a remote village of spain a bible society's colporteur, carrying a coloured banner, sold me a copy of cipriano de valera's new testament for a peseta. the villages of spain that borrow visited could even at that time compare favourably morally and educationally, with the villages of his own county of norfolk at the same period. the morals of the agricultural labourers of the english fen country eighty years ago were a scandal, and the peasantry read nothing; more than half of them could not read. they had not, moreover, the humanising passion for song and dance that andalusia knew. but this is not to deny that the bible society under borrow's instrumentality did a good work in spain, nor that they did it on the whole in a broad and generous way. borrow admits that there was a section of the roman catholic clergy 'favourably disposed towards the circulation of the gospel,'[ ] and the society actually fixed upon a roman catholic version of the spanish bible, that by scio de san miguel,[ ] although this version borrow considered a bad translation. much has been said about the aim of the bible society to provide the bible without notes or comment--in its way a most meritorious aim, although then as now opposed to the instinct of a large number of the priests of the roman church. it is true that their attitude does not in any way possess the sanction of the ecclesiastical authorities. it may be urged, indeed, that the interpretation of the bible by a priest, usually of mature judgment, and frequently of a higher education than the people with whom he is associated, is at least as trustworthy as its interpretation at the hands of very partially educated young women and exceedingly inadequately equipped young men who to-day provide interpretation and comment in so many of the sunday schools of protestant countries.[ ] behold george borrow, then, first in portugal and a little later in spain, upon his great mission--avowedly at first a tentative mission--rather to see what were the prospects for bible distribution than to distribute bibles. but borrow's zeal knew no such limitations. before very long he had a shop in one of the principal streets of madrid--the calle del principe--much more in the heart of things than the very prosperous bible society of our day ventures upon.[ ] meanwhile he is at present in portugal not very certain of his movements, and he writes to his old friend dr. bowring the following letter with a request with which bowring complied, although in the coldest manner: to dr. john bowring. evora in the alemtejo, _ decr. ._ dear sir,--pray excuse me for troubling you with these lines. i write to you, as usual, for assistance in my projects, convinced that you will withhold none which it may be in your power to afford, more especially when by so doing you will perhaps be promoting the happiness of our fellow creatures. i returned from dear, glorious russia about three months since, after having edited there the manchu new testament in eight volumes. i am now in portugal, for the society still do me the honour of employing me. for the last six weeks i have been wandering amongst the wilds of the alemtejo and have introduced myself to its rustics, banditti, etc., and become very popular amongst them, but as it is much more easy to introduce oneself to the cottage than the hall (though i am not entirely unknown in the latter), i want you to give or procure me letters to the most liberal and influential minds of portugal. i likewise want a letter from the foreign office to lord de walden, in a word, i want to make what interest i can towards obtaining the admission of the gospel of jesus into the public schools of portugal which are about to be established. i beg leave to state that this is _my plan_, and not other persons', as i was merely sent over to portugal to observe the disposition of the people, therefore i do not wish to be named as an agent of the b.s., but as a person who has plans for the mental improvement of the portuguese; should i receive _these letters_ within the space of six weeks it will be time enough, for before setting up my machine in portugal i wish to lay the foundation of something similar in spain. when you send the portuguese letters direct thus: mr. george borrow, to the care of mr. wilby, rua dos restauradores, lisbon. i start for spain to-morrow, and i want letters something similar (there is impudence for you) for madrid, _which i should like to have as soon as possible_. i do not much care at present for an introduction to the ambassador at madrid, as i shall not commence operations seriously in spain until i have disposed of portugal. i will not apologise for writing to you in this manner, for you know me, but i will tell you one thing, which is that the letter which you procured for me, on my going to st. petersburg, from lord palmerston, assisted me wonderfully. i called twice at your domicile on my return; the first time you were in scotland, the second in france, and i assure you i cried with vexation. remember me to mrs. bowring and god bless you. g. borrow. _p.s._--i am told that mendizábal is liberal, and has been in england; perhaps he would assist me. during this eleven months' stay in the peninsula borrow made his way to madrid, and here he interviewed the british minister, sir george villiers, afterwards fourth earl of clarendon, and had received a quite remarkable encouragement from him for the publication and distribution of the bible. he also interviewed the spanish prime minister, mendizábal, 'whom it is as difficult to get nigh as it is to approach the north pole,' and he has given us a picturesque account of the interview in _the bible in spain_. it was agreed that copies of the spanish testament were to be reprinted from scio's text at the expense of the bible society, and all these borrow was to handle as he thought fit. then borrow made his way to granada, where, under date th august , his autograph may be read in the visitors' book of the alhambra: _george borrow norvicensis._ here he studied his friends the gypsies, now and probably then, as we may assume from his _zincali_, the sordid scum on the hillside of that great city, but now more assuredly than then unutterably demoralised by the numerous but curious tourists who visit this rabble under police protection, the very policeman or gendarme not despising a peseta for his protective services. but borrow's hobbies included the romanies of every land, and a year later he produced and published a gypsy version of the gospel of st. luke.[ ] in october borrow was back in england. he found that the bible society approved of him. in november of the same year he left london for cadiz on his second visit to spain. the journey is described in _the bible in spain_;[ ] but here, from my borrow papers, is a kind letter that mr. brandram wrote to borrow's mother on the occasion: [illustration: portion of a letter from george borrow to the rev. samuel brandram.] no. east street, _jany. , ._ my dear madam,--i have the joyful news to send you that your son has again safely arrived at madrid. his journey we were aware was exceedingly perilous, more perilous than we should have allowed him to take had we sooner known the extent of the danger. he begs me to write, intending to write to you himself without delay. he has suffered from the intense cold, but nothing beyond inconvenience. accept my congratulations, and my best wishes that your dear son may be preserved to be your comfort in declining years--and may the god of all consolation himself deign to comfort your heart by the truths of that holy volume your son is endeavouring, in connection with our society, to spread abroad.--believe me, dear madam, yours faithfully, a. brandram. mrs. borrow, norwich. a brilliant letter from seville followed soon after, and then he went on to madrid, not without many adventures. 'the cold nearly killed me,' he said. 'i swallowed nearly two bottles of brandy; it affected me no more than warm water.' this to kindly mr. brandram, who clearly had no teetotaller proclivities, for the letter, as he said, 'filled his heart with joy and gladness.' meanwhile those five thousand copies of the new testament were a-printing, borrow superintending the work with the assistance of a new friend, dr. usóz. 'as soon as the book is printed and issued,' he tells mr. brandram, 'i will ride forth from madrid into the wildest parts of spain, ...' and so, after some correspondence with the society which is quite entertaining, he did. the reader of _the bible in spain_ will note some seventy separate towns and villages that borrow visited, not without countless remarkable adventures on the way. 'i felt some desire,' he says in _the romany rye_, 'to meet with one of those adventures which upon the roads of england are generally as plentiful as blackberries in autumn.' assuredly in this tour of spanish villages borrow met with no lack of adventures. the committee of the bible society authorised this tour in march , and in may borrow started off on horseback attended by his faithful servant, antonio. this tour was to last five months, and 'if i am spared,' he writes to his friend hasfeld, 'and have not fallen a prey to sickness, carlists, banditti, or wild beasts, i shall return to madrid.' he hopes a little later, he tells hasfeld, to be sent to china. we have then a glimpse of his servant, the excellent antonio, which supplements that contained in _the bible of spain_. 'he is inordinately given to drink, and is of so quarrelsome a disposition that he is almost constantly involved in some broil.'[ ] not all his weird experiences were conveyed in his letters to the bible society's secretary. some of these letters, however--the more highly coloured ones--were used in _the bible in spain_, word for word, and wonderful reading they must have made for the secretary, who indeed asked for more, although, with a view to keeping borrow humble--an impossible task--mr. brandram takes occasion to say 'mr. graydon's letters, as well as yours, are deeply interesting,' graydon being a hated rival, as we shall see. the question of l.s.d. was also not forgotten by the assiduous secretary. 'i know you are no accountant,' he writes, 'but do not forget there are some who are,' and a financial document was forwarded to borrow about this time which we reproduce in facsimile. [illustration: facsimile of an account of george borrow's expenses in spain made out by the bible society] but now borrow was happy, for next to the adventures of five glorious months in the villages between madrid and coruña nothing could be more to the taste of borrow than a good wholesome quarrel. he was imprisoned by order of the spanish government and released on the intervention of the british embassy.[ ] he tells the story so graphically in _the bible in spain_ that it is superfluous to repeat it; but here he does not tell of the great quarrel with regard to lieutenant graydon that led him to attack that worthy zealot in a letter to the bible society. this attack did indeed cause the society to recall graydon, whose zealous proclamation of anti-romanism must however have been more to the taste of some of its subscribers than borrow's trimming methods. moreover, graydon worked for love of the cause and required no salary, which must always have been in his favour. borrow was ten days in a madrid prison, and there, as ever, he had extraordinary adventures if we may believe his own narrative, but they are much too good to be torn from their context. suffice to say here that in the actual correspondence we find breezy controversy between borrow and the society. borrow thought that the secretary had called the accuracy of his statements in question as to this or that particular in his conduct. ever a fighter, he appealed to the british embassy for confirmation of his word, and finally mr. brandram suggested he should come back to england for a time and talk matters over with the members of the committee. in the beginning of september borrow was again in england, when he issued a lengthy and eloquent defence of his conduct and a report on 'past and future operations in spain.'[ ] in december of the same year borrow was again on his way to cadiz upon his third and last visit to spain. borrow reached cadiz on this his last visit on st december , and went straight to seville, where he arrived on nd january . here he took a beautiful little house, 'a paradise in its way,' in the plazuela de la pila seca, and furnished it--clearly at the expense of his friend mrs. clarke of oulton, who must have sent him a cheque for the purpose. he had been corresponding regularly with mrs. clarke, who had told him of her difficulties with lawyers and relatives, and borrow had advised her to cut the gordian knot and come to spain. but mrs. clarke and her daughter, henrietta, did not arrive from england until june. in the intervening months borrow had been working more in his own interests than in those of the patient bible society, for he started to gather material for his _gypsies of spain_, and this book was for the most part actually written in seville. it was at this period that he had the many interviews with colonel elers napier that we quote at length in our next chapter. a little later he is telling mr. brandram of his adventure with the blind girl of manzanares who could talk in the latin tongue, which she had been taught by a jesuit priest, an episode which he retold in _the bible in spain_. 'when shall we hear,' he asks, 'of an english rector instructing a beggar girl in the language of cicero?' to which mr. brandram, who was rector of beckenham, replied 'cui bono?' the letters of this period are the best that he ever wrote, and are incorporated more exactly than the earlier ones in _the bible in spain_. [illustration: where borrow lived in madrid the house of maria diaz in the calle del santiago. borrow occupied the third floor front. a laundry is now in possession.] [illustration: the calle del principe, madrid where borrow opened a shop for the sale of new testaments, which was finally closed by order of the government.] four letters to his mother within the period of his second and third spanish visits may well be presented together here from my borrow papers: to mrs. ann borrow madrid, _july , ._ my dear mother,--i am in perfect health though just returned from a long expedition in which i have been terribly burnt by the sun. in about ten days i sold nearly a thousand testaments among the labourers of the plains and mountains of castille and la mancha. everybody in madrid is wondering and saying such a thing is a miracle, as i have not entered a town, and the country people are very poor and have never seen or heard of the testament before. but i confess to you that i dislike my situation and begin to think that i have been deceived; the b.s. have had another person on the sea-coast who has nearly ruined their cause in spain by circulating seditious handbills and tracts. the consequence has been that many of my depots have been seized in which i kept my bibles in various parts of the country, for the government think that he is employed by me; i told the b.s. all along what would be the consequence of employing this man, but they took huff and would scarce believe me, and now all my words are come true; i do not blame the government in the slightest degree for what they have done in many points, they have shown themselves to be my good friends, but they have been driven to the step by the insane conduct of the person alluded to. i told them frankly in my last letter that i would leave their service if they encouraged him; for i will not be put in prison again on his account, and lose another servant by the gaol fever, and then obtain neither thanks nor reward. i am going out of town again in a day or two, but i shall now write very frequently, therefore be not alarmed for i will run into no danger. burn this letter and speak to no one about it, nor any others that i may send. god bless you, my dear mother. g. b. to mrs. ann borrow, willow lane, st. giles, norwich (inglaterra) madrid, _august , ._ my dear mother,--i merely write this to inform you that i am back to madrid from my expedition. i have been very successful and have sold a great many testaments. indeed all the villages and towns within thirty miles have been supplied. in madrid itself i can do nothing as i am closely watched by order of the government and not permitted to sell, so that all i do is by riding out to places where they cannot follow me. i do not blame them, for they have much to complain of, though nothing of me, but if the society will countenance such men as they have lately done in the south of spain they must expect to reap the consequences. it is very probable that i may come to england in a little time, and then you will see me; but do not talk any more about yourself being 'no more seen,' for it only serves to dishearten me, and god knows i have enough to make me melancholy already. i am in a great hurry and cannot write any more at present.--i remain, dear mother, yours affectionately, george borrow. to mrs. ann borrow (no date.) my dear mama,--as i am afraid that you may not have received my last letter in consequence of several couriers having been stopped, i write to inform you that i am quite well. i have been in some difficulties. i was selling so many testaments that the priests became alarmed, and prevailed on the government to put a stop to my selling any more; they were likewise talking of prosecuting me as a witch, but they have thought better of it. i hear it is very cold in england, pray take care of yourself, i shall send you more in a few weeks.--god bless you, my dear mama, g. b. it was in the middle of his third and last visit to spain that borrow wrote this next letter to his mother which gives the first suggestion of the romantic and happy termination of his final visit to the peninsula: to mrs. ann borrow seville, spain, _april , ._ my dear mother,--i should have written to you before i left madrid, but i had a long and dangerous journey to make, and i wished to get it over before saying anything to you. i am now safely arrived, by the blessing of god, in seville, which, in my opinion, is the most delightful town in the world. if it were not a strange place with a strange language i know you would like to live in it, but it is rather too late in the day for you to learn spanish and accommodate yourself to spanish ways. before i left madrid i accomplished a great deal, having sold upwards of one thousand testaments and nearly five hundred bibles, so that at present very few remain; indeed, not a single bible, and i was obliged to send away hundreds of people who wanted to purchase, but whom i could not supply. all this has been done without the slightest noise or disturbance or anything that could give cause of displeasure to the government, so that i am now on very good terms with the authorities, though they are perfectly aware of what i am about. should the society think proper to be guided by the experience which i have acquired, and my knowledge of the country and the people, they might if they choosed sell at least twelve thousand bibles and testaments yearly in spain, but let them adopt or let any other people adopt any other principle than that on which i act and everything will miscarry. all the difficulties, as i told my friends the time i was in england, which i have had to encounter were owing to the faults and imprudencies of other people, and, i may say, still are owing. two methodist schoolmasters have lately settled at cadiz, and some little time ago took it into their heads to speak and preach, as i am informed, against the virgin mary; information was instantly sent to madrid, and the blame, or part of it, was as usual laid to me; however, i found means to clear myself, for i have powerful friends in madrid, who are well acquainted with my views, and who interested themselves for me, otherwise i should have been sent out of the country, as i believe the two others have been or will be. i have said nothing on this point in my letters home, as people would perhaps say that i was lukewarm, whereas, on the contrary, i think of nothing but the means best adapted to promote the cause; but i am not one of those disposed to run a ship on a rock when only a little skill is necessary to keep her in the open sea. i hope mrs. clarke will write shortly; tell her if she wishes for a retreat i have found one here for her and henrietta. i have my eye on a beautiful one at fifteen pence a day. i call it a small house, though it is a paradise in its way, having a stable, court-yard, fountain, and twenty rooms. she has only to write to my address at madrid and i shall receive the letter without fail. henrietta had better bring with her a spanish grammar and pocket dictionary, as not a word of english is spoken here. the house-dog--perhaps a real english bulldog would be better--likewise had better come, as it may be useful. god bless you therefore for the present, my dearest mother. george borrow. borrow had need of friends more tolerant of his idiosyncrasies than the 'powerful friends' he describes to his mother, for the secretary of the bible society was still in a critical mood:-- you narrate your perilous journey to seville, and say at the beginning of the description, 'my usual wonderful good fortune accompanying us.' this is a mode of speaking to which we are not accustomed--it savours, some of our friends would say, a little of the profane.[ ] on th july borrow was instructed by his committee to return to england, but he was already on the way to tangier, whence in september he wrote a long and interesting letter to mr. brandram, which was afterwards incorporated in _the bible in spain_. he had left mrs. clarke and her daughter in seville, and they joined him at gibraltar later. we find him _en route_ for tangier, staying two days with mr. john m. brackenbury, the british consul in cadiz, who found him a most fascinating man. his tangier life is fully described in _the bible in spain_. here he picked up a jewish youth, hayim ben attar, who returned to spain as his servant, and afterwards to england. borrow, at the end of september, was back again in seville, in his house near the cathedral, in the plazuela de la pila seca, which, when i visited seville in the spring of this year ( ), i found had long been destroyed to make way for new buildings. here he received the following letter from mr. george browne of the bible society:-- to mr. borrow bible house, _oct. , ._ my dear friend,--mr. brandram and myself being both on the eve of a long journey, i have only time to inform you that yours of the d ult. from tangier, and st from cadiz came to hand this morning. before this time you have doubtless received mr. brandram's letter, accompanying the resolution of the comee., of which i apprised you, but which was delayed a few days, for the purpose of reconsideration. we are not able to suggest precisely the course you should take in regard to the books left at madrid and elsewhere, and how far it may be absolutely necessary or not for you to visit that city again before you return. the books you speak of, as at seville, may be sent to gibraltar rather than to england, as well as any books you may deem it expedient or find it necessary to bring out of the country. as soon as your arrangements are completed we shall look for the pleasure of seeing you in this country. the haste in which i am compelled to write allows me to say no more than that my best wishes attend you, and that i am, with sincere regard, yours truly, g. browne. i thank you for your kind remembrance of mrs. browne. did i thank you for your letter to her? she feels, i assure you, very much obliged. your description of tangier will be another interesting 'morceau' for her. 'where is borrow?' asked the bible society meanwhile of the consuls at seville and cadiz, but borrow had ceased to care. he hoped to become a successful author with his _gypsies_; he would at any rate secure independence by marriage, which must have been already mooted. in november he and mrs. clarke were formally betrothed, and would have been married in spain, but a protestant marriage was impossible there. when preparing to leave seville he had one of those fiery quarrels, with which his life was to be studded. this time it was with an official of the city over a passport, and the official promptly locked him up, for thirty hours. hence the following letter in response to his complaint. the writer is mr., afterwards sir, george jerningham, then secretary of legation at madrid, who it may be mentioned came from costessey, four miles from norwich. it is written from the british legation, and is dated rd december : i have the honour to acknowledge the receipt of your two letters, the one without date, the second dated the _ th november_ (which however ought to have been _december_), respecting the outrageous conduct pursued towards you at seville by the alcalde of the district in which you resided. i lost no time in addressing a strong representation thereon to the spanish minister, and i have to inform you that he has acquainted me with his having written to seville for exact information upon the whole subject, and that he has promised a further answer to my representation as soon as his inquiries shall have been answered. in the meantime i shall not fail to follow up your case with proper activity. borrow was still in seville, hard at work upon the _gypsies_, all through the first three months of the year . in april the three friends left cadiz for london. a letter of this period from mr. brackenbury, the british consul at cadiz, is made clear by these facts: to george borrow, esq. british consulate, cadiz, _january th, ._ my dear sir,--i received on the th your very acceptable letter without date, and am heartily rejoiced to find that you have received satisfaction for the insult, and that the alcalde is likely to be punished for his unjustifiable conduct. if you come to cadiz your baggage may be landed and deposited at the gates to be shipped with yourselves wherever the steamer may go, in which case the authorities would not examine it, if you bring it into cadiz it would be examined at the gates--or, if you were to get it examined at the custom house at seville and there sealed with the seal of the customs--it might then be transhipped into the steamer or into any other vessel without being subjected to any examination. if you take your horse, the agents of the steamer ought to be apprized of your intention, that they may be prepared, which i do not think they generally are, with a suitable box. consuls are not authorised to unite protestant subjects in the bonds of holy matrimony in popish countries--which seems a peculiar hardship, because popish priests could not, if they would--hence in spain no protestants can be legally married. marriages solemnised abroad according to the law of that land wheresoever the parties may at the time be inhabitants are valid--but the law of spain excludes their priests from performing these ceremonies where both parties are protestants--and where one is a papist, except a dispensation be obtained from the pope. so you must either go to gibraltar--or wait till you arrive in england. i have represented the hardship of such a case more than once or twice to government. in my report upon the consular act, geo. iv. cap. --eleven years ago--i suggested that provision should be made to legalise marriages solemnised by the consul within the consulate, and that such marriages should be registered in the consular office--and that duly certified copies thereof should be equivalent to certificates of marriages registered in any church in england. these suggestions not having been acted upon, i brought the matter under the consideration of lord john russell (i being then in england at the time of his altering the marriage act), and proposed that consuls abroad should have the power of magistrates and civil authorities at home for receiving the declarations of british subjects who might wish to enter into the marriage state--but they feared lest the introduction of such a clause, simple and efficacious as it would have been, might have endangered the fate of the bill; and so we are as protestants deprived of all power of being legally married in spain. what sort of a horse is your hack?--what colour? what age? would he carry me?--what his action? what his price? because if in all these points he would suit me, perhaps you would give me the refusal of him. you will of course enquire whether your arab may be legally exported. all my family beg to be kindly remembered to you.--i am, my dear sir, most faithfully yours, j. m. brackenbury. there is a young gentleman here, who is in spain partly on account of his health--partly for literary purposes. i will give him, with your leave, a line of introduction to you whenever he may go to seville. he is the honourable r. dundas murray, brother of lord elibank, a scottish nobleman. footnotes: [ ] _norfolk chronicle_, th october . [ ] secretary samuel brandram, writing to borrow from the office of the bible society in october , gave clear indication that the society was uncertain how next to utilise borrow's linguistic and missionary talents. should he go to portugal or to china was the question. in november the committee had decided on portugal, although they thought it probable that borrow would 'eventually go to china,' 'with portugal he is already acquainted,' said mr. brandram in a letter of introduction to the rev. e. whitely, the british chaplain in oporto. so that borrow must really have wandered into portugal in that earlier and more melancholy apprenticeship to vagabondage concerning which there is so much surmise and so little knowledge. had he lied about his acquaintance with portugal he would certainly have been 'found out' by this portuguese acquaintance, with whom he had much social intercourse. [ ] the reader who finds borrow's _bible in spain_ insufficient for his account of that period, and i am not of the number, may turn to the _letters of george borrow to the bible society_, from which we have already quoted, or to mr. herbert jenkins's _life of george borrow_. in the former book the greater part of closely-printed pages is taken up with repetitions of the story as told in _the bible in spain_, or with additions which borrow deliberately cancelled in the work in question. in mr. jenkins's _life_ he will find that out of a solid volume of pages exactly are occupied with borrow's association with the peninsula and his work therein. to the enthusiast who desires to supplement _the bible in spain_ with valuable annotation i cordially commend both these volumes. [ ] who that has visited spain can for a moment doubt but that, if napoleon had really conquered the peninsula and had been able to put his imprint upon it as he did upon italy, the spain of to-day would have become a much greater country than it is at present--than it will be in a few short years. [ ] _the bible in spain_, ch. xlii. [ ] the old and new testament, in ten volumes, were first issued in spanish at valencia in - . when in madrid i picked up on a second-hand bookstall a copy of a cheap spanish version of scio's new testament, which bears a much earlier date than the one borrow carried. it was published, it will be noted, two years before borrow published his translation of klinger's ribald book _faustus_:-- 'el nuevo testamento, traducido al español de la vulgata latina por el rmo. p. philipe scio de s. miguel. paris: en la imprenta de j. smith, ,' [ ] this kind of interpretation is not restricted to the youthful sunday school teacher. at a meeting of the bible society held at norwich--borrow's own city--on th may , mrs. florence barclay, the author of many popular novels, thus addressed the gathering. i quote from the _eastern daily press_: 'she had heard sometimes a shallow form of criticism which said that it was impossible that in actual reality any man should have lived and breathed three days and three nights in the interior of a fish. might she remind the meeting that the lord jesus christ, who never made mistakes, said himself, "as jonah was three days and three nights in the interior of the sea monster." please note that in the greek the word was not "whale," but "sea monster." and then, let us remember, that we were told that the lord god had prepared the great fish in order that it should swallow jonah. she did suggest that if mere man nowadays could construct a submarine, which went down to the depths of the ocean and came up again when he pleased, it did not require very much faith to believe that almighty god could specially prepare a great fish which should rescue his servant, to whom he meant to give another chance, from the depths of the sea, and land him in due course upon the shore. (applause).' these crude views, which ignored the symbolism of nineveh as a fish, now universally accepted by educated people, were not, however, endorsed by dr. beeching, the learned dean of norwich, who in the same gathering expressed the point of view of more scholarly christians:--'he would not distinguish inspired writing from fiction. he would say there could be inspired fiction just as well as inspired facts, and he would point to the story of the prodigal son as a wonderful example from the bible of inspired fiction. there were a good many other examples in the old testament, and he had not the faintest doubt that the story of jonah was one. it was on the same level as the prodigal son. it was a story told to teach the people a distinct truth.' [ ] when in madrid in may i called upon mr. william summers, the courteous secretary of the madrid branch of the british and foreign bible society in the flor alta. mr. summers informs me that the issues of the british and foreign bible society, bibles and testaments, in spain for the past three years are as follows: year. bibles. testaments. portions. total. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , the calle del principe is now rapidly being pulled down and new buildings taking the place of those borrow knew. [ ] _embeo e majaro lucas. el evangelio segun s. lucas traducido al romani ó dialecto de los gitanos de españa_, . two later copies in my possession bear on their title-pages 'lundra, ' and 'lundra, .' but the bible society in spain has long ceased to handle or to sell any gypsy version of st. luke's gospel. [ ] and in darlow's _letters of george borrow to the bible society_, pp. - . [ ] darlow, _letters of george borrow to the bible society_. [ ] the story of all the negotiations concerning this imprisonment and release is told by dr. knapp (_life_, vol. i, pp. - ), and is supplemented by mr. herbert jenkins by valuable documents from the foreign office papers at the record office. [ ] printed by mr. darlow in _letters of george borrow to the bible society_, pp. - . [ ] darlow, _george borrow's letters to the bible society_, p. . chapter xix borrow's spanish circle there are many interesting personalities that pass before us in borrow's three separate narratives,[ ] as they may be considered, of his spanish experiences. we would fain know more concerning the two excellent secretaries of the bible society--samuel brandram and joseph jowett. we merely know that the former was rector of beckenham and was one of the society's secretaries until his death in ;[ ] that the latter was rector of silk willoughby in lincolnshire, and belonged to the same family as jowett of balliol. but there are many quaint characters in borrow's own narrative to whom we are introduced. there is maria diaz, for example, his landlady in the house in the calle de santiago in madrid, and her husband, juan lopez, also assisted borrow in his bible distribution. very eloquent are borrow's tributes to the pair in the pages of _the bible in spain_. 'honour to maria diaz, the quiet, dauntless, clever, castilian female! i were an ungrate not to speak well of her,' we get a glimpse of maria and her husband long years afterwards when a pensioner in a spanish almshouse revealed himself as the son of borrow's friends. eduardo lopez was only eight years of age when borrow was in madrid, and he really adds nothing to our knowledge.[ ] then there were those two incorrigible vagabonds--antonio buchini, his greek servant with an italian name, and benedict mol, the swiss of lucerne, who turns up in all sorts of improbable circumstances as the seeker of treasure in the church of st. james of compostella--only a masterly imagination could have made him so interesting. concerning these there is nothing to supplement borrow's own story. but we have attractive glimpses of borrow in the frequently quoted narrative of colonel napier,[ ] and this is so illuminating that i venture to reproduce it at greater length than previous biographers have done. edward elers napier, who was born in , was the son of one edward elers of the royal navy. his widow married the famous admiral sir charles napier, who adopted her four children by her first husband. edward elers, the younger, or edward napier, as he came to be called, was educated at sandhurst and entered the army, serving for some years in india. later his regiment was ordered to gibraltar, and it was thence that he made several sporting excursions into spain and morocco. later he served in egypt, and when, through ill-health, he retired in on half-pay, he lived for some years in portugal. in he returned to the army and did good work in the crimea, becoming a lieutenant-general in . he died in . he wrote, in addition to these _excursions_, several other books, including _scenes and sports in foreign lands_.[ ] it was during his military career at gibraltar that he met george borrow at seville, as the following extracts from his book testify. borrow's pretension to have visited the east is characteristic--and amusing:-- . _saturday th_.--out early, sketching at the alcazar. after breakfast it set in a day of rain, and i was reduced to wander about the galleries overlooking the 'patio.' nothing so dreary and out of character as a rainy day in spain. whilst occupied in moralising over the dripping water-spouts, i observed a tall, gentlemanly-looking man, dressed in a zamarra,[ ] leaning over the balustrades, and apparently engaged in a similar manner with myself. community of thoughts and occupation generally tends to bring people together. from the stranger's complexion, which was fair, but with brilliant black eyes, i concluded he was not a spaniard; in short, there was something so remarkable in his appearance that it was difficult to say to what nation he might belong. he was tall, with a commanding appearance; yet, though apparently in the flower of manhood, his hair was so deeply tinged with the winter of either age or sorrow as to be nearly snow-white. under these circumstances, i was rather puzzled as to what language i should address him in. at last, putting a bold face on the matter, i approached him with a 'bonjour, monsieur, quel triste temps!' 'yes, sir,' replied he in the purest parisian accent; 'and it is very unusual weather here at this time of the year.' 'does "monsieur" intend to be any time at seville?' asked i. he replied in the affirmative. we were soon on a friendly footing, and from his varied information i was both amused and instructed. still i became more than ever in the dark as to his nationality; i found he could speak english as fluently as french. i tried him on the italian track; again he was perfectly at home. he had a greek servant, to whom his gave his orders in romaïc. he conversed in good castilian with 'mine host'; exchanged a german salutation with an austrian baron, at the time an inmate of the fonda; and on mentioning to him my morning visit to triano, which led to some remarks on the gypsies, and the probable place from whence they derived their origin, he expressed his belief that it was from moultan, and said that, even to this day, they retained many moultanee and hindoostanee expressions, such as 'pánee' (water), 'buree pánee'[ ] (the sea), etc. he was rather startled when i replied 'in hindee,' but was delighted on finding i was an indian, and entered freely, and with depth and acuteness, on the affairs of the east, most of which part of the world he had visited. in such varied discourse did the hours pass so swiftly away that we were not a little surprised when pépé, the 'mozo' (and i verily believe all spanish waiters are called pépé), announced the hour of dinner; after which we took a long walk together on the banks of the river. but, on our return, i was as much as ever in ignorance as to who might be my new and pleasant acquaintance. i took the first opportunity of questioning antonio baillie (buchini) on the subject, and his answer only tended to increase my curiosity. he said that nobody knew what nation the mysterious 'unknown' belonged to, nor what were his motives for travelling. in his passport he went by the name of ----, and as a british subject, but in consequence of a suspicion being entertained that he was a russian spy, the police kept a sharp look-out over him. spy or no spy, i found him a very agreeable companion; and it was agreed that on the following day we should visit together the ruins of italica. _may ._--after breakfast, the 'unknown' and myself, mounting our horses, proceeded on our expedition to the ruins of italica. crossing the river, and proceeding through the populous suburb of triano, already mentioned, we went over the same extensive plain that i had traversed in going to san lucar, but keeping a little more to the right a short ride brought us in sight of the convent of san isidrio, surrounded by tall cypress and waving date-trees. this once richly-endowed religious establishment is, together with the small neighbouring village of santi ponci, i believe, the property of the duke of medina coeli, at whose expense the excavations are now carried on at the latter place, which is the ancient site of the roman italica. we sat down on a fragment of the walls, and sadly recalling the splendour of those times of yore, contrasted with the desolation around us, the 'unknown' began to feel the vein of poetry creeping through his inward soul, and gave vent to it by reciting, with great emphasis and effect, and to the astonishment of the wondering peasant, who must have thought him 'loco,' the following well-known and beautiful lines:-- 'cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower, grown, matted and massed together, hillocks heap'd on what were chambers, arch crush'd, column strown in fragments, choked up vaults, and frescoes steep'd in subterranean damps, where the owl peep'd, deeming it midnight; temples, baths, or halls-- pronounce who can: for all that learning reap'd from her research hath been, that these are walls.' i had been too much taken up with the scene, the verses, and the strange being who was repeating them with so much feeling, to notice the approach of one who now formed the fourth person of our party. this was a slight female figure, beautiful in the extreme, but whom tattered garments, raven hair (which fell in matted elf-locks over her naked shoulders), swarthy complexion, and flashing eyes, proclaimed to be of the wandering tribe of 'gitános.' from an intuitive sense of natural politeness she stood with crossed arms, and a slight smile on her dark and handsome countenance, until my companion had ceased, and then addressed us in the usual whining tone of supplication, with 'caballeritos, una limosita! dios se lo pagara a ustedes!' ('gentlemen, a little charity! god will repay it to you!') the gypsy girl was so pretty, and her voice so sweet, that i involuntarily put my hand in my pocket. 'stop!' said the 'unknown.' 'do you remember what i told you about the eastern origin of these people? you shall see i am correct. come here, my pretty child,' said he in moultanee, 'and tell me where are the rest of your tribe?' the girl looked astounded, replied in the same tongue, but in broken language; when, taking him by the arm, she said, in spanish: 'come, caballero; come to one who will be able to answer you;' and she led the way down amongst the ruins towards one of the dens formerly occupied by the wild beasts, and disclosed to us a set of beings scarcely less savage. the sombre walls of this gloomy abode were illumined by a fire, the smoke from which escaped through a deep fissure in the massy roof; whilst the flickering flames threw a blood-red glare on the bronzed features of a group of children, of two men, and a decrepit old hag, who appeared busily engaged in some culinary preparations. on our entrance, the scowling glance of the males of the party, and a quick motion of the hand towards the folds of the 'faja,'[ ] caused in _me_, at least, anything but a comfortable sensation; but their hostile intentions, if ever entertained, were immediately removed by a wave of the hand from our conductress, who, leading my companion towards the sibyl, whispered something in her ear. the old crone appeared incredulous. the 'unknown' uttered one word; but that word had the effect of magic; she prostrated herself at his feet, and in an instant, from an object of suspicion he became one of worship to the whole family, to whom, on taking leave, he made a handsome present, and departed with their united blessings, to the astonishment of myself, and what looked very like terror in our spanish guide. i was, as the phrase goes, dying with curiosity, and, as soon as we mounted our horses, exclaimed, 'where, in the name of goodness, did you pick up your acquaintance and the language of these extraordinary people?' 'some years ago, in moultan,' he replied. 'and by what means do you possess such apparent influence over them?' but the 'unknown' had already said more than he perhaps wished on the subject. he drily replied that he had more than once owed his life to gipsies, and had reason to know them well; but this was said in a tone which precluded all further queries on my part. the subject was never again broached, and we returned in silence to the fonda.... _may th._--pouring with rain all day, during which i was mostly in the society of the 'unknown.' this is a most extraordinary character, and the more i see of him the more i am puzzled. he appears acquainted with everybody and everything, but apparently unknown to every one himself. though his figure bespeaks youth--and by his own account his age does not exceed thirty--yet the snows of eighty winters could not have whitened his locks more completely than they are. but in his dark and searching eye there is an almost supernatural penetration and lustre, which, were i inclined to superstition, might induce me to set down its possessor as a second melmoth; and in that character he often appears to me during the troubled rest i sometimes obtain through the medium of the great soother, 'laudanum.' the next most interesting figure in the borrow gallery of this period is don luis de usóz y rio, who was a good friend to borrow during the whole of his sojourn in spain. it was he who translated borrow's appeal to the spanish prime minister to be permitted to distribute scio's new testament. he watched over borrow with brotherly solicitude, and wrote him more than one excellent letter, of which the two following from my borrow papers, the last written at the close of the spanish period, are the most interesting: to mr. george borrow (_translated from the spanish_) piazza di spagna , rome, _ april ._ dear friend,--i received your letter, and thank you for the same. i know the works under the name of 'boz,' about which you write, and also the _memoirs of the pickwick club_, and although they seemed to me good, i have failed to appreciate properly their qualities, because much of the dramatic style and dialogue in the same are very difficult for those who know english merely from books. i made here a better acquaintance than that of mezzofanti (who knows nothing), namely, that of prof. michel-angelo lanci, already well-known on account of his work, _la sacra scrittura illustrata con monumenti fenico-assiri ed egiziani_, etc., etc. (the scriptures, illustrated with ph[oe]nician-assyrian and egyptian monuments), which i am reading at present, and find very profound and interesting, and more particularly very original. he has written and presented me a book, _esposizione dei versetti del giobbe intorno al cavallo_ (explanation of verses of job about a horse), and in these and other works he proves himself to be a great philologist and oriental scholar. i meet him almost daily, and i assure you that he seems to me to know everything he treats thoroughly, and not like gayangos or calderon, etc., etc. his philosophic works have created a great stir here, and they do not please much the friars here; but as here they are not like the police barbarians there, they do not forbid it, as they cannot. lanci is well known in russia and in germany, and when i bring his works there, and you are there and have not read them, you will read them and judge for yourself. wishing you well, and always at your service, i remain, always yours, luis de usÓz y rio. to mr. george borrow (_translated from the spanish_) naples, _ august ._ dear friend,--i received your letter of the july written from sevilla, and i am waiting for that which you promise me from tangier. i am glad that you liked sevilla, and i am still more glad of the successful shipment of the beloved book. in distributing it, you are rendering the greatest service that generous foreigners (i mean englishmen) can render to the real freedom and enlightenment in spain, and any spaniard who is at heart a gentleman must be grateful for this service to the society and to its agent. in my opinion, if spain had maintained the customs, character, and opinions that it had three centuries ago, it ought to have maintained also unity in religious opinions: but that at present the circumstances have changed, and the moral character and the advancement of my unfortunate country would not lose anything in its purification and progress by (the grant of) religious liberty. you are saying that i acted very light-mindedly in judging mezzofanti without speaking to him. you know that the other time when i was in italy i had dealings and spoke with him, and that i said to you that he had a great facility for speaking languages, but that otherwise he was no good. because i have seen him several times in the papal chapels with a certain air of an ass and certain grimaces of a blockhead that cannot happen to a man of talent. i am told, moreover, that he is a spy, and that for that reason he was given the hat. i know, moreover, that he has not written anything at all. for that reason i do not wish to take the trouble of seeing him. as regards lanci, i am not saying anything except that i am waiting until you have read his work without passion, and that if my books have arrived at madrid, you can ask my brother in santiago. you are judging of him and of pahlin in the way you reproach me with judging mezzofanti; i thank you, and i wish for the dedication gabricote; and i also wish for your return to madrid, so that in going to toledo you would get a copy of aristophanes with the order that will be given to you by my brother, who has got it. if for the gabricote or other work you require my clumsy pen, write to florence and send me a rough copy of what is to be done, in english or in spanish, and i will supply the finished work. from florence i intend to go to london, and i should be obliged if you would give me letters and instructions that would be of use to me in literary matters, but you must know that my want of knowledge of _speaking_ english makes it necessary that the englishmen who speak to me should know spanish, french, or italian. as regards robberies, of which you accuse southern people, from the literatures of the north, do you think that the robberies committed by the northerners from the southern literature would be left behind? erunt vitia donec homines.--always yours, eleutheros. yet another acquaintance of these spanish days was baron taylor--isidore justin séverin taylor, to give him his full name--who had a career of wandering achievement, with government pay, that must have appealed to borrow. although his father was an englishman he became a naturalised frenchman, and he was for a time in the service of the french government as director of the théâtre français, when he had no little share in the production of the dramas of victor hugo and dumas. later he was instrumental in bringing the luxor obelisk from egypt to paris. he wrote books upon his travels in spain, portugal and morocco.[ ] he wandered all over europe in search of art treasures for the french government, and may very well have met borrow again and again. borrow tells us that he had met taylor in france, in russia, and in ireland, before he met him in andalusia, collecting pictures for the french government. borrow's description of their meetings is inimitable:-- whenever he descries me, whether in the street or the desert, the brilliant hall or amongst bedouin _haimas_, at novogorod or stambul, he flings up his arms and exclaims, "_o ciel_! i have again the felicity of seeing my cherished and most respectable borrow."[ ] [illustration: a letter from sir george villiers, afterwards earl of clarendon, british minister to spain, to george borrow] the last and most distinguished of borrow's colleagues while in spain was george villiers, fourth earl of clarendon, whom we judge to have been in private life one of the most lovable men of his epoch. george villiers was born in london in , and was the grandson of the first earl, thomas villiers, who received his title when holding office in lord north's administration, but is best known from his association in diplomacy with frederick the great. his grandson was born, as it were, into diplomacy, and at twenty years of age was an _attaché_ to the british embassy in st. petersburg. later he was associated with sir john bowring in negotiating a commercial treaty with france. in august he was sent as british minister--'envoy extraordinary' he was called--to madrid, and he had been two years in that seething-pot of spanish affairs, with christinos and carlists at one another's throats, when borrow arrived in the peninsula. his influence was the greater with a succession of spanish prime ministers in that in he had been largely instrumental in negotiating the quadruple alliance between england, france, spain, and portugal. in march --exactly a year before borrow took his departure--he resigned his position at madrid, having then for some months exchanged the title of sir george villiers for that of earl of clarendon through the death of his uncle;[ ] borrow thereafter having to launch his various complaints and grievances at his successor, mr.--afterwards sir george--jerningham, who, it has been noted, had his home in norfolk, at costessey, four miles from norwich. villiers returned to england with a great reputation, although his spanish policy was attacked in the house of lords. in that same year, , he joined lord melbourne's administration as lord privy seal, o'connell at the time declaring that he ought to be made lord-lieutenant of ireland, so sympathetic was he towards concession and conciliation in that then feverishly excited country. this office actually came to him in , and he was lord-lieutenant through that dark period of ireland's history, including the famine, the young ireland rebellion, and the smith o'brien rising. he pleased no one in ireland. no english statesman could ever have done so under such ideals of government as england would have tolerated then, and for long years afterwards. the whigs defended him, the tories abused him, in their respective organs. he left ireland in and was more than once mentioned as possible prime minister in the ensuing years. he was secretary of state for foreign affairs in lord aberdeen's administration during the crimean war, and he held the same office under lord palmerston, again under earl russell in , and under mr. gladstone in . he might easily have become prime minister. greville in his _diary_ writes of prince albert's desire that he should succeed lord john russell, but clarendon said that no power on earth would make him take that position. he said he could not speak, and had not had parliamentary experience enough. he died in , leaving a reputation as a skilful diplomatist and a disinterested politician, if not that of a great statesman. he had twice refused the governor-generalship of india, and three times a marquisate. sir george villiers seems to have been very courteous to borrow during the whole of the time they were together in spain. it would have been easy for him to have been quite otherwise. borrow's bible mission synchronised with a very delicate diplomatic mission of his own, and in a measure clashed with it. the government of spain was at the time fighting the ultra-clericals. physical and moral strife were rife in the land. neither royalists nor carlists could be expected to sympathise with borrow's schemes, which were fundamentally to attack their church. but villiers was at all times friendly, and, as far as he could be, helpful. borrow seems to have had ready access to him, and he answered his many letters. he gave borrow an opportunity of an interview with the formidable prime minister mendizábal, and he interviewed another minister and persuaded him to permit borrow to print and circulate his bibles. he intervened successfully to release borrow from his madrid prison. but villiers could not have had any sympathy with borrow other than as a british subject to be protected on the roman citizen principle. we do not suppose that when _the bible in spain_ appeared he was one of those who were captivated by its extraordinary qualities. when borrow crossed his path in later life he received no special consideration, such as would be given very promptly in our day by a cabinet minister to a man of letters of like distinction. we find him on one occasion writing to the ex-minister, now lord clarendon, asking his help for a consulship. clarendon replied kindly enough, but sheltered himself behind the statement that the prime minister was overwhelmed with applications for patronage. yet clarendon, who held many high offices in the following years, might have helped if he had cared to do so. some years later--in --there was further correspondence when borrow desired to become a magistrate of suffolk. here again clarendon wrote three courteous letters, and appears to have done his best in an unenthusiastic way. but nothing came of it all. footnotes: [ ] the accounts in _the bible in spain_, _the gypsies of spain_, and the _letters to the bible society_. [ ] the only 'samuel brandram' in the _dictionary of national biography_ is a reciter who died in ; he certainly had less claim to the distinction than his namesake. [ ] see 'footprints of george borrow' by a. g. jayne in _the bible in the world_ for july . [ ] _excursions along the shores of the mediterranean_, by lieut.-colonel e. napier, vol. ii (henry colburn), . [ ] see _dictionary of national biography_, vol. xl. pp. - . [ ] a sheepskin jacket with the wool outside, a costume much worn here in cold weather. [ ] 'pánee' is masculine (marginal note in pencil). [ ] in the folds of the sash is concealed the 'navaja,' or formidable clasp-knife, always worn by the spaniard. [ ] his principal work was _voyages pittoresques et romantiques dans l'ancienne france_. [ ] _the bible in spain_, ch. xv. [ ] many interesting letters from villiers will be found in _memoirs and memories_, by his niece, mrs. c. w. earle, . chapter xx mary borrow among the many borrow manuscripts in my possession i find a page of unusual pathos. it is the inscription that borrow wrote for his wife's tomb, and it is in the tremulous handwriting of a man weighed down by the one incomparable tragedy of life's pilgrimage: _sacred to the memory of mary borrow, the beloved and affectionate wife of george borrow, esquire, who departed this life on the th jan. ._ george borrow. the death of his wife saddened borrow, and assisted to transform him into the unamiable creature of norfolk tradition. but it is well to bear in mind, when we are considering borrow on his domestic and personal side, that he was unquestionably a good and devoted husband throughout his married life of twenty-nine years. it was in the year that borrow and his wife first met. he was twenty-nine; she was a widow of thirty-six. she was undeniably very intelligent, and was keenly sympathetic to the young vagabond of wonderful adventures on the highways of england, now so ambitious for future adventure in distant lands. her maiden name was mary skepper. she was one of the two children of edmund skepper and his wife anne, who lived at oulton hall in suffolk, whither they had removed from beceles in . mary's brother inherited the oulton hall estate of three hundred acres, and she had a mortgage the interest of which yielded £ per annum. in july mary married, at oulton church, henry clarke,[ ] a lieutenant in the navy, who died eight months later of consumption. two months after his death their child henrietta mary, the 'hen' who was borrow's life companion, was born. there is a letter among my borrow papers addressed to the widow by her husband's father at this time. it is dated th june , and runs as follows: i read your very kind, affectionate, and respectful letter of the th inst. with feelings of satisfaction and thankfulness--thankful that god has mercifully given you so pleasing a pledge of the love of my late dear, but lamented son, and i most sincerely hope and trust that dear little henrietta will live to be the joy and consolation of your life: and satisfyed i am that you are what i always esteemed you to be, _one_ of the best of women; god grant! that you may be, as i am sure you deserve to be _one_ of the happiest--his ways of providence are past finding out; to you--they seem indeed to have been truly afflictive: but we cannot possibly say that they are really so; we cannot doubt his wisdom nor ought we to distrust his goodness, let us avow, then, where we have not the power of fathoming--viz. the dispensations of god; in his good time he will show us, perhaps, that every painful event which has happened was abundantly for the best--i am truly glad to hear that you and the sweet babe, my little grand daughter, are doing so well, and i hope i shall have the pleasure shortly of seeing you either at oulton or sisland. i am sorry to add that neither poor l. nor myself are well.--louisa and my family join me in kind love to you, and in best regards to your worthy father, mother, and brother. mary skepper was certainly a bright, intelligent girl, as i gather from a manuscript poem before me written to a friend on the eve of leaving school. as a widow, living at first with her parents at oulton hall, and later with her little daughter in the neighbouring cottage, she would seem to have busied herself with all kinds of philanthropies, and she was clearly in sympathy with the religious enthusiasms of certain neighbouring families of evangelical persuasion, particularly the gurneys and the cunninghams. the rev. francis cunningham was rector of pakefield, near lowestoft, from to . he married richenda, a sister of the distinguished joseph john gurney and of elizabeth fry, in . in he became vicar of st. margaret's, lowestoft. his brother, john william cunningham, was vicar of harrow, and married a verney of the famous buckinghamshire family. this john william cunningham was a great light of the evangelical churches of his time, and was for many years editor of _the christian observer_. his daughter mary richenda married sir james fitzjames stephen, the well-known judge, and the brother of sir leslie stephen. but to return to francis cunningham, whose acquaintance with borrow was brought about through mrs. clarke. cunningham was a great supporter of the british and foreign bible society, and was the founder of the paris branch. it was speedily revealed to him that borrow's linguistic abilities could be utilised by the society, and he secured the co-operation of his brother-in-law, joseph john gurney, in an effort to find borrow work in connection with the society. there is a letter of borrow's to mrs. clarke of this period in my borrow papers which my readers will already have read.[ ] we do not meet mary clarke again until , when we find a letter from her to borrow addressed to st. petersburg, in which she notifies to him that he has been 'mentioned at many of the bible meetings this year,' adding that 'dear mr. cunningham' had spoken so nicely of him at an oulton gathering. 'as i am not afraid of making you proud,' she continues, 'i will tell you one of his remarks. he mentioned you as one of the most extraordinary and interesting individuals of the present day.' henceforth clearly mary clarke corresponded regularly with borrow, and one or two extracts from her letters are given by dr. knapp. joseph jowett of the bible society forwarded borrow's letters from russia to cunningham, who handed them to mrs. clarke and her parents. borrow had proposed to continue his mission by leaving russia for china, but this mary clarke opposed: i must tell you that your letter chilled me when i read your intention of going as a missionary or agent, with the manchu scriptures in your hand, to the tartars, that land of incalculable dangers.[ ] in borrow was back in england at norwich with his mother, and on a visit to mary clarke and the skeppers at oulton. mrs. skepper died just before his arrival in england--that is, in september --while her husband died in february . mary clarke's only brother died in the following year.[ ] thus we see mary clarke, aged about forty, left to fight the world with her daughter, aged twenty-three, and not only to fight the world but her own family, particularly her brother's widow, owing to certain ambiguities in her father's will which are given forth in dreary detail in dr. knapp's _life_.[ ] it was these legal quarrels that led mary clarke and her daughter to set sail for spain, where mary had had the indefatigable and sympathetic correspondent during the previous year of trouble. borrow and mary clarke met, as we have seen, at seville and there, at a later period, they became 'engaged.' mrs. clarke and her daughter henrietta sailed for spain in the _royal tar_, leaving london for cadiz in june . much keen correspondence between borrow and mrs. clarke had passed before the final decision to visit spain. his mother was one of the few people who knew of mrs. clarke's journey to seville, and must have understood, as mothers do, what was pending, although her son did not. when the engagement is announced to her--in november --she writes to mary clarke a kindly, affectionate letter: i shall now resign him to your care, and may you love and cherish him as much as i have done. i hope and trust that each will try to make the other happy. there is no reason whatever to accept dr. knapp's suggestion,[ ] strange as coming from so pronounced a hero-worshipper, that borrow married for money. and this because he had said in one of his letters, 'it is better to suffer the halter than the yoke,' the kind of thing that a man might easily say on the eve of making a proposal which he was not sure would be accepted. nor can dr. knapp's further discovery of a casual remark of borrow's--'marriage is by far the best way of getting possession of an estate'--be counted as conclusive. that borrow was all his life devoted to his wife i think is proved by his many letters to her that are given in this volume, letters, however, which dr. knapp had not seen. borrow's further tribute to his wife and stepdaughter in _wild wales_ is well known: of my wife i will merely say that she is a perfect paragon of wives, can make puddings and sweets and treacle posset, and is the best woman of business in eastern anglia. of my stepdaughter--for such she is, though i generally call her daughter, and with good reason, seeing that she has always shown herself a daughter to me--that she has all kinds of good qualities, and several accomplishments, knowing something of conchology, more of botany, drawing capitally in the dutch style, and playing remarkably well on the guitar--not the trumpery german thing so called, but the real spanish guitar. borrow belonged to the type of men who would never marry did not some woman mercifully take them in hand. mrs. clarke, when she set out for spain, had doubtless determined to marry borrow. it is clear that he had no idea of marrying her. yet he was certainly 'engaged,' as we learn from a letter to mr. brackenbury, to be given hereafter, when he wrote a letter from seville to mr. brandram, dated march , in which he said: 'i wish very much to spend the remaining years of my life in the northern parts of china, as i think i have a call to those regions.... i hope yet to die in the cause of my redeemer.' surely never did man take so curious a view of the responsibilities of marriage. he must have known that his proposal would be declined--as it was. very soon after the engagement borrow experienced his third term of imprisonment in spain, this time, however, only for thirty hours, and all because he had asked the alcalde, or mayor of the district in which he lived, for his passport, and had quarrelled with his worship over the matter. borrow gave up the months of this winter of rather to writing his first important book, _the gypsies of spain_, than to the concerns of the bible society. finally borrow, with mrs. clarke and her daughter, sailed from cadiz on the rd april , as we have already related. he had with him his jewish servant, hayim ben attar, and his arabian horse, sidi habismilk, both of which were to astonish the natives of the suffolk broads. the party reached london on th april and stayed at the spread eagle inn, gracechurch street. the marriage took place at st. peter's church, cornhill, on rd april . [illustration: mrs. borrow's copy of her marriage certificate.] there are only two letters from mrs. borrow to her husband extant. dr. knapp apparently discovered none in the borrow papers in his possession. the two before me were written in the hereford square days between the years and --the last year of mrs. borrow's life. the pair had been married some twenty-five years at least, and it is made clear by these letters alone that at the end of this period they were still a most happily assorted couple. mrs. borrow must have gone to brighton for her health on two separate occasions, each time accompanied by her daughter. borrow, who had enjoyed many a pleasant ramble on his own account, as we shall see--rambles which extended as far away as constantinople--is 'keeping house' in hereford square, brompton, the while. it will be noted that mrs. borrow signed herself 'carreta,' the pet name that her husband always gave her. dr. knapp points out that 'carreta' means a spanish dray-cart, and that 'carita,' 'my dear,' was probably meant. but, careless as was the famous word-master over the spelling of words in the tongues that he never really mastered scientifically, he could scarcely have made so obvious a blunder as this, and there must have been some particular experience in the lives of husband and wife that led to the playful designation.[ ] here are the two letters: to george borrow, esq. grenville place, brighton, sussex. my darling husband,--i am thankful to say that i arrived here quite safe on saturday, and on wednesday i hope to see you at home. we may not be home before the evening about six o'clock, sooner or later, so do not be anxious, as we shall be careful. we took tea with the edwards at six o'clock the day i came; they are a very kind, nice family. you must take a walk when we come home, but remember now we have a young servant, and do not leave the house for very long together. the air here is very fresh, and much cooler than in london, and i hope after the five days' change i shall be benefited, but i wish to come home on wednesday. see to all the doors and windows of a night, and let jane keep up the chain, and lock the back door by the hop plant before it gets dark. our love to lady soame.--and with our best love to you, believe me, your own carreta. _sunday morning, o'clock._ if i do not hear from you i shall conclude all is well, and you may do the same with regard to us. have the tea ready a little before six on wednesday. henrietta is wonderfully improved by the change, and sends dear and best love to you. to george borrow, esq. grenville place, brighton, sussex. _thursday morning_. my dear husband,--as it is raining again this morning i write a few lines to you. i cannot think that we have quite so much rain as you have at brompton, for i was out _twice_ yesterday, an hour in the morning in a bath chair, and a little walk in the evening on the marine parade, and i have been out little or much every day, and hope i feel a little better. our dear henrietta likewise says that she feels the better for the air and change. as we are here i think we had better remain till tuesday next, when the fortnight will be up, but i fear you feel very lonely. i hope you get out when you can, and that you take care of your health. i hope ellen continues to attend to yr. comfort, and that when she gives orders to mrs. harvey or the butcher that she shews you what they send. i shall want the stair carpets down, and the drawing-room _nice_--blinds and shutters closed to prevent the sun, also bed-rooms prepared, with well _aired sheets_ and counterpane _by next tuesday_. i suppose we shall get to hereford square perhaps about five o'clock, but i shall write again. you had better dine at yr. usual time, and as we shall get a dinner here we shall want only tea. henrietta's kindest dear love and mine, remaining yr. true and affectionate wife. carreta. there is one letter from borrow to his wife, written from london in , in which he says: i have not been particularly well since i wrote last; indeed, the weather has been so horrible that it is enough to depress anybody's spirits, and, of course, mine. i did very wrong not to bring you when i came, for without you i cannot get on at all. left to myself a gloom comes upon me which i cannot describe.[ ] assuredly no reader can peruse the following pages without recognising the true affection for his wife that is transparent in his letters to her. arthur dalrymple's remark that he had frequently seen borrow and his wife travelling: he stalking along with a huge cloak wrapped round him in all weathers, and she trudging behind him like an indian squaw, with a carpet bag, or bundle, or small portmanteau in her arms, and endeavouring under difficulty to keep up with his enormous strides, is clearly a travesty. 'mrs. borrow was devoted to her husband, and looked after business matters; and he always treated her with exceeding kindness,' is the verdict of miss elizabeth jay, who was frequently privileged to visit the husband and wife at oulton. footnotes: [ ] all i know of henry clarke is contained in two little documents in my borrow papers which run as follows: 'these are to certify the principal officers and commissioners of h.m. navy that mr. henry clarke has served as midshipman on board h.m. ship _salvador del mundo_ under my command from the september to the date hereof, during which time he behaved with diligence, sobriety, and attention, and was always obedient to command. given under my hand on board the _salvador del mundo_ the april . james nash, _captain_.' 'these are to certify the principal officers and commissioners of h.m. navy that mr. henry clarke has served as midshipman on board h.m. ship _tisiphone_ under my command from the th of june to the date hereof, during which time he behaved with diligence, sobriety, and attention, and was always obedient to command. given under my hand on board the _tisiphone_ in the needles passage this th day of november . e. hodder, _captain_.' [ ] _vide supra_, p. . [ ] knapp's _life_, vol. i. . [ ] the tombs in oulton churchyard bear the following inscriptions: ( ) beneath this stone are interred in the same grave the mortal remains of edmund skepper, who died febry. th, , aged . also ann skepper, his wife, who died sept. th, , aged . ( ) beneath this stone are interred the mortal remains of breame skepper, who died may nd, , aged , leaving a wife and six children to lament his severe loss. ( ) sacred to the memory of lieut. henry clarke of his maj.'s royal navy, who departed this life on the st of march , aged years, leaving a firmly attached widow and an infant daughter to lament his irreparable loss. a further tomb commemorates the mother of george borrow, whose epitaph is given elsewhere. [ ] the following document in henrietta's handwriting is among my borrow papers: 'when my grandfather died he owed a mortgage of £ on the oulton hall estate--to a mrs. purdy. 'at my grandfather's death my mother applied to her brother for the money left to her and also the money left--beside the money owed to her daughter which is also mentioned in the will. she was refused both, and told moreover that neither the money nor the interest would be paid to her. 'my mother and i were living at the cottage since the funeral of my grandfather--the skeppers removed to the hall. the estate was to be sold--and my mother and myself were to be paid. 'my mother mentioned this to her solicitor, who hastened back to norwich and got £ --which he carried to the old lady, mrs. purdy, next day and paid off the mortgage. my mother then was mortgagee in possession--after which she let the place for what she could get--this accounts for the whole affair and the whole confusion. 'my mother was a widow at this time and remained so for some time after--consequently all transactions took place with her and not with mr. borrow--she being afterwards married to mr. borrow without a settlement. 'after this, in , the place was again put up by public auction and bought in by mr. borrow and my mother.' [ ] knapp's _life_, vol. i. pp. , . [ ] the following suggestion has, however, been made to me by a friend of henrietta macoubrey _née_ clarke: 'i think borrow intended "carreta" for "dearest," it is impossible to think that he would call his wife a "cart." perhaps he intended "carreta" for "querida." probably their pronunciation was not castillian, and they spelled the word as they pronounced it. in speaking of her to "hen." borrow always called her "mamma." mrs. macoubrey took a great fancy to me because she said i was like "mamma." she meant in character, not in person.' [ ] dr. knapp: _life_, vol. ii p. . chapter xxi 'the children of the open air' behold george borrow, then, in a comfortable home on the banks of oulton broad--a family man. his mother--sensible woman--declines her son's invitation to live with the newly-married pair. she remains in the cottage at norwich where her husband died. the borrows were married in april , by may they had settled at oulton. it was a pleasantly secluded estate, and borrow's wife had £ a year. he had, a month before his marriage, written to mr. brandram to say that he had a work nearly ready for publication, and 'two others in a state of forwardness.' the title of the first of these books he enclosed in his letter. it was _the zincali: or an account of the gypsies of spain_. mr. samuel smiles, in his history of the house of murray--_a publisher and his friends_--thus relates the circumstances of its publication:-- in november a tall, athletic gentleman in black called upon mr. murray offering a ms. for perusal and publication.... mr. murray could not fail to be taken at first sight with this extraordinary man. he had a splendid physique, standing six feet two in his stockings, and he had brains as well as muscles, as his works sufficiently show. the book now submitted was of a very uncommon character, and neither the author nor the publisher were very sanguine about its success. mr. murray agreed, after perusal, to print and publish copies of _the gypsies of spain_, and divide the profits with the author. it was at the suggestion of richard ford, then the greatest living english authority on spain, that mr. murray published the book. it did not really commence to sell until _the bible in spain_ came a year or so later to bring the author reputation.[ ] from november to june only three hundred copies had been sold in spite of friendly reviews in some half dozen journals, including _the athenæum_ and _the literary gazette_. the first edition, it may be mentioned, contained on its title-page a description of the author as 'late agent of the british and foreign bible society in spain.'[ ] there is very marked compression in the edition now in circulation, and a perusal of the first edition reveals many interesting features that deserve to be restored for the benefit of the curious. but nothing can make _the zincali_ a great piece of literature. it was summarised by the _edinburgh review_ at the time as 'a hotch-potch of the jockey, tramper, philologist, and missionary.' that description, which was not intended to be as flattering as it sounds to-day, appears more to apply to _the bible in spain_. but _the zincali_ is too confused, too ill-arranged a book to rank with borrow's four great works. there are passages in it, indeed, so eloquent, so romantic, that no lover of borrow's writings can afford to neglect them. but this was not the book that gypsy-loving borrow, with the temperament of a romany, should have written, or could have written had he not been obsessed by the 'science' of his subject. his real work in gypsydom was to appear later in _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_. for borrow was not a man of science--a philologist, a folk-lorist of the first order. no one, indeed, who had read only _the zincali_ among borrow's works could see in it any suspicion of the writer who was for all time to throw a glamour over the gypsy, to make the 'children of the open air' a veritable cult, to earn for him the title of 'the walking lord of gypsy lore,' and to lay the foundations of an admirable succession of books both in fact and fiction--but not one as great as his own. the city of seville, it is clear, with sarcastic letters from bible society secretaries on one side, and some manner of love romance on the other, was not so good a place for an author to produce a real book as oulton was to become. richard ford hit the nail on the head when he said with quite wonderful prescience: how i wish you had given us more about yourself, instead of the extracts from those blunder-headed old spaniards, who knew nothing about gypsies! i shall give you the _rap_, on that, and a hint to publish your whole adventures for the last twenty years.[ ] henceforth borrow was to write about himself and to become a great author in consequence. for in writing about himself as in _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_ he was to write exactly as he felt about the gypsies, and to throw over them the glamour of his own point of view, the view of a man who loved the broad highway and those who sojourned upon it. in _the gypsies of spain_ we have a conventional estimate of the gypsies. 'there can be no doubt that they are human beings and have immortal souls,' he says, even as if he were writing a letter to the bible society. all his anecdotes about the gypsies are unfavourable to them, suggestive only of them as knaves and cheats. from these pictures it is a far cry to the creation of jasper petulengro and isopel berners. the most noteworthy figure in _the zincali_ is the gypsy soldier of valdepeñas, an unholy rascal. 'to lie, to steal, to shed human blood'--these are the most marked characteristics with which borrow endows the gypsies of spain. 'abject and vile as they have ever been, the gitános have nevertheless found admirers in spain,' says the author who came to be popularly recognised as the most enthusiastic admirer of the gypsies in spain and elsewhere. read to-day by the lover of borrow's other books _the zincali_ will be pronounced a readable collection of anecdotes, interspersed with much dull matter, with here and there a piece of admirable writing. but the book would scarcely have lived had it not been followed by four works of so fine an individuality. well might ford ask borrow for more about himself and less of the extracts from 'blunder-headed old spaniards.' when borrow came to write about himself he revealed his real kindness for the gypsy folk. he gave us jasper petulengro and the incomparable description of 'the wind on the heath.' he kindled the imagination of men, proclaimed the joys of vagabondage in a manner that thrilled many hearts. he had some predecessors and many successors, but 'none could then, or can ever again,' says the biographer of a later rye, 'see or hear of romanies without thinking of borrow.'[ ] in her biography of one of these successors in gypsy lore, charles godfrey leland, mrs. pennell discusses the probability that borrow and leland met in the british museum. that is admitted in a letter from leland to borrow in my possession. to this letter borrow made no reply. it was wrong of him. but he was then--in --a prematurely old man, worn out and saddened by neglect and a sense of literary failure. for this and for the other vagaries of those latter years borrow will not be judged harshly by those who read his story here. nothing could be more courteous than borrow's one letter to leland, written in the failing handwriting--once so excellent--of the last sad decade of his life: [illustration: an application for a book in the british museum, with borrows signature] hereford square, brompton, _nov. , ._ sir,--i have received your letter and am gratified by the desire you express to make my acquaintance. whenever you please to come i shall be happy to see you.--yours truly, george borrow.[ ] the meeting did not, through leland's absence from london, then take place. two years later it was another story. the failing powers were more noteworthy. borrow was by this time dead to the world, as the documents before me abundantly testify. it is not, therefore, necessary to assume, as leland's friends have all done, that borrow never replied because he was on the eve of publishing a book of his own about the gypsies. there seems no reason to assume, as dr. knapp does and as leland does, that this was the reason for the unanswered letter: to george borrow, esq. langham hotel, portland place, _march st, ._ dear sir,--i sincerely trust that the limited extent of our acquaintanceship will not cause this note to seem to you too presuming. _breviter_, i have thrown the results of my observations among english gypsies into a very unpretending little volume consisting almost entirely of facts gathered from the romany, without any theory. as i owe all my interest in the subject to your writings, and as i am sincerely grateful to you for the impulse which they gave me, i should like very much to dedicate my book to you. of course if your kindness permits i shall submit the proofs to you, that you may judge whether the work deserves the honour. i should have sent you the ms., but not long after our meeting at the british museum i left for egypt, whence i have very recently returned, to find my publisher clamorous for the promised copy. it is _not_--god knows--a mean and selfish desire to help my book by giving it the authority of your name, which induces this request. but i am earnestly desirous for my conscience' sake to publish nothing in the romany which shall not be true and sensible, even as all that you have written is true and sensible. therefore, _should_ you take the pains to glance over my proof, i should be grateful if you would signify to me any differences of opinion should there be ground for any. dr. a. f. pott in his _zigeuner_ (vol. ii. p. ), intimates very decidedly that you took the word _shastr_ (exhastra de moyses) from sanskrit and put it into romany; declaring that it would be very important if _shaster_ were romany. i mention in my book that english gypsies call the new testament (also any ms.) a _shaster_, and that a betting-book on a racecourse is called a _shaster_ 'because it is written.' i do not pretend in my book to such deep romany as you have achieved--all that i claim is to have collected certain words, facts, phrases, etc., out of the romany of the roads--corrupt as it is--as i have found it to-day. i deal only with the gypsy of the _decadence_. with renewed apology for intrusion should it seem such, i remain, yours very respectfully, charles g. leland. francis hindes groome remarked when reviewing borrow's _word book_ in ,[ ] that when _the gypsies of spain_ was published in 'there were not two educated men in england who possessed the slightest knowledge of romany.' in the intervening thirty-three years all this was changed. there was an army of gypsy scholars or scholar gypsies of whom leland was one, hindes groome another, and professor e. h. palmer a third, to say nothing of many scholars and students of romany in other lands. not one of them seemed when borrow published his _word book of the romany_ to see that he was the only man of genius among them. they only saw that he was an inferior philologist to them all. and so borrow, who prided himself on things that he could do indifferently quite as much as upon things that he could do well, suffered once again, as he was so often doomed to suffer, from the lack of appreciation which was all in all to him, and his career went out in a veritable blizzard. he published nothing after his _romano lavo-lil_ appeared in .[ ] he was then indeed a broken and a bitter man, with no further interest in life. dedications of books to him interested him not at all. in any other mood, or a few years earlier, leland's book, _the english gypsies_,[ ] would have gladdened his heart. in his preface leland expresses 'the highest respect for the labours of mr. george borrow in this field,' he quotes borrow continually and with sympathy, and renders him honour as a philologist, that has usually been withheld. 'to mr. borrow is due the discovery that the word _jockey_ is of gypsy origin and derived from _chuckiri_, which means a whip,' and he credits borrow with the discovery of the origin of 'tanner' for sixpence; he vindicates him as against dr. a. f. pott,--a prince among students of gypsydom--of being the first to discover that the english gypsies call the bible the _shaster_. but there is a wealth of scientific detail in leland's books that is not to be found in borrow's, as also there is in francis hindes groome's works. what had borrow to do with science? he could not even give the word 'rúmani' its accent, and called it 'romany.' he 'quietly appropriated,' says groome, 'bright's spanish gypsy words for his own work, mistakes and all, without one word of recognition. i think one has the ancient impostor there.'[ ] 'his knowledge of the strange history of the gypsies was very elementary, of their manners almost more so, and of their folk-lore practically _nil_,' says groome elsewhere.[ ] yet mr. hindes groome readily acknowledges that borrow is above all writers on the gypsies. 'he communicates a subtle insight into gypsydom'--that is the very essence of the matter.[ ] controversy will continue in the future as in the present as to whether the gypsies are all that borrow thought them. perhaps 'corruption has crept in among them' as it did with the prize-fighters. they have intermarried with the gorgios, thrown over their ancient customs, lost all their picturesque qualities, it may be. but borrow has preserved in literature for all time, as not one of the philologists and folk-lore students has done, a remarkable type of people. but this is not to be found in his first original work, _the zincali_, nor in his last, _the romano lavo-lil_. this glamour is to be found in _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_, to which books we shall come in due course. here we need only refer to the fact that borrow had loved the gypsies all his life--from his boyish meeting with petulengro until in advancing years the prototype of that wonderful creation of his imagination--for this the petulengro of _lavengro_ undoubtedly was--came to visit him at oulton. well might leland call him 'the nestor of gypsydom.' we find the following letter to dr. bowring accompanying a copy of _the zincali_: to dr. john bowring. jermyn street, st. james, _april , ._ my dear sir,--i have sent you a copy of my work by the mail. if you could contrive to notice it some way or other i should feel much obliged. murray has already sent copies to all the journals. it is needless to tell you that despatch in these matters is very important, the first blow is everything. lord clarendon is out of town. so i must send him his presentation copy through murray, and then write to him. i am very unwell, and must go home. my address is george borrow, oulton hall, oulton, lowestoft, suffolk. your obedient servant, george borrow. two years later we find borrow writing to an unknown correspondent upon a phase of folk-lore: oulton, lowestoft, suffolk, _august , ._ my dear sir,--many thanks for your interesting and kind letter in which you do me the honour to ask my opinion respecting the pedigree of your island goblin, le feu follet belenger; that opinion i cheerfully give with a premise that it is only an opinion; in hunting for the etymons of these fairy names we can scarcely expect to arrive at anything like certainty. i suppose you are aware that the name of bilenger or billinger is of occasional though by no means of frequent occurrence both in england and france. i have seen it; you have heard of billings-gate and of billingham, the unfortunate assassin of poor percival,--all modifications of the same root; belingart, bilings home or billing ston. but what is billin-ger? clearly that which is connected in some way or other with billing. you will find _ger_, or something like it, in most european-tongues--boulan_ger_, horolo_ger_, tal_ker_, walk_er_, ba_ker_, bre_wer_, beg_gar_. in welsh it is of frequent occurrence in the shape of _ur_ or _gwr_--hen_ur_ (an eld_er_), her_wr_ (a prow_ler_); in russian the ger, gwr, ur, er, appears in the shape of _ik_ or _k_--sapojgn_ik_, a shoema_ker_, chinobu_ik_, a man possessed of rank. the root of all these, as well as of _or_ in senator, victor, etc., is the sanscrit _ker_ or _kir_, which means lord, master, maker, doer, possessor of something or connected with something. we want now to come at the meaning of beling or billing, which probably means some action, or some moral or personal attribute; bolvile in anglo-saxon means honest, danish bollig; wallen, in german, to wanken or move restlessly about; baylan, in spanish, to dance (ball? ballet?), connected with which are to whirl, to fling, and possibly belinger therefore may mean a billiger or honest fellow, or it may mean a walter_ger_, a whirl_enger_, a flinger, or something connected with restless motion. allow me to draw your attention to the word 'will' in the english word will-o-the-wisp; it must not be supposed that this will is the abbreviation of william; it is pure danish, 'vild'--pronounced will,--and signifies wild; vilden visk, the wild or moving wisp. i can adduce another instance of the corruption of the danish vild into will: the rustics of this part of england are in the habit of saying 'they are led will' (vild or wild) when from intoxication or some other cause they are bewildered at night and cannot find their way home. this expression is clearly from the old norse or danish. i am not at all certain that 'bil' in bilinger may not be this same will or vild, and that the word may not be a corruption of vilden, old or elder, wild or flying fire. it has likewise occurred to me that bilinger may be derived from 'volundr,' the worship of the blacksmith or northern vulcan. your obedient servant, george borrow. footnotes: [ ] there were copies of the first edition of _the zincali_ in two vols. in . of the second edition in , and a third issue of in the same year. a fourth edition of , copies appeared in the cheap home and colonial library in , and there was a fifth edition of copies in . these were all the editions published in england during borrow's lifetime. dr. knapp traced three american editions during the same period. [ ] _the zincali; or an account of the gypsies of spain_. with an original collection of their songs and poetry, and a copious dictionary of their language. by george borrow, late agent of the british and foreign bible society in spain. '_for that which is unclean by nature, thou canst entertain no hope; no washing will turn the gypsy white_.'--ferdousi. in two volumes. london: john murray, albemarle street, . [ ] knapp's _life_, vol. i. p. . [ ] mrs. pennell. see _charles godfrey leland: a biography_, by elizabeth robins pennell. vols. . [ ] given in mrs. pennell's _leland: a biography_, vol. ii. pp. - . the letter to which it is a reply is given in knapp's _borrow_, vol. ii. pp. - . [ ] _the academy_, june , . [ ] _romano lavo-lil: word book of the romany; or, english gypsy language_. by george borrow. london: john murray, albemarle street, . [ ] charles godfrey leland ( - ) better known as 'hans breitmann' of the popular ballads, was born in philadelphia and died in florence. he was always known among his friends as 'the rye,' in consequence of his enthusiasm for the gypsies concerning whom he wrote four books, the best known being: _the english gypsies and their language_, by charles g. leland: trübner. _the gypsies_, by charles g. leland: trübner. [ ] see groome's _in gipsy tents_ (w. p. nimmo, ), and _gipsy folk-tales_ (hurst & blackett, ). francis hindes groome ( - ), whom it was my privilege to know, was the son of archdeacon groome, the friend of edward fitzgerald. he was the greatest english authority of his time on gypsy language and folk-lore. he celebrated his father's friendship with the paraphraser of omar khayyám in _two suffolk friends_, , and wrote a good novel of gypsydom in _kriegspiel_, . he also edited an edition of _lavengro_ (methuen), . [ ] groome to leland in _charles godfrey leland: a biography_, by e. r. pennell, vol. ii. p. . [ ] introduction to _lavengro_ (methuen), . chapter xxii _the bible in spain_ in an admirable appreciation of our author, the one in which he gives the oft-quoted eulogy concerning him as 'the delightful, the bewitching, the never-sufficiently-to-be-praised george borrow,' mr. birrell records the solace that may be found by small boys in the ambiguities of a title-page, or at least might have been found in it in his youth and in mine. in those days in certain puritan circles a very strong line was drawn between what was known as sunday reading, and reading that might be permitted on week-days. the sunday book must have a religious flavour. there were magazines with that particular flavour, every story in them having a pious moral withal. very closely watched and scrutinised was the reading of young people in those days and in those circles. mr. birrell, doubtless, speaks from autobiographical memories when he tells us of a small boy with whose friends _the bible in spain_ passed muster on the strength of its title-page. for mr. birrell is the son of a venerated nonconformist minister; and perhaps he, or at least those who were of his household, had this religious idiosyncrasy. it may be that the distinction which pervaded the evangelical circles of mr. birrell's youth as to what were sunday books, as distinct from books to be read on week-days, has disappeared. in any case think of the advantage of the boy of that generation who was able to handle a book with so unexceptionable a title as _the bible in spain_. his elders would succumb at once, particularly if the boy had the good sense to call their attention to the sub-title--'the journeys, adventures, and imprisonments of an englishman in an attempt to circulate the scriptures in the peninsula.' nothing could be said by the most devout of seniors against so prepossessing a title-page.[ ] but what of the boy who had thus passed the censorship? what a revelation of adventure was open to him! perhaps he would skip the 'preachy' parts in which borrow was doubtless sincere, although the sincerity has so uncertain a ring to-day. here are five passages, for example, which do not seem to belong to the book: in whatever part of the world i, a poor wanderer in the gospel's cause, may chance to be * * * * * very possibly the fate of st. stephen might overtake me; but does the man deserve the name of a follower of christ who would shrink from danger of any kind in the cause of him whom he calls his master? 'he who loses his life for my sake shall find it,' are words which the lord himself uttered. these words were fraught with consolation to me, as they doubtless are to every one engaged in propagating the gospel, in sincerity of heart, in savage and barbarian lands. * * * * * unhappy land! not until the pure light of the gospel has illumined thee, wilt thou learn that the greatest of all gifts is charity! * * * * * and i thought that to convey the gospel to a place so wild and remote might perhaps be considered an acceptable pilgrimage in the eyes of my maker. true it is that but one copy remained of those which i had brought with me on this last journey; but this reflection, far from discouraging me in my projected enterprise, produced the contrary effect, as i called to mind that, ever since the lord revealed himself to man, it has seemed good to him to accomplish the greatest ends by apparently the most insufficient means; and i reflected that this one copy might serve as an instrument for more good than the four thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine copies of the edition of madrid. * * * * * i shall not detain the course of my narrative with reflections as to the state of a church which, though it pretends to be founded on scripture, would yet keep the light of scripture from all mankind, if possible. but rome is fully aware that she is not a christian church, and having no desire to become so, she acts prudently in keeping from the eyes of her followers the page which would reveal to them the truths of christianity. all this does not ring quite true, and in any case it is too much on the lines of 'sunday reading' to please the small boy, who must, however, have found a thousand things in that volume that were to his taste--some of the wildest adventures, hairbreadth escapes, extraordinary meetings again and again with unique people--with benedict mol, for example, who was always seeking for treasure. gypsies, bull-fighters, quaint and queer characters of every kind, come before us in rapid succession. rarely, surely, have so many adventures been crowded into the same number of pages. only when borrow remembers, as he has to do occasionally, that he is an agent of the bible society does the book lose its vigour and its charm. we have already pointed out that the foundations of the volume were contained in certain letters written by borrow during his five years in spain to the secretaries of the bible society in london. the recent publication of these letters has revealed to us borrow's methods. when he had settled down at oulton he took down his notebooks, one of which is before me, but finding this was not sufficient, he asked the bible society for the loan of his letters to them.[ ] other letters that he hoped to use were not forthcoming, as the following note from miss gurney to mrs. borrow indicates: to mrs. george borrow earlham, _ th june ._ dear mrs. borrow,--i am sorry i cannot find any of mr. borrow's letters from spain. i don't think we ever had any, but my brother is from home and i therefore cannot inquire of him. i send you the only two i can find. i am very glad he is going to publish his travels, which i have no doubt will be very interesting. it must be a pleasant object to assist him by copying the manuscripts. if i should visit lowestoft this summer i shall hope to see you, but i have no immediate prospect of doing so. with kind regards to all your party, i am, dear mrs. borrow, yours sincerely, c. gurney.[ ] the bible society applied to in the same manner lent borrow all his letters to that organisation and its secretaries. not all were returned. many came to dr. knapp when he purchased the half of the borrow papers that were sold after borrow's death; the remainder are in my possession. it is a nice point, seventy years after they were written, as to whom they belong. in any case the bible society must have kept copies of everything, for when, in , they came to publish the _letters_[ ] the collection was sufficiently complete. that publication revealed some interesting sidelights. it proved on the one hand that borrow had drawn more upon his diaries than upon his letters, although he frequently reproduced fragments of his diaries in his letters. it revealed further the extraordinary frankness with which borrow wrote to his employers. but the main point is in the discovery revealed to us that borrow was not an artist in his letters. borrow was never a good letter writer, although i think that many of the letters that appear for the first time in these pages will prove that his letters are very interesting as contributions to biography. if some of the letters that helped to make up _the bible in spain_ are interesting, it is because in them borrow incorporated considerable fragments of anecdote and adventure from his notebooks. it is quite a mistake to assume, as does dr. knapp, that the 'rev. and dear sir' at the head of a letter was the only variation. you will look in vain in the bible society correspondence for many a pearl that is contained in _the bible in spain_, and you will look in vain in _the bible in spain_ for many a sentence which concludes some of the original letters. in one case, indeed, a letter concludes with heber's hymn-- 'from greenland's icy mountains,' with which borrow's correspondent must already have been sufficiently familiar. but borrow could not be other than borrow, and the secretaries of the bible society had plentiful matter with which to astonish them. the finished production, however, is a fascinating book. you read it again and it becomes still more entertaining. no wonder that it took the world by storm and made its author the lion of a season. 'a queer book will be this same _bible in spain_,' wrote borrow to john murray in august , 'containing all my queer adventures in that queer country ... it will make two nice foolscap octavo volumes.'[ ] it actually made three volumes, and borrow was as irritated at mr. murray's delay in publishing as that publisher afterwards became at borrow's own delay over _lavengro_. the whole book was laboriously copied out by mrs. borrow. when this copy was sent to mr. murray, it was submitted to his 'reader,' who reported 'numerous faults in spelling and some in grammar,' to which criticism borrow retorted that the copy was the work of 'a country amanuensis.' the book was published in december , but has the date on its title-page.[ ] in its three-volumed form copies of the book were issued by july , after which countless copies were sold in cheaper one-volumed form. success had at last come to borrow. he was one of the most talked-of writers of the day. his elation may be demonstrated by his discussion with dawson turner as to whether he should leave the manuscript of _the bible in spain_ to the dean and chapter's library at norwich or to the british museum, by his gratification at the fact that sir robert peel referred to his book in the house of commons, and by his pleasure in the many appreciative reviews which, indeed, were for the most part all that an ambitious author could desire. 'never,' said _the examiner_, 'was book more legibly impressed with the unmistakable mark of genius.' 'there is no taking leave of a book like this,' said the _athenæum_. 'better christmas fare we have never had it in our power to offer our readers.' [illustration: a shekel given to borrow by hasfeld, his danish friend, as a talisman when they parted at st. petersburg. in _the bible in spain_ borrow relates that he showed this shekel at gibraltar to a jew, who exclaimed, 'brothers, witness, these are the letters of solomon. this silver is blessed. we must kiss this money.'] the publication of _the bible in spain_ made borrow famous for a time. hitherto he had been known only to a small religious community, the coterie that ran the bible society. even the large mass of people who subscribed to that society knew its agent in spain only by meagre allusions in the annual reports. now the world was to talk about him, and he enjoyed being talked about. borrow declared--in --that the five years he passed in spain were the most happy years of his existence. but then he had not had a happy life during the previous years, as we have seen, and in russia he had a toilsome task with an added element of uncertainty as to the permanence of his position. the five years in spain had plentiful adventure, and they closed in a pleasant manner. yet the year that followed, even though it found him almost a country squire, was not a happy one. once again the world did not want him and his books--not the _gypsies of spain_ for example. seven weeks after publication it had sold only to the extent of some three hundred copies.[ ] but the happiest year of borrow's life was undoubtedly the one that followed the publication of _the bible in spain_. up to that time he had been a mere adventurer; now he was that most joyous of beings--a successful author; and here, from among his papers, is a carefully preserved relic of his social triumph: to george borrow, esq., at mr. murray's, bookseller, albemarle street. carlton terrace, _tuesday, th may._ the prussian minister and madam bunsen would be very happy to see mr. borrow to-morrow, wednesday evening, about half past nine o'clock or later, when some german national songs will be performed at their house, which may possibly suit mr. borrow's taste. they hoped to have met him last night at the bishop of norwich's, but arrived there too late. they had already commissioned lady hall (sister to madam bunsen) to express to mr. borrow their wish for his acquaintance. in a letter to his wife, of which a few lines are printed in dr. knapp's book, he also writes of this visit to the prussian minister, where he had for company 'princes and members of parliament.' 'i was the star of the evening,' he says; 'i thought to myself, "what a difference!"'[ ] the following letter is in a more sober key: to mrs. george borrow, oulton, suffolk. _wednesday_, jermyn street. dear carreta,--i was glad to receive your letter; i half expected one on tuesday. i am, on the whole, very comfortable, and people are kind. i passed last sunday at clapham with mrs. browne; i was glad to go there for it was a gloomy day. they are now glad enough to ask me: i suppose i must stay in london through next week. i have an invitation to two grand parties, and it is as well to have something for one's money. i called at the bible society--all remarkably civil, joseph especially so. i think i shall be able to manage with my own dictionary. there is now a great demand for morrison. yesterday i again dined at the murrays. there was a family party; very pleasant. to-morrow i dine with an old schoolfellow. murray is talking of printing a new edition to sell for five shillings: those rascals, the americans, have, it seems, reprinted it, and are selling it for _eighteen_ pence. murray says he shall print ten thousand copies; it is chiefly wanted for the colonies. he says the rich people and the libraries have already got it, and he is quite right, for nearly three thousand copies have been sold at s.[ ] there is no longer the high profit to be made on books there formerly was, as the rascals abroad pirate the good ones, and in the present state of copyright there is no help; we can, however, keep the american edition out of the colonies, which is something. i have nothing more to say save to commend you not to go on the water without me; perhaps you would be overset; and do not go on the bridge again till i come. take care of habismilk and craffs; kiss the little mare and old hen. george borrow. the earliest literary efforts of borrow in spain were his two translations of st. luke's gospel--the one into romany, the other into basque. this last book he did not actually translate himself, but procured 'from a basque physician of the name of oteiza.' [illustration: title-page of basque translation by oteiza of the gospel of st. luke] [illustration: title-page of first edition of romany translation of the gospel of st. luke] [illustration: two pages from borrow's corrected proof sheets of romany translation of the gospel of st. luke] footnotes: [ ] yet one critic of borrow--jane h. findlater, in the _cornhill magazine_, november --actually says that '_the bible in spain_ was perhaps the most ill-advised title that a well-written book ever laboured under, giving, as it does, the idea that the book is a prolonged tract.' [ ] borrow had really written a great deal of the book in spain. the 'notebook' contained many of his adventures, and moreover on august , , the _athenæum_, published two long letters from him under the title of 'the gypsies in russia and in spain,' opening with the following preliminary announcement: we have been obligingly favoured with the following extracts from letters of an intelligent gentleman, whose literary labours, the least important of his life, we not long since highly praised, but whose name we are not at liberty, on this occasion, to make public. they contain some curious and interesting facts relating to the condition of this peculiar people in very distant countries. the first letter is dated september , , and gives an account of his experiences with the gypsies in russia. the whole of this account he incorporated in _the gypsies of spain_. following this there are two columns, dated madrid, july , , in which he gives an account of the gypsies in spain. all the episodes that he relates he incorporated in _the bible in spain_. the two letters so plainly indicate that all the time borrow was in spain his mind was more filled with the subject of the gypsies than with any other question. he did his work well for the bible society no doubt, and gave them their money's worth, but there is a humorous note in the fact that borrow should have utilised his position as a missionary--for so we must count him--to make himself so thoroughly acquainted with gypsy folklore and gypsy songs and dances as these two fragments by an 'intelligent gentleman' imply. it is not strange that under the circumstances borrow did not wish that his name should be made public. [ ] this was miss catherine gurney, who was born in , in magdalen street, norwich, and died at lowestoft in , aged seventy-five. she twice presided over the earlham home. the brother referred to was joseph john gurney. [ ] _letters of george borrow to the british and foreign bible society_. published by direction of the committee. edited by t. h. darlow. hodder and stoughton, . [ ] samuel smiles: _a publisher and his friends_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] _the bible in spain; or the journeys, adventures, and imprisonments of an englishman in an attempt to circulate the scriptures in the peninsula_. by george borrow, author of _the gypsies of spain_. in three volumes. london: john murray, albemarle st., . [ ] herbert jenkins: _life_, p. . [ ] knapp's _life_, vol. i. p. . in the _annals of the harford family_, edited by alice harford (westminster press, ), there is an account of this gathering in a letter from j. harford-battersby to louisa harford. there was present 'the amusing author of _the bible in spain_, a man who is remarkable for his extraordinary powers as a linguist, and for the originality of his character, not to speak of the wonderful adventures he narrates, and the ease and facility with which he tells them. he kept us laughing a good part of breakfast time by the oddity of his remarks, as well as the positiveness of his assertions, often rather startling, and, like his books, partaking of the marvellous.' [ ] copies were sold in the three volume form in , and a sixth and cheaper edition the same year sold copies. chapter xxiii richard ford the most distinguished of borrow's friends in the years that succeeded his return from spain was richard ford, whose interests were so largely wrapped-up in the story of that country. ford was possessed of a very interesting personality, which was not revealed to the public until mr. rowland e. prothero issued his excellent biography[ ] in , although ford died in . this delay is the more astonishing as ford's _handbook for travellers in spain_ was one of the most famous books of its day. ford's father, sir richard ford, was a friend of william pitt, and twice sat in parliament, being at one time under-secretary of state for the home department. he ended his official career as a police magistrate at bow street, but deserves to be better known to fame as the creator of the mounted police force of london. ford was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, inheriting a fortune from his father, and from his mother an extraordinary taste for art. although called to the bar he never practised, but spent his time in travelling on the continent, building up a valuable collection of books and paintings. he was three times married, and all these unions seem to have been happy, in spite of an almost unpleasant celerity in the second alliance, which took place nine months after the death of his first wife. a very large portion of his life he devoted to spain, which he knew so intimately that in he produced that remarkable _handbook_ in two closely printed volumes, a most repellent-looking book in appearance to those who are used to contemporary typography, usually so attractive. ford, in fact, was so full of his subject that instead of a handbook he wrote a work which ought to have appeared in half a dozen volumes. in later editions the book was condensed into one of mr. murray's usual guide-books, but the curious may still enjoy the work in its earliest form, so rich in discussions of the spanish people, their art and architecture, their history and their habits. the greater part of the letters in mr. prothero's collection are addressed to addington, who was our ambassador to madrid for some years, until he was superseded by george villiers, lord clarendon, with whom borrow came so much in contact. those letters reveal a remarkably cultivated mind and an interesting outlook on life, an outlook that was always intensely anti-democratic. it is impossible to sympathise with him in his brutal reference to the execution by the spaniards of robert boyd, a young irishman who was captured with torrijos by the spanish government in . richard ford apparently left spain very shortly before george borrow entered that country. ford passed through madrid on his way to england in september . he then settled near exeter, purchasing an elizabethan cottage called heavitree house, with twelve acres of land, and devoted himself to turning it into a beautiful mansion. presumably he first met borrow in mr. john murray's famous drawing-room soon after the publication of _the gypsies of spain_. he tells addington, indeed, in a letter of th january : i have made acquaintance with an extraordinary fellow, george borrow, who went out to spain to convert the gypsies. he is about to publish his failure, and a curious book it will be. it was submitted to my perusal by the hesitating murray. ford's article upon borrow's book appeared in _the british and foreign review_, and ford was delighted that the book had created a sensation, and that he had given sound advice as to publishing the manuscript. when _the bible in spain_ was ready, ford was one of the first to read it. then he wrote to john murray: i read borrow with great delight all the way down per rail. you may depend upon it that the book will sell, which after all is the rub. and in that letter ford describes the book as putting him in mind of gil blas with 'a touch of bunyan.' lockhart himself reviewed the book in _the quarterly_, so ford had to go to the rival organ--_the edinburgh review_--receiving £ for the article, which sum, he tells us, he invested in château margaux. ford's first letter to borrow in my collection is written in spanish: to george borrow, esq., oulton hall, lowestoft. heavitree house, exeter, _jan. , ._ querido compadre,--mucho m'ha alegrado el buen termino de sus trabajos literarios que v.m. me participó. vaya con los picaros de zincali, buenas pesetas han cobrado--siempre he tenido á los sres. m. como muy hombres de bien, suele ser que los que tratan mucho con personages de categoria, tomen un algo del grande y liberal. convega v.m. que soy critico de tipo, y que digo, 'bahi de los gabicotes.' conosco bastante loque agradecera al muy noble y illustrado publico--conque sigue v.m. adelante y no dejes nada en el tintero, pero por vida del demonio, huyese v.m. de los historiadores españoles, embusteros y majaderos. siento mucho que v.m. haya salido de londres, salgo de esto sabato, y pienso hacer una visita de como unas tres semanas, en la casa maternal, como es mi costumbre por el mes de los aguinaldos. con mucho gusto hubiera praticado con v.m. y charleado sobre las cosas de españa y otra chismografia gitanesca y zandungera, por ahora no entiendo nada de eso. no dejaré de llevar conmigo los papeles y documentos que v.m. se sirvio de remitirme á cheltenham. haré de ellos un paquete, y lo confiaré á los señores murray, para quando v.m. guste reclamarlo. haré el mio posible de averiguar y aprofundicar aquellos misterios y gente estrambotica. el señor murray hijo, me escrive muy contento de la _biblia en españa_. descaria yo escribir un articulo sobre asunto tan relleno de interes. talvez el articulo mio de los gitanos parecera en el numero proximo, y en tal caso ha de ser mas util á v.m. que no hubiera sido ahora. la vida y memoria de las revistas, es muy corta. salen como miraposas y mueren en un dia. los muertos y los idos no tienen amigos. los vivos á la mesa, y los muertos á la huesa. al istante que está imprimido un nuevo numero, el pasado y esta olvidado y entra entre las cosas del rey wamba. que le parece á v.m., ultimamente en un baile donde sacaron un rey de hubas (twelfth night) tiré el krallis de los zincali. incluyo á v. majestad tabula, de veras es preciso que yo tengo en mis venas algunas gotitas de legitimo errante. el señor gagargos viene á ser nombrado consul español á tunis, donde no le faltaron medios de adelantarse en el idioma y literatura arabica. queda de s.m. afemo. su amigo, q.b.s.m., richard ford.[ ] here is a second letter of the following month: _february th_, heavitree house, exeter. batuschca borrow,--i am glad that the paper pleased you, and i think it calculated to promote the sale, which a too copious extracting article does not always do, as people think that they have had the cream. napier sent me £ for the thirty-two pages; this, with kemble's £ , s. for the _zincali_, nearly reaches £ : i lay it out in claret, being not amiss to do in the world, and richer by many hundreds a year than last year, but with a son at eton and daughters coming out, and an overgrown set of servants, money is never to be despised, and i find that expenditure by some infernal principle has a greater tendency to increase than income, and that when the latter increases it never does so in the ratio of the former--enough of that. how to write an article without being condensed--epigrammatical and _epitomical cream-skimming that is_--i know not, one has so much to say and so little space to say it in. i rejoice to hear of your meditated biography; really i am your wet nurse, and you ought to dedicate it to me; take time, but not too much; avoid all attempts to write fine; just dash down the first genuine uppouring idea and thoughts in the plainest language and that which comes first, and then fine it and compress it. let us have a glossary; for people cry out for a dragoman, and half your local gusto evaporates. i am amazed at the want of profits--'tis sad to think what meagre profits spring from pen and ink; but cervantes died a beggar and is immortal. it is the devil who comes into the market with ready money: _no_ solvendum in futuro: i well know that it is cash down which makes the mare to go; dollars will add spurs even to the prince of mustard's paces. it is a bore not receiving even the crumbs which drop from such tables as those spread by mr. eyre: murray, however, is a deep cove, _y muy pratico en cosas de libreteria_: and he knew that the _first out_ about afghan would sell prodigiously. i doubt now if lady sale would now be such a general sale. murray builds solid castles in eyre. los de españa rezalo bene de ser siempre muy cosas de españa: cachaza! cachaza! firme, firme! arhse! no dejei nada en el tintero; basta que sea nuevo y muy piquunte cor sal y ajo: a los ingleses le gustan mucho las longanizas de abarbenel y los buenos choriyos de montanches: el handbook sa her concluido jeriayer: abora principia el trabajo: tengo benho un monton de papel acombroso. el menester reducirlo a la mitad y eso so hara castratandolo de lo bueno duro y particolar a romperse el alma: i had nothing to do whatever with the _manner_ in which the handbook puff was affixed to your book. i wrote the said paper, but concluded that murray would put it, as usual, in the fly-leaf of the book, as he does in his others, and the _q. rev._ sabe mucho el hijo--ha imaginado altacar mi obresilla al flejo de vuestra immortalidad y lo que le toca de corazon, facilitarsele la venta. yo no tengo nada en eso y quedé tanalustado amo v^{m} a la primera vista de aquella hoja volante. conque mantengare v^{m} bueno y alegre y mande v^{m} siempre, a s : s : s : y buen critico, l : i : m : b., r. f. during these years-- and onwards--borrow was regularly corresponding with ford. i quote a sentence from one of these letters: borrow writes me word that his life is nearly ready, and it will run the bible hull down. if he tells truth it will be a queer thing. i shall review it for _the edinburgh_. to george borrow, esq., oulton hall, lowestoft. park mansions, _thursday, april , ._ batuschca b.,--knowing that you seldom see a newspaper i send you one in which peel speaks very handsomely of your labour. such a public testimonial is a good puff, and i hope will attract purchasers.--sincerely yours, r. f. this speech of peel's in the house of commons, in which in reply to a very trivial question by dr. bowring, then m.p. for bolton, upon the subject of the correspondence of the british government with turkey, the great statesman urged: it might have been said to mr. borrow, with respect to spain, that it would be impossible to distribute the bible in that country in consequence of the danger of offending the prejudices which prevail there; yet he, a private individual, by showing some zeal in what he believed to be right, succeeded in triumphing over many obstacles.[ ] borrow was elated with the compliment, and asked mr. murray two months later if he could not advertise the eulogium with one of his books. in june , while the _handbook for travellers in spain_ was going to press, ford went on a visit to borrow at oulton, and describes the pair as 'two rum coves in a queer country'; and further gives one of the best descriptions of the place: his house hangs over a lonely lake covered with wild fowl, and is girt with dark firs through which the wind sighs sadly. when the _handbook for travellers in spain_ was published in it was agreed that borrow should write the review for _the quarterly_. instead of writing a review borrow, possessed by that tactlessness which so frequently overcame him, wrote an article on 'spain and the spaniards,' very largely of abuse, an absolutely useless production from the point of view of ford the author, and of lockhart, his editor friend. borrow never forgave lockhart for returning this manuscript, but that it had no effect on ford's friendship is shown by the following letter, dated (p. ), written long after the unfortunate episode, and another in dr. knapp's _life_, dated : to mrs. borrow, oulton hall, lowestoft. _oct. , _, cheltenham. my dear madam,--i trouble you with a line to say that i have received a letter from don jorge, from constantinople. he evidently is now anxious to be quietly back again on the banks of your peaceful lake; he speaks favourably of his health, which has been braced up by change of air, scenery, and occupations, so i hope he will get through next winter without any bronchitis, and go on with his own biography. he asks me when _handbook_ will be done? please to tell him that it is done and printing, but that it runs double the length which was contemplated: however, it will be a _queer_ book, and tell him that we reserve it until his return to _review_ it. i am now on the point of quitting this pretty place and making for my home at hevitre, where we trust to arrive next thursday. present my best compliments to your mother, and believe me, your faithful and obedient servant, rch. ford. when you write to don jorge thank him for his letter. to george borrow, esq., oulton hall, lowestoft. parliament street, grosvenor square, _feb. , ._ dear borrow,--_el hombre propose pero dios es que dispose._ i had hope to have run down and seen you and yours in your quiet patmos; but the sangrados will it otherwise. i have never been quite free from a tickling pain since the bronchitis of last year, and it has recently assumed the form of extreme relaxation and irritation in the uvula, which is that pendulous appendage which hangs over the orifice of the throat. mine has become so seriously elongated that, after submitting for four days last week to its being burnt with caustic every morning in the hopes that it might thus crimp and contract itself, i have been obliged to have it amputated. this has left a great soreness, which militates against talking and deglutition, and would render our charming chats after the madeira over la cheminea del _cueldo_ inadvisable. i therefore defer the visit: my sangrado recommends me, when the summer advances, to fly away into change of air, change of scene; in short, must seek an _hejira_ as you made. how strange the coincidence! but those who have wandered much about require periodical migration, as the encaged quail twice a year beats its breast against the wires. i am not quite determined where to go, whether to scotland and the sweet heath-aired hills, or to the wild rocks and clear trout streams of the tyrol; it is a question between the gun and the rod. if i go north assuredly si dios quiere i will take your friendly and peaceful abode in my way. as to my immediate plans i can say nothing before thursday, when the sangrado is to report on some diagnosis which he expects. meanwhile _handbook_ is all but out, and lockhart and murray are eager to have you in the _q. r._ i enclose you a note from the editor. how feel you inclined? i would send you down sheets, and you might run your eye through them. _there are plums in the pudding._ richard ford. a proof in slip form of the rejected review, with borrow's corrections written upon it, is in my possession. our author pictures gibraltar as a human entity thus addressing spain: accursed land! i hate thee, and far from being a defence, will invariably prove a thorn in thy side. and so on through many sentences of excited rhetoric. borrow forgot while he wrote that he had a book to review--a book, moreover, issued by the publishing house which issued the periodical in which his review was to appear. and this book was a book in ten thousand--a veritable mine of information and out of the way learning. surely this slight reference amid many dissertations of his own upon spain was to damn his friend's book with faint praise: a handbook is a handbook after all, a very useful thing, but still--the fact is that we live in an age of humbug, in which everything, to obtain note and reputation, must depend less upon its own intrinsic merit than on the name it bears. the present book is about one of the best books ever written upon spain; but we are afraid that it will never be estimated at its proper value; for after all a handbook is a handbook. yet successful as was ford's _handbook_, it is doubtful but that borrow was right in saying that it had better have been called _wanderings in spain_ or _wonders of the peninsula_. how much more gracious was the statement of another great authority on spain--sir william stirling-maxwell--who said that 'so great a literary achievement had never before been performed under so humble a title.' the article, however, furnishes a trace of autobiography in the statement by borrow that he had long been in the habit of reading _don quixote_ once every nine years. yet he tells us that he prefers le sage's _gil blas_ to _don quixote_, 'the characters introduced being certainly more true to nature.' but altogether we do not wonder that lockhart declined to publish the article. here is the last letter in my possession; after this there is one in the knapp collection dated , acknowledging a copy of _lavengro_, in which ford adds: 'mind when you come to see the exhibition you look in here, for i long to have a chat,' and so the friendship appears to have collapsed as so many friendships do. ford died at heavitree in : to george borrow, esq., oulton hall, lowestoft heavitree, _jany. , ._ querido don jorge,--how are you getting on in health and spirits? and how has this absence of winter suited you? are you inclined for a run up to town next week? i propose to do so, and murray, who has got washington irving, etc., to dine with him on wednesday the th, writes to me to know if i thought you could be induced to join us. let me whisper in your ear, yea: it will do you good and give change of air, scene and thought: we will go and beat up the renowned billy harper, and see how many more ribs are stoved in. i have been doing a paper for the _q. r._ on spanish architecture; how gets on the _lavengro_? i see the 'gypsies' are coming out in the _colonial_, which will have a vast sale. john murray seems to be flourishing in spite of corn and railomania. remember me kindly and respectfully to your ladies, and beg them to tell you what good it will do you to have a frisk up to town, and a little quiet chat with your pal and amigo, richard ford. footnotes: [ ] _the letters of richard ford, - _, edited by rowland e. prothero, m. v. o. john murray, . [ ] dear friend,--i was glad to hear from you of the successful termination of your literary work. fancy those rogues of zincali! they have managed to make good money--i always thought messrs. m. very decent people, it usually happens that those who have much to do with good class of people become themselves somewhat large-minded and liberal. you must admit that i am a model critic, and that i cry, 'luck to the books' full well do i know how you thank the most noble and illustrious public! go ahead, therefore, and leave nothing forgotten in the ink-pot; but by all that is holy, shun the spanish historians, who are liars and fools! i regret very much that you should have left london; i leave here on saturday with the intention of paying a visit of about three weeks to the maternal home, as is my custom in the month of the christmas boxes. very much would i have liked to see you and discuss with you about things of spain and other gypsy lore and fancy topics, but of which at present nothing do i understand. i shall not fail to take with me the papers and documents which you kindly sent me to cheltenham. i will make them into a parcel and leave them with messrs. murray, so that you can send for them whenever you like. i shall do my best to penetrate those mysteries and that strange people. mr. murray, junior, writes in a pleased tone respecting _the bible in spain_. i should like to write an article on a subject so full of interest. possibly my article on the gypsies will appear in the next number, and in such case it will prove more useful to you than if it appeared now. the life and memory of reviews are very short. they appear like butterflies, and die in a day. the dead and the departed have no friends. the living to the feast, the dead to the grave. no sooner does a new number appear than the last one is already forgotten and joins the things of the past. what do you think? at a party recently in which a drawing was held, i drew the _krallis de los zincali_. i beg to enclose the table (or index) for your majesty's guidance; really, i must have in my veins a few drops of the genuine wanderer. mr. gagargos has been just appointed spanish consul in tunis, where he will not lack means for progressing in the arabic language and literature.--yours, etc., r. f. [ ] _the times_, april , . chapter xxiv in eastern europe in borrow set out for the most distant holiday that he was ever to undertake. passing through london in march , he came under the critical eye of elizabeth rigby, afterwards lady eastlake, that formidable critic who four years later--in --wrote the cruel review of _jane eyre_ in _the quarterly_ that gave so much pain to charlotte brontë. she was not a nice woman. these sharp, 'clever' women-critics rarely are; and borrow never made a pleasant impression when such women came across his path--instance harriet martineau, frances cobbe, and agnes strickland. we should sympathise with him, and not count it for a limitation, as some of his biographers have done. the future lady eastlake thus disposes of borrow in her one reference to him: _march ._--borrow came in the evening; now a fine man, but a most disagreeable one; a kind of character that would be most dangerous in rebellious times--one that would suffer or persecute to the utmost. his face is expressive of strong-headed determination.[ ] quoting this description of borrow, dr. knapp describes it as 'shallow'--for 'he was one of the kindest of men, as my documents show.' the description is shallow enough, because the writer had no kind of comprehension of borrow, but then, perhaps, his champion had not. borrow was neither one of the 'kindest of men' nor the reverse. he was a good hater and a whole-hearted lover, and to be thus is to fill a certain uncomfortable but not discreditable place in the scheme of things. about a month later borrow was on the way to the east, travelling by paris and vienna. from paris he wrote to mr. john murray that vidocq 'wished much to have a copy of my _gypsies in spain_,' but suspects the frenchman of desiring to produce a compressed translation. will mr. murray have the book translated into french? he asks, and so circumvent his wily friend.[ ] in june he is in buda pesth, whence he wrote to his wife: to mrs. george borrow, oulton, lowestoft pesth, hungary, _ th june ._ my dearest carreta,--i was so glad to get your letter which reached me about nine days ago; on receiving it, i instantly made preparations for quitting vienna, but owing to two or three things which delayed me, i did not get away till the th; i hope that you received the last letter which i sent, as i doubt not that you are all anxious to hear from me. you cannot think how anxious i am to get back to you, but since i am already come so far, it will not do to return before my object is accomplished. heaven knows that i do not travel for travelling's sake, having a widely different object in view. i came from vienna here down the danube, but i daresay i shall not go farther by the river, but shall travel through the country to bucharest in wallachia, which is the next place i intend to visit; but hungary is a widely different country to austria, not at all civilised, no coaches, etc., but only carts and wagons; however, it is all the same thing to me as i am quite used to rough it; bucharest is about three hundred miles from here; the country, as i have said before, is wild, but the people are quite harmless--it is only in spain that any danger is to be feared from your fellow creatures. in bucharest i shall probably stay a fortnight. i have a letter to a french gentleman there from baron taylor. pesth is very much like edinburgh--there is an old and a new town, and it is only the latter which is called pesth, the name of the old is buda, which stands on the side of an enormous mountain overlooking the new town, the danube running between. the two towns together contain about , inhabitants; i delivered the letter which dear woodfall was kind enough to send; it was to a person, a scotchman, who is superintending in the building of the chain bridge over the danube; he is a very nice person, and has shown me every kind of civility; indeed, every person here is very civil; yesterday i dined at the house of a rich greek; the dinner was magnificent, the only drawback was that they pressed me too much to eat and drink; there was a deal of champagne, and they would make me drink it till i was almost sick, for it is a wine that i do not like, being far too sweet. since i have been here i have bathed twice in the danube, and find myself much the better for it; i both sleep and eat better than i did. i have also been about another chapter, and get on tolerably well; were i not so particular i should get on faster, but i wish that everything that i write in this next be first-rate. tell mama that this chapter begins with a dialogue between her and my father; i have likewise contrived to bring in the poor old dog in a manner which i think will be interesting. i began this letter some days ago, but have been so pleasantly occupied that i have made little progress till now. clarke, poor fellow, does not know how to make enough of me. he says he could scarcely believe his eyes when he first received the letter, as he has just got _the bible in spain_ from england, and was reading it. this is the th, and in a few days i start for a place called debreczen, from whence i shall proceed gradually on my journey. the next letter which you receive will probably be from transylvania, the one after that from bucharest, and the third d.v. from constantinople. if you like you may write to constantinople, directing it to the care of the english ambassador, but be sure to pay the postage. before i left vienna baron hammer, the great orientalist, called upon me; his wife was just dead, poor thing, which prevented him showing me all the civility which he would otherwise have done. he took me to the imperial library. both my books were there, _gypsies_ and _bible_. he likewise procured me a ticket to see the imperial treasure. (tell henrietta that i saw there the diamond of charles the bold; it is as large as a walnut.) i likewise saw the finest opal, as i suppose, in the world; it was the size of a middling pear; there was likewise a hyacinth as big as a swan's egg; i likewise saw a pearl so large that they had wrought the figure of a cock out of it, and the cock was somewhat more than an inch high, but the thing which struck me most was the sword of tamerlane, generally called timour the tartar; both the hilt and scabbard were richly adorned with diamonds and emeralds, but i thought more of the man than i did of them, for he was the greatest conqueror the world ever saw (i have spoken of him in _lavengro_ in the chapter about david haggart). nevertheless, although i have seen all these fine things, i shall be glad to get back to my carreta and my darling mother and to dear hen. from debreczen i hope to write to kind dear woodfall, and to lord from constantinople. i must likewise write to hasfeld. the mulet of thirty pounds upon russian passports is only intended for the subjects of russia. i see by the journals that the emperor has been in england; i wonder what he is come about; however, the less i say about that the better, as i shall soon be in his country. tell hen that i have got her a large piece of austrian gold money, worth about forty-two shillings; it is quite new and very handsome; considerably wider than the spanish ounce, only not near so thick, as might be expected, being of considerable less value; when i get to constantinople i will endeavour to get a turkish gold coin. i have also got a new austrian silver dollar and a half one; these are rather cumbersome, and i don't care much about them--as for the large gold coin, i carry it in my pocket-book, which has been of great use to me hitherto. i have not yet lost anything, only a pocket handkerchief or two as usual; but i was obliged to buy two other shirts at vienna; the weather is so hot, that it is quite necessary to change them every other day; they were beautiful linen ones, and i think you will like them when you see. i shall be so glad to get home and continue, if possible, my old occupation. i hope my next book will sell; one comfort is that nothing like it has ever been published before. i hope you all get on comfortably, and that you catch some fish. i hope my dear mother is well, and that she will continue with you till the end of july at least; ah! that is my month, i was born in it, it is the pleasantest month in the year; would to god that my fate had worn as pleasant an aspect as the month in which i was born. god bless you all. write to me, _to the care of the british embassy_, constantinople. kind remembrances to pilgrim. in the intervening journey between pesth and constantinople he must have talked long and wandered far and wide among the gypsies, for charles l. brace in his _hungary in _ gives us a glimpse of him at grosswardein holding conversation with the gypsies: they described his appearance--his tall, lank, muscular form--and mentioned that he had been much in spain, and i saw that it must be that most ubiquitous of travellers, mr. borrow. the four following letters require no comment: to mrs. george borrow, oulton, lowestoft debreczen, hungary, _ th july ._ my darling carreta,--i write to you from debreczen, a town in the heart of hungary, where i have been for the last fortnight with the exception of three days during which i was making a journey to tokay, which is about forty miles distant. my reason for staying here so long was my liking the place where i have experienced every kind of hospitality; almost all the people in these parts are protestants, and they are so fond of the very name of englishmen that when one arrives they scarcely know how to make enough of him; it is well the place is so remote that very few are ever seen here, perhaps not oftener than once in ten years, for if some of our scamps and swell mob were once to find their way there the good people of hungary would soon cease to have much respect for the english in general; as it is they think that they are all men of honour and accomplished gentlemen whom it becomes them to receive well in order that they may receive from them lessons in civilisation; i wonder what they would think if they were to meet such fellows as squarem and others whom i could mention. i find my knowledge of languages here of great use, and the people are astonished to hear me speak french, italian, german, russian, and occasionally gypsy. i have already met with several gypsies; those who live abroad in the wildernesses are quite black; the more civilised wander about as musicians, playing on the fiddle, at which they are very expert, they speak the same languages as those in england, with slight variations, and upon the whole they understand me very well. amongst other places i have been to tokay, where i drank some of the wine. i am endeavouring to bring two or three bottles to england, for i thought of my mother and yourself and hen., and i have got a little wooden case made; it is very sweet and of a pale straw colour; whether i shall be able to manage it i do not know; however, i shall make the attempt. at tokay the wine is only two shillings the bottle, and i have a great desire that you should taste some of it. i sincerely hope that we shall soon all meet together in health and peace. i shall be glad enough to get home, but since i am come so far it is as well to see as much as possible. would you think it, the bishop of debreczen came to see me the other day and escorted me about the town, followed by all the professors of the college; this was done merely because i was an englishman and a protestant, for here they are almost all of the reformed religion and full of love and enthusiasm for it. it is probable that you will hear from woodfall in a day or two; the day before yesterday i wrote to him and begged him to write to you to let you know, as i am fearful of a letter miscarrying and your being uneasy. this is unfortunately post day and i must send away the letter in a very little time, so that i cannot say all to you that i could wish; i shall stay here about a week longer, and from here shall make the best of my way to transylvania and bucharest; i shall stay at bucharest about a fortnight, and shall then dash off for constantinople--i shan't stay there long--but when once there it matters not as it is a civilised country from which start steamers to any part where you may want to go. i hope to receive a letter from you there. you cannot imagine what pleasure i felt when i got your last. oh, it was such a comfort to me! i shall have much to tell you when i get back. yesterday i went to see a poor wretch who is about to be hanged; he committed a murder here two years ago, and the day after to-morrow he is to be executed--they expose the people here who are to suffer three days previous to their execution--i found him in a small apartment guarded by soldiers, with hundreds of people staring at him through the door and the windows; i was admitted into the room as i went with two officers; he had an enormous chain about his waist and his feet were manacled; he sat smoking a pipe; he was, however, very penitent, and said that he deserved to die, as well he might; he had murdered four people, beating out their brains with a club; he was without work, and requested of an honest man here to receive him into his house one night until the morning. in the middle of the night he got up, and with his brother, who was with him, killed every person in the house and then plundered it; two days after, he was taken; his brother died in prison; i gave him a little money, and the gentleman who was with me gave him some good advice; he looked most like a wild beast, a huge mantle of skin covered his body; for nine months he had not seen the daylight; but now he is brought out into a nice clean apartment, and allowed to have everything he asks for, meat, wine, tobacco--nothing is refused him during these last three days. i cannot help thinking that it is a great cruelty to keep people so long in so horrid a situation; it is two years nearly since he has been condemned. do not be anxious if you do not hear from me regularly for some time. there is no escort post in the countries to which i am going. god bless my mother, yourself, and hen. g. b. to mrs. george borrow, oulton, lowestoft hermanstadt, _july , ._ my dearest carreta,--i write to you a line or two from this place; it is close upon the frontier of wallachia. i hope to be in bucharest in a few days--i have stopped here for a day owing to some difficulty in getting horses--i shall hasten onward as quick as possible. in bucharest there is an english consul, so that i shall feel more at home than i do here. i am only a few miles now from the termination of the austrian dominions, their extent is enormous, the whole length of hungary and transylvania; i shall only stay a few days in bucharest and shall then dash off straight for constantinople; i have no time to lose as there is a high ridge of mountains to cross called the balkans, where the winter commences at the beginning of september. i thought you would be glad to hear from me, on which account i write. i sent off a letter about a week ago from klausenburg, which i hope you will receive. i have written various times from hungary, though whether the letters have reached you is more than i can say. i wrote to woodfall from debreczen. i have often told you how glad i shall be to get home and see you again. if i have tarried, it has only been because i wished to see and learn as much as i could, for it was no use coming to such a distance for nothing. by the time i return i shall have made a most enormous journey, such as very few have made. the place from which i write is very romantic, being situated at the foot of a ridge of enormous mountains which extend to the clouds, they look higher than the pyrenees. my health, thank god, is very good. i bathed to-day and feel all the better for it; i hope you are getting on well, and that all our dear family is comfortable. i hope my dear mother is well. oh, it is so pleasant to hope that i am still not alone in the world, and that there are those who love and care for me and pray for me. i shall be very glad to get to constantinople, as from there there is no difficulty; and a great part of the way to russia is by sea, and when i am in russia i am almost at home. i shall write to you again from bucharest if it please god. it is not much more than eighty miles from here, but the way lies over the mountains, so that the journey will take three or four days. we travel here in tilted carts drawn by ponies; the carts are without springs, so that one is terribly shaken. it is, however, very healthy, especially when one has a strong constitution. the carts are chiefly made of sticks and wickerwork; they are, of course, very slight, and indeed if they were not so they would soon go to pieces owing to the jolting. i read your little book every morning; it is true that i am sometimes wrong with respect to the date, but i soon get right again; oh, i shall be so glad to see you and my mother and old hen. and lucy and the whole dear circle. i hope crups is well, and the horse. oh, i shall be so glad to come back. god bless you, my heart's darling, and dear hen.; kiss her for me, and my mother. george borrow. to mrs. george borrow, oulton, lowestoft bucharest, _august , ._ my dearest carreta,--i write you a few lines from the house of the consul, mr. colquhoun, to inform you that i arrived at bucharest quite safe: the post leaves to-day, and mr. c. has kindly permitted me to send a note along with the official despatches. i am quite well, thank god, but i thought you would like to hear from me. bucharest is in the province of wallachia and close upon the turkish frontier. i shall remain here a week or two as i find the place a very interesting one; then i shall proceed to constantinople. i wrote to you from hermanstadt last week and the week previous from clausenburgh, and before i leave i shall write again, and not so briefly as now. i have experienced every possible attention from mr. c., who is a very delightful person, and indeed everybody is very kind and attentive. i hope sincerely that you and hen. are quite well and happy, and also my dear mother. god bless you, dearest. george borrow. to mrs. george borrow, oulton, lowestoft bucharest, _august , ._ my darling carreta,--to-morrow or the next day i leave bucharest for constantinople. i wrote to you on my arrival a few days ago, and promise to write again before my departure. i shall not be sorry to get to constantinople, as from thence i can go where-ever i think proper without any difficulty. since i have been here, mr. colquhoun, the british consul-general, has shown me every civility, and upon the whole i have not passed the time disagreeably. i have been chiefly occupied of late in rubbing up my turkish a little, which i had almost forgotten; there was a time when i wrote it better than any other language. it is coming again rapidly, and i make no doubt that in a little time i should speak it almost as well as spanish, for i understand the groundwork. in hungary and germany i picked up some curious books, which will help to pass the time at home when i have nothing better to do. it is a long way from here to constantinople, and it is probable that i shall be fifteen or sixteen days on the journey, as i do not intend to travel very fast. it is possible that i shall stay a day or two at adrianople, which is half way. if you should not hear from me for some time don't be alarmed, as it is possible that i shall have no opportunities of writing till i get to constantinople. bucharest, where i am now, is close on the turkish frontier, being only half a day's journey. since i have been here, i have bought a tartar dress and a couple of turkish shirts. i have done so in order not to be stared at as i pass along. it is very beautiful and by no means dear. yesterday i wrote to m. since i have been here i have seen some english newspapers, and see that chap h. has got in with m. perhaps his recommendation was that he had once insulted us. however, god only knows. i think i had never much confidence in m. i can read countenances as you know, and have always believed him to be selfish and insincere. i, however, care nothing about him, and will not allow, d.v., any conduct of his to disturb me. i shall be glad to get home, and if i can but settle down a little, i feel that i can accomplish something great. i hope that my dear mother is well, and that you are all well. god bless you. it is something to think that since i have been away i have to a certain extent accomplished what i went about. i am stronger and better and hardier, my cough has left me, there is only occasionally a little huskiness in the throat. i have also increased my stock of languages, and my imagination is brightened, bucharest is a strange place with much grandeur and much filth. since i have been here i have dined almost every day with mr. c., who wants me to have an apartment in his house. i thought it, however, better to be at an inn, though filthy. i have also dined once at the russian consul-general's, whom i knew in russia. now god bless you my heart's darling; kiss also hen., write to my mother, and remember me to all friends. g. borrow. the best letter that i have of this journey, and indeed the best letter of borrow's that i have read, is one from constantinople to his wife--the only letter by him from that city: to mrs. george borrow, oulton, lowestoft constantinople, _th september ._ my darling carreta,--i am about to leave constantinople and to return home. i have given up the idea of going to russia; i find that if i go to odessa i shall have to remain in quarantine for fourteen days, which i have no inclination to do; i am, moreover, anxious to get home, being quite tired of wandering, and desirous of being once more with my loved ones. this is a most interesting place, but unfortunately it is extremely dear. the turks have no inns, and i am here at an english one, at which, though everything is comfortable, the prices are very high. to-day is monday, and next friday i purpose starting for salonica in a steamboat--salonica is in albania. i shall then cross albania, a journey of about three hundred miles, and get to corfu, from which i can either get to england across italy and down the rhine, or by way of marseilles and across france. i shall not make any stay in italy if i go there, as i have nothing to see there. i shall be so glad to be at home with you once again, and to see my dear mother and hen. tell hen. that i picked up for her in one of the bazaars a curious armenian coin; it is silver, small, but thick, with a most curious inscription upon it. i gave fifteen piastres for it. i hope it and the rest will get safe to england. i have bought a chest, which i intend to send by sea, and i have picked up a great many books and other things, and i wish to travel light; i shall, therefore, only take a bag with a few clothes and shirts. it is possible that i shall be at home soon after your receiving this, or at most three weeks after. i hope to write to you again from corfu, which is a british island with a british garrison in it, like gibraltar; the english newspapers came last week. i see those wretched french cannot let us alone, they want to go to war; well, let them; they richly deserve a good drubbing. the people here are very kind in their way, but home is home, especially such a one as mine, with true hearts to welcome me. oh, i was so glad to get your letters; they were rather of a distant date, it is true, but they quite revived me. i hope you are all well, and my dear mother. since i have been here i have written to mr. lord. i was glad to hear that he has written to hen. i hope lucy is well; pray remember me most kindly to her, and tell her that i hope to see her soon. i count so of getting into my summer-house again, and sitting down to write; i have arranged my book in my mind, and though it will take me a great deal of trouble to write it, i feel that when it is written it will be first-rate. my journey, with god's help, has done me a great deal of good. i am stronger than i was, and i can now sleep. i intend to draw on england for forty or fifty pounds; if i don't want the whole of it, it will be all the same. i have still some money left, but i have no wish to be stopped on my journey for want of it. i am sorry about what you told me respecting the railway, sorry that the old coach is driven off the road. i shall patronise it as little as possible, but stick to the old route and thurton george. what a number of poor people will these railroads deprive of their bread. i am grieved at what you say about poor m.; he can take her into custody, however, and oblige her to support the children; such is law, though the property may have been secured to her, she can be compelled to do that. tell hen. that there is a mosque here, called the mosque of sultan bajazet; it is full of sacred pigeons; there is a corner of the court to which the creatures flock to be fed, like bees, by hundreds and thousands; they are not at all afraid, as they are never killed. every place where they can roost is covered with them, their impudence is great; they sprang originally from two pigeons brought from asia by the emperor of constantinople. they are of a deep blue. god bless you, dearest. g. b. he returned home by way of venice and rome as the following two letters indicate: to mrs. george borrow, oulton, lowestoft venice, _ nd octr. ._ my dearest carreta,--i arrived this day at venice, and though i am exceedingly tired i hasten to write a line to inform you of my well-being. i am now making for home as fast as possible, and i have now nothing to detain me. since i wrote to you last i have been again in quarantine for two days and a half at trieste, but i am glad to say that i shall no longer be detained on that account. i was obliged to go to trieste, though it was much out of my way, otherwise i must have remained i know not how long in corfu, waiting for a direct conveyance. after my liberation i only stopped a day at corfu in order that i might lose no more time, though i really wished to tarry there a little longer, the people were so kind. on the day of my liberation, i had four invitations to dinner from the officers. i, however, made the most of my time, and escorted by one captain northcott, of the rifles, went over the fortifications, which are most magnificent. i saw everything that i well could, and shall never forget the kindness with which i was treated. the next day i went to trieste in a steamer, down the whole length of the adriatic. i was horribly unwell, for the adriatic is a bad sea, and very dangerous; the weather was also very rough; after stopping at trieste a day, besides the quarantine, i left for venice, and here i am, and hope to be on my route again the day after to-morrow. i shall now hurry through italy by way of ancona, rome, and civita vecchia to marseilles in france and from marseilles to london, in not more than six days' journey. oh, i shall be so glad to get back to you and my mother (i hope she is alive and well) and hen. i am glad to hear that we are not to have a war with those silly people, the french. the idea made me very uneasy, for i thought how near oulton lay to the coast. you cannot imagine what a magnificent old town venice is; it is clearly the finest in italy, although in decay; it stands upon islands in the sea, and in many places is intersected with canals. the grand canal is four miles long, lined with palaces on either side. i, however, shall be glad to leave it, for there is no place to me like oulton, where live two of my dear ones. i have told you that i am very tired, so that i cannot write much more, and i am presently going to bed, but i am sure that you will be glad to hear from me, however little i may write. i think i told you in my last letter that i had been to the top of mount olympus in thessaly. tell hen. that i saw a whole herd of wild deer bounding down the cliffs, the noise they made was like thunder; i also saw an enormous eagle--one of jupiter's birds, his real eagles, for, according to the grecian mythology, olympus was his favourite haunt. i don't know what it was then, but at present the most wild savage place i ever saw; an immense way up i came to a forest of pines; half of them were broken by thunderbolts, snapped in the middle, and the ruins lying around in the most hideous confusion; some had been blasted from top to bottom and stood naked, black, and charred, in indescribable horridness; jupiter was the god of thunder, and he still seems to haunt olympus. the worst is there is little water, so that a person might almost perish there of thirst; the snow-water, however, when it runs into the hollows is the most delicious beverage ever tasted--the snow, however, is very high up. my next letter, i hope, will be from marseilles, and i hope to be there in a very few days. now, god bless you, my dearest; write to my mother, and kiss hen., and remember me kindly to lucy and the atkinses. g. b. to mrs. george borrow, oulton, lowestoft rome, _ nov. ._ my dearest carreta,--my last letter was from ancona; the present is, as you see, from rome. from ancona i likewise wrote to woodfall requesting he would send a letter of credit for twelve or fifteen pounds, directing to the care of the british consul at marseilles. i hope you received your letter and that he received his, as by the time i get to marseilles i shall be in want of money by reason of the roundabout way i have been obliged to come. i am quite well, thank god, and hope to leave here in a day or two. it is close by the sea, and france is close by, but i am afraid i shall be obliged to wait some days at marseilles before i shall get the letter, as the post goes direct from no part of italy, though it is not more than six days' journey, or seven at most, from ancona to london. it was that wretched quarantine at corfu that has been the cause of all this delay, as it caused me to lose the passage by the steamer [original torn here] ancona, which forced me to go round by trieste and venice, five hundred miles out of my way, at a considerable expense. oh, i shall be so glad to get home. as i told you before, i am quite well; indeed, in better health than i have been for years, but it is very vexatious to be stopped in the manner i have been. god bless you, my darling. write to my mother and kiss her. g. borrow. footnotes: [ ] _journals and correspondence of lady eastlake_, edited by her nephew, charles eastlake smith, vol. i. p. . john murray, . [ ] _life of borrow_ by herbert jenkins, p. . chapter xxv _lavengro_ _the bible in spain_ bears on its title-page the date , although my copy makes it clear in borrow's handwriting that it was really ready for publication in the previous year. [illustration: [handwritten text] mary borrow with her husband's love. dec'r ] borrow's handwriting had changed its character somewhat when he inscribed to his wife a copy of his next book _lavengro_ in . [illustration: [handwritten text] mary borrow with her husband's love.] in the intervening eight or nine years he had travelled much--suffered much. during all these years he had been thinking about, talking about, his next book, making no secret of the fact that it was to be an autobiography. even before _the bible in spain_ was issued he had written to mr. john murray foreshadowing a book in which his father, william taylor, and others were to put in an appearance. in the 'advertisement' to _the romany rye_ he tells us that 'the principal part of _lavengro_ was written in the year ' , that the whole of it was completed before the termination of the year ' , and that it was in the hands of the publisher in the year ' .' as the idea grew in his mind, his friend, richard ford, gave him much sound advice: never mind nimminy-pimminy people thinking subjects _low_. things are low in manner of handling. draw nature in rags and poverty, yet draw her truly, and how picturesque! i hate your silver fork, kid glove, curly-haired school.[ ] and so in the following years, now to ford, now to murray, he traces his progress, while in he tells dawson turner that he is 'at present engaged in a kind of biography in the robinson crusoe style.'[ ] but in the same year he went to buda-pesth, venice, and constantinople. the first advertisement of the book appeared in _the quarterly review_ in july , when _lavengro, an autobiography_, was announced. later in the same year mr. murray advertised the book as _life, a drama_; and dr. knapp, who had in his collection the original proof-sheets of _lavengro_, reproduces the title-page of the book which then stood as _life, a drama_, and bore the date . borrow's procrastination in delivering the complete book worried john murray exceedingly. not unnaturally, for in he had offered the book at his annual sale dinner to the booksellers who had subscribed to it liberally. eighteen months later murray was still worrying borrow for the return of the proof-sheets of the third and last volume. not until january do we hear of it as _lavengro, an autobiography_, and under this title it was advertised in _the quarterly review_ for that month as 'nearly ready for publication.' in april we find woodfall, john murray's printer, writing letter after letter urging celerity, to which mrs. borrow replies, excusing the delay on account of her husband's indifferent health. they have been together in lodgings at yarmouth. 'he had many plunges into the briny ocean, which seemed to do him good.'[ ] murray continued to exhort, but the final chapter did not reach him. 'my sale is fixed for december th,' he writes in november, 'and if i cannot show the book then i must throw it up.' this threat had little effect, for on th december we find murray still coaxing his dilatory author, telling him with justice that there were passages in his book 'equal to defoe.' the very printer, mr. woodfall, joined in the chase. 'the public is quite prepared to devour your book,' he wrote, which was unhappily not the case. nor was ford a happier prophet, although a true friend when he wrote--'i am sure it will be _the_ book of the year when it is brought forth.'[ ] the activity of mrs. borrow in this matter of the publication of _lavengro_ is interesting. 'my husband ... is, i assure you, doing all he can as regards the completion of the book,' she writes to mr. murray in december , and in november of the following year murray writes to her to say that he is engraving phillips's portrait of borrow for the book. 'i think a cheering letter from you will do mr. borrow good,' she writes later. throughout the whole correspondence between publisher and printer we are impressed by mrs. borrow's keen interest in her husband's book, her anxiety that he should be humoured. sadly did borrow need to be humoured, for if he had cherished the illusion that his book would really be the 'book of the year' he was to suffer a cruel disillusion. scarcely any one wanted it. all the critics abused it. in _the athenæum_ it was bluntly pronounced a failure. 'the story of _lavengro_ will content no one,' said sir william stirling-maxwell in _fraser's magazine_. the book 'will add but little to mr. borrow's reputation,' said _blackwood_. the only real insight into the book's significance was provided by thomas gordon hake in a letter to _the new monthly review_, in which journal the editor, harrison ainsworth, had already pronounced a not very favourable opinion. '_lavengro's_ roots will strike deep into the soil of english letters,' wrote dr. hake, and he then pronounced a verdict now universally accepted. george henry lewes once happily remarked that he would make an appreciation of boswell's _life of johnson_ a test of friendship. many of us would be almost equally inclined to make such a test of borrow's _lavengro_. tennyson declared that an enthusiasm for milton's _lycidas_ was a touchstone of taste in poetry. may we not say that an enthusiasm for borrow's _lavengro_ is now a touchstone of taste in english prose literature? but the reception of _lavengro_ by the critics, and also by the public,[ ] may be said to have destroyed borrow's moral fibre. henceforth, it was a soured and disappointed man who went forth to meet the world. we hear much in the gossip of contemporaries of borrow's eccentricities, it may be of his rudeness and gruffness, in the last years of his life. only those who can realise the personality of a self-contained man, conscious, as all genius has ever been, of its achievement, and conscious also of the failure of the world to recognise, will understand--and will sympathise. borrow, as we have seen, took many years to write _lavengro_. 'i am writing the work,' he told dawson turner, 'in precisely the same manner as _the bible in spain_, viz., on blank sheets of old account-books, backs of letters,' etc., and he recalls mahomet writing the koran on mutton bones as an analogy to his own 'slovenliness of manuscript.'[ ] i have had plenty of opportunity of testing this slovenliness in the collection of manuscripts of portions of _lavengro_ that have come into my possession. these are written upon pieces of paper of all shapes and sizes, although at least a third of the book in borrow's very neat handwriting is contained in a leather notebook, of which i give examples of the title-page and opening leaf in facsimile. the title-page demonstrates the earliest form of borrow's conception. not only did he then contemplate an undisguised autobiography, but even described himself, as he frequently did in his conversation, as 'a norfolk man.' before the book was finished, however, he repudiated the autobiographical note, and by the time he sat down to write _the romany rye_ we find him fiercely denouncing his critics for coming to such a conclusion. 'the writer,' he declares, 'never said it was an autobiography; never authorised any person to say it was one.' which was doubtless true, in a measure. yet i find among my borrow papers the following letter from whitwell elwin, who, writing from booton rectory on st october , and addressing him as 'my dear mr. borrow,' said: [illustration: the original title-page of _lavengro_. _from the manuscript in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle.'_] i hoped to have been able to call upon you at yarmouth, but a heavy cold first, and now occupation, have interfered with my intentions. i daresay you have seen the mention made of your _lavengro_ in the article on haydon in the current number of _the quarterly review_, and i thought you might like to know that every syllable, both comment and extract, was inserted by the writer (a man little given to praise) of his own _accord_. murray sent him your book, and that was all. no addition or modification was made by myself, and it is therefore the unbiassed judgment of a _very critical_ reviewer. whenever you appear again before the public i shall endeavour to do ample justice to your past and present merits, and there is one point in which you could aid those who understand you and your books in bringing over general readers to your side. i was myself acquainted with many of the persons you have sketched in your _lavengro_, and i can testify to the extraordinary vividness and accuracy of the portraits. what i have seen, again, of yourself tells me that romantic adventures are your natural element, and i should _a priori_ expect that much of your history would be stranger than fiction. but you must remember that the bulk of readers have no personal acquaintance with you, or the characters you describe. the consequence is that they fancy there is an immensity of romance mixed up with the facts, and they are irritated by the inability to distinguish between them. i am confident, from all i have heard, that this was the source of the comparatively cold reception of _lavengro_. i should have partaken the feeling myself if i had not had the means of testing the fidelity of many portions of the book, from which i inferred the equal fidelity of the rest. i think you have the remedy in your own hands, viz., by giving the utmost possible matter-of-fact air to your sequel. i do not mean that you are to tame down the truth, but some ways of narrating a story make it seem more credible than others, and if you were so far to defer to the ignorance of the public they would enter into the full spirit of your rich and racy narrative. you naturally look at your life from your own point of view, and this in itself is the best; but when you publish a book you invite the reader to participate in the events of your career, and it is necessary then to look a little at things from _his_ point of view. as he has not your knowledge you must stoop to him. i throw this out for your consideration. my sole wish is that the public should have a right estimate of you, and surely you ought to do what is in your power to help them to it. i know you will excuse the liberty i take in offering this crude suggestion. take it for what it is worth, but anyhow.... [illustration: facsimile of the first page of _lavengro_. _from the manuscript in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle.'_] to this letter, as we learn from elwin's _life_, 'instead of roaring like a lion,' as elwin had expected, he returned quite a 'lamb-like note.' read by the light in which we all judge the book to-day, this estimate by elwin was about as fatuous as most contemporary criticisms of a masterpiece. which is only to say that it is rarely given to contemporary critics to judge accurately of the great work that comes to them amid a mass that is not great. that elwin, although not a good editor of pope, was a sound critic of the literature of a period anterior to his own is demonstrated by the admirable essays from his pen that have been reprinted with an excellent memoir of him by his son.[ ] in this memoir we have a capital glimpse of our hero: among the notables whom he had met was borrow, whose _lavengro_ and _romany rye_ he afterwards reviewed in under the title of 'roving life in england,' their interview was characteristic of both. borrow was just then very sore with his snarling critics, and on some one mentioning that elwin was a _quartering_ reviewer, he said, 'sir, i wish you a better employment.' then hastily changing the subject he called out, 'what party are _you_ in the church--tractarian, moderate, or evangelical? i am happy to say i am the old _high_.' 'i am happy to say i am _not_,' was elwin's emphatic reply. borrow boasted of his proficiency in the norfolk dialect, which he endeavoured to speak as broadly as possible. 'i told him,' said elwin, 'that he had not cultivated it with his usual success.' as the conversation proceeded it became less disputatious, and the two ended by becoming so cordial that they promised to visit each other. borrow fulfilled his promise in the following october, when he went to booton,[ ] and was 'full of anecdote and reminiscence,' and delighted the rectory children by singing them songs in the gypsy tongue. elwin during this visit urged him to try his hand at an article for the _review_. 'never,' he said; 'i have made a resolution never to have anything to do with such a blackguard trade.' while writing of whitwell elwin and his association with borrow, which was sometimes rather strained as we shall see when _the romany rye_ comes to be published, it is interesting to turn to elwin's final impression of borrow, as conveyed in a letter which the recipient[ ] has kindly placed at my disposal. it was written from booton rectory, and is dated th october : i used occasionally to meet borrow at the house of mr. murray, his publisher, and he once stayed with me here for two or three days about . he always seemed to me quite at ease 'among refined people,' and i should not have ascribed his dogmatic tone, when he adopted it, to his resentment at finding himself out of keeping with his society. a spirit of self-assertion was engrained in him, and it was supported by a combative temperament. as he was proud of his bodily prowess, and rather given to parade it, so he took the same view of an argument as of a battle with fists, and thought that manliness required him to be determined and unflinching. but this, in my experience of him, was not his ordinary manner, which was calm and companionable, without rudeness of any kind, unless some difference occurred to provoke his pugnacity. i have witnessed instances of his care to avoid wounding feelings needlessly. he never kept back his opinions which, on some points, were shallow and even absurd; and when his antagonist was as persistently positive as himself, he was apt to be over vehement in contradiction. i have heard mr. murray say that once in a dispute with dr. whewell at a dinner the language on both sides grew so fiery that mrs. whewell fainted. he told me that his composition cost him a vast amount of labour, that his first draughts were diffuse and crude, and that he wrote his productions several times before he had condensed and polished them to his mind. there is nothing choicer in the english language than some of his narratives, descriptions, and sketches of character, but in his best books he did not always prune sufficiently, and in his last work, _wild wales_, he seemed to me to have lost the faculty altogether. mr. murray long refused to publish it unless it was curtailed, and borrow, with his usual self-will and self-confidence, refused to retrench the trivialities. either he got his own way in the end, or he revised his manuscript to little purpose. probably most of what there was to tell of borrow has been related by himself. it is a disadvantage in _lavengro_ and _romany rye_ that we cannot with certainty separate fact from fiction, for he avowed in talk that, like goethe, he had assumed the right in the interests of his autobiographical narrative to embellish it in places; but the main outline, and larger part of the details, are the genuine record of what he had seen and done, and i can testify that some of his minor personages who were known to me in my boyhood are described with perfect accuracy. two letters by mr. elwin to borrow, from my borrow papers, both dated --two years after _lavengro_ was written,--may well have place here: to george borrow, esq. booton, norwich, _oct. , ._ my dear mr. borrow,--i shall be rejoiced to see you here, and i hope you will fasten a little luggage to the bow of your saddle, and spend as much time under my roof as you can spare. i am always at home. mrs. elwin is sure to be in the house or garden, and i, at the worst, not further off than the extreme boundary of my parish. pray come, and that quickly. your shortest road from norwich is through horsford, and from thence to the park wall of haverland hall, which you skirt. this will bring you out by a small wayside public house, well known in these parts, called 'the rat-catchers.' at this point you turn sharp to the left, and keep the straight road till you come to a church with a new red brick house adjoining, which is your journey's end. the conclusion of your note to me is so true in sentiment, and so admirable in expression, that i hope you will introduce it into your next work. i wish it had been said in the article on haydon. cannot you strew such criticisms through the sequel to _lavengro_? they would give additional charm and value to the work. believe me, very truly yours, w. elwin. you are of course aware that if _i_ had spoken of _lavengro_ in the _q.r._ i should have said much more, but as i hoped for my turn hereafter, i preferred to let the passage go forth unadulterated. to george borrow, esq. booton rectory, norwich, _nov. , ._ my dear mr. borrow,---you bore your mishap with a philosophic patience, and started with an energy which gives the best earnest that you would arrive safe and sound at norwich. i was happy to find yesterday morning, by the arrival of your kind present, a sure notification that you were well home. many thanks for the tea, which we drink with great zest and diligence. my legs are not as long as yours, nor my breath either. you soon made me feel that i must either turn back or be left behind, so i chose the former. mrs. elwin and my children desire their kind regards. they one and all enjoyed your visit. believe me, very truly yours, w. elwin. i have said that i possess large portions of _lavengro_ in manuscript. borrow's always helpful wife, however, copied out the whole manuscript for the publishers, and this 'clean copy' came to dr. knapp, who found even here a few pages of very valuable writing deleted, and these he has very rightly restored in mr. murray's edition of _lavengro_. why borrow took so much pains to explain that his wife had copied _lavengro_, as the following document implies, i cannot think. i find in his handwriting this scrap of paper signed by mary borrow, and witnessed by her daughter: _janry. , ._ this is to certify that i transcribed _the bible in spain_, _lavengro_, and some other works of my husband george borrow, from the original manuscripts. a considerable portion of the transcript of _lavengro_ was lost at the printing-office where the work was printed. mary borrow. witness: henrietta m., daughter of mary borrow. it only remains here to state the melancholy fact once again that _lavengro_, great work of literature as it is now universally acknowledged to be, was not 'the book of the year.' the three thousand copies of the first issue took more than twenty years to sell, and it was not until that mr. murray resolved to issue a cheaper edition. the time was not ripe for the cult of the open road; the zest for 'the wind on the heath' that our age shares so keenly. footnotes: [ ] knapp's _life_, vol. ii p. . [ ] _ibid._ p. . [ ] knapp's _life_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] ford was right, however, if authors wrote only for posterity, although was not a very important year among the great victorian writers. it produced carlyle's _john sterling_, ruskin's _stones of venice_, and kingsley's _yeast_. [ ] mr. murray published _lavengro_ in an edition of copies in , a second edition (incorrectly called the third) was not asked for until . [ ] jenkins's _life_, p. . [ ] _some xviii. century men of letters: biographical essays_, by the rev. whitwell elwin, sometime editor of _the quarterly review_, with a memoir by his son warwick elwin, vols. john murray, . [ ] whitwell elwin was rector of booton, norfolk--a family living--from to his death, aged , on st january . he succeeded lockhart as editor of _the quarterly review_ in , and resigned in . he was born in , and educated at caius college, cambridge. thackeray called him 'a grandson of the late rev. dr. primrose,' thereby recognising in elwin many of the kindly qualities of goldsmith's admirable creation. [ ] mr. james hooper, of norwich, whose kindness in placing this and many other documents at my disposal i have already acknowledged. this letter was first published in _the sphere_, december , . chapter xxvi a visit to cornish kinsmen if borrow had been a normal man of letters he would have been quite satisfied to settle down at oulton, in a comfortable home, with a devoted wife. the question of money was no longer to worry him. he had moreover a money-making gift, which made him independent in a measure of his wife's fortune. from _the bible in spain_ he must have drawn a very considerable amount, considerable, that is, for a man whose habits were always somewhat penurious. _the bible in spain_ would have been followed up, were borrow a quite other kind of man, by a succession of books almost equally remunerative. even for one so prone to hate both books and bookmen there was always the wind on the heath, the gypsy encampment, the now famous 'broad,' not then the haunt of innumerable trippers. but borrow ever loved wandering more than writing. almost immediately after his marriage--in --he hinted to the bible society of a journey to china; a year later, in june , he suggested to lord clarendon that lord palmerston might give him a consulship: he consulted hasfeld as to a possible livelihood in berlin, and ford as to travel in africa. he seems to have endured residence at oulton with difficulty during the succeeding three years, and in we find him engaged upon the continental travel that we have already recorded. in he had hopes of the consulship at canton, but bowring wanted it for himself, and a misunderstanding over this led to an inevitable break of old friendship. borrow's passionate love of travel was never more to be gratified at the expense of others. he tried hard, indeed, to secure a journey to the east from the british museum trustees, and then gave up the struggle. further wanderings, which were many, were to be confined to europe and indeed to england, scotland, ireland, and the isle of man. his first journey, however, was not at his own initiative. mrs. borrow's health was unequal to the severe winters at oulton, and so the borrows made their home at yarmouth from to . during these years he gave his vagabond propensities full play. no year passed without its record of wandering. his first expedition was the outcome of a burst of notoriety that seems to have done for borrow what the success of his _bible in spain_ could not do--revealed his identity to his cornish relations. the _bury post_ of th september recorded that borrow had at the risk of his life saved at least one member of a boat's crew wrecked on the coast at yarmouth: the moment was an awful one, when george borrow, the well-known author of _lavengro_ and _the bible in spain_, dashed into the surf and saved one life, and through his instrumentality the others were saved. we ourselves have known this brave and gifted man for years, and, daring as was his deed, we have known him more than once to risk his life for others. we are happy to add that he has sustained no material injury. i was quite sorry to find this extract from the _bury post_ among my borrow papers in mrs. borrow's handwriting. it a little suggests that she sent the copy to the journal in question, or at least inspired the paragraph, perhaps in a letter to her friend, dr. gordon hake, who with his family then resided at bury st. edmunds. borrow was a perfect swimmer, and there is no reason to suppose but that he did act heroically.[ ] in my borrow papers i find in his handwriting his own account of the adventure: i was seated on yarmouth jetty; the weather was very stormy; there came a tremendous sea, which struck the jetty, and made it quiver; there was a boat on the lee-side of the jetty fastened by a painter; the surge snapped the painter like a thread, the boat was overset with two men in it, there was a cry, 'the men must be drowned.' i started up from my seat on the north side of the jetty, and saw the boat bottom upwards, and i heard some people say, 'the men are under it.' i ran a little way along the jetty, and then jumped upon the sand; before taking the leap i saw a man flung by the surge upon the shore; he crawled up upon the beach, and was, i believe, lifted up upon his legs by certain beachmen. i had my eye upon the boat, which was now near the shore; i had an idea that there was a man under it; i flung off my coat and hat, and went a little way into the sea, about parallel to some beachmen who were moving backwards and forwards as the waves advanced and receded. i now saw a man as a wave recoiled lying close by the boat in the reflux. i dashed forward and made a grip at the man, then came a tremendous wave which tumbled me heels over head; being an expert diver i did not attempt to rise, lest i should be flung on shore. when the wave receded, i found myself near the boat; the man was now nearer to the shore than myself. i believe a man or two were making towards him; another wave came which overwhelmed me, and flung me on the shore, to which i was now making with all my strength. i got on my legs for one moment, when the advanced guard, if i may call it so, of another wave, struck me on the back, and laid me upon my face, but i was now quite out of danger. a man now came and lifted me up, as others lifted up the other man, who seemed quite unable to exert himself. the above is a plain statement of facts. i was the only person, with the exception of the man in distress, who was in the deep water, or who confronted the billows, which were indeed monstrous, but which i cared little for, being, as i said before, an expert diver. had i been alone the result of the affair would have been much the same; as it is, after the last wave i could easily have dragged the man up upon the beach. i am willing to give to the beachmen whatever credit is due to them; i am anxious to believe that one of them was once up to his middle in water, but truth compels me to state that i never saw one of them up to his knees. i received very uncivil language from one of them, but every species of respect and sympathy from the genteel part of the spectators. a gentleman, i believe from norwich, and a policeman, attended me in a cab to my lodgings, where they undressed and dressed me. the kindness of these two individuals i shall never forget. in any case this adventure had exceptional publicity. for example mr. robert cooke of john murray's firm wrote to mrs. borrow on th october to say that while travelling abroad he had read in _galignani's messenger_ an account of his friend lavengro's 'daring and heroic act in rescuing so many from a watery grave.' 'i wish they had all been critics,' he adds; 'he would have done just the same, and they might perhaps have shown their gratitude when they got among his inky waves of literature.' more than this, the paragraph in the bury st. edmunds newspaper was copied into the _plymouth mail_, and was there read by the borrows of cornwall, who had heard nothing of their relative, thomas borrow, the army captain and his family, for fifty years or more. one of borrow's cousins by marriage, robert taylor of penquite, invited him to his father's homeland, and borrow accepted, glad, we may be sure, of any excuse for a renewal of his wanderings. and so on the rd of december borrow made his way from yarmouth to plymouth by rail, and thence walked twenty miles to liskeard, where quite a little party of borrow's cousins were present to greet him. the borrow family consisted of henry borrow of looe doun, the father of mrs. taylor, william borrow of trethinnick, thomas nicholas and elizabeth borrow, all first cousins, except anne taylor. anne, talking to a friend, describes borrow on this visit better than any one else has done: a fine tall man of about six feet three; well-proportioned and not stout; able to walk five miles an hour successively; rather florid face without any hirsute appendages; hair white and soft; eyes and eyebrows dark; good nose and very nice mouth; well-shaped hands;--altogether a person you would notice in a crowd.[ ] dr. knapp possessed two 'notebooks' of this cornish tour. borrow stayed at penquite with his cousins from th december to th january, then he went on a walking tour to land's end, through truro and penzance; he was back at penquite from th january to st february, and then took a week's tramp to tintagel, king arthur's castle, and pentire. naturally he made inquiries into the language, already extinct, but spoken within the memory of the older inhabitants. 'my relations are most excellent people,' he wrote to his wife from london on his way back, 'but i could not understand more than half of what they said.' i have only one letter to mrs. borrow written during this tour: to mrs. george borrow penquite, _ th janry. ._ my dear carreta,--i just write you a line to inform you that i have got back safe here from the land's end. i have received your two letters, and hope you received mine from the land's end. it is probable that i shall yet visit one or two places before i leave cornwall. i am very much pleased with the country. when you receive this if you please to write a line _by return of post_ i think you may; the trethinnick people wish me to stay with them for a day or two. when you see the cobbs pray remember me to them; i am sorry horace has lost his aunt, he will _miss her_. love to hen. ever yours, dearest, g. borrow. (keep this.) one of borrow's biographers, mr. walling, has given us the best account of that journey through cornwall,[ ] and his explanation of why borrow did not write the cornish book that he caused to be advertised in a fly-leaf of _the romany rye_, by the discouragement arising out of the dire failure of that book, may be accepted.[ ] borrow would have made a beautiful book upon cornwall. even the title, _penquite and pentyre; or, the head of the forest and the headland_, has music in it. and he had in these twenty weeks made himself wonderfully well acquainted not only with the topography of the principality, but with its folklore and legend. the gulf that ever separated the borrow of the notebook and of the unprepared letter from the borrow of the finished manuscript was extraordinary, and we may deplore with mr. walling the absence of this among borrow's many unwritten books. borrow was back in yarmouth at the end of february --he had not fled the country as dalrymple had suggested--but in july he was off again for his great tour in wales, in which he was accompanied by his wife and daughter. of that tour we must treat in another and later chapter, for _wild wales_ was not published until . the year following his great tour in wales he went on a trip to the isle of man. footnotes: [ ] it is thus that an old schoolfellow, dalrymple, describes the episode in a fragment of manuscript in the possession of mrs. james stuart of carrow abbey, from which i have already quoted: 'in / / borrow lived at yarmouth; he here made rather a ludicrous exhibition of himself on the occasion of a wreck, when he ran into the sea through a full tide up to his knees, with the utmost apparent heroism, and retreated again as soon as he thought it might be dangerous. he incurred so much ridicule that he abruptly quitted the town, and i have not heard since of him.' [ ] knapp's _life_, vol. ii. p. . letter from mrs. robert taylor to mrs. wilkey. [ ] _george borrow, the man and his work_. by r. a. j. walling. cassell, . [ ] it is not generally known that not less than eleven books by borrow were advertised in the first edition of _the romany rye_ in , of which only two were published in his lifetime: . _celtic bards, chiefs, and kings._ volumes. . _wild wales: its people, language, and scenery._ volumes. . _songs of europe, or metrical translations from all the european languages._ volumes. . _kæmpe viser. songs about giants and heroes._ volumes. . _the turkish jester._ volume. . _penquite and pentyre; or, the head of the forest and the headland. a book on cornwall._ volumes. . _russian popular tales._ volume. . _the sleeping bard._ volume. . _norman skalds, kings, and earls._ volumes. . _the death of balder._ volume. . _bayr jairgey and glion doo. wanderings in search of manx literature._ volume. of these _the sleeping bard_ appeared in and _wild wales_ in ; and after borrow's death _the turkish jester_ in and _the death of balder_ in . the remaining seven books have not yet been published. their manuscript is partly in the knapp collection now in the hispanic society's possession, partly in my collection, while certain fragments and the manuscript of _romano lavo-lil_ are in the possession of well-known borrow enthusiasts. chapter xxvii in the isle of man the holiday which borrow gave himself the year following his visit to wales, that is to say, in september , is recorded in his unpublished diaries. he never wrote a book as the outcome of that journey, although he caused one to be advertised under the title of _bayr jairgey and glion doo: wanderings in search of manx literature_.[ ] dr. knapp possessed two volumes of these notebooks closely written in pencil. these he reproduced conscientiously in his _life_, and indeed here we have the most satisfactory portion of his book, for the journal is transcribed with but little modification, and so we have some thirty pages of genuine 'borrow' that are really very attractive reading. borrow, it will be remembered, learnt the irish language as a mere child, much to his father's disgust. although he never loved the irish people, the celtic irish, that is to say, whose genial temperament was so opposed to his own, he did love the irish language, which he more than once declared had incited him to become a student of many tongues. he never made the mistake into which two of his biographers have fallen of calling it 'erse.' he was never an accurate student of the irish language, but among englishmen he led the way in the present-day interest in that tongue--an interest which is now so pronounced among scholars of many nationalities, and has made in ireland so definite a revival of a language that for a time seemed to be on the way to extinction. two translations from the irish are to be found in his _targum_ published so far back as , and many other translations from the irish poets were among the unpublished manuscripts that he left behind him. it would therefore be with peculiar interest that he would visit the isle of man which, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, was an irish-speaking land, but in was at a stage when the language was falling fast into decay. what survived of it was still irish with trifling variations in the spelling of words. 'cranu,' a tree, for example, had become 'cwan,' and so on--although the pronunciation was apparently much the same. when the tall, white-haired englishman talked to the older inhabitants who knew something of the language they were delighted. 'mercy upon us,' said one old woman, 'i believe, sir, you are of the old manx!' borrow was actually wandering in search of manx literature, as the title of the book that he announced implied. he inquired about the old songs of the island, and of everything that survived of its earlier language. altogether borrow must have had a good time in thus following his favourite pursuit. but dr. knapp's two notebooks, which are so largely taken up with these philological matters, are less human than a similar notebook that has fallen into my hands. this is a long leather pocket-book, in which, under the title of 'expedition to the isle of man,' we have, written in pencil, a quite vivacious account of his adventures. it records that borrow and his wife and daughter set out through bury to peterborough, rugby, and liverpool. it tells of the admiration with which peterborough's 'noble cathedral' inspired him. liverpool he calls a 'london in miniature': strolled about town with my wife and henrietta; wonderful docks and quays, where all the ships of the world seemed to be gathered--all the commerce of the world to be carried on; st. george's crescent; noble shops; strange people walking about, an herculean mulatto, for example; the old china shop; cups with chinese characters upon them; an horrible old irishwoman with naked feet; assize hall a noble edifice. the party left liverpool on th august, and borrow, when in sight of the isle of man, noticed a lofty ridge of mountains rising to the clouds: entered into conversation with two of the crew--manx sailors--about the manx language; one, a very tall man, said he knew only a very little of it as he was born on the coast, but that his companion, who came from the interior, knew it well; said it was a mere gibberish. this i denied, and said it was an ancient language, and that it was like the irish; his companion, a shorter man, in shirt sleeves, with a sharp, eager countenance, now opened his mouth and said i was right, and said that i was the only gentleman whom he had ever heard ask questions about the manx language. i spoke several irish words which they understood. when he had landed he continued his investigations, asking every peasant he met the manx for this or that english word: 'are you manx?' said i. 'yes,' he replied, 'i am manx.' 'and what do you call a river in manx?' 'a river,' he replied. 'can you speak manx?' i demanded. 'yes,' he replied, 'i speak manx.' 'and you call a river a river?' 'yes,' said he, 'i do.' 'you don't call it owen?' said i. 'i do not,' said he. i passed on, and on the other side of the bridge went for some time along an avenue of trees, passing by a stone water-mill, till i came to a public-house on the left hand. seeing a woman looking out of the window, i asked her to what place the road led. 'to castletown,' she replied. 'and what do you call the river in manx?' said i. 'we call it an owen,' said she. 'so i thought,' i replied, and after a little further discourse returned, as the night was now coming fast on. one man whom borrow asked if there were any poets in man replied that he did not believe there were, that the last manx poet had died some time ago at kirk conoshine, and this man had translated parnell's _hermit_ beautifully, and the translation had been printed. he inquired about the runic stones, which he continually transcribed. under date thursday, th august, we find the following: this day year i ascended snowdon, and this morning, which is very fine, i propose to start on an expedition to castletown and to return by peel. very gladly would i follow borrow more in detail through this interesting holiday by means of his diary,[ ] but it would make my book too long. as he had his wife and daughter with him there are no letters by him from the island. but wherever borrow went he met people who were interested in him, and so i find the following letter among his papers, which he received a year after his return: to george borrow, esq. albert terrace, douglas, _ february ._ my dear sir,--if experience on report has made you acquainted with the nature of true celtic indolence and procrastination you will be prepared to learn, without surprise, that your runic stone still remains unerected.[ ] in vain have i called time after time upon the clerk of braddan--in vain have i expostulated. nothing could i get but fair words and fair promises. first he was very rheumatic, having, according to his own account, contracted his dolorous aches in the course of that five-hours' job under your superintendence in the steeple, where, it seems, a merciless wind is in the habit of disporting itself. then the weather was so unfavourable, then his wife was ailing, etc., etc. on saturday, however, armed with your potent note, i made another attack, and obtained a promise that the stone should be in its right place on that day of the week following. so i await the result. my own private impression is that if we see the achievement complete by easter there will be much cause for thankfulness. many thanks for _the illustrated news_; i read the article with great interest, and subsequently studied the stone itself as well as its awkward position in its nook in the steeple would allow me. your secret, i need hardly say, was faithfully kept till the receipt of the news assured me that it need be a secret no longer. i may just mention that the clerk thinks that the sovereign you left will be quite enough to defray the expenses. i think so too; at least if there be anything more it cannot be worth mentioning. though no manxman myself still i shall take the liberty of thanking you in the name of mona--may i not add in the name of antiquarian science too--for your liberality in this matter. mrs. borrow, i trust, is convalescent by this time, and miss clarke well. with our united kind regards, believe me, my dear sir, very sincerely yours, s. w. wanton. and even three years later we find that borrow has not forgotten the friends of that manx holiday. this letter is from the vicar of malew in acknowledgment of a copy of _the romany rye_ published in the interval: to george borrow, esq. malew vicarage, ballasalla, isle of man, _ jany. ._ my dear sir,--i return you my most hearty thanks for your most handsome present of _romany rye_, and no less handsome letter relative to your tour in the isle of man and the literature of the manx. both i value very highly, and from both i shall derive useful hints for my introduction to the new edition of the _manx grammar_. i hope you will have no objection to my quoting a passage or two from the advertisement of your forthcoming book; and if i receive no intimation of your dissent, i shall take it for granted that i have your kind permission. the whole notice is so apposite to my purpose, and would be so interesting to every manxman, that i would fain insert the whole bodily, did the author and the limits of an introduction permit. the _grammar_ will, i think, go to press in march next. it is to be published under the auspices of 'the manx society,' instituted last year 'for the publication of national documents of the isle of man.' as soon as it is printed i hope to beg the favour of your acceptance of a copy.--i am, my dear sir, your deeply obliged humble servant, william gill. the letter from mr. wanton directs us to the issue of _the illustrated london news_ for th december , where we find the following note on the isle of man, obviously contributed to that journal by borrow, together with an illustration of the runic stone, which is also reproduced here: [illustration: runic stone from the isle of man] ancient runic stone, recently found in the isle of man for upwards of seventy years a stone which, as far as it could be discerned, had the appearance of what is called a danish cross, has been known to exist in the steeple of kirk braddan, isle of man. it was partly bedded in mortar and stones above the lintel of a doorway leading to a loft above the gallery. on the th of november it was removed from its place under the superintendence of an english gentleman who had been travelling about the island. it not only proved to be a northern cross, but a runic one; that is, it bore a runic inscription. as soon as the stone had been taken out of the wall, the gentleman in question copied the inscription and translated it, to the best of his ability, in the presence of the church clerk who had removed the stone. the runes were in beautiful preservation, and looked as fresh as if they had just come out of the workshop of orokoin gaut. unfortunately the upper part of the cross was partly broken, so that the original inscription was not entire. in the inscription, as it is, the concluding word is mutilated; in its original state it was probably 'sonr,' son; the runic character which answers to _s_ being distinct, and likewise the greater part of one which stands for _o_. yet there is reason for believing that sonr was not the concluding word of the original, but the penultimate, and that the original terminated with some norwegian name: we will suppose 'olf.' the writing at present on the stone is to this effect: otr. risti. kros. thunu. aft. fruka fathor. sin. in. thorwiaori. s ... (sonr olfs) otr raised this cross to fruki his father, the thorwiaori, so(n of olf). the names otr and fruki have never before been found on any of the runic stones in the isle of man. the words _in_ ... thorwiaori, which either denote the place where the individual to whom they relate lived, or one of his attributes or peculiarities, will perhaps fling some light on the words in ... aruthur, which appear on the beautiful cross which stands nearly opposite the door of kirk braddan. the present cross is curiously ornamented. the side which we here present to the public bears two monsters, perhaps intended to represent dragons, tied with a single cord, which passes round the neck and body of one whose head is slightly averted, whilst, though it passes round the body of the other, it leaves the neck free. little at present can be said about the other side of the stone, which is still in some degree covered with the very hard mortar in which it was found lying. the gentleman of whom we have already spoken, before leaving the island, made arrangements for placing the stone beside the other cross, which has long been considered one of the principal ornaments of the beautiful churchyard of braddan. footnotes: [ ] in vol. ii. of _the romany rye_, _vide supra_. [ ] the whole of this diary, which is the best original work that borrow left behind him unpublished, will be issued in my edition of _the collected works_. [ ] borrow found the stone had fallen, and he left money for its re-erection. he copied this stone on th september , noting in his diary that henrietta sketched the church while he copied and translated the inscription which ran as follows--_thorleifr nitki raised this cross to fiak, son of his brother's son_, the date being or a.d. chapter xxviii oulton broad and yarmouth george borrow wandered far and wide, but he always retraced his footsteps to east anglia, of which he was so justly proud. from his marriage in until his death in he lived twenty-seven years at oulton or at yarmouth. 'it is on sand alone that the sea strikes its true music,' borrow once remarked, 'norfolk sand'--and it was in the waves and on the sands of the norfolk coast that borrow spent the happiest hours of his restless life. oulton cottage is only about two miles from lowestoft, and so, walking or driving, these places were quite near one another. but both are in suffolk. was it because yarmouth--ten miles distant--is in norfolk that it was always selected for seaside residence? i suspect that the careful mrs. borrow found a wider selection of 'apartments' at a moderate price. in any case the sea air of yarmouth was good for his wife, and the sea bathing was good for him, and so we find that husband and wife had seven separate residences at yarmouth during the years of oulton life.[ ] but oulton was ever to be borrow's headquarters, even though between and he had a house in london. borrow was thirty-seven years of age when he settled down at oulton. [illustration: _copyright of mrs. simms reeve_ a hitherto unpublished portrait of george borrow taken in the garden of mrs. simms reeve of norwich in . this is the only photograph of george borrow extant, although two paintings of him exist, one by henry wyndham phillips, which forms the frontispiece of this volume, taken in , and an earlier portrait by his brother john, which will be found facing page ] he was, he tells us in _the romany rye_, 'in tolerably easy circumstances and willing to take some rest after a life of labour.' their home was a cottage on the broad, for the hall, which was also mrs. borrow's property, was let on lease to a farmer.[ ] the cottage, however, was an extremely pleasant residence with a lawn running down to the river. a more substantial house has been built on this site since borrow's day. the summer-house is generally assumed to be the same, but has certainly been reroofed since the time when henrietta clarke drew the picture of it that is reproduced in this book. probably the whole summer-house is new, but at any rate the present structure stands on the site of the old one. here borrow did his work, wrote and wrote and wrote, until he had, as he said, 'mountains of manuscripts.' here first of all he completed _the zincali_ ( ), commenced in seville; then he wrote or rather arranged _the bible in spain_ ( ), and then at long intervals, diversified by extensive travel holidays, he wrote _lavengro_ ( ), _the romany rye_ ( ), and _wild wales_ ( ),--these are the five books and their dates that we most associate with borrow's sojourn at oulton. when _wild wales_ was published he had removed to london. borrow brought with him to oulton, as we have said, a beautiful arabian horse, sidi habismilk, and a jewish servant, hayim ben attar. the horse remained to delight the neighbourhood. it followed borrow like a dog when he was not riding it. the jew had soon had enough of this rural retreat and sighed for a sunnier clime. thus, under date , i find among my borrow papers the following letter to a firm of shipbrokers: to messrs. nickols and marshal, london. _ th july ._ gentlemen,--having received a communication from liverpool from harry palmer, esq., stating that you are his agents in london, and that as such he has requested you to communicate with us relative to a passage required for a man sent to cadiz or gibraltar, i shall as briefly as possible state the particulars. mr. palmer names £ or £ as the lowest which he thinks it will cost us to get him to gibraltar or cadiz. this we consider is a large sum when it is to be remembered that he is to fare as the ship's crew fare, and with the exception of a berth to lie down in, no difference is required at this beautiful season of the year. i must here state as an excuse for the above remark that this man came to england at his own particular desire. i have been at much expense about him. he has had good wages, but now that he wants to get back to his own country the whole expense is thrown upon me, as he has saved no money, and we wish it to be clearly understood by the captain who will take him that when he is once off from england and his passage paid that we will be responsible for no further expense whatever. we do not want to get him to tangier, as we shall put money in his pocket which will enable him to pay for a passage across if he wishes to go there, but we will pay only to gibraltar or cadiz. a steam vessel sails from yarmouth bridge every wednesday and friday. this will be the most direct and safe way to send him to london, and then trouble you to have him met at the steamer and conveyed to the ship at once in which he is to have his passage. all therefore that remains to be done is to trouble you to give us a few days' notice with time to get him up per yarmouth steamer. i beg to thank you for the willingness you expressed to mr. palmer to assist me in this affair by getting as cheap a passage as you can and seeing him on board and the passage _not_ paid till the ship sails. you no doubt can quite understand our anxious feelings upon the subject from your connection with shipping, and consequently knowing what foreigners generally are.--i am, sir, your obedient servant, g. h. borrow.[ ] then we have the following document with which his cautious master provided himself: a statement of hayim ben attar previous to his leaving england. i declare that it was my own wish to come to england with my master g. h. borrow, who offered to send me to my own country before he left spain. that i have regularly received the liberal wages he agreed to give me from the first of my coming to him. that i have been treated justly and kindly by him during my stay in england, and that i return to my country at my own wish and request, and at my master's expense. to this statement, which i declare to be true, i sign my name.--hayim ben attar. declared before me this of august . w. m. hammond, magistrate for great yarmouth. i find a letter among my papers which bears no name, and is probably a draft. it contains an interesting reference to hayim ben attar, and hence i give it here: sir,--i have the honour to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the th inst., which my friend, mr. murray, has just forwarded to me. i am afraid that you attribute to me powers and information which i am by no means conscious of possessing; i should feel disposed to entertain a much higher opinion of myself than i at present do could i for a moment conceive myself gifted with the talent of inducing any endeavour to dismiss from his mind a theory of the reasonableness of which appears to him obvious. nevertheless, as you do me the honour of asking my opinion with respect to the theory of gypsies being jews by origin, i hasten to answer to the following effect. i am not prepared to acknowledge the reasonableness of any theory which cannot be borne out by the slightest proof. against the theory may be offered the following arguments which i humbly consider to be unanswerable. the gypsies differ from the jews in feature and complexion--in whatever part of the world you find the gypsy you recognise him at once by his features which are virtually the same--the jew likewise has a peculiar countenance by which at once he may be distinguished as a jew, but which would certainly prevent the probability of his being considered as a scion of the gypsy stock--in proof of which assertion i can adduce the following remarkable instance. i have in my service a jew, a native of northern africa. last summer i took him with me to an encampment of romanies or gypsies near my home at oulton in suffolk. i introduced him to the chief, and said, are ye not dui patos (two brothers). the gypsy passed his hand over the jew's face and stared him in the eyes, then turning to me he answered--we are not two brothers, not two brothers--this man is no rom--i believe him to be a jew. now this gypsy has been in the habit of seeing german and english jews who must have been separated from their african brothers for a term of years--yet he recognised the jew of troy for what he was--a jew--and without hesitation declared that he was not a rom; the jews, therefore, and the gypsies have each their peculiar and distinctive features, which disprove the impossibility of their having been originally the same people.--your obedient servant, george borrow. i find also in this connection a letter from tangier addressed to 'mr. h. george borrow' under date nd november . it tells us that the worthy jew longs once again to see the 'dear face' of his master. since he left his service he has married and has two sons, but he is anxious to return to england if that same master will find him work. we can imagine that by this time borrow had had enough of hayim ben attar, and that his answer was not encouraging. but by far the best glimpses of borrow during these years of suffolk life are those contained in a letter contributed by his friend, elizabeth harvey, to _the eastern daily press_ of norwich over the initials 'e.h.':[ ] when i knew mr. borrow he lived in a lovely cottage whose garden sloped down to the edge of oulton broad. he had a wooden room built on the very margin of the water, where he had many strange old books in various languages. i remember he once put one before me, telling me to read it. 'oh, i can't,' i replied. he said, 'you ought, it's your own language.' it was an old saxon book. he used to spend a great deal of his time in this room writing, translating, and at times singing strange words in a stentorian voice, while passers-by on the lake would stop to listen with astonishment and curiosity to the singular sounds. he was feet inches, a splendid man, with handsome hands and feet. he wore neither whiskers, beard, nor moustache. his features were very handsome, but his eyes were peculiar, being round and rather small, but very piercing, and now and then fierce. he would sometimes sing one of his romany songs, shake his fist at me and look quite wild. then he would ask, 'aren't you afraid of me?' 'no, not at all,' i would say. then he would look just as gentle and kind, and say, 'god bless you, i would not hurt a hair of your head,' he was an expert swimmer, and used to go out bathing, and dive under water an immense time. on one occasion he was bathing with a friend, and after plunging in nothing was seen of him for some while. his friend began to be alarmed, when he heard borrow's voice a long way off exclaiming, 'there, if that had been written in one of my books they would have said it was a lie, wouldn't they?' he was very fond of animals, and the animals were fond of him. he would go for a walk with two dogs and a cat following him. the cat would go a quarter of a mile or so and then turn back home. he delighted to go for long walks and enter into conversation with any one he might meet on the road, and lead them into histories of their lives, belongings, and experiences. when they used some word peculiar to norfolk (or suffolk) countrymen he would say, 'why, that's a danish word.' by and by the man would use another peculiar expression, 'why, that's saxon'; a little later on another, 'why, that's french.' and he would add, 'why, what a wonderful man you are to speak so many languages.' one man got very angry, but mr. borrow was quite unconscious that he had given any offence. he spoke a great number of languages, and at the exhibition of , whither he went with his stepdaughter, he spoke to the different foreigners in their own language, until his daughter saw some of them whispering together and looking as if they thought he was 'uncanny,' and she became alarmed and drew him away. he, however, did not like to hear the english language adulterated with the introduction of foreign words. if his wife or friends used a foreign word in conversation, he would say, 'what's that, trying to come over me with strange languages.' i have gone for many a walk with him at oulton. he used to go on, singing to himself or quite silent, quite forgetting me until he came to a high hill, when he would turn round, seize my hand, and drag me up. then he would sit down and enjoy the prospect. he was a great lover of nature, and very fond of his trees. he quite fretted if, by some mischance, he lost one. he did not shoot or hunt. he rode his arab at times, but walking was his favourite exercise. he was subject to fits of nervous depression. at times also he suffered from sleeplessness, when he would get up and walk to norwich ( miles), and return the next night recovered. his fondness for the gypsies has been noticed. at oulton he used to allow them to encamp in his grounds, and he would visit them, with a friend or alone, talk to them in romany, and sing romany songs. he was very fond of ghost stories and believed in the supernatural. he was keenly sympathetic with any one who was in trouble or suffering. he was no man of business and very guileless, and led a very harmless, quiet life at oulton, spending his evenings at home with his wife and stepdaughter, generally reading all the evening. he was very hospitable in his own home, and detested meanness. he was moderate in eating and drinking, took very little breakfast, but ate a very great quantity at dinner, and then had only a draught of cold water before going to bed. he wrote much in praise of 'strong ale,' and was very fond of good ale, of whose virtue he had a great idea. once i was speaking of a lady who was attached to a gentleman, and he asked, 'well, did he make her an offer?' 'no,' i said. 'ah,' he exclaimed, 'if she had given him some good ale he would.' but although he talked so much about ale i never saw him take much. he was very temperate, and would eat what was set before him, often not thinking of what he was doing, and he never refused what was offered him. he took much pleasure in music, especially of a light and lively character. my sister would sing to him, and i played. one piece he seemed never to tire of hearing. it was a polka, 'the redowa,' i think, and when i had finished he used to say, 'play that again, e----.' he was very polite and gentlemanly in ladies' society, and we all liked him. it is refreshing to read this tribute, from which i have omitted nothing salient, because a very disagreeable borrow has somehow grown up into a tradition. i note in reading some of the reviews of dr. knapp's _life_ that he is charged, or half-charged, with suppressing facts, 'because they do not reflect credit upon the subject of his biography.' now, there were really no facts to suppress. borrow was at times a very irritable man, he was a very self-centred one. his egotism might even be pronounced amazing by those who had never met an author. but those of us who have, recognise that with very few exceptions they are all egotists, although some conceal it from the unobservant more deftly than others. let me recall mr. arthur christopher benson's verses on 'my poet.' he came; i met him face to face, and shrank amazed, dismayed; i saw no patient depth, no tender grace, no prophet of the eternal law. but weakness, fretting to be great, self-consciousness with sidelong eye, the impotence that dares not wait for honour, crying 'this is i.' the tyrant of a sullen hour, he frowned away our mild content; and insight only gave him power to see the slights that were not meant.[ ] many successful and unsuccessful authors, living and dead, are here described, and borrow was far from one of the worst. he was quarrelsome, and i rather like him for that. if he was a good hater he was also a very loyal friend, as we find miss elizabeth harvey and, in after years, mr. theodore watts-dunton testifying. moreover, borrow had a grievance of a kind that has not often befallen a man of his literary power. he had written a great book in _lavengro_, and the critics and the public refused to recognise that it was a great book. many authors of power have died young and unrecognised; but recognition has usually come to those men of genius who have lived into middle age. it did not come to borrow. he had therefore a right to be soured. this sourness found expression in many ways. borrow, most sound of churchmen, actually quarrelled with his vicar over the tempers of their respective dogs. both the vicar, the rev. edwin proctor denniss, and his parishioner wrote one another acrid letters. here is borrow's parting shot: circumstances over which mr. borrow has at present no control will occasionally bring him and his family under the same roof with mr. denniss; that roof, however, is the roof of the house of god, and the prayers of the church of england are wholesome from whatever mouth they may proceed.[ ] surely that is a kind of quarrel we have all had in our day, and we think ourselves none the less virtuous in consequence. then there was borrow's very natural ambition to be made a magistrate of suffolk. he tells mr. john murray in that he has caught a bad cold by getting up at night in pursuit of poachers and thieves. 'a terrible neighbourhood this,' he adds, 'not a magistrate dare do his duty.' and so in the next year he wrote again to the same correspondent: present my compliments to mr. gladstone, and tell him that the _bible in spain_ will have no objection to becoming one of the 'great unpaid.' mr. gladstone, although he had admired _the bible in spain_, and indeed had even suggested the modification of one of its sentences, did nothing. lockhart, lord clarendon, and others who were applied to were equally powerless or indifferent. borrow never got his magistracy. to-day no man of equal eminence in literature could possibly have failed of so slight an ambition. moreover, borrow wanted to be a j.p., not from mere snobbery as many might, but for a definite, practical object. i am afraid he would not have made a very good magistrate, and perhaps inquiry had made that clear to the authorities. lastly, there was borrow's quarrel with the railway which came through his estate. he had thoughts of removing to bury, where dr. hake lived, or to troston hall, once the home of the interesting capell lofft. but he was not to leave oulton. in intervals of holidays, journeys, and of sojourn in yarmouth it was to remain his home to the end. in his mother joined him at oulton. she had resided for thirty-three years at the willow lane cottage. she was now seventy-seven years of age. she lived-on near her son as a tenant of his tenant at oulton hall until her death nine years later, dying in in her eighty-seventh year. she lies buried in oulton churchyard, with a tomb thus inscribed: sacred to the memory of ann borrow, widow of captain thomas borrow. she died on the th of august , aged eighty-six years and seven months. she was a good wife and a good mother. during these years at oulton we have many glimpses of borrow. dr. jessopp, for example, has recorded in _the athenæum_[ ] newspaper his own hero-worship for the author of _lavengro_, whom he was never to meet. this enthusiasm for _lavengro_ was shared by certain of his norfolk friends of those days: among those friends were two who, i believe, are still alive, and who about the year set out, without telling me of their intention, on a pilgrimage to oulton to see george borrow in the flesh. in those days the journey was not an inconsiderable one; and though my friends must have known that i would have given my ears to be of the party, i suppose they kept their project to themselves for reasons of their own. two, they say, are company and three are none; two men could ride in a gig for sixty miles without much difficulty, and an odd man often spoils sport. at any rate, they left me out, and one day they came back full of malignant pride and joy and exultation, and they flourished their information before me with boastings and laughter at my ferocious jealousy; for they had seen, and talked with, and eaten and drunk with, and sat at the feet of the veritable george borrow, and had grasped his mighty hand. to me it was too provoking. but what had they to tell? they found him at oulton, living, as they affirmed, in a house which belonged to mrs. borrow and which her first husband had left her. the household consisted of himself, his wife, and his wife's daughter; and among his other amusements he employed himself in training some young horses to follow him about like dogs and come at the call of his whistle. as my two friends were talking with him borrow sounded his whistle in a paddock near the house, which, if i remember rightly, was surrounded by a low wall. immediately two beautiful horses came bounding over the fence and trotted up to their master. one put his nose into borrow's outstretched hand and the other kept snuffing at his pockets in expectation of the usual bribe for confidence and good behaviour. borrow could not but be flattered by the young cambridge men paying him the frank homage they offered, and he treated them with the robust and cordial hospitality characteristic of the man. one or two things they learnt which i do not feel at liberty to repeat. mr. arthur w. upcher of sheringham hall, cromer, also provided in _the athenæum_[ ] a quaint reminiscence of borrow in which he recalled that lavengro had called upon miss anna gurney. this lady had, assuredly with less guile, treated him much as frances cobbe would have done. she had taken down an arabic grammar, and put it into his hand, asking for explanation of some difficult point which he tried to decipher; but meanwhile she talked to him continuously. 'i could not,' said borrow, 'study the arabic grammar and listen to her at the same time, so i threw down the book and ran out of the room.' he soon after met mr. upcher, to whom he made an interesting revelation: he told us there were three personages in the world whom he had always a desire to see; two of these had slipped through his fingers, so he was determined to see the third. 'pray, mr. borrow, who were they?' he held up three fingers of his left hand and pointed them off with the forefinger of the right: the first daniel o'connell, the second lamplighter (the sire of phosphorus, lord berners's winner of the derby), the third, anna gurney. the first two were dead and he had not seen them; now he had come to see anna gurney, and this was the end of his visit. mr. william mackay, who now lives at oulton broad, where he has heard all the village gossip about borrow and his _ménage_, and we may hope has discounted it fully, furnishes me with the following impression of borrow, which is of a much later date than those i have just given: i met borrow in at the house of dr. gordon hake at coombe end, near the top of roehampton lane, wimbledon common. my recollection is of a tall, broad-shouldered old man, stooping a little, engaged in reading a small volume held close to his eyes. something yorkshire about his powerful build, but little tolerance or benevolence in his expression. a fine, strongly marked clean shaven face, but with no kindliness or sense of humour indicated in its lines. in loosely made broadcloth he gave the idea of a nonconformist minister--a unitarian, judging from the intellectuality betrayed in his countenance. to me he was always civil and, even, genial, for he did not know that i was a writing fellow. but to others casually met he seemed to be invariably and intolerably rude. he could not brook contradiction--particularly on religious topics. he was an earnest believer. but it was in the god of battles that he believed. and he would be delighted at any time to prove in a stand-up fight the honesty of his convictions. in the union of a deep religious fervour with an overwhelming love of fighting--sheer physical hand-to-hand fighting--he was an interesting study. in this curious blending of what appear to be opposite qualities he resembled general gordon, who, by the way, was a cousin of dr. gordon hake at whose place i met borrow. he was a splendid liar too. not in the ordinary domestic meaning of the word. but he lied largely, picturesquely, like baron munchausen. that is one of the reasons that he did not take to the literary persons whom he met at hake's. perhaps he was afraid that some of them would steal his thunder, or perhaps he had a contempt for their serious pose. but to those whom he did not suspect of literary leanings he lied delightfully. that fine boys' book, _the bible in spain_, is, i should say, chiefly lies. i have heard him reel off adventures as amazing as any in the spanish reminiscences, related as having happened on the very common which we were crossing. theodore watts, who first met borrow at hake's, appears to have got on all right with him. but then watts would get on with anybody. besides, the two men had a common topic in romany lore. but toward the literary man in general his attitude was pretty much that of carlyle. he was contemptuous towards those who followed his own trade. at one moment of the correspondence we obtain an interesting glimpse of a great man of science. mr. darwin sent the following inquiry through dr. hooker, afterwards sir joseph hooker, and it reached borrow through his friend thomas brightwell: is there any dog in spain closely like our english pointer, in _shape_ and size, and _habits_,--namely in pointing, backing, and not giving tongue. might i be permitted to quote mr. borrow's answer to the query? has the improved english pointer been introduced into spain? c. darwin. [illustration: facsimile of a communication from charles darwin to george borrow.] borrow took constant holidays during these oulton days. we have elsewhere noted his holidays in eastern europe, in the isle of man, in wales, and in cornwall. letters from other parts of england would be welcome, but i can only find two, and these are but scraps. both are addressed to his wife, each without date: to mrs. george borrow oxford, _feb. nd._ dear carreta,--i reached this place yesterday and hope to be home to-night (monday). i walked the whole way by kingston, hampton, sunbury (miss oriel's place), windsor, wallingford, etc., a good part of the way was by the thames. there has been much wet weather. oxford is a wonderful place. kiss hen., and god bless you! george borrow. to mrs. george borrow tunbridge wells, _tuesday evening._ dear carreta,--i have arrived here safe--it is a wonderful place, a small city of palaces amidst hills, rocks, and woods, and is full of fine people. please to carry up stairs and lock in the drawer the little paper sack of letters in the parlour; lock it up with the bank book and put this along with it--also be sure to keep the window of my room fastened and the door locked, and keep the key in your pocket. god bless you and hen. george borrow. one of the very last letters of borrow that i possess is to an unknown correspondent. it is from a rough 'draft' in his handwriting: oulton, lowestoft, _may ._ sir,--your letter of the eighth of march i only lately received, otherwise i should have answered it sooner. in it you mention chamberlayne's work, containing versions of the lord's prayer translated into a hundred languages, and ask whether i can explain why the one which purports to be a rendering into waldensian is evidently made in some dialect of the gaelic. to such explanation as i can afford you are welcome, though perhaps you will not deem it very satisfactory. i have been acquainted with chamberlayne's work for upwards of forty years. i first saw it at st. petersburg in , and the translation in question very soon caught my attention. i at first thought that it was an attempt at imposition, but i soon relinquished that idea. i remembered that helvetia was a great place for gaelic. i do not mean in the old time when the gael possessed the greater part of europe, but at a long subsequent period: switzerland was converted to christianity by irish monks, the most active and efficient of whom was gall. these people founded schools in which together with christianity the irish or gaelic language was taught. in process of time, though the religion flourished, the helveto gaelic died away, but many pieces in that tongue survived, some of which might still probably be found in the recesses of st. gall. the noble abbey is named after the venerable apostle of christianity in helvetia; so i deemed it very possible that the version in question might be one of the surviving fruits of irish missionary labour in helvetia, not but that i had my doubts, and still have, principally from observing that the language though certainly not modern does not exhibit any decided marks of high antiquity. it is much to be regretted that chamberlayne should have given the version to the world under a title so calculated to perplex and mislead as that which it bears, and without even stating how or where he obtained it. this, sir, is all i have to say on the very obscure subject about which you have done me the honour to consult me.--yours truly, george borrow. footnotes: [ ] they lived first at king street, then at two addresses unknown, then successively at , and camperdown terrace, their last address was trafalgar place. [ ] borrow's letters were frequently addressed to oulton hall, but he never lived here. oulton hall was the name given to the farm house which went with oulton hall farm. 'old inhabitants,' writes mr. william mackay of oulton broad to me, 'remember that seventy years ago it was occupied by skepper, who was succeeded by grimmer, who was succeeded by smith.' 'i can find no one,' continues mr. mackay, 'who recollects old mrs. borrow lodging at the farm house. but what more likely? and it was characteristic of borrow--don't you think?--that he should hold out "oulton hall" as an address to those who were not likely to visit him.' when mrs. borrow, senior, was persuaded to leave willow lane, norwich, for oulton, her son took lodgings for her at the 'hall,' and here she died. very commonplace farm houses in east anglia are frequently called 'halls,' to the great amazement of visitors from other counties, although there are some very noble ones, as, for example, kirkstead, swineshead, parham and dalling. [ ] this was in reply to a letter from mr. harry palmer which ran as follows:--'when in london on thursday i saw the captain and brothers of several vessels bound to gibraltar and cadiz, and the passage money required will be about £ . the _warblington_ will leave to-morrow, the latter part of next week, and should you decide upon sending your servant i have requested messrs. nickols and marshal to attend to any communication you may make to them, who will do their utmost to get him out at the least possible expense, and pay the passage money upon his leaving england, and make arrangements with the captain for his passage to tangier. as gibraltar would be as convenient as cadiz, have little doubt messrs. nickols and co. would be able to get him out for £ or £ . i have a vessel now loading in this port for barcelona, to which port (if you could send him to liverpool) should be happy to take him and then send him forward to his destination.' [ ] _the eastern daily press_, st october . the harveys were great friends of borrow, and he left one of them co-executor with mrs. macoubrey of his estate. miss harvey's impressions make an interesting contrast to those of miss frances power cobbe. i have to thank mr. a. cozens-hardy, the editor of _the eastern daily press_, for courteously furnishing me with copies of these letters, and for giving me permission to use them here. [ ] _the poems of a. c. benson_, p. : published by john lane, . [ ] dr. knapp's _life_, vol. ii, p. . [ ] _the athenæum_, july , . dr. jessopp's feeling for borrow was much more kindly then than when he supplied to the london _daily chronicle_ of th april an article which had better not have been written. [ ] letter to _the athenæum_, july , . chapter xxix in scotland and ireland borrow has himself given us--in _lavengro_--a picturesque record of his early experiences in scotland. it is passing strange that he published no account of his two visits to the north in maturer years. why did he not write _wild scotland_ as a companion volume to _wild wales_? he preserved in little leather pocket-books or leather-covered exercise-books copious notes of both tours. two of his notebooks came into the possession of the late dr. knapp, borrow's first biographer, and are thus described in his bibliography: _note book of a tour in scotland, the orkneys and shetland in oct. and dec. ._ large vol. leather. _note book of tours around belfast and the scottish borders from stranraer to berwick-upon-tweed in july and august ._ vol. leather. of these dr. knapp made use only to give the routes of borrow's journeys so far as he was able to interpret them. it may be that he was doubtful as to whether his purchase of the manuscript carried with it the copyright of its contents, as it assuredly did not; it may be that he quailed before the minute and almost undecipherable handwriting. but similar notebooks are in my possession, and there are, happily, in these days typists--you pay them by the hour, and it means an infinity of time and patience--who will copy the most minute and the most obscure documents. there are some of the notebooks of the scottish tour of before me, and what is of far more importance--borrow's letters to his wife while on this tour. borrow lost his mother in august , and this event was naturally a great blow to his heart. a week or two later he suffered a cruel blow to his pride also, nothing less than the return of the manuscript of his much-prized translation from the welsh of _the sleeping bard_--and this by his 'prince of publishers,' john murray. 'there is no money in it,' said the publisher, and he was doubtless right.[ ] the two disasters were of different character, but both unhinged him. he had already written _wild wales_, although it was not to be published for another four years. he had caused to be advertised--in --a book on cornwall, but it was never written in any definitive form, and now our author had lost heart, and the cornish book--_penquite and pentyre_--and the scots book never saw the light. in these autumn months of geniality and humour had parted from borrow; this his diary makes clear. he was ill. his wife urged a tour in scotland, and he prepared himself for a rough, simple journey, of a kind quite different from the one in wales. the north of scotland in the winter was scarcely to be thought of for his wife and stepdaughter henrietta. he tells us in one of these diaries that he walked 'several hundred miles in the highlands.' his wife and daughter were with him in wales, as every reader of _wild wales_ will recall, but the scots tour was meant to be a more formidable pilgrimage, and they went to great yarmouth instead. the first half of the tour--that of september--is dealt with in letters to his wife, the latter half is reflected in his diary. the letters show borrow's experiences in the earlier part of his journey, and from his diaries we learn that he was in oban on nd october, aberdeen on th november, inverness on the th, and thence he went to tain, dornoch, wick, john o'groat's, and to the island towns, stromness, kirkwall, and lerwick. he was in shetland on the st of december--altogether a bleak, cheerless journey, we may believe, even for so hardy a tramp as borrow, and the tone of the following extract from one of his rough notebooks in my possession may perhaps be explained by the circumstance. borrow is on the way to loch laggan and visits a desolate churchyard, coll harrie, to see the tomb of john macdonnel or ian lom: i was on a highland hill in an old popish burying-ground. i entered the ruined church, disturbed a rabbit crouching under an old tombstone--it ran into a hole, then came out running about like wild--quite frightened--made room for it to run out by the doorway, telling it i would not hurt it--went out again and examined the tombs.... would have examined much more but the wind and rain blew horribly, and i was afraid that my hat, if not my head, would be blown into the road over the hill. quitted the place of old highland popish devotion--descended the hill again with great difficulty--grass slippery and the ground here and there quaggy, resumed the road--village--went to the door of house looking down the valley--to ask its name--knock--people came out, a whole family, looking sullen and all savage. the stout, tall young man with the grey savage eyes--civil questions--half-savage answers--village's name achaluarach--the neighbourhood--all catholic--chiefly macdonnels; said the english, _my countrymen_, had taken the whole country--'but not without paying for it,' i replied--said i was soaking wet with a kind of sneer, but never asked me in. i said i cared not for wet. a savage, brutal papist and a hater of the english--the whole family with bad countenances--a tall woman in the background probably the mother of them all. bade him good-day, he made no answer and i went away. learnt that the river's name was spean. he passed through scotland in a disputative vein, which could not have made him a popular traveller. he tells a roman catholic of the macdonnel clan to read his bible and 'trust in christ, not in the virgin mary and graven images.' he went up to another man who accosted him with the remark that 'it is a soft day,' and said, 'you should not say a "soft" day, but a wet day.' even the spanish, for whom he had so much contempt and scorn when he returned from the peninsula, are 'in many things a wise people'--after his experiences of the scots. there is abundance of borrow's prejudice, intolerance, and charm in this fragment of a diary[ ]; but the extract i have given is of additional interest as showing how borrow wrote all his books. the notebooks that he wrote in spain and wales were made up of similar disjointed jottings. here is a note of more human character interspersed with borrow's diatribes upon the surliness of the scots. he is at invergarry, on the banks of loch oich. it is the th of october: dinner of real haggis; meet a conceited schoolmaster. this night, or rather in the early morning, i saw in the dream of my sleep my dear departed mother--she appeared to be coming out of her little sleeping-room at oulton hall--overjoyed i gave a cry and fell down at her knee, but my agitation was so great that it burst the bonds of sleep, and i awoke. but the letters to mrs. borrow are the essential documents here, and not the copious diaries which i hope to publish elsewhere. the first letter to 'carreta' is from edinburgh, where borrow arrived on sunday, th september : to mrs. george borrow, camperdown place, yarmouth, norfolk edinburgh, _sunday (sept. th, )._ dear carreta,--i just write a line to inform you that i arrived here yesterday quite safe. we did not start from yarmouth till past three o'clock on thursday morning; we reached newcastle about ten on friday. as i was walking in the street at newcastle a sailor-like man came running up to me, and begged that i would let him speak to me. he appeared almost wild with joy. i asked him who he was, and he told me he was a yarmouth north beach man, and that he knew me very well. before i could answer, another sailor-like, short, thick fellow came running up, who also seemed wild with joy; he was a comrade of the other. i never saw two people so out of themselves with pleasure, they literally danced in the street; in fact, they were two of my old friends. i asked them how they came down there, and they told me that they had been down fishing. they begged a thousand pardons for speaking to me, but told me they could not help it. i set off for alnwick on friday afternoon, stayed there all night, and saw the castle next morning. it is a fine old place, but at present is undergoing repairs--a scottish king was killed before its walls in the old time. at about twelve i started for edinburgh. the place is wonderfully altered since i was here, and i don't think for the better. there is a runic stone on the castle brae which i am going to copy. it was not there in my time. if you write direct to me at the post office, inverness. i am thinking of going to glasgow to-morrow, from which place i shall start for inverness by one of the packets which go thither by the north-west and the caledonian canal. i hope that you and hen are well and comfortable. pray eat plenty of grapes and partridges. we had upon the whole a pleasant passage from yarmouth; we lived plainly but well, and i was not at all ill--the captain seemed a kind, honest creature. remember me kindly to mrs. turnour and mrs. clarke, and god bless you and hen. george borrow. in his unpublished diary borrow records his journey from glasgow through beautiful but over-described scenery to inverness, where he stayed at the caledonian hotel: to mrs. george borrow, camperdown place, yarmouth inverness, _sunday (sept. th)._ dear carreta,--this is the third letter which i have written to you. whether you have received the other two, or will receive this, i am doubtful. i have been several times to the post office, but we found no letter from you, though i expected to find one awaiting me when i arrived. i wrote last on friday. i merely want to know once how you are, and if all is well i shall move onward. it is of not much use staying here. after i had written to you on friday i crossed by the ferry over the firth and walked to beauly, and from thence to beaufort or castle downie; at beauly i saw the gate of the pit where old fraser used to put the people whom he owed money to--it is in the old ruined cathedral, and at beaufort saw the ruins of the house where he was born. lord lovat lives in the house close by. there is now a claimant to the title, a descendant of old fraser's elder brother who committed a murder in the year , and on that account fled to south wales. the present family are rather uneasy, and so are their friends, of whom they have a great number, for though they are flaming papists they are very free of their money. i have told several of their cousins that the claimant has not a chance as the present family have been so long in possession. they almost blessed me for saying so. there, however, can be very little doubt that the title and estate, more than a million acres, belong to the claimant by strict law. old fraser's brother was called black john of the tasser. the man whom he killed was a piper who sang an insulting song to him at a wedding. i have heard the words and have translated them; he was dressed very finely, and the piper sang: 'you're dressed in highland robes, o john, but ropes of straw would become ye better; you've silver buckles your shoes upon but leather thongs for them were fitter.' whereupon john drew his dagger and ran it into the piper's belly; the descendants of the piper are still living at beauly. i walked that day thirty-four miles between noon and ten o'clock at night. my letter of credit is here. this is a dear place, but not so bad as edinburgh. _if you have written_, don't write any more till you hear from me again. god bless you and hen. george borrow. 'swindled out of a shilling by rascally ferryman,' is borrow's note in his diary of the episode that he relates to his wife of crossing the firth. he does not tell her, but his diary tells us, that he changed his inn on the day he wrote this letter: the following jottings from the diary cover the period: _sept. th._--quit the 'caledonian' for 'union sun'--poor accommodation--could scarcely get anything to eat--unpleasant day. walked by the river--at night saw the comet again from the bridge. _sept. th._--breakfast. the stout gentleman from caithness, mr. john miller, gave me his card--show him mine--his delight. _oct. st._--left inverness for fort augustus by steamer--passengers--strange man--tall gentleman--half doctor--breakfast--dreadful hurricane of wind and rain--reach fort augustus--inn--apartments--edinburgh ale--stroll over the bridge to a wretched village--wind and rain--return--fall asleep before fire--dinner--herrings, first-rate--black ale, highland mutton--pudding and cream--stroll round the fort--wet grass--stormy-like--wind and rain--return--kitchen--kind, intelligent woman from dornoch--no gaelic--shows me a gaelic book of spiritual songs by one robertson--talks to me about alexander cumming, a fat blacksmith and great singer of gaelic songs. but to return to borrow's letters to his wife: to mrs. george borrow, camperdown terrace, gt. yarmouth inverness, _september th, ._ my dear carreta,--i have got your letter, and glad enough i was to get it. the day after to-morrow i shall depart from here for fort augustus at some distance up the lake. after staying a few days there, i am thinking of going to the isle of mull, but i will write to you if possible from fort augustus. i am rather sorry that i came to scotland--i was never in such a place in my life for cheating and imposition, and the farther north you go the worse things seem to be, and yet i believe it is possible to live very cheap here, that is if you have a house of your own and a wife to go out and make bargains, for things are abundant enough, but if you move about you are at the mercy of innkeepers and suchlike people. the other day i was swindled out of a shilling by a villain to whom i had given it for change. i ought, perhaps, to have had him up before a magistrate provided i could have found one, but i was in a wild place and he had a clan about him, and if i had had him up i have no doubt i should have been outsworn. i, however, have met one fine, noble old fellow. the other night i lost my way amongst horrible moors and wandered for miles and miles without seeing a soul. at last i saw a light which came from the window of a rude hovel. i tapped at the window and shouted, and at last an old man came out; he asked me what i wanted, and i told him i had lost my way. he asked me where i came from and where i wanted to go, and on my telling him he said i had indeed lost my way, for i had got out of it at least four miles, and was going away from the place i wanted to get to. he then said he would show me the way, and went with me for several miles over most horrible places. at last we came to a road where he said he thought he might leave me, and wished me good-night. i gave him a shilling. he was very grateful and said, after considering, that as i had behaved so handsomely to him he would not leave me yet, as he thought it possible i might yet lose my way. he then went with me three miles farther, and i have no doubt that, but for him, i should have lost my way again, the roads were so tangled. i never saw such an old fellow, or one whose conversation was so odd and entertaining. this happened last monday night, the night of the day in which i had been swindled of the shilling by the other; i could write a history about those two shillings. to mrs. george borrow, camperdown terrace, gt. yarmouth inverness, _ th september ._ dear carreta,--i write another line to tell you that i have got your second letter--it came just in time, as i leave to-morrow. in your next, address to george borrow, post office, tobermory, isle of mull, scotland. you had, however, better write without delay, as i don't know how long i may be there; and be sure only to write once. i am glad we have got such a desirable tenant for our maltings, and should be happy to hear that the cottage was also let so well. however, let us be grateful for what has been accomplished. i hope you wrote to cooke as i desired you, and likewise said something about how i had waited for murray.... i met to-day a very fat gentleman from caithness, at the very north of scotland; he said he was descended from the norse. i talked to him about them, and he was so pleased with my conversation that he gave me his card, and begged that i would visit him if i went there. as i could do no less, i showed him my card--i had but one--and he no sooner saw the name than he was in a rapture. i am rather glad that you have got the next door, as the locality is highly respectable. tell hen that i copied the runic stone on the castle hill, edinburgh. it was brought from denmark in the old time. the inscription is imperfect, but i can read enough of it to see that it was erected by a man to his father and mother. i again write the direction for your next: george borrow, esq., post office, tobermory, isle of mull, scotland. god bless you and hen. ever yours, george borrow. to mrs. george borrow, camperdown terrace, gt. yarmouth fort augustus, _sunday, october th, ._ dear carreta,--i write a line lest you should be uneasy. before leaving the highlands i thought i would see a little more about me. so last week i set on a four days' task, a walk of a hundred miles. i returned here late last thursday night. i walked that day forty-five miles; during the first twenty the rain poured in torrents and the wind blew in my face. the last seventeen miles were in the dark. to-morrow i proceed towards mull. i hope that you got my letters, and that i shall find something from you awaiting me at the post office. the first day i passed over corryarrick, a mountain feet high. i was nearly up to my middle in snow. as soon as i had passed it i was in badenoch. the road on the farther side was horrible, and i was obliged to wade several rivulets, one of which was very boisterous and nearly threw me down.[ ] i wandered through a wonderful country, and picked up a great many strange legends from the people i met, but they were very few, the country being almost a desert, chiefly inhabited by deer. when amidst the lower mountains i frequently heard them blaring in the woods above me. the people at the inn here are by far the nicest i have met; they are kind and honourable to a degree. god bless you and hen. george borrow. to mrs. george borrow, camperdown terrace, yarmouth (fragment? undated.) on tuesday i am going through the whole of it to icolmkill--i should start to-morrow--but i must get my shoes new soles, for they have been torn to pieces by the roads, and likewise some of my things mended, for they are in a sad condition. i shall return from thurso to inverness, as i shall want some more money to bring me home. so pray do not let the credit be withdrawn. what a blessing it is to have money, but how cautious people ought to be not to waste it. pray remember me most kindly to our good friend mr. hills. send the harveys the pheasant as usual with my kind regards. i think you should write to mr. dalton of bury telling him that i have been unwell, and that i send my kind regards and respects to him. i send dear hen a paper in company with this, in which i have enclosed specimens of the heather, the moss and the fern, or 'raineach,' of mull.--god bless you both, george borrow. do not delay in sending the order. write at the same time telling me how you are. to mrs. george borrow, camperdown terrace, yarmouth, norfolk inverness, _nov. th, ._ dear carreta,--after i wrote to you i walked round mull and through it, over benmore. i likewise went to icolmkill, and passed twenty-four hours there. i saw the wonderful ruin and crossed the island. i suffered a great deal from hunger, but what i saw amply repaid me; on my return to tobermory i was rather unwell, but got better. i was disappointed in a passage to thurso by sea, so i was obliged to return to this place by train.[ ] on tuesday, d. v., i shall set out on foot, and hope to find your letter awaiting me at the post office at thurso. on coming hither by train i nearly lost my things. i was told at huntly that the train stopped ten minutes, and meanwhile the train drove off _purposely_; i telegraphed to keith in order that my things might be secured, describing where they were, under the seat. the reply was that there was nothing of the kind there. i instantly said that i would bring an action against the company, and walked off to the town, where i stated the facts to a magistrate, and gave him my name and address. he advised me to bring my action. i went back and found the people frightened. they telegraphed again--and the reply was that the things were safe. there is nothing like setting oneself up sometimes. i was terribly afraid i should never again find my books and things. i, however, got them, and my old umbrella, too. i was sent on by the mail train, but lost four hours, besides undergoing a great deal of misery and excitement. when i have been to thurso and kirkwall i shall return as quick as possible, and shall be glad to get out of the country. as i am here, however, i wish to see all i can, for i never wish to return. whilst in mull i lived very cheaply--it is not costing me more than seven shillings a day. the generality of the inns, however, in the lowlands are incredibly dear--half-a-crown for breakfast, consisting of a little tea, a couple of small eggs, and bread and butter--_two_ shillings for attendance. tell hen that i have some moss for her from benmore--also some seaweed from the farther shore of icolmkill. god bless you. george borrow. i do not possess any diaries or notebooks covering the period of the following letters. the diary which covers this period is mentioned in the bibliography attached to dr. knapp's _life of borrow_, which, with the rest of dr. knapp's borrow papers, is now in the possession of the hispanic society, new york. thurso, _ st nov. ._ my dear carreta,--i reached this place on friday night, and was glad enough to get your kind letter. i shall be so glad to get home to you. since my last letter to you i have walked nearly miles. i was terribly taken in with respect to distances--however, i managed to make my way. i have been to johnny groat's house, which is about twenty-two miles from this place. i had tolerably fine weather all the way, but within two or three miles of that place a terrible storm arose; the next day the country was covered with ice and snow. there is at present here a kind of greenland winter, colder almost than i ever knew the winter in russia. the streets are so covered with ice that it is dangerous to step out; to-morrow d. and i pass over into orkney, and we shall take the first steamer to aberdeen and inverness, from whence i shall make the best of my way to england. it is well that i have no farther to walk, for walking now is almost impossible--the last twenty miles were terrible, and the weather is worse now than it was then. i was terribly deceived with respect to steamboats. i was told that one passed over to orkney every day, and i have now been waiting two days, and there is not yet one. i have had quite enough of scotland. when i was at johnny groat's i got a shell for dear hen, which i hope i shall be able to bring or send to her. i am glad to hear that you have got out the money on mortgage so satisfactorily. one of the greatest blessings in this world is to be independent. my spirits of late have been rather bad, owing principally to my dear mother's death. i always knew that we should miss her. i dreamt about her at fort augustus. though i have walked so much i have suffered very little from fatigue, and have got over the ground with surprising facility, but i have not enjoyed the country so much as wales. i wish that you would order a hat for me against i come home; the one i am wearing is very shabby, having been so frequently drenched with rain and storm-beaten. i cannot say the exact day that i shall be home, but you may be expecting me. the worst is that there is no depending on the steamers, for there is scarcely any traffic in scotland in winter. my appetite of late has been very poorly, chiefly, i believe, owing to badness of food and want of regular meals. glad enough, i repeat, shall i be to get home to you and hen. george borrow. kirkwall, orkney, _november th, . saturday._ dear carreta,--i am, as you see, in orkney, and i expect every minute the steamer which will take me to shetland and aberdeen, from which last place i go by train to inverness, where my things are, and thence home. i had a stormy passage to stromness, from whence i took a boat to the isle of hoy, where i saw the wonderful dwarf's house hollowed out of the stone. from stromness i walked here. i have seen the old norwegian cathedral; it is of red sandstone, and looks as if cut out of rock. it is different from almost everything of the kind i ever saw. it is stern and grand to a degree. i have also seen the ruins of the old norwegian bishop's palace in which king hacon died; also the ruins of the palace of patrick, earl of orkney. i have been treated here with every kindness and civility. as soon as the people knew who i was they could scarcely make enough of me. the sheriff, mr. robertson, a great gaelic scholar, said he was proud to see me in his house; and a young gentleman of the name of petrie, clerk of supply, has done nothing but go about with me to show me the wonders of the place. mr. robertson wished to give me letters to some gentleman at edinburgh. i, however, begged leave to be excused, saying that i wished to get home, as, indeed, i do, for my mind is wearied by seeing so many strange places. on my way to kirkwall i saw the stones of stennis--immense blocks of stone standing up like those of salisbury plain. all the country is full of druidical and pictish remains. it is, however, very barren, and scarcely a tree is to be seen, only a few dwarf ones. orkney consists of a multitude of small islands, the principal of which is pomona, in which kirkwall is. the currents between them are terrible. i hope to be home a few days after you receive these lines, either by rail or steamer. this is a fine day, but there has been dreadful weather here. i hope we shall have a prosperous passage. i have purchased a little kirkwall newspaper, which i send you with this letter. i shall perhaps post both at lerwick or aberdeen. i sent you a johnny groat's newspaper, which i hope you got. don't tear either up, for they are curious. god bless you and hen. george borrow. stirling, _dec. th, ._ dear carreta,--i write a line to tell you that i am well and that i am on my way to england, but i am stopped here for a day, for there is no conveyance. wherever i can walk i get on very well--but if you depend on coaches or any means of conveyance in this country you are sure to be disappointed. this place is but thirty-five miles from edinburgh, yet i am detained for a day--there is no train. the waste of that day will prevent me getting to yarmouth from hull by the steamer. were it not for my baggage i would walk to edinburgh. i got to aberdeen, where i posted a letter for you. i was then obliged to return to inverness for my luggage-- miles. rather than return again to aberdeen, i sent on my things to dunkeld and walked the miles through the highlands. when i got here i walked to loch lomond and loch katrine, thirty-eight miles over horrible roads. i then got back here. i have now seen the whole of scotland that is worth seeing, and have walked miles. i shall be glad to be out of the country; a person here must depend entirely upon himself and his own legs. i have not spent much money--my expenses during my wanderings averaged a shilling a day. as i was walking through strathspey, singularly enough i met two or three of the phillips. i did not know them, but a child came running after me to ask me my name. it was miss p. and two of the children. i hope to get to you in two or three days after you get this. god bless you and dear hen. george borrow. in spite of borrow's vow never to visit scotland again, he was there eight years later--in --but only in the lowlands. his stepdaughter, hen., or henrietta clarke, had married dr. macoubrey, of belfast, and borrow and his wife went on a visit to the pair. but the incorrigible vagabond in borrow was forced to declare itself, and leaving his wife and daughter in belfast he crossed to stranraer by steamer on th july , and tramped through the lowlands, visiting ecclefechan and gretna green. we have no record of his experiences at these places. the only literary impression of the scots tour of , apart from a brief reference in dr. knapp's _life_, is an essay on kirk yetholm in _romano lavo-lil_. we would gladly have exchanged it for an account of his visits to abbotsford and melrose, two places which he saw in august of this year. in his letter of th november from kirkwall it will be seen that borrow records the kindness received from 'a young gentleman of the name of petrie.' it is pleasant to find that when he returned to england he did not forget that kindness, as the next letter demonstrates: to george petrie, esq., kirkwall camperdown place, yarmouth, _jany. , ._ my dear sir,--some weeks ago i wrote to mr. murray (and) requested him to transmit to you two works of mine. should you not have received them by the time this note reaches you, pray inform me and i will write to him again. they may have come already, but whenever they may come to hand, keep them in remembrance of one who will never forget your kind attention to him in orkney. on reaching aberdeen i went to inverness by rail. from there i sent off my luggage to dunkeld, and walked thither by the highland road. i never enjoyed a walk more--the weather was tolerably fine, and i was amidst some of the finest scenery in the world. i was particularly struck with that of glen truim. near the top of the valley in sight of the craig of badenoch on the left hand side of the way, i saw an immense cairn, probably the memorial of some bloody clan battle. on my journey i picked up from the mouth of an old highland woman a most remarkable tale concerning the death of fian or fingal. it differs entirely from the irish legends which i have heard on the subject--and is of a truly mythic character. since visiting shetland i have thought a great deal about the picts, but cannot come to any satisfactory conclusion. were they celts? were they laps? macbeth could hardly have been a lap, but then the tradition of the country that they were a diminutive race, and their name pight or pict, which i almost think is the same as petit--pixolo--puj--pigmy. it is a truly perplexing subject--quite as much so as that of fingal, and whether he was a scotsman or an irishman i have never been able to decide, as there has been so much to be said on both sides of the question. please present my kind remembrances to mrs. petrie and all friends, particularly mr. sheriff robertson,[ ] who first did me the favour of making me acquainted with you.--and believe me to remain, dear sir, ever sincerely yours, george borrow. thank you for the newspaper--the notice was very kind, but rather too flattering. on the same day that borrow wrote, mr. petrie sent his acknowledgment of the books, and so the letters crossed: i was very agreeably surprised on opening a packet, which came to me per steamer ten days ago, to find that it contained a present from you of your highly interesting and valuable works _lavengro_ and _romany rye_. coming from any person such books would have been highly prized by me, and it is therefore specially gratifying to have them presented to me by their author. please to accept of my sincere and heartfelt thanks for your kind remembrance of me and your valuable gift. may i request you to confer an additional favour on me by sending me a slip of paper to be pasted on each of the five volumes, stating that they were presented to me by you. i would like to hand them down as an heirloom to my family. i am afraid you will think that i am a very troublesome acquaintance. i would have written sooner, but i expected to have had some information to give you about some of the existing superstitions of orkney which might perhaps have some interest for you. i have, however, been much engrossed with county business during the last fortnight, and must therefore reserve my account of these matters till another opportunity. mr. balfour, our principal landowner in orkney, is just now writing an article on the ancient laws and customs of the county to be prefixed to a miscellaneous collection of documents, chiefly of the sixteenth century. he is taking the opportunity to give an account of the nature of the tenures by which the ancient jarls held the jarldom, and the manner in which the odalret became gradually supplanted. i have furnished him with several of the documents, and am just now going over it with him. it is for the bannatyne club in edinburgh that he is preparing it, but i have suggested to him to have it printed for general sale, as it is very interesting, and contains a great mass of curious information condensed into a comparatively small space. mr. balfour is very sorry that he had not the pleasure of meeting you when you were here. my last glimpse of george borrow in scotland during his memorable trip of the winter of is contained in a letter that i received some time ago from the rev. j. wilcock of st. ringan's manse, lerwick, which runs as follows: _nov. th, ._ dear sir,--as i see that you are interested in george borrow, would you allow me to supply you with a little notice of him which has not appeared in print? a friend here--need i explain that this is written from the capital of the shetlands?--a friend, i say, now dead, told me that one day early in the forenoon, during the winter, he had walked out from the town for a stroll into the country. about a mile out from the town is a piece of water called the loch of clickimin, on a peninsula, in which is an ancient (so-called) 'pictish castle.' his attention was attracted by a tall, burly stranger, who was surveying this ancient relic with deep interest. as the water of the loch was well up about the castle, converting the plot of ground on which it stood almost altogether into an island, the stranger took off shoes and stockings and trousers, and waded all round the building in order to get a thorough view of it. this procedure was all the more remarkable from the fact, as above mentioned, that the season was winter. i believe that there was snow on the ground at the time. my friend noticed on meeting him again in the course of the same walk that he was very lightly clothed. he had on a cotton shirt, a loose open jacket, and on the whole was evidently indifferent to the rigour of our northern climate at that time of the year. in addition to the visit to belfast in , borrow was in ireland the year following his scots tour of , that is to say from july to november . he went, accompanied by his wife and daughter, by holyhead to dublin, where, as dr. knapp has discovered, they resided at st. stephen green, south. borrow, as was his custom, left his family while he was on a walking tour which included connemara and on northward to the giant's causeway. he was keenly interested in the two societies in dublin engaged upon the study of ancient irish literature, and he became a member of the ossianic society in july of this year. i have a number of borrow's translations from the irish in my possession, but no notebooks of his tour on this occasion. all irishmen who wish their country to preserve its individuality should have a kindly feeling for george borrow. opposed as he was to the majority of the people in religion and in politics, he was about the only englishman of his time who took an interest in their national literature, language and folk-lore. had he written such another travel book about ireland as he wrote about wales he would certainly have added to the sum of human pleasure. i find only one letter to his wife during this irish journey: to mrs. george borrow ballina, county mayo, _thursday morning._ my dear carreta,--i write to you a few lines. i have now walked miles, and have passed through leinster and connaught. i have suffered a good deal of hardship, for this is a very different country to walk in from england. the food is bad and does not agree with me. i shall be glad to get back, but first of all i wish to walk to the causeway. as soon as i have done that i shall get on railroad and return, as i find there is a railroad from londonderry to dublin. pray direct to me at post office, londonderry. i have at present about seven pounds remaining, perhaps it would bring me back to dublin; however, to prevent accidents, have the kindness to enclose me an order on the post office, londonderry, for five pounds. i expect to be there next monday, and to be home by the end of the week. glad enough i shall be to get back to you and hen. i got your letter at galway. what you said about poor flora was comforting--pray take care of her. don't forget the order. i hope to write in a day or two a kind of duplicate of this. i send hen. heath from connemara, and also seaweed from a bay of the atlantic. i have walked across ireland; the country people are civil; but i believe all classes are disposed to join the french. the idolatry and popery are beyond conception. god bless you, dearest. george borrow. love to hen. and poor flora. (keep this.) footnotes: [ ] borrow had _the sleeping bard_ printed at his own expense in great yarmouth in , mr. murray giving his imprint on the title-page. see chapter xxxv. p. [ ] which will be published in my edition of _borrow's collected works_. [ ] mr. james barren of _the inverness courier_ informs me that borrow took a well-known route between fort augustus and badenoch, although nowadays it is rarely used, as wade's road has been abandoned; it is very dilapidated. it was not quite so bad, he says, in . [ ] mr. barron points out to me that as there was no direct railway communication borrow must have gone to aberdeen or huntly, and returned from the latter town to inverness. he must have taken a steamer from tobermory to fort william, and thence probably walked by glen spean and laggan to kingussie. after that he must have traversed one of the passes leading by ben macdhui or the cairngorms to aberdeenshire. [ ] mr. sheriff robertson's son kindly sends me the following extract from the diary of his father, james robertson, sheriff of orkney: '_friday, th november, ._--in the evening geo. petrie called with "bible borrow." he is a man about , upwards of six feet in height, and of an athletic though somewhat gaunt frame. his hair is pure white though a little bit thin on the top, his features high and handsome, and his complexion ruddy and healthy. he was dressed in black, his surtout was old, his shoes very muddy. he spoke in a loud tone of voice, knows gaelic and irish well, quoted ian lom, duncan ban m'intyre, etc., is publishing an account of welsh, irish, and gaelic bards. he travelled--on foot principally--from inverness to thurso, and is going on to-morrow to zetland. he walked lately through the upper part of badenoch, lochaber, and the adjacent counties, and through mull, which he greatly admired.... in his rambles he associated exclusively with the lower classes, and when i offered to give him letters of introduction to wm. f. skene, robert chambers, joseph robertson, etc., he declined to accept them. his mother died lately and he was travelling, he said, to divert and throw off his melancholy. he talked very freely on all subjects that one broached, but not with precision, and he appeared to me to be an amiable man and a gentleman, but, withal, something of a projector, if not an adventurer. he is certainly eccentric. i asked him to take wine, etc., and he declined. he said he was bred at the high school of edinburgh, and that he was there in , and mentioned that he was partly educated in ireland, and that by birth and descent he is an englishman.' chapter xxx _the romany rye_ george borrow's three most important books had all a very interesting history. we have seen the processes by which _the bible in spain_ was built up from notebooks and letters. we have seen further the most curious apprenticeship by which _lavengro_ came into existence. the most distinctly english book--at least in a certain absence of cosmopolitanism--that victorian literature produced was to a great extent written on scraps of paper during a prolonged continental tour which included constantinople and budapest. in _lavengro_ we have only half a book, the whole work, which included what came to be published as _the romany rye_, having been intended to appear in four volumes. the first volume was written in , the second in , after the continental tour, which is made use of in the description of the hungarian, and the third volume in the years between and . then in borrow wrote out an 'advertisement' of a fourth volume,[ ] which runs as follows: shortly will be published in one volume. price s. _the rommany rye_, being the fourth volume of _lavengro_. by george borrow, author of _the bible in spain_. but this volume did not make an appearance 'shortly.' its author was far too much offended with the critics, too disheartened it may be to care to offer himself again for their gibes. the years rolled on, much of the time being spent at yarmouth, a little of it at oulton. there was a visit to cornwall in , and another to wales in the same year. the isle of man was selected for a holiday in , and not until did _the romany rye_ appear. the book was now in two volumes, and we see that the word romany had dropped an 'm': the romany rye: a sequel to 'lavengro.' by george borrow, author of 'the bible in spain,' 'the gypsies of spain,' etc., 'fear god, and take your own part.' in two volumes. london: john murray, albemarle street, . dr. knapp publishes some vigorous correspondence between mrs. borrow and her husband's publisher written prior to the issue of _the romany rye_. 'mr. borrow has not the slightest wish to publish the book,' she says. 'the manuscript was left with you because you wished to see it.'[ ] this was written in , the wife presumably writing at her husband's dictation. in the situation was not improved, as borrow himself writes to mr. murray: 'in your last letter you talk of _obliging me by publishing my verse_. now is not that speaking very injudiciously?'[ ] at last, however, in april , _the romany rye_ appeared, and we are introduced once more to many old favourites, to petulengro, to the man in black, and above all to isopel berners. the incidents of _lavengro_ are supposed to have taken place between the th may and the th july of that year. in _the romany rye_ the incidents apparently occur between th july and rd august . in the opinion of that most eminent of gypsy experts, mr. john sampson,[ ] the whole of the episodes in the five volumes occurred in seventy-two days. mr. sampson agrees with dr. knapp in locating mumper's dingle in momber or monmer lane, willenhall, shropshire. the dingle has disappeared--it is now occupied by the monmer lane ironworks--but you may still find dingle bridge and dingle lane. the book has added to the glamour of gypsydom, and to the interest in the gypsies which we all derive from _lavengro_, but mr. sampson makes short work of borrow's gypsy learning on its philological side. 'no gypsy,' he says, 'ever uses _chal_ or _engro_ as a separate word, or talks of the _dukkering dook_ or of _penning a dukkerin_.' 'borrow's genders are perversely incorrect'; and 'romany'--a word which can never get out of our language, let philologists say what they will--should have been 'romani.' '"haarsträubend" is the fitting epithet,' says mr. sampson, 'which an oriental scholar, professor richard pischel of berlin, finds to describe borrow's etymologies.' but all this is very unimportant, and the book remains in the whole of its forty-seven chapters not one whit less a joy to us than does its predecessor _lavengro_, with its visions of gypsies and highwaymen and boxers. but then there is its 'appendix.' that appendix of eleven petulant chapters undoubtedly did borrow harm in his day and generation. now his fame is too great, and his genius too firmly established for these strange dissertations on men and things to offer anything but amusement or edification. they reveal, for example, the singularly non-literary character of this great man of letters. much--too much--has been made of his dislike of walter scott and his writings. as a matter of fact borrow tells us that he admired scott both as a prose writer and as a poet. 'since scott he had read no modern writer. scott was greater than homer,' he told frances cobbe. but he takes occasion to condemn his 'charlie o'er the water nonsense,' and declares that his love of and sympathy with certain periods and incidents have made for sympathy with what he always calls 'popery.'[ ] well, looking at the matter from an entirely opposite point of view, cardinal newman declared that the writings of scott had had no inconsiderable influence in directing his mind towards the church of rome.[ ] during the first quarter of this century a great poet was raised up in the north, who, whatever were his defects, has contributed by his works, in prose and verse, to prepare men for some closer and more practical approximation to catholic truth. the general need of something deeper and more attractive than what had offered itself elsewhere may be considered to have led to his popularity; and by means of his popularity he re-acted on his readers, stimulating their mental thirst, feeding their hopes, setting before them visions, which, when once seen, are not easily forgotten, and silently indoctrinating them with nobler ideas, which might afterwards be appealed to as first principles.[ ] [illustration: facsimile of a page of the manuscript of _the romany rye_ _from the borrow papers in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle'_] and thus we see that borrow had a certain prescience in this matter. but borrow, in good truth, cared little for modern english literature. his heart was entirely with the poets of other lands--the scandinavians and the kelts. in virgil he apparently took little interest, nor in the great poetry of greece, rome and england, although we find a reference to theocritus and dante in his books. fortunately for his fame he had read _gil blas_, _don quixote_, and, above all, _robinson crusoe_, which last book, first read as a boy of six, coloured his whole life. defoe and fielding and bunyan were the english authors to whom he owed most. of byron he has quaint things to say, and of wordsworth things that are neither quaint nor wise. we recall the man in the field in the twenty-second chapter of _the romany rye_ who used wordsworth's poetry as a soporific. and throughout his life borrow's position towards his contemporaries in literature was ever contemptuous. he makes no mention of carlyle or ruskin or matthew arnold, and they in their turn, it may be added, make no mention of him or of his works. thackeray he snubbed on one of the few occasions they met, and browning and tennyson were alike unrevealed to him. borrow indeed stands quite apart from the great literature of a period in which he was a striking and individual figure. lacking appreciation in this sphere of work, he wrote of 'the contemptible trade of author,' counting it less creditable than that of a jockey. but all this is a digression from the progress of our narrative of the advent of _the romany rye_. the book was published in an edition of copies in april , and it took thirty years to dispose of copies. not more than copies of his book were sold in great britain during the twenty-three remaining years of borrow's life. what wonder that he was embittered by his failure! the reviews were far from favourable, although mr. elwin wrote not unkindly in an article in the _quarterly review_ called 'roving life in england.' no critic, however, was as severe as _the athenæum_, which had called _lavengro_ 'balderdash' and referred to _the romany rye_ as the 'literary dough' of an author 'whose dullest gypsy preparation we have now read.' in later years, when, alas! it was too late, _the athenæum_, through the eloquent pen of theodore watts, made good amends. but william bodham donne wrote to borrow with adequate enthusiasm: to george borrow, esq. st. james's square, _may th, ._ my dear sir,--i received your book some days ago, but would not write to you before i was able to read it, at least once, since it is needless, i hope, for me to assure you that i am truly gratified by the gift. time to read it i could not find for some days after it was sent hither, for what with winding up my affairs here, the election of my successor, preparations for flitting, etc., etc., i have been incessantly occupied with matters needful to be done, but far less agreeable to do than reading _the romany rye_. all i have said of _lavengro_ to yourself personally, or to others publicly or privately, i say again of _the romany rye_. everywhere in it the hand of the master is stamped boldly and deeply. you join the chisel of dante with the pencil of defoe. i am rejoiced to see so many works announced of yours, for you have more that is worth knowing to tell than any one i am acquainted with. for your coming progeny's sake i am disposed to wish you had worried the literary-craft less. brand and score them never so much, they will not turn and repent, but only spit the more froth and venom. i am reckoning of my emancipation with an eagerness hardly proper at my years, but i cannot help it, so thoroughly do i hate london, and so much do i love the country. i have taken a house, or rather a cottage, at walton on thames, just on the skirts of weybridge, and there i hope to see you before i come into norfolk, for i am afraid my face will not be turned eastward for many weeks if not months. remember me kindly to mrs. borrow and miss clarke, and believe me, my dear sir, very truly and thankfully yours. wm. b. donne. and perhaps a letter from the then town clerk of oxford is worth reproducing here: to george borrow, esq. town clerk's office, oxford, _ th august ._ sir,--we have, attached to our corporation, an ancient jocular court composed of of the poor old freemen who attend the elections and have a king who sits attired in scarlet with a crown and sentences interlopers (non-freeman) to be cold-burned, _i.e._ a bucket or so of water introduced to the offender's sleeve by means of the city pump; but this infliction is of course generally commuted by a small pecuniary compensation. they call themselves 'slaveonians' or 'sclavonians.' the only notice we have of them in the city records is by the name of 'slovens hall.' reading _romany rye_ i notice your account of the sclaves and venture to trouble you with this, and to enquire whether you think that the sclaves might be connected through the saxons with the ancient municipal institutions of this country. you are no doubt aware that oxford is one of the most ancient saxon towns, being a royal bailiwick and fortified before the conquest,--yours truly. george p. hester. in spite of contemporary criticism, _the romany rye_ is a great book, or rather it contains the concluding chapters of a great book. sequels are usually proclaimed to be inferior to their predecessors. but _the romany rye_ is not a sequel. it is part of _lavengro_, and is therefore borrow's most imperishable monument. footnotes: [ ] borrow was fond of writing out title-pages for his books, and i have a dozen or so of these draft title-pages among my borrow papers. [ ] dr. knapp's _life_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] borrow's association with the firm of murray deserves a chapter to itself, but the material for writing such a chapter has already been used by dr. knapp and mr. herbert jenkins. the present mr. john murray, john murray iv., has seventy letters from borrow to his firm in his possession. the first of the name to publish borrow's works was john murray ii., who died in . john murray iii., who died in , and his partner and cousin robert cooke, were borrow's friends. he had differences at times, but he was loyal to them and they were loyal to him as good authors and good publishers ought to be. with all his irritability borrow had the sense to see that there was substantial reason in their declining to issue his translations. that, although at the end there were long intervals of silence, the publishers and their author remained friends is shown by letters written to his daughter after borrow's death, and by the following little note from borrow to john murray which was probably never sent. it is in the feeble, broken handwriting of what was probably the last year of borrow's life. to john murray, esq. 'oulton (_no date_). 'my dear friend,--thank you most sincerely for sending me the last vol. of the _quarterly_, a truly remarkable one it is, full of literature of every description--i should have answered the receipt of it before had i not been very unwell. should you come to these parts do me the favour to look in upon me--it might do me good, and say the same thing from me to my kind and true friend robt. cooke. his last visit to me did me much good, and another might probably do me the same. what a horrible state the country seems to be in, and no wonder--a monster-minister whose principal aim seems to be the ruin of his native land, a parliament either incompetent or indifferent. however, let us hope for the best. pray send my cordial respects to mrs. murray and kind regards to the rest of your good family.--ever sincerely yours, george borrow.' [ ] mr. sampson has written an admirable introduction to _the romany rye_ in methuen's 'little library,' but he goes rather far in his suggestion that borrow instead of writing 'joseph sell' for £ , possibly obtained that sum by imitating 'the methods of jerry abershaw, galloping dick,' or some of the 'fraternity of vagabonds' whose lives borrow had chronicled in his _celebrated trials_, in other words, that he stole the money. [ ] _the romany rye_, appendix, ch. vii. [ ] it is interesting to note that all the surviving members of sir walter scott's family belong to the roman catholic church, as do certain members of the family of newman's opponent, charles kingsley. several members of charles dickens's family are also roman catholics. [ ] _essays critical and historical_ by john henry cardinal newman, vol. i., longmans. see also _apologia pro vita sua_, pp. - . chapter xxxi. edward fitzgerald edward fitzgerald once declared that he was about the only friend with whom borrow had never quarrelled.[ ] there was probably no reason for this exceptional amity other than the 'genius for friendship' with which fitzgerald has been rightly credited. there were certainly, however, many points of likeness between the two men which might have kept them at peace. both had written copiously and out of all proportion to the public demand for their work. both revelled in translation. fitzgerald's eight volumes in a magnificent american edition consists mainly of translations from various tongues which no man presumably now reads. all the world has read and will long continue to read his translation or paraphrase of omar khayyám's _rubáiyát_. 'old fitz,' as his friends called him, lives by that, although his letters are among the best in literature. borrow wrote four books that will live, but had publishers been amenable he would have published forty, and all as unsaleable as the major part of fitzgerald's translations. both men were suffolk squires, and yet delighted more in the company of a class other than their own, fitzgerald of boatmen, borrow of gypsies; both were counted eccentrics in their respective villages. perhaps alone among the great victorian authors they lived to be old without receiving in their lives any popular recognition of their great literary achievements. but fitzgerald had a more cultivated mind than borrow. he loved literature and literary men whilst borrow did not. his criticism of books is of the best, and his friendships with bookmen are among the most interesting in literary history. 'a solitary, shy, kind-hearted man,' was the verdict upon him of the frequently censorious carlyle. when anne thackeray asked her father which of his friends he had loved best, he answered 'dear old fitz, to be sure,' and tennyson would have said the same. borrow had none of these gifts as a letter-writer and no genius for friendship. the charm of his style, so indisputable in his best work, is absent from his letters; and his friends were alienated one after another. borrow's undisciplined intellect and narrow upbringing were a curse to him, from the point of view of his own personal happiness, although they helped him to achieve exactly the work for which he was best fitted. borrow's acquaintance with fitzgerald was commenced by the latter, who, in july , sent from boulge hall, suffolk, to oulton hall, in the same county, his recently published volume _six dramas of calderon_. he apologises for making so free with 'a great man; but, as usual, i shall feel least fear before a man like yourself who both do fine things in your own language and are deep read in those of others.' he also refers to 'our common friend donne,' so that it is probable that they had met at donne's house.[ ] the next letter, also published by dr. knapp, that fitzgerald writes to borrow is dated from his home in great portland street in . he presents his friend with a turkish dictionary, and announces his coming marriage to miss barton, 'our united ages amount to !--a dangerous experiment on both sides'--as it proved. the first reference to borrow in the fitzgerald _letters_ issued by his authorised publishers is addressed to professor cowell in january : i was with borrow a week ago at donne's, and also at yarmouth three months ago: he is well, but not yet agreed with murray. he read me a long translation he had made from the turkish: which i could not admire, and his taste becomes stranger than ever.[ ] but borrow's genius if not his taste was always admired by fitzgerald, as the following letter among my borrow papers clearly indicates. borrow had published _the romany rye_ at the beginning of may: [illustration: oulton cottage from the broad showing the summer house on the left from a sketch by henrietta macoubrey. the house which has replaced it has another aspect.] [illustration: the summer house oulton, as it is to day which when compared with miss macoubrey's sketch shows that it has been reroofed and probably rebuilt altogether.] to george borrow, esq., oulton hall. goldington hall, bedford, _may / _[ ] my dear sir,--your book was put into my hands a week ago just as i was leaving london; so i e'en carried it down here, and have been reading it under the best circumstances:--at such a season--in the fields as they now are--and in company with a friend i love best in the world--who scarce ever reads a book, but knows better than i do what they are made of from a hint. well, lying in a paddock of his, i have been travelling along with you to horncastle, etc.,--in a very delightful way for the most part; something as i have travelled, and love to travel, with fielding, cervantes, and robinson crusoe--and a smack of all these there seems to me, with something beside, in your book. but, as will happen in travel, there were some spots i didn't like so well--didn't like _at all_: and sometimes wished to myself that i, a poor 'man of taste,' had been at your elbow (who are a man of much more than taste) to divert you, or get you by some means to pass lightlier over some places. but you wouldn't have heeded me, and won't heed me, and _must_ go your own way, i think--and in the parts i least like, i am yet thankful for honest, daring, and original thought and speech such as one hardly gets in these mealy-mouthed days. it was very kind of you to send me your book. my wife is already established at a house called 'albert's villa,' or some such name, at gorlestone--but a short walk from you: and i am to find myself there in a few days. so i shall perhaps tell you more of my thoughts ere long. now i shall finish this large sheet with a tetrastich of one omar khayyám who was an epicurean infidel some years ago: [persian][ ] and am yours very truly, edward fitzgerald. in a letter to cowell about the same time--june , --fitzgerald writes that he is about to set out for gorleston, great yarmouth: within hail almost lives george borrow, who has lately published, and given me, two new volumes of lavengro called _romany rye_, with some excellent things, and some very bad (as i have made bold to write to him--how shall i face him!) you would not like the book at all i think.[ ] it was cowell, it will be remembered, who introduced fitzgerald to the persian poet omar, and afterwards regretted the act. the first edition of _the rubáiyát of omar khayyám_ appeared two years later, in . edward byles cowell was born in ipswich in , and he was educated at the ipswich grammar school. it was in the library attached to the ipswich library institution that cowell commenced the study of oriental languages. in he entered the business of his father and grandfather as a merchant and maltster. when only twenty years of age he commenced his friendship with edward fitzgerald, and their correspondence may be found in dr. aldis wright's _fitzgerald correspondence_. in he left his brother to carry on the business and entered himself at magdalen hall, oxford, where he passed six years. at intervals he read greek with fitzgerald and, later, persian. fitzgerald commenced to learn this last language, which was to bring him fame, when he was forty-four years of age. in cowell was appointed to a professorship of english history at calcutta, and from there he sent fitzgerald a copy of the manuscript of _omar khayyám_, afterwards lent by fitzgerald to borrow. much earlier than this--in --fitzgerald had written to borrow: at ipswich, indeed, is a man whom you would like to know, i think, and who would like to know you; one edward cowell: a great scholar, if i may judge.... should you go to ipswich do look for him! a great deal more worth looking for (i speak with no sham modesty, i am sure) than yours,--e. f. g.[ ] twenty-six years afterwards--in --we find fitzgerald writing to dr. aldis wright to the effect that cowell had been seized with 'a wish to learn welsh under george borrow': and as he would not venture otherwise, i gave him a note of introduction, and off he went, and had an hour with the old boy, who was hard of hearing and shut up in a stuffy room, but cordial enough; and cowell was glad to have seen the man, and tell him that it was his _wild wales_ which first inspired a thirst for this language into the professor.[ ] this introduction and meeting are described by professor cowell in the following letter:[ ] cambridge, _december , ._ dear sir,--i fear i cannot help you much by my reminiscences of borrow. i never had the slightest interest in the gipsies, but i always had a corner in my heart for spain and wales, and consequently _the bible in spain_ and _wild wales_ have always been favourite books. but though borrow's works were well known to me, i never saw him but once, and what i saw of him then made me feel that he was one of those men who put the best part of themselves into their books. we get the pure gold there without the admixture of alloy which daily life seemed to impart. i was staying one autumn at lowestoft some ten years or more ago when i asked my dear old friend, mr. edward fitzgerald, to give me a letter of introduction to mr. george borrow. armed with this i started on my pilgrimage and took a chaise for oulton hall. i remember as we drew near we turned into a kind of drift road through the fields where the long sweeping boughs of the trees hung so low that i lost my hat more than once as we drove along. my driver remarked that the old gentleman would not allow any of his trees to be cut. when we reached the hall i went in at the gate into the farmyard, but i could see nobody about anywhere. i walked up to the front door, but nobody answered my knock except some dogs, who began barking from their kennels. at last in answer to a very loud knock, the door was opened by an old gentleman whom i at once recognised by the engraving to be borrow himself. i gave him my letter and introduced myself. he replied in a tone of humorous petulance, 'what is the good of your bringing me a letter when i haven't got my spectacles to read it?' however, he took me into his room, where i fancy my knock had roused him from a siesta. we soon got into talk. he began by some unkind remarks about one or two of our common friends, but i soon turned the subject to books, especially spanish and welsh books. here i own i was disappointed in his conversation. i talked to him about ab gwilym, whom he speaks so highly of in _wild wales_, but his interest was languid. he did not seem interested when i told him that the london society of cymmrodorion were publishing in their journal the welsh poems of iolo goch, the bard of owen glendower who fought with our henry v., two of whose poems borrow had given spirited translations of in _wild wales_. he told me he had heaps of translations from welsh books somewhere in his cupboards but he did not know where to lay his hand on them. he did not show me one welsh or spanish book of any kind. you may easily imagine that i was disappointed with my interview and i never cared to visit him again. borrow was a man of real genius, and his _bible in spain_ and _wild wales_ are unique books in their way, but with all his knowledge of languages he was not a scholar. i should be the last person to depreciate his _sleeping bard_, for i owe a great deal to it as it helped me to read the welsh original, but it is full of careless mistakes. the very title is wrong; it should not be the _visions of the sleeping bard_ but the _visions of the bard sleep_, as the bard or prophet sleep shows the author in a series of dreams--his visions of life, death, and hell, which form the three chapters of the book. borrow knew nothing of philology. his strange version of 'om mani padme hûm' (oh! the gem in the lotus ho!) must have been taken from some phonetic representation of the sounds as heard by an ignorant traveller in china or mongolia. i have written this long letter lured on by my recollections, but after all i can tell you nothing. surely it is best that borrow should remain a name; we have the best part of him still living in his best books. 'he gave the people of his best; his worst he kept, his best he gave.' i don't see why we should trouble ourselves about his 'worst.' he had his weaker side like all of us, the foolish part of his nature as well as the wise; but 'de mortuis nil nisi bonum' especially applies in such cases.--i remain, dear sir, yours sincerely, e. b. cowell. there is one short letter from fitzgerald to borrow in dr. aldis wright's _fitzgerald letters_. it is dated june and from it we learn that fitzgerald lent borrow the calcutta manuscript of _omar khayyám_, upon which he based his own immortal translation, and from a letter to w. h. thompson in we learn that cowell, who had inspired the writing of fitzgerald's _omar khayyám_, donne and borrow were the only three friends to whom he had sent copies of his 'peccadilloes in verse' as he calls his remarkable translation,[ ] and this two years after it was published. a letter, dated july , ,[ ] asks for the return of fitzgerald's copy of the ouseley manuscript of _omar khayyám_, borrow having clearly already returned the calcutta manuscript. this letter concludes on a pathetic note: my old parson crabbe is bowing down under epileptic fits, or something like, and i believe his brave old white head will soon sink into the village church sward. why, _our_ time seems coming. make way, gentlemen! borrow comes more than once into the story of fitzgerald's great translation of _omar khayyám_, which in our day has caused so great a sensation, and deserves all the enthusiasm that it has excited as the '... golden eastern lay, than which i know no version done in english more divinely well,' to quote tennyson's famous eulogy. cowell, to his after regret, for he had none of fitzgerald's _dolce far niente_ paganism, had sent fitzgerald from calcutta, where he was, the manuscript of omar khayyám's _rubáiyát_ in persian, and fitzgerald was captured by it. two years later, as we know, he produced the translation, which was so much more than a translation. 'omar breathes a sort of consolation to me,' he wrote to cowell. 'borrow is greatly delighted with your ms. of omar which i showed him,' he says in another letter to cowell (june , ), 'delighted at the terseness so unusual in oriental verse.'[ ] the next two letters by fitzgerald from my borrow papers are of the year , the year of the first publication of the _rubáiyát_: to george borrow, esq. marine parade, lowestoft. my dear borrow,--i have come here with three nieces to give them sea air and change. they are all perfectly quiet, sensible, and unpretentious girls; so as, if you will come over here any day or days, we will find you board and bed too, for a week longer at any rate. there is a good room below, which we now only use for meals, but which you and i can be quite at our sole ease in. won't you come? i purpose (and indeed have been some while intentioning) to go over to yarmouth to look for you. but i write this note in hope it may bring you hither also. donne has got his soldier boy home from india--freddy--i always thought him a very nice fellow indeed. no doubt life is happy enough to all of them just now. donne has been on a visit to the highlands--which seems to have pleased him--i have got an ms. of bahram and his seven castles (persian), which i have not yet cared to look far into. will you? it is short, fairly transcribed, and of some repute in its own country, i hear. cowell sent it me from calcutta; but it almost requires _his_ company to make one devote one's time to persian, when, with what remains of one's old english eyes, one can read the odyssey and shakespeare. with compliments to the ladies, believe me, yours very truly, edward fitzgerald. i didn't know you were back from your usual summer tour till mr. cobb told my sister lately of having seen you. to george borrow, esq. bath house, lowestoft, _october / ._ dear borrow,--this time last year i was here and wrote to ask about you. you were gone to scotland. well, where are you now? as i also said last year: 'if you be in yarmouth and have any mind to see me i will go over some day; or here i am if you will come here. and i am quite alone. as it is i would bus it to yarmouth but i don't know if you and yours be there at all, nor if there, whereabout. if i don't hear at all i shall suppose you are not there, on one of your excursions, or not wanting to be rooted out; a condition i too well understand. i was at gorleston some months ago for some while; just after losing my greatest friend, the bedfordshire lad who was crushed to death, coming home from hunting, his horse falling on him. he survived indeed two months, and i had been to bid him eternal adieu, so had no appetite for anything but rest--rest--rest. i have just seen his widow off from here. with kind regards to the ladies, yours very truly, edward fitzgerald. in a letter to george crabbe the third, and the grandson of the poet, in , fitzgerald tells him that he has just been reading borrow's _wild wales_, 'which _i_ like well because i can hear him talking it. but i don't know if others will like it.' 'no one writes better english than borrow in general,' he says. but fitzgerald, as a lover of style, is vexed with some of borrow's phrases, and instances one: '"the scenery was beautiful _to a degree_," _what_ degree? when did this vile phrase arise?' the criticism is just, but borrow, in common with many other great english authors whose work will live was not uniformly a good stylist. he has many lamentable fallings away from the ideals of the stylist. but he will, by virtue of a wonderful individuality, outlive many a good stylist. his four great books are immortal, and one of them is _wild wales_. we have a glimpse of fitzgerald in the following letter in my possession, by the friend who had introduced him to borrow, william bodham donne:[ ] to george borrow, esq. weymouth street, portland place, w., _november / ._ my dear borrow,--many thanks for the copy of _wild wales_ reserved for and sent to me by mr. r. cooke.[ ] before this copy arrived i had obtained one from the london library and read it through, not exactly _stans pede in uno_, but certainly almost at a stretch. i could not indeed lay it down, it interested me so much. it is one of the very best records of home travel, if indeed so strange a country as wales is can properly be called _home_, i have ever met with. immediately on closing the third volume i secured a few pages in _fraser's magazine_ for _wild wales_, for though you do not stand in need of my aid, yet my notice will not do you a mischief, and some of the reviewers of _lavengro_ were, i recollect, shocking blockheads, misinterpreting the letter and misconceiving the spirit of that work. i have, since we met in burlington arcade, been on a visit to fitzgerald. he is in better spirits by far than when i saw him about the same time in last year. he has his pictures and his chattels about him, and has picked up some acquaintance among the merchants and mariners of woodbridge, who, although far below his level, are yet better company than the two old skippers he was consorting with in . they--his present friends--came in of an evening, and sat and drank and talked, and i enjoyed their talk very much, since they discussed of what they understood, which is more than i can say generally of the fine folks i occasionally (very occasionally now) meet in london. i should have said more about your book, only i wish to keep it for print: and you don't need to be told by me that it is very good.--with best regards to mrs. borrow and miss clarke, i am, yours ever truly, w. b. donne. the last letter from fitzgerald to borrow is dated many years after the correspondence i have here printed,[ ] and from it we gather that there had been no correspondence in the interval.[ ] fitzgerald writes from little grange, woodbridge, in january , to say that he had received a message from borrow that he would be glad to see him at oulton. 'i think the more of it,' says fitzgerald, 'because i imagine, from what i have heard, that you have slunk away from human company as much as i have.' he hints that they might not like one another so well after a fifteen years' separation. he declares with infinite pathos that he has now severed himself from all old ties, has refused the invitations of old college friends and old schoolfellows. to him there was no companionship possible for his declining days other than his reflections and verses. it is a fine letter, filled with that graciousness of spirit that was ever a trait in fitzgerald's noble nature. the two men never met again. when borrow died, in , fitzgerald, who followed him two years later, suggested to dr. aldis wright, afterwards to be his (fitzgerald's) executor, who was staying with him at the time, that he should look over borrow's books and manuscripts if his stepdaughter so desired. if this had been arranged, and dr. aldis wright had written borrow's life, there would have been no second biographer.[ ] footnotes: [ ] this was said by fitzgerald to his friend frederick spalding. [ ] edward fitzgerald to george borrow, in knapp's _life_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] _the works of edward fitzgerald_, vol. ii. p. (macmillan). [ ] fitzgerald was staying with his friends mr. and mrs. w. k. browne. there is no letter other than this one to borrow to recall that visit, which is, however, referred to in the _fitzgerald correspondence_ (works, vol. ii. p. ) by the following sentence:--'when in bedfordshire i put away almost all books except omar khayyám! which i could not help looking over in a paddock covered with buttercups and brushed by a delicious breeze, while a dainty racing filly of browne's came startling up to wonder and to snuff about me.' the 'friend' of the letter was of course mr. w. k. browne, who was more of an open air man than a bookman. [ ] i am indebted to mr. edward heron-allen for the information that this is the original of the last verse but one in fitzgerald's first version of the _rubáiyát_: r . ah moon of my delight, who knowest no wane, the moon of heaven is rising once again, how oft, hereafter rising, shall she look through this same garden after me--in vain. the literal translation is: [persian] since no one will guarantee thee a to-morrow, [persian] make thou happy now this lovesick heart; [persian] drink wine in the moonlight, o moon, for the moon [persian] shall seek us long and shall not find us. [ ] _the works of edward fitzgerald_, vol. ii. p. (macmillan). [ ] _letters of edward fitzgerald_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] _ibid._, vol. iv. p. (macmillan). [ ] first published in _the sphere_, october , . the letter was written to mr. james hooper of norwich. [ ] _works of edward fitzgerald_, vol. ii. p. (macmillan). [ ] published by dr. knapp in _borrow's life_, vol. ii. p. (murray). [ ] we learn from fitzgerald that borrow's eyesight gave way about this time, and his wife had to keep all books from him. [ ] there are two or three references to borrow in _william bodham donne and his friends_, edited by catharine b. johnson (methuen). the most important of these is in a letter from donne to bernard barton, dated from bury st. edmunds, september th, : 'we have had a great man here, and i have been walking with him and aiding him to eat salmon and mutton and drink port--george borrow; and what is more, we fell in with some gypsies and i heard the speech of egypt, which sounded wonderously like a medley of broken spanish and dog latin. borrow's face lighted by the red turf fire of the tent was worth looking at. he is ashy white now, but twenty years ago, when his hair was like a raven's wing, he must have been hard to discriminate from a born bohemian. borrow is best on the tramp, if you can walk four and a half miles per hour--as i can with ease and do by choice--and can walk fifteen of them at a stretch--which i can compass also--then he will talk iliads of adventures even better than his printed ones. he cannot abide those amateur pedestrians who saunter, and in his chair he is given to groan and be contradictory. but on newmarket heath, in rougham woods, he is at home, and specially when he meets with a thorough vagabond like your present correspondent.' in june fitzgerald writes to donne: 'i saw in some _athenæum_ a somewhat contemptuous notice of g. b.'s _rommany lil_ or whatever the name is. i can easily understand that b. should not meddle with _science_ of any sort; but some years ago he would not have liked to be told so; however, old age may have cooled him now.' [ ] mr. robert cooke was a partner in john murray's firm at this time. [ ] it is to be found in dr. knapp's _life_, vol. ii. pp. - . [ ] i have a copy of fitzgerald's. [ ] dr. aldis wright tells me that he did go over to oulton to see mrs. macoubrey, and gave her the best advice he could, but it was neglected. chapter xxxii _wild wales_ the year was an adventurous one in borrow's life, for he, so essentially a celt, as mr. watts-dunton has more than once reminded us,[ ] had in that year two interesting experiences of the 'celtic fringe.' he spent the first months of the year in cornwall, as we have seen, and from july to november he was in wales. that tour he recorded in pencilled notebooks, four of which are in the knapp collection in new york, and are duly referred to in dr. knapp's biography, and two of which are in my possession. in addition to this i have the complete manuscript of _wild wales_ in borrow's handwriting, and many variants of it in countless, carefully written pages. therein lie the possibilities of a singularly interesting edition of _wild wales_ should opportunity offer for its publication. when i examine the manuscript, with its demonstration of careful preparation, i do not wonder that it took borrow eight years--from to --to prepare this book for the press. assuredly we recognise here, as in all his books, that he realised carlyle's definition of genius--'the transcendent capacity of taking trouble--first of all.' [illustration: _wild wales_ in its beginnings. two pages from one of george borrow's pocket-books with pencilled notes made on his journey through wales.] it was on th july that borrow, his wife and her daughter, henrietta clarke, set out on their journey to north wales. dr. knapp prints two kindly letters from mrs. borrow to her mother-in-law written from llangollen on this tour. 'we are in a lovely quiet spot,' she writes, 'dear george goes out exploring the mountains.... the poor here are humble, simple, and good.' in the second letter mrs. borrow records that her husband 'keeps a _daily_ journal of all that goes on, so that he can make a most amusing book in a month.' yet borrow took eight years to make it. the failure of _the romany rye_, which was due for publication before _wild wales_, accounts for this, and perhaps also the disappointment that another book, long since ready, did not find a publisher. in the letter from which i have quoted mary borrow tells anne borrow that her son will, she expects at christmas, publish _the romany rye_, 'together with his poetry in all the european languages.' this last book had been on his hands for many a day, and indeed in _wild wales_ he writes of 'a mountain of unpublished translations' of which this book, duly advertised in _the romany rye_, was a part.[ ] after an ascent of snowdon arm in arm with henrietta, mrs. borrow remaining behind, borrow left his wife and daughter to find their way back to yarmouth, and continued his journey, all of which is most picturesquely described in _wild wales_. before that book was published, however, borrow was to visit the isle of man, scotland, and ireland. he was to publish _lavengro_ ( ); to see his mother die ( ); and to issue his very limited edition of _the sleeping bard_ ( ); and, lastly, to remove to brompton ( ). it was at the end of the year that _wild wales_ was published. it had been written during the two years immediately following the tour in wales, in and . it had been announced as ready for publication in , but doubtless the chilly reception of _the romany rye_ in that year, of which we have written, had made borrow lukewarm as to venturing once more before the public. the public was again irresponsive. _the cornhill magazine_, then edited by thackeray, declared the book to be 'tiresome reading.' the _spectator_ reviewer was more kindly, but nowhere was there any enthusiasm. only a thousand copies were sold,[ ] and a second edition did not appear until , and not another until seven years after borrow's death. yet the author had the encouragement that comes from kindly correspondents. here, for example, is a letter that could not but have pleased him: west hill lodge, highgate, _dec. th, ._ dear sir,--we have had a great christmas pleasure this year--the reading of your _wild wales_, which has taken us so deliciously into the lovely fresh scenery and life of that pleasant mountain-land. my husband and myself made a little walking tour over some of your ground in north wales this year; my daughter and her uncle, richard howitt, did the same; and we have been ourselves collecting material for a work, the scenes of which will be laid amidst some of our and your favourite mountains. but the object of my writing was not to tell you this; but after assuring you of the pleasure your work has given us--to say also that in one respect it has tantalised us. you have told over and over again to fascinated audiences, lope de vega's ghost story, but still leave the poor reader at the end of the book longing to hear it in vain. may i ask you, therefore, to inform us in which of lope de vega's numerous works this same ghost story is to be found? we like ghost stories, and to a certain extent believe in them, we deserve therefore to know the best ghost story in the world: wishing for you, your wife and your henrietta, all the compliments of the season in the best and truest of expression.--i am, dear sir, yours sincerely, mary howitt.[ ] [illustration: facsimile of the title-page of _wild wales_ _from the original manuscript in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle.'_] the reference to lope de vega's ghost story is due to the fact that in the fifty-fifth chapter of _wild wales_, borrow, after declaring that lope de vega was 'one of the greatest geniuses that ever lived,' added, that among his tales may be found 'the best ghost story in the world.' dr. knapp found the story in borrow's handwriting among the manuscripts that came to him, and gives it in full. in good truth it is but moderately interesting, although borrow seems to have told it to many audiences when in wales, but this perhaps provides the humour of the situation. it seems clear that borrow contemplated publishing lope de vega's ghost story in a later book. we note here, indeed, a letter of a much later date in which borrow refers to the possibility of a supplement to _wild wales_, the only suggestion of such a book that i have seen, although there is plenty of new manuscript in my borrow collection to have made such a book possible had borrow been encouraged by his publisher and the public to write it. [illustration: facsimile of the first page of _wild wales_ _from the original manuscript in the possession of the author of 'george borrow and his circle.'_] to j. evan williams, esq. hereford square, brompton, _decr. , ._ dear sir,--i have received your letter and thank you for the kind manner in which you are pleased to express yourself concerning me. now for your questions. with respect to lope de vega's ghost story, i beg to say that i am thinking of publishing a supplement to my _wild wales_ in which, amongst other things, i shall give a full account of the tale and point out where it is to be found. you cannot imagine the number of letters i receive on the subject of that ghost story. with regard to the sclavonian languages, i wish to observe that they are all well deserving of study. the servian and bohemian contain a great many old traditionary songs, and the latter possesses a curious though not very extensive prose literature. the polish has, i may say, been rendered immortal by the writings of mickiewicz, whose 'conrad wallenrod' is probably the most remarkable poem of the present century. the russian, however, is the most important of all the sclavonian tongues, not on account of its literature but because it is spoken by fifty millions of people, it being the dominant speech from the gulf of finland to the frontiers of china. there is a remarkable similarity both in sound and sense between many russian and welsh words, for example 'tcheló' ([russian]) is the russian for forehead, 'tal' is welsh for the same; 'iasnhy' (neuter 'iasnoe') is the russian for clear or radiant, 'iesin' the welsh, so that if it were grammatical in russian to place the adjective after the noun as is the custom in welsh, the welsh compound 'taliesin' (radiant forehead) might be rendered in russian by 'tchel[=o]iasnoe,' which would be wondrously like the welsh name; unfortunately, however, russian grammar would compel any one wishing to russianise 'taliesin' to say not 'tchel[=o]iasnoe' but 'iasnoetchelo.'--yours truly, george borrow. another letter that borrow owed to his _wild wales_ may well have place here. it will be recalled that in his fortieth chapter he waxes enthusiastic over lewis morris, the welsh bard, who was born in anglesey in and died in . morris's great-grandson, sir lewis morris ( - ), the author of the once popular _epic of hades_, was twenty-nine years of age when he wrote to borrow as follows:-- to george borrow, esq. reform club, _dec. , ._ sir,--i have just finished reading your work on _wild wales_, and cannot refrain from writing to thank you for the very lifelike picture of the welsh people, north and south, which, unlike other englishmen, you have managed to give us. to ordinary englishmen the language is of course an insurmountable bar to any real knowledge of the people, and the result is that within six hours of paddington or euston square is a country nibbled at superficially by droves of holiday-makers, but not really better known than asia minor. i wish it were possible to get rid of all obstacles which stand in the way of the development of the welsh people and the welsh intellect. in the meantime every book which like yours tends to lighten the thick darkness which seems to hang round wales deserves the acknowledgments of every true welshman. i am, perhaps, more especially called upon to express my thanks for the very high terms in which you speak of my great-grandfather, lewis morris. i believe you have not said a word more than he deserves. some of the facts which you mention with regard to him were unknown to me, and as i take a very great interest in everything relating to my ancestor i venture to ask you whether you can indicate any source of knowledge with regard to him and his wife, other than those which i have at present--viz. an old number of the _cambrian register_ and some notices of him in the _gentleman's magazine_, - . there is also a letter of his in lord teignmouth's _life of sir william jones_ in which he claims kindred with that great scholar. many of his manuscript poems and much correspondence are now in the library of the british museum, most of them i regret to say a sealed book to one who like myself had yet to learn welsh. but i am not the less anxious to learn all that can be ascertained about my great ancestor. i should say that two of his brothers, richard and william, were eminent welsh scholars. with apologies for addressing you so unceremoniously, and with renewed thanks, i remain, sir, your obedient servant, lewis morris. an interesting letter to borrow from another once popular writer belongs to this period: to george borrow, esq. the 'press' office, strand, westminster, _thursday._ one who has read and delighted in everything mr. borrow has yet published ventures to say how great has been his delight in reading _wild wales_. no philologist or linguist, i am yet an untiring walker and versifier: and really i think that few things are pleasanter than to walk and to versify. also, well do i love good ale, natural drink of the english. if i could envy anything, it is your linguistic faculty, which unlocks to you the hearts of the unknown races of these islands--unknown, i mean, as to their real feelings and habits, to ordinary englishmen--and your still higher faculty of describing your adventures in the purest and raciest english of the day. i send you a danish daily journal, which you may not have seen. once a week it issues articles in english. how beautiful (but of course not new to you) is the legend of queen dagmar, given in this number! a noble race, the danes: glad am i to see their blood about to refresh that which runs in the royal veins of england. sorry and ashamed to see a russell bullying and insulting them. mortimer collins.[ ] how greatly borrow was disappointed at the comparative failure of _wild wales_ may be gathered from a curt message to his publisher which i find among his papers: mr. borrow has been applied to by a country bookseller, who is desirous of knowing why there is not another edition of _wild wales_, as he cannot procure a copy of the book, for which he receives frequent orders. that it was not published in a cheap form as soon as the edition of was exhausted has caused much surprise. borrow, it will be remembered, left wales at chepstow, as recorded in the hundred and ninth and final chapter of _wild wales_, 'where i purchased a first class ticket, and ensconcing myself in a comfortable carriage, was soon on my way to london, where i arrived at about four o'clock in the morning.' in the following letter to his wife there is a slight discrepancy, of no importance, as to time: to mrs. george borrow a pall mall, london. dear wife carreta,--i arrived here about five o'clock this morning--time i saw you. i have walked about miles. i walked the whole way from the north to the south--then turning to the east traversed glamorganshire and the county of monmouth, and came out at chepstow. my boots were worn up by the time i reached swansea, and was obliged to get them new soled and welted. i have seen wonderful mountains, waterfalls, and people. on the other side of the black mountains i met a cartload of gypsies; they were in a dreadful rage and were abusing the country right and left. my last ninety miles proved not very comfortable, there was so much rain. pray let me have some money by monday as i am nearly without any, as you may well suppose, for i was three weeks on my journey. i left you on a thursday, and reached chepstow yesterday, thursday, evening. i hope you, my mother, and hen. are well. i have seen murray and cooke.--god bless you, yours, george borrow. (keep this.) before borrow put the finishing touches to _wild wales_ he repeated his visit of . this was in , the year of _the romany rye_. dr. knapp records the fact through a letter to mr. john murray from shrewsbury, in which he discusses the possibility of a second edition of _the romany rye_: 'i have lately been taking a walk in wales of upwards of five hundred miles,' he writes. this tour lasted from august rd to october th. i find four letters to his wife that were written in this holiday. he does not seem to have made any use of this second tour in his _wild wales_, although i have abundance of manuscript notes upon it in my possession. to mrs. george borrow tenby, _tuesday, ._ my dear carreta,--since writing to you i have been rather unwell and was obliged to remain two days at sandypool. the weather has been horribly hot and affected my head and likewise my sight slightly; moreover one of the shoes hurt my foot. i came to this place to-day and shall presently leave it for pembroke on my way back. i shall write to you from there. i shall return by cardigan. what i want you to do is to write to me directed to the post office, cardigan (in cardiganshire), and either inclose a post office order for five pounds or an order from lloyd and co. on the banker of that place for the same sum; but at any rate write or i shall not know what to do. i would return by railroad, but in that event i must go to london, for there are no railroads from here to shrewsbury. i wish moreover to see a little more. just speak to the banker and don't lose any time. send letter, and either order in it, or say that i can get it at the bankers. i hope all is well. god bless you and hen. george borrow. to mrs. george borrow trecastle, brecknockshire, south wales, _august th._ dear carreta,--i write to you a few words from this place; to-morrow i am going to llandovery and from there to carmarthen; for the first three or four days i had dreadful weather. i got only to worthen the first day, twelve miles--on the next to montgomery, and so on. it is now very hot, but i am very well, much better than at shrewsbury. i hope in a few days to write to you again, and soon to be back to you. god bless you and hen. g. borrow. to mrs. george borrow lampeter, _ rd september ._ my dear carreta,--i am making the best of my way to shrewsbury (my face is turned towards mama). i write this from lampeter, where there is a college for educating clergymen intended for wales, which i am going to see. i shall then start for badnor by tregaron, and hope soon to be in england. i have seen an enormous deal since i have been away, and have walked several hundred miles. amongst other places i have seen st. david's, a wonderful half ruinous cathedral on the s. western end of pembrokeshire, but i shall be glad to get back. god bless you and hen. george borrow. henrietta! do you know who is handsome? to mrs. george borrow presteyne, radnorshire, _monday morning._ dear carreta,--i am just going to start for ludlow, and hope to be at shrewsbury on tuesday night if not on monday morning. god bless you and hen. g. borrow. when i get back i shall have walked more than miles. in _wild wales_ we have george borrow in his most genial mood. there are none of the hairbreadth escapes and grim experiences of _the bible in spain_, none of the romance and the glamour of _lavengro_ and its sequel, but there is good humour, a humour that does not obtain in the three more important works, and there is an amazing amount of frank candour of a biographical kind. we even have a reference to isopel berners, referred to by captain bosvile as 'the young woman you used to keep company with ... a fine young woman and a virtuous.' it is the happiest of borrow's books, and not unnaturally. he was having a genuine holiday, and he had the companionship during a part of it of his wife and daughter, of whom he was, as this book is partly written to prove, very genuinely fond. he also enjoyed the singularly felicitous experience of harking back upon some of his earliest memories. he was able to retrace the steps he took in the welsh language during his boyhood: that night i sat up very late reading the life of twm o'r nant, written by himself in choice welsh.... the life i had read in my boyhood in an old welsh magazine, and i now read it again with great zest, and no wonder, as it is probably the most remarkable autobiography ever penned. it is in this ecstatic mood that he passes through wales. let me recall the eulogy on 'gronwy' owen, and here it may be said that borrow rarely got his spelling correct of the proper names of his various literary heroes, in the various norse and celtic tongues in which he delighted.[ ] but how much borrow delighted in his poets may be seen by his eulogy on goronwy owen, which in its pathos recalls carlyle's similar eulogies over poor german scholars who interested him, jean paul richter and heyne, for example. borrow ignored owen's persistent intemperance and general impracticability. here and here only, indeed, does he remind one of carlyle.[ ] he had a great capacity for hero-worship, although the two were not interested in the same heroes. his hero-worship of owen took him over large tracks of country in search of that poet's birthplace. he writes of the delight he takes in inspecting the birth-places and haunts of poets. 'it is because i am fond of poetry, poets, and their haunts, that i am come to anglesey.'[ ] 'i proceeded on my way,' he says elsewhere, 'in high spirits indeed, having now seen not only the tomb of the tudors, but one of those sober poets for which anglesey has always been so famous.' and thus it is that _wild wales_ is a high-spirited book, which will always be a delight and a joy not only to welshmen, who, it may be hoped, have by this time forgiven 'the ecclesiastical cat' of llangollen, but to all who rejoice in the great classics of the english tongue. footnotes: [ ] 'not one drop of east anglian blood was in the veins of borrow's father, and very little in the veins of his mother. borrow's ancestry was pure cornish on one side, and on the other mainly french.'--theodore watts-dunton: introduction to _the romany rye_ (ward and lock). [ ] the advertisement describes it thus: 'in two volumes, _songs of europe: or metrical translations from all the european languages; with brief prefatory remarks on each language and its literature_.' [ ] _wild wales: its people, language, and scenery_. by george borrow. vols. john murray, . [ ] mary botham ( - ) was born at coleford, gloucestershire, and married william howitt in . the pair compiled many books together. the statement in the _dictionary of national biography_ that 'nothing that either of them wrote will live' is quite unwarranted. william howitt's _homes and haunts of the most eminent british poets_ (bentley, vols., ) is still eagerly sought after for every good library. in _mary howitt: an autobiography_ (isbister, vols., ), a valuable book of reminiscences, there is no mention of borrow. [ ] edward james mortimer collins ( - ), once bore the title of 'king of the bohemians' among his friends; wrote _sweet and twenty_ and many other novels once widely popular. [ ] goronwy or gronow owen ( - ), born at rhos fawr in anglesey, and died at st. andrews, brunswick county, virginia. [ ] borrow had at many points certain affinities to carlyle's hero johnson, but lacked his epigrammatic wit--and much else. but he seems to have desired to emulate johnson in one particular, as we find in the following dialogue:-- 'i wouldn't go on foot there this night for fifty pounds.' 'why not?' said i. 'for fear of being knocked down by the colliers, who will be all out and drunk.' 'if not more than two attack me,' said i, 'i shan't so much mind. with this book i am sure i can knock down one, and i think i can find play for the other with my fists.' [ ] when searching for the home of goronwy owen borrow records a meeting with one of his descendants--a little girl of seven or eight years of age, named ellen jones, who in recent years has been interviewed as to her impressions of borrow's visit. 'he did speak _funny_ welsh,' she says, '... he could not pronounce the "ll." 'he had plenty of words, but bad pronunciation.'--herbert jenkins: _life of borrow_, p. . but borrow in _wild wales_ frequently admits his imperfect acquaintance with spoken welsh. chapter xxxiii life in london, - george borrow's earlier visits to london are duly recorded, with that glamour of which he was a master, in the pages of _lavengro_. who can cross london bridge even to-day without thinking of the apple-woman and her copy of _moll flanders_; and many passages of borrow's great book make a very special appeal to the lover of london. then there was that visit to the bible society's office made on foot from norwich, and the expedition a few months later to pass an examination in the manchu language. when he became a country squire and the author of the very successful _bible in spain_ borrow frequently visited london, and his various residences may be traced from his letters. take, for example, these five notes to his wife, the first apparently written in , but all undated: to mrs. george borrow _tuesday afternoon._ my dear wife,--i just write you a line to tell you that i am tolerably well as i hope you are. every thing is in confusion abroad. the french king has disappeared and will probably never be heard of, though they are expecting him in england. funds are down nearly to eighty. the government have given up the income tax and people are very glad of it. _i am not._ with respect to the funds, if i were to sell out i should not know what to do with the money. j. says they will rise. i do not think they will, they may, however, fluctuate a little.--keep up your spirits, my heart's dearest, and kiss old hen. for me. g. b. to mrs. george borrow _a_, pall mall. dear wife carreta,--i write you a line as i suppose you will be glad to have one. i dine to-night with murray and cooke, and we are going to talk over about _the sleeping bard_; both are very civil. i have been reading hard at the museum and have lost no time. yesterday i went to greenwich to see the leviathan. it is almost terrible to look at, and seems too large for the river. it resembles a floating town--the paddle is feet high. a tall man can stand up in the funnel as it lies down. 'tis sad, however, that money is rather scarce. i walked over blackheath and thought of poor dear mrs. watson. i have just had a note from fitzgerald. we have had some rain but not very much. london is very gloomy in rainy weather. i was hoping that i should have a letter from you this morning. i hope you and hen. have been well.--god bless you, george borrow. to mrs. george borrow pall mall, _ a, saturday._ dear carreta,--i am thinking of coming to you on thursday. i do not know that i can do anything more here, and the dulness of the weather and the mists are making me ill. please to send another five pound note by tuesday morning. i have spent scarcely anything of that which you sent except what i owe to mrs. w., but i wish to have money in my pocket, and murray and cooke are going to dine with me on tuesday; i shall be glad to be with you again, for i am very much in want of your society. i miss very much my walks at llangollen by the quiet canal; but what's to be done? everything seems nearly at a standstill in london, on account of this wretched war, at which it appears to me the english are getting the worst, notwithstanding their boasting. they thought to settle it in an autumn's day; they little knew the russians, and they did not reflect that just after autumn comes winter, which has ever been the russians' friend. have you heard anything about the rent of the cottage? i should have been glad to hear from you this morning. give my love to hen. and may god bless you, dear. (keep this.) george borrow. to mrs. george borrow no. _a_ pall mall. dear carreta,--i hope you received my last letter written on tuesday. i am glad that i came to london. i find myself much the better for having done so. i was going on in a very spiritless manner. everybody i have met seems very kind and glad to see me. murray seems to be thoroughly staunch. cooke, to whom i mentioned the f.t., says that murray was delighted with the idea, and will be very glad of the th of _lavengro_. i am going to dine with murray to-day, thursday. w. called upon me to-day. i wish you would send me a blank cheque, in a letter so that if i want money i may be able to draw for a little. i shall not be long from home, but now i am here i wish to do all that's necessary. if you send me a blank cheque, i suppose w. or murray would give me the money. i hope you got my last letter. i received yours, and cooke has just sent the two copies of _lavengro_ you wrote for, and i believe some engravings of the picture. i shall wish to return by the packet if possible, and will let you know when i am coming. i hope to write again shortly to tell you some more news. how is mother and hen., and how are all the creatures? i hope all well. i trust you like all i propose--now i am here i want to get two or three things, to go to the museum, and to arrange matters. god bless you. love to mother and hen. george borrow. to mrs. george borrow no. jermyn street, st. james. dear carreta,--i got here safe, and upon the whole had not so bad a journey as might be expected. i put up at the spread eagle for the night for i was tired and _hungry_; have got into my old lodgings as you see, those on the second floor, they are very nice ones, with every convenience; they are expensive, it is true, but they are _cheerful_, which is a grand consideration for me. i have as yet seen nobody, for it is only now a little past eleven. i can scarcely at present tell you what my plans are, perhaps to-morrow i shall write again. kiss hen., and god bless you. g. b. it was in the year that borrow, on a visit to london following upon the success of _the bible in spain_, sat to henry wyndham phillips for his portrait at the instigation of mr. murray, who gave borrow a replica, retaining for himself phillips's more finished picture, which has been reproduced again and again in the present mr. murray's borrow productions.[ ] borrow was in london in and again in . there must have been other occasional visits on the way to this or that starting point of his annual holiday, but in borrow took a house in london, and he resided there until , when he returned to oulton. in a letter to mr. john murray, written from ireland in november , mrs. borrow writes to the effect that in the spring of the following year she will wish to look round 'and select a pleasant holiday residence within three to ten miles of london.' there is no doubt that a succession of winters on oulton broad had been very detrimental to mrs. borrow's health, although they had no effect upon borrow, who bathed there with equal indifference in winter as in summer, having, as he tells us in _wild wales_, 'always had the health of an elephant.' and so borrow and his wife arrived in london in june, and took temporary lodgings at montagu street, portman square. in september they went into occupation of a house in brompton-- hereford square, which is now commemorated by a county council tablet. here borrow resided for fourteen years, and here his wife died on january , . she was buried in brompton cemetery, where borrow was laid beside her twelve years later. for neighbour, on the one side, the borrows had mr. robert collinson and, on the other, miss frances power cobbe and her companion, miss m. c. lloyd. from miss cobbe we have occasional glimpses of borrow, all of them unkindly. she was of irish extraction, her father having been grandson of charles cobbe, archbishop of dublin. miss cobbe was an active woman in all kinds of journalistic and philanthropic enterprises in the london of the 'seventies and 'eighties of the last century, writing in particular in the now defunct newspaper, the _echo_, and she wrote dozens of books and pamphlets, all of them forgotten except her _autobiography_,[ ] in which she devoted several pages to her neighbour in hereford square. borrow had no sympathy with fanatical women with many 'isms,' and the pair did not agree, although many neighbourly courtesies passed between them for a time. here is an extract from miss cobbe's _autobiography_: george borrow, who, if he were not a gypsy by blood, _ought_ to have been one, was for some years our near neighbour in hereford square. my friend[ ] was amused by his quaint stories and his (real or sham) enthusiasm for wales, and cultivated his acquaintance. i never liked him, thinking him more or less of a hypocrite. his missions, recorded in _the bible in spain_, and his translations of the scriptures into the out-of-the-way tongues, for which he had a gift, were by no means consonant with his real opinions concerning the veracity of the said bible. one only needs to quote this by the light of the story as told so far in these pages to see how entirely miss cobbe misunderstood borrow, or rather how little insight she was able to bring to a study of his curious character. the rest of her attempt at interpretation is largely taken up to demonstrate how much more clever and more learned she was than borrow. altogether it is a sorry spectacle this of the pseudo-philanthropist relating her conversations with a man broken by misfortune and the death of his wife. many of miss cobbe's statements have passed into current biographies and have doubtless found acceptance.[ ] i do not find them convincing. archdeacon whately on the other hand tells us that he always found borrow 'most civil and hospitable,' and his sister gives us the following 'impression': when mr. borrow returned from this spanish journey, which had been full, as we all know, of most entertaining adventures, related with much liveliness and spirit by himself, he was regarded as a kind of 'lion' in the literary circles of london. when we first saw him it was at the house of a lady who took great pleasure in gathering 'celebrities' in various ways around her, and our party was struck with the appearance of this renowned traveller--a tall, thin, spare man with prematurely white hair and intensely dark eyes, as he stood upright against the wall of one of the drawing-rooms and received the homage of lion-hunting guests, and listened in silence to their unsuccessful attempts to make him talk.'[ ] another reminiscence of borrow in london is furnished by mr. a. t. story, who writes:[ ] i had the pleasure of meeting borrow on several occasions in london some forty years ago. i cannot be quite certain of the year, but i think it was either in or ' . i saw him first in james burns's publishing office in southampton row. i happened to call just as a tall, strongly-built man with an unforgettable face was leaving. when he had gone, mr. burns asked: 'do you know who that gentleman was?' and when i said i did not, he said: 'he is the man whose book, _the bible in spain_, i saw you take down from the shelf there the other day and read.' 'what, george borrow?' i exclaimed. he nodded, and then said borrow had called several times. a few days later i had an opportunity of making the good man's acquaintance and hearing a conversation between him and mr. burns. they talked about spiritualism, with which borrow had very little patience, though, after some talk he consented to attend a séance to be held that evening in burns's drawing-room. we sat together, and i had the pleasure of hearing from time to time his grunts of disapproval. when the discourse--'in trance'--was over, he asked me if i believed in 'this sort of thing,' and when i said i was simply an investigator he remarked, 'that's all right, i, too, am an investigator--of things in general--and it would not take me long to sum up that little man (the medium) as a humbug, but a very clever humbug.' that evening i had a long walk and a talk with him, and after that several other opportunities of talk, the last being one night when i chanced upon him on westminster bridge. it was a superb starlight night, and he was standing about midway over the bridge gazing down into the river. when i approached him he said: 'i have been standing here for twenty minutes looking round and meditating. there is not another city like this in the world, nor another bridge like this, nor a river, nor a parliament house like that--with its little men making little laws--which the lawgiver that made yonder stars--look at them!--is continually confounding--and will confound. o, we little men! how long before we are dust? and the stars there, how they smile at our puny lives and tricks--here to-day, gone to-morrow. and yet to-night how glorious it is to be here!' so he rhapsodised. and then it was, 'where can we get a bite and sup? i've been footing it all day among the hills there--the surrey hills--for a breath of fresh air.' in appearance, at the time i knew him, borrow was neither thin nor stout, but well proportioned and apparently of great strength. during this sojourn in london, which was undertaken because oulton and yarmouth did not agree with his wife, borrow suffered the tragedy of her loss. borrow dragged on his existence in london for another five years, a much broken man. it is extraordinary how little we know of borrow during that fourteen years' sojourn in london; how rarely we meet him in the literary memoirs of this period. happily one or two pleasant friendships relieved the sadness of his days; and in particular the reminiscences of walter theodore watts-dunton assist us to a more correct appreciation of the borrow of these last years of london life. of mr. watts-dunton's 'memories,' we shall write in our next chapter. here it remains only to note that borrow still continued to interest himself in his various efforts at translation, and in and the editor of _once a week_ printed various ballads and stories from his pen. the volumes of this periodical are before me, and i find illustrations by sir john millais, sir e. j. poynter, simeon solomon and george du maurier; stories by mrs. henry wood and harriet martineau, and articles by walter thornbury. in _wild wales_ was published, as we have seen. in henrietta married william macoubrey, and in the following year, borrow and his wife went to visit the pair in their belfast home. in the beginning of the year mrs. borrow died, aged seventy-three. there are few records of the tragedy that are worth perpetuating.[ ] borrow consumed his own smoke. with his wife's death his life was indeed a wreck. no wonder he was so 'rude' to that least perceptive of women, miss cobbe. some four or five years more borrow lingered on in london, cheered at times by walks and talks with gordon hake and watts-dunton, and he then returned to oulton--a most friendless man:-- what land has let the dreamer from its gates, what face belovèd hides from him away? a dreamer outcast from some world of dreams, he goes for ever lonely on his way. like a great pine upon some alpine height, torn by the winds and bent beneath the snow half overthrown by icy avalanche, the lone of soul throughout the world must go. alone among his kind he stands alone, torn by the passions of his own strange heart, stoned by continual wreckage of his dreams, he in the crowd for ever is apart. like the great pine that, rocking no sweet rest, swings no young birds to sleep upon the bough, but where the raven only comes to croak-- 'there lives no man more desolate than thou!' footnotes: [ ] the frontispiece to the present volume is from the replica in the possession of borrow's executor, who has kindly permitted me to have it photographed for the purpose. there are slight and interesting variations from mr. murray's portrait. phillips ( - ), the artist of these pictures, is often confused with his father, thomas ( - ), the royal academician and a much superior painter, who, by the way, painted many portraits of authors for mr. john murray. henry phillips was never an r.a. a letter from phillips to borrow in my possession shows that he visited the latter at oulton. the portrait of borrow is pronounced by henry dalrymple, his schoolfellow, from whose manuscript we have already quoted, to be 'very like him.' this fact is the more remarkable as the only photograph of borrow that is known, one taken in a group with mrs. simms reeve of norwich in --five years later--has many points of difference. the reader will here be able to compare the two portraits in this book. a third portrait of borrow--a crude painting by his brother john taken in his early years, is now in the london national portrait gallery. [ ] _life of frances power cobbe as told by herself_. with additions by the writer and introduction by blanche atkinson. vols., . frances power cobbe was born in dublin in , and died at hengwrt in . [ ] miss lloyd, who was a welshwoman. miss cobbe lived with her and was doubtless a jealous woman. there are many kindly letters from miss lloyd to borrow in my collection. she seems always to be anxious to invite him to her house. [ ] about three months before her death miss cobbe replied to an inquiry made by mr. james hooper of norwich concerning her estimate of borrow. as it is all but certain that borrow was never intoxicated in his life, we may find the letter of interest only as giving a point of view: 'hengwrt, dolgelley, n. wales, _jan_. , . 'i can have no objection to your asking me if my little sketch of george borrow in my _life_ is my _dernier mot_ about him. if i were to give my _dernier mot_, it would be much more to his disadvantage than anything i liked to insert in my biography. i see his american biographer has accused me of 'bitterness.' i do not think that what is contained in my book is 'bitter' at all. but if i were to have told my last interview with him,--when i was driven practically to drive him out of our house, more or less drunk, or mad with some opiate--the charge might have had some colour. he was not a good man, and not a true or honourable one, by any manner of means.' here assuredly we miss the fine charity which led goethe's friend, the duchess of weimar, to urge that there was a special moral law for poets. not for one moment does it occur to miss cobbe that her neighbour was a man of genius who had written four imperishable contributions to english literature. to her he was merely a conceited, brusque old man. concerning the adage that 'no man is a hero to his valet,' well may carlyle remark that that is more often the fault of the valet than of the hero. [ ] _personal and family glimpses of remarkable people_. by edward w. whately. london: hodder and stoughton, . [ ] london _daily chronicle_, july , . [ ] there is an interview between borrow and his wife's medical attendant, dr. playfair, recorded in herbert jenkins's _life_, that is full of poignancy. chapter xxxiv friends of later years we should know little enough of george borrow's later years, were it not for his friendship with thomas gordon hake and theodore watts-dunton. hake was born in and died in . in he settled at bury st. edmunds as a physician, and he resided there until . here he was frequently visited by the borrows. we have already quoted his prophecy concerning _lavengro_ that 'its roots will strike deep into the soil of english letters.' in dr. hake and his family left bury for the united states, where they resided for some years. returning to england they lived at roehampton and met borrow occasionally in london. during these years hake was, according to mr. w. m. rossetti, 'the earthly providence of the rossetti family,' but he was not, as his _memoirs_ show, equally devoted to borrow. in , however, he went to live in germany and italy for a considerable period. concerning the relationship between borrow and hake, mr. watts-dunton has written: after hake went to live in germany, borrow told me a good deal about their intimacy, and also about his own early life: for, reticent as he naturally was, he and i got to be confidential and intimate. his friendship with hake began when hake was practising as a physician in norfolk. it lasted during the greater part of borrow's later life. when borrow was living in london his great delight was to walk over on sundays from hereford square to coombe end, call upon hake, and take a stroll with him over richmond park. they both had a passion for herons and for deer. at that time hake was a very intimate friend of my own, and having had the good fortune to be introduced by him to borrow i used to join the two in their walks. afterwards, when hake went to live in germany, i used to take those walks with borrow alone. two more interesting men it would be impossible to meet. the remarkable thing was that there was between them no sort of intellectual sympathy. in style, in education, in experience, whatever hake was, borrow was not. borrow knew almost nothing of hake's writings, either in prose or in verse. his ideal poet was pope, and when he read, or rather looked into, hake's _world's epitaph_, he thought he did hake the greatest honour by saying, 'there are lines here and there that are nigh as good as pope'! on the other hand, hake's acquaintance with borrow's works was far behind that of some borrovians who did not know lavengro in the flesh, such as saintsbury and mr. birrell. borrow was shy, angular, eccentric, rustic in accent and in locution, but with a charm for me, at least, that was irresistible. hake was polished, easy and urbane in everything, and, although not without prejudice and bias, ready to shine generally in any society. so far as hake was concerned the sole link between them was that of reminiscence of earlier days and adventures in borrow's beloved east anglia. among many proofs i would adduce of this i will give one. i am the possessor of the ms. of borrow's _gypsies of spain_, written partly in a spanish notebook as he moved about spain in his colporteur days. it was my wish that hake would leave behind him some memorial of borrow more worthy of himself and his friend than those brief reminiscences contained in _memoirs of eighty years_. i took to hake this precious relic of _one of the most wonderful men of the nineteenth century_, in order to discuss with him differences between the ms. and the printed text. hake was writing in his invalid chair,--writing verses. 'what does it all matter?' he said. 'i do not think you understand lavengro,' i said. hake replied, 'and yet lavengro had an advantage over me, for _he_ understood _nobody_. every individuality with which he was brought into contact had, as no one knows better than you, to be tinged with colours of his own before he could see it at all.' that, of course, was true enough; and hake's asperities when speaking of borrow in _memoirs of eighty years_,--asperities which have vexed a good many borrovians,--simply arose from the fact that it was impossible for two such men to understand each other. when i told him of mr. lang's angry onslaught upon borrow in his notes to the _waverley novels_, on account of his attacks upon scott, he said, 'well, does he not deserve it?' when i told him of miss cobbe's description of borrow as a _poseur_, he said to me, 'i told you the same scores of times. but i saw borrow had bewitched you during that first walk under the rainbow in richmond park. it was that rainbow, i think, that befooled you.' borrow's affection for hake, however, was both strong and deep, as i saw after hake had gone to germany and in a way dropped out of borrow's ken. yet hake was as good a man as ever borrow was, and for certain others with whom he was brought in contact as full of a genuine affection as borrow was himself.[ ] mr. watts-dunton refers here to hake's asperities when speaking of borrow. they are very marked in the _memoirs of eighty years_, and nearly all the stories of borrow's eccentricities that have been served up to us by borrow's biographers are due to hake. it is here we read of his snub to thackeray. 'have you read my snob papers in _punch_?' thackeray asked him. 'in _punch_?' borrow replied. 'it is a periodical i never look at.' he was equally rude, or shall we say johnsonian, according to hake, when miss agnes strickland asked him if she might send him her _queens of england_. he exclaimed, 'for god's sake don't, madam; i should not know where to put them or what to do with them.' hake is responsible also for that other story about the woman who, desirous of pleasing him, said, 'oh, mr. borrow, i have read your books with so much pleasure!' on which he exclaimed, 'pray, what books do you mean, madam? do you mean my account books?'[ ] dr. johnson was guilty of many such vagaries, and the readers of boswell have forgiven him everything because they are conveyed to them through the medium of a hero-worshipper. borrow never had a boswell, and despised the literary class so much that he never found anything in the shape of an apologist until he had been long dead. the most competent of these, because writing from personal knowledge, was walter theodore watts-dunton, who is known in literature as theodore watts, the author of _aylwin_ and _the coming of love_, and the writer of many acute and picturesque criticisms. mr. watts-dunton--who added his mother's name of dunton to his own in later life--was the son of a solicitor of st. ives in huntingdonshire. in early life he was himself a solicitor, which profession he happily abandoned for literature. his friendship with algernon charles swinburne is one of the romances of the victorian era. his affectionate solicitude doubtless kept that great poet alive for many a year beyond what would otherwise have been his lot. watts-dunton was, as we have seen, introduced to borrow by hake. he has written a romance which, if he could be persuaded to publish it, would doubtless command the same attention as _aylwin_, in which borrow is introduced as 'dereham' and hake as 'gordon,' and here he tells the story of that introduction: one day when i was sitting with him in his delightful home, near roehampton, whose windows at the back looked over richmond park, and in front over the wildest part of wimbledon common, one of his sons came in and said that he had seen dereham striding across the common, evidently bound for the house. 'dereham,' i said, 'is there a man in the world i should so like to see as dereham?' and then i told gordon how i had seen him years before swimming in the sea off yarmouth, but had never spoken to him. 'why do you want so much to see him?' asked gordon. 'well, among other things, i want to see if he is a true child of the open air.'[ ] i find no letter from hake to borrow among my papers, but three to his wife: bury st. edmunds, _jan. , ' . evening._ my dear mrs. borrow,--it gave me great pleasure, as it always does, to see your handwriting; and as respects the subject of your note you may make yourself quite easy, for i believe the idea has crossed no other mind than your own. how sorry i am to learn that you have been so unwell since your visit to us. i hope that by care you will get strong during this bracing weather. i wish that you were already nearer to us, and cannot resign the hope that we shall yet enjoy the happiness of having you as our neighbours. i have felt a strong friendship for mr. borrow's mind for many years, and have ardently wished from time to time to know him, and to have realised my desire i consider one of the most happy events of my life. until lately, dear mrs. borrow, i have had no opportunity of knowing you and your sweet simple-hearted child; but now i hope nothing will occur to interrupt a regard and friendship which i and mrs. hake feel most truly towards you all. tell mr. borrow how much we should like to be his sinbad. i wish he would bring you all and his papers and come again to look about him. there is an old hall at tostock, which, i hear to-day, is quite dry; if so it is worthy of your attention. it is a mile from the elmswell station, which is ten minutes' time from bury. this hall has got a bad name from having been long vacant, but some friends of mine have been over it and they tell me there is not a damp spot on the premises. it is seven miles from bury. mrs. hake has written about a house at rougham, but had no answer. the cottage at farnham is to let again. i know not whether mr. harvey will make an effort for it. a little change would do you all good, and we can receive miss clarke without any difficulty. give our kindest regards to your party, and believe me, dear mrs. borrow, sincerely yours, t. g. hake. bury st. edmunds, _january th, ' ._ my dear mrs. borrow,--the sight of your handwriting is always a luxury--but you say nothing about coming to see us. we are pleased to get good accounts of your party, and only wish you could report better of yourself. i must take you fairly in hand when you come again to the ancient quarters, for such they are becoming now from your long absence. you might try bismuth and extract of hop, which is often very strengthening to the stomach. five grains of extract of hop and five grains of trisnitrate of bismuth made into two pills, which are to be taken at eleven and repeated at four--daily. i am so pleased to learn that miss clarke is better, as well as mr. borrow. i hope that on some occasion, the morphia may be of great comfort to him should his night watchings return. it is good news that the proofs are advancing--i hope towards a speedy end. messrs. oakes and co.'s bank is as safe as any in the kingdom and more substantial than any in this county. it must be safe, for the partners are men of large property, and of careful habits. i am happy to say we are all well here, but my brother's house in town is a scene of sad trouble. he is himself laid up with bad scarlet fever as well as five children, all severely attacked. one they have lost of this fearful complaint. give our kindest regards to mr. borrow and accept them yourselves. ever, dear mrs. borrow, sincerely yours, t. g. hake. i send beethoven's epitaph for miss clarke's album according to promise. it is _not_ by wordsworth. bury st. edmunds, _june , ' ._ my dear mrs. borrow,--i am very sorry to hear that you are not feeling strong, and that these flushes of heat are so frequent and troublesome. i will prescribe a medicine for you which i hope may prove serviceable. let me hear again about your health, and be assured you cannot possibly give me any trouble. i am also glad to hear of mr. borrow. i envy him his bath. i am looking out anxiously for the new quarterly reviews. i wonder whether the _quarterly_ will contain anything. is there a prospect of vol. iv.? i really look to passing a day and two half days with you, and to bringing mrs. hake to your classic soil some time in august--if we are not inconveniencing you in your charming and snug cottage. i hope miss clarke is well. our united kind regards to you all. george is quite brisk and saucy--lucy and the infant have not been well. mrs. hake has better accounts from bath. believe me, dear mrs. borrow, very sincerely yours, t. g. hake. mr. donne was pleased that mr. borrow liked his notice in _tait_. you can take a little cold sherry and water after your dinner. mr. a. egmont hake, one of dr. hake's sons, has also given us an interesting reminiscence of borrow:[ ] though he was a friend of my family before he wrote _lavengro_, few men have ever made so deep an impression on me as george borrow. his tall, broad figure, his stately bearing, his fine brown eyes, so bright yet soft, his thick white hair, his oval, beardless face, his loud rich voice, and bold heroic air, were such as to impress the most indifferent of lookers-on. added to this there was something not easily forgotten in the manner in which he would unexpectedly come to our gates, singing some gipsy song, and as suddenly depart. his conversation, too, was unlike that of any other man; whether he told a long story or only commented on some ordinary topic, he was always quaint, often humorous.... it was at oulton that the author of _the bible in spain_ spent his happiest days. the _ménage_ in his suffolk home was conducted with great simplicity, but he always had for his friends a bottle or two of wine of rare vintage, and no man was more hearty than he over the glass. he passed his mornings in his summer-house, writing on small scraps of paper, and these he handed to his wife who copied them on foolscap. it was in this way and in this retreat that the manuscript of _lavengro_ as well as of _the bible in spain_ was prepared, the place of which he says, 'i hastened to my summer-house by the side of the lake and there i thought and wrote, and every day i repaired to the same place and thought and wrote until i had finished _the bible in spain_.' in this outdoor studio, hung behind the door, were a soldier's coat and a sword which belonged to his father; these were household gods on which he would often gaze while composing. to mr. watts-dunton we owe by far the best description of borrow's personal appearance: what borrow lacked in adaptability was in great degree compensated by his personal appearance. no one who has ever walked with him, either through the streets of london or along the country roads, could fail to remark how his appearance arrested the attention of the passers-by. as a gypsy woman once remarked to the present writer, 'everybody as ever see'd the white-headed romany rye never forgot him.' when he chanced to meet troops marching along a country road, it was noticeable that every soldier, whether on foot or horseback, would involuntarily turn to look at borrow's striking figure. he stood considerably above six feet in height, was built as perfectly as a greek statue, and his practice of athletic exercises gave his every movement the easy elasticity of an athlete under training. those east anglians who have bathed with him on the east coast, or others who have done the same in the thames or the ouse, can vouch for his having been an almost faultless model of masculine symmetry, even as an old man. with regard to his countenance, 'noble' is the only word which can be used to describe it. when he was quite a young man his thick crop of hair had become of a silvery whiteness.[ ] there was a striking relation between the complexion, which was as luminous and sometimes rosy as an english girl's, and the features--almost perfect roman-greek in type, with a dash of hebrew. to the dark lustre of the eyes an increased intensity was lent by the fair skin. no doubt, however, what most struck the observer was the marked individuality, not to say singularity, of his expression. if it were possible to describe this expression in a word or two, it might, perhaps, be called a self-consciousness that was both proud and shy.[ ] here is another picture by mr. watts-dunton of this london period:[ ] at seventy years of age, after breakfasting at eight o'clock in hereford square, he would walk to putney, meet one or more of us at roehampton, roam about wimbledon and richmond park with us, bathe in the fen ponds with a north-east wind cutting across the icy water like a razor, run about the grass afterwards, like a boy to shake off some of the water-drops, stride about the park for hours, and then, after fasting for twelve hours, eat a dinner at roehampton that would have done sir walter scott's eyes good to see. finally, he would walk back to hereford square, getting home late at night. and if the physique of the man was bracing, his conversation, unless he happened to be suffering from one of his occasional fits of depression, was still more so. its freshness, raciness, and eccentric whim no pen could describe. there is a kind of humour, the delight of which is that while you smile at the pictures it draws, you smile quite as much to think that there is a mind so whimsical, crotchety, and odd as to draw them. this was the humour of borrow. and there is yet another description, equally illuminating, in which mr. watts-dunton records how he won borrow's heart by showing a familiarity with douglas jerrold's melodrama _ambrose gwinett_: from that time i used to see borrow often at roehampton, sometimes at putney, and sometimes, but not often, in london. i could have seen much more of him than i did had not the whirlpool of london, into which i plunged for a time, borne me away from this most original of men; and this is what i so greatly lament now: for of borrow it may be said, as it was said of a greater man still, that 'after nature made _him_ she forthwith broke the mould.' the last time i ever saw him was shortly before he left london to live in the country. it was, i remember well, on waterloo bridge, where i had stopped to gaze at a sunset of singular and striking splendour, whose gorgeous clouds and ruddy mists were reeling and boiling over the west-end. borrow came up and stood leaning over the parapet, entranced by the sight, as well he might be. like most people born in flat districts, he had a passion for sunsets. turner could not have painted that one, i think, and certainly my pen could not describe it; for the london smoke was flushed by the sinking sun, and had lost its dunness, and, reddening every moment as it rose above the roofs, steeples, and towers, it went curling round the sinking sun in a rosy vapour, leaving, however, just a segment of a golden rim, which gleamed as dazzlingly as in the thinnest and clearest air--a peculiar effect which struck borrow deeply. i never saw such a sunset before or since, not even on waterloo bridge; and from its association with 'the last of borrow' i shall never forget it.[ ] mr. watts-dunton concludes his reminiscences--the most valuable personal record that we have of borrow--with a sonnet that now has its place in literature: we talked of 'children of the open air' who once in orient valleys lived aloof, loving the sun, the wind, the sweet reproof of storms, and all that makes the fair earth fair, till, on a day, across the mystic bar of moonrise, came the 'children of the roof,' who find no balm 'neath evening's rosiest woof, nor dews of peace beneath the morning star. we looked o'er london where men wither and choke, roofed in, poor souls, renouncing stars and skies, and lore of woods and wild wind-prophecies-- yea, every voice that to their fathers spoke: and sweet it seemed to die ere bricks and smoke leave never a meadow outside paradise. footnotes: [ ] theodore watts-dunton's memoir of thomas gordon hake in the _athenæum_, january , . an interesting letter that i have received from mr. watts-dunton clears up several points and may well have place here:-- 'the pines, putney hill, s.w., _ st may ._ 'you ask me what i have written upon george borrow. when borrow died ( th july ), the first obituary notice of him in the _athenæum_ was not by me, but by w. elwin. this appeared on the th august . at this time the general public had so forgotten that borrow was alive that i remember once, at one of old mrs. procter's receptions, it had been discussed, as lowell and browning afterwards told me, as to whether i was or was not "an archer of the long bow" because i said that on the previous sunday i had walked with borrow in richmond park, and was frequently seeing him, and that on the sunday before i had walked in the same beautiful park with dr. gordon latham, another celebrity of the past "known to be dead." the fact is, borrow's really great books were _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_, and the latter had fallen almost dead from the press, smothered by victorian respectability and philistinism. he was thoroughly soured and angry, and no wonder! he fought shy of literary society. he quite resented being introduced to strangers. 'elwin's article was considered very unsatisfactory. knowing that the most competent man in england to write about borrow was my old friend, dr. gordon hake, i suggested that maccoll should ask the doctor (one of the few men whom borrow really loved) to furnish the _athenæum_ with another article. this was agreed to, and another article was written, either by dr. hake himself, or by one of his sons--i don't quite remember at this distance of time. it appeared in the _athenæum_ of the th august . but even this article did not seem to maccoll to vitalise one of the most remarkable personalities of the th century; and as i was then a leading writer in the literary department of the _athenæum_, maccoll asked me to give him an article upon borrow whom i had known so well. i did so, and the article "caught on," as maccoll said, more than had any _athenæum_ article for a long time. this appeared rd september . when maccoll read the article he was so much pleased with it that he urged me to follow it up with an article on borrow in connection with the children of the open air--a subject upon which i had previously written a good deal in the _athenæum_. this appeared on the th september , and became still more popular, and the _athenæum_ containing it had quite an exceptional sale. 'the hake whom you inquire about, egmont hake, has drifted out of my ken. he at one time lived in paris, and wrote a book called _paris originals_. i know that he did, at one time, contemplate writing upon borrow, and corresponded with mrs. macoubrey with this view; but the affair fell through. as a son of dr. hake's he could not fail to know borrow. he wrote a brief article about him, in the _dictionary of national biography_. but the two hakes who were thrown across borrow most intimately were thomas hake and george hake, the latter of whom lately died in africa. thomas hake, the eldest of the family, knew borrow in his own childhood, which the other members of the family did not. after dr. gordon hake went to live in germany, after the roehampton home was broken up, i saw a good deal of borrow. he always thought that no one sympathised with him and understood him so thoroughly as i did,--ever most cordially yours, 'theodore watts-dunton.' since receiving this letter i have been in communication with mr. egmont hake, who generously offered to place his borrow material at my disposal, but this offer came too late to be of service. mr. hake will, however, shortly publish his _memoirs_ in which he will include some interesting impressions of george borrow which it has been my privilege to read in manuscript. [ ] dr. hake was equally severe in his references to thackeray, of whom scarcely any one has spoken ill. 'thackeray spent a good deal of his time on stilts,' he says. '... he was a very disagreeable companion to those who did not want to boast that they knew him.'--_memoirs_, p. . 'thackeray,' he says elsewhere, 'as if under the impression that the party was invited to look at him, thought it necessary to make a figure.... borrow knew better how to behave in good company.'--_memoirs_, p. . [ ] _theodore watts-dunton: poet, novelist, critic_. by james douglas. hodder and stoughton, , p. . [ ] 'recollections of george borrow,' by a. egmont hake in _the athenæum_, aug. , . [ ] borrow's hair was black until he was about twenty years of age, when it turned white. [ ] _chambers's cyclopaedia of english literature_, vol. iii. p. . [ ] _the athenæum_, september , . [ ] _the athenæum_, september , . i am indebted to my friend mr. john collins francis., of _the athenæum_ newspaper, for generously placing the columns of that journal at my disposal for the purposes of this book. chapter xxxv borrow's unpublished writings to many in our day, less utilitarian than those of an earlier era, borrow must have been an interesting man of letters had he not written his four great books. single-minded devotion to the less commercially remunerative languages has now become respectable and even estimable. students of the scandinavian languages, and of the celtic, abound in our midst. borrow was a forerunner with bowring of much of this 'useless' learning. borrow came to consider bowring's apparent neglect of him to be unforgivable. but that time had not arrived, when in he wrote to him as follows: to dr. john bowring oulton, lowestoft, suffolk, _july th, ._ dear dear sir,--pray excuse my troubling you with a line. i wish you would send as many of the papers and manuscripts, which i left at yours some twelve years ago, as you can find. amongst others there is an essay on welsh poetry, a translation of the _death of balder_, etc. if i am spared to the beginning of next year, i intend to bring out a volume called _songs of denmark_, consisting of some selections from the _kæmpe viser_ and specimens from ewald, grundtvig, oehlenschläger, and i suppose i must give a few notices of those people. have you any history of danish literature from which i could glean a few hints. i think you have a book in two volumes containing specimens of danish poetry. it would be useful to me as i want to translate ingemann's _dannebrog_; and one or two other pieces. i shall preface all with an essay on the danish language. it is possible that a book of this description may take, as denmark is quite an untrodden field. could you lend me for a short time a polish and french or polish and german dictionary. i am going carefully through makiewitz, about whom i intend to write an _article_. _the bible in spain_ is in the press, and with god's permission will appear about november in three volumes. i shall tell murray to send a copy to my oldest, i may say my _only_ friend. pray let me know how you are getting on. i every now and then see your name in the _examiner_, the only paper i read. should you send the papers and the books it must be by the yarmouth coach which starts from fetter lane. address: george borrow, crown inn, lowestoft, suffolk. with kindest remembrances to mrs. bowring, miss bowring, and family--i remain, dear sir, ever yours, george borrow. [illustration: facsimile of a poem from _targum_ a translation from the french by george borrow my eighteenth year where is my eighteenth year? far back upon life's variegated track; yet fondly oft i turn my eye, and for my eighteenth year i sigh. each pleasure then i took with zest, and hope was inmate of my breast, enchanting hope, consoling thing, the plucker out of sorrow's sting. the sun above shone brighter then fairer were women, kinder men if tears i shed they soon were o'er and i was happier than before.] now with the achieved success of _the bible in spain_ and the leisure of a happy home borrow could for the moment think of the ambition of 'twelve years ago'--an ambition to put before the public some of the results of his marvellous industry. the labours of the dark, black years between and might now perchance see the light. three such books got themselves published, as we have seen, _romantic ballads_, _targum_, and _the talisman_. _the sleeping bard_ had been translated and offered to 'a little welsh bookseller' of smithfield in , who, however, said, when he had read it, 'were i to print it i should be ruined.' that fate followed the book to the end, and borrow was premature when he said in his preface to _the sleeping bard_ that such folly is on the decline, because he found 'albemarle street in ' willing to publish a harmless but plain-speaking book which smithfield shrank from in ' .' at the last moment john murray refused to publish, but seems to have agreed to give his imprint to the title-page. borrow published the book at his own expense, it being set up by james matthew denew, of hall plain, great yarmouth. fourteen years later--in --mr. murray made some amends by publishing _romano lavo-lil_, in which are many fine translations from the romany, and that, during his lifetime, was the 'beginning and the end' of borrow's essays in publishing so far as his translations were concerned. webber, the bookseller of ipswich, did indeed issue _the turkish jester_--advertised as ready for publication in --in , and jarrold of norwich _the death of balder_ in ; but enthusiasts have asked in vain for _celtic bards_, _chiefs and kings_, _songs of europe_, and _northern skalds, kings and earls_. it is not recorded whether borrow offered these to any publisher other than 'glorious john' of albemarle street, but certain it is that mr. murray would have none of them. the 'mountains of manuscript' remained to be the sorrowful interest of borrow as an old man as they had--many of them--been the sorrow and despair of his early manhood. here is a memorandum in his daughter's handwriting of the work that borrow was engaged upon at the time of his death: songs of ireland. songs of the isle of man. songs of wales. songs of the gaelic highlands. songs of anglo-saxon england. songs of the north, mythological. songs of the north, heroic. songs of iceland. songs of sweden. songs of germany. songs of holland. songs of ancient greece. songs of the modern greeks. songs of the klephts. songs of denmark, early period. songs of denmark, modern period. songs of the feroe isles. songs of the gascons. songs of modern italy. songs of portugal. songs of poland. songs of hungary. songs and legends of turkey. songs of ancient rome. songs of the church. songs of the troubadours. songs of normandy. songs of spain. songs of russia. songs of the basques. songs of finland. these translations were intended to form a volume with copious notes, but were only completed a month before mr. borrow's death, which occurred at his residence, oulton cottage, suffolk, july th, , in the seventy-ninth year of his age. this grand old man, full of years and honour, was buried beside his wife (who had proved a noble helpmate to him), in brompton cemetery, august th. and so what many will consider borrow's 'craze' for verse translations remained with him to the end. we know with what equanimity he bore his defeat in early years. did he not make humorous 'copy' out of it in _lavengro_. it must have been a greater disappointment that his publisher would have none of his wares when he had proved by writing _the bible in spain_ that at least some of his work had money in it. for years it was borrow's opinion that lockhart stood in his way, wishing to hold the field with his _ancient spanish ballads_ ( ), and maintaining that borrow was no poet. the view that borrow had no poetry in him and that his verse is always poor has been held by many of borrow's admirers. the view will not have the support of those who have had the advantage of reading all borrow's less known published writings, and the many manuscripts that he left behind him. but on the general question let us hear mr. theodore watts-dunton:-- it should never be forgotten that borrow was, before everything else, a poet.... by poet i do not mean merely a man who is skilled in writing lyrics and sonnets and that kind of thing, but primarily a man who has the poetic gift of seeing through 'the show of things,' and knowing where he is--the gift of drinking deeply of the waters of life, and of feeling grateful to nature for so sweet a draught.'[ ] possibly mr. watts-dunton did not contemplate his idea being applied to borrow's verse translations, but all the same the quality of poetic imagination may be found here in abundance. the little welsh bookseller of smithfield said to borrow in reference to _the sleeping bard_: were i to print it i should be ruined; the terrible description of vice and torment would frighten the genteel part of the english public out of its wits, and i should to a certainty be prosecuted by sir james scarlett. i am much obliged to you for the trouble you have given yourself on my account--but, myn diawl! i had no idea, till i had read him in english, that elis wyn had been such a terrible fellow. and here the little welsh bookseller paid borrow a signal compliment. in the main borrow provided a prose translation of _the sleeping bard_. in _targum_ however, he showed himself a quite gifted balladist, far removed from the literary standard of _romantic ballads_ ten years earlier. space does not permit of any quotation in this chapter, and i must be content here to declare that the spirit of poetry came over borrow on many occasions. the whole of borrow's _songs of scandinavia_ will ultimately be published, although for eighty and more years[ ] the pile of neatly written manuscript of that book, which is now in my possession, has appealed for publication in vain. there will be found, in such a ballad as _orm ungerswayne_, for example, a practical demonstration that borrow had the root of the matter in him. it is true that borrow's limited acquaintance with english poetry was a serious drawback to great achievement, and his many translations from his favourite welsh bard goronwy owen that are before me are too much under the influence of pope. in addition to the _songs of scandinavia_ i have before me certain other ballads in manuscript--such portions of his various unpublished but frequently advertised works as did not fall to dr. knapp.[ ] of these i do not hesitate to say that whatever the difference of opinion as to their poetic quality there can be no difference of opinion as to their being well-told stories of an exceedingly interesting and invigorating character. but i must leave for another time and another opportunity any discussion of borrow's poetic achievement of which at present the world has had little opportunity of knowing anything.[ ] of prose manuscript there is also a considerable quantity, including diaries of travel and translations of nine or ten stories from various languages. of the minor books already published we have already spoken of _faustus_, _romantic ballads_, _targum_, and _the talisman_, and borrow's last and least interesting book _romano lavo-lil_. there remains but to recall:-- _the sleeping bard_, published by john murray, _the turkish jester_, " w. webber, _the death of balder_, " jarrold and sons, these eight little volumes will always remain borrow's least-read books. only in _targum_ and _the sleeping bard_ do we find much indication of those qualities which made him famous. it is not in the least surprising that the other work failed to find a publisher, and, indeed, from a merely commercial point of view, the late john murray had more excuse for refusing _romano lavo-lil,_ which he did publish, than _the sleeping bard_, which he refused to publish--at least on his own responsibility. such books, whatever their merits, are issued to-day only by learned societies. in a quite different category were those many ballads[ ] from diverse languages that borrow had hoped to issue under such titles as _celtic bards_, _chiefs and kings_, and _northern skalds, kings and earls_. these books would have had no difficulty in finding a publisher to-day were they offered by a writer of one half the popularity of borrow.[ ] [illustration: borrow as a professor of languages an 'advertisement' put forth by borrow in norwich during the years of struggle before he was sent to russia by the bible society. this interesting document, which is in borrow's handwriting, is in the possession of mr. frank j. farrell of great yarmouth, by whose courtesy it is reproduced here.] there is, i repeat, excellent work in these ballads. as to _targum_ let it not be forgotten that hasfeld--really a good judge--said in _the athenæum_ that 'the work is a pearl of genius,' and that william bodham donne declared that 'the language and rhythm are vastly superior to macaulay's _lays of ancient rome_.' as to _the sleeping bard_ borrow himself was able to make his own vigorous defence of that work. in emulation of walter scott he reviewed himself in _the quarterly_.[ ] his article is really an essay on welsh poetry, and incidentally he quotes from his unpublished _celtic bards, chiefs and kings_ a lengthy passage, the manuscript of which is in my possession. we are introduced again to all borrow's old friends of _wild wales_: hew morris, goronwy owen, and finally elis wyn. borrow quotes from _the romany rye_, but as becomes a reviewer of his own book, gives no praise to his achievement. i find no plays among borrow's 'mountains of manuscript' in my possession, and so i am not disposed to accept the suggestion that the following letter from gifford to borrow refers to a play which borrow pretended to be the work of a friend while it was really his own. if it was his own he doubtless took gifford's counsel to heart and promptly destroyed the manuscript:-- to george borrow, esq. _a specimen of gifford's criticism on a friend's_ play, _which i was desired to send to him_. my dear borrow,--i have read your m.s. very attentively, and may say of it with desdemona of the song-- 'it is silly, sooth, and dallies with the innocence of love like to old age.' the poetry in some places is pretty, the sentiment is also excellent. and can i say more? the plot is petty, the characters without vigour, and the story poorly told. instead of irene the scene seems to be laid in arcadia, and the manners are not so much confounded as totally lost. there are druids--but such druids! o lord! there is to be seen no physical, perhaps no moral lesson, though a druid should not be a rogue--but it is not so set down in the bond. is this the characterisation which we have been used to see there? to end an unpleasant letter, i must leave to your friendship for the author to contrive some mode of dissuading him from publishing. if, however, he is determined to rush on the world, let him do it, in the first place, anonymously. if it takes, he may then toss up his nose at my opinion, and claim his work. [illustration: a page of the manuscript of borrow's _songs of scandinavia_--an unpublished work] say nothing of me, for i would not be thought to offend so excellent and so able a man. he may be content with his literary fame, and can do without poetic praise. your answer is short. the play might have passed very well had it been published when written, and when the writer was yet young and little known, but it will be hazardous now, as the world is cross-grained, and will not see your master in the grave and learned author of so many valuable works; but judge him from his present attainments. but this, as mrs. quickly says, 'is alligant terms,' and it may do.--ever yours, wm. gifford. _p.s._--i see the preface is already written, and do what you will, the play will be published. one other phase of this more limited aspect of borrow's work may be dealt with here--his mastery of languages. i have before me scores of pages which reveal the way that borrow became a lav-engro--a word-master. he drew up tables of every language in turn, the english word following the german, or welsh, or whatever the tongue might be, and he learnt these off with amazing celerity. his wonderful memory was his greatest asset in this particular. he was not a philologist if we accept the dictionary definition of that word as 'a person versed in the science of language.' but his interest in languages is refreshing and interesting--never pedantic, and he takes rank among those disinterested lovers of learning who pursue their researches without any regard to the honours or emoluments that they may bring, loving learning for learning's sake, undaunted by the discouragements that come from the indifference of a world to which they have made their appeal in vain. footnotes: [ ] _the athenæum_, september , . [ ] in the _monthly magazine_ for march under the head of 'miscellaneous intelligence' we find the following announcement:-- 'dr. bowring and mr. george borrow are about to publish _the songs of scandinavia_, containing a selection of the most interesting of the historical and romantic ballads of north-western europe, with specimens of the danish and norwegian poets down to the present day.' [ ] dr. knapp's borrow manuscripts are now in the hispanic society's archives in new york. [ ] i contemplate at a later date an edition of borrow's collected writings, in which the unpublished verse will extend to two volumes. [ ] certain of these have of late been privately printed in pamphlet form--limited to thirty copies each. [ ] the works of dr. george sigerson, dr. douglas hyde and dr. kuno meyer in irish literature are an evidence of this. dr. sigerson's _bards of the gael and gaul_ and dr. hyde's _love songs of connaught_ have each gone through more than one edition and have proved remunerative to their authors. [ ] _the quarterly review_, january , pp. - . chapter xxxvi henrietta clarke borrow never had a child, but happy for him was the part played by his stepdaughter henrietta in his life. she was twenty-three years old when her mother married him, and it is clear to me that she was from the beginning of their friendship and even to the end of his life devoted to her stepfather. readers of _wild wales_ will recall not only the tribute that borrow pays to her, which we have already quoted, in which he refers to her 'good qualities and many accomplishments,' but the other pleasant references in that book. 'henrietta,' he says in one passage, 'played on the guitar[ ] and sang a spanish song, to the great delight of john jones.' when climbing snowdon he is keen in his praises of the endurance of 'the gallant girl.' as against all this, there is an undercurrent of depreciation of his stepdaughter among borrow's biographers. the picture of borrow's home in later life at oulton is presented by them with sordid details. the oulton tradition which still survives among the few inhabitants who lived near the broad at borrow's death in , and still reside there, is of an ill-kept home, supremely untidy, and it is as a final indictment of his daughter's callousness that we have the following gruesome picture by dr. knapp: on the th of july mr. borrow was found dead in his house at oulton. the circumstances were these. his stepdaughter and her husband drove to lowestoft in the morning on some business of their own, leaving mr. borrow without a living soul in the house with him. he had earnestly requested them not to go away because he felt that he was in a dying state; but the response intimated that he had often expressed the same feeling before, and his fears had proved groundless. during the interval of these few hours of abandonment nothing can palliate or excuse, george borrow died as he had lived--_alone_! his age was seventy-eight years and twenty-one days. dr. knapp no doubt believed all this;[ ] it is endorsed by the village gossip of the past thirty years, and the mythical tragedy is even heightened by a further story of a farm tumbril which carried poor borrow's body to the railway station when it was being conveyed to london to be buried beside his wife in brompton cemetery. the tumbril story--whether correct or otherwise--is a matter of indifference to me. the legend of the neglect of borrow in his last moments is however of importance, and the charge can easily be disproved.[ ] i have before me mrs. macoubrey's diary for . i have many such diaries for a long period of years, but this for is of particular moment. here, under the date july th, we find the brief note, _george borrow died at three o'clock this morning_. it is scarcely possible that borrow's stepdaughter and her husband could have left him alone at three o'clock in the morning in order to drive into lowestoft, less than two miles distant. at this time, be it remembered, dr. macoubrey was eighty-one years of age. now, as to the general untidiness of borrow's home at the time of his death--the point is a distasteful one, but it had better be faced. henrietta was twenty-three years of age when her mother married borrow. she was sixty-four at the time of his death, and her husband, as i have said, was eighty-one years of age at that time, being three years older than borrow. here we have three very elderly people keeping house together and little accustomed overmuch to the assistance of domestic servants. the situation at once becomes clear. mrs. borrow had a genius for housekeeping and for management. she watched over her husband, kept his accounts, held the family purse,[ ] managed all his affairs. she 'managed' her daughter also, delighting in that daughter's accomplishments of drawing and botany, to which may be added a zeal for the writing of stories which does not seem, judging from the many manuscripts in her handwriting that i have burnt, to have received much editorial encouragement. in short, henrietta was not domesticated. but just as i have proved in preceding chapters that borrow was happy in his married life, so i would urge that as far as a somewhat disappointed career would permit to the sadly bereaved author he was happy in his family circle to the end. it was at his initiative that, when he had returned to oulton after the death of his wife, his daughter and her husband came to live with him. he declared that to live alone was no longer tolerable, and they gave up their own home in london to join him at oulton. a new glimpse of borrow on his domestic side has been offered to the public even as this book is passing through the press. mr. s. h. baldrey, a norwich solicitor, has given his reminiscences of the author of _lavengro_ to the leading newspaper of that city.[ ] mr. baldrey is the stepson of the late john pilgrim of the firm of jay and pilgrim, who were borrow's solicitors at norwich in the later years of his life. one at least of mr. baldrey's many reminiscences has in it an element of romance; that in which he recalls mrs. borrow and her daughter: mrs. borrow always struck me as a dear old creature. when borrow married her she was a widow with one daughter, henrietta clarke. the old lady used to dress in black silk. she had little silver-grey corkscrew curls down the side of her face; and she wore a lace cap with a mauve ribbon on top, quite in the early victorian style. i remember that on one occasion when she and miss clarke had come to brunswick house they were talking with my mother in the temporary absence of george borrow, who, so far as i can recall, had gone into another room to discuss business with john pilgrim. 'ah!' she said, 'george is a good man, but he is a strange creature. do you know he will say to me after breakfast, "mary, i am going for a walk," and then i do not see anything more of him for three months. and all the time he will be walking miles and miles. once he went right into scotland, and never once slept in a house. he took not even a handbag with him or a clean shirt, but lived just like any old tramp.' mr. baldrey is clearly in error here, or shall we say that mrs. borrow humorously exaggerated? we have seen that borrow's annual holiday was a matter of careful arrangement, and his knapsack or satchel is frequently referred to in his descriptions of his various tours. but the matter is of little importance, and mr. baldrey's pictures of borrow are excellent, including that of his personal appearance: as i recall him, he was a fine, powerfully built man of about six feet high. he had a clean-shaven face with a fresh complexion, almost approaching to the florid, and never a wrinkle, even at sixty, except at the corners of his dark and rather prominent eyes. he had a shock of silvery white hair. he always wore a very badly brushed silk hat, a black frock coat and trousers, the coat all buttoned down before; low shoes and white socks, with a couple of inches of white showing between the shoes and the trousers. he was a tireless walker, with extraordinary powers of endurance, and was also very handy with his fists, as in those days a gentleman required to be, more than he does now. mr. john pilgrim lived at brunswick house, on the newmarket road, norwich, and here borrow frequently visited him. mr. baldrey recalls one particular visit: [illustration: a letter from borrow to his wife written from rome in his continental journey of ] i have a curious recollection of his dining one night at brunswick house. john pilgrim, who was a careful, abstemious man, never took more than two glasses of port at dinner. 'john,' said borrow, 'this is a good port. i prefer burgundy if you can get it good; but, lord, you cannot get it now.' it so happened that mr. pilgrim had some fine old clos-vougeot in the cellar. 'i think,' said he, 'i can give you a good drop of burgundy.' a bottle was sent for, and borrow finished it, alone and unaided. 'well,' he remarked, 'i think this is a good burgundy. but i'm not quite certain. i should like to try a little more.' another bottle was called up, and the guest finished it to the last drop. i am still,' he said, 'not quite sure about it, but i shall know in the morning.' the next morning mr. pilgrim and i were leaving for the office, when borrow came up the garden path waving his arms like a windmill. 'oh, john,' he said, 'that _was_ burgundy! when i woke up this morning it was coursing through my veins like fire.' and yet borrow was not a man to drink to excess. i cannot imagine him being the worse for liquor. he had wonderful health and digestion. neither a gourmand nor a gourmet, he could take down anything, and be none the worse for it. i don't think you could have made him drunk if you tried. and here is a glimpse of borrow after his wife's death, for which we are grateful to mr. baldrey: after the funeral of mrs. borrow he came to norwich and took me over to oulton with him. he was silent all the way. when we got to the little white wicket gate before the approach to the house he took off his hat and began to beat his breast like an oriental. he cried aloud all the way up the path. he calmed himself, however, by the time that mr. crabbe had opened the door and asked us in. crabbe brought in some wine, and we all sat down to table. i sat opposite to mrs. crabbe; her husband was on my left hand. borrow sat at one end of the table, and the chair at the opposite end was left vacant. we were talking in a casual way when borrow, pointing to the empty chair, said with profound emotion, 'there! it was there that i first saw her.' it was a curious coincidence that though there were four of us we should have left that particular seat unoccupied at a little table of about four feet square.[ ] but this is a lengthy digression from the story of henrietta clarke, who married william macoubrey, an irishman--and an orangeman--from belfast in . the pair lived first in belfast and afterwards at charlotte street, fitzroy square. before his marriage he had practised at sloane street, london. macoubrey, although there has been some doubt cast upon the statement, was a doctor of medicine of trinity college, dublin, and a barrister-at-law. within his limitations he was an accomplished man, and before me lie not only documentary evidence of his m.d. and his legal status, but several printed pamphlets that bear his name.[ ] what is of more importance, the letters from and to his wife that have through my hands and have been consigned to the flames prove that husband and wife lived on most affectionate terms. it is natural that borrow's correspondence with his stepdaughter should have been of a somewhat private character, and i therefore publish only a selection from his letters to her, believing however that they modify an existing tradition very considerably: to mrs. macoubrey dear henrietta,--have you heard from the gentleman whom you said you would write to about the farm?[ ] mr. c. came over the other day and i mentioned the matter to him, but he told me that he was on the eve of going to london on law business and should be absent for some time. his son is in cambridge. i am afraid that it will be no easy matter to find a desirable tenant and that none are likely to apply but a set of needy speculators; indeed, there is a general dearth of money. how is dr. m.? god bless you! george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey dear henrietta,--i have received some of the rent and send a cheque for eight pounds. have the kindness to acknowledge the receipt of same by return of post. as soon as you arrive in london, let me know, and i will send a cheque for ten pounds, which i believe will pay your interest up to midsummer. if there is anything incorrect pray inform me. god bless you. kind regards to miss harvey. george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey dear henrietta,--as soon as smith has paid his michaelmas rent i will settle your interest up to midsummer. twenty-one pounds was, i think, then due to you, as you received five pounds on the account of the present year. if, however, you are in want of money let me know forthwith, and i will send you a small cheque. the document which i mentioned has been witnessed by mrs. church and her daughter. it is in one of the little tin boxes on the lower shelf of the closet nearest to the window in my bedroom. i was over at mattishall some weeks ago. things there look very unsatisfactory. h. and his mother now owe me £ or more. the other man a year's rent for a cottage and garden, and two years' rent for the gardens of two cottages unoccupied. i am just returned from norwich where i have been to speak to f. i have been again pestered by pilgrim's successor about the insurance of the property. he pretends to have insured again. a more impudent thing was probably never heard of. he is no agent of mine, and i will have no communication with him. i have insured myself in the union office, and have lately received my second policy. i have now paid upwards of twelve pounds for policies. f. says that he told him months ago that the demand he made would not be allowed, that i insured myself and was my own agent, and that as he shall see him in a few days he will tell him so again. oh what a source of trouble that wretched fellow pilgrim has been both to you and me. i wish very much to come up to london. but i cannot leave the country under present circumstances. there is not a person in these parts in whom i can place the slightest confidence. i most inform you that at our interview f. said not a word about the matter in chancery. god bless you. kind remembrances to dr. m. george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey dear henrietta,--i wish to know how you are. i shall shortly send a cheque for thirteen pounds, which i believe will settle the interest account up to michaelmas. if you see anything inaccurate pray inform me. i am at present tolerably well, but of late have been very much troubled with respect to my people. since i saw you i have been three times over to mattishall, but with very little profit. the last time i was there i got the key of the house from that fellow hill, and let the place to another person who i am now told is not much better. one comfort is that he cannot be worse. but now there is a difficulty. hill refuses to yield up the land, and has put padlocks on the gates. these i suppose can be removed as he is not in possession of the key of the house. on this point, however, i wish to be certain. as for the house, he and his mother, who is in a kind of partnership with him, have abandoned it for two years, the consequence being that the windows are dashed out, and the place little better than a ruin. during the four years he has occupied the land he has been cropping it, and the crops have invariably been sold before being reaped, and as soon as reaped carried off. during the last two years there has not been a single live thing kept on the premises, not so much as a hen. he now says that there are some things in the house belonging to him. anything, however, which he has left is of course mine, though i don't believe that what he has left is worth sixpence. i have told the incoming tenant to deliver up nothing, and not permit him to enter the house on any account. he owes me ten or twelve pounds, arrears of rent, and at least fifteen for dilapidations. i think the fellow ought to be threatened with an action, but i know not whom to employ. i don't wish to apply to f. perhaps dr. m.'s london friend might be spoken to. i believe hill's address is alfred hill, mattishall, norfolk, but the place which he occupied of me is at mattishall burgh. i shall be glad to hear from you as soon as is convenient. i have anything but reason to be satisfied with the conduct of s. he is cropping the ground most unmercifully, and is sending sacks of game off the premises every week. surely he must be mad, as he knows i can turn him out next michaelmas. god bless you. kind regards to dr. m. take care of this. george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey dear henrietta,--i was glad to hear that you had obtained your dividend. i was afraid that you would never get it. i shall be happy to see you and dr. m. about the end of the month. michaelmas is near at hand, when your half-year's interest becomes due. god bless you. kind remembrances to dr. m. george borrow. oulton, lowestoft, _november th, ._ dear henrietta,--i send a cheque for £ , which will settle the interest account up to michaelmas last. on receipt of this have the kindness to send me a line. i have been to norwich, and now know all about your affair. i saw mr. durrant, who, it seems, is the real head of the firm to which i go. he received me in the kindest manner, and said he was very glad to see me. i inquired about j.p.'s affairs. he appeared at first not desirous to speak about them, but presently became very communicative. i inquired who had put the matter into chancery, and he told me he himself, which i was very glad to hear. i asked whether the mortgagees would get their money, and he replied that he had no doubt they eventually would, as far as principal was concerned. i spoke about interest, but on that point he gave me slight hopes. he said that the matter, if not hurried, would turn out tolerably satisfactory, but if it were, very little would be obtained. it appears that the unhappy creature who is gone had been dabbling in post obit bonds, at present almost valueless, but likely to become available. he was in great want of money shortly before he died. now, dear, pray keep up your spirits; i hope and trust we shall meet about christmas. kind regards to dr. m. george borrow. keep this. send a line by return of post. to mrs. macoubrey dear henrietta,--i thought i would write to you as it seems a long time since i heard from you. i have been on my expedition and have come back safe. i had a horrible time of it on the sea--small dirty boat crowded with people and rough weather. poor mr. brightwell is i am sorry to say dead--died in january. i saw mr. j. and p. and had a good deal of conversation with them which i will talk to you about when i see you. mr. p. sent an officer over to m. i went to oulton, and as soon as i got there i found one of the farm cottages nearly in ruins; the gable had fallen down--more expense! but i said that some willow trees must be cut down to cover it. the place upon the whole looks very beautiful. c. full of complaints, though i believe he has a fine time of it. he and t. are at daggers drawn. i am sorry to tell you that poor mr. leathes is dying--called, but could not see him, but he sent down a kind message to me. the family, however, were rejoiced to see me and wanted me to stay. the scoundrel of a shoemaker did not send the shoes. i thought he would not. the shirt-collars were much too small. i, however, managed to put on the shirts and am glad of them. at norwich i saw lucy, who appears to be in good spirits. many people have suffered dreadfully there from the failure of the bank--her brother, amongst others, has been let in. i shall have much to tell you when i see you. i am glad that the prussians are getting on so famously. the pope it seems has written a letter to the king of prussia and is asking favours of him. a low old fellow!!! remember me kindly to miss h., and may god bless you! bring this back. george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey _march , ._ dear henrietta,--i was so grieved to hear that you were unwell. pray take care of yourself, and do not go out in this dreadful weather. send and get, on my account, six bottles of good port wine. good port may be had at the cellar at the corner of charles street, opposite the hospital near hereford square--i think the name of the man is kitchenham. were i in london i would bring it myself. do send for it. may god almighty bless you! george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey norwich, _july , ._ dear henrietta,--i shall be glad to see you and dr. m. as soon as you can make it convenient to come. as for my coming up to london it is quite out of the question. i am suffering greatly, and here i am in this solitude without medicine or advice. i want very much to pay you up your interest. i can do so without the slightest inconvenience. i have money. it is well i have, as it seems to be almost my only friend. god bless you. kind regards to dr. m. george borrow. here i find a letter from mrs. macoubrey to her stepfather: to george borrow, esq. southgate house, bury st. edmunds, _novbr. th, ._ my beloved friend,--i sincerely trust that you are well, and received my letter which i sent about ten days ago. miss harvey is pretty well and very kind, and it really is a great pleasure to be here during the dark foggy month of november, the most disagreeable in london. i saw miss beevor the other day; she is confined to the house with rheumatism and a strain; she was so pleased to see me, and talked about the images of mildenhall. they now set up for the great county gentry; give very grand entertainments, dinners, etc., and go also to grand dinners, so their time is fully taken up going and receiving; they never scarce honour the little paltry town of bury st. edmunds. bloomfield, the old butler, is gone to service again; he could not bear himself without horses, so he is gone to the wigsons, near bury, where he will have plenty of hunters to look after; he wished to live with miss harvey. poor miss borton died about a week ago; she did not live long to enjoy the huge fortune her brother left. bury seems very much changing its inhabitants, but there are still some nice people. i shall always like it while dear miss harvey lives; she is so very kind to me. it is extremely cold, but we keep tremendous fires, which combats it. i do sincerely trust, dear, that you are well. i should like to have a line just to say how you are. i return to london the th of decbr., not later, but you see miss harvey likes to keep me as long as she can, and i am very happy with her, but at that time i shall be sure to be at home. if you were going up to london i would leave sooner. if you want any medicine or anything, only let me know and you shall have it. accept my most affec. love, and believe me ever, your attached daughter, henrietta macoubrey. _p.s._--miss harvey desires her kind regards. may god bless you. to mrs. macoubrey, charlotte street, fitzroy square, london oulton, lowestoft, _april , ._ dear henrietta,--i have received your letter of the th march. since i last wrote i have not been well. i have had a great pain in the left jaw which almost prevented me from eating. i am, however, better now. i shall be glad to see you and dr. m. as soon as you can conveniently come. send me a line to say when i may expect you. i have no engagements. before you come call at no. to inquire whether anything has been sent there. leverton had better be employed to make a couple of boxes or cases for the books in the sacks. the sacks can be put on the top in the inside. there is an old coat in one of the sacks in the pocket of which are papers. let it be put in with its contents just as it is. i wish to have the long white chest and the two deal boxes also brought down. buy me a thick under-waistcoat like that i am now wearing, and a lighter one for the summer. worsted socks are of no use--they scarcely last a day. cotton ones are poor things, but they are better than worsted. kind regards to dr. m. god bless you! return me this when you come. george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey, charlotte street, fitzroy square, london oulton, _nov. , ._ dear henrietta,--you may buy me a large silk handkerchief, like the one you brought before. i shall be glad to see you and dr. m. i am very unwell. george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey dear henrietta,--i shall be glad to see you and dr. m. as soon as you can make it convenient. in a day or two the house will be in good repair and very comfortable. i want you to go to the bank and have the cheque placed to my account. lady day is nigh at hand, and it must be seen after. buy for me a pair of those hollow ground razors and tell dr. m. to bring a little laudanum. come if you can on the first of march. it is dear mama's birthday. god bless you! kind regards to dr. m. george borrow. to mrs. macoubrey, charlotte street, fitzroy square, london mrs. church's, lady's lane, norwich, _feb. , ._ dear henrietta,--i received your letter this morning with the document. the other came to hand at oulton before i left. i showed mr. f. the first document on wednesday, and he expressed then a doubt with regard to the necessity of an affidavit from me, but he said it would perhaps be necessary for him to see the security. i saw him again this morning and he repeated the same thing. to-night he is going to write up to his agent on the subject, and on monday i am to know what is requisite to be done--therefore pray keep in readiness. on tuesday, perhaps, i shall return to oulton, but i don't know. i shall write again on monday. god bless you. george borrow. borrow died, as we have seen, in , and was buried by the side of his wife in brompton cemetery. by his will, dated st december , he bequeathed all his property to his stepdaughter, making his friend, elizabeth harvey, her co-executrix. the will, a copy of which is before me, has no public interest, but it may be noted that miss harvey refused to act, as the following letter to mrs. macoubrey testifies[ ]: to mrs. macoubrey bury st. edmunds, _august th._ my dearest henrietta,--i was just preparing to write to you when yours arrived together with mrs. reeve's despatch. you know how earnestly i desire your welfare--but _because_ i do so i earnestly advise you immediately to exercise the right you have of appointing another trustee in my place. i am sure it will be best for you. you ought to have a trustee at least _not_ older than yourself, and one who has health and strength for discharging the office. i _know_ what are the duties of a trustee. there's _always_ a considerable responsibility involved in the discharge of the duties of a trustee--and it may easily occur that great responsibility may be thrown on them, and it may become an anxious business fit only for those who have youth and health and strength of mind, and are likely to live. my dear friend, you do not like to realise the old age of your dear friends, but you must consider that i am quite past the age for such an office, and my invalid state often prevents my attending to my own small affairs. i have no relation or confidential friend who can act for me. my executors were miss venn and john venn. miss venn departed last february to a better land. john is in such health with heart disease that he cannot move far from his home--he writes as one _ready_ and desiring to depart. i do not expect to see _him_ again. so you see, my dearest friend, i am not able to undertake this trusteeship, and i think the sooner you consult mrs. reeve as to the appointment of another trustee--the better it will be--and the more _permanent_. had i known it was mr. borrow's intention to put down my name i should have prevented it, and he would have seen that an aged and invalid lady was not the person to carry out his wishes--for i am quite unable. i pray that a fit person may be induced to undertake the business, and that it may please god so to order all for your good. it is indeed the greatest mercy that your dear husband is well enough to afford you such help and such comfort. pray hire a proper servant who will obey orders.--in haste, ever yrs. affectionately, e. harvey. another letter that has some bearing upon borrow's last days is worth printing here: to mrs. macoubrey yarmouth, _august , ._ my dear mrs. macoubrey,--i was very sorry indeed to hear of mr. borrow's death. i thought he looked older the last time i saw him, but with his vigorous constitution i have not thought the end so near. you and mr. macoubrey have the comfort of knowing that you have attended affectionately to his declining years, which would otherwise have been very lonely. i have been abroad for a short time, and this has prevented me from replying to your kind letter before. pray receive the assurance of my sympathy, and with my kind remembrances to mr. macoubrey, believe me, yours very truly, r. h. inglis palgrave. three years later dr. macoubrey died in his eighty-fourth year, and was interred at oulton. mrs. macoubrey lived for a time at oulton and then removed to yarmouth. a letter that she wrote to a friend soon after the death of her husband is perhaps some index to her character: oulton cottage, oulton, nr. lowestoft, _sept. rd, ._ my dear sir,--i beg to thank you for your kind thought of me. on sunday night the th augst., it pleased god to take from me my excellent and beloved husband--his age was nearly . he sunk simply from age and weakness. i was his nurse by night and by day, administering constant nourishment, but he became weaker and weaker, till at last 'the silver cord was loosed.' my dear father died about this time three years since, which makes the blow more stunning. i feel very lonely now in my secluded residence on the banks of the broad--the music of the wild birds adds not to my pleasure now. trusting that yourself and mrs. s---- may long be spared.--believe me to remain, yours very truly, henrietta macoubrey. the cottage at oulton was soon afterwards pulled down, but the summer-house where borrow wrote a portion of his _bible in spain_ and his other works remained for some years. that ultimately an entirely new structure took its place may be seen by comparing the roof in mrs. macoubrey's drawing with the illustration of the structure as it is to-day. mrs. macoubrey died in at yarmouth, and the following inscription may be found on her tomb in oulton churchyard: sacred to the memory of henrietta mary, widow of william macoubrey, only daughter of lieut. henry clarke, r.n., and mary skepper, his wife, and stepdaughter of george henry borrow, esq., the celebrated author of _the bible in spain_, _the gypsies of spain_, _lavengro_, _the romany rye_, _wild wales_, and other works and translations. henrietta mary macoubrey was born at oulton hall in this parish, may th, , and died rd december . 'and he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.'--psalm xci. . the following extract from her will is of interest as indicating the trend of a singularly kindly nature. the intimate friends of mrs. macoubrey's later years, whose opinion is of more value than that of village gossips, speak of her in terms of sincere affection: i give the following charitable legacies, namely, to the london bible society, in remembrance of the great interest my dear father, george henry borrow, took in the success of its great work for the benefit of mankind, the sum of one hundred pounds. to the foreign missionary society the sum of one hundred pounds. to the london religious tract society the sum of one hundred pounds. to the london society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, the sum of one hundred pounds. footnotes: [ ] henrietta's guitar is now in my possession and is a very handsome instrument. [ ] henrietta macoubrey put every difficulty in the way of dr. knapp, and i hold many letters from her strongly denouncing his _life_. [ ] the stories against henrietta macoubrey have received endorsement from that pleasant writer mr. w. a. dutt, who has long lived near lowestoft. it is conveyed in such a communication as the following from a correspondent: 'after borrow's death mr. reeve, curator of norwich castle museum, visited the oulton house with the rev. j. gunn (died th may ), having some idea of buying borrow's books for the colman collection. mrs. macoubrey wanted £ for them, but mr. reeve did not think them worth more than £ . they were, however, bought by webber of ipswich, who soon afterwards entered into the employment of jarrold of norwich. mr. reeve described the scene as one of rank dilapidation and decay--evidences of extreme untidiness and neglect everywhere.' [ ] mr. herbert jenkins has drawn a quite wrong conclusion--although natural under the circumstances--from a letter he had seen in which borrow asked his wife for money. mrs. borrow kept the banking account. moreover, it is not generally known that borrow completed the possession of his wife's estate, including oulton hall farm and some cottage property, with the money that came to him from _the bible in spain_. [ ] 'george borrow reminiscences' in _the eastern daily press_, july , . [ ] mr. baldrey also gives us reminiscences of borrow's prowess as a swimmer: 'it was one of the signs of his perfect health and vigour that he was a fine swimmer. on one occasion george jay and john pilgrim were out for a sail in jay's old yacht, the _widgeon_. becalmed, they were drifting somewhere down by reedham, when suddenly borrow said, "george, how deep is it here?" "about twenty-two feet, sir," said george jay. the partners always called him "sir." "george," said borrow, "i am going to the bottom." straightway he stripped, dived, and presently came up with a handful of mud and weeds. "there, george," he said, "i've been to the bottom," some time in or , for borrow was then sixty-nine, my mother and i were walking on the beach at lowestoft, when just round the ness light we met borrow coming: towards us from the corton side. he got hold of my shoulder, and, pointing to the big black buoy beyond the ness, he said, "there! do you see that? i have just been out there. i have not been back many minutes." at the age of nearly seventy he had been round the ness buoy and home again--a wonderful performance if, in addition to his age, you remember the dangerous set of the currents thereabouts.' there is also a story, which comes to me from another quarter, of borrow skating upon the ice of oulton broad a few months before his death, and remarking that he had not skated since he was in russia. the following passage from mr. baldrey's narrative is interesting as showing that borrow did not in later life quite lose sight of his birthplace: 'apparently i interested him in some way, for twice while i was at school at east dereham he came over specially to take me out for the afternoon. he had ascertained from my mother which were the school half-holidays, and purposely chose those days so that i might be free. we would start off at half-past twelve and return at bedtime. where we went i could not tell you for certain, but i know that once we went through scarning and once through mattishall. what we talked about of course i cannot recall, for i was then a boy between and years of age, and i had no sort of inkling that my companion was even then a celebrity and destined to be a still greater one in the future. but i do remember that sometimes i could not get a word out of him for an hour or more, and that then suddenly he would break out with all sorts of questions. "i wonder if you can see what i can," he once remarked. "do you see that the gypsies have been here?" "no," i replied. "and you are not likely to," said he. and then he would tell me no more. he was rather prone to arouse one's curiosity and refuse to pursue the subject. i do not mean that he was morose. far from it. he was always very kind to me. after i had left school and returned to norwich he frequently called for me and took me out with him. once or twice i went with him to lowestoft.' [ ] one of them is entitled _the present crisis: the true cause of our indian troubles_, by william macoubrey of the middle temple. there are also countless pamphlets in manuscript. macoubrey was an enthusiastic and indeed truculent upholder of the act of union. [ ] the farm referred to was oulton hall farm, often referred to as oulton hall. [ ] another letter from miss harvey, dated st august, is one of sympathy, and there are passages in it that may well be taken to heart when it is considered that miss harvey was the most intimate friend of borrow and his stepdaughter: 'bury, _august st, ._ 'dearest friend,--though i cannot be with you in your trouble i am continually thinking of you, and praying that all needful help and comfort may be sent to you _as_ you need and _how_ you need it. i have no means of hearing any particulars, and am most anxious to know how you do, and how you have got through the last painful week. whenever you feel able write me a few words, i await them with much anxiety. when you are able to realise the _reality_ of his eternal gain--you will feel that all is well. a _great_ spirit, a great and noble spirit, has passed from the earth, his earthly tabernacle is taken down to be raised again--glorious and immortal, a fitting abode for a spirit of the just _made perfect_. how wonderful are those words, "made perfect." we are even now part of that grand assembly where they dwell. "we are come to the general assembly and church of the first born which are written in heaven. to god the judge of all, to jesus the mediator, to an innumerable company of angels, etc., to the _spirits of the just made perfect_." let us realise our communion with them even now, and _soon_ to meet them on the resurrection morn--when they who sleep in jesus will god _bring_ with him ... and so we shall be ever with the lord. ever with the lord, amen, so let it be, life from the dead is in that word, 'tis immortality. blessed are the dead which die in the lord, their _works_ do follow them. your beloved father's work in spain will follow _him_. his efforts to spread the word of god in that benighted land, ever has and ever will bring forth blessed fruits. dearest henrietta, be comforted, you have been a most devoted daughter to him, and latterly his greatest earthly comfort; your dear husband also; and together you have tended him to the last. he now rests in peace. all the sufferings of mind and body are over for ever. you will have much earthly business on your hands. i pray that you may be directed in all things by true wisdom. the time is short, we must set our houses in order, that we may not be unnecessarily burdened with earthly cares. having food and raiment, let us be therewith content. 'let us be without carefulness, and so quietly and piously spend the remnant of our days--ever growing in the knowledge of christ, and finding in _him_ all our comfort and all our joy, and when our own time of departure shall arrive may we be _ready_ and able to say, "i have a _desire_ to depart and be with christ, which is _far better_." the path of the just is as the shining light which shineth more and more unto the _perfect day_. may our path be so lighted up--until the day break and the shadows flee away. dearest friend, do write soon. i am so anxious to hear how dr. macoubrey is.--your most affect. friend, e. harvey. chapter xxxvii the aftermath 'we are all borrovians now.'--augustine birrell. it is a curious fact that of only two men of distinction in english letters in these later years can it be said that they lived to a good old age and yet failed of recognition for work that is imperishable. many poets have died young--shelley and keats for example--to whom this public recognition was refused in their lifetime. but given the happiness of reaching middle age, this recognition has never failed. it came, for example, to wordsworth and coleridge long after their best work was done. it came with more promptness to all the great victorian novelists. this recognition did not come in their lifetime to two suffolk friends, edward fitzgerald with _omar khayyám_ and george borrow with _lavengro_. in the case of fitzgerald there was probably no consciousness that he had produced a great poem. in any case his sunny irish temperament could easily have surmounted disappointment if he had expected anything from the world in the way of literary fame. borrow was quite differently made. he was as intense an egoist as rousseau, whose work he had probably never read, and would not have appreciated if he had read. he longed for the recognition of the multitude through his books, and thoroughly enjoyed it when it was given to him for a moment--for his _bible in spain_. such appreciation as he received in his lifetime was given to him for that book and for no other. there were here and there enthusiasts for his _lavengro_ and _romany rye_. dr. jessopp has told us that he was one. but it was not until long after his death that the word 'borrovian'[ ] came into the language. not a single great author among his contemporaries praised him for his _lavengro_, the book for which we most esteem him to-day. his name is not mentioned by carlyle or tennyson or ruskin in all their voluminous works. among the novelists also he is of no account. dickens and thackeray and george eliot knew him not. charlotte brontë does indeed write of him with enthusiasm,[ ] but she is alone among the great victorian authors in this particular. borrow's _lavengro_ received no commendation from contemporary writers of the first rank. he died in his seventy-eighth year an obscure recluse whose works were all but forgotten. since that year, , his fame has been continually growing. his greatest work, _lavengro_, has been reprinted with introductions by many able critics;[ ] notable essayists have proclaimed his worth. of these mr. watts-dunton and mr. augustine birrell have been the most assiduous. the efforts of the former have already been noted. mr. birrell has expressed his devotion in more than one essay.[ ] referring to a casual reference by robert louis stevenson to _the bible in spain_,[ ] in which r. l. s. speaks well of that book, mr. birrell, not without irony, says: it is interesting to know this, interesting, that is, to the great clan stevenson, who owe suit and service to their liege lord; but so far as borrow is concerned, it does not matter, to speak frankly, two straws. the author of _lavengro_, _the romany rye_, _the bible in spain_, and _wild wales_ is one of those kings of literature who never need to number their tribe. his personality will always secure him an attendant company, who, when he pipes, must dance. this is to sum up the situation to perfection. you cannot force people to become readers of borrow by argument, by criticism, or by the force of authority. you reach the stage of admiration and even love by effects which rise remote from all questions of style or taste. to say, as does a recent critic, that 'there is something in borrow after all; not so much as most people suppose, but still a great deal,'[ ] is to miss the compelling power of his best books as they strike those with whom they are among the finest things in literature.[ ] in attempting to interest new readers in the man--and this book is not for the sect called borrovians, to whom i recommend the earlier biographies, but for a wider public which knows not borrow--i hope i shall succeed in sending many to those incomparable works, which have given me so many pleasant hours. footnotes: [ ] a word that is very misleading, as no writer was ever so little the founder of a school. [ ] although this fact was not known until when i published _the brontës: life and letters_. see vol. ii. p. , where charlotte brontë writes: 'in george borrow's works i found a wild fascination, a vivid graphic power of description, a fresh originality, an athletic simplicity, which give them a stamp of their own.' [ ] theodore watts-dunton, augustine birrell, francis hindes groome, and thomas seccombe. lionel johnson's essay on borrow is the more valuable in its enthusiasm in that it was written by a roman catholic. writing in the _outlook_ (april , ) he said: 'what the four books mean and are to their lovers is upon this sort. written by a man of intense personality, irresistible in his hold upon your attention, they take you far afield from weary cares and business into the enamouring airs of the open world, and into days when the countryside was uncontaminated by the vulgar conventions which form the worst side of "civilised" life in cities. they give you the sense of emancipation, of manumission into the liberty of the winding road and fragrant forest, into the freshness of an ancient country-life, into a _milieu_ where men are not copies of each other. and you fall in with strange scenes of adventure, great or small, of which a strange man is the centre as he is the scribe; and from a description of a lonely glen you are plunged into a dissertation upon difficult old tongues, and from dejection into laughter, and from gypsydom into journalism, and everything is equally delightful, and nothing that the strange man shows you can come amiss. and you will hardly make up your mind whether he is most don quixote, or rousseau, or luther, or defoe; but you will always love these books by a brave man who travelled in far lands, travelled far in his own land, travelled the way of life for close upon eighty years, and died in perfect solitude. and this will be the least you can say, though he would not have you say it--_requiescat in pace viator_.' [ ] in _res judicatæ_ (a paper reprinted from _the reflector_, jan. , ), in his introduction to _lavengro_ (macmillan, ), in an essay entitled 'the office of literature,' in the second series of _obiter dicta_, and in an address at norwich; on july , , reprinted in full in the _eastern daily press_ of july , . [ ] there are but three references to borrow in stevenson's writings, all of them perfunctory. these are in _memories and portraits_ ('a gossip on a novel of dumas''), in _familiar studies of men and books_ ('some aspects of robert burns'), and in _the ideal house_. [ ] _the spectator_, july , . [ ] on july , , dr. h. c. beeching, dean of norwich, preached a sermon on borrow in norwich cathedral, which in its graceful literary enthusiasm may be counted the culminating point of recognition of borrow so far, when the place is considered. the sermon has been published by jarrold and sons of norwich. index a aikin, dr., quarrels with phillips, . ---- lucy, ; on mrs. john taylor, ; on william taylor, . ainsworth, harrison, _lavengro_ criticised by, . _ancient poetry and romances of spain_, by bowring, . andré, major, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . _annals of the harford family_, reference to borrow in, . _apologia pro vita sua_, by j. h. newman, . arden, f., . _athenæum, the_, founding of, ; hasfeld's letter on russian literature and borrow in, - ; friendly review of _the zincali_ in, ; publishes letters from borrow, ; severely criticises _lavengro_, , and _romany rye,_ ; reminiscences of borrow contributed to, - ; contemptuous notice of _romano lavo-lil_ in, ; obituary of borrow in, . austin, john, . ---- sarah, . _autobiographical recollections of sir john bowring_, . _autobiography of harriet martineau_, quoted, . b baldrey, s. h., reminiscences of the borrows published by, - . barbauld, mrs., , . barclay, mrs. florence, addresses bible society meeting, - . _bards of the gael and gaul_, by dr. sigerson; editions published of, . baretti, joseph, witnesses at trial of, . barron, james, on borrow's itinerary in scotland, , . bathurst, bishop, , . beeching, dr., ; graceful recognition of borrow in sermon of, . belcher, pugilist, , . bell, catherine, . _benjamin robert haydon; correspondence and table talk_, by f. w. haydon, . benson, a. c., verses on 'my poet,' . best, mr. justice, his 'great mind,' . _bible in spain, the_, , , , ; much sheer invention in, , ; quoted, - , , - ; episode of the blind girl, ; brings fame to borrow, , - ; the title of, - ; criticisms of mr. murray's reader on copy of--number of copies sold--referred to in house of commons, ; reviews of, , , ; how written, ; gladstone's admiration of, , ; cowell's opinion of, . birrell, augustine, , ; story told by, ; introduction to _lavengro_ by, , . _blackwood's magazine_, condemns _lavengro_, . borrow, ann, mother of borrow , , , , ; life in norwich of, - , ; correspondence of, , - , , - , ; death--inscription on tomb of, . borrow, elizabeth, . ---- george henry, biographical drafts and family history of, - ; wandering childhood of, - ; schooldays and schoolfellows at norwich of, - ; struggles and failure in london, - ; celtic ancestry of, ; characteristics of, , , , , - , - , , , , - , ; agent for bible society, , ; facsimile of an account of the society with, ; work for the society in --portugal, - --russia, - --spain, - ; imprisonments of, , , , ; correspondence of, with --bowring, - --brackenbury, - --ford, - --haydon, --jerningham, --henrietta macoubrey, - --publishers of _faustus_, --secretary at war, - --his wife, - , - , - , , - , ; darwin asks information from, - ; handwriting of, ; fails to become a magistrate, , - ; feeling of, as regards people and language of ireland, , - ; friends of later years, - ; life of, in london, - --in oulton broad and yarmouth, - ; attainments of, as a linguist, , , , , - , ; advertisement of, as a professor of languages, ; his ignorance of philology, ; literary tastes of, , , , , - , ; literary methods of, - , ; attitude towards literary men of, , , ; marriage of, , - , - , ; personal appearance of, , - , , - , - , , , - ; physical vigour of, , - ; political sympathies of, ; existing portraits of, ; pugilistic tastes of, - ; on a phase of folklore, - ; on theory of jewish origin of the gypsies, - ; on spiritualism, ; translations by, , - , , , - ; travels in --austria-hungary, - --greece and italy, - --ireland, - --portugal, - --russia, - --scotland, - --spain, - --wales, - , - ; unfounded reports as to neglect of, when dying, - ; unrecognised genius and growing fame of, - , - ; yarmouth rescue episode, - . borrow, henry, . ---- john, grandfather of george henry, - . ---- john thomas, , , , ; captain borrow's love of, , ; described in _lavengro_, - ; pictures by, ; career and death of, - . ---- mary, , , , , ; correspondence with --ann borrow, - --g. h. borrow, - , , - , , - , - --clarke, - --hake, - ; epitaph written for, by borrow, ; family history of, - ; housekeeping genius of, ; marriage of, - , ; unpublished works of, ; death of, , . ---- captain thomas, , , , , , ; descent of, - ; military career of, - ; references to, in _lavengro_, - ; prejudiced against the irish, , ; pensioned off, ; his fight with big ben brain, , . ---- william, . bowring, sir john, collaboration with borrow, ; correspondence of, with borrow, - , - , , - ; described by borrow, - ; borrow's misunderstanding with, ; borrow's relations with, - . boyd, robert, . brace, charles l., . brackenbury, mr., letter from, to borrow, - . brain, big ben, supposed fight between captain borrow and, , , ; career of, , . brandram, rev. mr., ; correspondence of, with borrow, - , - , - , - ; letter from, to mrs. borrow, ; reproduction of portion of borrow's letter to, . brightwell, cecilia, letter from, to mary borrow, . british and foreign bible society, aided by the gurneys, ; borrow's connection with, , , - ; growth and procedure of, - ; sanctioned in russia by the czar, - ; number of bibles issued in spain for three years up to , ; work of, in spain, - ; facsimile of an account with borrow of the, ; breezy controversy between borrow and the, . brodripp, a. a., . brontë, charlotte, writes of borrow with enthusiasm, . _brontës, the_, by clement shorter, quoted, . brooke, rajah, , , . brown, rev. arthur, , . browne, sir thomas, . browning, robert, . buchini, antonio, borrow's attendant in spain, . bunsens, the invitation given to borrow by, . bunyan, what borrow owed to, . burcham, thomas, ; letter from, to _the britannia_ on _lavengro_, . burke, edmund, . _bury post, the_, account in, of lifesaving by borrow at yarmouth, . buxton, sir t. f., . ---- lady, , . c cagliostro, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . caius, john, . campbell, thomas, , . cannon, sergeant, . canton, william, . carlyle, thomas, , ; point of similitude between borrow and, ; on edward fitzgerald, ; prejudiced against scott, , . _celebrated trials_, borrow's first piece of hack-work, ; payment made to borrow for, ; distinguishing feature of, ; dramatic episodes in, - . _celtic bards_, unpublished work of borrow, , ; merits of, . _chiefs and kings_, unpublished work of borrow, ; merits of, . _christ's entry into jerusalem_, picture by haydon, . clarendon, earl of, ; befriends borrow in spain, , ; career of, and services to borrow, - ; facsimile of letter to borrow from, . clarke, lieutenant henry, , . ---- dr. samuel, . cobbe, frances power, ; her opinion of borrow, ; her story of borrow and james martineau, ; unkindly glimpses of borrow given by--her character and works, - ; borrow's rudeness to, . cobham, lord, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . cockburn, lord, on david haggart, . coke, lord chief justice, . collins, mortimer, his appreciation of _wild wales_, - ; works of, . collinson, robert, . combe, george, phrenological observations of, regarding david haggart, . cooke, robert, . _cornhill magazine, the_, reviews _wild wales_ unfavourably, . 'corporation feast, the,' plate of, borrowed for _life and death of faustus_, . cowell, professor e. c., friendship of, with fitzgerald, - ; describes interview with borrow, - . cowper, poet, borrow's devotion to, , . cozens-hardy, a., . crabbe, mrs., . ---- george, fitzgerald's letter to, . cribb, pugilist, , . croft, sir herbert, . crome, john, , , , . cunningham, mrs., . ---- allan, writes introduction in verse to _romantic ballads_; correspondence with borrow, ; encourages borrow, - . cunningham, rev. francis, befriends borrow with the bible society, , , , ; his praise of borrow, , . ---- rev. john w., , . d _dairyman's daughter, the_, extraordinary vogue of, ; borrow's failure to appreciate, . dalrymple, arthur, on schooldays of borrow, - ; on borrow and his wife, ; ridicules story of lifesaving by borrow at yarmouth, . ---- john, joins borrow in a schoolboy escapade, , . darwin, charles, facsimile of letter from, asking for information, regarding the dogs of spain, from borrow, - . _death of balder, the_, translation by borrow, , ; issued by jarrold, . _deceived merman, the_, versions by borrow and matthew arnold compared, - . defoe, daniel, borrow's master in literature, , , . denniss, rev. e. p., acrid correspondence between borrow and, . d'eterville, thomas, borrow's teacher, - . diaz, maria, borrow's tribute to, . dickens, charles, . _dictionary of national biography_, article on borrow in, . donne, w. b., letters to borrow, , - ; awards high praise to _romany rye_ and _lavengro_, - . drake, william, description of borrow by, . duff-gordon, lady a., . dumpling green, birthplace of borrow, , , . dutt, w. a., on borrow and james martineau, - ; on state of oulton house after borrow's death, . e east dereham, described in _lavengro_, , . _eastern daily press, the_, 'george borrow reminiscences' published in, - ; miss harvey's letter on borrow in, - . eastlake, lady, her description of borrow, - . edinburgh, childhood of borrow in, - . _edinburgh review_, reviews borrow's works, . egan, pierce, . elwin, rev. whitwell, his estimate of _lavengro_, , ; his interview with, and impressions of, borrow, - ; letters to borrow from, - ; reviews _romany rye_ in _quarterly review_, ; writes obituary of borrow in _athenæum_, . enghien, duc d', trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . _english gypsies, the_, by charles g. leland, . _essays critical and historical_, by j. h. newman, quoted, . _examiner, the_, at one time only paper read by borrow, . _excursions along the shores of the mediterranean_, attractive glimpse of borrow in, - . f fauntleroy, henry, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, - . _faustus_, translated by borrow, - , , , ; burned by libraries of norwich, ; criticisms on, . fell, ralph, compiles memoirs of phillips, . fenn, lady, commemorated by cowper, and in _lavengro_--books for children by, . ---- sir john, author of paston letters, . fielding, what borrow owed to, . fig, james, . findlater, jane h., on the title of _the bible in spain_, . fitzgerald, edward, parallel between borrow and,--works of, - ; character and gifts of, ; marriage of, ; letters to borrow, - , - ; criticises borrow's expressions, . _footprints of george borrow_, by a. g. jayne, . ford, richard, , ; family history and fortune of, - ; anti-democratic outlook of, ; his tribute to borrow--reviews _the bible in spain_, ; correspondence with the borrows, , - ; odd sentence referring to borrow, in a letter of, ; advice given to borrow by, , ; his ideas about _lavengro_, ; on _the zincali_, , ; his work, , , , . ---- sir richard, creator of mounted police force of london, . fox, caroline, . francis, john collins, . _frazer's magazine_, _lavengro_ condemned by, . _french prisoners of norman cross, the_, by rev. arthur brown, . fry, elizabeth, - ; connection of, with bible society, ; the courtship of, - . g garrick, david, . 'george borrow reminiscences,' by s. h. baldrey, quoted, - . _george borrow's letters to the bible society_, - . _george borrow; the man and his work_, account of borrow's cornish journey in, . gibson, robin, . gifford, william, ; letter from, to borrow, criticising a friend's play, - . gill, rev. w., letter to borrow from, . gypsies, language of, studied by borrow, , ; borrow's description of hungarian, . gladstone, w. e., his admiration of _the bible in spain_, . glen, william, borrow's friendship with, - . gould, j. c., . graydon, lieutenant, a rival of borrow in spain, ; borrow's attack upon, . groome, archdeacon, his memories of borrow's schooldays, . ---- f. h., gipsy scholar, ; writes introduction to _lavengro_, ; reviews _romano lavo-lil_, , - ; works of, . grundtvig, mr., borrow's translations for, , . gully, john, career of, . gunn, rev. j., . gurdons, the, subscribe to borrow's 'romantic ballads,' . gurney, miss anna, letter from, to mrs. borrow, - ; borrow cross-examined in arabic by, . ---- daniel, . ---- john, - . ---- joseph john, connection of with great bank, - ; and with bible society, ; his praise of borrow, . gurneys, the, at norwich, - ; subscribe to borrow's 'romantic ballads,' . _gurneys of earlham, the_, by a. j. c. hare, quoted, . _gypsies of spain, the._ see _zincali, the_. h hackman, parson, trial of, in borrow's volumes, . haggart, david, ; story of, - ; trial and execution of--verses written by, . hake, egmont, article of, in _dictionary of national biography_, on borrow, ; his reminiscence of borrow, . ---- dr. t. g., , ; on _lavengro_, , , - ; his intimacy with borrow, - ; relations of, with the rossetti family, ; asperities of, when speaking of borrow, , , ; memoir of, in the _athenæum_, . hamilton, duke of, . _handbook for travellers in spain_, by richard ford, ; borrow's blundering review of, , ; maxwell's praise of, . hare, augustus j. c., . hares, the, . harper, lieutenant, . harvey, miss elizabeth, her impressions of borrow, - ; letters to mrs. macoubrey from, - . harveys, the, . hasfeld, john p., , ; borrow's correspondence with, - ; high praise of _targum_ by, . hawkes, robert, , ; painting of, - . hawthorne, nathaniel, suggestion of, as to gypsy descent of borrow, , , . haydon, benjamin, ; career of, - ; correspondence of, with borrow, , - . hayim ben attar, moorish servant of borrow, , ; borrow's precautions in repatriating, - . hazlitt, william, on prize-fighting, - . heenan, pugilist, . herne, sanspirella, second wife of ambrose smith, - . hester, george p., writes to borrow on possible connection between sclaves and saxons, - . highland society, the, borrow's proposal to, - . hill, mary, . _historic survey of german poetry_, by william taylor, . _history of the british and foreign bible society_, by william canton, . hooper, james, letter from professor cowell to, - . howell, _state trials_ of, , . howitt, mary, her appreciation of _wild wales_, . hudson, pugilist, . _hungary in _, glimpse of borrow in, . hunt, joseph, trial and execution of, - . hyde, dr. douglas, irish scholar, ; success of _love songs of connaught_ by, . i _ida of athens_, judgment of phillips on, . _illustrated london news, the_, ; borrow's contribution to, on runic stone, - . image, w. e., last survivor of borrow's schoolfellows, . _in gipsy tents_, by f. h. groome, . ireland, borrow's early years in, - ; his feelings as regards people and language of, - . _iris, the_, editing of, . j jackson, john, pugilist, . _jane eyre_, cruelly reviewed by lady eastlake, . jay, elizabeth, on happy married life of the borrows, . ---- george, borrow on yacht of, - . jenkins, mr. herbert, , , , , . jerningham, sir george, letter from, to borrow, ; borrow's complaints to, . jessopp, dr., on borrow as a pupil at the grammar school, ; his admiration of borrow, - . joan of arc, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . johnson, publisher, his offers for _the wild irish girl_, . ---- catharine b., . ---- dr. samuel, ; on ireland and irish literature, ; his kindness for pugilists, . ---- tom, his fight with brain, . ---- lionel, his essay on borrow, . jones, ellen, on borrow's pronunciation of welsh, . _journal of the gypsy lore society_, , . jowett, rev. joseph, secretary of the bible society, ; correspondence of, with borrow, , - , . _judgment of solomon_, painting by john borrow, . k _kæmpe viser_, translation by borrow, - . keate, dr., . kerrison, alladay, ; invites john borrow to join him in mexico, . ---- roger, , ; borrow's correspondence with, , . ---- thomas, . kett, robert, . _kings and earls_, unpublished work of borrow, ; merits of, . kingsley, charles, . king, thomas, owner of the borrow house in willow lane--descent of, from archbishop parker, - . ---- ---- junior, career of--marries sister of j. s. mill,--burcham's allusion to, - . ---- tom, conqueror of heenan, . klinger, f. m. von, responsible for borrow's first book--works of, . knapp, dr., _life of borrow_ by, and _passim_; purchases half the borrow papers, . l lambert, daniel, gaoler of phillips, . lamplighter, racehorse, borrow's desire to see, . lang, andrew, his onslaught on borrow, . laurie, sir robert, . _lavengro_, appreciations of, - , , , ; autobiographical nature of, , , , , , , , - , , - , - , , - , ; copies of, sold, , - ; criticisms and reviews of, - , , ; donne on some reviewers of, - ; facsimile of first manuscript page of, ; greatness of, unrecognised in borrow's lifetime, - ; original manuscript title-page of, ; preparation of manuscript of, - , ; thurtell referred to in, - . _leicester herald_ started by phillips, - . leland, charles godfrey, correspondence of, with borrow, - ; his books--tribute to borrow, . _letters from egypt_, by lady a. duff-gordon, . _letters from george borrow to the bible society_, , , , ; valuable information in, - ; interesting facts revealed in, - ; quoted, , . _letters of richard ford_, , ; borrow's mistake in reviewing, . _life and adventures of joseph sell_, borrow's story of the writing of, . _life of borrow_, by dr. knapp, , , , and _passim_; glimpse of ann perfrement's girlhood in, ; gruesome picture of circumstances of borrow's death--strongly denounced by henrietta macoubrey, . _life of b. r. haydon_, by tom taylor, , . _life of david haggart_, by himself, . _life of frances power cobbe as told by herself_, glimpses of borrow in, - . _life of george borrow_, by herbert jenkins, , and _passim_; valuable information in, - ; quoted, , . _life of howard_, . _life of sir james mackintosh_, quoted, - . _lights on borrow_, by rev. a. jessopp, d.d., quoted, . lipóftsof, worker for bible society, , . _literary gazette, the_, reviews of borrow's works in, , . lloyd, miss m. c., . lofft, capell, . lopez, eduardo, . ---- juan, borrow's tribute to, - . _love songs of connaught_, by dr. hyde, success of, . m macaulay, zachary, connection of, with bible society, . maccoll, mr., . mace, jem, . mackay, william, his impressions of borrow related by, - . macoubrey, dr., , , ; status and accomplishments of, ; pamphlets issued by, ; illness and death of, - . macoubrey, henrietta, , , , , and _passim_; on borrow, ; borrow's tribute to, in _wild wales_--her devotion to borrow, ; unfounded stories of her neglect of borrow, - ; correspondence of, - ; death of--inscription on tomb of, ; charitable bequests of, - . man, isle of, borrow's expedition to, - ; his investigations into the manx language, - ; the runic stone, - . marie antoinette, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . martelli, c. f., his memories of borrow, . martineau, david, . ---- dr. james, on supposed gypsy descent of borrow, - ; impressions of, as schoolfellow of borrow, , , - . ---- gaston, . ---- harriet, ; on borrow's connection with the bible society, - . matthew, father, . mavor, dr., school-books issued by, . maxwell, sir w. s., praises ford's book, ; criticises _lavengro_, . meadows, margaret, . ---- sarah, . _memoir of the life and writings of william taylor of norwich, a_, by j. w. robbards, . _memoirs of fifty years_, by t. g. hake, , . _memoirs of john venning_, . _memoirs of lady morgan_, quoted, . _memoirs of the public and private life of sir richard phillips_, . _memoirs of vidocq_, translated by borrow, . mendizábal, borrow's interview with, , . _men of the time_, biographical drafts drawn up by borrow for, - . meyer, dr. kuno, irish scholar, ; work of, in irish literature, . mezzofanti, . miles, h. d., his defence of prize-fighting, . mill, john stuart, thomas king marries sister of, - . mitford, miss, . moira, lord, . mol, benedict, , . montague, basil, his reference to mrs. john taylor, - . _monthly magazine, the_, , , , ; borrow's work on, . moore, thomas, . _more leaves from the journal of a life in the highlands_, visit to gypsy encampment described in, . morgan, lady, works of, published by phillips, - . morrin, killed by david haggart, . morris, lewis, welsh bard, . ---- sir lewis, letter to borrow, - . mousehold heath, historical and artistic associations of, , . mousha, introduces borrow to taylor, ; figures in _lavengro_, - . murray, john, publishes _the zincali_, - ; borrow's relations with, - ; correspondence of borrow with, , - . ---- hon. r. d., . murtagh, irish friend of borrow--figures in _lavengro_, - . _museum, the_, . n nantes, edict of, borrow's ancestors driven from france by revocation of, , , . napier, admiral sir c., . ---- col. e., ; interesting account of borrow by, - . nelson, lord, a pupil of norwich grammar school, . _newgate calendar_, edited by borrow, , , . _newgate lives and trials_, borrow's work on, . newman, cardinal, influenced towards roman catholicism by scott, . _new monthly magazine, the_, . new testament, edited by borrow in manchu and spanish, . ney, marshal, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . nicholas, thomas, . norfolk, duke of, . norman cross, french prisoners at, , ; borrow's memories of, - . _northern skalds_, unpublished work of borrow, ; merits of, . norwich, , ; borrow's description of, - ; satirised by borrow, . _novice, the_, favourite book of william pitt, - . o o'connell, daniel, borrow's desire to see, . oliver, tom, pugilist, . _once a week_, borrow contributes to, . opie, mrs., . _oracle, the_, quoted, . orford, col. lord, , ; ann borrow's letter to, - . _outlook, the_, lionel johnson on borrow in, quoted, - . overend and gurney, banking firm, - . owen, goronwy, borrow's favourite welsh bard, - , . owenson, sydney. _see_ morgan, lady. p pahlin, . painter, edward, pugilist, . palgrave, sir francis, letter to borrow from, . ---- r. h. i., letters to mrs. macoubrey from, . palmer, professor e. h., gypsy scholar, . park, mr. justice, . parker, archbishop., pupil at norwich grammar school, . ---- archbishop (temp. queen elizabeth) descent of thomas king from, . paterson, john, work of, for bible society in russia, . pennell, mrs. elizabeth robins, her biography of leland, quoted, - . perfrement, mary, grandmother of borrow, , . ---- samuel, grandfather of borrow, , - . _personal and family glimpses of remarkable people_, by e. w. whately, quoted, . _peter schlemihl_, translated by bowring, . petrie, george, correspondence of borrow with, - . phillips, lady, . ---- h. w., portrait of borrow by, . ---- sir richard, , , ; early days of, - ; imprisonment of, - ; knighted, ; books published by, - ; relations of, with borrow, - . _phrenological observations, etc._, by george combe, . picts, the, borrow on, - . pilgrim, john, borrow's visits to, - . pinkerton, literary hack, . pischel, professor richard, criticises borrow's etymologies, . playfair, dr., . pope, influence of, on borrow, . pott, dr. a. f., gypsy scholar, , . _prayer book and homily society_, borrow's correspondence with, - . prize-fighting, borrow's taste for, , , - . probert, witness against thurtell, . prothero, rowland e., , . purcell, pugilist, - . purland, francis, companion of borrow in schoolboy escapade, - . ---- theodosius, - . pushkin, alexander, russian poet, translated by borrow, . q _quarterly review, the_, review of _lavengro_ in, ; of _romany rye_ in, . r rackham, tom, . rackhams, the, . _raising of lazarus_, picture by haydon, . randall, pugilist, . reay, martha, murdered by hackman, . 'recollections of george borrow,' by a. egmont hake in _athenæum_, quoted, . reeve, mr., on scene in oulton house after borrow's death, . ---- henry, . _res judicatæ_, by augustine birrell, . reynolds, sir joshua, . richmond, pugilist, . ---- legh, connection of, with bible society, . _rights of man_, phillips charged with selling, . robbards, j. w., writes memoir of william taylor, - . robertson, george, . _romance of bookselling_, by mumby, . _romano lavo-lil,_ manuscript of, ; published by murray, ; reviews of, , , , . _romantic ballads_, translation from the danish by borrow, - , , , . _romany rye, the_, , , - , ; appreciations of, - , - , , , ; autobiographical nature of, - , - ; borrow embittered by failure of, ; characters in, ; defects of appendix, - ; facsimile of page of manuscript of, ; identification of localities of, - ; philological criticism of, ; preparation of manuscript of, ; quoted, ; reviews of, , . ross, janet, . rowe, quartermaster, . _rubáiyát,_ fitzgerald's paraphrase, ; quoted in original and translated, - ; tennyson's eulogy of, . rye, walter, . s st. petersburg, borrow in, - . sampson, john, eminent gypsy expert--extraordinary suggestion, of, regarding borrow, ; criticises borrow's etymologies, . sam the jew, pugilist, . samuel, a. m., lord mayor of norwich--presents borrow house to norwich, . sayers, dr., . ---- tom, pugilist, . scott, sir walter, ; borrow's prejudice against, , , ; influence of, on j. h. newman, ; taylor's influence on, ; interest of, in thurtell's trial, ; writings of, admired by borrow, . scroggins, pugilist, . seccombe, thomas, introduction to _lavengro_ by, , . _servian popular poetry_, by bowring, . sharp, granville, connection with bible society of, . shaw, g. b., his kindness for the pugilist, . shelton, pugilist, . sidney, algernon, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . sigerson, dr., irish scholar, ; success of _bards of the gael and gaul_, by, . simeon, charles, connection with bible society of, . simpson, william, borrow articled to, - ; described by borrow, - . skepper, anne, , , , . ---- breame, , , . ---- edmund, , . ---- edward, . _sleeping bard, the_, translation by borrow, ; his mistakes in, ; refused by publishers, , , , , , ; printed at his own expense, . smiles, samuel, on publication of _the zincali_, - . smith, ambrose, the jasper petulengro of _lavengro_, - . ---- f[=a]den, . ---- thomas, . _songs from scandinavia_, translation by borrow, ; prospectus of, ; future publication of, - ; page of manuscript of, . _songs of europe_, metrical translation by borrow, , . _songs of scotland_, by allan cunningham, borrow's appreciation of, . southey, robert, affection of, for william taylor, ; on death of taylor, . spalding, frederick, . _spectator, the_, point of view of criticism of borrow of, ; reviews _wild wales_, . _sphere, the_, article on borrow and martineau in, - . _state trials_, - . stephen, sir j. fitzjames, . ---- sir leslie, . stevenson, r. l., perfunctory references to borrow in writings of, . stoddard, mr., burcham's reference to, . story, a. t., reminiscences of borrow by, - . struensee, count, trial of, included in borrow's volumes, . stuart, mrs. james, . suffolk, duke of, . summers, william, . swan, rev. william, . t _talisman, the_, translation by borrow, . _targum_, translation by borrow, , ; high praise of, - , , , ; facsimile of a poem from, . taylor, anne, describes borrow's appearance, . ---- baron, borrow's meeting with, . ---- dr. john, . ---- john, . ---- mrs. john, ; basil montague on, - . ---- richard, . ---- robert, . ---- tom, author of _life of b. r. haydon_, , . ---- william, , ; dialogue in _lavengro_ between borrow and, - , - ; gives borrow lessons in german, - ; gives borrow introductions to phillips and campbell, ; his love of paradox, ; influence of, on borrow, ; harriet martineau on, - ; his friends and literary work, - ; correspondence with southey, - ; his testimony to borrow's knowledge of german, . taylors, the, at norwich, , - . tennyson on enthusiasm for lycidas, ; his eulogy of fitzgerald's translation of the _rubáiyát_, . thackeray, w. m., borrow's attitude towards, , ; on edward fitzgerald, ; hake's severe reference to, . _theodore watts-dunton: poet, novelist, critic,_ by james douglas, quoted, . thompson, t. w., article of, on jasper petulengro, . ---- w. h., . _three generations of englishwomen_, by janet ross, . thurtell, alderman, , . ---- john, , ; trial of--glimpses of, in borrow's books, - ; great authors who have commented on crime of, . timbs, john, ; stories told by, , . tom of bedford, pugilist, . treve, captain, . _turkish jester, the_, by borrow, ; issued by webber, . turner, dawson, , . ---- ned, pugilist, . _twelve essays on the phenomena of nature_, phillips anxious to produce in a german dress, . _twelve essays on the proximate causes_, borrow unable to translate into german--published in german, . u _universal review, the_, ; borrow's work on, . upcher, a. w., contributes reminiscences of borrow to the _athenæum_, . usóz y rio, don luis de, letters from, to borrow, - . v valpy, rev. e., borrow's schoolmaster--story of borrow being flogged by, - . venning, john, work of, in russia--befriends borrow, - . victoria, queen, visits gypsy encampment, . vidocq, ; memoirs of, translated by borrow, . w _wahrheit und dichtung_, opening lines of, compared with those of _lavengro_, . _walks and talks about london_, ; story told of phillips in, . walling, r. a. j., biography of borrow by, - . walpole, horace, on mr. fenn, . wanton, s. w., letter to borrow from, - . waterfield, mrs., . watts-dunton, theodore, criticism of borrow's work, , ; description of personal appearance of borrow, - ; friendship with borrow, ; on intimacy between borrow and hake, - ; introduction to _lavengro_ by, , ; on borrow's loyalty in friendship, ; on poetic gifts of borrow, ; reminiscences of borrow, - ; sonnet written by, . weare pamphlets, - . ---- william, murder of, , . webber, borrow's books bought by, . _westminster review_, . whately, archdeacon, description of borrow by, . whewell, dr., . wilberforce, william, connection of, with bible society, . wilcock, rev. j., his impressions of borrow, - . _wild irish girl, the_, the publication of, , . _wild wales_, , , , , ; appreciations of, , , , - ; comparative failure of, , ; comparison of, with borrow's three other great works, - ; facsimiles of two pages from borrow's pocket-books, and of title-page of manuscript, , ; high spirits of, ; lope de vega's ghost-story referred to in, ; reviews of, ; time taken to write, . _wilhelm meister_, quoted, . _william bodham donne and his friends,_ borrow described in, . williams, lieutenant, . ---- j. evan, letter from borrow to, on similarity of some sclavonian and welsh words, - . wolcot, dr., . woodhouses, the, . wordsworth, borrow's estimate of, - . wormius, olaus, . wright, dr. aldis, , . y _young cottager, the_, by legh richmond, extraordinary vogue of, . z _zincali, the_, work by borrow, , , , ; reference to borrow's travels in, ; criticisms of, - ; number of copies of, sold, ; editions of, issued, - . transcribed from the chatto & windus edition by david price, email ccx @coventry.ac.uk the pocket george borrow passages chosen from the works of borrow by edward thomas to my brother julian. note when a man has read once, or twice, or three times, through borrow's books, he will probably dip into them here and there at intervals. by so doing he gradually makes his own anthology; but it may be that he will yet find place for another man's, if it has no pretension to completeness or authority, and will go into his pocket. borrow is not a pithy writer, nor is he best when sententious; the following passages are, therefore, somewhat longer than is usual in this series of anthologies. even so, many of the best things in his books, especially from wild wales, have had to be omitted, because they are longer still. but this selection aims only at giving strangers to borrow an invitation or challenge, and lovers a few sprigs of his heather for a keepsake. those who find themselves disagreeing with it may at any rate have had their own taste cleared and braced in the process. edward thomas. borrow's writings romantic ballads targum zincali: the gypsies of spain the bible in spain lavengro romany rye wild wales the sleeping bard romano lavo-lil the turkish jester and other translations contents it is very possible that the reader . . . zincali "are you of the least use?" . . . lavengro "people are becoming vastly sharp" . . . lavengro "will you take a glass of wine?" . . . lavengro one day it happened . . . lavengro because they have been known . . . zincali one fact has always struck us . . . zincali many of them reside in caves . . . zincali it has always struck me . . . lavengro a sound was heard . . . lavengro after much feasting . . . zincali the english gypsies . . . zincali "i say, jasper!" . . . romany rye "what is your opinion of death, mr. petulengro?" . . . lavengro beating of women . . . romany rye of my wife . . . wild wales in the summer. . . . wild wales fear god, and take your own part . . . romany rye soldiers and sailors . . romany rye there they come, the bruisers . . . lavengro the writer now wishes . . . romany rye "no," said i . . . romany rye oh, genial and gladdening! . . . lavengro on the whole . . . romany rye on the following day . . . romany rye the binding . . . lavengro i commenced the bible in spain . . . zincali and, as i wandered . . . lavengro at length the moon shone out . . . bible in spain upon the shoulder of the goatherd . . . bible in spain i have always found . . . bible in spain "c'est moi, mon maitre" . . . bible in spain after travelling four days and nights . . . bible in spain the posada. . . . bible in spain the landlord brought the ale . . . wild wales "young gentleman" . . . lavengro becoming soon tired . . . wild wales late in the afternoon . . . bible in spain i had till then . . . bible in spain "what mountains are those?" . . . bible in spain we had scarcely been five minutes . . . bible in spain i have heard talk . . . lavengro "well," said the old man . . . lavengro i sat upon the bank . . . lavengro ah, that irish! . . . lavengro i said: "now, murtagh!" . . . romany rye here i interrupted . . . romany rye "and who is jerry grant?" . . . lavengro "is it a long time?" . . . wild wales now, a tinker . . . lavengro "did you speak, don jorge" . . . bible in spain francis ardry and myself . . . romany rye after a slight breakfast . . . . romany rye i did not like reviewing . . . . lavengro a lad, who twenty tongues can talk . . . romantic ballads "he is a great fool" . . . romany rye i informed the landlord . . . romany rye "when you are a gentleman" . . . romany rye i was bidding him farewell . . . romany rye at the dead hour of night . . . lavengro i should say . . . lavengro to the generality of mankind . . . lavengro i cannot help thinking . . . lavengro o, cheapside! . . . lavengro oh, that ride! . . . lavengro of one thing i am certain . . . lavengro my curiosity . . . bible in spain the morning of the fifth of november . . . wild wales "good are the horses of the moslems" . . . bible in spain "the burra," i replied . . . bible in spain i was standing on the castle hill . . . lavengro in spain i passed five years . . . bible in spain on the afternoon of the th of december . . . bible in spain i know of few things . . . bible in spain it was not without reason . . . bible in spain apropos of bull-fighters . . . bible in spain the waiter drew the cork . . . romany rye leaving the bridge . . . lavengro i went to belle's habitation . . . romany rye i found belle seated by a fire . . . lavengro i put some fresh wood on the fire . . . lavengro after ordering dinner . . . wild wales the strength of the ox . . . the targum i began to think . . . romany rye on i went . . . romany rye as i was gazing . . . wild wales "pray, gentleman, walk in!" . . . wild wales now, real republicanism . . . romany rye "does your honour remember?" . . . wild wales i was the last of the file . . . wild wales for dinner . . . wild wales came to tregeiriog . . . wild wales the name "pump saint" . . . wild wales after the days of the great persecution . . . zincali george borrow selected passages it is very possible that the reader during his country walks or rides has observed, on coming to four cross-roads, two or three handfuls of grass lying at a small distance from each other down one of these roads; perhaps he may have supposed that this grass was recently plucked from the roadside by frolicsome children, and flung upon the ground in sport, and this may possibly have been the case; it is ten chances to one, however, that no children's hands plucked them, but that they were strewed in this manner by gypsies, for the purpose of informing any of their companions, who might be straggling behind, the route which they had taken; this is one form of the patteran or trail. it is likely, too, that the gorgio reader may have seen a cross drawn at the entrance of a road, the long part or stem of it pointing down that particular road, and he may have thought nothing of it, or have supposed that some sauntering individual like himself had made the mark with his stick: not so, courteous gorgio; ley tiro solloholomus opre lesti, _you may take your oath upon it_ that it was drawn by a gypsy finger, for that mark is another of the rommany trails; there is no mistake in this. once in the south of france, when i was weary, hungry, and penniless, i observed one of these last patterans, and following the direction pointed out, arrived at the resting-place of 'certain bohemians,' by whom i was received with kindness and hospitality, on the faith of no other word of recommendation than patteran. there is also another kind of patteran, which is more particularly adapted for the night; it is a cleft stick stuck at the side of the road, close by the hedge, with a little arm in the cleft pointing down the road which the band have taken, in the manner of a signpost; any stragglers who may arrive at night where cross-roads occur search for this patteran on the left-hand side, and speedily rejoin their companions. by following these patterans, or trails, the first gypsies on their way to europe never lost each other, though wandering amidst horrid wildernesses and dreary denies. rommany matters have always had a peculiar interest for me; nothing, however, connected with gypsy life ever more captivated my imagination than this patteran system: many thanks to the gypsies for it; it has more than once been of service to me. * * * * * 'are you of the least use? are you not spoken ill of by everybody? what's a gypsy?' 'what's the bird noising yonder, brother?' 'the bird! oh, that's the cuckoo tolling; but what has the cuckoo to do with the matter?' 'we'll see, brother; what's the cuckoo?' 'what is it? you know as much about it as myself, jasper.' 'isn't it a kind of roguish, chaffing bird, brother?' 'i believe it is, jasper.' 'nobody knows whence it comes, brother?' 'i believe not, jasper.' 'very poor, brother, not a nest of its own?' 'so they say, jasper.' 'with every person's bad word, brother?' 'yes, jasper; every person is mocking it.' 'tolerably merry, brother?' 'yes, tolerably merry, jasper.' 'of no use at all, brother?' 'none whatever, jasper.' 'you would be glad to get rid of the cuckoos, brother?' 'why, not exactly, jasper; the cuckoo is a pleasant, funny bird, and its presence and voice give a great charm to the green trees and fields; no, i can't say i wish exactly to get rid of the cuckoo.' 'well, brother, what's a rommany chal?' 'you must answer that question yourself, jasper.' 'a roguish, chaffing, fellow; ain't he, brother?' 'ay, ay, jasper.' 'of no use at all, brother?' 'just so, jasper; i see--' 'something very much like a cuckoo, brother?' 'i see what you are after, jasper.' 'you would like to get rid of us, wouldn't you?' 'why, no; not exactly.' 'we are no ornament to the green lanes in spring and summer time; are we, brother? and the voices of our chies, with their cukkerin and dukkerin, don't help to make them pleasant?' 'i see what you are at, jasper.' 'you would wish to turn the cuckoos into barn-door fowls, wouldn't you?' 'can't say i should, jasper, whatever some people might wish.' 'and the chals and chies into radical weavers and factory wenches; hey, brother?' 'can't say that i should, jasper. you are certainly a picturesque people, and in many respects an ornament both to town and country; painting and lil writing too are under great obligations to you. what pretty pictures are made out of your campings and groupings, and what pretty books have been written in which gypsies, or at least creatures intended to represent gypsies, have been the principal figures. i think if we were without you, we should begin to miss you.' 'just as you would the cuckoos, if they were all converted into barn-door fowls. i tell you what, brother; frequently, as i have sat under a hedge in spring or summer time, and heard the cuckoo, i have thought that we chals and cuckoos are alike in many respects, but especially in character. everybody speaks ill of us both, and everybody is glad to see both of us again.' * * * * * 'people are becoming vastly sharp,' said mr. petulengro; 'and i am told that all the old-fashioned good-tempered constables are going to be set aside, and a paid body of men to be established, who are not to permit a tramper or vagabond on the roads of england; and talking of roads, puts me in mind of a strange story i heard two nights ago, whilst drinking some beer at a public-house, in company with my cousin sylvester. i had asked tawno to go, but his wife would not let him. just opposite me, smoking their pipes, were a couple of men, something like engineers, and they were talking of a wonderful invention which was to make a wonderful alteration in england; inasmuch as it would set aside all the old roads, which in a little time would be ploughed up, and sowed with corn, and cause all england to be laid down with iron roads, on which people would go thundering along in vehicles, pushed forward by fire and smoke. now, brother, when i heard this, i did not feel very comfortable; for i thought to myself, what a queer place such a road would be to pitch one's tent upon, and how impossible it would be for one's cattle to find a bite of grass upon it; and i thought likewise of the danger to which one's family would be exposed of being run over and severely scorched by these same flying fiery vehicles; so i made bold to say, that i hoped such an invention would never be countenanced, because it was likely to do a great deal of harm. whereupon, one of the men, giving me a glance, said, without taking the pipe out of his mouth, that for his part, he sincerely hoped that it would take effect; and if it did no other good than stopping the rambles of gypsies, and other like scamps, it ought to be encouraged. well, brother, feeling myself insulted, i put my hand into my pocket, in order to pull out money, intending to challenge him to fight for a five-shilling stake, but merely found sixpence, having left all my other money at the tent; which sixpence was just sufficient to pay for the beer which sylvester and myself were drinking, of whom i couldn't hope to borrow anything--"poor as sylvester" being a by-word amongst us. so, not being able to back myself, i held my peace, and let the gorgio have it all his own way, who, after turning up his nose at me, went on discoursing about the said invention, saying what a fund of profit it would be to those who knew how to make use of it, and should have the laying down of the new roads, and the shoeing of england with iron. and after he had said this, and much more of the same kind, which i cannot remember, he and his companion got up and walked away; and presently i and sylvester got up and walked to our camp; and there i lay down in my tent by the side of my wife, where i had an ugly dream of having camped upon an iron road; my tent being overturned by a flying vehicle; my wife's leg injured; and all my affairs put into great confusion.' * * * * * 'will you take a glass of wine?' 'yes.' 'that's right; what shall it be?' 'madeira!' the magistrate gave a violent slap on his knee; 'i like your taste,' said he, 'i am fond of a glass of madeira myself, and can give you such a one as you will not drink every day; sit down, young gentleman, you shall have a glass of madeira, and the best i have.' thereupon he got up, and, followed by his two terriers, walked slowly out of the room. i looked round the room, and, seeing nothing which promised me much amusement, i sat down, and fell again into my former train of thought. 'what is truth?' said i. 'here it is,' said the magistrate, returning at the end of a quarter of an hour, followed by the servant with a tray; 'here's the true thing, or i am no judge, far less a justice. it has been thirty years in my cellar last christmas. there,' said he to the servant, 'put it down, and leave my young friend and me to ourselves. now, what do you think of it?' 'it is very good,' said i. 'did you ever taste better madeira?' 'i never before tasted madeira.' 'then you ask for a wine without knowing what it is?' 'i ask for it, sir, that i may know what it is.' 'well, there is logic in that, as parr would say; you have heard of parr?' 'old parr?' 'yes, old parr, but not that parr; you mean the english, i the greek parr, as people call him.' 'i don't know him.' 'perhaps not--rather too young for that, but were you of my age, you might have cause to know him, coming from where you do. he kept school there, i was his first scholar; he flogged greek into me till i loved him--and he loved me. he came to see me last year, and sat in that chair; i honour parr--he knows much, and is a sound man.' 'does he know the truth?' 'know the truth! he knows what's good, from an oyster to an ostrich--he's not only sound but round.' 'suppose we drink his health?' 'thank you, boy: here's parr's health, and whiter's.' 'who is whiter?' 'don't you know whiter? i thought everybody knew reverend whiter, the philologist, though i suppose you scarcely know what that means. a man fond of tongues and languages, quite out of your way--he understands some twenty; what do you say to that?' 'is he a sound man?' 'why, as to that, i scarcely know what to say; he has got queer notions in his head--wrote a book to prove that all words came originally from the earth--who knows? words have roots, and roots live in the earth; but, upon the whole, i should not call him altogether a sound man, though he can talk greek nearly as fast as parr.' 'is he a round man?' 'ay, boy, rounder than parr; i'll sing you a song, if you like, which will let you into his character:-- '"give me the haunch of a buck to eat, and to drink madeira old, and a gentle wife to rest with, and in my arms to fold, an arabic book to study, a norfolk cob to ride, and a house to live in shaded with trees, and near to a river side; with such good things around me, and blessed with good health withal, though i should live for a hundred years, for death i would not call." here's to whiter's health--so you know nothing about the fight?' 'no, sir; the truth is, that of late i have been very much occupied with various matters, otherwise i should, perhaps, have been able to afford you some information. boxing is a noble art.' 'can you box?' 'a little.' 'i tell you what, my boy; i honour you, and, provided your education had been a little less limited, i should have been glad to see you here in company with parr and whiter; both can box. boxing is, as you say, a noble art--a truly english art; may i never see the day when englishmen shall feel ashamed of it, or blacklegs and blackguards bring it into disgrace! i am a magistrate, and, of course, cannot patronize the thing very openly, yet i sometimes see a prize-fight. i saw the game chicken beat gulley.' * * * * * one day it happened that, being on my rambles, i entered a green lane which i had never seen before; at first it was rather narrow, but as i advanced it became considerably wider; in the middle was a driftway with deep ruts, but right and left was a space carpeted with a sward of trefoil and clover; there was no lack of trees, chiefly ancient oaks, which, flinging out their arms from either side, nearly formed a canopy, and afforded a pleasing shelter from the rays of the sun, which was burning fiercely above. suddenly a group of objects attracted my attention. beneath one of the largest of the trees, upon the grass, was a kind of low tent or booth, from the top of which a thin smoke was curling; beside it stood a couple of light carts, whilst two or three lean horses or ponies were cropping the herbage which was growing nigh. wondering to whom this odd tent could belong, i advanced till i was close before it, when i found that it consisted of two tilts, like those of waggons, placed upon the ground and fronting each other, connected behind by a sail or large piece of canvas, which was but partially drawn across the top; upon the ground, in the intervening space, was a fire, over which, supported by a kind of iron crowbar, hung a cauldron. my advance had been so noiseless as not to alarm the inmates, who consisted of a man and woman, who sat apart, one on each side of the fire; they were both busily employed--the man was carding plaited straw, whilst the woman seemed to be rubbing something with a white powder, some of which lay on a plate beside her. suddenly the man looked up, and, perceiving me, uttered a strange kind of cry, and the next moment both the woman and himself were on their feet and rushing upon me. i retreated a few steps, yet without turning to flee. i was not, however, without apprehension, which, indeed, the appearance of these two people was well calculated to inspire. the woman was a stout figure, seemingly between thirty and forty; she wore no cap, and her long hair fell on either side of her head, like horse-tails, half-way down her waist; her skin was dark and swarthy, like that of a toad, and the expression of her countenance was particularly evil; her arms were bare, and her bosom was but half-concealed by a slight bodice, below which she wore a coarse petticoat, her only other article of dress. the man was somewhat younger, but of a figure equally wild; his frame was long and lathy, but his arms were remarkably short, his neck was rather bent, he squinted slightly, and his mouth was much awry; his complexion was dark, but, unlike that of the woman, was more ruddy than livid; there was a deep scar on his cheek, something like the impression of a halfpenny. the dress was quite in keeping with the figure: in his hat, which was slightly peaked, was stuck a peacock's feather; over a waistcoat of hide, untanned and with the hair upon it, he wore a rough jerkin of russet hue; small clothes of leather, which had probably once belonged to a soldier, but with which pipe-clay did not seem to have come in contact for many a year, protected his lower man as far as the knee; his legs were cased in long stockings of blue worsted, and on his shoes he wore immense old-fashioned buckles. * * * * * because they have been known to beg the carcass of a hog which they themselves have poisoned, it has been asserted that they prefer carrion which has perished of sickness to the meat of the shambles; and because they have been seen to make a ragout of boror (snails), and to roast a hotchiwitchu or hedgehog, it has been supposed that reptiles of every description form a part of their cuisine. it is high time to undeceive the gentiles on these points. know, then, o gentile, whether thou be from the land of the gorgios or the busne, that the very gypsies who consider a ragout of snails a delicious dish will not touch an eel, because it bears resemblance to a snake; and that those who will feast on a roasted hedgehog could be induced by no money to taste a squirrel, a delicious and wholesome species of game, living on the purest and most nutritious food which the fields and forests can supply. i myself, while living among the roms of england, have been regarded almost in the light of a cannibal for cooking the latter animal and preferring it to hotchiwitchu barbecued, or ragout of boror. 'you are but half rommany, brother,' they would say, 'and you feed gorgiko-nes (like a gentile), even as you talk. tchachipen (in truth), if we did not know you to be of the mecralliskoe rat (royal blood) of pharaoh, we should be justified in driving you forth as a juggel-mush (dog man), one more fitted to keep company with wild beasts and gorgios than gentle rommanys.' * * * * * one fact has always struck us with particular force in the history of these people, namely, that gitanismo--which means gypsy villainy of every description--flourished and knew nothing of decay so long as the laws recommended and enjoined measures the most harsh and severe for the suppression of the gypsy sect; the palmy days of gitanismo were those in which the caste was proscribed, and its members, in the event of renouncing their gypsy habits, had nothing farther to expect than the occupation of tilling the earth, a dull hopeless toil; then it was that the gitanos paid tribute to the inferior ministers of justice, and were engaged in illicit connection with those of higher station and by such means baffled the law, whose vengeance rarely fell upon their heads; and then it was that they bid it open defiance, retiring to the deserts and mountains, and living in wild independence by rapine and shedding of blood; for as the law then stood they would lose all by resigning their gitanismo, whereas by clinging to it they lived either in the independence so dear to them, or beneath the protection of their confederates. it would appear that in proportion as the law was harsh and severe, so was the gitano bold and secure. * * * * * many of them reside in caves scooped in the sides of the ravines which lead to the higher regions of the alpujarras, on a skirt of which stands granada. a common occupation of the gitanos of granada is working in iron, and it is not unfrequent to find these caves tenanted by gypsy smiths and their families, who ply the hammer and forge in the bowels of the earth. to one standing at the mouth of the cave, especially at night, they afford a picturesque spectacle. gathered round the forge, their bronzed and naked bodies, illuminated by the flame, appear like figures of demons, while the cave, with its flinty sides and uneven roof, blackened by the charcoal vapours which hover about it in festoons, seems to offer no inadequate representation of fabled purgatory. * * * * * it has always struck me that there is something highly poetical about a forge i am not singular in this opinion: various individuals have assured me that they can never pass by one, even in the midst of a crowded town, without experiencing sensations which they can scarcely define, but which are highly pleasurable. i have a decided penchant for forges, especially rural ones, placed in some quaint, quiet spot--a dingle for example, which is a poetical place, or at a meeting of four roads, which is still more so, for how many a superstition--and superstition is the soul of poetry--is connected with these cross roads! i love to light upon such a one, especially after nightfall, as everything about a forge tells to most advantage at night, the hammer sounds more solemnly in the stillness, the glowing particles scattered by the strokes sparkle with more effect in the darkness, whilst the sooty visage of the sastramescro, half in shadow, and half illumined by the red and partial blaze of the forge, looks more mysterious and strange. on such occasions i draw in my horse's rein, and seated in the saddle endeavour to associate with the picture before me--in itself a picture of romance--whatever of the wild and wonderful i have read of in books, or have seen with my own eyes in connection with forges. * * * * * a sound was heard like the rapid galloping of a horse, not loud and distinct as on a road, but dull and heavy as if upon a grass sward, nearer and nearer it came, and the man, starting up, rushed out of the tent, and looked around anxiously. i arose from the stool upon which i had been seated, and just at that moment, amidst a crashing of boughs and sticks, a man on horseback bounded over the hedge into the lane at a few yards' distance from where we were; from the impetus of the leap the horse was nearly down on his knees; the rider, however, by dint of vigorous handling of the reins, prevented him from falling, and then rode up to the tent. ''tis nat,' said the man; 'what brings him here?' the new comer was a stout, burly fellow, about the middle age; he had a savage, determined look, and his face was nearly covered over with carbuncles; he wore a broad slouching hat, and was dressed in a grey coat, cut in a fashion which i afterwards learnt to be the genuine newmarket cut, the skirts being exceedingly short; his waistcoat was of red plush, and he wore broad corduroy breeches and white top-boots. the steed which carried him was of iron grey, spirited and powerful, but covered with sweat and foam. the fellow glanced fiercely and suspiciously around, and said something to the man of the tent in a harsh and rapid voice. a short and hurried conversation ensued in the strange tongue. i could not take my eyes off this new comer. oh, that half-jockey half-bruiser countenance, i never forgot it! more than fifteen years afterwards i found myself amidst a crowd before newgate; a gallows was erected, and beneath it stood a criminal, a notorious malefactor. i recognised him at once; the horseman of the lane is now beneath the fatal tree, but nothing altered; still the same man; jerking his head to the right and left with the same fierce under-glance, just as if the affairs of this world had the same kind of interest to the last; grey coat of newmarket cut, plush waistcoat, corduroys, and boots, nothing altered; but the head, alas! is bare and so is the neck. oh, crime and virtue, virtue and crime!--it was old john newton i think, who, when he saw a man going to be hanged, said: 'there goes john newton, but for the grace of god!' * * * * * after much feasting, drinking, and yelling, in the gypsy house, the bridal train sallied forth--a frantic spectacle. first of all marched a villainous jockey-looking fellow, holding in his hands, uplifted, a long pole, at the top of which fluttered in the morning air a snow-white cambric handkerchief, emblem of the bride's purity. then came the betrothed pair, followed by their nearest friends; then a rabble rout of gypsies, screaming and shouting, and discharging guns and pistols, till all around rang with the din, and the village dogs barked. on arriving at the church gate, the fellow who bore the pole stuck it into the ground with a loud huzza, and the train, forming two ranks, defiled into the church on either side of the pole and its strange ornaments. on the conclusion of the ceremony, they returned in the same manner in which they had come. throughout the day there was nothing going on but singing, drinking, feasting, and dancing; but the most singular part of the festival was reserved for the dark night. nearly a ton weight of sweetmeats had been prepared, at an enormous expense, not for the gratification of the palate, but for a purpose purely gypsy. these sweetmeats of all kinds, and of all forms, but principally yemas, or yolks of eggs prepared with a crust of sugar (a delicious bonne-bouche), were strewn on the floor of a large room, at least to the depth of three inches. into this room, at a given signal, tripped the bride and bridegroom, dancing romalis, followed amain by all the gitanos and gitanas, dancing romalis. to convey a slight idea of the scene is almost beyond the power of words. in a few minutes the sweetmeats were reduced to a powder, or rather to a mud, the dancers were soiled to the knees with sugar, fruits, and yolks of eggs. still more terrific became the lunatic merriment. the men sprang high into the air, neighed, brayed, and crowed; whilst the gitanas snapped their fingers in their own fashion, louder than castanets, distorting their forms into all kinds of obscene attitudes, and uttering words to repeat which were an abomination. in a corner of the apartment capered the while sebastianillo, a convict gypsy from melilla, strumming the guitar most furiously, and producing demoniacal sounds which had some resemblance to malbrun (malbrouk), and, as he strummed, repeating at intervals the gypsy modification of the song. * * * * * the english gypsies are constant attendants at the racecourse; what jockey is not? perhaps jockeyism originated with them, and even racing, at least in england. jockeyism properly implies _the management of a whip_, and the word jockey is neither more nor less than the term slightly modified, by which they designate the formidable whips which they usually carry, and which are at present in general use amongst horse- traffickers, under the title of jockey whips. they are likewise fond of resorting to the prize-ring, and have occasionally even attained some eminence, as principals, in those disgraceful and brutalizing exhibitions called pugilistic combats. i believe a great deal has been written on the subject of the english gypsies, but the writers have dwelt too much in generalities; they have been afraid to take the gypsy by the hand, lead him forth from the crowd, and exhibit him, in the area; he is well worth observing. when a boy of fourteen, i was present at a prize-fight; why should i hide the truth? it took place on a green meadow, beside a running stream, close by the old church of e---, and within a league of the ancient town of n---, the capital of one of the eastern counties. the terrible thurtell was present, lord of the concourse; for wherever he moved he was master, and whenever he spoke, even when in chains, every other voice was silent. he stood on the mead, grim and pale as usual, with his bruisers around. he it was, indeed, who _got up_ the fight, as he had previously done twenty others; it being his frequent boast that he had first introduced bruising and bloodshed amidst rural scenes, and transformed a quiet slumbering town into a den of jews and metropolitan thieves. some time before the commencement of the combat, three men, mounted on wild-looking horses, came dashing down the road in the direction of the meadow, in the midst of which they presently showed themselves, their horses clearing the deep ditches with wonderful alacrity. 'that's gypsy will and his gang,' lisped a hebrew pickpocket; 'we shall have another fight.' the word gypsy was always sufficient to excite my curiosity, and i looked attentively at the new-comers. i have seen gypsies of various lands, russian, hungarian, and turkish; and i have also seen the legitimate children of most countries of the world; but i never saw, upon the whole, three more remarkable individuals, as far as personal appearance was concerned, than the three english gypsies who now presented themselves to my eyes on that spot. two of them had dismounted, and were holding their horses by the reins. the tallest, and, at the first glance, the most interesting of the two, was almost a giant, for his height could not have been less than six feet three. it is impossible for the imagination to conceive anything more perfectly beautiful than were the features of this man, and the most skilful sculptor of greece might have taken them as his model for a hero and a god. the forehead was exceedingly lofty,--a rare thing in a gypsy; the nose less roman than grecian,--fine yet delicate; the eye large, overhung with long drooping lashes, giving them almost a melancholy expression; it was only when the lashes were elevated that the gypsy glance was seen, if that can be called a glance which is a strange stare, like nothing else in this world. his complexion was a beautiful olive; and his teeth were of a brilliancy uncommon even amongst these people, who have all fine teeth. he was dressed in a coarse waggoner's slop, which, however, was unable to conceal altogether the proportions of his noble and herculean figure. he might be about twenty-eight. his companion and his captain, gypsy will, was, i think, fifty when he was hanged, ten years subsequently (for i never afterwards lost sight of him), in the front of the jail of bury st. edmunds. i have still present before me his bushy black hair, his black face, and his big black eyes fixed and staring. his dress consisted of a loose blue jockey coat, jockey boots and breeches; in his hand was a huge jockey whip, and on his head (it struck me at the time for its singularity) a broad-brimmed high- peaked andalusian hat, or at least one very much resembling those generally worn in that province. in stature he was shorter than his more youthful companion, yet he must have measured six feet at least, and was stronger built, if possible. what brawn!--what bone!--what legs!--what thighs! the third gypsy, who remained on horseback, looked more like a phantom than anything human. his complexion was the colour of pale dust, and of that same colour was all that pertained to him, hat and clothes. his boots were dusty of course, for it was midsummer, and his very horse was of a dusty dun. his features were whimsically ugly, most of his teeth were gone, and as to his age, he might be thirty or sixty. he was somewhat lame and halt, but an unequalled rider when once upon his steed, which he was naturally not very solicitous to quit. i subsequently discovered that he was considered the wizard of the gang. i have been already prolix with respect to these gypsies, but i will not leave them quite yet. the intended combatants at length arrived; it was necessary to clear the ring,--always a troublesome and difficult task. thurtell went up to the two gypsies, with whom he seemed to be acquainted, and with his surly smile, said two or three words, which i, who was standing by, did not understand. the gypsies smiled in return, and giving the reins of their animals to their mounted companion, immediately set about the task which the king of the flash-men had, as i conjecture, imposed upon them; this they soon accomplished. who could stand against such fellows and such whips? the fight was soon over--then there was a pause. once more thurtell came up to the gypsies and said something--the gypsies looked at each other and conversed; but their words then had no meaning for my ears. the tall gypsy shook his head--'very well,' said the other, in english, 'i will--that's all.' then pushing the people aside, he strode to the ropes, over which he bounded into the ring, flinging his spanish hat high into the air. gypsy will.--'the best man in england for twenty pounds!' thurtell.--'i am backer!' twenty pounds is a tempting sum, and there were men that day upon the green meadow who would have shed the blood of their own fathers for the fifth of the price. but the gypsy was not an unknown man, his prowess and strength were notorious, and no one cared to encounter him. some of the jews looked eager for a moment; but their sharp eyes quailed quickly before his savage glances, as he towered in the ring his huge form dilating, and his black features convulsed with excitement. the westminster bravoes eyed the gypsy askance; but the comparison, if they made any, seemed by no means favourable to themselves. 'gypsy! rum chap.--ugly customer,--always in training.' such were the exclamations which i heard, some of which at that period of my life i did not understand. no man would fight the gypsy.--yes! a strong country fellow wished to win the stakes, and was about to fling up his hat in defiance, but he was prevented by his friends, with--'fool! he'll kill you!' as the gypsies were mounting their horses, i heard the dusty phantom exclaim-- 'brother, you are an arrant ring-maker and a horse-breaker; you'll make a hempen ring to break your own neck of a horse one of these days.' they pressed their horses' flanks, again leaped over the ditches, and speedily vanished, amidst the whirlwinds of dust which they raised upon the road. the words of the phantom gypsy were ominous. gypsy will was eventually executed for a murder committed in his early youth in company with two english labourers, one of whom confessed the fact on his death-bed. he was the head of the clan young, which, with the clan smith, still haunts two of the eastern counties. * * * * * 'i say, jasper, what remarkable names your people have!' 'and what pretty names, brother; there's my own for example, jasper; then there's ambrose and sylvester; then there's culvato, which signifies claude; then there's piramus--that's a nice name, brother.' 'then there's your wife's name, pakomovna; then there's ursula and morella.' 'then, brother, there's ercilla.' 'ercilla! the name of the great poet of spain, how wonderful; then leviathan.' 'the name of a ship, brother; leviathan was named after a ship, so don't make a wonder out of her. but there's sanpriel and synfye.' 'ay, and clementina and lavinia, camillia and lydia, curlanda and orlanda; wherever did they get those names?' 'where did my wife get her necklace, brother?' 'she knows best, jasper. i hope--' 'come, no hoping! she got it from her grandmother, who died at the age of , and sleeps in coggeshall churchyard. she got it from her mother, who also died very old, and who could give no other account of it than that it had been in the family time out of mind.' 'whence could they have got it?' 'why, perhaps where they got their names, brother. a gentleman, who had travelled much, once told me that he had seen the sister of it about the neck of an indian queen.' 'some of your names, jasper, appear to be church names; your own, for example, and ambrose, and sylvester; perhaps you got them from the papists, in the times of popery; but where did you get such a name as piramus, a name of grecian romance? then some of them appear to be slavonian; for example, mikailia and pakomovna. i don't know much of slavonian; but--' 'what is slavonian, brother?' 'the family name of certain nations, the principal of which is the russian, and from which the word slave is originally derived. you have heard of the russians, jasper?' 'yes, brother, and seen some. i saw their crallis at the time of the peace; he was not a bad-looking man for a russian.' 'by-the-bye, jasper, i'm half-inclined to think that crallis is a slavish word. i saw something like it in a lil called voltaire's life of charles. how you should have come by such names and words is to me incomprehensible.' * * * * * 'what is your opinion of death, mr. petulengro?' said i, as i sat down beside him. 'my opinion of death, brother, is much the same as that in the old song of pharaoh, which i have heard my grandam sing:-- '"cana marel o manus chivios ande puv, ta rovel pa leste o chavo ta romi." when a man dies, he is cast into the earth, and his wife and child sorrow over him. if he has neither wife nor child, then his father and mother, i suppose; and if he is quite alone in the world, why, then, he is cast into the earth, and there is an end of the matter.' 'and do you think that is the end of a man?' 'there's an end of him, brother, more's the pity.' 'why do you say so?' 'life is sweet, brother.' 'do you think so?' 'think so! there's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise the wind on the heath. life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?' 'i would wish to die--' 'you talk like a gorgio--which is the same as talking like a fool--were you a rommany chal you would talk wiser. wish to die, indeed! a rommany chal would wish to live for ever!' 'in sickness, jasper?' 'there's the sun and stars, brother.' 'in blindness, jasper?' 'there's the wind on the heath, brother; if i could only feel that, i would gladly live for ever. dosta, we'll now go to the tents and put on the gloves; and i'll try to make you feel what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!' * * * * * beating of women by the lords of the creation has become very prevalent in england since pugilism has been discountenanced. now the writer strongly advises any woman who is struck by a ruffian to strike him again; or if she cannot clench her fists, and he advises all women in these singular times to learn to clench their fists, to go at him with tooth and nail, and not to be afraid of the result, for any fellow who is dastard enough to strike a woman, would allow himself to be beaten by a woman, were she to make at him in self-defence, even if, instead of possessing the stately height and athletic proportions of the aforesaid isopel, she were as diminutive in stature, and had a hand as delicate, and foot as small, as a certain royal lady, who was some time ago assaulted by a fellow upwards of six feet high, whom the writer has no doubt she could have beaten had she thought proper to go at him. such is the deliberate advice of the author to his countrymen and women--advice in which he believes there is nothing unscriptural or repugnant to common sense. * * * * * of my wife i will merely say that she is a perfect paragon of wives--can make puddings and sweets and treacle posset, and is the best woman of business in eastern anglia--of my step-daughter--for such she is, though i generally call her daughter, and with good reason, seeing that she has always shown herself a daughter to me--that she has all kinds of good qualities, and several accomplishments, knowing something of conchology, more of botany, drawing capitally in the dutch style, and playing remarkably well on the guitar--not the trumpery german thing so-called--but the real spanish guitar. * * * * * in the summer of the year myself, wife, and daughter determined upon going into wales, to pass a few months there. we are country people of a corner of east anglia, and, at the time of which i am speaking, had been residing so long on our own little estate, that we had become tired of the objects around us, and conceived that we should be all the better for changing the scene for a short period. we were undetermined for some time with respect to where we should go. i proposed wales from the first, but my wife and daughter, who have always had rather a hankering after what is fashionable, said they thought it would be more advisable to go to harrowgate, or leamington. on my observing that those were terrible places for expense, they replied that, though the price of corn had of late been shamefully low, we had a spare hundred pounds or two in our pockets, and could afford to pay for a little insight into fashionable life. i told them that there was nothing i so much hated as fashionable life, but that, as i was anything but a selfish person, i would endeavour to stifle my abhorrence of it for a time, and attend them either to leamington or harrowgate. by this speech i obtained my wish, even as i knew i should, for my wife and daughter instantly observed, that, after all, they thought we had better go into wales, which, though not so fashionable as either leamington or harrowgate, was a very nice picturesque country, where, they had no doubt, they should get on very well, more especially as i was acquainted with the welsh language. * * * * * '_fear god_, and take your own part. there's bible in that, young man; see how moses feared god, and how he took his own part against everybody who meddled with him. and see how david feared god, and took his own part against all the bloody enemies which surrounded him--so fear god, young man, and never give in! the world can bully, and is fond, provided it sees a man in a kind of difficulty, of getting about him, calling him coarse names, and even going so far as to hustle him: but the world, like all bullies, carries a white feather in its tail, and no sooner sees the man taking off his coat, and offering to fight its best, than it scatters here and there, and is always civil to him afterwards. so when folks are disposed to ill-treat you, young man, say, "lord have mercy upon me!" and then tip them long melford, to which, as the saying goes, there is nothing comparable for shortness all the world over; and these last words, young man, are the last you will ever have from her who is nevertheless, 'your affectionate female servant, 'isopel berners.' * * * * * soldiers and sailors promoted to command are said to be in general tyrants; in nine cases out of ten, when they are tyrants, they have been obliged to have recourse to extreme severity in order to protect themselves from the insolence and mutinous spirit of the men,--'he is no better than ourselves: shoot him, bayonet him, or fling him overboard!' they say of some obnoxious individual raised above them by his merit. soldiers and sailors in general, will bear any amount of tyranny from a lordly sot, or the son of a man who has 'plenty of brass'--their own term--but will mutiny against the just orders of a skilful and brave officer who 'is no better than themselves.' there was the affair of the bounty, for example: bligh was one of the best seamen that ever trod deck, and one of the bravest of men; proofs of his seamanship he gave by steering, amidst dreadful weather, a deeply laden boat for nearly four thousand miles over an almost unknown ocean--of his bravery, at the fight of copenhagen, one of the most desperate ever fought, of which after nelson he was the hero: he was, moreover, not an unkind man; but the crew of the bounty mutinied against him, and set him half naked in an open boat, with certain of his men who remained faithful to him, and ran away with the ship. their principal motive for doing so was an idea, whether true or groundless the writer cannot say, that bligh was 'no better than themselves'; he was certainly neither a lord's illegitimate, nor possessed of twenty thousand pounds. * * * * * there they come, the bruisers, from far london, or from wherever else they might chance to be at that time, to the great rendezvous in the old city; some came one way, some another: some of tip-top reputation came with peers in their chariots, for glory and fame are such fair things that even peers are proud to have those invested therewith by their sides; others came in their own gigs, driving their own bits of blood, and i heard one say: 'i have driven through at a heat the whole one hundred and eleven miles, and only stopped to bait twice.' oh, the blood- horses of old england! but they too have had their day--for everything beneath the sun there is a season and a time. but the greater number come just as they can contrive; on the tops of coaches, for example; and amongst these there are fellows with dark sallow faces and sharp shining eyes; and it is these that have planted rottenness in the core of pugilism, for they are jews, and, true to their kind, have only base lucre in view. it was fierce old cobbett, i think, who first said that the jews first introduced bad faith amongst pugilists. he did not always speak the truth, but at any rate he spoke it when he made that observation. strange people the jews--endowed with every gift but one, and that the highest, genius divine,--genius which can alone make of men demigods, and elevate them above earth and what is earthy and what is grovelling; without which a clever nation--and who more clever than the jews?--may have rambams in plenty, but never a fielding nor a shakespeare; a rothschild and a mendoza, yes--but never a kean nor a belcher. so the bruisers of england are come to be present at the grand fight speedily coming off; there they are met in the precincts of the old town, near the field of the chapel, planted with tender saplings at the restoration of sporting charles, which are now become venerable elms, as high as many a steeple; there they are met at a fitting rendezvous, where a retired coachman, with one leg, keeps an hotel and a bowling-green. i think i now see them upon the bowling-green, the men of renown, amidst hundreds of people with no renown at all, who gaze upon them with timid wonder. fame, after all, is a glorious thing, though it lasts only for a day. there's cribb, the champion of england, and perhaps the best man in england; there he is, with his huge, massive figure, and face wonderfully like that of a lion. there is belcher, the younger, not the mighty one, who is gone to his place, but the teucer belcher, the most scientific pugilist that ever entered a ring, only wanting strength to be, i won't say what. he appears to walk before me now, as he did that evening, with his white hat, white greatcoat, thin, genteel figure, springy step, and keen, determined eye. crosses him--what a contrast!--grim, savage shelton, who has a civil word for nobody, and a hard blow for anybody--hard! one blow, given with the proper play of his athletic arm, will unsense a giant. yonder individual, who strolls about with his hands behind him, supporting his brown coat lappets, undersized, and who looks anything but what he is, is the king of the light weights, so called,--randall! the terrible randall, who has irish blood in his veins; not the better for that, nor the worse; and not far from him is his last antagonist, ned turner, who, though beaten by him, still thinks himself as good a man, in which he is, perhaps, right, for it was a near thing; and 'a better shentleman,' in which he is quite right, for he is a welshman. but how shall i name them all? they were there by dozens, and all tremendous in their way. there was bulldog hudson and fearless scroggins, who beat the conqueror of sam the jew. there was black richmond--no, he was not there, but i knew him well; he was the most dangerous of blacks, even with a broken thigh. there was purcell, who could never conquer till all seemed over with him. there was--what! shall i name thee last? ay, why not? i believe that thou art the last of all that strong family still above the sod, where mayst thou long continue--true piece of english stuff, tom of bedford--sharp as winter, kind as spring. hail to thee, tom of bedford, or by whatever name it may please thee to be called, spring or winter. hail to thee, six-foot englishman of the brown eye, worthy to have carried a six-foot bow at flodden, where england's yeomen triumphed over scotland's king, his clans and chivalry. hail to thee, last of england's bruisers, after all the many victories which them hast achieved--true english victories, unbought by yellow gold; need i recount them? nay, nay! they are already well known to fame--sufficient to say that bristol's bull and ireland's champion were vanquished by thee, and one mightier still, gold itself, thou didst overcome; for gold itself strove in vain to deaden the power of thy arm; and thus thou didst proceed till men left off challenging thee, the unvanquishable, the incorruptible. * * * * * the writer now wishes to say something on the subject of canting nonsense, of which there is a great deal in england. there are various cants in england, amongst which is the religious cant. he is not going to discuss the subject of religious cant: lest, however, he should be misunderstood, he begs leave to repeat that he is a sincere member of the old-fashioned church of england, in which he believes there is more religion, and consequently less cant, than in any other church in the world; nor is he going to discuss many other cants; he shall content himself with saying something about two--the temperance cant and the unmanly cant. temperance canters say that, 'it is unlawful to drink a glass of ale.' unmanly canters say that 'it is unlawful to use one's fists.' the writer begs leave to tell both these species of canters that they do not speak the words of truth. * * * * * 'no,' said i, 'i do not mean to go to church.' 'may i ask thee wherefore?' said peter. 'because,' said i, 'i prefer remaining beneath the shade of these trees, listening to the sound of the leaves, and the tinkling of the waters.' * * * * * oh, genial and gladdening is the power of good ale, the true and proper drink of englishmen. he is not deserving of the name of englishman who speaketh against ale, that is good ale, like that which has just made merry the hearts of this poor family; and yet there are beings, calling themselves englishmen, who say that it is a sin to drink a cup of ale, and who, on coming to this passage will be tempted to fling down the book and exclaim: 'the man is evidently a bad man, for behold, by his own confession, he is not only fond of ale himself, but is in the habit of tempting other people with it.' alas! alas! what a number of silly individuals there are in this world; i wonder what they would have had me do in this instance--given the afflicted family a cup of cold water? go to! they could have found water in the road, for there was a pellucid spring only a few yards distant from the house, as they were well aware--but they wanted not water; what should i have given them? meat and bread? go to! they were not hungry; there was stifled sobbing in their bosoms, and the first mouthful of strong meat would have choked them. what should i have given them? money! what right had i to insult them by offering them money? advice! words, words, words; friends, there is a time for everything; there is a time for a cup of cold water; there is a time for strong meat and bread; there is a time for advice, and there is a time for ale; and i have generally found that the time for advice is after a cup of ale--i do not say many cups; the tongue then speaketh more smoothly, and the ear listeneth more benignantly; but why do i attempt to reason with you? do i not know you for conceited creatures, with one idea--and that a foolish one--a crotchet, for the sake of which ye would sacrifice anything, religion if required--country? there, fling down my book, i do not wish ye to walk any farther in my company, unless you cast your nonsense away, which ye will never do, for it is the breath of your nostrils; fling down my book, it was not written to support a crotchet, for know one thing, my good people, i have invariably been an enemy to humbug. * * * * * on the whole, i journeyed along very pleasantly, certainly quite as pleasantly as i do at present, now that i am become a gentleman and weigh sixteen stone, though some people would say that my present manner of travelling is much the most preferable, riding as i now do, instead of leading my horse; receiving the homage of ostlers instead of their familiar nods; sitting down to dinner in the parlour of the best inn i can find, instead of passing the brightest part of the day in the kitchen of a village ale-house; carrying on my argument after dinner on the subject of the corn-laws, with the best commercial gentlemen on the road, instead of being glad, whilst sipping a pint of beer, to get into conversation with blind trampers, or maimed abraham sailors, regaling themselves on half-pints at the said village hostelries. many people will doubtless say that things have altered wonderfully with me for the better, and they would say right, provided i possessed now what i then carried about with me in my journeys--the spirit of youth. youth is the only season for enjoyment, and the first twenty-five years of one's life are worth all the rest of the longest life of man, even though those five- and-twenty be spent in penury and contempt, and the rest in the possession of wealth, honours, respectability, ay, and many of them in strength and health, such as will enable one to ride forty miles before dinner, and over one's pint of port--for the best gentleman in the land should not drink a bottle--carry on one's argument, with gravity and decorum, with any commercial gentleman who, responsive to one's challenge, takes the part of humanity and common sense against 'protection' and the lord of the land. * * * * * on the following day at four o'clock i dined with the landlord, in company with a commercial traveller. the dinner was good, though plain, consisting of boiled mackerel--rather a rarity in those parts at that time--with fennel sauce, a prime baron of roast beef after the mackerel, then a tart and noble cheshire cheese; we had prime sherry at dinner, and whilst eating the cheese prime porter, that of barclay, the only good porter in the world. after the cloth was removed we had a bottle of very good port; and whilst partaking of the port i had an argument with the commercial traveller on the subject of the corn-laws. * * * * * the binding was of dingy calf-skin. i opened it, and as i did so another strange thrill of pleasure shot through my frame. the first object on which my eyes rested was a picture; it was exceedingly well executed, at least the scene which it represented made a vivid impression upon me, which would hardly have been the case had the artist not been faithful to nature. a wild scene it was--a heavy sea and rocky shore, with mountains in the background, above which the moon was peering. not far from the shore, upon the water, was a boat with two figures in it, one of which stood at the bow, pointing with what i knew to be a gun at a dreadful shape in the water: fire was flashing from the muzzle of the gun, and the monster appeared to be transfixed. i almost thought i heard its cry. i remained motionless, gazing upon the picture, scarcely daring to draw my breath, lest the new and wondrous world should vanish of which i had now obtained a glimpse. 'who are those people, and what could have brought them into that strange situation?' i asked of myself; and now the seed of curiosity, which had so long lain dormant, began to expand, and i vowed to myself to become speedily acquainted with the whole history of the people in the boat. after looking on the picture till every mark and line in it were familiar to me, i turned over various leaves till i came to another engraving; a new source of wonder--a low sandy beach on which the furious sea was breaking in mountain-like billows; cloud and rack deformed the firmament, which wore a dull and leaden-like hue; gulls and other aquatic fowls were toppling upon the blast, or skimming over the tops of the maddening waves--'mercy upon him! he must be drowned!' i exclaimed, as my eyes fell upon a poor wretch who appeared to be striving to reach the shore; he was upon his legs but was evidently half-smothered with the brine; high above his head curled a horrible billow, as if to engulf him for ever. 'he must be drowned! he must be drowned!' i almost shrieked, and dropped the book. i soon snatched it up again, and now my eye lighted on a third picture: again a shore, but what a sweet and lovely one, and how i wished to be treading it; there were beautiful shells lying on the smooth white sand, some were empty like those i had occasionally seen on marble mantelpieces, but out of others peered the heads and bodies of wondrous crayfish; a wood of thick green trees skirted the beach and partly shaded it from the rays of the sun, which shone hot above, while blue waves slightly crested with foam were gently curling against it; there was a human figure upon the beach, wild and uncouth, clad in the skins of animals, with a huge cap on his head, a hatchet at his girdle, and in his hand a gun; his feet and legs were bare; he stood in an attitude of horror and surprise; his body was bent far back, and his eyes, which seemed starting out of his head, were fixed upon a mark on the sand--a large distinct mark--a human footprint! reader, is it necessary to name the book which now stood open in my hand, and whose very prints, feeble expounders of its wondrous lines, had produced within me emotions strange and novel? scarcely, for it was a book which has exerted over the minds of englishmen an influence certainly greater than any other of modern times, which has been in most people's hands, and with the contents of which even those who cannot read are to a certain extent acquainted; a book from which the most luxuriant and fertile of our modern prose writers have drunk inspiration; a book, moreover, to which, from the hardy deeds which it narrates, and the spirit of strange and romantic enterprise which it tends to awaken, england owes many of her astonishing discoveries both by sea and land, and no inconsiderable part of her naval glory. hail to thee, spirit of de foe! what does not my own poor self owe to thee? england has better bards than either greece or rome, yet i could spare them easier far than de foe, 'unabashed de foe,' as the hunchbacked rhymer styled him. * * * * * i commenced the bible in spain. at first i proceeded slowly--sickness was in the land, and the face of nature was overcast--heavy rainclouds swam in the heavens,--the blast howled amid the pines which nearly surround my lonely dwelling, and the waters of the lake which lies before it, so quiet in general and tranquil, were fearfully agitated. 'bring lights hither, o hayim ben attar, son of the miracle!' and the jew of fez brought in the lights, for though it was midday i could scarcely see in the little room where i was writing. . . . a dreary summer and autumn passed by, and were succeeded by as gloomy a winter. i still proceeded with the bible in spain. the winter passed, and spring came with cold dry winds and occasional sunshine, whereupon i arose, shouted, and mounting my horse, even sidi habismilk, i scoured all the surrounding district, and thought but little of the bible in spain. so i rode about the country, over the heaths, and through the green lanes of my native land, occasionally visiting friends at a distance, and sometimes, for variety's sake, i stayed at home and amused myself by catching huge pike, which lie perdue in certain deep ponds skirted with lofty reeds, upon my land, and to which there is a communication from the lagoon by a deep and narrow watercourse. i had almost forgotten the bible in spain. then came the summer with much heat and sunshine, and then i would lie for hours in the sun and recall the sunny days i had spent in andalusia, and my thoughts were continually reverting to spain, and at last i remembered that the bible in spain was still unfinished; whereupon i arose and said: 'this loitering profiteth nothing'--and i hastened to my summer-house by the side of the lake, and there i thought and wrote, and every day i repaired to the same place, and thought and wrote until i had finished the bible in spain. * * * * * and, as i wandered along the green, i drew near to a place where several men, with a cask beside them, sat carousing in the neighbourhood of a small tent. 'here he comes,' said one of them, as i advanced, and standing up he raised his voice and sang:-- 'here the gypsy gemman see, with his roman jib and his rome and dree-- rome and dree, rum and dry rally round the rommany rye.' it was mr. petulengro, who was here diverting himself with several of his comrades; they all received me with considerable frankness. 'sit down, brother,' said mr. petulengro, 'and take a cup of good ale.' i sat down. 'your health, gentlemen,' said i, as i took the cup which mr. petulengro handed to me. 'aukko tu pios adrey rommanis. here is your health in rommany, brother,' said mr. petulengro; who, having refilled the cup, now emptied it at a draught. 'your health in rommany, brother,' said tawno chikno, to whom the cup came next. 'the rommany rye,' said a third. 'the gypsy gentlemen,' exclaimed a fourth, drinking. and then they all sang in chorus:-- 'here the gypsy gemman see, with his roman jib and his rome and dree-- rome and dree, rum and dry rally round the rommany rye.' 'and now, brother,' said mr. petulengro, 'seeing that you have drunk and been drunken, you will perhaps tell us where you have been, and what about?' 'i have been in the big city,' said i, 'writing lils' [books]. 'how much money have you got in your pocket, brother?' said mr. petulengro. 'eighteen pence,' said i; 'all i have in the world.' 'i have been in the big city, too,' said mr. petulengro; 'but i have not written lils--i have fought in the ring--i have fifty pounds in my pocket--i have much more in the world. brother, there is considerable difference between us.' 'i would rather be the lil-writer, after all,' said the tall, handsome, black man; 'indeed, i would wish for nothing better.' 'why so?' said mr. petulengro. 'because they have so much to say for themselves,' said the black man, 'even when dead and gone. when they are laid in the churchyard, it is their own fault if people a'n't talking of them. who will know, after i am dead, or bitchadey pawdel, that i was once the beauty of the world, or that you, jasper, were--' 'the best man in england of my inches. that's true, tawno--however, here's our brother will perhaps let the world know something about us.' 'not he,' said the other, with a sigh; 'he'll have quite enough to do in writing his own lils, and telling the world how handsome and clever he was; and who can blame him? not i. if i could write lils, every word should be about myself and my own tacho rommanis--my own lawful wedded wife, which is the same thing. i tell you what, brother, i once heard a wise man say in brummagem, that "there is nothing like blowing one's own horn," which i conceive to be much the same thing as writing one's own lil.' * * * * * at length the moon shone out faintly, when suddenly by its beams i beheld a figure moving before me at a slight distance. i quickened the pace of the burra, and was soon close at its side. it went on, neither altering its pace nor looking round for a moment. it was the figure of a man, the tallest and bulkiest that i had hitherto seen in spain, dressed in a manner strange and singular for the country. on his head was a hat with a low crown and broad brim, very much resembling that of an english waggoner; about his body was a long loose tunic or slop, seemingly of coarse ticken, open in front, so as to allow the interior garments to be occasionally seen. these appeared to consist of a jerkin and short velveteen pantaloons. i have said that the brim of the hat was broad, but broad as it was, it was insufficient to cover an immense bush of coal-black hair, which, thick and curly, projected on either side. over the left shoulder was flung a kind of satchel, and in the right hand was held a long staff or pole. there was something peculiarly strange about the figure; but what struck me the most was the tranquillity with which it moved along, taking no heed of me, though of course aware of my proximity, but looking straight forward along the road, save when it occasionally raised a huge face and large eyes towards the moon, which was now shining forth in the eastern quarter. . . . 'a cold night,' said i at last. 'is this the way to talavera?' 'it is the way to talavera, and the night is cold.' 'i am going to talavera,' said i, 'as i suppose you are yourself.' 'i am going thither, so are you, bueno.' the tones of the voice which delivered these words were in their way quite as strange and singular as the figure to which the voice belonged. they were not exactly the tones of a spanish voice, and yet there was something in them that could hardly be foreign; the pronunciation also was correct, and the language, though singular, faultless. but i was most struck with the manner in which the last word, bueno, was spoken. i had heard something like it before, but where or when i could by no means remember. a pause now ensued, the figure stalking on as before with the most perfect indifference, and seemingly with no disposition either to seek or avoid conversation. 'are you not afraid,' said i at last, 'to travel these roads in the dark? it is said that there are robbers abroad.' 'are you not rather afraid,' replied the figure, 'to travel these roads in the dark?--you who are ignorant of the country, who are a foreigner, an englishman?' 'how is it that you know me to be an englishman?' demanded i, much surprised. 'that is no difficult matter,' replied the figure; 'the sound of your voice was enough to tell me that.' 'you speak of voices,' said i; 'suppose the tone of your own voice were to tell me who you are?' 'that it will not do,' replied my companion; 'you know nothing about me--you can know nothing about me.' 'be not sure of that, my friend; i am acquainted with many things of which you have little idea.' 'por exemplo,' said the figure. 'for example,' said i, 'you speak two languages.' the figure moved on, seemed to consider a moment and then said slowly, 'bueno.' 'you have two names,' i continued; 'one for the house, and the other for the street; both are good, but the one by which you are called at home is the one which you like best.' the man walked on about ten paces, in the same manner as he had previously done; all of a sudden he turned, and taking the bridle of the burra gently in his hand, stopped her. i had now a full view of his face and figure, and those huge features and herculean form still occasionally revisit me in my dreams. i see him standing in the moonshine, staring me in the face with his deep calm eyes. at last he said-- 'are you then _one of us_?' * * * * * upon the shoulder of the goatherd was a beast, which he told me was a lontra, or otter, which he had lately caught in the neighbouring brook; it had a string round its neck, which was attached to his arm. at his left side was a bag, from the top of which peered the heads of two or three singular looking animals; and at his right was squatted the sullen cub of a wolf, which he was endeavouring to tame. his whole appearance was to the last degree savage and wild. after a little conversation, such as those who meet on the road frequently hold, i asked him if he could read, but he made me no answer. i then inquired if he knew anything of god or jesus christ; he looked me fixedly in the face for a moment, and then turned his countenance towards the sun, which was beginning to sink in the west, nodded to it, and then again looked fixedly upon me. i believe that i understood the mute reply, which probably was, that it was god who made that glorious light which illumes and gladdens all creation; and, gratified with that belief, i left him and hastened after my companions, who were by this time a considerable way in advance. * * * * * i have always found in the disposition of the children of the fields a more determined tendency to religion and piety than amongst the inhabitants of towns and cities, and the reason is obvious--they are less acquainted with the works of man's hands than with those of god; their occupations, too, which are simple, and requiring less of ingenuity and skill than those which engage the attention of the other portion of their fellow-creatures, are less favourable to the engendering of self-conceit and self-sufficiency, so utterly at variance with that lowliness of spirit which constitutes the best foundation of piety. * * * * * 'c'est moi, mon maitre,' cried a well-known voice, and presently in walked antonio buchini, dressed in the same style as when i first introduced him to the reader, namely, in a handsome but rather faded french surtout, vest, and pantaloons, with a diminutive hat in one hand, and holding in the other a long and slender cane. 'bon jour, mon maitre,' said the greek; then, glancing around the apartment, he continued, 'i am glad to find you so well lodged. if i remember right, mon maitre, we have slept in worse places during our wanderings in galicia and castile.' 'you are quite right, antonio,' i replied; 'i am very comfortable. well, this is kind of you to visit your ancient master, more especially now he is in the toils; i hope, however, that by so doing you will not offend your present employer. his dinner hour must be at hand; why are you not in the kitchen?' 'of what employer are you speaking, mon maitre?' demanded antonio. 'of whom should i speak but count ---, to serve whom you abandoned me, being tempted by an offer of a monthly salary less by four dollars than that which i was giving you?' 'your worship brings an affair to my remembrance which i had long since forgotten. i have at present no other master than yourself, monsieur georges, for i shall always consider you as my master, though i may not enjoy the felicity of waiting upon you.' 'you have left the count, then,' said i, 'after remaining three days in the house, according to your usual practice.' 'not three hours, mon maitre,' replied antonio; 'but i will tell you the circumstances. soon after i left you i repaired to the house of monsieur le comte; i entered the kitchen, and looked about me. i cannot say that i had much reason to be dissatisfied with what i saw: the kitchen was large and commodious, and everything appeared neat and in its proper place, and the domestics civil and courteous; yet, i know not how it was, the idea at once rushed into my mind that the house was by no means suited to me, and that i was not destined to stay there long; so, hanging my haversack upon a nail, and sitting down on the dresser, i commenced singing a greek song, as i am in the habit of doing when dissatisfied. the domestics came about me, asking questions. i made them no answer, however, and continued singing till the hour for preparing the dinner drew nigh, when i suddenly sprang on the floor, and was not long in thrusting them all out of the kitchen, telling them that they had no business there at such a season. i then at once entered upon my functions. i exerted myself, mon maitre--i exerted myself, and was preparing a repast which would have done me honour; there was, indeed, some company expected that day, and i therefore determined to show my employer that nothing was beyond the capacity of his greek cook. eh bien, mon maitre, all was going on remarkably well, and i felt almost reconciled to my new situation when who should rush into the kitchen but le fils de la maison, my young master, an ugly urchin of thirteen years, or thereabouts. he bore in his hand a manchet of bread, which, after prying about for a moment, he proceeded to dip in the pan where some delicate woodcocks were in the course of preparation. you know, mon maitre, how sensitive i am on certain points, for i am no spaniard, but a greek, and have principles of honour. without a moment's hesitation i took my young master by the shoulders, and hurrying him to the door, dismissed him in the manner which he deserved. squalling loudly, he hurried away to the upper part of the house. i continued my labours, but ere three minutes had elapsed, i heard a dreadful confusion above stairs, on faisoit une horrible tintamarre, and i could occasionally distinguish oaths and execrations. presently doors were flung open, and there was an awful rushing downstairs, a gallopade. it was my lord the count, his lady, and my young master, followed by a regular bevy of women and filles de chambre. far in advance of all, however, was my lord with a drawn sword in his hand, shouting, "where is the wretch who has dishonoured my son, where is he? he shall die forthwith." i know not how it was, mon maitre, but i just then chanced to spill a large bowl of garbanzos, which were intended for the puchera of the following day. they were un-cooked, and were as hard as marbles; these i dashed upon the floor, and the greater part of them fell just about the doorway. eh bien, mon maitre, in another moment in bounded the count, his eyes sparkling like coals, and, as i have already said, with a rapier in his hand. "tenez, gueux enrage," he screamed, making a desperate lunge at me; but ere the words were out of his mouth, his foot slipping on the pease, he fell forward with great violence at his full length, and his weapon flew out of his hand, comme une fleche. you should have heard the outcry which ensued--there was a terrible confusion; the count lay upon the floor to all appearance stunned. i took no notice, however, continuing busily employed. they at last raised him up, and assisted him till he came to himself, though very pale and much shaken. he asked for his sword: all eyes were now turned upon me, and i saw that a general attack was meditated. suddenly i took a large casserole from the fire in which various eggs were frying; this i held out at arm's length, peering at it along my arm as if i were curiously inspecting it, my right foot advanced and the other thrown back as far as possible. all stood still, imagining, doubtless, that i was about to perform some grand operation, and so i was: for suddenly the sinister leg advancing, with one rapid coup de pied, i sent the casserole and its contents flying over my head, so that they struck the wall far behind me. this was to let them know that i had broken my staff and had shaken the dust off my feet; so casting upon the count the peculiar glance of the sceirote cooks when they feel themselves insulted, and extending my mouth on either side nearly as far as the ears, i took down my haversack and departed, singing as i went the song of the ancient demos, who, when dying, asked for his supper, and water wherewith to lave his hands-- [greek verse] and in this manner, mon maitre, i left the house of the count of ---' * * * * * after travelling four days and nights, we arrived at madrid without having experienced the slightest accident, though it is but just to observe, and always with gratitude to the almighty, that the next mail was stopped. a singular incident befell me immediately after my arrival. on entering the arch of the posada called la reyna, where i intended to put up, i found myself encircled in a person's arms, and on turning round in amazement beheld my greek servant, antonio. he was haggard and ill- dressed, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets. as soon as we were alone he informed me that since my departure he had undergone great misery and destitution, having, during the whole period, been unable to find a master in need of his services, so that he was brought nearly to the verge of desperation; but that on the night immediately preceding my arrival he had a dream, in which he saw me, mounted on a black horse, ride up to the gate of the posada, and that on that account he had been waiting there during the greater part of the day. i do not pretend to offer an opinion concerning this narrative, which is beyond the reach of my philosophy, and shall content myself with observing, that only two individuals in madrid were aware of my arrival in spain. i was very glad to receive him again into my service, as, notwithstanding his faults, he had in many instances proved of no small assistance to me in my wanderings and biblical labours. * * * * * the posada where i had put up was a good specimen of the old spanish inn, being much the same as those described in the time of philip the third or fourth. the rooms were many and large, floored with either brick or stone, generally with an alcove at the end, in which stood a wretched flock bed. behind the house was a court, and in the rear of this a stable, full of horses, ponies, mules, machos, and donkeys, for there was no lack of guests, who, however, for the most part slept in the stable with their caballerias, being either arrieros or small peddling merchants, who travelled the country with coarse cloth or linen. opposite to my room in the corridor lodged a wounded officer, who had just arrived from san sebastian on a galled broken-kneed pony: he was an estrimenian, and was returning to his own village to be cured. he was attended by three broken soldiers, lame or maimed, and unfit for service: they told me that they were of the same village as his worship, and on that account he permitted them to travel with him. they slept amongst the litter, and throughout the day lounged about the house smoking paper cigars. i never saw them eating, though they frequently went to a dark cool corner, where stood a bota or kind of water pitcher, which they held about six inches from their black filmy lips, permitting the liquid to trickle down their throats. they said they had no pay and were quite destitute of money, that su merced the officer occasionally gave them a piece of bread, but that he himself was poor and had only a few dollars. brave guests for an inn, thought i; yet, to the honour of spain be it spoken, it is one of the few countries in europe where poverty is never insulted nor looked upon with contempt. even at an inn, the poor man is never spurned from the door, and if not harboured, is at least dismissed with fair words, and consigned to the mercies of god and his mother. this is as it should be. i laugh at the bigotry and prejudices of spain, i abhor the cruelty and ferocity which have cast a stain of eternal infamy on her history, but i will say for the spaniards that in their social intercourse no people in the world exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the dignity of human nature, or better understand the behaviour which it behoves a man to adopt towards his fellow beings. i have said that it is one of the few countries in europe where poverty is not treated with contempt, and i may add, where the wealthy are not blindly idolized. in spain the very beggar does not feel himself a degraded being, for he kisses no one's feet, and knows not what it is to be cuffed or spit upon; and in spain the duke or the marquis can scarcely entertain a very overweening opinion of his own consequence, as he finds no one, with perhaps the exception of his french valet, to fawn upon or flatter him. * * * * * the landlord brought the ale, placed it on the table, and then stood as if waiting for something. 'i suppose you are waiting to be paid,' said i, 'what is your demand?' 'sixpence for this jug, and sixpence for the other,' said the landlord. i took out a shilling and said: 'it is but right that i should pay half of the reckoning, and as the whole affair is merely a shilling matter, i should feel obliged in being permitted to pay the whole, so, landlord, take the shilling, and remember you are paid.' i then delivered the shilling to the landlord, but had no sooner done so than the man in grey, starting up in violent agitation, wrested the money from the other, and flung it down on the table before me saying:-- 'no, no, that will never do. i invited you in here to drink, and now you would pay for the liquor which i ordered. you english are free with your money, but you are sometimes free with it at the expense of people's feelings. i am a welshman, and i know englishmen consider all welshmen hogs. but we are not hogs, mind you! for we have little feelings which hogs have not. moreover, i would have you know that we have money, though perhaps not so much as the saxon.' then putting his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a shilling, and giving it to the landlord, said in welsh: 'now thou art paid and mayst go thy ways till thou art again called for. i do not know why thou didst stay after thou hadst put down the ale. thou didst know enough of me to know that thou didst run no risk of not being paid.' * * * * * 'young gentleman,' said the huge, fat landlord, 'you are come at the right time; dinner will be taken up in a few minutes, and such a dinner,' he continued, rubbing his hands, 'as you will not see every day in these times.' 'i am hot and dusty,' said i, 'and should wish to cool my hands and face.' 'jenny!' said the huge landlord, with the utmost gravity, 'show the gentleman into number seven that he may wash his hands and face.' 'by no means,' said i, 'i am a person of primitive habits, and there is nothing like the pump in weather like this.' 'jenny!' said the landlord, with the same gravity as before, 'go with the young gentleman to the pump in the back kitchen, and take a clean towel along with you.' thereupon the rosy-faced clean-looking damsel went to a drawer, and producing a large, thick, but snowy-white towel, she nodded to me to follow her; whereupon i followed jenny through a long passage into the back kitchen. and at the end of the back kitchen there stood a pump; and going to it i placed my hands beneath the spout, and said, 'pump, jenny,' and jenny incontinently, without laying down the towel, pumped with one hand, and i washed and cooled my heated hands. and, when my hands were washed and cooled, i took off my neckcloth, and unbuttoning my shirt collar, i placed my head beneath the spout of the pump, and i said unto jenny: 'now, jenny, lay down the towel, and pump for your life.' thereupon jenny, placing the towel on a linen horse, took the handle of the pump with both hands and pumped over my head as handmaid had never pumped before; so that the water poured in torrents from my head, my face, and my hair down upon the brick floor. and after the lapse of somewhat more than a minute, i called out with a half-strangled voice, 'hold, jenny!' and jenny desisted. i stood for a few moments to recover my breath, then, taking the towel which jenny proffered, i dried composedly my hands and head, my face and hair; then, returning the towel to jenny, i gave a deep sigh and said: 'surely this is one of the pleasant moments of life.' * * * * * * becoming soon tired of walking about, without any particular aim, in so great a heat, i determined to return to the inn, call for ale, and deliberate on what i had best next do. so i returned and called for ale. the ale which was brought was not ale which i am particularly fond of. the ale which i am fond of is ale about nine or ten months old, somewhat hard, tasting well of malt and little of the hop--ale such as farmers, and noblemen too, of the good old time, when farmers' daughters did not play on pianos and noblemen did not sell their game, were in the habit of offering to both high and low, and drinking themselves. the ale which was brought to me was thin washy stuff, which though it did not taste much of hop, tasted still less of malt, made and sold by one allsopp, who i am told calls himself a squire and a gentleman--as he certainly may with quite as much right as many a lord calls himself a nobleman and a gentleman; for surely it is not a fraction more trumpery to make and sell ale than to fatten and sell game. the ale of the saxon squire, for allsopp is decidedly an old saxon name, however unakin to the practice of old saxon squires the selling of ale may be, was drinkable, for it was fresh, and the day, as i have said before, exceedingly hot; so i took frequent draughts out of the shining metal tankard in which it was brought, deliberating both whilst drinking, and in the intervals of drinking, on what i had next best do. * * * * * late in the afternoon we reached medina del campo, formerly one of the principal cities of spain, though at present an inconsiderable place. immense ruins surround it in every direction, attesting the former grandeur of this 'city of the plain.' the great square or market place is a remarkable spot, surrounded by a heavy massive piazza, over which rise black buildings of great antiquity. we found the town crowded with people awaiting the fair, which was to be held in a day or two. we experienced some difficulty in obtaining admission into the posada, which was chiefly occupied by catalans from valladolid. these people not only brought with them their merchandise, but their wives and children. some of them appeared to be people of the worst description: there was one in particular, a burly savage-looking fellow, of about forty, whose conduct was atrocious; he sat with his wife, or perhaps concubine, at the door of a room which opened upon the court: he was continually venting horrible and obscene oaths, both in spanish and catalan. the woman was remarkably handsome, but robust, and seemingly as savage as himself; her conversation likewise was as frightful as his own. both seemed to be under the influence of an incomprehensible fury. at last, upon some observation from the woman, he started up, and drawing a long knife from his girdle, stabbed at her naked bosom; she, however, interposed the palm of her hand, which was much cut. he stood for a moment viewing the blood trickling upon the ground, whilst she held up her wounded hand; then, with an astounding oath, he hurried up the court to the plaza. i went up to the woman and said, 'what is the cause of this? i hope the ruffian has not seriously injured you.' she turned her countenance upon me with the glance of a demon, and at last with a sneer of contempt exclaimed, 'carals, que es eso? cannot a catalan gentleman be conversing with his lady upon their own private affairs without being interrupted by you?' she then bound up her hand with a handkerchief, and going into the room brought a small table to the door, on which she placed several things, as if for the evening's repast, and then sat down on a stool. presently returned the catalan, and without a word took his seat on the threshold; then, as if nothing had occurred, the extraordinary couple commenced eating and drinking, interlarding their meal with oaths and jests. * * * * * i had till then considered him a plain, uninformed old man, almost simple, and as incapable of much emotion as a tortoise within its shell; but he had become at once inspired: his eyes were replete with a bright fire, and every muscle of his face was quivering. the little silk skull- cap which he wore, according to the custom of the catholic clergy, moved up and down with his agitation; and i soon saw that i was in the presence of one of those remarkable men who so frequently spring up in the bosom of the romish church, and who to a child-like simplicity unite immense energy and power of mind--equally adapted to guide a scanty flock of ignorant rustics in some obscure village in italy or spain, as to convert millions of heathens on the shores of japan, china, and paraguay. he was a thin spare man, of about sixty-five, and was dressed in a black cloak of very coarse materials; nor were his other garments of superior quality. this plainness, however, in the appearance of his outward man was by no means the result of poverty; quite the contrary. the benefice was a very plentiful one, and placed at his disposal annually a sum of at least eight hundred dollars, of which the eighth part was more than sufficient to defray the expenses of his house and himself; the rest was devoted entirely to the purest acts of charity. he fed the hungry wanderer, and despatched him singing on his way, with meat in his wallet and a peseta in his purse; and his parishioners, when in need of money, had only to repair to his study, and were sure of an immediate supply. he was, indeed, the banker of the village, and what he lent he neither expected nor wished to be returned. though under the necessity of making frequent journeys to salamanca, he kept no mule, but contented himself with an ass, borrowed from the neighbouring miller. 'i once kept a mule,' said he; 'but some years since it was removed without my permission by a traveller whom i had housed for the night: for in that alcove i keep two clean beds for the use of the wayfaring, and i shall be very much pleased if yourself and friend will occupy them, and tarry with me till the morning.' * * * * * 'what mountains are those?' i inquired of a barber-surgeon who, mounted like myself on a grey burra, joined me about noon, and proceeded in my company for several leagues. 'they have many names, caballero,' replied the barber; 'according to the names of the neighbouring places, so they are called. yon portion of them is styled the serrania of plasencia; and opposite to madrid they are termed the mountains of guadarrama, from a river of that name, which descends from them. they run a vast way, caballero, and separate the two kingdoms, for on the other side is old castile. they are mighty mountains, and, though they generate much cold, i take pleasure in looking at them, which is not to be wondered at, seeing that i was born amongst them, though at present, for my sins, i live in a village of the plain. caballero, there is not another such range in spain; they have their secrets, too--their mysteries. strange tales are told of those hills, and of what they contain in their deep recesses, for they are a broad chain, and you may wander days and days amongst them without coming to any termino. many have lost themselves on those hills, and have never again been heard of. strange things are told of them: it is said that in certain places there are deep pools and lakes, in which dwell monsters, huge serpents as long as a pine tree, and horses of the flood, which sometimes come out and commit mighty damage. one thing is certain, that yonder, far away to the west, in the heart of those hills, there is a wonderful valley, so narrow that only at mid-day is the face of the sun to be descried from it. that valley lay undiscovered and unknown for thousands of years; no person dreamed of its existence. but at last, a long time ago, certain hunters entered it by chance, and then what do you think they found, caballero? they found a small nation or tribe of unknown people, speaking an unknown language, who, perhaps, had lived there since the creation of the world, without intercourse with the rest of their fellow-creatures, and without knowing that other beings besides themselves existed! caballero, did you never hear of the valley of the batuecas? many books have been written about that valley and those people. caballero, i am proud of yonder hills; and were i independent, and without wife or children, i would purchase a burra like that of your own--which i see is an excellent one, and far superior to mine--and travel amongst them till i knew all their mysteries, and had seen all the wondrous things which they contain.' * * * * * we had scarcely been five minutes at the window, when we suddenly heard the clattering of horses' feet hastening down the street called the calle de carretas. the house in which we had stationed ourselves was, as i have already observed, just opposite to the post-office, at the left of which this street debouches from the north into the puerta del sol: as the sounds became louder and louder, the cries of the crowd below diminished, and a species of panic seemed to have fallen upon all: once or twice, however, i could distinguish the words, 'quesada! quesada!' the foot soldiers stood calm and motionless, but i observed that the cavalry, with the young officer who commanded them, displayed both confusion and fear, exchanging with each other some hurried words. all of a sudden that part of the crowd which stood near the mouth of the calle de carretas fell back in great disorder, leaving a considerable space unoccupied, and the next moment quesada, in complete general's uniform, and mounted on a bright bay thoroughbred english horse, with a drawn sword in his hand, dashed at full gallop into the area, in much the same manner as i have seen a manchegan bull rush into the amphitheatre when the gates of his pen are suddenly flung open. he was closely followed by two mounted officers, and at a short distance by as many dragoons. in almost less time than is sufficient to relate it, several individuals in the crowd were knocked down and lay sprawling upon the ground, beneath the horses of quesada and his two friends, for as to the dragoons, they halted as soon as they had entered the puerta del sol. it was a fine sight to see three men, by dint of valour and good horsemanship, strike terror into at least as many thousands: i saw quesada spur his horse repeatedly into the dense masses of the crowd, and then extricate himself in the most masterly manner. the rabble were completely awed, and gave way, retiring by the calle del comercio and the calle del alcala. all at once, quesada singled out two nationals, who were attempting to escape, and setting spurs to his horse, turned them in a moment, and drove them in another direction, striking them in a contemptuous manner with the flat of his sabre. he was crying out, 'long live the absolute queen!' when, just beneath me, amidst a portion of the crowd which had still maintained its ground, perhaps from not having the means of escaping, i saw a small gun glitter for a moment; then there was a sharp report, and a bullet had nearly sent quesada to his long account, passing so near to the countenance of the general as to graze his hat. i had an indistinct view for a moment of a well-known foraging cap just about the spot from whence the gun had been discharged, then there was a rush of the crowd, and the shooter, whoever he was, escaped discovery amidst the confusion which arose. as for quesada, he seemed to treat the danger from which he had escaped with the utmost contempt. he glared about him fiercely for a moment, then leaving the two nationals, who sneaked away like whipped hounds, he went up to the young officer who commanded the cavalry, and who had been active in raising the cry of the constitution, and to him he addressed a few words with an air of stern menace; the youth evidently quailed before him, and, probably in obedience to his orders, resigned the command of the party, and rode away with a discomfited air; whereupon quesada dismounted and walked slowly backwards and forwards before the casa de postas with a mien which seemed to bid defiance to mankind. this was the glorious day of quesada's existence, his glorious and last day. i call it the day of his glory, for he certainly never before appeared under such brilliant circumstances, and he never lived to see another sun set. no action of any conqueror or hero on record is to be compared with this closing scene of the life of quesada, for who, by his single desperate courage and impetuosity, ever stopped a revolution in full course? quesada did: he stopped the revolution at madrid for one entire day, and brought back the uproarious and hostile mob of a huge city to perfect order and quiet. his burst into the puerta del sol was the most tremendous and successful piece of daring ever witnessed. i admired so much the spirit of the 'brute bull' that i frequently, during his wild onset, shouted, 'viva quesada!' for i wished him well. * * * * * i have heard talk of the pleasures of idleness, yet it is my own firm belief that no one ever yet took pleasure in it. mere idleness is the most disagreeable state of existence, and both mind and body are continually making efforts to escape from it. it has been said that idleness is the parent of mischief, which is very true; but mischief itself is merely an attempt to escape from the dreary vacuum of idleness. there are many tasks and occupations which a man is unwilling to perform, but let no one think that he is therefore in love with idleness; he turns to something which is more agreeable to his inclination, and doubtless more suited to his nature; but he is not in love with idleness. a boy may play the truant from school because he dislikes books and study; but, depend upon it, he intends doing something the while--to go fishing, or perhaps to take a walk; and who knows but that from such excursions both his mind and body may derive more benefit than from books and school? many people go to sleep to escape from idleness; the spaniards do; and, according to the french account, john bull, the 'squire, hangs himself in the month of november; but the french, who are a very sensible people, attribute the action, 'a une grande envie de se desennuyer;' he wishes to be doing something say they, and having nothing better to do, he has recourse to the cord. * * * * * 'well,' said the old man, 'i once saw the king of the vipers, and since then--' 'the king of the vipers!' said i, interrupting him; 'have the vipers a king?' 'as sure as we have,' said the old man, 'as sure as we have king george to rule over us, have these reptiles a king to rule over them.' 'and where did you see him?' said i. 'i will tell you,' said the old man, 'though i don't like talking about the matter. it may be about seven years ago that i happened to be far down yonder to the west, on the other side of england, nearly two hundred miles from here, following my business. it was a very sultry day, i remember, and i had been out several hours catching creatures. it might be about three o'clock in the afternoon, when i found myself on some heathy land near the sea, on the ridge of a hill, the side of which, nearly as far down as the sea, was heath; but on the top there was arable ground, which had been planted, and from which the harvest had been gathered--oats or barley, i know not which--but i remember that the ground was covered with stubble. well, about three o'clock, as i told you before, what with the heat of the day and from having walked about for hours in a lazy way, i felt very tired; so i determined to have a sleep, and i laid myself down, my head just on the ridge of the hill, towards the field, and my body over the side down amongst the heath; my bag, which was nearly filled with creatures, lay at a little distance from my face; the creatures were struggling in it, i remember, and i thought to myself, how much more comfortably off i was than they; i was taking my ease on the nice open hill, cooled with the breezes, whilst they were in the nasty close bag, coiling about one another, and breaking their very hearts, all to no purpose; and i felt quite comfortable and happy in the thought, and little by little closed my eyes, and fell into the sweetest snooze that ever i was in in all my life; and there i lay over the hill's side, with my head half in the field, i don't know how long, all dead asleep. at last it seemed to me that i heard a noise in my sleep, something like a thing moving, very faint, however, far away; then it died, and then it came again upon my ear as i slept, and now it appeared almost as if i heard crackle, crackle; then it died again, or i became yet more dead asleep than before, i know not which, but i certainly lay some time without hearing it. all of a sudden i became awake, and there was i, on the ridge of the hill, with my cheek on the ground towards the stubble, with a noise in my ear like that of something moving towards me, amongst the stubble of the field; well, i lay a moment or two listening to the noise, and then i became frightened, for i did not like the noise at all, it sounded so odd; so i rolled myself on my belly, and looked towards the stubble. mercy upon us! there was a huge snake, or rather a dreadful viper, for it was all yellow and gold, moving towards me, bearing its head about a foot and a half above the ground, the dry stubble crackling beneath its outrageous belly. it might be about five yards off when i first saw it, making straight towards me, child, as if it would devour me. i lay quite still, for i was stupefied with horror, whilst the creature came still nearer; and now it was nearly upon me, when it suddenly drew back a little, and then--what do you think?--it lifted its head and chest high in the air, and high over my face as i looked up, flickering at me with its tongue as if it would fly at my face. child, what i felt at that moment i can scarcely say, but it was a sufficient punishment for all the sins i ever committed; and there we two were, i looking up at the viper, and the viper looking down upon me, flickering at me with its tongue. it was only the kindness of god that saved me: all at once there was a loud noise, the report of a gun, for a fowler was shooting at a covey of birds, a little way off in the stubble. whereupon the viper sunk its head, and immediately made off over the ridge of the hill, down in the direction of the sea. as it passed by me, however--and it passed close by me--it hesitated a moment, as if it was doubtful whether it should not seize me; it did not, however, but made off down the hill. it has often struck me that he was angry with me, and came upon me unawares for presuming to meddle with his people, as i have always been in the habit of doing.' 'but,' said i, 'how do you know that it was the king of the vipers?' 'how do i know?' said the old man, 'who else should it be? there was as much difference between it and other reptiles as between king george and other people.' 'is king george, then, different from other people?' i demanded. 'of course,' said the old man; 'i have never seen him myself, but i have heard people say that he is a ten times greater man than other folks; indeed, it stands to reason that he must be different from the rest, else people would not be so eager to see him. do you think, child, that people would be fools enough to run a matter of twenty or thirty miles to see the king, provided king george--' * * * * * i sat upon the bank, at the bottom of the hill which slopes down from 'the earl's home'; my float was on the waters, and my back was towards the old hall. i drew up many fish, small and great, which i took from off the hook mechanically and flung upon the bank, for i was almost unconscious of what i was about, for my mind was not with my fish. i was thinking of my earlier years--of the scottish crags and the heaths of ireland--and sometimes my mind would dwell on my studies--on the sonorous stanzas of dante, rising and falling like the waves of the sea--or would strive to remember a couplet or two of poor monsieur boileau. 'canst thou answer to thy conscience for pulling all those fish out of the water, and leaving them to gasp in the sun?' said a voice, clear and sonorous as a bell. i started, and looked round. close behind me stood the tall figure of a man, dressed in raiment of quaint and singular fashion, but of goodly materials. he was in the prime and vigour of manhood; his features handsome and noble, but full of calmness and benevolence; at least, i thought so, though they were somewhat shaded by a hat of finest beaver, with broad drooping eaves. 'surely that is a very cruel diversion in which thou indulgest, my young friend,' he continued. 'i am sorry for it, if it be, sir,' said i, rising; 'but i do not think it cruel to fish.' 'what are thy reasons for not thinking so?' 'fishing is mentioned frequently in scripture. simon peter was a fisherman.' 'true; and andrew and his brother. but thou forgettest: they did not follow fishing as a diversion, as i fear thou doest. thou readest the scriptures?' 'sometimes.' 'sometimes? not daily? that is to be regretted. what profession dost thou make? i mean to what religious denomination dost thou belong, my young friend?' 'church.' 'it is a very good profession--there is much of scripture contained in its liturgy. dost thou read aught besides the scriptures?' 'sometimes.' 'what dost thou read besides?' 'greek, and dante.' 'indeed! then thou hast the advantage over myself; i can only read the former. well, i am rejoiced to find that thou hast other pursuits besides thy fishing. dost thou know hebrew?' 'no.' 'thou shouldst study it. why dost thou not undertake the study?' 'i have no books.' 'i will lend thee books, if thou wish to undertake the study. i live yonder at the hall, as perhaps thou knowest. i have a library there, in which are many curious books, both in greek and hebrew, which i will show to thee, whenever them mayest find it convenient to come and see me. farewell! i am glad to find that thou hast pursuits more satisfactory than thy cruel fishing.' and the man of peace departed, and left me on the bank of the stream. whether from the effect of his words, or from want of inclination to the sport, i know not, but from that day i became less and less a practitioner of that 'cruel fishing.' * * * * * ah, that irish! how frequently do circumstances, at first sight the most trivial and unimportant, exercise a mighty and permanent influence on our habits and pursuits!--how frequently is a stream turned aside from its natural course by some little rock or knoll, causing it to make an abrupt turn! on a wild road in ireland i had heard irish spoken for the first time; and i was seized with a desire to learn irish, the acquisition of which, in my case, became the stepping-stone to other languages. i had previously learnt latin, or rather lilly; but neither latin nor lilly made me a philologist. i had frequently heard french and other languages, but had felt little desire to become acquainted with them; and what, it may be asked, was there connected with the irish calculated to recommend it to my attention? first of all, and principally, i believe, the strangeness and singularity of its tones; then there was something mysterious and uncommon associated with its use. it was not a school language, to acquire which was considered an imperative duty; no, no; nor was it a drawing-room language, drawled out occasionally, in shreds and patches by the ladies of generals and other great dignitaries, to the ineffable dismay of poor officers' wives. nothing of the kind; but a speech spoken in out-of-the- way desolate places, and in cut-throat kens, where thirty ruffians, at the sight of the king's minions, would spring up with brandished sticks and an 'ubbubboo, like the blowing up of a powder-magazine.' such were the points connected with the irish, which first awakened in my mind the desire of acquiring it; and by acquiring it i became, as i have already said, enamoured of languages. having learnt one by choice, i speedily, as the reader will perceive, learnt others, some of which were widely different from irish. * * * * * i said: 'now, murtagh, tit for tat; ye will be telling me one of the old stories of finn-ma-coul.' 'och, shorsha! i haven't heart enough,' said murtagh. 'thank you for your tale, but it makes me weep; it brings to my mind dungarvon times of old--i mean the times we were at school together.' 'cheer up, man,' said i, 'and let's have the story, and let it be about ma-coul and the salmon and his thumb.' 'well, you know ma- coul was an exposed child, and came floating over the salt sea in a chest which was cast ashore at veintry bay. in the corner of that bay was a castle, where dwelt a giant and his wife, very respectable and dacent people, and this giant, taking his morning walk along the bay, came to the place where the child had been cast ashore in his box. well, the giant looked at the child, and being filled with compassion for his exposed state, took the child up in his box, and carried him home to his castle, where he and his wife, being dacent respectable people, as i telled ye before, fostered the child and took care of him, till he became old enough to go out to service and gain his livelihood, when they bound him out apprentice to another giant, who lived in a castle up the country, at some distance from the bay. 'this giant, whose name was darmod david odeen, was not a respectable person at all, but a big ould wagabone. he was twice the size of the other giant, who, though bigger than any man, was not a big giant; for, as there are great and small men, so there are great and small giants--i mean some are small when compared with the others. well, finn served this giant a considerable time, doing all kinds of hard and unreasonable service for him, and receiving all kinds of hard words, and many a hard knock and kick to boot--sorrow befall the ould wagabone who could thus ill treat a helpless foundling. it chanced that one day the giant caught a salmon, near a salmon-leap upon his estate--for, though a big ould blackguard, he was a person of considerable landed property, and high sheriff for the county cork. well, the giant brings home the salmon by the gills, and delivers it to finn, telling him to roast it for the giant's dinner; "but take care, ye young blackguard," he added, "that in roasting it--and i expect ye to roast it well--you do not let a blister come upon its nice satin skin, for if ye do, i will cut the head off your shoulders." "well," thinks finn, "this is a hard task; however, as i have done many hard tasks for him, i will try and do this too, though i was never set to do anything yet half so difficult." so he prepared his fire, and put his gridiron upon it, and lays the salmon fairly and softly upon the gridiron, and then he roasts it, turning it from one side to the other just in the nick of time, before the soft satin skin could be blistered. however, on turning it over the eleventh time--and twelve would have settled the business--he found he had delayed a little bit of time too long in turning it over, and there was a small, tiny blister on the soft outer skin. well, finn was in a mighty panic, remembering the threats of the ould giant; however, he did not lose heart, but clapped his thumb upon the blister in order to smooth it down. now the salmon, shorsha, was nearly done, and the flesh thoroughly hot, so finn's thumb was scalt, and he, clapping it to his mouth, sucked it, in order to draw out the pain, and in a moment--hubbuboo!--became imbued with all the wisdom of the world.' * * * * * here i interrupted the jockey. 'how singular,' said i, 'is the fall and debasement of words; you talk of a gang, or set, of shorters; you are, perhaps, not aware that gang and set were, a thousand years ago, only connected with the great and divine; they are ancient norse words, which may be found in the heroic poems of the north, and in the edda, a collection of mythologic and heroic songs. in these poems we read that such and such a king invaded norway with a gang of heroes; or so and so, for example, erik bloodaxe, was admitted to the set of gods; but at present gang and set are merely applied to the vilest of the vile, and the lowest of the low,--we say a gang of thieves and shorters, or a set of authors. how touching is this debasement of words in the course of time; it puts me in mind of the decay of old houses and names. i have known a mortimer who was a hedger and ditcher, a berners who was born in a workhouse, and a descendant of the de burghs, who bore the falcon, mending old kettles, and making horse and pony shoes in a dingle.' * * * * * 'and who is jerry grant?' did you never hear of him? that's strange; the whole country is talking about him; he is a kind of outlaw, rebel, or robber, all three, i dare say; there's a hundred pounds offered for his head.' 'and where does he live?' 'his proper home, they say, is in the queen's county, where he has a band; but he is a strange fellow, fond of wandering about by himself amidst the bogs and mountains, and living in the old castles; occasionally he quarters himself in the peasants' houses, who let him do just as he pleases; he is free of his money, and often does them good turns, and can be good-humoured enough, so they don't dislike him. then he is what they call a fairy man, a person in league with fairies and spirits, and able to work much harm by supernatural means, on which account they hold him in great awe; he is, moreover, a mighty strong and tall fellow. bagg has seen him.' 'has he?' 'yes! and felt him; he too is a strange one. a few days ago he was told that grant had been seen hovering about an old castle some two miles off in the bog; so one afternoon what does he do but, without saying a word to me--for which, by-the-bye, i ought to put him under arrest, though what i should do without bagg i have no idea whatever--what does he do but walk off to the castle, intending, as i suppose, to pay a visit to jerry. he had some difficulty in getting there on account of the turf- holes in the bog, which he was not accustomed to; however, thither at last he got and went in. it was a strange lonesome place, he says, and he did not much like the look of it; however, in he went, and searched about from the bottom to the top and down again, but could find no one; he shouted and hallooed, but nobody answered, save the rooks and choughs, which started up in great numbers. "i have lost my trouble," said bagg, and left the castle. it was now late in the afternoon, near sunset, when about half way over the bog he met a man--' 'and that man was--' 'jerry grant! there's no doubt of it. bagg says it was the most sudden thing in the world. he was moving along, making the best of his way, thinking of nothing at all save a public-house at swanton morley, which he intends to take when he gets home and the regiment is disbanded--though i hope that will not be for some time yet: he had just leaped a turf-hole, and was moving on, when, at the distance of about six yards before him, he saw a fellow coming straight towards him. bagg says that he stopped short, as suddenly as if he had heard the word halt, when marching at double-quick time. it was quite a surprise, he says, and he can't imagine how the fellow was so close upon him before he was aware. he was an immense tall fellow--bagg thinks at least two inches taller than himself--very well dressed in a blue coat and buff breeches, for all the world like a squire when going out hunting. bagg, however, saw at once that he had a roguish air, and he was on his guard in a moment. "good evening to ye, sodger," says the fellow, stepping close up to bagg, and staring him in the face. "good evening to you, sir! i hope you are well," says bagg. "you are looking after some one?" says the fellow. "just so, sir," says bagg, and forthwith seized him by the collar; the man laughed, bagg says it was such a strange awkward laugh. "do you know whom you have got hold of, sodger?" said he. "i believe i do, sir," said bagg, "and in that belief will hold you fast in the name of king george, and the quarter sessions;" the next moment he was sprawling with his heels in the air. bagg says there was nothing remarkable in that; he was only flung by a kind of wrestling trick, which he could easily have baffled, had he been aware of it. "you will not do that again, sir," said he, as he got up and put himself on his guard. the fellow laughed again more strangely and awkwardly than before; then, bending his body and moving his head from one side to the other, as a cat does before she springs, and crying out, "here's for ye, sodger!" he made a dart at bagg, rushing in with his head foremost. "that will do, sir," says bagg, and drawing himself back he put in a left-handed blow with all the force of his body and arm, just over the fellow's right eye--bagg is a left-handed hitter, you must know--and it was a blow of that kind which won him his famous battle at edinburgh with the big highland sergeant. bagg says that he was quite satisfied with the blow, more especially when he saw the fellow reel, fling out his arms, and fall to the ground. "and now, sir," said he, "i'll make bold to hand you over to the quarter sessions, and, if there is a hundred pounds for taking you, who has more right to it than myself?" so he went forward, but ere he could lay hold of his man the other was again on his legs, and was prepared to renew the combat. they grappled each other--bagg says he had not much fear of the result, as he now felt himself the best man, the other seeming half stunned with the blow--but just then there came on a blast, a horrible roaring wind bearing night upon its wings, snow, and sleet, and hail. bagg says he had the fellow by the throat quite fast, as he thought, but suddenly he became bewildered, and knew not where he was; and the man seemed to melt away from his grasp, and the wind howled more and more, and the night poured down darker and darker, the snow and the sleet thicker and more blinding. "lord have mercy upon us!" said bagg. myself. a strange adventure that; it is well that bagg got home alive. john. he says that the fight was a fair fight, and that the fling he got was a fair fling, the result of a common enough wrestling trick. but with respect to the storm which rose up just in time to save the fellow, he is of opinion that it was not fair, but something irish and supernatural. myself. i dare say he's right. i have read of witchcraft in the bible. john. he wishes much to have one more encounter with the fellow; he says that on fair ground, and in fine weather, he has no doubt that he could master him, and hand him over to the quarter sessions. he says that a hundred pounds would be no bad thing to be disbanded upon; for he wishes to take an inn at swanton morley, keep a cock-pit, and live respectably. myself. he is quite right; and now kiss me, my darling brother, for i must go back through the bog to templemore. * * * * * 'is it a long time since you have seen any of these gwyddeliaid [irish]?' 'about two months, sir, and then a terrible fright they caused me.' 'how was that?' 'i will tell you, sir; i had been across the berwyn to carry home a piece of weaving work to a person who employs me. it was night as i returned, and when i was about halfway down the hill, at a place which is called allt paddy, because the gwyddelod are in the habit of taking up their quarters there, i came upon a gang of them, who had come there and camped and lighted their fire whilst i was on the other side of the hill. there were nearly twenty of them, men and women, and amongst the rest was a man standing naked in a tub of water with two women stroking him down with clouts. he was a large fierce-looking fellow and his body, on which the flame of the fire glittered, was nearly covered with red hair. i never saw such a sight. as i passed they glared at me and talked violently in their paddy gwyddel, but did not offer to molest me. i hastened down the hill, and right glad i was when i found myself safe and sound at my house in llangollen, with my money in my pocket, for i had several shillings there, which the man across the hill had paid me for the work which i had done.' * * * * * now, a tinker is his own master, a scholar is not. let us suppose the best of scholars, a schoolmaster, for example, for i suppose you will admit that no one can be higher in scholarship than a schoolmaster; do you call his a pleasant life? i don't; we should call him a school-slave, rather than a schoolmaster. only conceive him in blessed weather like this, in his close school, teaching children to write in copy-books, 'evil communication corrupts good manners.' . . . only conceive him, i say, drudging in such guise from morning till night, without any rational enjoyment but to beat the children. would you compare such a dog's life as that with your own--the happiest under heaven--true eden life, as the germans would say,--pitching your tent under the pleasant hedgerow, listening to the song of the feathered tribes, collecting all the leaky kettles in the neighbourhood, soldering and joining, earning your honest bread by the wholesome sweat of your brow--making ten holes--hey, what's this? what's the man crying for? * * * * * 'did you speak, don jorge?' demanded the archbishop. 'that is a fine brilliant on your lordship's hand,' said i. 'you are fond of brilliants, don jorge,' said the archbishop, his features brightening up; 'vaya! so am i; they are pretty things. do you understand them?' 'i do,' said i, 'and i never saw a finer brilliant than your own, one excepted; it belonged to an acquaintance of mine, a tartar khan. he did not bear it on his finger, however; it stood in the frontlet of his horse, where it shone like a star. he called it daoud scharr, which, being interpreted, meaneth light of war.' 'vaya!' said the archbishop, 'how very extraordinary! i am glad you are fond of brilliants, don jorge. speaking of horses, reminds me that i have frequently seen you on horseback. vaya! how you ride! it is dangerous to be in your way.' 'is your lordship fond of equestrian exercise?' 'by no means, don jorge; i do not like horses. it is not the practice of the church to ride on horseback. we prefer mules; they are the quieter animals. i fear horses, they kick so violently.' 'the kick of a horse is death,' said i, 'if it touches a vital part. i am not, however, of your lordship's opinion with respect to mules: a good ginete may retain his seat on a horse however vicious, but a mule--vaya! when a false mule tira par detras, i do not believe that the father of the church himself could keep the saddle a moment, however sharp his bit.' * * * * * francis ardry and myself dined together, and after dinner partook of a bottle of the best port which the inn afforded. after a few glasses, we had a great deal of conversation; i again brought the subject of marriage and love, divine love, upon the carpet, but francis almost immediately begged me to drop it; and on my having the delicacy to comply, he reverted to dog-fighting, on which he talked well and learnedly; amongst other things, he said that it was a princely sport of great antiquity, and quoted from quintus curtius to prove that the princes of india must have been of the fancy, they having, according to that author, treated alexander to a fight between certain dogs and a lion. becoming, notwithstanding my friend's eloquence and learning, somewhat tired of the subject, i began to talk about alexander. francis ardry said he was one of the two great men whom the world has produced, the other being napoleon; i replied that i believed tamerlane was a greater man than either; but francis ardry knew nothing of tamerlane, save what he had gathered from the play of timour the tartar. 'no,' said he, 'alexander and napoleon are the great men of the world, their names are known everywhere. alexander has been dead upwards of two too thousand years, but the very english bumpkins sometimes christen their boys by the name of alexander--can there be a greater evidence of his greatness? as for napoleon, there are some parts of india in which his bust is worshipped.' wishing to make up a triumvirate, i mentioned the name of wellington, to which francis ardry merely said, 'bah!' and resumed the subject of dog- fighting. * * * * * after a slight breakfast i mounted the horse, which, decked out in his borrowed finery, really looked better by a large sum of money than on any former occasion. making my way out of the yard of the inn, i was instantly in the principal street of the town, up and down which an immense number of horses were being exhibited, some led, and others with riders. 'a wonderful small quantity of good horses in the fair this time!' i heard a stout, jockey-looking individual say, who was staring up the street with his side towards me. 'halloo, young fellow!' said he, a few moments after i had passed, 'whose horse is that? stop! i want to look at him!' though confident that he was addressing himself to me, i took no notice, remembering the advice of the ostler, and proceeded up the street. my horse possessed a good walking step; but walking, as the reader knows, was not his best pace, which was the long trot, at which i could not well exercise him in the street, on account of the crowd of men and animals; however, as he walked along, i could easily perceive that he attracted no slight attention amongst those who, by their jockey dress and general appearance, i imagined to be connoisseurs; i heard various calls to stop, to none of which i paid the slightest attention. in a few minutes i found myself out of the town, when, turning round for the purpose of returning, i found i had been followed by several of the connoisseur-looking individuals, whom i had observed in the fair. 'now would be the time for a display,' thought i; and looking around me i observed two five-barred gates, one on each side of the road, and fronting each other. turning my horse's head to one, i pressed my heels to his sides, loosened the reins, and gave an encouraging cry, whereupon the animal cleared the gate in a twinkling. before he had advanced ten yards in the field to which the gate opened, i had turned him round, and again giving him cry and rein, i caused him to leap back again into the road, and still allowing him head, i made him leap the other gate; and forthwith turning him round, i caused him to leap once more into the road, where he stood proudly tossing his head, as much as to say, 'what more?' 'a fine horse! a capital horse!' said several of the connoisseurs. 'what do you ask for him?' 'too much for any of you to pay,' said i. 'a horse like this is intended for other kind of customers than any of you.' 'how do you know that?' said one; the very same person whom i had heard complaining in the street of the paucity of good horses in the fair. 'come, let us know what you ask for him?' 'a hundred and fifty pounds,' said i; 'neither more nor less.' 'do you call that a great price?' said the man. 'why, i thought you would have asked double that amount! you do yourself injustice, young man.' 'perhaps i do,' said i, 'but that's my affair; i do not choose to take more.' 'i wish you would let me get into the saddle,' said the man; 'the horse knows you, and therefore shows to more advantage; but i should like to see how he would move under me, who am a stranger. will you let me get into the saddle, young man?' 'no,' said i; 'i will not let you get into the saddle.' 'why not?' said the man. 'lest you should be a yorkshireman,' said i, 'and should run away with the horse.' 'yorkshire?' said the man; 'i am from suffolk, silly suffolk, so you need not be afraid of my running away with the horse.' 'oh! if that's the case,' said i, 'i should be afraid that the horse would run away with you; so i will by no means let you mount.' 'will you let me look in his mouth?' said the man. 'if you please,' said i; 'but i tell you, he's apt to bite.' 'he can scarcely be a worse bite than his master,' said the man, looking into the horse's mouth; 'he's four off. i say, young man, will you warrant this horse?' 'no,' said i; 'i never warrant horses; the horses that i ride can always warrant themselves.' 'i wish you would let me speak a word to you,' said he. 'just come aside. it's a nice horse,' said he in a half- whisper, after i had ridden a few paces aside with him. 'it's a nice horse,' said he, placing his hand upon the pommel of the saddle, and looking up in my face, 'and i think i can find you a customer. if you would take a hundred, i think my lord would purchase it, for he has sent me about the fair to look him up a horse, by which he could hope to make an honest penny.' 'well,' said i, 'and could he not make an honest penny, and yet give me the price i ask?' 'why,' said the go-between, 'a hundred and fifty pounds is as much as the animal is worth, or nearly so; and my lord, do you see--' 'i see no reason at all,' said i, 'why i should sell the animal for less than he is worth, in order that his lordship may be benefited by him; so that if his lordship wants to make an honest penny, he must find some person who would consider the disadvantage of selling him a horse for less than it is worth as counterbalanced by the honour of dealing with a lord, which i should never do; but i can't be wasting my time here. i am going back to the --- , where, if you, or any person, are desirous of purchasing the horse, you must come within the next half-hour, or i shall probably not feel disposed to sell him at all.' 'another word, young man,' said the jockey, but without staying to hear what he had to say, i put the horse to his best trot, and re-entering the town, and threading my way as well as i could through the press, i returned to the yard of the inn, where, dismounting, i stood still, holding the horse by the bridle. * * * * * i did not like reviewing at all--it was not to my taste; it was not in my way; i liked it far less than translating the publisher's philosophy, for that was something in the line of one whom a competent judge had surnamed 'lavengro.' i never could understand why reviews were instituted; works of merit do not require to be reviewed, they can speak for themselves, and require no praising; works of no merit at all will die of themselves, they require no killing. * * * * * a lad, who twenty tongues can talk, and sixty miles a day can walk; drink at a draught a pint of rum, and then be neither sick nor dumb; can tune a song, and make a verse, and deeds of northern kings rehearse; who never will forsake his friend, while he his bony fist can bend; and, though averse to brawl and strife, will fight a dutchman with a knife, o that is just the lad for me, and such is honest six-foot three. a braver being ne'er had birth since god first kneaded man from earth; o, i have come to know him well, as ferroe's blacken'd rocks can tell. who was it did, at suderoe, the deed no other dared to do? who was it, when the boff had burst, and whelm'd me in its womb accurst, who was it dashed amid the wave, with frantic zeal, my life to save? who was it flung the rope to me? o, who, but honest six-foot three! who was it taught my willing tongue, the songs that braga fram'd and sung? who was it op'd to me the store of dark unearthly runic lore, and taught me to beguile my time with denmark's aged and witching rhyme; to rest in thought in elvir shades, and hear the song of fairy maids; or climb the top of dovrefeld, where magic knights their muster held: who was it did all this for me? o, who, but honest six-foot three! wherever fate shall bid me roam, far, far from social joy and home; 'mid burning afric's desert sands; or wild kamschatka's frozen lands; bit by the poison-loaded breeze or blasts which clog with ice the seas; in lowly cot or lordly hall, in beggar's rags or robes of pall, 'mong robber-bands or honest men, in crowded town or forest den, i never will unmindful be of what i owe to six-foot three. that form which moves with giant grace-- that wild, tho' not unhandsome face; that voice which sometimes in its tone is softer than the wood-dove's moan, at others, louder than the storm which beats the side of old cairn gorm; that hand, as white as falling snow, which yet can fell the stoutest foe; and, last of all, that noble heart, which ne'er from honour's path would start shall never be forgot by me-- so farewell, honest six-foot three. * * * * * 'he is a great fool who is ever dishonest in england. any person who has any natural gift, and everybody has some natural gift, is sure of finding encouragement in this noble country of ours, provided he will but exhibit it. i had not walked more than three miles before i came to a wonderfully high church steeple, which stood close by the road; i looked at the steeple, and going to a heap of smooth pebbles which lay by the roadside, i took up some, and then went into the churchyard, and placing myself just below the tower, my right foot resting on a ledge, about two feet from the ground, i, with my left hand--being a left-handed person, do you see--flung or chucked up a stone, which lighting on the top of the steeple, which was at least a hundred and fifty feet high, did there remain. after repeating this feat two or three times, i "hulled" up a stone, which went clean over the tower, and then one, my right foot still on the ledge, which rising at least five yards above the steeple, did fall down just at my feet. without knowing it, i was showing off my gift to others besides myself, doing what, perhaps, not five men in england could do. two men, who were passing by, stopped and looked at my proceedings, and when i had done flinging came into the churchyard, and, after paying me a compliment on what they had seen me do, proposed that i should join company with them; i asked them who they were, and they told me. the one was hopping ned, and the other biting giles. both had their gifts, by which they got their livelihood; ned could hop a hundred yards with any man in england, and giles could lift up with his teeth any dresser or kitchen table in the country, and, standing erect, hold it dangling in his jaws. there's many a big oak table and dresser in certain districts of england, which bear the marks of giles's teeth; and i make no doubt that, a hundred or two years hence, there'll be strange stories about those marks, and that people will point them out as a proof that there were giants in bygone times, and that many a dentist will moralise on the decays which human teeth have undergone. 'they wanted me to go about with them, and exhibit my gift occasionally as they did theirs, promising that the money that was got by the exhibitions should be honestly divided. i consented, and we set off together, and that evening coming to a village, and putting up at the alehouse, all the grand folks of the village being there smoking their pipes, we contrived to introduce the subject of hopping--the upshot being that ned hopped against the schoolmaster for a pound, and beat him hollow; shortly after, giles, for a wager, took up the kitchen table in his jaws, though he had to pay a shilling to the landlady for the marks he left, whose grandchildren will perhaps get money by exhibiting them. as for myself, i did nothing that day, but the next, on which my companions did nothing, i showed off at hulling stones against a cripple, the crack man for stone throwing, of a small town, a few miles farther on. bets were made to the tune of some pounds, i contrived to beat the cripple, and just contrived; for to do him justice, i must acknowledge he was a first-rate hand at stones, though he had a game hip, and went sideways; his head, when he walked--if his movements could be called walking--not being above three feet above the ground. so we travelled, i and my companions, showing off our gifts, giles and i occasionally for a gathering, but ned never hopping unless against somebody for a wager. we lived honestly and comfortably, making no little money by our natural endowments, and were known over a great part of england as 'hopping ned,' 'biting giles,' and 'hull over the head jack,' which was my name, it being the blackguard fashion of the english, do you see, to--' here i interrupted the jockey. 'you may call it a blackguard fashion,' said i, 'and i dare say it is, or it would scarcely be english; but it is an immensely ancient one, and is handed down to us from our northern ancestry, especially the danes, who were in the habit of giving people surnames, or rather nicknames, from some quality of body or mind, but generally from some disadvantageous peculiarity of feature; for there is no denying that the english, norse, or whatever we may please to call them, are an envious, depreciatory set of people, who not only give their poor comrades contemptuous surnames, but their great people also. they didn't call you the matchless hurler, because, by doing so, they would have paid you a compliment, but hull over the head jack, as much as to say that after all you were a scrub: so, in ancient time, instead of calling regner the great conqueror, the nation tamer, they surnamed him lodbrog, which signifies rough or hairy breeks--lod or loddin signifying rough or hairy; and instead of complimenting halgerdr, the wife of gunnar of hlitharend, the great champion of iceland, upon her majestic presence, by calling her halgerdr, the stately or tall, what must they do but term her ha-brokr, or high-breeks, it being the fashion in old times for northern ladies to wear breeks, or breeches, which english ladies of the present day never think of doing; and just, as of old, they called halgerdr longbreeks, so this very day a fellow of horncastle called, in my hearing, our noble-looking hungarian friend here, long-stockings. oh, i could give you a hundred instances, both ancient and modern, of this unseemly propensity of our illustrious race, though i will only trouble you with a few more ancient ones; they not only nicknamed regner, but his sons also, who were all kings, and distinguished men; one, whose name was biorn, they nicknamed ironsides; another, sigurd, snake in the eye; another, white sark, or white shirt--i wonder they did not tall him dirty shirt; and ivarr, another, who was king of northumberland, they called beinlausi, or the legless, because he was spindle-shanked, had no sap in his bones, and consequently no children. he was a great king, it is true, and very wise, nevertheless his blackguard countrymen, always averse, as their descendants are, to give credit to anybody, for any valuable quality or possession, must needs lay hold, do you see--' but before i could say any more, the jockey, having laid down his pipe, rose, and having taken off his coat, advanced towards me. * * * * * i informed the landlord that he was right in supposing that i came for the horse, but that, before i paid for him, i should wish to prove his capabilities. 'with all my heart,' said the landlord. 'you shall mount him this moment.' then going into the stable, he saddled and bridled the horse, and presently brought him out before the door. i mounted him, mr. petulengro putting a heavy whip into my hand, and saying a few words to me in his own mysterious language. 'the horse wants no whip,' said the landlord. 'hold your tongue, daddy,' said mr. petulengro, 'my pal knows quite well what to do with the whip, he's not going to beat the horse with it.' about four hundred yards from the house there was a hill, to the foot of which the road ran almost on a perfect level; towards the foot of this hill, i trotted the horse, who set off at a long, swift pace, seemingly at the rate of about sixteen miles an hour. on reaching the foot of the hill, i wheeled the animal found, and trotted him towards the house--the horse sped faster than before. ere he had advanced a hundred yards, i took off my hat, in obedience to the advice which mr. petulengro had given me, in his own language, and holding it over the horse's head, commenced drumming on the crown with the knob of the whip; the horse gave a slight start, but instantly recovering himself, continued his trot till he arrived at the door of the public-house, amidst the acclamations of the company, who had all rushed out of the house to be spectators of what was going on. 'i see now what you wanted the whip for,' said the landlord, 'and sure enough, that drumming on your hat was no bad way of learning whether the horse was quiet or not. well, did you ever see a more quiet horse, or a better trotter?' 'my cob shall trot against him,' said a fellow, dressed in velveteen, mounted on a low powerful-looking animal. 'my cob shall trot against him to the hill and back again--come on!' we both started; the cob kept up gallantly against the horse for about half the way to the hill, when he began to lose ground; at the foot of the hill he was about fifteen yards behind. whereupon i turned slowly and waited for him. we then set off towards the house, but now the cob had no chance, being at least twenty yards behind when i reached the door. this running of horses, the wild uncouth forms around me, and the ale and beer which were being guzzled from pots and flagons, put me wonderfully in mind of the ancient horse-races of the heathen north. i almost imagined myself gunnar of hlitharend at the race of ---. 'are you satisfied?' said the landlord. 'didn't you tell me that he could leap?' i demanded. 'i am told he can,' said the landlord; 'but i can't consent that he should be tried in that way, as he might be damaged.' 'that's right!' said mr. petulengro, 'don't trust my pal to leap that horse, he'll merely fling him down, and break his neck and his own. there's a better man than he close by; let him get on his back and leap him.' 'you mean yourself, i suppose,' said the landlord. 'well, i call that talking modestly, and nothing becomes a young man more than modesty.' 'it a'n't i, daddy,' said mr. petulengro. 'here's the man,' said he, pointing to tawno. 'here's the horse-leaper of the world!' 'you mean the horse-back breaker,' said the landlord. 'that big fellow would break down my cousin's horse.' 'why, he weighs only sixteen stone,' said mr. petulengro. 'and his sixteen stone, with his way of handling a horse, does not press so much as any other one's thirteen. only let him get on the horse's back, and you'll see what he can do!' 'no,' said the landlord, 'it won't do.' whereupon mr. petulengro became very much excited, and pulling out a handful of money, said: 'i'll tell you what, i'll forfeit these guineas, if my black pal there does the horse any kind of damage; duck me in the horse-pond if i don't.' 'well,' said the landlord, 'for the sport of the thing i consent, so let your white pal get down, and your black pal mount as soon as he pleases.' i felt rather mortified at mr. petulengro's interference, and showed no disposition to quit my seat; whereupon he came up to me and said: 'now, brother, do get out of the saddle--you are no bad hand at trotting, i am willing to acknowledge that; but at leaping a horse there is no one like tawno. let every dog be praised for his own gift. you have been showing off in your line for the last half-hour; now do give tawno a chance of exhibiting a little; poor fellow, he hasn't often a chance of exhibiting, as his wife keeps him so much in sight.' not wishing to appear desirous of engrossing the public attention, and feeling rather desirous to see how tawno, of whose exploits in leaping horses i had frequently heard, would acquit himself in the affair, i at length dismounted, and tawno, at a bound, leaped into the saddle, where he really looked like gunnar of hlitharend, save and except the complexion of gunnar was florid, whereas that of tawno was of nearly mulatto darkness; and that all tawno's features were cast in the grecian model, whereas gunnar had a snub nose. 'there's a leaping-bar behind the house,' said the landlord. 'leaping- bar!' said mr. petulengro scornfully. 'do you think my black pal ever rides at a leaping-bar? no more than at a windle-straw. leap over that meadow wall, tawno.' just past the house, in the direction in which i had been trotting, was a wall about four feet high, beyond which was a small meadow. tawno rode the horse gently up to the wall, permitted him to look over, then backed him for about ten yards, and pressing his calves against the horse's sides, he loosed the rein, and the horse launching forward, took the leap in gallant style. 'well done, man and horse!' said mr. petulengro; 'now come back, tawno.' the leap from the side of the meadow was, however, somewhat higher; and the horse, when pushed at it, at first turned away; whereupon tawno backed him to a greater distance, pushed the horse to a full gallop, giving a wild cry; whereupon the horse again took the wall, slightly grazing one of his legs against it. 'a near thing,' said the landlord, 'but a good leap. now, no more leaping, so long as i have control over the animal.' the horse was then led back to the stable; and the landlord, myself and companions going into the bar, i paid down the money for the horse. * * * * * 'when you are a gentleman,' said he, after a pause, 'the first thing you must think about is to provide yourself with a good horse for your own particular riding; you will perhaps keep a coach and pair, but they will be less your own than your lady's, should you have one, and your young gentry, should you have any; or, if you have neither, for madam, your housekeeper, and the upper female servants, so you need trouble your head less about them, though, of course, you would not like to pay away your money for screws; but be sure you get a good horse for your own riding; and that you may have a good chance of having a good one, buy one that's young and has plenty of belly--a little more than the one has which you now have, though you are not yet a gentleman; you will, of course, look to his head, his withers, legs and other points, but never buy a horse at any price that has not plenty of belly; no horse that has not belly is ever a good feeder, and a horse that a'n't a good feeder, can't be a good horse; never buy a horse that is drawn up in the belly behind; a horse of that description can't feed, and can never carry sixteen stone. 'when you have got such a horse be proud of it--as i dare say you are of the one you have now--and wherever you go swear there a'n't another to match it in the country, and if anybody gives you the lie, take him by the nose and tweak it off, just as you would do if anybody were to speak ill of your lady, or, for want of her, of your housekeeper. take care of your horse, as you would of the apple of your eye--i am sure i would if i were a gentleman, which i don't ever expect to be, and hardly wish, seeing as how i am sixty-nine, and am rather too old to ride--yes, cherish and take care of your horse as perhaps the best friend you have in the world; for, after all, who will carry you through thick and thin as your horse will? not your gentlemen friends, i warrant, nor your housekeeper, nor your upper servants, male or female; perhaps your lady would, that is, if she is a whopper, and one of the right sort; the others would be more likely to take up mud and pelt you with it, provided they saw you in trouble, than to help you. so take care of your horse, and feed him every day with your own hands; give him three-quarters of a peck of corn each day, mixed up with a little hay-chaff, and allow him besides one hundredweight of hay in the course of a week; some say that the hay should be hardland hay, because it is wholesomest, but i say, let it be clover hay, because the horse likes it best; give him through summer and winter, once a week, a pailful of bran mash, cold in summer and in winter hot; ride him gently about the neighbourhood every day, by which means you will give exercise to yourself and horse, and, moreover, have the satisfaction of exhibiting yourself and your horse to advantage, and hearing, perhaps, the men say what a fine horse, and the ladies saying what a fine man: never let your groom mount your horse, as it is ten to one, if you do, your groom will be wishing to show off before company, and will fling your horse down. i was groom to a gemman before i went to the inn at hounslow, and flung him a horse down worth ninety guineas, by endeavouring to show off before some ladies that i met on the road. turn your horse out to grass throughout may and the first part of june, for then the grass is sweetest, and the flies don't sting so bad as they do later in summer; afterwards merely turn him out occasionally in the swale of the morn and the evening; after september the grass is good for little, lash and sour at best; every horse should go out to grass, if not his blood becomes full of greasy humours, and his wind is apt to become affected, but he ought to be kept as much as possible from the heat and flies, always got up at night, and never turned out late in the year--lord! if i had always such a nice attentive person to listen to me as you are, i could go on talking about 'orses to the end of time.' * * * * * i was bidding him farewell, when he hemmed once or twice, and said, that as he did not live far off, he hoped that i would go with him and taste some of his mead. as i had never tasted mead, of which i had frequently read in the compositions of the welsh bards, and, moreover, felt rather thirsty from the heat of the day, i told him that i should have great pleasure in attending him. whereupon, turning off together, we proceeded about half a mile, sometimes between stone walls, and at other times hedges, till we reached a small hamlet, through which we passed, and presently came to a very pretty cottage, delightfully situated within a garden, surrounded by a hedge of woodbines. opening a gate at one corner of the garden he led the way to a large shed, which stood partly behind the cottage, which he said was his stable; thereupon he dismounted and led his donkey into the shed, which was without stalls, but had a long rack and manger. on one side he tied his donkey, after taking off her caparisons, and i followed his example, tying my horse at the other side with a rope halter which he gave me; he then asked me to come in and taste his mead, but i told him that i must attend to the comfort of my horse first, and forthwith, taking a wisp of straw, rubbed him carefully down. then taking a pailful of clear water which stood in the shed, i allowed the horse to drink about half a pint; and then turning to the old man, who all the time had stood by looking at my proceedings, i asked him whether he had any oats? 'i have all kinds of grain,' he replied; and, going out, he presently returned with two measures, one a large and the other a small one, both filled with oats, mixed with a few beans, and handing the large one to me for the horse, he emptied the other before the donkey, who, before she began to despatch it turned her nose to her master's face, and fairly kissed him. having given my horse his portion, i told the old man that i was ready to taste his mead as soon as he pleased, whereupon he ushered me into his cottage, where, making me sit down by a deal table in a neatly sanded kitchen, he produced from an old- fashioned closet a bottle, holding about a quart, and a couple of cups, which might each contain about half a pint, then opening the bottle and filling the cups with a brown-coloured liquor, he handed one to me, and taking a seat opposite to me he lifted the other, nodded, and saying to me: 'health and welcome,' placed it to his lips and drank. * * * * * at the dead hour of night, it might be about two, i was awakened from sleep by a cry which sounded from the room immediately below that in which i slept. i knew the cry, it was the cry of my mother, and i also knew its import; yet i made no effort to rise, for i was for the moment paralysed. again the cry sounded, yet still i lay motionless--the stupidity of horror was upon me. a third time, and it was then that, by a violent effort bursting the spell which appeared to bind me, i sprang from the bed and rushed downstairs. my mother was running wildly about the room; she had awoke and found my father senseless in the bed by her side. i essayed to raise him, and after a few efforts supported him in the bed in a sitting posture. my brother now rushed in, and snatching up a light that was burning, he held it to my father's face. 'the surgeon, the surgeon!' he cried; then dropping the light, he ran out of the room followed by my mother; i remained alone, supporting the senseless form of my father; the light had been extinguished by the fall, and an almost total darkness reigned in the room. the form pressed heavily against my bosom--at last methought it moved. yes, i was light, there was a heaving of the breast, and then a gasping. were those words which i heard? yes, they were words, low and indistinct at first, and then audible. the mind of the dying man was reverting to former scenes. i heard him mention names which i had often heard him mention before. it was an awful moment; i felt stupefied, but i still contrived to support my dying father. there was a pause, again my father spoke: i heard him speak of minden, and of meredith, the old minden sergeant, and then he uttered another name, which at one period of his life was much on his lips, the name of --- but this is a solemn moment! there was a deep gasp: i shook, and thought all was over; but i was mistaken--my father moved and revived for a moment; he supported himself in bed without my assistance. i make no doubt that for a moment he was perfectly sensible, and it was then that, clasping his hands, he uttered another name clearly, distinctly--it was the name of christ. with that name upon his lips, the brave old soldier sank back upon my bosom, and, with his hands still clasped yielded up his soul. * * * * * i should say that i scarcely walked less than thirty miles about the big city on the day of my first arrival. night came on, but still i was walking about, my eyes wide open, and admiring everything that presented itself to them. everything was new to me, for everything is different in london from what it is elsewhere--the people, their language, the horses, the tout ensemble--even the stones of london are different from others--at least it appeared to me that i had never walked with the same ease and facility on the flag stones of a country town as on those of london; so i continued roving about till night came on, and then the splendour of some of the shops particularly struck me. 'a regular arabian nights' entertainment!' said i, as i looked into one on cornhill, gorgeous with precious merchandise, and lighted up with lustres, the rays of which were reflected from a hundred mirrors. but, notwithstanding the excellence of the london pavement, i began about nine o'clock to feel myself thoroughly tired; painfully and slowly did i drag my feet along. i also felt very much in want of some refreshment, and i remembered that since breakfast i had taken nothing. i was now in the strand, and, glancing about, i perceived that i was close by an hotel, which bore over the door the somewhat remarkable name of holy lands. without a moment's hesitation i entered a well-lighted passage, and turning to the left, i found myself in a well-lighted coffee-room, with a well-dressed and frizzled waiter before me. 'bring me some claret,' said i, for i was rather faint than hungry, and i felt ashamed to give a humbler order to so well-dressed an individual. the waiter looked at me for a moment; then, making a low bow, he bustled off, and i sat myself down in the box nearest to the window. presently the waiter returned, bearing beneath his left arm a long bottle, and between the fingers of his right hand two large purple glasses; placing the latter on the table, he produced a cork-screw, drew the cork in a twinkling, set the bottle down before me with a bang, and then, standing still, appeared to watch my movements. you think i don't know how to drink a glass of claret, thought i to myself. i'll soon show you how we drink claret where i come from; and filling one of the glasses to the brim, i flickered it for a moment between my eyes and the lustre, and then held it to my nose; having given that organ full time to test the bouquet of the wine, i applied the glass to my lips, taking a large mouthful of the wine, which i swallowed slowly and by degrees, that the palate might likewise have an opportunity of performing its functions. a second mouthful i disposed of more summarily; then, placing the empty glass upon the table, i fixed my eyes upon the bottle, and said--nothing; whereupon the waiter, who had been observing the whole process with considerable attention, made me a bow yet more low than before, and turning on his heel, retired with a smart chuck of his head, as much as to say, it is all right; the young man is used to claret. * * * * * to the generality of mankind there is no period like youth. the generality are far from fortunate; but the period of youth, even to the least so, offers moments of considerable happiness, for they are not only disposed, but able to enjoy most things within their reach. with what trifles at that period are we content; the things from which in after- life we should turn away in disdain please us then, for we are in the midst of a golden cloud, and everything seems decked with a golden hue. never during any portion of my life did time flow on more speedily than during the two or three years immediately succeeding the period to which we arrived in the preceding chapter. since then it has flagged often enough; sometimes it has seemed to stand entirely still; and the reader may easily judge how it fares at the present, from the circumstance of my taking pen in hand, and endeavouring to write down the passages of my life--a last resource with most people. but at the period to which i allude i was just, as i may say, entering upon life; i had adopted a profession, and--to keep up my character, simultaneously with that profession--the study of a new language; i speedily became a proficient in the one, but ever remained a novice in the other: a novice in the law, but a perfect master in the welsh tongue. yes! very pleasant times were those, when within the womb of a lofty deal desk, behind which i sat for some eight hours every day, transcribing (when i imagined eyes were upon me) documents of every description in every possible hand, blackstone kept company with ab gwilym--the polished english lawyer of the last century, who wrote long and prosy chapters on the rights of things--with a certain wild welshman, who some four hundred years before that time indited immortal cowydds and odes to the wives of cambrian chieftains--more particularly to one morfydd, the wife of a certain hunchbacked dignitary called by the poet facetiously bwa bach--generally terminating with the modest request of a little private parlance beneath the green wood bough, with no other witness than the eos, or nightingale, a request which, if the poet himself may be believed--rather a doubtful point--was seldom, very seldom, denied. * * * * * i cannot help thinking that it was fortunate for myself, who am, to a certain extent, a philologist, that with me the pursuit of languages has been always modified by the love of horses; for scarcely had i turned my mind to the former, when i also mounted the wild cob, and hurried forth in the direction of the devil's hill, scattering dust and flint-stones on every side; that ride, amongst other things, taught me that a lad with thews and sinews was intended by nature for something better than mere word-culling; and if i have accomplished anything in after life worthy of mentioning, i believe it may partly be attributed to the ideas which that ride, by setting my blood in a glow, infused into my brain. i might, otherwise, have become a mere philologist; one of those beings who toil night and day in culling useless words for some opus magnum which murray will never publish, and nobody ever read--beings without enthusiasm, who, having never mounted a generous steed, cannot detect a good point in pegasus himself; like a certain philologist, who, though acquainted with the exact value of every word in the greek and latin languages, could observe no particular beauty in one of the most glorious of homer's rhapsodies. what knew he of pegasus? he had never mounted a generous steed; the merest jockey, had the strain been interpreted to him, would have called it a brave song!--i return to the brave cob. * * * * * 'o cheapside! cheapside!' said i, as i advanced up that mighty thoroughfare, 'truly thou art a wonderful place for hurry, noise and riches! men talk of the bazaars of the east--i have never seen them, but i dare say that, compared with thee, they are poor places, silent places, abounding with empty boxes. o thou pride of london's east!--mighty mart of old renown!--for thou art not a place of yesterday: long before the roses red and white battled in fair england, thou didst exist--a place of throng and bustle--a place of gold and silver, perfumes and fine linen. centuries ago thou couldst extort the praises even of the fiercest foes of england. fierce bards of wales, sworn foes of england, sang thy praises centuries ago; and even the fiercest of them all, red julius himself, wild glendower's bard, had a word of praise for london's "cheape," for so the bards of wales styled thee in their flowing odes. then, if those who were not english, and hated england, and all connected therewith, had yet much to say in thy praise, when thou wast far inferior to what thou art now, why should true-born englishmen, or those who call themselves so, turn up their noses at thee, and scoff thee at the present day, as i believe they do? but, let others do as they will, i, at least, who am not only an englishman, but an east englishman, will not turn up my nose at thee, but will praise and extol thee, calling thee mart of the world--a place of wonder and astonishment!--and, were it right and fitting to wish that anything should endure for ever, i would say prosperity to cheapside, throughout all ages--may it be the world's resort for merchandise, world without end. * * * * * oh, that ride! that first ride!--most truly it was an epoch in my existence; and i still look back to it with feelings of longing and regret. people may talk of first love--it is a very agreeable event, i dare say--but give me the flush, and triumph, and glorious sweat of a first ride, like mine on the mighty cob! my whole frame was shaken, it is true; and during one long week i could hardly move foot or hand; but what of that? by that one trial i had become free, as i may say, of the whole equine species. no more fatigue, no more stiffness of joints, after that first ride round the devil's hill on the cob. oh, that cob! that irish cob!--may the sod lie lightly over the bones of the strongest, speediest, and most gallant of its kind! oh! the days when, issuing from the barrack-gate of templemore, we commenced our hurry- skurry just as inclination led--now across the fields--direct over stone walls and running brooks--mere pastime for the cob!--sometimes along the road to thurles and holy cross, even to distant cahir!--what was distance to the cob? it was thus that the passion for the equine race was first awakened within me--a passion which, up to the present time, has been rather on the increase than diminishing. it is no blind passion; the horse being a noble and generous creature, intended by the all-wise to be the helper and friend of man, to whom he stands next in the order of creation. on many occasions of my life i have been much indebted to the horse, and have found in him a friend and coadjutor, when human help and sympathy were not to be obtained. it is therefore natural enough that i should love the horse; but the love which i entertain for him has always been blended with respect; for i soon perceived that, though disposed to be the friend and helper of man, he is by no means inclined to be his slave; in which respect he differs from the dog, who will crouch when beaten; whereas the horse spurns, for he is aware of his own worth, and that he carries death within the horn of his heel. if, therefore, i found it easy to love the horse, i found it equally natural to respect him. * * * * * of one thing i am certain, that the reader must be much delighted with the wholesome smell of the stable, with which many of these pages are redolent; what a contrast to the sickly odours exhaled from those of some of my contemporaries, especially of those who pretend to be of the highly fashionable class, and who treat of reception-rooms, well may they be styled so, in which dukes, duchesses, earls, countesses, archbishops, bishops, mayors, mayoresses--not forgetting the writers themselves, both male and female--congregate and press upon one another; how cheering, how refreshing, after having been nearly knocked down with such an atmosphere, to come in contact with genuine stable hartshorn. * * * * * my curiosity had led me to a most extraordinary place, which quite beggars the scanty powers of description with which i am gifted. i stumbled on amongst ruined walls, and at one time found i was treading over vaults, as i suddenly started back from a yawning orifice, into which my next step as i strolled musing along, would have precipitated me. i proceeded for a considerable way by the eastern wall, till i heard a tremendous bark, and presently an immense dog, such as those which guard the flocks in the neighbourhood against the wolves, came bounding to attack me 'with eyes that glowed, and fangs that grinned.' had i retreated, or had recourse to any other mode of defence than that which i invariably practise under such circumstances, he would probably have worried me; but i stooped till my chin nearly touched my knee, and looked him full in the eyes, and, as john leyden says, in the noblest ballad which the land of heather has produced: 'the hound lie yowled, and back he fled, as struck with fairy charm.' it is a fact known to many people, and i believe it has been frequently stated, that no large and fierce dog or animal of any kind, with the exception of the bull, which shuts its eyes and rushes blindly forward, will venture to attack an individual who confronts it with a firm and motionless countenance. i say large and fierce, for it is much easier to repel a bloodhound or bear of finland in this manner than a dung-hill cur or a terrier, against which a stick or a stone is a much more certain defence. this will astonish no one who considers that the calm reproving glance of reason, which allays the excesses of the mighty and courageous in our own species, has seldom any other effect than to add to the insolence of the feeble and foolish, who become placid as doves upon the infliction of chastisements which, if attempted to be applied to the former, would only serve to render them more terrible, and, like gunpowder cast on a flame, cause them, in mad desperation, to scatter destruction around them. * * * * * the morning of the fifth of november looked rather threatening. as, however, it did not rain, i determined to set off for plynlimmon, and, returning at night to the inn, resume my journey to the south on the following day. on looking into a pocket almanac i found it was sunday. this very much disconcerted me, and i thought at first of giving up my expedition. eventually, however, i determined to go, for i reflected that i should be doing no harm, and that i might acknowledge the sacredness of the day by attending morning service at the little church of england chapel which lay in my way. the mountain of plynlimmon to which i was bound is the third in wales for altitude, being only inferior to snowdon and cadair idris. its proper name is pum, or pump, lumon, signifying the five points, because towards the upper part it is divided into five hills or points. plynlimmon is a celebrated hill on many accounts. it has been the scene of many remarkable events. in the tenth century a dreadful battle was fought on one of its spurs between the danes and the welsh, in which the former sustained a bloody overthrow; and in a conflict took place in one of its valleys between the welsh, under glendower, and the flemings, of pembrokeshire, who, exasperated at having their homesteads plundered and burned by the chieftain who was the mortal enemy of their race, assembled in considerable numbers and drove glendower and his forces before them to plynlimmon, where, the welshmen standing at bay, a contest ensued, in which, though eventually worsted, the flemings were at one time all but victorious. what, however, has more than anything else contributed to the celebrity of the hill is the circumstance of its giving birth to three rivers, the first of which, the severn, is the principal stream in britain; the second, the wye, the most lovely river, probably, which the world can boast of; and the third, the rheidol, entitled to high honour from its boldness and impetuosity, and the remarkable banks between which it flows in its very short course, for there are scarcely twenty miles between the ffynnon or source of the rheidol and the aber or place where it disembogues itself into the sea. * * * * * 'good are the horses of the moslems,' said my old friend; 'where will you find such? they will descend rocky mountains at full speed and neither trip nor fall; but you must be cautious with the horses of the moslems, and treat them with kindness, for the horses of the moslems are proud, and they like not being slaves. when they are young, and first mounted, jerk not their mouths with your bit, for be sure if you do they will kill you; sooner or later, you will perish beneath their feet. good are our horses, and good our riders, yea, very good are the moslems at mounting the horse; who are like them? i once saw a frank rider compete with a moslem on this beach, and at first the frank rider had it all his own way, and he passed the moslem, but the course was long, very long, and the horse of the frank rider, which was a frank also, panted; but the horse of the moslem panted not, for he was a moslem also, and the moslem rider at last gave a cry and the horse sprang forward and he overtook the frank horse, and then the moslem rider stood up in his saddle. how did he stand? truly he stood on his head, and these eyes saw him; he stood on his head in the saddle as he passed the frank rider; and he cried ha! ha! as he passed the frank rider; and the moslem horse cried ha! ha! as he passed the frank breed, and the frank lost by a far distance. good are the franks; good their horses; but better are the moslems, and better are the horses of the moslems.' * * * * * 'the burra,' [donkey], i replied, 'appears both savage and vicious.' 'she is both, brother, and on that account i bought her; a savage and vicious beast has generally four excellent legs.' * * * * * i was standing on the castle hill in the midst of a fair of horses. i have already had occasion to mention this castle. it is the remains of what was once a norman stronghold, and is perched upon a round mound or monticle, in the midst of the old city. steep is this mound and scarped, evidently by the hand of man; a deep gorge, over which is flung a bridge, separates it, on the south, from a broad swell of open ground called 'the hill;' of old the scene of many a tournament and feat of norman chivalry, but now much used as a show-place for cattle, where those who buy and sell beeves and other beasts resort at stated periods. so it came to pass that i stood upon this hill, observing a fair of horses. the reader is already aware that i had long since conceived a passion for the equine race, a passion in which circumstances had of late not permitted me to indulge. i had no horses to ride, but i took pleasure in looking at them; and i had already attended more than one of these fairs: the present was lively enough, indeed, horse fairs are seldom dull. there was shouting and whooping, neighing and braying; there was galloping and trotting; fellows with highlows and white stockings, and with many a string dangling from the knees of their tight breeches, were running desperately, holding horses by the halter, and in some cases dragging them along; there were long-tailed steeds, and dock-tailed steeds of every degree and breed; there were droves of wild ponies, and long rows of sober cart horses; there were donkeys and even mules: the last rare things to be seen in damp, misty england, for the mule pines in mud and rain, and thrives best with a hot sun above and a burning sand below. there were--oh, the gallant creatures! i hear their neigh upon the wind; there were--goodliest sight of all--certain enormous quadrupeds only seen to perfection in our native isle, led about by dapper grooms, their manes ribanded and their tails curiously clubbed and balled. ha! ha!--how distinctly do they say, ha! ha! an old man draws nigh, he is mounted on a lean pony, and he leads by the bridle one of these animals; nothing very remarkable about that creature, unless in being smaller than the rest and gentle, which they are not; he is not of the sightliest look; he is almost dun, and over one eye a thick film has gathered. but stay! there is something remarkable about that horse, there is something in his action in which he differs from the rest. as he advances, the clamour is hushed! all eyes are turned upon him--what looks of interest--of respect--and, what is this? people are taking off their hats--surely not to that steed! yes, verily! men, especially old men, are taking off their hats to that one-eyed steed, and i hear more than one deep-drawn ah! 'what horse is that?' said i to a very old fellow, the counterpart of the old man on the pony, save that the last wore a faded suit of velveteen, and this one was dressed in a white frock. 'the best in mother england,' said the very old man, taking a knobbed stick from his mouth, and looking me in the face, at first carelessly, but presently with something like interest; 'he is old, like myself, but can still trot his twenty miles an hour. you won't live long, my swain; tall and overgrown ones like thee never does; yet, if you should chance to reach my years, you may boast to thy great grand boys, thou hast seen marshland shales.' amain i did for the horse what i would neither do for earl or baron, doffed my hat; yes! i doffed my hat to the wondrous horse, the fast trotter, the best in mother england; and i, too, drew a deep ah! and repeated the words of the old fellows around. 'such a horse as this we shall never see again; a pity that he is so old!' * * * * * in spain i passed five years, which, if not the most eventful, were, i have no hesitation in saying, the most happy years of my existence. of spain at the present time, now that the day-dream has vanished never, alas! to return, i entertain the warmest admiration: she is the most magnificent country in the world, probably the most fertile, and certainly with the finest climate. whether her children are worthy of their mother, is another question, which i shall not attempt to answer; but content myself with observing that, amongst much that is lamentable and reprehensible, i have found much that is noble and to be admired: much stern heroic virtue; much savage and horrible crime; of low vulgar vice very little, at least amongst the great body of the spanish nation, with which my mission lay; for it will be as well here to observe that i advance no claim to an intimate acquaintance with the spanish nobility, from whom i kept as remote as circumstances would permit me; en revanche, however, i have had the honour to live on familiar terms with the peasants, shepherds, and muleteers of spain, whose bread and bacallao i have eaten; who always treated me with kindness and courtesy, and to whom i have not unfrequently been indebted for shelter and protection. 'the generous bearing of francisco gonzales, and the high deeds of ruy diaz the cid, are still sung amongst the fastnesses of the sierra morena.' i believe that no stronger argument can be brought forward in proof of the natural vigour and resources of spain, and the sterling character of her population, than the fact that, at the present day, she is still a powerful and unexhausted country, and her children still, to a certain extent, a high-minded and great people. yes, notwithstanding the misrule of the brutal and sensual austrian, the doting bourbon, and, above all, the spiritual tyranny of the court of rome, spain can still maintain her own, fight her own combat, and spaniards are not yet fanatic slaves and crouching beggars. this is saying much, very much: she has undergone far more than naples had ever to bear, and yet the fate of naples has not been hers. there is still valour in asturia, generosity in aragon, probity in old castile, and the peasant women of la mancha can still afford to place a silver fork and a showy napkin beside the plate of their guest. yes, in spite of austrian, bourbon, and rome, there is still a wide gulf between spain and naples. strange as it may sound, spain is not a fanatic country. i know something about her, and declare that she is not, nor has ever been: spain never changes. it is true that, for nearly two centuries, she was the she-butcher, la verduga, of malignant rome; the chosen instrument for carrying into effect the atrocious projects of that power; yet fanaticism was not the spring which impelled her to the work of butchery: another feeling, in her the predominant one, was worked upon--her fatal pride. it was by humouring her pride that she was induced to waste her precious blood and treasure in the low country wars, to launch the armada, and to many other equally insane actions. love of rome had ever slight influence over her policy; but, flattered by the title of gonfaloniera of the vicar of jesus, and eager to prove herself not unworthy of the same, she shut her eyes, and rushed upon her own destruction with the cry of 'charge, spain!' * * * * * on the afternoon of the th of december i set out for evora, accompanied by my servant. i had been informed that the tide would serve for the regular passage-boats, or felouks, as they are called, at about four o'clock; but on reaching the side of the tagus opposite to aldea gallega, between which place and lisbon the boats ply, i found that the tide would not permit them to start before eight o'clock. had i waited for them i should have probably landed at aldea gallega about midnight, and i felt little inclination to make my entree in the alemtejo at that hour; therefore, as i saw small boats which can push off at any time lying near in abundance, i determined upon hiring one of them for the passage, though the expense would be thus considerably increased. i soon agreed with a wild-looking lad, who told me that he was in part owner of one of the boats, to take me over. i was not aware of the danger in crossing the tagus at its broadest part, which is opposite aldea gallega, at any time, but especially at close of day in the winter season, or i should certainly not have ventured. the lad and his comrade, a miserable-looking object, whose only clothing, notwithstanding the season, was a tattered jerkin and trousers, rowed until we had advanced about half a mile from the land; they then set up a large sail, and the lad, who seemed to direct everything, and to be the principal, took the helm and steered. the evening was now setting in; the sun was not far from its bourne in the horizon; the air was very cold, the wind was rising, and the waves of the noble tagus began to be crested with foam. i told the boy that it was scarcely possible for the boat to carry so much sail without upsetting, upon which he laughed, and began to gabble in a most incoherent manner. he had the most harsh and rapid articulation that has ever come under my observation in any human being; it was the scream of the hyena blended with the bark of the terrier, though it was by no means an index of his disposition, which i soon found to be light, merry, and anything but malevolent; for when i, in order to show him that i cared little about him, began to hum 'eu que sou contrabandista,' { a} he laughed heartily, and said, clapping me on the shoulder, that he would not drown us if he could help it. the other poor fellow seemed by no means averse to go to the bottom: he sat at the fore part of the boat, looking the image of famine, and only smiled when the waters broke over the weather side and soaked his scanty habiliments. in a little time i had made up my mind that our last hour was come; the wind was getting higher, the short dangerous waves were more foamy, the boat was frequently on its beam, and the water came over the lee side in torrents. but still the wild lad at the helm held on, laughing and chattering, and occasionally yelling out part of the miguelite air, 'quando el rey chegou,' { b} the singing of which in lisbon is imprisonment. the stream was against us, but the wind was in our favour, and we sprang along at a wonderful rate, and i saw that our only chance of escape was in speedily passing the farther bank of the tagus, where the bight or bay at the extremity of which stands aldea gallega commences, for we should not then have to battle with the waves of the stream, which the adverse wind lashed into fury. it was the will of the almighty to permit us speedily to gain this shelter, but not before the boat was nearly filled with water, and we were all wet to the skin. at about seven o'clock in the evening we reached aldea gallega, shivering with cold and in a most deplorable plight. * * * * * i know of few things in this life more delicious than a ride in the spring or summer season in the neighbourhood of seville. my favourite one was in the direction of xeres, over the wide dehesa, as it is called, which extends from seville to the gates of the former town, a distance of nearly fifty miles, with scarcely a town or village intervening. the ground is irregular and broken, and is for the most part covered with that species of brushwood called carrasco, amongst which winds a bridle- path, by no means well defined, chiefly trodden by the arrieros, with their long trains of mules and borricos. it is here that the balmy air of beautiful andalusia is to be inhaled in full perfection. aromatic herbs and flowers are growing in abundance, diffusing their perfume around. here dark and gloomy cares are dispelled as if by magic from the bosom, as the eyes wander over the prospect, lighted by unequalled sunshine, in which gaily painted butterflies wanton, and green and golden salamanquesas lie extended, enjoying the luxurious warmth, and occasionally startling the traveller, by springing up and making off with portentous speed to the nearest coverts, whence they stare upon him with their sharp and lustrous eyes. i repeat, that it is impossible to continue melancholy in regions like these, and the ancient greeks and romans were right in making them the site of their elysian fields. most beautiful they are, even in their present desolation, for the hand of man has not cultivated them since the fatal era of the expulsion of the moors, which drained andalusia of at least two-thirds of its population. every evening it was my custom to ride along the dehesa, until the topmost towers of seville were no longer in sight. i then turned about, and pressing my knees against the sides of sidi habismilk, my arabian, the fleet creature, to whom spur or lash had never been applied, would set off in the direction of the town with the speed of a whirlwind, seeming in his headlong course to devour the ground of the waste, until he had left it behind, then dashing through the elm-covered road of the delicias, his thundering hoofs were soon heard beneath the vaulted archway of the puerta de xeres and in another moment he would stand stone- still before the door of my solitary house in the little silent square of the pila seca. * * * * * it was not without reason that the latins gave the name of finis terrae to this district. we had arrived exactly at such a place as in my boyhood i had pictured to myself as the termination of the world, beyond which there was a wild sea, or abyss, or chaos. i now saw far before me an immense ocean, and below me a long and irregular line of lofty and precipitous coast. certainly in the whole world there is no bolder coast than the gallegan shore, from the debouchment of the minho to cape finisterre. it consists of a granite wall of savage mountains for the most part serrated at the top, and occasionally broken, where bays and firths like those of vigo and pontevedra intervene, running deep into the land. these bays and firths are invariably of an immense depth, and sufficiently capacious to shelter the navies of the proudest maritime nations. there is an air of stern and savage grandeur in everything around, which strongly captivates the imagination. this savage coast is the first glimpse of spain which the voyager from the north catches, or he who has ploughed his way across the wide atlantic: and well does it seem to realize all his visions of this strange land. 'yes,' he exclaims, 'this is indeed spain--stern, flinty spain--land emblematic of those spirits to which she has given birth. from what land but that before me could have proceeded those portentous beings who astounded the old world and filled the new with horror and blood? alva and philip, cortez and pizzaro--stern colossal spectres looming through the gloom of bygone years, like yonder granite mountains through the haze, upon the eye of the mariner. yes, yonder is indeed spain, flinty, indomitable spain, land emblematic of its sons!' as for myself, when i viewed that wide ocean and its savage shore, i cried, 'such is the grave, and such are its terrific sides, those moors and wilds, over which i have passed, are the rough and dreary journey of life. cheered with hope, we struggle along through all the difficulties of moor, bog, and mountain, to arrive at--what? the grave and its dreary sides. oh, may hope not desert us in the last hour--hope in the redeemer and in god!' * * * * * a propos of bull-fighters:--shortly after my arrival, i one day entered a low tavern in a neighbourhood notorious for robbery and murder, and in which for the last two hours i had been wandering on a voyage of discovery. i was fatigued, and required refreshment. i found the place thronged with people, who had all the appearance of ruffians. i saluted them, upon which they made way for me to the bar, taking off their sombreros with great ceremony. i emptied a glass of val de penas, and was about to pay for it and depart, when a horrible-looking fellow, dressed in a buff jerkin, leather breeches, and jackboots, which came halfway up his thighs, and having on his head a white hat, the rims of which were at least a yard and a half in circumference, pushed through the crowd, and confronting me, roared:-- 'otra copita! vamos inglesito: otra copita!' 'thank you, my good sir, you are very kind. you appear to know me, but i have not the honour of knowing you.' 'not know me!' replied the being. 'i am sevilla, the torero. i know you well; you are the friend of baltasarito, the national, who is a friend of mine, and a very good subject.' then turning to the company, he said in a sonorous tone, laying a strong emphasis on the last syllable of every word, according to the custom of the gente rufianesca throughout spain-- 'cavaliers, and strong men, this cavalier is the friend of a friend of mine. es mucho hombre. there is none like him in spain. he speaks the crabbed gitano, though he is an inglesito.' 'we do not believe it,' replied several grave voices. 'it is not possible.' 'it is not possible, say you? i tell you it is. come forward, balseiro, you who have been in prison all your life, and are always boasting that you can speak the crabbed gitano, though i say you know nothing of it--come forward and speak to his worship in the crabbed gitano.' a low, slight, but active figure stepped forward. he was in his shirt- sleeves, and wore a montero cap; his features were handsome but they were those of a demon. he spoke a few words in the broken gypsy slang of the prison, inquiring of me whether i had ever been in the condemned cell, and whether i knew what a gitana was. 'vamos inglesito,' shouted sevilla, in a voice of thunder; 'answer the monro in the crabbed gitano.' i answered the robber, for such he was, and one too whose name will live for many a year in the ruffian histories of madrid; i answered him in a speech of some length, in the dialect of the estremenian gypsies. 'i believe it is the crabbed gitano,' muttered balseiro. 'it is either that or english, for i understand not a word of it.' 'did i not say to you,' cried the bullfighter, 'that you knew nothing of the crabbed gitano? but this ingleisto does. i understood all he said. vaya, there is none like him for the crabbed gitano. he is a good ginete, too; next to myself, there is none like him, only he rides with stirrup leathers too short. inglesito, if you have need of money, i will lend you my purse. all i have is at your service, and that is not a little; i have just gained four thousand chules by the lottery. courage, englishman! another cup. i will pay all--i, sevilla!' and he clapped his hand repeatedly on his breast, reiterating, 'i, sevilla! i-- * * * * * 'the waiter drew the cork, and filled the glasses with a pinky liquor, which bubbled, hissed and foamed. 'how do you like it?' said the jockey, after i had imitated the example of my companions, by despatching my portion at a draught. 'it is wonderful wine,' said i; 'i have never tasted champagne before, though i have frequently heard it praised; it more than answers my expectations; but, i confess, i should not wish to be obliged to drink it every day.' 'nor i,' said the jockey, 'for everyday drinking give me a glass of old port, or--' 'of hard old ale,' i interposed, 'which, according to my mind, is better than all the wine in the world.' 'well said, romany rye,' said the jockey, 'just my own opinion; now, william, make yourself scarce.' * * * * * leaving the bridge, i ascended a gentle acclivity, and presently reached what appeared to be a tract of moory undulating ground. it was now tolerably light, but there was a mist or haze abroad which prevented my seeing objects with much precision. i felt chill in the damp air of the early morn, and walked rapidly forward. in about half an hour i arrived where the road divided into two at an angle or tongue of dark green sward. 'to the right or the left?' said i, and forthwith took, without knowing why, the left-hand road, along which i proceeded about a hundred yards, when, in the midst of the tongue of sward formed by the two roads, collaterally with myself, i perceived what i at first conceived to be a small grove of blighted trunks of oaks, barked and grey. i stood still for a moment, and then, turning off the road, advanced slowly towards it over the sward; as i drew nearer, i perceived that the objects which had attracted my curiosity, and which formed a kind of circle, were not trees, but immense upright stones. a thrill pervaded my system; just before me were two, the mightiest of the whole, tall as the stems of proud oaks, supporting on their tops a huge transverse stone, and forming a wonderful doorway. i knew now where i was, and, laying down my stick and bundle, and taking off my hat, i advanced slowly, and cast myself--it was folly, perhaps, but i could not help what i did--cast myself, with my face on the dewy earth, in the middle of the portal of giants, beneath the transverse stone. the spirit of stonehenge was strong upon me! * * * * * i went to belle's habitation, and informed her that mr. and mrs. petulengro had paid us a visit of ceremony, and were awaiting her at the fire-place. 'pray go and tell them that i am busy,' said belle, who was engaged with her needle. 'i do not feel disposed to take part in any such nonsense.' 'i shall do no such thing,' said i; 'and i insist upon your coming forthwith, and showing proper courtesy to your visitors. if you do not, their feelings will be hurt, and you are aware that i cannot bear that people's feelings should be outraged. come this moment, or--' 'or what?' said belle, half smiling. 'i was about to say something in armenian,' said i. 'well,' said belle, laying down her work, 'i will come.' 'stay,' said i, 'your hair is hanging about your ears, and your dress is in disorder; you had better stay a minute or two to prepare yourself to appear before your visitors, who have come in their very best attire.' 'no,' said belle, 'i will make no alteration in my appearance; you told me to come this moment, and you shall be obeyed.' so belle and i advanced towards our guests. as we drew nigh, mr. petulengro took off his hat and made a profound obeisance to belle, whilst mrs. petulengro rose from the stool and made a profound courtesy. belle, who had flung her hair back over her shoulders, returned their salutations by bending her head, and after slightly glancing at mr. petulengro, fixed her large blue eyes full upon his wife. both these females were very handsome--but how unlike! belle fair, with blue eyes and flaxen hair; mrs. petulengro with olive complexion, eyes black, and hair dark--as dark as could be. belle, in demeanour calm and proud; the gypsy graceful, but full of movement and agitation. and then how different were those two in stature! the head of the romany rawnie scarcely ascended to the breast of isopel berners. i could see that mrs. petulengro gazed on belle with unmixed admiration; so did her husband. 'well,' said the latter, 'one thing i will say, which is, that there is only one on earth worthy to stand up in front of this she and that is the beauty of the world, as far as man flesh is concerned, tawno chikno; what a pity he did not come down!' 'tawno chikno,' said mrs. petulengro, flaring up; 'a pretty fellow he to stand up in front of this gentlewoman, a pity he didn't come, quotha? not at all, the fellow is a sneak, afraid of his wife. he stand up against this rawnie! why, the look she has given me would knock the fellow down.' 'it is easier to knock him down with a look than with a fist,' said mr. petulengro; 'that is, if the look comes from a woman: not that i am disposed to doubt that this female gentlewoman is able to knock him down either one way or the other. i have heard of her often enough, and have seen her once or twice, though not so near as now. well, ma'am, my wife and i are come to pay our respects to you; we are both glad to find that you have left off keeping company with flaming bosville, and have taken up with my pal; he is not very handsome, but a better--' 'i take up with your pal, as you call him! you had better mind what you say,' said isopel berners; 'i take up with nobody.' 'i merely mean taking up your quarters with him,' said mr. petulengro; 'and i was only about to say a better fellow-lodger you cannot have, or a more instructive, especially if you have a desire to be inoculated with tongues, as he calls them. i wonder whether you and he have had any tongue-work already.' 'have you and your wife anything particular to say? if you have nothing but this kind of conversation i must leave you, as i am going to make a journey this afternoon, and should be getting ready.' 'you must excuse my husband, madam,' said mrs. petulengro; 'he is not overburdened with understanding, and has said but one word of sense since he has been here, which was that we came to pay our respects to you. we have dressed ourselves in our best roman way, in order to do honour to you; perhaps you do not like it; if so, i am sorry. i have no french clothes, madam; if i had any, madam, i would have come in them, in order to do you more honour.' 'i like to see you much better as you are,' said belle; 'people should keep to their own fashions, and yours is very pretty.' 'i am glad you are pleased to think it so, madam; it has been admired in the great city; it created what they call a sensation, and some of the great ladies, the court ladies, imitated it, else i should not appear in it so often as i am accustomed; for i am not very fond of what is roman, having an imagination that what is roman is ungenteel; in fact, i once heard the wife of a rich citizen say that gypsies were vulgar creatures. i should have taken her saying very much to heart, but for her improper pronunciation; she could not pronounce her words, madam, which we gypsies, as they call us, usually can, so i thought she was no very high purchase. you are very beautiful, madam, though you are not dressed as i could wish to see you, and your hair is hanging down in sad confusion; allow me to assist you in arranging your hair, madam; i will dress it for you in our fashion; i would fain see how your hair would look in our poor gypsy fashion; pray allow me, madam?' and she took belle by the hand. 'i really can do no such thing,' said belle, withdrawing her hand; 'i thank you for coming to see me, but--' 'do allow me to officiate upon your hair, madam,' said mrs. petulengro. 'i should esteem your allowing me a great mark of condescension. you are very beautiful, madam, and i think you doubly so, because you are so fair; i have a great esteem for persons with fair complexions and hair; i have a less regard for people with dark hair and complexions, madam.' 'then why did you turn off the lord, and take up with me?' said mr. petulengro; 'that same lord was fair enough all about him.' 'people do when they are young and silly what they sometimes repent of when they are of riper years and understandings. i sometimes think that had i not been something of a simpleton, i might at this time be a great court lady. now, madam,' said she, again taking belle by the hand, 'do oblige me by allowing me to plait your hair a little?' 'i have really a good mind to be angry with you,' said belle, giving mrs. petulengro a peculiar glance. 'do allow her to arrange your hair,' said i; 'she means no harm, and wishes to do you honour; do oblige her and me too, for i should like to see how your hair would look dressed in her fashion.' 'you hear what the young rye says?' said mrs. petulengro. 'i am sure you will oblige the young rye, if not myself. many people would be willing to oblige the young rye, if he would but ask them; but he is not in the habit of asking favours. he has a nose of his own, which he keeps tolerably exalted; he does not think small beer of himself, madam; and all the time i have been with him, i never heard him ask a favour before; therefore, madam, i am sure you will oblige him. my sister ursula would be very willing to oblige him in many things, but he will not ask her for anything, except for such a favour as a word, which is a poor favour after all. i don't mean for her word; perhaps he will some day ask you for your word. if so--' 'why, here you are, after railing at me for catching at words, catching at a word yourself,' said mr. petulengro. 'hold your tongue, sir,' said mrs. petulengro. 'don't interrupt me in my discourse; if i caught at a word now, i am not in the habit of doing so. i am no conceited body; no newspaper neddy; no pothouse witty person. i was about to say, madam, that if the young rye asks you at any time for your word, you will do as you deem convenient; but i am sure you will oblige him by allowing me to braid your hair.' 'i shall not do it to oblige him,' said belle; 'the young rye, as you call him, is nothing to me.' 'well, then, to oblige me,' said mrs. petulengro; 'do allow me to become your poor tire-woman.' 'it is great nonsense,' said belle, reddening; 'however, as you came to see me, and ask the matter as a particular favour to yourself--' 'thank you, madam,' said mrs. petulengro, leading belle to the stool; 'please to sit down here. thank you; your hair is very beautiful, madam,' she continued, as she proceeded to braid belle's hair; 'so is your countenance. should you ever go to the great city, among the grand folks, you would make a sensation, madam. i have made one myself, who am dark; the chi she is kauley, which last word signifies black, which i am not, though rather dark. there's no colour like white, madam; it's so lasting, so genteel. gentility will carry the day, madam, even with the young rye. he will ask words of the black lass, but beg the word of the fair.' * * * * * i found belle seated by a fire, over which her kettle was suspended. during my absence she had prepared herself a kind of tent, consisting of large hoops covered over with tarpaulin, quite impenetrable to rain, however violent. 'i am glad you are returned,' said she, as soon as she perceived me; 'i began to be anxious about you. did you take my advice?' 'yes,' said i; 'i went to the public-house and drank ale as you advised me; it cheered, strengthened, and drove away the horror from my mind--i am much beholden to you.' 'i knew it would do you good,' said belle; 'i remembered that when the poor women in the great house were afflicted with hysterics and fearful imaginings, the surgeon, who was a good, kind man, used to say: "ale, give them ale, and let it be strong."' 'he was no advocate for tea, then?' said i. 'he had no objection to tea; but he used to say, "everything in its season." shall we take ours now--i have waited for you.' 'i have no objection,' said i; 'i feel rather heated, and at present should prefer tea to ale--"everything in its season," as the surgeon said.' * * * * * i put some fresh wood on the fire, which was nearly out, and hung the kettle over it. i then issued forth from the dingle, and strolled round the wood that surrounded it; for a long time i was busied in meditation, looking at the ground, striking with my foot, half unconsciously, the tufts of grass and thistles that i met in my way. after some time, i lifted up my eyes to the sky, at first vacantly, and then with more attention, turning my head in all directions for a minute or two; after which i returned to the dingle. isopel was seated near the fire, over which the kettle was now hung; she had changed her dress--no signs of the dust and fatigue of her late excursion remained; she had just added to the fire a small billet of wood, two or three of which i had left beside it; the fire cracked, and a sweet odour filled the dingle. 'i am fond of sitting by a wood fire,' said belle, 'when abroad, whether it be hot or cold; i love to see the flames dart out of the wood; but what kind is this, and where did you get it?' 'it is ash,' said i, 'green ash. somewhat less than a week ago, whilst i was wandering along the road by the side of a wood, i came to a place where some peasants were engaged in cutting up and clearing away a confused mass of fallen timber: a mighty-aged oak had given way the night before, and in its fall had shivered some smaller trees; the upper part of the oak, and the fragments of the rest, lay across the road. i purchased, for a trifle, a bundle or two, and the wood on the fire is part of it--ash, green ash.' 'that makes good the old rhyme,' said belle, 'which i have heard sung by the old woman in the great house:-- '"ash, when green, is fire for a queen."' 'and on fairer form of queen, ash fire never shone,' said i, 'than on thine, o beauteous queen of the dingle.' 'i am half disposed to be angry with you, young man,' said belle. * * * * * after ordering dinner i said that as i was thirsty i should like to have some ale forthwith. 'ale you shall have, your honour,' said tom, 'and some of the best ale that can be drunk. this house is famous for ale.' 'i suppose you get your ale from llangollen,' said i, 'which is celebrated for its ale over wales.' 'get our ale from llangollen?' said tom, with a sneer of contempt, 'no, nor anything else. as for the ale it was brewed in this house by your honour's humble servant.' 'oh,' said i, 'if you brewed it, it must of course be good. pray bring me some immediately, for i am anxious to drink ale of your brewing.' 'your honour shall be obeyed,' said tom, and disappearing returned in a twinkling with a tray on which stood a jug filled with liquor and a glass. he forthwith filled the glass, and pointing to its contents said: 'there, your honour, did you ever see such ale? observe its colour! does it not look for all the world as pale and delicate as cowslip wine?' 'i wish it may not taste like cowslip wine,' said i; 'to tell you the truth, i am no particular admirer of ale that looks pale and delicate; for i always think there is no strength in it.' 'taste it, your honour,' said tom, 'and tell me if you ever tasted such ale.' i tasted it, and then took a copious draught. the ale was indeed admirable, equal to the best that i had ever before drunk--rich and mellow, with scarcely any smack of the hop in it, and though so pale and delicate to the eye nearly as strong as brandy. i commended it highly to the worthy jenkins. 'that llangollen ale indeed! no, no! ale like that, your honour, was never brewed in that trumpery hole llangollen,' 'you seem to have a very low opinion of llangollen?' said i. 'how can i have anything but a low opinion of it, your honour? a trumpery hole it is, and ever will remain so.' 'many people of the first quality go to visit it,' said i. 'that is because it lies so handy for england, your honour. if it did not, nobody would go to see it. what is there to see in llangollen?' 'there is not much to see in the town, i admit,' said i, 'but the scenery about it is beautiful: what mountains!' 'mountains, your honour, mountains! well, we have mountains too, and as beautiful as those of llangollen. then we have our lake, our llyn tegid, the lake of beauty. show me anything like that near llangollen?' 'then,' said i, 'there is your mound, your tomen bala. the llangollen people can show nothing like that.' tom jenkins looked at me for a moment with some surprise, and then said: 'i see you have been here before, sir.' 'no,' said i, 'never, but i have read about the tomen bala in books, both welsh and english.' 'you have, sir,' said tom. 'well, i am rejoiced to see so book-learned a gentleman in our house. the tomen bala has puzzled many a head. what do the books which mention it say about it, your honour?' 'very little,' said i, 'beyond mentioning it; what do the people here say of it?' 'all kinds of strange things, your honour.' 'do they say who built it?' 'some say the tylwyth teg built it, others that it was cast up over a dead king by his people. the truth is, nobody here knows who built it, or anything about it, save that it is a wonder. ah, those people of llangollen can show nothing like it.' * * * * * the strength of the ox, the wit of the fox, and the leveret's speed full oft to oppose to their numerous foes, the rommany need. our horses they take, our waggons they break, and ourselves they seize, in their prisons to coop, where we pine and droop, for want of breeze. when the dead swallow the fly shall follow o'er burra-panee, then we will forget the wrongs we have met and forgiving be. * * * * * i began to think: 'what was likely to be the profit of my present way of life; the living in dingles, making pony and donkey shoes, conversing with gypsy-women under hedges, and extracting from them their odd secrets?' what was likely to be the profit of such a kind of life, even should it continue for a length of time?--a supposition not very probable, for i was earning nothing to support me, and the funds with which i had entered upon this life were gradually disappearing. i was living, it is true, not unpleasantly, enjoying the healthy air of heaven; but, upon the whole, was i not sadly misspending my time? surely i was; and, as i looked back, it appeared to me that i had always been doing so. what had been the profit of the tongues which i had learnt? had they ever assisted me in the day of hunger? no, no! it appeared to me that i had always misspent my time, save in one instance, when by a desperate effort i had collected all the powers of my imagination, and written the life of joseph sell; but even when i wrote the life of sell, was i not in a false position? provided i had not misspent my time, would it have been necessary to make that effort, which, after all, had only enabled me to leave london, and wander about the country for a time? but could i, taking all circumstances into consideration, have done better than i had? with my peculiar temperament and ideas, could i have pursued with advantage the profession to which my respectable parents had endeavoured to bring me up? it appeared to me that i could not, and that the hand of necessity had guided me from my earliest years, until the present night, in which i found myself seated in the dingle, staring on the brands of the fire. but ceasing to think of the past which, as irrecoverably gone, it was useless to regret, even were there cause to regret it, what should i do in future? should i write another book like the life of joseph sell; take it to london, and offer it to a publisher? but when i reflected on the grisly sufferings which i had undergone whilst engaged in writing the life of sell, i shrank from the idea of a similar attempt; moreover, i doubted whether i possessed the power to write a similar work--whether the materials for the life of another sell lurked within the recesses of my brain? had i not better become in reality what i had hitherto been merely playing at--a tinker or a gypsy? but i soon saw that i was not fitted to become either in reality. it was much more agreeable to play the gypsy or the tinker than to become either in reality. i had seen enough of gypsying and tinkering to be convinced of that. all of a sudden the idea of tilling the soil came into my head; tilling the soil was a healthful and noble pursuit! but my idea of tilling the soil had no connection with britain; for i could only expect to till the soil in britain as a serf. i thought of tilling it in america, in which it was said there was plenty of wild, unclaimed land, of which any one, who chose to clear it of its trees, might take possession. i figured myself in america, in an immense forest, clearing the land destined, by my exertions, to become a fruitful and smiling plain. methought i heard the crash of the huge trees as they fell beneath my axe; and then i bethought me that a man was intended to marry--i ought to marry; and if i married, where was i likely to be more happy as a husband and a father than in america, engaged in tilling the ground? i fancied myself in america, engaged in tilling the ground, assisted by an enormous progeny. well, why not marry, and go and till the ground in america? i was young, and youth was the time to marry in, and to labour in. i had the use of all my faculties; my eyes, it is true, were rather dull from early study, and from writing the life of joseph sell; but i could see tolerably well with them, and they were not bleared. i felt my arms, and thighs, and teeth--they were strong and sound enough; so now was the time to labour, to marry, eat strong flesh, and beget strong children--the power of doing all this would pass away with youth, which was terribly transitory. i bethought me that a time would come when my eyes would be bleared, and, perhaps, sightless; my arms and thighs strengthless and sapless; when my teeth would shake in my jaws, even supposing they did not drop out. no going a wooing then, no labouring, no eating strong flesh, and begetting lusty children then; and i bethought me how, when all this should be, i should bewail the days of my youth as misspent, provided i had not in them founded for myself a home, and begotten strong children to take care of me in the days when i could not take care of myself; and thinking of these things, i became sadder and sadder, and stared vacantly upon the fire till my eyes closed in a doze. * * * * * on i went in my journey, traversing england from west to east, ascending and descending hills, crossing rivers by bridge and ferry, and passing over extensive plains. what a beautiful country is england! people run abroad to see beautiful countries, and leave their own behind unknown, unnoticed--their own the most beautiful! and then, again, what a country for adventures! especially to those who travel it on foot, or on horseback. people run abroad in quest of adventures, and traverse spain or portugal on mule or on horseback; whereas there are ten times more adventures to be met with in england than in spain, portugal, or stupid germany to boot. witness the number of adventures narrated in the present book--a book entirely devoted to england. why, there is not a chapter in the present book which is not full of adventures, with the exception of the present one, and this is not yet terminated. after traversing two or three counties, i reached the confines of lincolnshire. during one particularly hot day i put up at a public-house, to which, in the evening, came a party of harvesters to make merry, who, finding me wandering about the house a stranger, invited me to partake of their ale; so i drank with the harvesters, who sang me songs about rural life, such as:-- sitting in the swale; and listening to the swindle of the flail, as it sounds dub-a-dub on the corn, from the neighbouring barn. in requital for which i treated them with a song, not of romanvile, but the song of 'sivord and the horse grayman.' i remained with them till it was dark, having, after sunset, entered into deep discourse with a celebrated ratcatcher, who communicated to me the secrets of his trade, saying, amongst other things: 'when you see the rats pouring out of their holes, and running up my hands and arms, it's not after me they comes, but after the oils i carries about me they comes'; and who subsequently spoke in the most enthusiastic manner of his trade, saying that it was the best trade in the world, and most diverting, and that it was likely to last for ever; for whereas all other kinds of vermin were fast disappearing from england, rats were every day becoming more abundant. i had quitted this good company, and having mounted my horse, was making my way towards a town at about six miles distance, at a swinging trot, my thoughts deeply engaged on what i had gathered from the ratcatcher, when all on a sudden a light glared upon the horse's face, who purled round in great terror, and flung me out of the saddle, as from a sling, or with as much violence as the horse grayman, in the ballad, flings sivord the snareswayne. i fell upon the ground--felt a kind of crashing about my neck--and forthwith became senseless. * * * * * as i was gazing on the prospect an old man driving a peat cart came from the direction in which i was going. i asked him the name of the ravine and he told me it was ceunant coomb or hollow-dingle coomb. i asked the name of the brook, and he told me that it was called the brook of the hollow-dingle coomb, adding that it ran under pont newydd, though where that was i knew not. whilst he was talking with me he stood uncovered. yes, the old peat driver stood with his hat in his hand whilst answering the questions of the poor, dusty foot-traveller. what a fine thing to be an englishman in wales! in about an hour i came to a wild moor; the moor extended for miles and miles. it was bounded on the east and south by immense hills and moels. on i walked at a round pace, the sun scorching me sore, along a dusty, hilly road, now up, now down. nothing could be conceived more cheerless than the scenery around. the ground on each side of the road was mossy and rushy--no houses--instead of them were peat stacks, here and there, standing in their blackness. nothing living to be seen except a few miserable sheep picking the wretched herbage, or lying panting on the shady side of the peat clumps. at length i saw something which appeared to be a sheet of water at the bottom of a low ground on my right. it looked far off--'shall i go and see what it is?' thought i to myself. 'no,' thought i. 'it is too far off'--so on i walked till i lost sight of it, when i repented and thought i would go and see what it was. so i dashed down the moory slope on my right, and presently saw the object again--and now i saw that it was water. i sped towards it through gorse and heather, occasionally leaping a deep drain. at last i reached it. it was a small lake. wearied and panting i flung myself on its bank and gazed upon it. there lay the lake in the low bottom, surrounded by the heathery hillocks; there it lay quite still, the hot sun reflected upon its surface, which shone like a polished blue shield. near the shore it was shallow, at least near that shore upon which i lay. but farther on, my eye, practised in deciding upon the depths of waters, saw reason to suppose that its depth was very great. as i gazed upon it my mind indulged in strange musings. i thought of the afanc, a creature which some have supposed to be the harmless and industrious beaver, others the frightful and destructive crocodile. i wondered whether the afanc was the crocodile or the beaver, and speedily had no doubt that the name was originally applied to the crocodile. 'oh, who can doubt,' thought i, 'that the word was originally intended for something monstrous and horrible? is there not something horrible in the look and sound of the word afanc, something connected with the opening and shutting of immense jaws, and the swallowing of writhing prey? is not the word a fitting brother of the arabic timsah, denoting the dread horny lizard of the waters? moreover, have we not the voice of tradition that the afanc was something monstrous? does it not say that hu the mighty, the inventor of husbandry, who brought the cumry from the summer-country, drew the old afanc out of the lake of lakes with his four gigantic oxen? would he have had recourse to them to draw out the little harmless beaver? oh, surely not. yet have i no doubt that when the crocodile had disappeared from the lands, where the cumric language was spoken, the name afanc was applied to the beaver, probably his successor in the pool, the beaver now called in cumric llostlydan, or the broad- tailed, for tradition's voice is strong that the beaver has at one time been called the afanc.' then i wondered whether the pool before me had been the haunt of the afanc, considered both as crocodile and beaver. i saw no reason to suppose that it had not. 'if crocodiles,' thought i, 'ever existed in britain, and who shall say that they have not, seeing that their remains have been discovered, why should they not have haunted this pool? if beavers ever existed in britain, and do not tradition and giraldus say that they have, why should they not have existed in this pool? 'at a time almost inconceivably remote, when the hills around were covered with woods, through which the elk and the bison and the wild cow strolled, when men were rare throughout the lands and unlike in most things to the present race--at such a period--and such a period there has been--i can easily conceive that the afanc-crocodile haunted this pool, and that when the elk or bison or wild cow came to drink of its waters the grim beast would occasionally rush forth, and seizing his bellowing victim, would return with it to the deeps before me to luxuriate at his ease upon its flesh. and at a time less remote, when the crocodile was no more, and though the woods still covered the hills, and wild cattle strolled about, men were more numerous than before, and less unlike the present race, i can easily conceive this lake to have been the haunt of the afanc-beaver, that he here built cunningly his house of trees and clay, and that to this lake the native would come with his net and his spear to hunt the animal for his precious fur. probably if the depths of that pool were searched relics of the crocodile and the beaver might be found, along with other strange things connected with the periods in which they respectively lived. happy were i if for a brief space i could become a cingalese that i might swim out far into that pool, dive down into its deepest part and endeavour to discover any strange things which beneath its surface may lie.' much in this guise rolled my thoughts as i lay stretched on the margin of the lake. * * * * * 'pray, gentleman, walk in!' said the miller; 'we are going to have our afternoon's meal, and shall be rejoiced if you will join us.' 'yes, do, gentleman,' said the miller's wife, for such the good woman was; 'and many a welcome shall you have.' i hesitated, and was about to excuse myself. 'don't refuse, gentleman!' said both, 'surely you are not too proud to sit down with us?' 'i am afraid i shall only cause you trouble,' said i. 'dim blinder, no trouble,' exclaimed both at once; 'pray do walk in!' i entered the house, and the kitchen, parlour, or whatever it was, a nice little room with a slate floor. they made me sit down at a table by the window, which was already laid for a meal. there was a clean cloth upon it, a tea-pot, cups and saucers, a large plate of bread-and-butter, and a plate, on which were a few very thin slices of brown, watery cheese. my good friends took their seats, the wife poured out tea for the stranger and her husband, helped us both to bread-and-butter and the watery cheese, then took care of herself. before, however, i could taste the tea, the wife, seeming to recollect herself, started up, and hurrying to a cupboard, produced a basin full of snow-white lump sugar, and taking the spoon out of my hand, placed two of the largest lumps in my cup, though she helped neither her husband nor herself; the sugar-basin being probably only kept for grand occasions. my eyes filled with tears; for in the whole course of my life i had never experienced so much genuine hospitality. honour to the miller of mona and his wife; and honour to the kind hospitable celts in general! how different is the reception of this despised race of the wandering stranger from that of ---. however, i am a saxon myself, and the saxons have no doubt their virtues; a pity that they should be all uncouth and ungracious ones! * * * * * now real republicanism is certainly a very fine thing, a much finer thing than toryism, a system of common robbery, which is nevertheless far better than whiggism--a compound of petty larceny, popular instruction, and receiving of stolen goods. yes, real republicanism is certainly a very fine thing, and your real radicals and republicans are certainly very fine fellows, or rather were fine fellows, for the lord only knows where to find them at the present day--the writer does not. if he did, he would at any time go five miles to invite one of them to dinner, even supposing that he had to go to a workhouse in order to find the person he wished to invite. amongst the real radicals of england, those who flourished from the year ' to ' , there were certainly extraordinary characters, men partially insane, perhaps, but honest and brave--they did not make a market of the principles which they professed, and never intended to do so; they believed in them, and were willing to risk their lives in endeavouring to carry them out. the writer wishes to speak in particular of two of these men, both of whom perished on the scaffold--their names were thistlewood and ings. thistlewood, the best known of them, was a brave soldier and had served with distinction as an officer in the french service; he was one of the excellent swordsmen of europe; had fought several duels in france, where it is no child's play to fight a duel; but had never unsheathed his sword for single combat, but in defence of the feeble and insulted--he was kind and open-hearted but of too great simplicity; he had once ten thousand pounds left him, all of which he lent to a friend, who disappeared and never returned him a penny. ings was an uneducated man, of very low stature, but amazing strength and resolution; he was a kind husband and father, and though a humble butcher, the name he bore was one of the royal names of the heathen anglo-saxons. these two men, along with five others, were executed, and their heads hacked off, for levying war against george the fourth; the whole seven dying in a manner which extorted cheers from the populace, the most of them uttering philosophical or patriotic sayings. thistlewood, who was, perhaps, the most calm and collected of all, just before he was turned off, said, 'we are now going to discover the great secret.' ings, the moment before he was choked, was singing 'scots wha hae wi' wallace bled.' now there was no humbug about those men, nor about many more of the same time and of the same principles. they might be deluded about republicanism, as algernon sidney was, and as brutus was, but they were as honest and brave as either brutus or sidney, and as willing to die for their principles. but the radicals who succeeded them were beings of a very different description; they jobbed and traded in republicanism, and either parted with it, or at the present day are eager to part with it, for a consideration. * * * * * 'does your honour remember anything about durham city?' 'oh yes! i remember a good deal about it.' 'then, your honour, pray tell us what you remember about it--pray do! perhaps it will do me good.' 'well then, i remember that it was a fine old city standing on a hill with a river running under it, and that it had a fine old church, one of the finest in the whole of britain; likewise a fine old castle; and last, not least, a capital old inn, where i got a capital dinner off roast durham beef, and a capital glass of ale, which i believe was the cause of my being ever after fond of ale.' * * * * * i was the last of the file, but i now rushed past john jones, who was before me, and next to the old lady, and sure enough there was the chair, in the wall, of him who was called in his day, and still is called by the mountaineers of wales, though his body has been below the earth in the quiet churchyard one hundred and forty years, eos ceiriog, the nightingale of ceiriog, the sweet caroller huw morus, the enthusiastic partizan of charles and the church of england, and the never-tiring lampooner of oliver and the independents. there it was, a kind of hollow in the stone wall, in the hen ffordd, fronting to the west, just above the gorge at the bottom of which murmurs the brook ceiriog, there it was, something like a half barrel chair in a garden, a mouldering stone slab forming the seat, and a large slate stone, the back, on which were cut these letters-- h. m. b. signifying huw morus bard. 'sit down in the chair, gwr boneddig,' said john jones, 'you have taken trouble enough to get to it.' 'do, gentleman,' said the old lady; 'but first let me wipe it with my apron, for it is very wet and dirty.' 'let it be,' said i; then taking off my hat i stood uncovered before the chair, and said in the best welsh i could command, 'shade of huw morus, supposing your shade haunts the place which you loved so well when alive--a saxon, one of the seed of the coiling serpent, has come to this place to pay that respect to true genius, the dawn duw, which he is ever ready to pay. he read the songs of the nightingale of ceiriog in the most distant part of lloegr, when he was a brown-haired boy, and now that he is a grey-haired man he is come to say in this place that they frequently made his eyes overflow with tears of rapture.' i then sat down in the chair, and commenced repeating verses of huw morus. all which i did in the presence of the stout old lady, the short, buxom and bare-armed damsel, and of john jones the calvinistic weaver of llangollen, all of whom listened patiently and approvingly, though the rain was pouring down upon them, and the branches of the trees and the tops of the tall nettles, agitated by the gusts from the mountain hollows, were beating in their faces, for enthusiasm is never scoffed at by the noble simple-minded, genuine welsh, whatever treatment it may receive from the coarse-hearted, sensual, selfish saxon. * * * * * for dinner we had salmon and leg of mutton; the salmon from the dee, the leg from the neighbouring berwyn. the salmon was good enough, but i had eaten better; and here it will not be amiss to say, that the best salmon in the world is caught in the suir, a river that flows past the beautiful town of clonmel in ireland. as for the leg of mutton it was truly wonderful; nothing so good had i ever tasted in the shape of a leg of mutton. the leg of mutton of wales beats the leg of mutton of any other country, and i had never tasted a welsh leg of mutton before. certainly i shall never forget that first welsh leg of mutton which i tasted, rich but delicate, replete with juices derived from the aromatic herbs of the noble berwyn, cooked to a turn, and weighing just four pounds. * * * * * came to tregeiriog, a small village, which takes its name from the brook; tregeiriog signifying the hamlet or village on the ceiriog. seeing a bridge which crossed the rivulet at a slight distance from the road, a little beyond the village, i turned aside to look at it. the proper course of the ceiriog is from south to north; where it is crossed by the bridge, however, it runs from west to east, returning to its usual course, a little way below the bridge. the bridge was small and presented nothing remarkable in itself: i obtained, however, as i looked over its parapet towards the west a view of a scene, not of wild grandeur, but of something which i like better, which richly compensated me for the slight trouble i had taken in stepping aside to visit the little bridge. about a hundred yards distant was a small water mill, built over the rivulet, the wheel going slowly, slowly round; large quantities of pigs, the generality of them brindled, were either browsing on the banks or lying close to the sides half immersed in the water; one immense white hog, the monarch seemingly of the herd, was standing in the middle of the current. such was the scene which i saw from the bridge, a scene of quiet rural life well suited to the brushes of two or three of the old dutch painters, or to those of men scarcely inferior to them in their own style, gainsborough, morland, and crome. * * * * * the name 'pump saint' signifies 'five saints.' why the place is called so i know not. perhaps the name originally belonged to some chapel which stood either where the village now stands or in the neighbourhood. the inn is a good specimen of an ancient welsh hostelry. its gable is to the road and its front to a little space on one side of the way. at a little distance up the road is a blacksmith's shop. the country around is interesting: on the north-west is a fine wooded hill--to the south a valley through which flows the cothi, a fair river, the one whose murmur had come so pleasingly upon my ear in the depth of night. after breakfast i departed for llandovery. presently i came to a lodge on the left-hand beside an ornamental gate at the bottom of an avenue leading seemingly to a gentleman's seat. on inquiring of a woman, who sat at the door of the lodge, to whom the grounds belonged, she said to mr. johnes, and that if i pleased i was welcome to see them. i went in and advanced along the avenue, which consisted of very noble oaks; on the right was a vale in which a beautiful brook was running north and south. beyond the vale to the east were fine wooded hills. i thought i had never seen a more pleasing locality, though i saw it to great disadvantage, the day being dull, and the season the latter fall. presently, on the avenue making a slight turn, i saw the house, a plain but comfortable gentleman's seat with wings. it looked to the south down the dale. 'with what satisfaction i could live in that house,' said i to myself, 'if backed by a couple of thousands a year. with what gravity could i sign a warrant in its library, and with what dreamy comfort translate an ode of lewis glyn cothi, my tankard of rich ale beside me. i wonder whether the proprietor is fond of the old bard and keeps good ale. were i an irishman instead of a norfolk man i would go in and ask him.' * * * * * after the days of the great persecution in england against the gypsies, there can be little doubt that they lived a right merry and tranquil life, wandering about and pitching their tents wherever inclination led them: indeed, i can scarcely conceive any human condition more enviable than gypsy life must have been in england during the latter part of the seventeenth, and the whole of the eighteenth century, which were likewise the happy days for englishmen in general; there was peace and plenty in the land, a contented population, and everything went well. yes, those were brave times for the rommany chals, to which the old people often revert with a sigh: the poor gypsies, say they, were then allowed to sove abri (sleep abroad) where they listed, to heat their kettles at the foot of the oaks, and no people grudged the poor persons one night's use of a meadow to feed their cattle in. footnotes: { a} 'i, who am a smuggler.' the spanish version, 'yo que soy,' etc., is more familiar, and more harmonious. { b} 'when the king arrived.' celebration*** transcribed from the jarrold & sons edition by david price, email ccx @pglaf.org [picture: cover] souvenir of the george borrow celebration norwich, july th, by james hooper _prepared and published for_ _the committee_ jarrold & sons publishers london and norwich / net [picture: picture of george borrow] foreword. the committee are indebted to numerous borrovians for the loan of illustrations and contributions of literary items to the text, to miss c. m. nichols, r.e., for her charming pen pictures of nooks and corners of borrow's old home in willow lane, the rev. f. w. orde ward for his appreciative stanzas, and mr. e. peake for his ode to the flower, whilst special mention must be made of mr. a. j. munnings' inspiring design of george borrow and petulengro overlooking the city of norwich for the cover. list of illustrations george borrow _frontispiece_ staircase doorway, borrow's house _facing page_ george borrow's birthplace, dumpling green, east dereham plan of dumpling green, east dereham roger kerrison crown and angel, st. stephen's the grammar school borrow's house, willow lane the winding river, near norwich the yare at earlham, near norwich the strangers' hall, norwich earlham bridge bowling green inn william simpson tuck's court, st. giles john crome the windmill on mousehold heath ned painter norwich castle and cattle market in borrow's time marshland shales a quaint corner in borrow's house william taylor george borrow's house, oulton, near lowestoft george borrow in george borrow (painted by his brother) corner of borrow's bedroom george borrow's grave, brompton cemetery [picture: staircase doorway to attic in borrow's house/ by c. m. nichols, r.e.] george borrow. man of the book, thou pilgrim of the road, the love of travel drave thee on ever with pursuing goad; trust was thy burning light, truth was thy load-- sweet riddles for the weary to unravel, within thy breast glowed the pure fire of an eternal quest. the bible was thy chart, the open sky thy roof and rafter often, and thou didst learn night's mystery; learning some tale from each poor passer-by, some gracious secret for the grand hereafter. master of lore occult, and wanderer on the wildest shore. what country was not trodden by thy feet, nor bared its bosom and fragrance to the life it leapt to greet? from field and upland or where waters meet was stolen, the virgin dew, the veiled blossom. its native tongue on stranger lips, in every climate hung. pursuer of shy paths, all hunted things all creatures lonely, gypsy and fox and hawk with slanted wings; these drank with thee at the same cosmic springs, these were thy teachers and thy playmates only. nature gave up to them and thee alike, her hidden cup. who brought its glory back to cloistered wales, and wrung their treasure from sacred books and dim sequestered vales? who found the gold in haunted heights and dales, and showed a wondering world its pride and pleasure? divine and strong stood out the altar, with its flame of song. thy bardlike power, the passion of thy thirst for something greater, awoke old cymric melodies the first; till all the mountains into music burst, and their lost glory crowned the recreator. outpoured as wine thy magic words made every shade a shrine. priest of the portals into the unknown, taught by no college, and free of every fountain but thine own; a waif, an exile, by the breezes blown hither and thither to fresh fields of knowledge, that giant form, fearless, and still no moment, rode the storm. from land to land a pilgrim, yet at home where'er thy journey thou didst a dweller in the eternal come; the dust thy floor, the heaven of stars thy dome, to break a lance for truth in some new tourney. with nature blent art thou, and the wide world thy monument. thou gypsy of all time, no lot seems strange, no life was sterile to that free spirit, wrought by rugged change; thy heart found rest in strife, and did outrange the farthest fancy, and woo the sorest peril. hardships and lack were comrades, and the milestones on thy track. f. w. orde ward. george henry borrow. the time is ripe, and over ripe, for a commemorative celebration of george borrow in a city with which he was so long, and so intimately, associated as he was with norwich. his increasing fame as a foremost literary man of the nineteenth century is amply witnessed to by the various biographies of him, and the numerous appreciations of him by writers of repute, and mr. clement shorter's forthcoming "life of borrow" will certainly add to the cult. the following sketch of this wayward genius is mainly devoted to outstanding characteristics, with necessarily brief accounts of his works and journeyings. it seems convenient to sum up his career in the four divisions which follow. _section i_. ( - )--early wandering days. borrow's father, thomas borrow, was a patriotic, pugnacious, but god-fearing cornishman, born at an old homestead known as trethinnick, in the parish of st. cleer, in which his forbears had been settled well back in the seventeenth century, probably earlier. to quote dr. knapp: "they feared god, honoured the king, and believed in 'piskies' and holy wells." thomas borrow, handsome, tall, and muscular, was an adept in the athletic sports for which cornwall is famous, and early signalised himself by his prowess as a boxer. as he grew up, george borrow himself became an ardent admirer of "the fancy," and when asked "what is the best way to get through life quietly?" was wont to say, "learn to box, and keep a civil tongue in your head." in , when nineteen years of age, thomas borrow was articled for five years to a maltster; but just as that period expired, at menheniot fair a bicker arose in which borrow and other young heroes triumphed over the braves of that town. constables appeared, but were promptly felled by the brawny borrow, and, to crown his misdeeds, he knocked over the head-borough, who happened to be his maltster master. he wisely fled, and shortly after enlisted as a private soldier in the coldstream guards, and was soon quartered in london. in , as a sergeant, he was transferred to the west norfolk regiment of militia, with headquarters at east dereham. a company of players from norwich frequently visited that nice little town, and in one of them appeared, as a supernumerary, ann perfrement, the pretty daughter of a small farmer of dumpling green, on the outskirts of the town. this maiden, of huguenot descent, fascinated the cornish soldier, and the two were married at dereham church on february th, . the regiment was then about to start a wandering course over the highways of england--at colchester; in norfolk; then at sheerness, sandgate, and dover; at colchester once more; in kent; essex again, and then, in - , at east dereham, where george was born july th, , in the house of his maternal grandparents. on july th he was baptized george henry, names of the king and of the eldest brother of captain thomas borrow. [picture: plan of dumpling green, east dereham. by permission of mr. murray] as a mere infant borrow was gloomy and fond of solitude, "ever conscious," he says, "of a peculiar heaviness within me, and at times of a strange sensation of fear, which occasionally amounted to horror, and for which i could assign no real cause whatever." of this earliest period he tells a characteristic story of drawing strange lines in the dust with his fingers, when a jew pedlar came up and said: "the child is a sweet child, and he has all the look of one of our own people"; but when he leaned forward to inspect the lines in the dust, "started back, and grew white as a sheet; then, taking off his hat, he made some strange gestures to me, cringing, chattering, . . . and shortly departed, muttering something about 'holy letters,' and talking to himself in a strange tongue." this, in the first chapter of "lavengro," is in the true borrovian mystery-man style. [picture: george borrow's birthplace, dumpling green, east dereham] again and again borrow, throughout his life, suffered from some nervous ailment which defied definition; thus, when he was fifteen, his strength and appetite deserted him and he pined and drooped, but an ancient female, a kind of doctress, who had been his nurse in his infancy, gave him a decoction of a bitter root growing on commons and desolate places, from which he took draughts till he was convalescent. in any estimate of borrow's life the strange attacks of what he called "the fear" or "the horrors" must be taken into account. at times they even produced a suicidal tendency, as when, in , he wrote to his friend roger kerrison, "come to me immediately; i am, i believe, dying." the facsimile of this note in knapp's "life of borrow" is as tremulous as if the writer was suffering from delirium tremens, which, of course, he was not. [picture: roger kerrison] we have in "lavengro" a very interesting account of the boy borrow being taken twice every sunday to the fine parish church at east dereham, where, from a corner of a spacious pew, he would fix his eyes on the dignified high-church rector and the dignified high-church clerk, "from whose lips would roll many a portentous word descriptive of the wondrous works of the most high." the rector was the rev. f. j. h. wollaston, b.d., who was himself patron of the living, which reverted to the crown in . at east dereham, too, he came in touch with that exquisite old gentlewoman, lady fenn, widow of sir john fenn, editor of the "paston letters," as she passed to and fro from her mansion on some errand of bounty or of mercy, leaning on her gold-headed cane, whilst the sleek old footman walked at a respectful distance behind. but borrow's admiration for philo, the clerk, was greatest--"peace to thee, thou fine old chap, despiser of dissenters, and hater of papists, as became a dignified and high-church clerk." leaving dereham in april, , captain borrow and his family were transferred to norman cross, in the parish of yaxley, some four miles from peterborough, to guard a large number of french prisoners in sixteen long casernes, or barracks. at this place little borrow, now seven years old, made a friend, quite to his liking, in a wild sequestered spot which was his favourite haunt; for he was allowed to pass his time principally in wandering about the neighbouring country. it was at this wild nook he came to know a viper-catcher and herbalist, a quaint figure in a skin cap, and with stout gaiters, who was catching a viper when the boy first made his acquaintance. "'what do you think of catching such a thing as that with the naked hand?' asked the old fellow. 'what do i think?' said i. 'why, that i could do as much myself.'" this ruffled the old man's pride, but later he became quite friendly and explained that he hunted the vipers for their fat, to make unguents especially for rheumatism, and also collected simples, knowing he virtues of such as had medicinal value. on one of his excursions this primitive sportsman told him the marvellous tale of the king of the vipers. the old fellow was wakened from his sleep one sultry day by a dreadful viper moving towards him--"all yellow and gold . . . bearing its head about a foot and a-half above the ground, the dry stubble crackling beneath its outrageous belly . . . then it lifted its head and chest high in the air, and high over my face as i looked up, flickering at me with its tongue as if it would fly at my face. child," continued the narrator, "what i felt at that moment i can scarcely say, but it was a sufficient punishment for all the sins i ever committed; and there we two were, i looking up at the viper, and the viper looking down upon me, flickering at me with its tongue." happily a sharp gun report close at hand frightened the reptile away. before leaving the neighbourhood the viper-catcher presented his child friend with a specimen which he had tamed and rendered harmless by removing the fangs. this creature the queer boy fed with milk and often carried with him in his walks. this episode resulted in experiences which coloured all the rest of borrow's life, for, soon after, when he first came among gypsy tents, and saw the long-haired woman with skin dark and swarthy like that of a toad, and a particularly evil expression, and when her husband threatened to baste the intruder with a ladle, the boy broke forth into what in romany would be called a "gillie," or ditty, ending-- "my father lies concealed within my tepid breast, and if to me you offer any harm or wrong, i'll call him forth to help me with his forked tongue." the story cannot be mangled without losing its wild significance, but, on further threats, borrow, to use his own words, "made a motion which the viper understood; and now partly disengaging itself from my bosom, where it had lain perdu, it raised its head to a level with my face, and stared upon my enemy with its glittering eyes." the superstitious gypsies were effectively terrified, and invited the lad into their tent: "don't be angry, and say no; but look kindly upon us, and satisfied, my precious little god almighty." they had taken him for a goblin, but when he explained that he was not "one of them there," the man said, "you are a sap-engro, a chap who catches snakes, and plays tricks with them." then, when the boy proceeded to read them a bit of "robinson crusoe," it was voted that it "beat the rubricals hollow." next followed the momentous meeting with ambrose smith--the jasper petulengro of borrow's pages--and, as the band of gypsies were departing, jasper, turning round, leered into the little gorgio's face, held out his hand, and said, "goodbye, sap, i daresay we shall meet again; remember we are brothers, two gentle brothers." gazing after the retreating company, the sap-engro said to himself, "a strange set of people, i wonder who they can be." such was borrow's first introduction to the romany folk. from july, , to july, , the borrows led a nomadic life, yet at each tarrying-place captain borrow sent his sons to the best school available, and george, in these three years' travelling with the regiment, acquired lilly's latin grammar by heart. a dereham schoolmaster had assured captain borrow that "there is but one good school book in the world--the one i use in my seminary--lilly's latin grammar." there is, it may be added, good evidence that shakespeare was taught out of this venerable work. early in our interesting family were in edinburgh, where the borrow boys were sent to the celebrated high school, and george entered with zest into the faction fights between the auld and the new toon. more, and better than this, he picked up just such a wild character as fitted in with his romantic scheme of things. this was david haggart, son of a gamekeeper and guilty of nearly every crime in the statute book under various aliases--john wilson, john morrison, john mccolgan, david o'brien, and "the switcher." haggart enlisted as a drummer-boy in captain borrow's recruiting-party at leith races in july, , being then just twelve years old; but soon tiring of discipline and scanty pay, obtained his discharge, soon after embarking on a career of crime which culminated in his well-deserved hanging at edinburgh in , at the age of twenty. [picture: crown and angel, st. stephen's. from drawing by mr. h. w. tuck] in june, , the west norfolk regiment was ordered south; some went by sea, those who preferred by land. captain borrow chose the latter, and on july th his division entered norwich, and the earl of orford, colonel of the regiment, entertained the officers and their friends at the maid's head hotel. at this time captain borrow and his family went to lodge at the crown and angel, an ancient hostelry in st. stephen's street. from that convenient centre, the recruiting-parties under captain borrow were very successful in obtaining men, by beat of drum instead of by ballot, as had previously been the practice. but troubles arose in ireland, and in august, , the west norfolks were again on the move. they found themselves at cork early in september, and marched on to clonmel. during their short interval at norwich, george went to the grammar school, and his brother studied painting with "old crome." [picture: the grammar school] captain borrow commanded a division, and george walked by his side, holding the stirrup-leather of his horse, while john thomas borrow, gazetted ensign in may and lieutenant in december, was in his place in the regiment. at clonmel the borrows lodged with a handsome athletic man and his wife, who enthusiastically welcomed them. "i have made bold to bring up a bottle of claret," said the orangeman, ". . . and when your honour and your family have dined, i will make bold too to bring up mistress hyne from londonderry, to introduce to your honour's lady, and then we'll drink to the health of king george, god bless him; to the 'glorious and immortal'--to boyne water--to your honour's speedy promotion to be lord-lieutenant." here at clonmel our hero "read the latin tongue and the greek letters with a nice old clergyman, who sat behind a black oaken desk, with a huge elzevir flaccus before him." "here," says borrow, "i was in the habit of sitting on a large stone, before the roaring fire in the huge open chimney, and entertaining certain of the protestant young gentlemen of my own age . . . with extraordinary accounts of my own adventures and those of the corps, with an occasional anecdote extracted from the story-books of hickathrift and wight wallace, pretending to be conning the lesson all the while." borrow calls hickathrift his countryman; the legend is that tom hickathrift ridded the fenland between lynn and wisbech, of a monstrous giant, by slaying him with the axle-tree of his cart. i gave the full story of this norfolk giant-killer in the _gentleman's magazine_, for january, . the boy's genius for story telling was quite exceptional, and when he was at norwich grammar school, as his schoolfellow dr. martineau informed me, "he used to gather about him three or four favourite schoolfellows, after they had learned their class lesson and before the class was called up, and with a sheet of paper and book on his knee, invent and tell a story, making rapid little pictures of each _dramatis __persona_. the plot was woven and spread out with much ingenuity, and the characters were various and well-discriminated. but two of them were sure to turn up in every tale, the devil and the pope: and the working of the drama invariably had the same issue--the utter ruin and disgrace of these two potentates." at clonmel it was his good luck to make friends with one more notable character, another figure in his gallery of strange personages--murtagh, a papist gasoon, sent to school by his father to be "made a saggrart of and sent to paris and salamanca." but the gasoon loved cards better. george had a new pack, which soon changed hands. "you can't learn greek, so you must teach irish!" said george. "before christmas, murtagh was playing at cards with his brother denis, and i could speak a considerable quantity of broken irish." in january, , the regiment was moved on to templemore, a charming town in mid-tipperary, where the borrows remained but a short time, reaching norwich again on may th, and tarrying at the crown and angel till they settled at the historic little house in king's court, willow lane, which they leased from a builder named thomas king. at the instance of sir peter eade, it was re-named borrow's court, and the tablet commemorating the residence there of george borrow was affixed on november th, . now, by the generosity of the lord mayor of norwich (arthur michael samuel), in this year of grace , it has become a possession of the city of norwich as a borrow museum in perpetuity. at templemore george borrow, tall and large-limbed for a lad of thirteen, still had adventures; for on an excursion to visit his brother at loughmore, he encountered the fierce "dog of peace" and its master, jerry grant, the outlaw--"a fairy man, in league with fairies and spirits, and able to work much harm by supernatural means, on which account the peasants held him in great awe." the account of sergeant bagge's encounter with this wizardly creature is in borrow's best style. the sergeant thought he had the fellow fast by the throat, but suddenly "the man seemed to melt away from his grasp, and the wind howled more and more, and the night poured down darker and darker, the snow and the sleet thicker and more blinding. 'lord have mercy upon us!' said bagge, who concluded that the tussle was 'not fair but something irish and supernatural.'" "i daresay," comments george to his brother, "he's right. i have read of witchcraft in the bible." at templemore, too, our boy of thirteen learned to ride, mounted on a tremendous "gallant specimen of the genuine irish cob," said by borrow to be nearly extinct in his day. this horse had been the only friend in the world of his groom, but after a blow would not let him mount. so young borrow mounted the animal barebacked, for, said the groom, "if you are ever to be a frank rider, you must begin without a saddle; . . . leave it all to him." following the groom's directions, the cob gave his young rider every assistance, and great was the lad's joy! "oh, that ride! that first ride!--most truly it was an epoch in my existence; and i still look back to it with feelings of longing and regret. people may talk of first love--it is a very agreeable event, i daresay--but give me the flush and triumph, and glorious sweat of a first ride, like mine on the mighty cob! . . . by that one trial i had become free . . . of the whole equine species." thus began borrow's passion for the equine race, and he avows that with him the pursuit of languages was always modified by his love of horses. as a wonderful pendant to this riding exploit, borrow tells the tale of the irish smith who, by a magical word, which thrilled the boy, absolutely maddened the cob, until the wizard soothed it by uttering another word "in a voice singularly modified, but sweet and almost plaintive." with this weird episode ends the tale, as "coloured up and poetized" in "lavengro," of borrow's earliest journeyings and adventures; truly in his case adventures were to the adventurous. having had all the wild experiences just outlined, small wonder that the strange lad was not very adaptable when, as a free scholar, he came under the rule of the rev. edward valpy at norwich grammar school. _section ii_. norwich ( - )--school, law, and languages. the criss-cross experiences of his boyhood, together with his mixed cornish and gallic heredity, were elements that very largely helped to create the whimsical character of george borrow. we have now come to the time when the old soldier, with his pension of eight shillings a day, and his excellent and devoted wife, settled with their two sons at the little house in willow lane, norwich. [picture: borrow's house, willow lane] for a short time in , when his parents lodged in st. stephen's, young george was sent to the grammar school; but now, in , settled comfortably in norwich, he was again sent to the grammar school, under the rev. edward valpy, called by dr. knapp "a severe master," by mr. walling "a martinet," whose "principal claims to fame," says mr. jenkins, "are his severity, his having flogged the conqueror of the 'flaming tinman,' and his destruction of the school records of admission, which dated back to the sixteenth century." against this chorus of denunciation, i will quote from a letter the late dr. martineau wrote me about borrow: "it is true that i had to _hoist_ (not 'horse') borrow for his flogging; but not that there was anything exceptional, or capable of leaving permanent scars in the infliction: mr. valpy was not given to excess of that kind." it is a pity that the earliest biographers did not get the opinion of some of borrow's surviving schoolfellows as to their old master. dr. knapp, in , stated that dr. martineau (died january th, ), and dr. w. e. image, d.l., j.p., of herringswell house, suffolk (died september th, ), were the only survivors of borrow's schoolmates. amongst these was thomas borrow burcham, the london police magistrate, who, there is good reason to believe, was a cousin of george's, as his father married a mary perfrement, and t. b. burcham was christened at east dereham church. [picture: the winding river, near norwich. lent by mrs. e. peake] [picture: the yare at earlham, near norwich. by mr. e. peake] it is quite noteworthy that borrow makes no mention of his term at the grammar school in "lavengro," but, after his irish experiences, opens a chapter with the following eloquent description of norwich:-- "a fine old city, truly, is that, view it from whatever side you will, but it shows best from the east, where the ground, bold and elevated, overlooks the fair and fertile valley in which it stands. gazing from those heights, the eye beholds a scene which cannot fail to awaken, even in the least sensitive bosom, feelings of pleasure and admiration. at the foot of the heights flows a narrow and deep river, with an antique bridge communicating with a long and narrow suburb, flanked on either side by rich meadows of the brightest green, beyond which spreads the city, the fine old city, perhaps the most curious specimen at present extant of the genuine old english town. yes, there it spreads from north to south, with its venerable houses, its numerous gardens, its thrice twelve churches, its mighty mound, which, if tradition speaks true, was raised by human hands to serve as the grave heap of an old heathen king, who sits deep within it, with his sword in his hand and his gold and silver treasures about him. there is a grey old castle upon the top of that mighty mound; and yonder, rising three hundred feet above the soil, from among those noble forest trees, behold that old norman master-work, that cloud encircled cathedral spire, around which a garrulous army of rooks and choughs continually wheel their flight. now, who can wonder that the children of that fine old city are proud of her, and offer up prayers for her prosperity? i, myself, who was not born within her walls, offer up prayers for her prosperity, that want may never visit her cottages." "it was yonder, to the west, that the great naval hero of britain first saw the light; he who annihilated the sea pride of spain and dragged the humble banner of france in triumph at his stern. he was born yonder to the west, and of him there is a glorious relic in that old town; in its dark flint guildhouse, the roof of which you can just descry rising above that maze of buildings, in the upper hall of justice, is a species of glass shrine, in which the relic is to be seen: a sword of curious workmanship, the blade is of keen toledan steel, the heft of ivory and mother-of-pearl. 'tis the sword of cordova, won in the bloodiest fray off st. vincent's promontory, and presented by nelson to the old capital of the much-loved land of his birth. yes, the proud spaniard's sword is to be seen in yonder guildhouse, in the glass case affixed to the wall; many other relics has the good old town, but none prouder than the spaniard's sword." after these descriptive passages, he at once passes to the questionings of his father and mother as to the career of "the other child," much more difficult to settle in life than his more sober-minded elder brother, who had, as dr. martineau informed me, "quite too much sense" to join in the wild escapade described by dr. knapp in one of his most "purple patches." captain borrow was sadly exercised about his younger son, and exclaimed, in the discussion about his prospects, "why, he has neither my hair nor eyes; and then his countenance! why, 'tis absolutely swarthy, god forgive me! i had almost said like that of a gypsy, but i have nothing to say against that; the boy is not to be blamed for the colour of his face, nor for his hair and eyes; but, then, his ways and manners!" our glimpses of the grammar school life are meagre, but we can readily understand that to a lad of borrow's temperament the routine of a well-ordered school was naturally distasteful, though he loved to gain knowledge from any unconventional source open to him. so we find him studying french and italian with "one banished priest," the rev. thomas d'eterville, m.a., of caen university, who, as borrow says, "lived in an old court of the old town," having come to norwich in . he advertised his "school in st. andrew's," and this was situated in locket's yard, now built over by messrs. harmer's factory. later he resided in the strangers' hall, then occupied by priests of the adjoining roman catholic chapel of st. john, now superseded by the grand church which towers on the crest of st. giles's hill. the norman priest was robust, with a slight stoop, but a rapid and vigorous step, "sixty or thereabouts," when borrow was his pupil in , according to "lavengro." but he was really considerably younger, for when he died at caen, february nd, , his age was given as seventy-six. in a local obituary notice he was described as "a well-known and respected inhabitant of norwich for upwards of forty years, who retired a few months ago to end his days in his native country." he made a small fortune, and there were rumours that he was engaged in the contraband trade. in a suppressed passage, reproduced by dr. knapp in his notes to "lavengro," d'eterville says he found friends here, and was able to ride a good horse to visit pupils in the country; also that he always carried pistols, which borrow said he had seen. here, then, was another character after borrow's heart, especially as he told his pupil that one day he would be a great philologist. of course, young borrow was by no means the sort of lad to spend all his time on books. he loved to sally forth with an old condemned musket, and did such execution that he seldom returned (sad to say!) without a string of bullfinches, blackbirds, and linnets hanging round his neck. yet, as mr. jenkins says, borrow's "love of animals was almost feminine." with less zest he went fishing--too listless a pastime to interest him much, for he often fell into a doze by the water side, and sometimes let his rod drop into the stream. his poetical but strictly accurate account of earlham is worth quoting: "at some distance from the city, behind a range of hilly ground which rises towards the south-west, is a small river, the waters of which, after many meanderings, eventually enter the principal river of the district, and assist to swell the tide which it rolls down to the ocean. it is a sweet rivulet, and pleasant it is to trace its course from its spring-head, high up in the remote regions of east anglia, till it arrives in the valley behind yon rising ground; and pleasant is that valley, truly a goodly spot, but most lovely where yonder bridge crosses the little stream. beneath its arch the waters rush garrulously into a blue pool, and are there stilled for a time, for the pool is deep, and they appear to have sunk to sleep. farther on, however, you hear their voice again, where they ripple gaily over yon gravelly shallow. on the left, the hill slopes gently down to the margin of the stream. on the right is a green level, a smiling meadow, grass of the richest decks the side of the slope; mighty trees also adorn it, giant elms, the nearest of which, when the sun is nigh at its meridian, fling a broad shadow upon the face of the pool; through yon vista you catch a glimpse of the ancient brick of an old english hall. it has a stately look, that old building, indistinctly seen, as it is, among those umbrageous trees; you might almost suppose it an earl's home; and such it was, or rather upon its site stood an earl's home, in the days of old, for there some old kemp, some sigurd, or thorkild, roaming in quest of a hearthstead, settled down in the gray old time, when thor and freya were yet gods, and odin was a portentous name. yon old hall is still called the earl's home." it was while fishing in "a sweet rivulet" in the grounds of the old hall one summer's day that "a voice, clear and sonorous as a bell," asked, "canst thou answer to thy conscience for pulling all those fish out of the water, and leaving them to gasp in the sun?" the speaker was none other than the learned friend, joseph john gurney ( - ), who as a young man read nearly all the old testament in hebrew in the early morning. it was natural, therefore, that he should ask the young angler if he knew hebrew, having confessed, according to "lavengro," that he himself could not read dante. this is clearly wrong, for writing to thomas fowell buxton, in , he mentions that he is reading sophocles, some italian, livy, etc., and in the following year he informs his sister, hannah buxton, that he is engaged, _inter alia_, on apollonius rhodius, the greek testament, and ariosto. [picture: the strangers' hall, norwich. from painting by ventnor. lent by mr. e. peake] borrow had good reason to respect and admire the quakers, as is evidenced in "wild wales" (chap. cvi.), for when a methodist called them "a bad lot," and said he at first thought borrow was a methodist minister (!), and hoped to hear from him something "conducive to salvation," borrow's severe answer was: "so you shall. never speak ill of people of whom you know nothing. if that isn't a saying conducive to salvation, i know not what is." it is not very creditable, in my opinion, that the late mr. j. b. braithwaite, in his "memoirs of j. j. gurney" (two volumes, ), never once mentions borrow by name. i have no doubt, however, that the following passage refers to him: "'wilt thou execute a little commission for me at arch's?' said joseph john gurney, addressing another of his young friends, whom he had kindly taken one day to dine at his lodgings during the interval between the sittings of the yearly meeting. his young friend, of course, readily assented. j. j. gurney wrote a few lines on a slip of paper which he handed to his young friend, enclosed to his bookseller's; but without giving to his young companion any intimation of its contents. the note was duly delivered, and the circumstance was forgotten until, after a lapse of a few weeks, the young friend, no less to his surprise than to his delight, received a large parcel, sent to him, as he was informed, at joseph john gurney's request, consisting of thirty volumes, comprising the lexicons of simonis and schleusner, and the scholia of the rosenmullers (the father and son) on the old and new testaments: a great prize indeed to a youthful student. many were the instances in which he thus encouraged, amongst his young friends, a taste for reading, more especially in those pursuits in which he himself delighted." [picture: earlham bridge. from photograph. lent by mr. e. peake] who can wonder at mr. clement shorter's indignation when, in his address in norwich on the borrow centenary in , after enumerating many great norwich people, he endeavoured to show "that borrow, the very least of those men and women in public estimation for a good portion of his life, and perhaps the least in popular judgment ever since his death, was really the greatest, was really the man of all others, to whom this beautiful city should do honour if it asks for a name out of its nineteenth-century history to crown with local recognition." in his tombland fair chapter is this vivid patch of local colour: "i was standing on the castle hill in the midst of a fair of horses. i have already had occasion to mention this castle. it is the remains of what was once a norman stronghold, and is perched upon a round mound or monicle, in the midst of the old city. steep is this mound and scarped, evidently by the hand of man; a deep gorge, over which is flung a bridge, separates it, on the south, from a broad swell of open ground called "the hill"; of old the scene of many a tournament and feat of norman chivalry, but now much used as a show place for cattle, where those who buy and sell beeves and other beasts resort at stated periods." perhaps borrow inherited from his father--the conqueror of big ben brain, "whose skin was brown and dusky as that of a toad"--the love of fisticuffs which was so prominently marked in his career. it was this which led him to become the pupil in boxing of "the terrible thurtell," executed for the murder of weare, january th, (his father, thomas thurtell, was sheriff of norwich in , mayor in , and died april th, , at the good old age of eighty-one. he lived at harford hall farm, lakenham, a largish house standing back from the highway, towards the end of the ipswich road, on the left-hand side going from norwich, some little distance this side of harford bridges in the river valley below). the celebrated chapter on "the bruisers of england" ("lavengro," chap. xxvi.) has been warmly applauded by many writers as a very fine example of borrow's style. that it undoubtedly is, but some critics were unsympathetic about pugilism, amongst them the late rev. whitwell elwin, who, in the _quarterly review_ (january-april, ), wrote: "mr. borrow's notions of what constitutes cant have not always been the same. in his 'gypsies of spain' he speaks of pugilistic combats as 'disgraceful and brutalizing exhibitions,' but in the appendix to 'the romany rye' we find that he now considers such language to be cant. this is one of the cases in which second thoughts are worst." another reviewer deprecates borrow's glorifying attitude towards "the very worst amongst the bad, such as david haggart and john thurtell; and not content with turning away the edge of an instinctive condemnation of crime, actually entitles the prize-fighters, the brutality of whose profession can scarcely be exaggerated, 'the priests of an old religion.'" more recently, while advocating the children's bill in the house of commons (march th, ), mr. shaw said that "george borrow never did a worse service to humanity than by writing 'lavengro,' with its glorification of vagabond life." though one cannot acquit borrow of inconsistency, we must remember that "the gypsies of spain" was written in , and that he sent a notice of it to mr. brandram of the bible society in march of that year, ending his letter with the words: "i hope yet to die in the cause of my redeemer." for my part, i am convinced that borrow's real opinion of pugilism is contained in several passages of the appendix to "the romany rye," where he justifies "his favourite pursuits, hunting after strange characters, or analysing strange words and names," and expressed the belief that he would not be refused admission to heaven because of "some inclination to put on certain gloves, not white kid, with any friend who may be inclined for a little old-english diversion, and a readiness to take a glass of ale, with plenty of malt in it, and as little hop as may well be--ale at least two years old--with the aforesaid friend when the diversion is over." he says he is "not ashamed to speak to a beggar in rags, and will associate with anybody, provided he can gratify a laudable curiosity." more emphatically still, he asks: "can the rolls of the english aristocracy exhibit names belonging to more heroic men than those who were called respectively pearce, cribb, and spring?" both "lavengro" and "the romany rye," be it noted, were written long after borrow's association with the bible society had come to an end. those who wish to visualize in some degree the rendezvous of "the bruisers of england, men of tremendous renown," should look upon the building, once the bowling green hotel, by chapel field gardens. it is now an orphan's home, bought for that purpose for seven hundred pounds in january, , but the initials "r.g." on the north wall still recall the memory of richard gurney, "the retired coachman with one leg," who died august th, , aged forty-eight. the stabling still remains in use, but the bowling green now forms part of the property of the bethel hospital: it adjoins the theatre, and is occupied by tennis courts for the recreation of the patients. the bowling green hotel in its heyday was a place of much importance; for being so close to the theatre, it was the chosen hostelry for many great theatrical stars--mrs. charles kean and others. many amusing anecdotes are told of the guests in a booklet on "old norfolk inns," published by messrs. jarrold in , but now unfortunately out of print. borrow gives an account of the mixed assemblage at this inn, gathered for the great fight of july th, , between ned painter ("ned flatnose"), of norwich, and oliver. he is wrong about the planting of the trees in chapel field "at the restoration of sporting charles," for they were planted in , by sir thomas churchman, then lessee of the field. a good contemporary account of the big fight, in which painter won, may be found in "norfolk annals" (compiled from the files of the _norfolk chronicle_), vol. i. p. . this was painter's last appearance in the prize-ring. he was landlord of the white hart, just above st. peter mancroft church, from to , and in that inn there is still a portrait of the famous ned. he occupied the meadows on which thorpe station was built. [picture: bowling green inn (now orphan's home). from drawing by h. w. tuck] borrow's introduction of the celebrated fast trotter "marshland shales" at the tombland fair of march th, , is an anachronism, for that noble animal did not present himself on the castle hill till . he had been sold for guineas in , and again sold in ; he died in , aged thirty-three. sir walter gilbey states that "though the norfolk hackney achieved its fame through blaze (foaled ), who begat the original shales, foaled in , and the foundations of this invaluable breed were thus laid in george ii.'s time, we must have regard to the period during which the breed achieved its celebrity both at home and abroad, and that period is the long reign of george iii." dr. knapp expresses himself as much terrified by the invasion of the free path by "a party rushing madly up, striving to keep pace with a mettlesome steed . . . at the sight of whose enormous hoofs and shaggy fetlocks you are all but ready to perish." such niggling super refinement would be quite repugnant to borrow's highway robustious temperament. [picture: portrait of william simpson. from painting in blackfriars' hall, by thomas phillips, r.a., norwich corporation collection] it was at this horse fair that he became conscious of being watched by someone, till at last he was accosted: "what! the sap-engro? lor! the sap-engro upon the hill!" then jasper revealed himself. he had been dodging about inspecting young borrow, and said he believed borrow had felt his presence--"a sign, brother, that we are akin, that we are _dui palor_--two relations. your blood beat when mine was near, as mine always does at the coming of a brother." the two pals walked on over "the old norman bridge" till they reached the gypsy tents on mousehold, where borrow had a memorable conversation with jasper (ambrose smith), and incurred the wrath of the malignant mrs. herne, who objected to the strange gorgio "stealing" her language. but he continually consorted with jasper, studying the language, the characters, and the manners of the gypsies. so quickly did he pick up romany words that jasper said: "we'll no longer call you sap-engro, brother, but rather lav-engro, which in the language of the gorgios meaneth word master." the handsome tawno chikno would have preferred to call him cooro-mengro, as he had found him "a pure fist master." mrs. herne could not stand this intimacy, for she so hated the gorgio that she said she would like to mix a little poison with his water, so she left her party with her blessing, and this _gillie_ to cheer their hearts: "in all kinds of weather have we lived together; but now we are parted, i goes broken hearted. ye are no longer rommany. to gain a bad brother, ye have lost a good mother." [picture: tuck's court, st. giles] [picture: portrait of john crome. by michael w. sharpe] about three years later, lavengro and jasper had that conversation on mousehold, in which this classic passage occurs:-- "life is sweet, brother." "do you think so?" "think so! there's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise the wind on the heath. life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?" "i would wish to die--" "you talk like a gorgio--which is the same as talking like a fool--were you a rommany chal you would talk wiser. wish to die indeed! a rommany chal would wish to live for ever!" "in sickness, jasper?" "there's the sun and stars, brother." "in blindness, jasper?" "there's the wind on the heath, brother; if i could only feel that, i would gladly live for ever. dosta, we'll now go to the tents and put on the gloves; and i'll try to make you feel what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!" borrow's school era was closed appropriately, says dr. knapp, by the mysterious distemper already referred to, which would, he thought, end his life; but as he recovered a career had to be decided upon, and, apparently on the advice of his friend roger kerrison, the law was chosen. so on monday, march th, , george borrow was articled for a term of five years to the highly respectable firm of simpson & rackham, whose offices were in tuck's court, st. giles's, still occupied by solicitors in the persons of messrs. leathes prior & son. "so," says borrow, "i sat behind a desk many hours in the day, ostensibly engaged in transcribing documents of various kinds. the scene of my labours was a strange old house, occupying one side of a long and narrow court, into which, however, the greater number of the windows looked not, but into an extensive garden, filled with fruit trees, in the rear of a large handsome house, belonging to a highly respectable gentleman." this was william simpson, town clerk of norwich from till his death, in , having succeeded elisha de hague, who attested borrow's articles. the portraits of both these worthies hang in blackfriars hall, that of de hague by sir william beechey, that of simpson by thomas phillips, whose son, h. w. phillips, painted borrow's portrait in : it was exhibited at the royal academy in . as articled clerk borrow lived at mr. simpson's house in the upper close, which has long since disappeared. mr. simpson was a genial and indulgent employer, so probably young borrow found little to prevent him from bringing ab gwilym into company with blackstone: by adopting the law the ardent young linguist had not ceased to be lav-engro; indeed, the acquisition of languages was his chief pursuit. he already knew, in a way, latin, greek, irish, french, italian, spanish, and what dr. knapp calls "the broken jargon" then current in england as gypsy. from a misshapen welsh groom this queer lawyer's clerk learned welsh pronunciation, and to the consternation of his employer, "turned sir edward from the door," and gladly admitted the petty versifier parkerson who sold his sheets to the highest bidder in the streets; worse even than this was his audacity in contending against a wealthy archdeacon that ab gwilym was the superior of ovid. this gentleman was probably the rev. john oldershaw, archdeacon of norfolk from till his death, january st, , aged ninety-three. as he was one of the most active magistrates in the county, he would naturally be on friendly terms with so prominent a lawyer as mr. simpson, whose handsome wife, moreover, was in the habit of giving entertainments which rather worried her spouse. the episode of the wake of freya, included in chapter xx. of dr. knapp's edition of "lavengro," and the fine eulogy of crome in the succeeding chapter, should inspire every reader's genuine interest. here is the memorable crome passage: "a living master? why, there he comes! thou hast had him long, he has long guided thy young hand towards the excellence which is yet far from thee, but which thou canst attain if thou shouldst persist and wrestle, even as he has done, midst gloom and despondency--ay, and even contempt; he who now comes up the creaking stair to thy little studio in the second floor to inspect thy last effort before thou departest, the little stout man whose face is very dark, and whose eye is vivacious; that man has attained excellence, destined some day to be acknowledged, though not till he is cold, and his mortal part returned to its kindred clay. he has painted, not pictures of the world, but english pictures, such as gainsborough himself might have done; beautiful rural pieces, with trees which might well tempt the wild birds to perch upon them; thou needest not run to rome, brother, after pictures of the world, whilst at home there are pictures of england; nor needest thou even go to london, the big city, in search of a master, for thou hast one at home in the old east anglian town who can instruct thee whilst thou needest instruction. better stay at home, brother, at least for a season, and toil and strive 'midst groanings and despondency till thou hast attained excellence even as he has done--the little dark man with the brown coat and the top-boots, whose name will one day be considered the chief ornament of the old town, and whose works will at no distant period rank among the proudest pictures of england--and england against the world! thy master, my brother, thy, at present, all too little considered master--crome." borrow was frankly bored by his experiences in law; he tired of his surroundings, but relaxation came when an old couple gave him a venerable collection of danish ballads, jetsam of the sea, left with the yeoman and his wife by some shipwrecked red-haired man. this was enough to waken his greedy curiosity, and he at once shook off his listlessness, and set to work to learn danish, by the aid of a danish bible bought of a muggletonian preacher, who was also a bookseller. in less than a month he was able to read his prize. a correspondent in "notes and queries" (april rd, ) suggested that borrow confounded muggleton with huntington, which, indeed, seems likely enough. [picture: the windmill on mousehold heath. by john crome] in the old corporation library borrow was enabled to pursue his studies in scandinavian literature, and having become acquainted with william taylor, "one of the most extraordinary men that norwich ever produced," learned german from him with wonderful rapidity. he was a frequent visitor at taylor's house, , king street, which has just been demolished for the extension of some motor works. though a pronounced free-thinker, taylor was a friend of southey, and gave his young pupil excellent advice. mr. elwin once said to me that most of the norwich antipathetic references to borrow arose from his waywardness and wildness as a youth, and considered that there was no evidence that he was ever dissipated or loose in his life. we may largely discount harriet martineau's acid references to taylor's harum-scarum young men, especially as she romanced about that very wild young man polidori, byron's erstwhile physician, who, during his stay in norwich-- - --was ever at the martineaus' house. [picture: ned painter. from an engraving. lent by mr. c. j. a. howes] whatever were the faults of "godless billy," as the norwich people called taylor, it was at his table that borrow met the most intellectual people of norwich, and of visitors who were amongst taylor's admirers. one of these, in july, , was dr. bowring (afterwards sir john), so unjustly and rancorously pilloried in appendix xi. of "the romany rye," in . another guest at the same time was dr. lewis evans, physician to the norfolk and norwich hospital, - , a hot-tempered welshman who had served with distinction in spain during the peninsular war. in william taylor declared that borrow translated with facility and elegance twenty different languages. on monday, february th, , captain borrow made his will, and perhaps it was not a mere coincidence that it was a monday, also on february th, but back in , that he married his beloved wife at east dereham. the old soldier again became concerned about the fate of george when out of his articles, and was anything but heartened by being informed that the young lawyer's clerk had acquired armenian from a book obtained from a clergyman's widow, who took a fancy, so he says, to him, and even drew his portrait--the expression of his countenance putting her in mind of alfieri's saul. the worthy captain died february th, , and was buried in st. giles's churchyard on march th. there never appears to have been any memorial stone, and i have found it impossible to locate the exact position of the grave. as a corner of the churchyard was cut off to widen the street, and to remove a dangerous corner, under the city of norwich act of , it is quite likely that the remains are now under the roadway. in an obituary notice in the _norwich mercury_ of march th, , captain borrow's passing is described thus: "he rose from his bed about four, apparently as well as he has usually been in the winter time; returned to it without the least assistance, and in less than a quarter of an hour was a corpse in the arms of his sons, leaving those who knew his worth and deeply lament his loss." "it will be a shocking thing for george and john," wrote allday kerrison to his brother roger. borrow's articles with simpson & rackham expired on march th, , and a new epoch, packed with extraordinary vicissitudes, was to follow. _section iii_. ( - )--london--early writings--a norwich mayor--gypsying--"veiled period"--bible society. borrow describes his father's death in the following memorable passage in "lavengro": "clasping his hands he uttered another name clearly. it was the name of christ. with that name upon his lips the brave old soldier sank back upon my bosom, and with his hands still clasped yielded up his soul." this concluded volume i. of the original edition of the work. he begins the first chapter of the second volume abruptly, thus: "one-and-ninepence, sir, or the things which you have brought with you will be taken from you!" such was borrow's first greeting in london when, on the morning of april nd, , he alighted from the norwich coach in the yard of the swan with two necks, in a lane now swallowed up by gresham street. he proceeded to the lodgings of his friend roger kerrison, at , millman street, bedford row; but in may he had developed such alarming, even suicidal, symptoms that kerrison, fearing he might be involved in a tragedy, hastily moved off to soho. borrow was now to begin the real battle of life, and he had to put in practice, as best he might, his motto, "fear god, and take your own part." he had left behind in norwich the mother he loved so well, she who ever defended him when his odd speeches and unconventional proceedings called forth criticism or censure. his friend william taylor had given him introductions in london, and "honest six-foot-three," conscious of possessing unusual powers, mental and physical, set forth to seek literary work. so, with some papers from a little green box, he looked up sir richard phillips, in tavistock square, presented him a letter from mr. so-and-so (w. taylor), and was promptly assured "literature is a drug." the following sunday, however, he dined with the old publisher, who was soon to retire to brighton, and was commissioned to compile six volumes of "celebrated trials," etc., "from the earliest records to the year ." what a caprice of fate that the young aspirant should, on the very threshold of his adult career, be thrown into these coulisses of criminal biography! that a taste already keen to search out the birds of prey that haunt the fringe of decorous society, should be immersed, as it were, in a stream of criminal records! old songs of denmark, the poems of ab gwilym ("worth half a dozen of chaucer"!), the "romance in the german style," all were ruthlessly swept aside to give place to a catena of lives of notorious evildoers! the lives and trials appeared in march, , with a preface by sir richard; but without borrow's name. the intellectual impressions which this task, reaching , pages, produced on borrow's mind were, said the publisher, "mournful." the grisly and sordid stories of crime and criminals he had to edit reduced him to a state of gloomy depression. [picture: norwich castle and cattle market in borrow's time. from a lithograph. lent by norwich public library] his melancholy was abated by an unexpected visit from his soldier-artist brother (april th, ), of whom, after an affectionate embrace, he asked: "how is my mother, and how is the dog?" old mrs. borrow, down in willow lane, was getting past her fits of crying over the loss of her husband, and frequently had the prayer book in her hand, but oftener the bible. john borrow had been offered one hundred pounds by a committee to paint robert hawkes, mayor of norwich in , a prominent draper, who became extremely popular for "the nobly liberal spirit in which he sustained the splendour of civic hospitality." mr. t. o. springfield, commonly called "t.o.," was spokesman of the committee--a little watchmaker with a hump, borrow called him. dr. knapp denies that he was a watchmaker, but such he was in his early days, though he became very wealthy through speculations in silk, and mayor of norwich and . quite a character, his tombstone in the rosary cemetery bears this honourable record: "a merciful magistrate, a successful merchant, a consistent politician, a benevolent benefactor, he devoted the energies of a vigorous intellect, and the sympathies of a warm heart, to the prosperity of his native city and the welfare of its inhabitants. beloved, honoured and regretted, he died april th, ." john did not feel equal to painting little mr. hawkes "striding under the norman arch out of the cathedral," but said, "i can introduce you to a great master of the heroic, fully competent to do justice to your mayor." "t.o." thought the money should not go to london, but john prevailed, and so came up to london to interview b. r. haydon, who, owning himself confoundedly hard up, at once accepted the commission. but george comes in as haydon's _beau ideal_ for that face of pharaoh the artist desired to paint; later on borrow asked haydon for a sitting, saying he would "sooner lose a thousand pounds than not have the honour of appearing in the picture." no trace of any such portrait can be found. haydon's portrait of hawkes hangs in st. andrew's hall in close proximity to that of his friend "t.o.," painted by philip westcott. [picture: marshland shales] "i have often thought," says borrow, very characteristically, "what a capital picture might have been made by my brother's friend, if, instead of making the mayor issue out of the norman arch, he had painted him moving under the sign of the checquers (_sic_), or the three brewers, with mace--yes, with mace--the mace appears in the picture issuing out of the norman arch behind the mayor--but likewise with snap, and with whiffler, quart pot, and frying-pan, billy blind, and owlenglass, mr. petulengro, and pakomovna." borrow's real literary career had begun with the translation of "faustus" ( ), a rather lurid german work by f. von klinger, one of whose plays, _sturm und drang_, gave the name to a whole period of german literature. the book was received very unfavourably, but borrow meant having his danish ballads published, and in they were issued by s. wilkin, upper haymarket, norwich, in an edition of five hundred copies, of which two hundred were reserved for norwich and sold at half a guinea each copy; the rest went to london. allan cunningham wrote a very eulogistic metrical dedication. the subscription list reveals a very varied list of subscribers, including bishop bathurst, benjamin haydon, thomas campbell, and john thurtell, who was hanged before the book appeared. borrow's biographers generally treat these ballads with scarcely veiled contempt, though lockhart, whose brilliant renderings of spanish ballads are unsurpassed, wrote of his complete skill in the scandinavian languages, and his "copious body of translations from their popular minstrelsies, not at all to be confounded with that of certain versifiers. . . . his norse ditties have the unforgeable stamp of authenticity on every line." w. bodham donne, a well-known critic, even went so far as to rank them above macaulay's "lays of ancient rome." a fine facsimile edition of borrow's "romantic ballads" was brought out by messrs. jarrold in the early part of this year. a rupture with phillips, almost inevitable, set borrow wandering, and very soon he became acquainted with the old fruit-woman who found a valid defence for theft in the history of "the blessed mary flanders," a dog's-eared volume of "moll flanders," wherein borrow found "the air, the style, the spirit of the writer of the book" which first taught him to read--defoe, of course. this classic is "supreme as a realistic picture of low life in the large." a quite different figure appears in the person of francis arden, a handsome young irishman with whom borrow became acquainted in the coffee-room of an hotel, and with him obtained some knowledge of "the strange and eccentric places of london." when arden burst out laughing one day borrow said he would, perhaps, have joined if it were ever his wont to laugh, and his friends said that, though he enjoyed a joke, he did not seem to have the power of laughing. but in borrow we expect contrarieties, so we find him saying that when he detected a man poking fun at him in welsh he flung back his head, closed his eyes, and laughed aloud; and later on, walking in wales with the rain at his back, he flung his umbrella over his shoulder and laughed. "oh, how a man laughs who has a good umbrella when he has the rain at his back" ("wild wales," pp. , ). passing by borrow's meetings with the armenian merchant, we come to the time when, as he says, he found himself reduced to his last half-crown, and set about writing the "life and adventures of joseph sell, the great traveller," an entirely fictitious personage. this was completed within a week, towards the end of may, , and the story brought the author a welcome twenty pounds. such is the record. dr. knapp believes that there was such a story, probably part of a series, but mr. jenkins gives good reasons for thinking that "joseph sell" was not written till , when borrow would more probably be in want of money than just after payment for his "trials" (in every sense trials) from phillips. anyway, on may th, , borrow left london. at starting he encountered arden driving a cabriolet, who asked him whither he was bound. "i don't know," replied borrow, "all i can say is that i am about to leave london." being out of condition, he tired of walking, mounted a coach, "tipped the blunt" to the driver, and alighted at amesbury, near stonehenge, whence he began a ramble which became a perfect iliad of strange happenings. his health improved, his spirits rose, as he tramped on, his journeyings varying from twenty to twenty-five miles a day. on the fifth day of his tramp he met at an inn the mysterious stranger who "touched," as borrow himself did, against the evil eye; dr. johnson was an habitual toucher, and even macaulay owned to a kindred feeling. while a guest of the "touching" gentleman, borrow was introduced to the rev. mr. platitude, a notable character in his literary portrait gallery--"he did not go to college a gentleman; he went an ass and returned a prig," writes borrow fiercely. no biographer, so far as i know, has identified platitude, but mr. donne evidently knew him, for he calls borrow's account a "gross and unfair caricature." i believe i have identified "the rascally unitarian minister who went over to the high church," with the rev. theophilus browne, fellow and tutor of peterhouse, cambridge, who quitted the church for conscience sake, obtained an appointment at the york unitarian college, and was minister at the octagon chapel in , but was paid to resign the following year. he died at bath in may, . the historian of the octagon applies milton's line to him: "new presbyter is but old priest writ large." arriving at tamworth, borrow entered a cottage inn, and, as was his custom, called "house!" as loud as he could. whilst drinking his beer he cheered the heart of the sorrowful jack slingsby by buying his whole tinker's stock-in-trade--beat, plant, pony, and all--concluding that "a tinker is his own master, a scholar is not." poor slingsby had been driven off the road by the great flaming tinman, "black jack," whose clan name was anselo herne, who, thrusting a bible into slingsby's mouth, forced him to swear his bible oath that he would surrender his beat. here was a truly picturesque situation after borrow's own taste, and, no doubt with a joyful heart, he paid slingsby five pounds ten shillings for his tinker's outfit, bought a wagoner's frock from the landlady, and felt ready enough to encounter the dreaded "black jack." [picture: a quaint corner in borrow's house. by c. m. nichols, r.e.] borrow avers that he fled from london "from fear of consumption," that he must do something or go mad, so, having a knowledge of smithing that enabled him to acquire the tinkering craft, he became a sort of petulengro himself. a few days after pitching his tent in mumper's dingle, near willenhall, as he slept against an ash tree, a voice seemed to cry in his ear danger! danger! and he awoke to see leonora, a pretty gypsy girl of thirteen, wearing a handsome necklace of corals and gold. she offered him a _manricli_, or cake, saying "eat, pretty brother, grey-haired brother." after some demur, he ate part of it; it was poisoned, and he fell into a swoon. soon he heard the voice of the malicious old hag mrs. herne, who, gloating over her enemy, told him he had taken _drows_, as, however he began to move they set their _juggal_ (dog) at him; but the animal, fled from the flash of the tinker's eye, and mrs. herne realised that he would live--the _dook_ (spirit of divination) told her so. the arrival of the welsh preacher peter williams, and his wife winifred, in their cart put the gypsy witch-wife and her daughter to flight. the welshman administered some oil, which, after two hours of suspense, and with the help of an opiate, saved the life of lavengro. during this companionship borrow found that williams suffered excruciating spiritual terrors from the conviction that he had committed the sin against the holy ghost--_pechod ysprydd glan_! borrow left his welsh friends to join no less a personage than jasper petulengro, "one of the clibberty-clabber," quoted peter from a welsh poet; borrow's pal had a wondrous story to tell of mrs. herne, of the "drows," who had "been her own hinjiri," _i.e._ hanged herself. the girl leonora told jasper that she had tracked borrow and found him, alive and well, 'discussing religion with a methody, and that when she told the old woman, mrs. herne said it was all up with her, and she must take a long journey. in march, , died isaac herne, of the same family, son of beautiful sinfi; he was known as "king of the gypsies," and to the last would tell of his meetings and talks with the "romany rye." unlike his clanswoman, who was buried "like a roman woman of the old blood," he was buried in gorgious fashion--in the graveyard of manston church, near leeds. borrow soon parted from jasper, and settled himself in the beautiful mumper's dingle, where he had the historic fight with the "flaming tinman," getting the victory by using his "long melford," on the advice of that towering and handsome female bearing the name of isopel berners, who now comes on the scene, and who will ever remain one of the most fascinating figures in the wonderful gallery of borrovian characters. "i never saw such a face and figure," exclaims borrow, "both regal--why, you look like ingeborg, queen of norway; she had twelve brothers, you know, and could lick them all, though they were heroes-- "'on dovrefeld in norway, were once together seen, the twelve heroic brothers of ingeborg the queen.'" (see "romantic ballads," p. .) in chapter xv. of "the romany rye," borrow thus describes the last farewell to belle, as he called her: "i found the romany party waiting for me, and everything in readiness for departing. mr. petulengro and tawno chikno were mounted on two old horses. the rest, who intended to go to the fair, amongst whom were two or three women, were on foot. on arriving at the extremity of the plain, i looked towards the dingle. isopel berners stood at the mouth, the beams of the early morning sun shone full on her noble face and figure. i waved my hand towards her. she slowly lifted up her right arm. i turned away, and never saw isopel berners again." this little book, concerned chiefly with norwich, cannot follow the wayfarings of borrow, so enchantingly described in "lavengro" and "the romany rye," in chapters which justify to the full mr. birrell's enthusiastic admiration when he wrote: "the delightful, the bewitching, the never sufficiently to be praised george borrow--borrow, the friend of man, at whose bidding lassitude and languor strike their tents and flee; and health and spirits, adventure and human comradeship, take up the reins of life, whistle to the horses and away you go!" it is much to be hoped that the borrow celebration, to which this booklet is a modest contribution, may lead to a warmer appreciation in norwich of one of the greatest men who ever trod her streets. "the romany rye" has a thoroughly borrovian ending, much in the manner of sterne, as many of borrow's passages are. his pilgrimage of tinkering and adventurous vagrancy between may and august, , came to an end at boston--"a large town, situate at the entrance of an extensive firth"--where a recruiting sergeant wished to enlist him for the service of the honourable east india company. but his references to petulengro and tawno chikno disgusted the soldier, who exclaimed: "young fellow, i don't like your way of speaking; no, nor your way of looking. you are mad, sir; you are mad; and what's this? why your hair is grey! you won't do for the honourable company--they like red. i'm glad i didn't give you the shilling." then borrow soliloquizes: "i shouldn't wonder if mr. petulengro and tawno chikno came originally from india. i think i'll go there." so ends one of the most amazing fragments of autobiography that the world has ever seen; many readers we know leave these unwillingly and return to them again and again with unquenchable zest. borrow was twenty-three when in the autumn of he was making his way to norwich from lincolnshire, and from then till his employment by the bible society in , his movements were very uncertain. the intervening years have been called "the veiled period"--gloomy and mysterious, says mr. jenkins, but not utterly dark. he was in norwich at tombland fair in april, , the real date of his doffing his hat to that celebrated horse, "marshland shales," and towards the end of the year he was still in willow lane, as is proved by entries in his mother's cash book, seen by dr. knapp. tired of inactivity, borrow was in london in december, , at , great russell street, w.c., eagerly seeking work, scheming for a work on the songs of scandinavia, jointly with bowring, which came to nothing. it is curious that in a letter to bowring of september th, , he proposes to call on him one evening, as early rising kills him. quite a strange expression for so open-air a wanderer. that borrow could not secure employment in the ordinary avenues of the professions and commerce is hardly to be wondered at; he preferred the society of vagabonds, into which he had been driven by his own inclinations as much as, or more than, by force of circumstances. his brother john told him that his want of success in life was more owing to his being unlike other people than to any other cause. his isolating and aggressive pride engendered a tactlessness which often spoilt any chances of advancement that came his way. but he had dogged determination, which, to quote mr. jenkins, "was to carry him through the most critical period of his life, enable him to earn the approval of those in whose interests he worked, and eventually achieve fame and an unassailable place in english literature." it does not come within the scope of this local souvenir to follow borrow in his career under the bible society in russia and the peninsula; but we must just note that he obtained his appointment with that society through the rev. francis cunningham, a brother-in-law of the great banker j. j. gurney, of earlham, having married his sister richenda at earlham church in . he became rector of pakefield in , and of lowestoft from till his death in august, . [picture: william taylor] [picture: george borrow's house, oulton, near lowestoft] to this gentleman borrow was introduced by a young farmer, no doubt mr. skepper, of oulton hall, on december th, . it is believed that it was through the batemans, of norwich (of whom the late sir frederic bateman, m.d., was best known), that the acquaintance with the skeppers began, as the families had intermarried. on the very day of the introduction mr. cunningham wrote to the rev. andrew brandram, secretary of the bible society, recommending borrow as one who could read the bible in thirteen languages--a very produceable person, of no very defined denomination of christians, but, thought mr. cunningham, of certain christian principle. dr. knapp errs in stating that borrow owed this introduction to j. j. gurney ("life of borrow," i. p. ). anyway, he was invited to interview the bible society secretaries, and when one of them hoped he had slept well, replied: "i am not aware that i fell asleep on the road; i have walked from norwich to london." he records that he did the hundred and twelve miles in twenty-seven hours, his outlay on the journey being . d. for one pint of ale, half-pint of milk, a roll of bread, and two apples. thus began the period of bible distribution in russia and spain, still a life crowded with adventures and risky situations--the tall, handsome, young englishman now in a prison, and anon kissing his hands to a group of tittering nuns. "the bible in spain" was the chief enduring result of these experiences, a work which secured immediate popularity; moreover, the halo of the bible society shed a glamour of unquestionable respectability on borrow's head. at seville, in some inexplicable way, borrow met mrs. clarke (born mary skepper), the widow of lieut. clarke, by whom she had the daughter henrietta, the "hen" of "wild wales," who in married dr. macoubrey, apparently both a physician and a barrister. accompanied by her daughter, now about twenty-two, mrs. clarke arrived at seville, and their _menage_ there with borrow was certainly curious; but on april rd, , the whole party, including hayim ben attar, his body servant, and sidi habismilk, his arab steed, boarded the "royal adelaide," bound for london, where she berthed on april th. the borrow party at once proceeded to the spread eagle inn, gracechurch street, and on april rd, george henry borrow, "gentleman, of the city of norwich," was married at st. peter's, cornhill, in the city of london to mary clarke, "widow, daughter of edmund skepper, esquire." one of the witnesses was mr. john pilgrim, a norwich solicitor. about may th the little family left london for oulton, long to be the home of lav-engro, and of his faithful and most helpful wife, who had an assured income of pounds, with something over from the estate. [picture: george borrow. from a photograph by mr. pulley, taken in . lent by mr. simms reeve] [picture: george borrow. painted by john t. borrow, a pupil of old crome] _section iv_. ( - )--oulton--authorship--borrow's appearance and leading characteristics--twilight, and the end. our ulysses had now found a haven of refuge, and a permanent calypso who worthily held his heart to the end. oulton cottage, with its banded firs and solemn solitary lake, alive with wild fowl, was an ideal place for borrow. he had, in his early days, loved norwich well, and might have settled here but for what harriet martineau styles the shout of laughter from all who remembered the old norwich days, when he appeared "as a devout agent of the bible society." it is unquestionable that the jog-trot "daily-round-and-common-task" citizens of norwich looked askance at him as a sort of _lusus naturae_, what naturalists call a "sport"--not in the slangy sense. mr. egmont hake ("macmillan's magazine," , vol. xlv.) went so far as to say that borrow was "perhaps the handsomest man of his day." on the other hand, caroline fox, the quakeress, who called on borrow in october, , described him as "a tall, ungainly man, with great physical strength, quick, penetrating eye, a confident manner, and a disagreeable tone and pronunciation." it was on april th, , that sir robert peel pronounced his striking eulogy on "the bible in spain." any appreciation of borrow's works is out of the question in this outline survey. he professed a great liking for his "lives and trials"--how full were the lives "of wild and racy adventures, and in what racy, genuine language they were told." these words are closely applicable to borrow's own writings; many of the critics fell foul of them, though lockhart said borrow had "a true eye for the picturesque, and a fund of real racy humour," while elwin, fourteen years later ( ), praised his descriptions "as accurate as they are picturesque. they abound in dramatic and delicate strokes of nature, of which no extracts give an adequate idea, and are painted with a force that brings men, events and prospects before the eye with the vividness of reality. in this power of verbal delineation mr. borrow has never been outdone. . . . his descriptions of scenery have a peculiar sublimity and grace." a little later, w. bodham donne, a norfolk man and acute critic, said, "we all read mr. borrow's books," but lamented his "plunge into the worse than irish bogs of polemical protestantism." mr. saintsbury, one of our foremost literary essayists, while asserting, in , that borrow was not a popular author, stated that "his works greatly influenced longfellow and merimee, especially the latter." blackwood naturally disliked borrow, said gypsies constituted nine-tenths of his stock-in-trade, and that his chief credential to london was a letter from "an eccentric german teacher"! to-day where will you find a competent scholarly critic who is not a whole-hearted admirer of borrow's style? his grave and gay pictures of persons and places, are etched in with instinctive faithfulness, and clarity of atmosphere; always excepting such characters as were under the ban of his capricious hatred: "mr. flamson," "the old radical," scott and his "gentility nonsense," and so forth. it is doubtful if any but lovers of the open road, can thoroughly enter into the borrow fellowship, but only such as mr. e. v. lucas, mr. hilaire belloc, of the comity of wayfaring men--initiates in the charities of the roads--men who love the dewy perfume of the meadows when the day is young, the blazing splendours of noon on the highway, and the magic of moonlight in many a dale, on many a hill. men, moreover, who find nothing "low" in listening to the tapestried talk of wayside taverns, where, indeed, even to-day many a scrap of folk-lore and remnant of age-old superstitions may be learned. the spirit of borrow has inspired and evolved the noble army of caravanners, with lady grosvenor and mr. j. harris stone at their head. the people who cannot appreciate borrow are those who will not lift their eyes from the pavement to be rapt in admiration of a glorious sunset, to whom, indeed, borrow would appear a silly enigma, or a boor. for, when "the heavens declare the glory of god; and the firmament showeth his handy work," comes that rare time when the spirit--unconsciously worshipping--is uplifted in an ecstasy of wonder and joy, who then can but pity the dull eye ever abased to the grime of the trodden path? "in matters of taste you never are sure-- your curry's a poison, your tastelessness pure!" borrow's sturdy forthrightness, his abhorrence of suave ambiguities and formal inanities, found vent in most vigorous and unmistakeable language; dogmatic _obiter dicta_ came from his mouth or his pen like so many cudgel-thwacks. his nature was tense and intense, very excitable and subject to aberrant moods--and he was often the victim of a false ply, as the french would say. it cannot be gainsaid that his suspicions of society ways, and of ordinarily conventional literary men, often betrayed him into tactless discourtesies. it is needless to repeat the anecdotes in which he appears in an unfavourable light, some of them probably exaggerations, as, for instance, the well-known story of borrow snubbing thackeray, as told by dr. hake. miss jay, whose father was of the firm of jay and pilgrim, told me (november nd, ) that borrow was loud in his denunciation of thackeray's meanness on a certain occasion, and she utterly refused to believe dr. hake's version of the alleged boorishness at hardwick hall. borrow was a man of many moods, and miss jay seems to have seen him only in his brighter hours: she described him to me as open-hearted and generous, always thought highly of good old ale, and liked burgundy. "it puts fire into your veins," he would say; if he poured out wine for anyone, he was angry if they did not drink it. but she never knew him to exceed, and, though she often saw him highly excited, never heard him swear. very similar accounts appeared in the _eastern daily press_, of october st, , over the signature "e.h." [picture: corner of george borrow's bedroom, showing a view of city roofs. by c. m. nichols, r.e.] another friend of borrow's with whom i had many talks was the late rev. whitwell elwin, at booton rectory. he was editor of the _quarterly review_ ( - ), and in had reviewed "lavengro" and "the romany rye" in excellent style, under the heading "roving life in england." mr. elwin and his wife were a most delightful couple, models of old-fashioned courtesy and heart-kindness. he knew borrow well, and quite discredited the innuendoes and insinuations of many norwich folk about him. it was a joke with the murray circle that "big borrow was second fiddle at his home, and there is ample testimony that his wife was a capable manager and looked after his affairs, literary as well as domestic." though borrow boasted of his proficiency in the norfolk dialect, mr. elwin told him that he had not cultivated it with his usual success. mr. elwin died january st, , aged eighty-three. quite naturally old mrs. borrow grew lonely, and weary of the dilapidated house in willow lane, so she was removed to oulton in september, , and there she died august th, . under imperative orders from dr. hake, the borrows left oulton and got to yarmouth, where they lived - at john sharman's, , king street; - at , camperdown place; - at , camperdown place; and finally, november, , to june th, , at , trafalgar place. these tarryings were, however, broken by many excursions--a most interesting one to his kinsfolk in cornwall in , to wales in , and the isle of man in . in borrow, his wife, and step-daughter, henrietta clarke, took up their abode at , hereford square, brompton, now distinguished by a county council tablet. there borrow remained fourteen years. from there, in , his step-daughter, henrietta, married dr. macoubrey, and then came the most crushing blow of all--the death of his wife, january th, . one is reminded of the epitaph which i have seen on mrs. carlyle's tombstone, in haddington cemetery, in which carlyle records that the light of his life is gone out; so borrow's life was shadowed after his wife passed away--she who wrote his letters, staved off the "horrors," and conducted his financial affairs. borrow stayed on at hereford square until towards the end of . a meeting with c. g. leland prompted him to issue his last book worth notice--"the romano-y-lavo-lil"; or word book of the english gypsy language. this, in the light of the advance made in philology, and very notably in gypsy lore, proved conclusively that borrow could now no longer be reckoned a "deep 'gyptian," though the impulse of his work undoubtedly stirred up many scholars to pursue the study of the romany language. in his latter days in london he sometimes had pleasant intercourse with such kindred spirits as mr. watts-dunton, mr. hindes groome, and he was still robust enough at seventy to plunge into an ice-covered pond on a bitterly cold march morning. when he finally retired to his oulton cottage, where a mrs. barbour was his housekeeper until dr. and mrs. macoubrey joined him in , he began to spend much of his time in norwich. a life-long friend of his was miss lucy brightwell, a prolific writer and most skilful etcher, who died at her house, no. , surrey street, april th, . here we must perforce quote dr. knapp: "miss brightwell was an intimate and constant visitor at the willow lane house from her early years. old mrs. borrow mentions her in her letters as 'the child' and 'lucy,' and the latter in her correspondence calls mrs. borrow 'mother.' . . . it was in the garden of miss brightwell's house in surrey street, norwich, that the only _photograph_ existing of mr. borrow was taken by her brother 'tom' in . this picture is now so faded that it has defied all attempts to reproduce it in this book." the fact is that dr. knapp was refused the use of the photograph, which was not taken by tom brightwell, but by mr. pulley, a solicitor, of the firm of field, son, & pulley. this picture is now the property of mrs. simms reeve, of norwich and brancaster hall. her own portrait as a girl is one of several separate figures framed together, borrow occupying a place in the top row. fortunately, by the courtesy of mr. and mrs. simms reeve, this interesting portrait of borrow, when he was forty-five years of age, has now been reproduced, and it is, perhaps, the most valuable item in this souvenir, it also is lent by mrs. simms reeve for the temporary collection of borrow relics in norwich castle museum. when he came to norwich in these later days borrow used to lodge at mrs. church's, in lady lane, off bethel street, known as ivy house, and much frequented by theatrical people, now adapted to be a dispensary. a grand-daughter of borrow's friend w. bodham donne wrote me, in , that "borrow once lodged at ivy cottage, lady's lane, where a dear old miss donne was living." from lady lane it is only a few hundred yards to the well-loved little house in willow lane, at which his father died, and where his mother lived till her removal to oulton as stated above. little remains to record. some there are who remember borrow's tall figure in the streets of norwich. the old city--"the norwich i love"--seemed to draw him irresistibly from his hermitage. nor is this to be wondered at; for all accounts i have seen, and heard also, of the oulton domestic arrangements during the last few years of his life, agree that they were deplorable. mr. elwin told me that, after the death of borrow's wife, the home was not well looked after, and that mr. cooke (murray's cousin and partner) "told him with tears in his eyes how neglected the home was, and how the noble old man was broken up." miss jay also informed me that "after mrs. borrow's death mrs. macoubrey was wanting in tact to manage him and the affairs of the family, hence the gradual decline of household matters into the disorder and neglect referred to by visitors to oulton in borrow's latter days." no wonder the weary old lav-engro was glad to revisit the scenes of his youth, and found it restful to spend much of his time in the norfolk hotel (which stood where the hippodrome now is), talking with his friends, with a glass before him--"of course to pay for the seat," remarks dr. knapp, with an apparent attempt at sarcasm. i know a gentleman in norwich now who remembers borrow's visits to the subscription library opposite the guildhall, and his adjournments to the "norfolk" after asking my informant to join him in a glass of brandy and water. borrow's death, july th, , was very sudden. left alone in the house, he was found dead when dr. and mrs. macoubrey returned from a drive to lowestoft. "it seems fitting," says mr. jenkins, "that he should die alone"; but he justly adds, "whatever the facts, it was strange to leave so old and so infirm a man quite unattended." dr. knapp affirms that borrow "had earnestly requested them not to go away, because he felt that he was in a dying state." the corpse of the worn-out veteran was detained in oulton from july th to august th--"by reason of the absence of a physician's certificate," says dr. knapp. borrow was buried in brompton cemetery beside his wife. at the time of his death borrow was practically forgotten, and even first-rate handbooks omitted his name from their obituaries. the case is altered now, and the borrow celebration, of which this souvenir will be one memento, bears eloquent testimony to the fact. those who enter the valley of vision with george borrow, those who come into touch with the glamour and witchery of him, will ever find a new light in life, and travel in new avenues of happiness. the present celebration will bring fresh fame to norwich, and no doubt will give an immense impulse to borrovian sentiment in his beloved city. we are never likely to have another borrow! a flower from borrow's grave. a simple flower with heart of gold, what should'st thou know of mortal sorrow? though thou hadst grown in london mould, above the grave of mighty borrow. so firm the hold, thy creeping root, so true thy purchase on the stone, thou there defiest the city soot, the careless step, the heat of noon. an emblem fair of lavengro, thou art in all thy brave upbringing; obscure, he wandered to and fro, wrote joy on earth by faith upspringing. like thee he loved the windy heath; he did not fear though storms might rave, he dreaded not the earth beneath, he chose his own, a london grave. [picture: george borrow's grave, brompton cemetery. from mr. a. farrants] transcribed from the hodder and stoughton edition by david price, email ccx @pglaf.org immortal memories by clement shorter hodder and stoughton london mcmvii _butler and tanner_, _the selwood printing works_, _frome_, _and london_. prefatory the following addresses were delivered at the request of various literary societies and commemorative committees. they amused me to write, and they apparently interested the audiences for which they were primarily intended. perhaps they do not bear an appearance in print. but they are not for my brother-journalists to read nor for the judicious men of letters. i prefer to think that they are intended solely for those whom hazlitt styled "sensible people." hazlitt said that "the most sensible people to be met with in society are men of business and of the world." i am hoping that these will buy my book and that some of them will like it. it is recorded by sir henry taylor of samuel rogers that when he wrote that very indifferent poem, _italy_, he said, "i will make people buy. turner shall illustrate my verse." it is of no importance that the biographer of rogers tells us that the poet first made the artist known to the world by these illustrations. taylor's story is a good one, and the moral worth taking to heart. the late lord acton, most learned and most accomplished of men, wrote out a list of the hundred best books as he considered them to be. they were printed in a popular magazine. they naturally excited much interest. i have rescued them from the pages of the _pall mall magazine_. those who will not buy my book for its seven other essays may do so on account of lord acton's list of books being here first preserved "between boards." i shall be equally well pleased. clement shorter. great missenden, bucks. i. to the immortal memory of dr. samuel johnson a toast proposed at the johnson birthday celebration held at the three crowns inn, lichfield, in september, . in rising to propose this toast i cannot ignore what must be in many of your minds, the recollection that last year it was submitted by a very dear friend of my own, who, alas! has now gone to his rest, i mean dr. richard garnett. { } many of you who heard him in this place will recall, with kindly memories, that venerable scholar. i am one of those who, in the interval have stood beside his open grave; and i know you will permit me to testify here to the fact that rarely has such brilliant scholarship been combined with so kindly a nature, and with so much generosity to other workers in the literary field. one may sigh that it is not possible to perpetuate for all time for the benefit of others the vast mass of learning which such men as dr. garnett are able to accumulate. one may lament even more that one is not able to present in some concrete form, as an example to those who follow, his fine qualities of heart and mind--his generous faculty for 'helping lame dogs over stiles.' dr. garnett had not only a splendid erudition that specially qualified him for proposing this toast, he had also what many of you may think an equally exceptional qualification--he was a native of lichfield; he was born in this fine city. as a londoner--like boswell when charged with the crime of being a scotsman i may say that i cannot help it--i suppose i should come to you with hesitating footsteps. perhaps it was rash of me to come at all, in spite of an invitation so kindly worded. yet how gladly does any lover, not only of dr. johnson, but of all good literature, come to lichfield. four cathedral cities of our land stand forth in my mind with a certain magnetic power to draw even the most humble lover of books towards them--oxford, bath, norwich, lichfield, these four and no others. oxford we all love and revere as the nourishing mother of so many famous men. here we naturally recall dr. johnson's love of it--his defence of it against all comers. the glamour of oxford and the memory of the great men who from age to age have walked its streets and quadrangles, is with us upon every visit. bath again has noble memories. upon house after house in that fine city is inscribed the fact that it was at one time the home of a famous man or woman of the past. through its streets many of our great imaginative writers have strolled, and those streets have been immortalized in the pages of several great novelists, notably of jane austen and charles dickens. for the city of norwich i have a particular affection, as for long the home in quite separate epochs of sir thomas browne and of george borrow. i recall that in the reign of one of its bishops--the father of dean stanley--there was a literary circle of striking character, that men and women of intellect met in the episcopal palace to discuss all 'obstinate questionings.' but if he were asked to choose between the golden age of bath, of norwich, or of lichfield, i am sure that any man who knew his books would give the palm to lichfield, and would recall that period in the life of lichfield when dr. seward resided in the bishop's palace, with his two daughters, and when they were there entertaining so many famous friends. i saw the other day the statement that anna seward's name was unknown to the present generation. now i have her works in nine volumes { }; i have read them, and i doubt not but that there are many more who have done the same. sir walter scott's friendship would alone preserve her memory if every line she wrote deserved to be forgotten as is too readily assumed. scott, indeed, professed admiration for her verse, and a yet greater poet, wordsworth, wrote in praise of two fine lines at the close of one of her sonnets, that entitled 'invitation to a friend,' lines which i believe present the first appearance in english poetry of the form of blank verse immortalized by tennyson. come, that i may not hear the winds of night, nor count the heavy eave-drops as they fall. "you have well criticized the poetic powers of this lady," says wordsworth, "but, after all, her verses please me, with all their faults, better than those of mrs. barbauld, who, with much higher powers of mind, was spoiled as a poetess by being a dissenter." less, however, can be said for her poetry to-day than for her capacity as a letter writer. a letter writing faculty has immortalized more than one english author, horace walpole for example, who had this in common with anna seward, that he had the bad taste not to like dr. johnson. sooner or later there will be a reprint of a selection of anna seward's correspondence; you will find in it a picture of country life in the middle of the eighteenth century--and by that i mean lichfield life--that is quite unsurpassed. anna seward, her friends and her enemies, stand before us in very marked outline. as with walpole also, she must have written with an eye to publication. veracity was not her strong point, but her literary faculty was very marked indeed. those who have read the letters that treat of her sister's betrothal and death, for example, will not easily forget them. the accepted lover, you remember, was a mr. porter, a son of the widow whom johnson married; and sarah seward, aged only eighteen, died soon after her betrothal to him. that is but one of a thousand episodes in the world into which we are introduced in these pages. { } the bishop's palace was the scene of brilliant symposiums. there one might have met erasmus darwin of the _botanic garden_, whose fame has been somewhat dulled by the extraordinary genius of his grandson. there also came richard edgeworth, the father of maria, whose _castle rackrent_ and _the absentee_ are still among the most delightful books that we read; and there were the two young girls, honora and elizabeth sneyd, who were destined in succession to become richard edgeworth's wives. there, above all, was thomas day, the author of _sanford and merton_, a book which delighted many of us when we were young, and which i imagine with all its priggishness will always survive as a classic for children. there, for a short time, came major andre, betrothed to honora sneyd, but destined to die so tragically in the american war of independence. it is to miss seward's malicious talent as a letter writer that we owe the exceedingly picturesque account of day's efforts to obtain a wife upon a particular pattern, his selection of sabrina sidney, whom he prepared for that high destiny by sending her to a boarding school until she was of the right age--his lessons in stoicism--his disappointment because she screamed when he fired pistols at her petticoats, and yelled when he dropped melted sealing-wax on her bare arms; it is a tragi-comic picture, and one is glad that sabrina married some other man than her exacting guardian. but we would not miss miss seward's racy stories for anything, nor ignore her many letters with their revelation of the glories of old- time lichfield, and of those 'lunar meetings' at which the wise ones foregathered. now and again these worthies burst into sarcasm at one another's expense, as when darwin satirizes the publication of mr. seward's edition of _beaumont and fletcher_, and dr. johnson's edition of _shakspere_ from lichfield famed two giant critics come, tremble, ye poets! hear them! fe, fo, fum! by seward's arm the mangled beaumont bled, and johnson grinds poor shakspere's bones for bread. but perhaps after all, if we eliminate dr. johnson, the lover of letters gives the second place, not to miss seward and her circle, but to david garrick. lichfield contains more than one memento of that great man. the actor's art is a poor sort of thing as a rule. johnson, in his tarter moments, expresses this attitude, as when he talked of garrick as a man who exhibited himself for a shilling, when he called him 'a futile fellow,' and implied that it was very unworthy of lord campden to have made much of the actor and to have ignored so distinguished a writer as goldsmith, when thrown into the company of both. still undoubtedly johnson's last word upon garrick is the best--'his death has eclipsed the gaiety of nations and diminished the public stock of harmless pleasure.' we who live more than a hundred years later are able to recognize that garrick has been the one great actor from that age to this. as a rule the mummers are mimics and little more, and generations go on, giving them their brief but glorious hour of fame, and then leaving them as mere names in the history of the stage. garrick was preserved from this fate, not only by the circumstance that he had an army of distinguished literary friends, but by his interesting personality and by his own writings. many lines of his plays and prologues have become part of current speech. moreover his must have been a great personality, as those of us who have met sir henry irving in these latter days have realized that his was also a great personality. it is fitting, therefore, that these two great actors, the most famous of an interesting, if not always an heroic profession, should lie side by side in westminster abbey. i now come to my toast "the memory of dr. johnson." after all, johnson was the greatest of all lichfieldians, and one of the great men of his own and of all ages. we may talk about him and praise him because we shall be the better for so doing, but we shall certainly say nothing new. one or two points, however, seem to me worthy of emphasis in this company of johnsonians. i think we should resent two popular fallacies which you will not hear from literary students, but only from one whom it is convenient to call "the man in the street." the first is, that we should know nothing about johnson if it were not for boswell's famous life, and the second that johnson the author is dead, and that our great hero only lives as a brilliant conversationalist in the pages of boswell and others. boswell's _life of johnson_ is the greatest biography in the english language; we all admit that. it is crowded with incident and anecdote. neither walter scott nor rousseau, each of whom has had an equal number of pages devoted to his personality, lives so distinctly for future ages as does johnson in the pages of boswell. understanding all this, we are entitled to ask ourselves what we should have thought of dr. johnson had there been no boswell; and to this question i do not hesitate to answer that we should have loved him as much as ever, and that there would still have been a mass of material with the true boswellian flavour. he would not have made an appeal to so large a public, but some ingenious person would have drawn together all the anecdotes, all the epigrams, all the touches of that fine humanity, and given us from these various sources an amalgam of johnson, that every bookman at least would have desired to read and study. in fanny burney's _letters and diaries_ the presentation of johnson is delightful. i wonder very much that all the johnson fragments that miss burney provides have not been published separately. then mrs. thrale has chatted about johnson copiously in her "anecdotes," and these pleasant stories have been reprinted again and again for the curious. i recall many other sources of information about the great man and his wonderful talk--by miss hawkins, miss reynolds, miss hannah more for example--and many of you who have dr. birkbeck hill's _johnson miscellanies_ have these in a pleasantly acceptable form. my second point is concerned with dr. johnson's position apart from all this fund of anecdote, and this brilliant collection of unforgettable epigram in boswell and elsewhere. as a writer, many will tell you, dr. johnson is dead. the thing is absurd on the face of it. there is room for some disagreement as to his position as a poet. on that question of poetry unanimity is ever hard to seek; so many mistake rhetoric for poetry. only twice at the most, it seems to me, does dr. johnson reach anything in the shape of real inspiration in his many poems, { } although it must be admitted that earlier generations admired them greatly. to have been praised ardently by sir walter scott, by byron, and by tennyson should seem sufficient to demonstrate that he was a poet, were it not that, as i could prove if time allowed, poets are almost invariably bad critics of poetry. sir walter scott read _the vanity of human wishes_ with "a choking sensation in the throat," and declared that he had more pleasure in reading that and johnson's other long poem, _london_, than any other poetic compositions he could mention. but then i think it was always the sentiment in verse, and not its quality, that attracted scott. byron also declared that _the vanity of human wishes_ was "a great poem." certainly these poems are quotable poems. who does not recall the line about "surveying mankind from china to peru," or think, as johnson taught us, to:-- mark what ills the scholar's life assail, toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. or remember his epitaph on one who:-- left a name at which the world grew pale, to point a moral or adorn a tale. one line--"superfluous lags the veteran on the stage" has done duty again and again. i might quote a hundred such examples to show johnson, whatever his qualities as a poet, is very much alive indeed in his verse. it is, however, as a great prose writer, that i prefer to consider him. here he is certainly one of the most permanent forces in our literature. _rasselas_, for example, while never ranking with us moderns quite so high as it did with the excellent miss jenkins in _cranford_, is a never failing delight. so far from being a dead book, is there a young man or a young woman setting out in the world of to-day, aspiring to an all-round literary cultivation, who is not required to know it? it has been republished continually. what novelist of our time would not give much to have so splendid a public recognition as was provided when lord beaconsfield, then mr. disraeli, after the abyssinian expedition, pictured in the house of commons "the elephants of asia dragging the artillery of europe over the mountains of rasselas." equally in evidence are those wonderful _lives of the poets_ which johnson did not complete until he was seventy-two years of age, literary efforts which have always seemed to me to be an encouraging demonstration that we should never allow ourselves to grow old. many of these 'lives' are very beautiful. they are all suggestive. only the other day i read them again in the fine new edition that was prepared by that staunch johnsonian, dr. birkbeck hill. the greatest english critic of these latter days, mr. matthew arnold, showed his appreciation by making a selection from them for popular use. from age to age every man with the smallest profession of interest in literature will study them. of how many books can this be said? greatest of all was johnson as a writer in his least premeditated work, his _prayers and meditations_. they take rank in my mind with the very best things of their kind, _the meditations of marcus aurelius_, _the confessions of rousseau_, and similar books. they are healthier than any of their rivals. william cowper, that always fascinating poet and beautiful letter writer, more than once disparaged johnson in this connexion. cowper said that he would like to have "dusted johnson's jacket until his pension rattled in his pocket," for what he had said about milton. he read some extracts, after johnson's death, from the _meditations_, and wrote contemptuously of them. { } but if cowper had always possessed, in addition to his fascinating other-worldliness the healthy worldliness of dr. johnson, perhaps we should all have been the happier. to me that collection of _prayers and meditations_ seems one of the most helpful books that i have ever read, and i am surprised that it is not constantly reprinted in a handy form. { } it is a valuable inspiration to men to keep up their spirits under adverse conditions, to conquer the weaknesses of their natures; not in the stifling manner of thomas a kempis, but in a breezy, robust way. yes, i think that these three works, _rasselas_, _the lives of the poets_, and the _prayers and meditations_, make it quite clear that johnson still holds his place as one of our greatest writers, even if we were not familiar with his many delightful letters, and had not read his _rambler_--which his old enemy, miss anna seward, insisted was far better than addison's _spectator_. all this is only to say that we cannot have too much of dr. johnson. the advantage of such a gathering as this is that it helps us to keep that fact alive. moreover, i feel that it is a good thing if we can hearten those who have devoted themselves to laborious research connected with such matters. take, for example, the work of dr. birkbeck hill: his many volumes are a delight to the johnson student. i knew dr. hill very well, and i have often felt that his work did not receive half the encouragement that it deserved. we hear sometimes, at least in london, of authors who advertise themselves. i rather fancy that all such advertisement is monopolized by the novelist, and that the newspapers do not trouble themselves very much about literary men who work in other fields than that of fiction. fiction has much to be said for it, but as a rule it reaps its reward very promptly, both in finance and in fame. no such rewards come to the writer of biography, to the writer of history, to the literary editor. dr. hill's beautiful edition of boswell's _life_, with all its fascinating annotation, did not reach a second edition in his lifetime. i am afraid that the sum that he made out of it, or that his publishers made out of it, would seem a very poor reward indeed when gauged by the results in other fields of labour. within the past few weeks i have had the privilege of reading a book that continues these researches. mr. aleyn lyell reade has published a handsome tome, which he has privately printed, entitled _dr. johnson's ancestry_: _his kinsfolk and family connexions_. i am glad to hear that the johnson museum has purchased a copy, for such a work deserves every encouragement. the author must have spent hundreds of pounds, without the faintest possibility of obtaining either fame or money from the transaction. he seems to have employed copyists in every town in staffordshire, to copy wills, registers of births and deaths, and kindred records from the past. now dr. birkbeck hill could not have afforded to do this; he was by no means a rich man. mr. reade has clearly been able to spare no expense, with the result that here are many interesting facts corrective of earlier students. the whole is a valuable record of the ancestry of dr. johnson. it shows clearly that whereas dr. johnson thought very little of his ancestry, and scarcely knew anything of his grandfather on the paternal or the maternal side, he really sprang from a very remarkable stock, notably on the maternal side; and that his mother's family, the fords, had among their connexions all kinds of fairly prosperous people, clergymen, officials, professional men as well as sturdy yeomen. these ancestors of dr. johnson did not help him much to push his way in the world. of some of them he had scarcely heard. all the same it is of great interest to us to know this; it in a manner explains him. that before samuel johnson was born, one of his family had been lord mayor of london, another a sheriff, that they had been associated in various ways, not only with the city of his birth, but also with the great city which johnson came to love so much, is to let in a flood of fresh light upon our hero. my time does not permit me to do more than make a passing reference to this book, but i should like to offer here a word of thanks to its author for his marvellous industry, and a word of congratulation to him for the extraordinary success that has accrued to his researches. i mention mr. reade's book because it is full of lichfield names and lichfield associations, and it is with dr. johnson's life-long connexion with lichfield that all of us are thinking to-night. now here i may say, without any danger of being challenged by some visitor who has the misfortune not to be a citizen of lichfield--you who are will not wish to challenge me--that this city has distinguished itself in quite an unique way. i do not believe that it can be found that any other town or city of england--i will not say of scotland or of ireland--has done honour to a literary son in the same substantial measure that lichfield has done honour to samuel johnson. the peculiar glory of the deed is that it was done to the living johnson, not coming, as so many honours do, too late for a man to find pleasure in the recognition. we know that-- seven wealthy towns contend for homer dead, through which the living homer begged his bread. but i doubt whether in the whole history of literature in england it can be found that any other purely literary man has received in his lifetime so substantial a mark of esteem from the city which gave him birth, as johnson did when your corporation, in , "at a common-hall of the bailiffs and citizens, without any solicitation," presented him with the ninety-nine years' lease of the house in which he was born. your citizens not only did that for johnson, but they gave him other marks of their esteem. he writes from lichfield to sir joshua reynolds to express his pleasure that his portrait has been "much visited and much admired." "every man," he adds, "has a lurking desire to appear considerable in his native place." then we all remember boswell's naive confession that his pleasure at finding his hero so much beloved led him, when the pair arrived at this very hostelry, to imbibe too much of the famous lichfield ale. if boswell wished, as he says, to offer incense to the spirit of the place, how much more may we desire to do so to-night, when exactly years have passed, and his hero is now more than ever recognized as a king of men. i do not suggest that we should honour johnson in quite the same way that boswell did. this is a more abstemious age. but we must drink to his memory all the same. think of it. a century and a quarter have passed since that memorable evening at the _three crowns_, when johnson and boswell thus foregathered in this very room. you recall the journey from birmingham of the two companions. "we are getting out of a state of death," the doctor said with relief, as he approached his native city, feeling all the magic and invigoration that is said to come to those who in later years return to "calf-land." then how good he was to an old schoolfellow who called upon him here. the fact that this man had failed in the battle of life while johnson had succeeded, only made the doctor the kinder. i know of no more human picture than that--"a mr. jackson," as he is called by boswell, "in his coarse grey coat," obviously very poor, and as boswell suggests, "dull and untaught." the "great cham of literature" listens patiently as the worthy jackson tells his troubles, so much more patiently than he would have listened to one of the famous men of his club in london, and the hero-worshipping boswell drinks his deep potations, but never neglects to take notes the while. of boswell one remembers further that johnson had told wilkes that he had brought him to lichfield, "my native city," "that he might see for once real civility--for you know he lives among savages in scotland, and among rakes in london." all good stories are worth hearing again and again, and so i offer an apology for recalling the picture to your mind at this time and in this place. alas! i have not the gift of the worldfamed lord verulam, who, as francis bacon, sat in the house of commons. the members, we are told, so delighted in his oratory that when he rose to speak they "were fearful lest he should make an end." i am making an end. johnson then was not only a great writer, a conversationalist so unique that his sayings have passed more into current speech than those of any other englishman, but he was also a great moralist--a superb inspiration to a better life. we should not love johnson so much were he not presented to us as a man of many weaknesses and faults akin to our own, not a saint by any means, and therefore not so far removed from us as some more ethereal characters of whom we may read. johnson striving to methodize his life, to fight against sloth and all the minor vices to which he was prone, is the johnson whom some of us prefer to keep ever in mind. "here was," i quote carlyle, "a strong and noble man, one of our great english souls." i love him best in his book called _prayers and meditations_, where we know him as we know scarcely any other englishman, for the good, upright fighter in this by no means easy battle of life. it is as such a fighter that we think of him to-night. reading the account of _his_ battles may help us to fight ours. gentlemen, i give you the toast of the evening. let us drink in solemn silence, upstanding, "the immortal memory of dr. samuel johnson." ii. to the immortal memory of william cowper an address entitled 'the sanity of cowper,' delivered at the centenary celebration at olney, bucks, on the occasion of the hundredth anniversary of the death of the poet william cowper, april , . i owe some apology for coming down to olney to take part in what i believe is a purely local celebration, in which no other londoner, as far as i know, has been asked to take part. i am here not because i profess any special qualification to speak about cowper, in the town with which his name is so pleasantly associated, but because mr. mackay, { } the son-in-law of your vicar, has written a book about the brontes, and i have done likewise, and he asked me to come. this common interest has little, you will say, to do with the poet of olney. between cowper and charlotte bronte there were, however, not a few points of likeness or at least of contrast. both were the children of country clergymen; both lived lives of singular and, indeed, unusual strenuousness; both were the very epitome of a strong protestantism; and yet both--such is the inevitable toleration of genius--were drawn in an unusual manner to attachment to friends of the roman catholic church--cowper to lady throckmorton, who copied out some of his translations from homer for him, assisted by her father-confessor, dr. gregson, and miss bronte to her professor, m. heger, the man in the whole world whom she most revered. under circumstances of peculiar depression both these great protestant writers went further on occasion than their protestant friends would have approved, cowper to contemplate--so he assures us in one of his letters--the entering a french monastery, and miss bronte actually to kneel in the confessional in a brussels church. further, let me remind you that there were moments in the lives of charlotte bronte and her sisters, when cowper's poem, _the castaway_, was their most soul-stirring reading. then, again, mary unwin's only daughter became the wife of a vicar of dewsbury, and it was at dewsbury and to the very next vicar, that mr. bronte, the father of charlotte, was curate when he first went into yorkshire. finally, let it be recalled that cowper and charlotte bronte have attracted as much attention by the pathos of their lives as by anything that they wrote. thus far, and no further, can a strained analogy carry us. the most enthusiastic admirers of the brontes can only claim for them that they permanently added certain artistic treasures to our literature. cowper did incomparably more than this. his work marked an epoch. but first let me say how interested we who are strangers naturally feel in being in olney. to every lover of literature olney is made classic ground by the fact that cowper spent some twenty years of his life in it--not always with too genial a contemplation of the place and its inhabitants. "the genius of cowper throws a halo of glory over all the surroundings of olney and weston," says dean burgon. but olney has claims apart from cowper. john newton { } presents himself to me as an impressive personality. there was a time, indeed, of youthful impetuosity when i positively hated him, for southey, whose biography i read very early in life, certainly endeavours to assist the view that newton was largely responsible for the poet's periodical attacks of insanity. but a careful survey of the facts modifies any such impression. newton was narrow at times, he was over-concerned as to the letter, often ignoring the spirit of true piety, but the student of the two volumes of his _life and correspondence_ that we owe to josiah bull, will be compelled to look at "the old african blasphemer" as he called himself, with much of sympathy. that he had a note of tolerance, with which he is not usually credited, we learn from one of his letters, where he says: i am willing to be a debtor to the wise and to the unwise, to doctors and shoemakers, if i can get a hint from any one without respect of parties. when a house is on fire churchmen and dissenters, methodists and papists, moravians and mystics are all welcome to bring water. at such times nobody asks, "pray, friend, whom do you hear?" or "what do you think of the five points?" even my good friend canon benham, who has done so much to sustain the honourable fame of cowper, and who would have been here to-day but for a long-standing engagement, is scarcely fair to newton. { } it is not true, as has been suggested, that cowper always changed his manner into one of painful sobriety when he wrote to newton. one of his most humorous letters--a rhyming epistle--was addressed to that divine. i have writ (he says) in a rhyming fit, what will make you dance, and as you advance, will keep you still, though against your will, dancing away, alert and gay, till you come to an end of what i have penned; which you may do ere madam and you are quite worn out with jigging about, i take my leave, and here you receive a bow profound, down to the ground, from your humble me, w. c. now, i quote this very familiar passage from the correspondence to remind you that cowper could only have written it to a man possessed of considerable healthy geniality. at any rate, alike as a divine and as the author of the _olney hymns_, newton holds an important place in the history of theology, and olney has a right to be proud of him. an even more important place is held by thomas scott, { } and it seems to me quite a wonderful thing that olney should sometimes have held at one and the same moment three such remarkable men as cowper, newton, and scott. in my boyhood scott's name was a household word, and many a time have i thumbed the volumes of his _commentaries_, those _commentaries_ which sir james stephen declared to be "the greatest theological performance of our age and country." of scott cardinal newman in his _apologia_ said, it will be remembered, that "to him, humanly speaking, i almost owe my soul." even here our literary associations with olney and its neighbourhood are not ended, for, it was within five miles of this town--at easton maudit--that bishop percy { } lived and prepared those _reliques_ which have inspired a century of ballad literature. here the future bishop of dromore was visited by dr. johnson and others. what a pity that with only five miles separating them cowper and johnson should never have met! would cowper have reconsidered the wish made when he read johnson's biography of milton in the _lives of the poets_: "oh! i could thresh his old jacket till i made his pension jingle in his pocket!"? but it is with cowper only that we have here to do, and when we are talking of cowper the difficulty is solely one of compression. so much has been written about him and his work. the lives of him form of themselves a most substantial library. he has been made the subject of what is surely the very worst biography in the language and of one that is among the very best. the well-meaning hayley { a} wrote the one, in which the word "tenderness" appears at least twice on every page, and southey { b} the other. not less fortunate has the poet been in his critics. walter bagehot, james russell lowell, mrs. oliphant, george eliot { c}--these are but a few of the names that occur to me as having said something wise and to the point concerning the poet of olney. i somehow feel that it is safer for me to refer to the poet of olney than to speak of william cowper, because i am not quite sure how you would wish me to pronounce his name. _cooper_, he himself pronounced it, as his family are in the habit of doing. the present lord cowper is known to all the world as lord cooper. the derivation of the name and the family coat-of-arms justify that pronunciation, and it might be said that a man was, and is, entitled to settle the question of the pronunciation of his own name. and yet i plead for what i am quite willing to allow is the incorrect pronunciation. all pronunciation, even of the simplest words, is settled finally by a consensus of custom. throughout the english-speaking world the name is now constantly pronounced cowper, as if that most useful and ornamental animal the cow had given it its origin. well-read scotland is peculiarly unanimous in the custom, and well-read america follows suit. william shakspere, i doubt not, called himself shaxspere, and we decline to imitate him, and so probably many of us will with a light heart go on speaking of william cowper to the end of the chapter. at any rate shakspere and cowper, divergent as were their lives and their work--and one readily recognizes the incomparably greater position of the former--had alike a keen sense of humour, rare among poets it would seem, and hugely would they both have enjoyed such a controversy as this. this suggestion of the humour of cowper brings me to my main point. humour is so essentially a note of sanity, and it is the sanity of cowper that i desire to emphasize here. we have heard too much of the insanity of cowper, of the "maniac's tongue" to which mrs. browning referred, of the "maniacal calvinist" of whom byron wrote somewhat scornfully. only a day or two ago i read in a high-class journal that "one fears that cowper's despondency and madness are better known to-day than his poetry." that is not to know the secret of cowper. it is true that there were periods of maniacal depression, and these were not always religious ones. now, it was from sheer nervousness at the prospect of meeting his fellows, now it was from a too logical acceptance of the doctrine of eternal punishment. had it not been these, it would have been something else. it might have been politics, or a hundred things that now and again give a twist to the mind of the wisest. with cowper it was generally religion. i am not here to promote a paradox. i accept the only too well-known story of cowper's many visitations, but, looking back a century, for the purpose of asking what was cowper's contribution to the world's happiness and why we meet to speak of our love for him to- day, i insist that these visitations are not essential to our memory of him as a great figure in our literature--the maker of an epoch. cowper lived for some seventy years--sixty-nine, to be exact. of these years there was a period longer than the full term of byron's life, of shelley's or of keats's, of perfect sanity, and it was in this period that he gave us what is one of the sanest achievements in our literature, view it as we may. let us look backwards over the century--a century which has seen many changes of which cowper had scarcely any vision--the wonders of machinery and of electricity, of commercial enterprise, of the newspaper press, of book production. the galloping postboy is the most persistent figure in cowper's landscape. he has been replaced by the motor car. nations have arisen and fallen; a thousand writers have become popular and have ceased to be remembered. other writers have sprung up who have made themselves immortal. burns and byron, coleridge and wordsworth, scott and shelley among the poets. we ask ourselves, then, what distinctly differentiates cowper's life from that of his brothers in poetry, and i reply--his sanity. he did not indulge in vulgar amours, as did burns and byron; he did not ruin his moral fibre by opium, as did coleridge; he did not shock his best friends by an over-weening egotism, as did wordsworth; he did not spoil his life by reckless financial complications, as did scott; or by too great an enthusiasm to beat down the world's conventions, as did shelley. i do not here condemn any one or other of these later poets. their lives cannot be summed up in the mistakes they made. i only urge that, as it is not good to be at warfare with your fellows, to be burdened with debts that you have to kill yourself to pay, to alienate your friends by distressing mannerisms, to cease to be on speaking terms with your family--therefore cowper, who avoided these things, and, out of threescore years and more allotted to him, lived for some forty or fifty years at least a quiet, idyllic life, surrounded by loyal and loving friends, had chosen the saner and safer path. that, it may be granted, was very much a matter of temperament, and for it one does not need to praise him. the appeal to us of robert burns to gently scan our brother man will necessarily find a ready acceptance to-day, and a plea on behalf of kindly toleration for any great writer who has inspired his fellows is natural and honourable. but cowper does not require any such kindly toleration. his temperament led him to a placid life, where there were few temptations, and that life with its quiet walks, its occasional drives, its simple recreations, has stood for a whole century as our english ideal. it is what, amid the strain of the severest commercialism in our great cities, we look forward to for our declining years as a haven on this side of the grave. but i have undertaken to plead for cowper's sanity. i desire, therefore, to beg you to look not at this or that episode in his life, when, as we know, cowper was in the clutches of evil spirits, but at his life as a whole--a life of serene contentment in the company of his friends, his hares puss, tiny and bess, his "eight pair of tame pigeons," his correspondents; and then i ask you to turn to his work, and to note the essential sanity of that work also. first there is his poetry. when after the bastille had fallen charles james fox quoted in one of his speeches cowper's lines--written long years before--praying that that event might occur, he paid an unconscious tribute to the sanity of cowper's genius. { } few poets who have let their convictions and aspirations find expression in verse have come so near the mark. wordsworth's verse--that which was written at the same age--is studded with prophecy of evils that never occurred. it was not because of any supermundane intelligence, such as latter-day poets have been pleased to affect and latter-day critics to assume for them, that cowper wrote in anticipation of the fall of the bastille in those thrilling lines, but because his exceedingly sane outlook upon the world showed him that france was riding fast towards revolution. we have been told that cowper's poetry lacked the true note of passion, that there was an absence of the "lyric cry." i protest that i find the note of passion in the "lines on the receipt of my mother's picture," in his two sets of verses to mrs. unwin, in his sonnet to wilberforce not less marked than i find it in other great poets. i find in _the task_ and elsewhere in cowper's works a note of enthusiasm for human brotherhood, for man's responsibility for man, for universal kinship, that had scarcely any place in literature before he wrote quietly here at olney thoughts wiser and saner than he knew. to-day we call ourselves by many names, conservatives or liberals, radicals, or socialists; we differ widely as to ways and means; but we are all practically agreed about one thing--that the art of politics is the art of making the world happier. each politician who has any aspirations beyond mere ambition desires to leave the world a little better than he found it. this is a commonplace of to-day. it was not a commonplace of cowper's day. even the great- hearted, lovable dr. johnson was only concerned with the passing act of kindliness to his fellows; patriotism he declared to be the last refuge of a scoundrel; collective aspiration was mere charlatanry in his eyes, and when some one said that he had lost his appetite because of a british defeat, johnson thought him an impostor, in which johnson was probably right. there have been plenty of so-called patriots who were scoundrels, there has been plenty of affectation of sentiment which is little better than charlatanry, but we do not consider when we weigh the influence of men whether rousseau was morally far inferior to johnson. we know that he was. but rousseau, poor an instrument as he may have been, helped to break many a chain, to relieve many a weary heart, to bring to whole peoples a new era in which the horrors of the past became as a nightmare, and in which ideals were destined to reign for ever. cowper, an incomparably better man than rousseau, helped to permeate england with that collective sentiment, which, while it does not excuse us for neglecting our neighbour, is a good thing for preserving for nations a healthy natural life, a more and more difficult task with the growing complications of commercialism. cowper here, as i say, unconsciously performed his greatest service to humanity; and it was performed, be it remembered, at olney. it has been truly said that in cowper:-- the poetry of human wrong begins, that long, long cry against oppression and evil done by man to man, against the political, moral, or priestly tyrant, which rings louder and louder through burns, coleridge, shelley, and byron, ever impassioned, ever longing, ever prophetic--never, in the darkest time, quite despairing. { } and cowper achieved this without losing sight for one moment of the essential necessity for personal worth: spend all thy powers of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise, be most sublimely good, verbosely grand, and it profiteth nothing, he said in effect. that was not his only service as a citizen. he struck the note of honest patriotism as it had not been struck before since milton, by the familiar lines commencing: england, with all thy faults, i love thee still, my country! as also in that stirring ballad "on the loss of the _royal george_:" her timbers yet are sound, and she may float again, full charged with england's thunder, and plough the distant main. there are two other great claims that might here be made for cowper did time allow, that he anticipated wordsworth alike as a lover of nature, as one who had more than a superficial affection for it--the superficial affection of thomson and gray--and that he anticipated wordsworth also as a lover of animal life. cowper's love of nature was the less effective than wordsworth's only, surely, in that he had not had wordsworth's advantage of living amid impressive scenery. his love of animal life was far less platonic than wordsworth's. to his hares and his pigeons and all dumb creatures he was genuinely devoted. perhaps it was because he had in him the blood of kings--for, curiously enough, it is no more difficult to trace the genealogical tree of both cowper and byron down to william the conqueror than it is to trace the genealogical tree of queen victoria--it was perhaps, i say, this descent from kings which led him to be more tolerant of "sport" than was wordsworth. at any rate, cowper's vigorous description of being in at the death of a fox may be contrasted with wordsworth's "heart leap well," and you will prefer cowper or wordsworth, as your tastes are for or against our old-fashioned english sports. but even then, as often, cowper in his poetry was less tolerant than in his prose, for he writes in _the task_ of: detested sport that owes its pleasures to another's pain, we may note in all this the almost entire lack of indebtedness in cowper to his predecessors. one of his most famous phrases, indeed, that on "the cup that cheers, but not inebriates," he borrowed from berkeley; but his borrowings were few, far fewer than those of any other great poet, whereas mine would be a long essay were i to produce by the medium of parallel columns all that other poets have borrowed from him. lastly, among cowper's many excellencies as a poet let me note his humour. his pathos, his humanity--many fine qualities he has in common with others; but what shall we say of his humour? if the ubiquitous scot were present, so far from his native heath--and i daresay we have one or two with us--he might claim that humour was also the prerogative of robert burns. he might claim, also, that certain other great characteristics of cowper were to be found almost simultaneously in burns. there is virtue in the _almost_. cowper was born in , burns in . at any rate humour has been a rare product among the greater english poets. it was entirely absent in wordsworth, in shelley, in keats. byron possessed a gift of satire and wit, but no humour, tennyson only a suspicion of it in "the northern farmer." from cowper to browning, who also had it at times, there has been little humour in the greatest english poetry, although plenty of it in the lesser poets--hood and the rest. but there was in cowper a great sense of humour, as there was also plenty of what hazlitt, almost censoriously, calls "elegant trifling." not only in the imperishable "john gilpin," but in the "case between nose and eyes," "the nightingale and glow-worm," and other pieces you have examples of humorous verse which will live as long as our language endures. cowper's claims as a poet, then, may be emphasized under four heads:-- i. his enthusiasm for humanity. ii. his love of nature. iii. his love of animal life. iv. his humour. and in three of these, let it be said emphatically, he stands out as the creator of a new era. there is another claim i make for him, and with this i close--his position as a master of prose, as well as of poetry. cowper was the greatest letter-writer in a language which has produced many great letter- writers--walpole, gray, byron, scott, fitzgerald, and a long list. but nearly all these men were men of affairs, of action. given a good literary style they could hardly have been other than interesting, they had so much to say that they gained from external sources. even fitzgerald--the one recluse--had all the treasures of literature constantly passing into his study. cowper had but eighteen books altogether during many of his years in olney, and some of us who have lent our volumes in the past and are still sighing over gaps in our shelves find consolation in the fact that six of cowper's books had been returned to him after a friend had borrowed for twenty years or so. now, it is comparatively easy to write good letters with a library around you; it is marvellous that cowper could have done this with so little material, and his letters are, from this point of view, the best of all--"divine chit-chat" coleridge called them. his simple style captivates us. and here let me say--keeping to my text--that it is the _sanest_ of styles, a style with no redundancies, no rhetoric, no straining after effect. the outlook on life is sane--what could be finer than the chase for the lost hare, or the call of the parliamentary candidate, or the flogging of the thief?--and the outlook on literature is particularly sane. cowper was well-nigh the only true poet in the first rank in english literature who was at the same time a true critic. literary history affords a singular revelation of the wild and incoherent judgments of their fellows on the part of the poets. for praise or blame, there are few literary judgments of byron, of shelley, of wordsworth that will stand. coleridge was a critic first, and his poetry, though good, is small in quantity, and the same may be said of matthew arnold. tennyson discreetly kept away from prose, and his letters, be it remembered, lack distinction as do most letters of the nineteenth century. if, however, as we are really to believe, he it was who really made the first edition of palgrave's _golden treasury of lyric poetry_, he came near to cowper in his sanity of judgment, and one delights to think that in that precious volume cowper ranks third--that is, after shakspere and wordsworth--in the number of selections that are there given, and rightly given, as imperishable masterpieces of english poetry. tennyson, also, was at one with cowper in declaring that an appreciation of _lycidas_ was a touchstone of taste for poetry. to tennyson, as to cowper, milton was the one great english poet after shakspere; and here, also, we revere the saneness of view. more sane too, was cowper than any of the modern critics, in that he did not believe that mere technique was the standpoint from which all poetry must ultimately be judged. "give me," he says, "a manly rough line with a deal of meaning in it, rather than a whole poem full of musical periods, that have nothing in them, only smoothness to recommend them!" and thus he justified robert browning and many another singer. let us then dismiss from our minds the one-sided picture of cowper as a gloomy fanatic, who was always asking himself in carlylian phrase, "am i saved? am i damned?" let us remember him as staunch to the friends of his youth, sympathetic to his old schoolfellow, warren hastings, when the world would make him out too black. opposed in theory to tobacco, how he delighted to welcome his good friend mr. bull. "my greenhouse," he says, "wants only the flavour of your pipe to make it perfectly delightful!" naturally tolerant of total abstinence, he asks one friend to drink to the success of his homer, and thanks another for a present of bottle-stands. from beginning to end, save in those periods of aberration, there is no more resemblance to cowper in the picture that certain narrow-minded people have desired to portray than there is in these same people's conception of martin luther. the real luther, who loved dancing and mirth and the joy of living as much as did any of the men he so courageously opposed, was not more remote from a conception of him once current in this country than was the real cowper--the frank, genial humorist, who wrote "john gilpin," who in his youth "giggled and made giggle" with his girl-cousins, and in his maturer years "laughed and made laugh" with lady austen and lady hesketh. to all men there are periods of weariness and depression, side by side with periods of happiness and hopefulness. cowper, alas! had more than his share of the tragedy of life, but let us not forget that he had some of its joy, and that joy is reflected for us in a substantial literary achievement, which has lived, and influenced the world, while his more tragic experiences may well be buried in oblivion. this, you may have noted, is not a criticism of cowper, but an eulogy. i would wish to say, however, that the criticism of cowper by living writers has been of surpassing excellence. for the first fifty or sixty years of the century that we are recalling cowper was the most popular poet of our country, with burns and byron for rivals. he has been largely dethroned by wordsworth and shelley, and tennyson, not one of whom has been praised too much. but if cowper has sunk somewhat out of sight of late years, owing to inevitable circumstances, it is during these late years that he has secured the goodwill of the best living critics. would that mr. leslie stephen { }--who wrote his life in the _dictionary of national biography_--would that mr. edmund gosse--who has so recently published a great biography of cowper's memorable ancestor, dr. donne--were, one or other of them, here to-day; or mr. austin dobson, who has visited olney, and described his impressions; or dr. jessopp, who lives near cowper's tomb in east dereham church. these writers are, alas! not with us, and some presentment of a poet they love has fallen to less capable hands. but not the most brilliant of speeches, not all the enthusiasm of all the critics, can ever restore cowper to his former immense popularity. we do well, however, to celebrate his centenary, because it is good at certain periods to remember our indebtedness to the great men who have helped us in literature or in life. but that is not to say that we work for the dethronement of later favourites. "each age must write its own books," says emerson, and this is particularly the case with the great body of poetry. cowper, however, will live to all time among students of literature by his longer poems; he will live to all time among the multitude by his ballads and certain of his lyrics. he will, assuredly, live by his letters, to study which will be a thousand times more helpful to the young writer than many volumes of addison, to whom we were once advised to devote our days and our nights. cowper will live, above all, as a profoundly interesting and beautiful personality, as a great and good englishman--the greatest of all the sons of this his adopted town. iii. to the immortal memory of george borrow an address delivered in norwich on the occasion of the borrow centenary, . one hundred years ago there was born some two miles from the pleasant little town of east dereham, in this county, a child who was christened george henry borrow. that is why we are assembled here this evening. i count it one of the most interesting coincidences in literary history that only three years earlier there should have left the world in the same little town--a town only known perhaps to those of us who are norfolk men--a poet who has always seemed to me to be one of the greatest glories of our literature: i mean william cowper. cowper died in april, , and borrow was born in july, , in this same town of east dereham: and there very much it might be thought, any point of likeness or of contrast must surely end. cowper and borrow do, indeed, come into some trivial kind of kinship at one or two points. in reading cowper's beautiful letters i have come across two addressed by him to one richard phillips, a bookseller of that day, who had been in prison for publishing some of thomas paine's works. cowper had been asked by phillips to write a sympathetic poem denunciatory of the political and religious tyranny that had sent phillips to jail. cowper had at first agreed, but was afterwards advised not to have anything more to do with phillips. judging by the after career of phillips, cowper did wisely; for phillips was not a good man, although twenty years later he had become a sheriff of london and was knighted. as sir richard phillips he was visited by george borrow, then a youth at the beginning of his career. borrow came to phillips armed with an introduction from william taylor of norwich, and his reception is most dramatically recorded in the pages of _lavengro_. this is, however, to anticipate. then there is a poem by cowper to sir john fenn { } the antiquary, the first editor of the famous _paston letters_. in it there is a reference to fenn's spouse, who, under the pseudonym of "mrs. teachwell," wrote many books for children in her day. now borrow could remember this lady--dame eleanor fenn--when he was a boy. he recalled the "lady bountiful leaning on her gold-headed cane, while the sleek old footman followed at a respectful distance behind." lady fenn was forty- six years old when cowper referred to her. she was sixty-six when the boy borrow saw her in dereham streets. at no other points do these great east dereham writers come upon common ground: cowper during the greater part of his life was a recluse. he practically fled from the world. in reading the many letters he wrote--and they are among the best letters in the english language--one is struck by the small number of his correspondents. he had few acquaintances and still fewer friends. he had never seen a hill until he was sixty, and then it was only the modest hills of sussex that seemed to him so supremely glorious. he was never on the continent. for half a lifetime he did not move out of one county, the least picturesque part of buckinghamshire, the neighbourhood of olney and of weston. there he wrote the poems that have been a delight to several generations, poems which although they may have gone out of fashion with many are still very dear to some among us; and there, as i have said, he wrote the incomparable letters that have an equally permanent place in literature. you could not conceive a more extraordinary contrast than the life of this other writer associated with east dereham, whom we have met to celebrate this evening. george borrow was the son of a soldier, who had risen from the ranks, and of a mother who had been an actress. soldier and actress both imply to all of us a restless, wandering life. the soldier was a cornishman by birth, the actress was of french origin, and so you have blended in this little norfolk boy--who is a norfolk boy in spite of it all--every kind of nomadic habit, every kind of fiery, imaginative enthusiasm, a temperament not usually characteristic of those of us who claim east anglia as the land of our birth or of our progenitors. i wish it were possible for me to reconstruct that norwich world into which young george borrow entered at thirteen years of age. that it was a norwich of great intellectual activity is indisputable. in the year of borrow's birth john gurney, who died six years later, first became a partner in the norwich bank. his more famous son, joseph john gurney--aged fifteen--left the earlham home in order to study at oxford. his sister, the still more famous elizabeth fry, was now twenty-three. so that when borrow, the thirteen year old son of the veteran soldier--who had already been in ireland picking up scraps of irish, and in scotland adding to his knowledge of gaelic--settled down for some of his most impressionable years in norwich, joseph john gurney was a young man of twenty-eight and elizabeth fry was thirty-six. dr. james martineau was eleven years of age and his sister harriet was fourteen. another equally clever woman, not then married to austin, the famous jurist, was sarah taylor, aged twenty-three. this is but to name a few of the crowd of norwich worthies of that day. would that some one could produce a picture of the literary life of norwich of this time and of a quarter of a century onward--a period that includes the famous bishop stanley's { } occupancy of the see of norwich and the visits to this city from all parts of england of a great number of famous literary men. it is my pleasant occupation to-night to endeavour to show that borrow, the very least of these men and women in public estimation for a good portion of his life, and perhaps the least in popular judgment even since his death, was really the greatest, was really the man of all others to whom this beautiful city should do honour if it asks for a name out of its nineteenth century history to crown with local recognition. for whatever homage may have fallen to borrow during the half-century or more since his name first came upon many tongues norwich, it must be admitted, has given very little of it. no one associated with your city, i repeat, but has heard of the gurneys and the martineaus, of the stanleys and the austins, whose life stories have made so large a part of your literary and intellectual history during this very period. but i turn in vain to a number of books that i have in my library for any information concerning one who is indisputably the greatest among the intellectual children of norwich. i turn to mr. prothero's _life of dean stanley_--not one word about borrow; to that pleasant _memoir_ of sarah austin and her mother, mrs. taylor, called _three generations of a norfolk family_--again not one word. i turn to mr. braithwaite's biography of joseph john gurney, and to mr. augustus hare's book _the gurneys of earlham_--upon these worthy biographers borrow made no impression whatever, although joseph john gurney was personally helpful to him and we read in _lavengro_ of that pleasant meeting between the pair on the river bank when mr. gurney chided the boy borrow or lavengro for angling. "from that day," he says, "i became less and less a practitioner of that cruel fishing." in harriet martineau's _autobiography_, which enjoyed its hour of fame when it was published twenty-six years ago, there is a contemptuous reference to the disciple of william taylor, "this polyglot gentleman, who went through spain disseminating bibles." if miss martineau were alive now she would hear the works of "this polyglot gentleman" praised on every hand, and would find that a cult had arisen which to her would certainly be quite incomprehensible. in that large, dismal book--the _life of james martineau_, again, there is but one mention of dr. martineau's famous schoolfellow whose name has been linked with him only by a silly story. do not let it be thought that i am complaining of this neglect; the world will always treat its greatest writers in precisely this fashion. borrow did not lack for fame of a kind, but he was, as i desire to show, praised in his lifetime for the wrong thing, where he was praised at all. everyone in the fifties and sixties read _the bible in spain_, as they read a hundred other books of that period, now forgotten. many read it who were deceived by its title. they expected a tract. many read it as we to-day read the latest novel or biography of the hour. then a new book arises and the momentary favourite is forgotten. we think for a whole week that we are in contact with a well-nigh immortal work. a little later we concern ourselves not at all whether the book is immortal or not. we go on to something else. the critic is as much to blame as the reader. not one man in a hundred whose profession it is to come between the author and the public, and to guide the reader to the best in literature, has the least perception of what is good literature. it is easy when a writer has captured the suffrages of the crowd for the critic to tell the world that he is great. that happened to carlyle, to tennyson, to many a popular author whose earliest books commanded little attention: but, happily, these writers did not lose heart. they kept on writing. borrow was otherwise made. he wrote _the bible in spain_--a book of travel of surprising merit. it sold largely on its title. mr. augustine birrell has told us that he knew a boy in a very strict household who devoured the narrative on sunday afternoons, the title being thought to cover a conventional missionary journey. well, when i was a boy _the bible in spain_ had gone out of fashion and the public had not taken up with the author's greater work, _lavengro_. borrow was naturally disappointed. he abused the critics and the public. perhaps he grew somewhat soured. he did not hesitate in _the romany rye_ to talk candidly about those "ill-favoured dogs . . . the newspaper editors," and he made the gentleman's gentleman of _lavengro_ describe how he was excluded from the servants' club in park lane because his master followed a profession "so mean as literature." in fact as a reaction from the unfriendly reception accorded to the _romany rye_--now one of the most costly of his books in a first edition--he lost heart, and he grew to despise the whole literary and writing class. hence the various stories presenting him in not very sympathetic guise, the story of thackeray being snubbed on asking borrow if he had read the _snob papers_, of miss agnes strickland receiving an even more forcible rebuff when she offered to send him her _queens of england_. "for god's sake don't madame; i should not know where to put them or what to do with them." these stories are in gordon hake's _memoirs of eighty years_, but mr. francis hindes groome has shown us the other side of the picture, and others also to whom i shall refer a little later have done the same. perhaps the literary class is never the worse for a little plain speaking. the real secret of borrow is this--that he was a man of action turned into a writer by force of circumstances. the life of borrow, unlike that of most famous men of letters, has not been overwritten. his death in caused little emotion and attracted but small attention in the newspapers. _the times_, then as now so excellent in its biographies as a rule, devoted but twenty lines to him. here i may be pardoned for being autobiographical. i was last in norwich in the early eighties. i had a wild enthusiasm for literature so far as my taste had been directed--that is to say i read every book i came across and had been doing so from my earliest boyhood. but i had never heard of george borrow or of his works. in my then not infrequent visits to norwich i cannot recall that his name was ever mentioned, and in my life in london, among men who were, many of them, great readers, i never heard of borrow or of his achievement. he died in , and as i do not recall hearing his name at the time of his death or until long afterwards, i must have missed certain articles in the _athenaeum_--two of them admirable "appreciations" by mr. watts-dunton--and so my state of benightedness was as i have described. it may be that those who are a year or two older than i am and those who are younger may find this extraordinary. you have always heard of borrow and of his works, but i think i am entitled to insist that when borrow sank into his grave, an old, and to many an eccentric and bitter man, he had fallen into the most curious oblivion with the public that has ever come to a man, i will not say of equal distinction, but of any distinction whatever. mr. egmont hake told the readers of the _athenaeum_ in a biography that appeared at the time of borrow's death that borrow's works were "forgotten in england" and i find in turning to the biography of borrow in _the norvicensian_, for --the organ of the norwich grammar school--that the writer of this obituary notice confessed that there were none of borrow's works in the library of the school of which borrow had been the most distinguished pupil. from that time--in --until , a period of eighteen years, borrow had but little biographical recognition. a few introductions to his books, sundry encyclopaedia articles, and one or two magazine essays made up the sum total of information concerning the author of _lavengro_ until dr. knapp's _life_ appeared in . that _life_ has been severely handled by some lovers of borrow, and lovers of borrow are now plentiful enough. dr. knapp had not the cunning of the really successful biographer. his book still remains in the huge two-volumed form in which it was first issued four years ago, and i do not anticipate that it will ever be a popular book. there is no literary art in it. there is a capacity for amassing facts, but no power of co-ordinating these facts. moreover dr. knapp did a great deal of mischief by very over-zeal. he made too great a research into all the current gossip in norfolk and suffolk concerning borrow. if you were to make special research into the life of any friend or acquaintance of the past you would hear much foolish gossip and a great many wrong motives imputed, and possibly you would not have an opportunity of checking the various statements. the whole of dr. knapp's book seems to be written upon the principle of "i would if i could" say a good many things, and, indeed, every few months there appears in the _eastern daily press_, a journal of your city that i have read every day regularly since boyhood, a letter from some one explaining that the less inquiry about this or that point in borrow's career the better for borrow. take, for example, last saturday's issue of the journal i have named, where i find the following from a correspondent:-- dr. knapp, from dictates of courtesy, left it unrevealed, and as he could say nothing to borrow's credit, passed the affair over in silence, and on this point all well-wishers of borrow's reputation would be wise to take their cue from this biographer's example. now there is nothing more damnatory than a sentence of this kind. what does it amount to? what is the 'it' that is unrevealed by the courteous dr. knapp? it seems to amount to the charge that borrow is accused of gibbeting in his books the people he dislikes; this is what every great imaginative writer has been charged with to the perplexing of dull people. there are many characters in dickens's novels which are supposed to be a presentation of near relatives or friends. these he ought to have treated with more kindliness. that heroic little woman, miss bronte, gave a picture of madame heger, who kept a school at brussels, that conveyed, i doubt not, a very mistaken presentation of the subject of her satire. imaginative writers have always taken these liberties. when the worst is said it simply amounts to this, that borrow was a good hater. dr. johnson said that he loved a good hater, and he might very well have loved borrow. dante, whom we all now agree to idolize, treated people even more roughly; he placed some of his acquaintances who had ill- used him in the very lowest circles of hell. may i express a hope, therefore, that this type of letter to the norwich newspapers about dr. knapp's "kindness" to borrow's reputation may cease. if dr. knapp had printed the whole of the facts we should know how to deal with them; but this is one of his limitations as a biographer. he has not in the least helped to a determination of borrow's real character. had borrow possessed a biographer so skilful with her pen as mrs. gaskell in her _life of charlotte bronte_, so keen-eyed for the dramatic note as sir george trevelyan in his _life of macaulay_, he would have multiplied readers for _lavengro_. there are many people who have read the bronte novels from sheer sympathy with the writers that their biographer, mrs. gaskell, had kindled. let us not, however, be ungrateful to dr. knapp. he has furnished those of us who are sufficiently interested in the subject with a fine collection of documents. here is all the material of biography in its crude state, but presenting vividly enough the live borrow to those who have the perception to read it with care and judgment. still more grateful may we be to dr. knapp for his edition of borrow's works, particularly for those wonderful episodes in _lavengro_ which he has reproduced from the original manuscript, episodes as dramatic as any other portion of the text, and making dr. knapp's edition of _lavengro_ the only possible one to possess. but to return to the main facts of borrow's career, which every one here at least is familiar with. you know of his birth at east dereham, of his life in ireland and in scotland, of his school days at norwich, of his departure from norwich to london on his father's death, of his dire struggles in the literary whirlpool, and of his wanderings in gipsy land. you know, thanks to dr. knapp, more than you could otherwise have learned of his life at st. petersburg, whither he had been sent by the bible society, on the recommendation of mr. joseph john gurney and another patron. then he has himself told us in picturesque fashion of his life in portugal and spain. after this we hear of his marriage to mary clarke, his residence from to at oulton, in suffolk, from to at yarmouth, from to in hereford square, london, and finally from to at oulton, where he died. that is the bare skeleton of borrow's life, and for half his life, i think, we should be content with a skeleton. for the other half of it we have the best autobiography in the english language. an autobiography that ranks with goethe's _truth and poetry from my life_ and rousseau's _confessions_. in four books--in _lavengro_, _romany rye_, _the bible in spain_, and _wild wales_ we have some delightful glimpses of an interesting personality, and here we may leave the personal side of borrow. beyond this we know that he was unquestionably a devoted son, a good husband, a kind father. the literary life has its perils, so far as domesticity is concerned. sir walter scott in his life of dryden speaks of:-- her who had to endure the apparently causeless fluctuation of spirits incidental to one compelled to dwell for long periods of time in the fitful realms of the imagination, and it is certain that those who dwell in the realms of the imagination are usually very irritable, very difficult to live with. literary history in its personal side is largely a dismal narrative of the uncomfortable relations of men of genius with their wives and with their families. your man of genius thinks himself bound to hang up his fiddle in his own house, however merry a fellow he may prove himself to a hundred boon companions outside. george borrow was perhaps the opposite of all this. as a companion and a neighbour he did not always shine, if the impression of many a witness is to be trusted. they tell anecdotes of his lack of cordiality, of his unsociability, and so on. they have told those anecdotes more industriously in norwich than anywhere else. he himself in an incomparable account of going to church with the gypsies in _the romany rye_ has the following: it appeared as if i had fallen asleep in the pew of the old church of pretty dereham. i had occasionally done so when a child, and had suddenly woke up. yes, surely, i had been asleep and had woke up; but no! if i had been asleep i had been waking in my sleep, struggling, striving, learning and unlearning in my sleep. years had rolled away whilst i had been asleep--ripe fruit had fallen, green fruit had come on whilst i had been asleep--how circumstances had altered, and above all myself whilst i had been asleep. no, i had not been asleep in the old church! i was in a pew, it is true, but not the pew of black leather, in which i sometimes fell asleep in days of yore, but in a strange pew; and then my companions, they were no longer those of days of yore. i was no longer with my respectable father and mother, and my dear brother, but with the gypsy cral and his wife, and the gigantic tawno, the antinous of the dusky people. and what was i myself? no longer an innocent child but a moody man, bearing in my face, as i knew well, the marks of my strivings and strugglings; of what i had learnt and unlearnt. but this "moody man," let it be always remembered, was a good husband and father. his wife was devoted to him, his step-daughter carries now to an old age a profound reverence and affection for his memory. grieved beyond all words was she--the henrietta or "hen" of all his books--at what is maintained to be the utterly fictitious narrative of borrow's described deathbed that professor knapp presented from the ill-considered gossip that he picked up while staying in the neighbourhood. { } borrow has himself something to say concerning his family in _wild wales_:-- of my wife i will merely say that she is a perfect paragon of wives--can make puddings and sweets and treacle posset, and is the best woman of business in east anglia: of my step-daughter, for such she is though i generally call her daughter, and with good reason seeing that she has always shown herself a daughter to me, that she has all kinds of good qualities and several accomplishments, knowing something of conchology, more of botany, drawing capitally in the dutch style, and playing remarkably well on the guitar. yes, i am not quite sure but that borrow was really a good fellow all round, as well as being a good husband and father. he hated the literary class, it is true. he considered that the "contemptible trade of author," as he called it, was less creditable than that of a jockey. he avoided as much as possible the writers of books, and particularly the blue-stocking, and when they came in his way he was not always very polite, sometimes much the reverse. only the other day a letter was published from the late professor cowell describing a visit to borrow and his not very friendly reception. well, borrow was here as elsewhere a man of insight. the literary class is usually a very narrow class. it can talk about no trade but its own. things have grown worse since borrow's day, i am sure, but they were bad enough then. borrow was a man of very varied tastes. he took interest in gypsies and horses and prize fighters and a hundred other entertaining matters, and so he despised the literary class, which cared for none of these things. but unhappily for his fame the literary class has had the final word; it has revealed all the gossip of a gossiping peasantry, and it has done its best to present the recluse of oulton in a disagreeable light. fortunately for borrow, who kept the bores at bay and contented himself with but few friends, there were at least two who survived him to bear testimony to the effect that he was "a singularly steadfast and loyal friend." one of these was mr. watts-dunton, who tells us in one of his essays that: george borrow was a good man, a most winsome and a most charming companion, an english gentleman, straightforward, honest, and brave as the very best examplars of that fine old type. i have dwelt longer on this aspect of my subject than i should have done had i been addressing any other audience than a norwich one. but the fact is that all the gossip and backbiting and censoriousness that has gathered round borrow for a hundred years has come out of this very city, commencing with the "bursts of laughter" that, according to miss martineau, greeted borrow's travels in spain for the bible society. borrow was twenty-one years of age when he left norwich to make his way in the world. during the next twenty years he may have undergone many changes of intellectual view, as most of us do, as miss martineau notably did, and miss martineau and her laughing friends were diabolically uncharitable. that lack of charity followed borrow throughout his life. he was libelled by many, by miss frances power cobbe most of all. however, the great city of norwich will make up for it in the future, and she will love borrow as borrow indisputably loved her. how he praised her fine cathedral, her lordly castle, her mousehold heath, her meadows in which he once saw a prize fight, her pleasant scenery--no city, not even glorious oxford, has been so well and adequately praised, and i desire to show that that praise is not for an age but for all time. if george borrow has not been happy in his biographer, and if, as is true, he has received but inadequate treatment on this account--such series of little books as _the english men of letters_ and the _great writers_ quite ignoring him--he has been equally unfortunate in his critics. there are hardly any good and distinctive appreciations in print of borrow's works. while other great names in the great literature of the victorian period have been praised by a hundred pens, there has scarcely been any notable and worthy praise of borrow, and if i were in an audience that was at all sceptical as to borrow's supreme merits, which happily i am not; if i were among those who declared that they could see but small merit in borrow themselves, but were prepared to accept him if only i could bring good authority that he was a very great writer, i should be hardly put to to comply with the demand. i can only name mr. theodore watts-dunton and mr. augustine birrell as critics of considerable status who have praised borrow well. "the delightful, the bewitching, the never sufficiently-to-be-praised george borrow," says mr. birrell in one of the essays he has written on the subject; { } while mr. theodore watts-dunton, has written no less than four papers on one whom he knew and admires personally, and of whom he insists that "his idealizing powers, his romantic cast of mind, his force, his originality, give him a title to a permanent place high in the ranks of english prose writers." all this is very interesting, but in literature as in life we have got to work out our own destinies. we have not got to accept borrow because this or that critic tells us he is good. i have therefore no quarrel with any one present who does not share my view that borrow was one of the greater glories of english literature. i only desire to state my case for him. to be a lover of borrow, a borrovian, in fact, it is not necessary to know all his books. you may never have seen copies of the _romantic ballads_ or of _faustus_, of _targum_ or of _the turkish jester_, of borrow's translation of _the talisman_ of pushkin. your state may be none the less gracious. to possess these books is largely a collector's hobby. they are interesting, but they would not have made for the author an undying reputation. further, you may not care for _the bible in spain_, you may be untouched by the _gypsies in spain_ and _wild wales_, and even then i will not deny to you the title of a good borrovian, if only you pronounce _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_ to be among the greatest books you know. i can admire the _gypsies in spain_ and _wild wales_. i can read _the bible in spain_ with something of the enthusiasm with which our fathers read it. it is a stirring narrative of travel and much more. robert louis stevenson did, indeed, rank it among his "dear acquaintances" in bookland, "the _pilgrim's progress_ in the first rank, _the bible in spain_ not far behind," he says. all the same, it has not, none of these three books has, the distinctive mark of first class genius that belongs to the other two in the five-volumed edition of borrow's collected works that many of us have read through more than once. not all clever people have thought _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_ to be thus great. a critic in the _athenaeum_ declared _lavengro_ when it was published in to be "balderdash," while a critic writing just fifty years afterwards and writing from norfolk, alas! insisted that the author of this book "was absolutely wanting in the power of invention" that he (borrow) could "only have drawn upon his memory," that he had "no sense of humour." if all this were true, if half of it were true, borrow was not the great man, the great writer that i take him to be. but it is not true. _lavengro_ with its continuation _the romany rye_, is a great work of imagination, of invention; it is in no sense a photograph, a memory picture, and it abounds in humour as it abounds in many other great characteristics. what makes an author supremely great? surely a certain quality which we call genius, as distinct from the mere intellectual power of some less brilliant writer:-- true genius is the ray that flings a novel light o'er common things and here it is that borrow shines supreme. he has invested with quite novel light a hundred commonplace aspects of life. not an inventor! not imaginative! why, one of the indictments against him is that philologists decry his philology and gyptologists his gypsy learning. if, then, his philology and his gypsy lore were imperfect, as i believe they were, how much the greater an imaginative writer he was. to say that _lavengro_ merely indicates keen observation is absurd. not the keenest observation will crowd so many adventures, adventures as fresh and as novel as those of gil blas or robinson crusoe, into a few months' experience. "i felt some desire," says lavengro, "to meet with one of those adventures which upon the roads of england are generally as plentiful as blackberries in autumn." i think that most of us will wander along the roads of england for a very long time before we meet an isopel berners, before we have such an adventure as that of the blacksmith and his horse, or of the apple woman whose favourite reading was _moll flanders_. these and a hundred other adventures, the fight with the flaming tinman, the poisoning of lavengro by the gypsy woman, the discourse with ursula under the hedge, when once read are fixed upon the memory for ever. and yet you may turn to them again and again, and with ever increasing zest. the story of isopel berners is a piece of imaginative writing that certainly has no superior in the literature of the last century. it was assuredly no photographic experience. isopel berners is herself a creation ranking among the fine creations of womanhood of the finest writers. i doubt not but that it was inspired by some actual memory of borrow--the memory of some early love affair in which the distractions of his mania for word-learning--the armenian and other languages--led him to pass by some opportunity of his life, losing the substance for the shadow. but whether there were ever a real isopel we shall never know. we do know that borrow has presented his fictitious one with infinite poetry and fine imaginative power. we do know, moreover, that it is not right to describe isopel berners as a marvellous episode in a narrative of other texture. _lavengro_ is full of marvellous episodes. some one has ventured to comment upon borrow's style--to imply that it is not always on a high plane. what does that matter? style is not the quality that makes a book live, but the novelty of the ideas. stevenson was a splendid stylist, and his admirers have deluded themselves into believing that he was, therefore, among the immortals. but stevenson had nothing new to tell the world, and he was not, he is not, therefore of the immortals. borrow is of the immortals, not by virtue of a style, but by virtue of having something new to say. he is with dickens and with carlyle as one of the three great british prose writers of the age we call victorian, who in quite different ways have presented a new note for their own time and for long after. it is the distinction of borrow that he has invested the common life of the road, of the highway, the path through the meadow, the gypsy encampment, the country fair, the very apple stall and wayside inn with an air of romance that can never leave those of us who have once come under the magnificent spell of _lavengro_ and the _romany rye_. perhaps borrow is pre-eminently the writer for those who sit in armchairs and dream of adventures they will never undertake. perhaps he will never be the favourite author of the really adventurous spirit, who wants the real thing, the latest book of actual travel. but to be the favourite author of those who sit in arm-chairs is no small thing, and, as i have said already, borrow stands with carlyle and dickens in _our_ century, by which i mean the nineteenth century; with defoe and goldsmith in the eighteenth century, as one of the really great and imperishable masters of our tongue. what then will norwich do for george borrow? i ask this question, although it would, perhaps, be an impertinence to ask it were i not a norwich man. if you have read dr. knapp's _life of borrow_, you will have seen more than one reference to mrs. borrow's landlord, "old king," "tom king the carpenter," and so on, who owned the house in willow lane in which borrow spent his boyhood. that 'old king the carpenter'--i believe he called himself a builder, but perhaps this was when he grew more prosperous--was my great-great-uncle. one of his sons became physician to prince talleyrand and married a sister of john stuart mill. one of his great-nieces was my grandmother, and her mother's family, the parkers, had lived in norwich for many generations. so on the strength of this little piece of genealogy let me claim, not only to be a good borrovian, but also a good norvicensian. grant me then a right to plead for a practical recognition of borrow in the city that he loved most, although he sometimes scolded it as it often scolded him. i should like to see a statue, or some similar memorial. if you pass through the cities of the continent--french, german, or belgian--you will find in well-nigh every town a memorial to this or that worthy connected with its literary or artistic fame. how many memorials has norwich to the people connected with its literary or artistic fame? nay, i am not rash and impetuous. i would beg any one of my hearers who thinks that borrow might well have a memorial in marble or bronze in your city to wait a while. you are busy with a statue to sir thomas browne--a most commendable scheme. to attempt to raise one to borrow at this moment would probably be to court disaster. nor do i advocate a memorial by private subscription. observation has shown me what that means: failure or half failure in nearly every case. the memorial when it comes must be initiated by the city fathers in council assembled. that time is perhaps far distant. but let us all do everything we can to make secure the high and honourable achievement of george borrow, to kindle an interest in him and his writings, to extend a taste for the undoubted beauties of his works among all classes of his fellow-citizens--that is to secure borrow the best of all monuments. more durable than brass will be the memorial that is contained in the assurance that he possesses the reverence and the homage of all true norfolk hearts. iv. to the immortal memory of george crabbe an address delivered at the crabbe celebration at aldeburgh in suffolk on the th of september, . i have been asked to say something in praise of george crabbe. the task would be an easier one were it not for the presence of the distinguished critic from the university of nancy who is with us to-day. m. huchon { } has devoted to the subject a singleminded zeal to which one whose profession is primarily that of a journalist can make no claim. moreover it has been well said that _the judgment of foreigners is the judgment of posterity_, and i fully believe that where a writer has secured the suffrages of men of another nation than his own, he has done more for his ultimate fame than the passing and fickle favour of his countrymen can secure for him. in any case crabbe has been praised more eloquently than almost any other modern, and this in spite of the fact that he was not read by the generation succeeding his death, nor is he read much in our own time. if you want to read crabbe to-day in his entirety, you must become possessed of a huge and clumsy volume of sombre appearance, small type and repellant double columns. for fully seventy years it has not paid a publisher to reprint crabbe's poems properly. { } when this was achieved in , the edition in eight volumes was comparatively a failure, and the promised two volumes of essays and sermons were not forthcoming in consequence. selections from crabbe have been many, but when all is said he has been the least read for the past sixty or seventy years of all the authors who have claims to be considered classics. the least read but perhaps the best praised--that is one point of certainty. the praise began with the politicians--with the two greatest political leaders of their age. the eloquent and noble edmund burke, the great- hearted charles james fox. burke "made" george crabbe as no poet was ever made before or since. to me there is no picture in all literature more unflaggingly interesting than that of the great man, whose life was so full of affairs, taking the poor young stranger by the hand, reading through his abundant manuscripts, and therefrom selecting--as the poet was quite unable to select--_the library_ and _the village_ as the most suitable for publication, helping him to a publisher, introducing him to friends, and proving himself quite untiring on his behalf. there is a letter of burke's printed in a little known book--_the correspondence of sir thomas hanmer_, speaker of the house of commons--in which burke takes the trouble to defend crabbe's moral character and to press his claims for being admitted to holy orders. "dudley north tells me," he continues, "that he has the best character possible among those with whom he has always lived, that he is now working hard to qualify, and has not only latin, but some smattering of greek." it had its gracious amenities, that eighteenth century, for i do not believe that there is a man in the ranks of the present government, or of the present opposition, who would take all this trouble for a poor unknown who had appealed to him merely by two or three long letters recounting his career. nay, cabinet ministers are less punctilious than formerly, and the newest type, i understand, leaves letters unanswered. i can imagine the attitude of one of our modern statesmen in the face of two quite bulky packages of many sheets from a young author. he would request his secretary to see what they were all about, and then would follow the curt answer--"i am directed by dash to say that he cannot comply with your request." burke not only wrote to the speaker of the house of commons, but enclosed crabbe's letter to him, a quite wonderful piece of autobiography. { } all crabbe's admirers should read that letter. crabbe apologizes for writing again, and refers to "these repeated attacks on your patience." "my father," he said, "had a place in the custom house at aldeburgh. he had a large family, a little income and no economy," and then the story of his life up to that time is told to burke in fullest detail. again, there is that other statesman-admirer of crabbe, charles james fox. fox gave to crabbe's work an admiration which never faltered, and on his death-bed requested that the pathetic story of phoebe dawson in _the parish register_ should be read to him--it was, we are told, "the last piece of poetry that soothed his dying ear." in lord holland's _memoirs of the whig party_ there is a statement by his nephew which no biographer so far has quoted:-- i read over to him the whole of crabbe's _parish register_ in manuscript. some parts he made me read twice; he remarked several passages as exquisitely beautiful, and objected to some few which i mentioned to the author and which he, in almost every instance, altered before publication. mr. fox repeated once or twice that it was a very pretty poem, that crabbe's condition in the world had improved since he wrote _the village_, and his view of life, likewise _the parish register_, bore marks of considerably more indulgence to our species; though not so many as he could have wished, especially as the few touches of that nature were beautiful in the extreme. he was particularly struck with the description of the substantial happiness of a farmer's wife. from great novelists the tributes are not less noteworthy than from great statesmen. jane austen, whose personality perhaps has more real womanly attractiveness than that of any sister novelist of the first rank, declared playfully that if she could have been persuaded to change her state it would have been to become mrs. crabbe; and who can forget sir walter scott's request in his last illness: "read me some amusing thing--read me a bit of crabbe." they read to him from _the borough_, and we all remember his comment, "capital--excellent--very good." yet at this time--in --any popularity that crabbe had once enjoyed was already on the wane. other idols had caught the popular taste, and from that day to this there was to be no real revival of appreciation for these poems. there were to be no lack of admirers, however, of the audience "fit though few." byron's praise has been too often quoted for repetition. wordsworth, who rarely praised his contemporaries in poetry, declared of crabbe that his works "would last from their combined merit as poetry and truth." macaulay writes of "that incomparable passage in crabbe's _borough_ which has made many a rough and cynical reader cry like a child"--the passage in which the condemned felon takes his tasteless food, and when 'tis done, counts up his meals, now lessen'd by that one,-- a story which macaulay bluntly charges robert montgomery with stealing. lord tennyson, again, at a much later date, admitted that "crabbe has a world of his own." not less impressive surely is the attitude of the two writers as far as the poles asunder in their outlook upon life and its mysteries--cardinal newman and edward fitzgerald. the famous theologian, we learn from the _letters and correspondence_ collected by anne mozley, writes in of his "excessive fondness" for _the tales of the hall_, and thirty years later in one of his _discourses_ he says of crabbe's poems that they are among "the most touching in our language." still another twenty years, and the aged cardinal reread crabbe to find that he was more delighted than ever with our poet. that great nineteenth century pagan, on the other hand, that prince of letter-writers and wonderful poet of whom suffolk has also reason to be proud, edward fitzgerald, was even more ardent. praise of crabbe is scattered freely throughout the many volumes of his correspondence, and he edited, as we all know, a book of selections, which i want to see reprinted. it contains a preface that, it may be admitted, is not really worthy of fitzgerald, so lacking is it in the force and vigour of his correspondence. but this also was in fact yet another death-bed tribute, for it was, i think, one of the last things fitzgerald wrote. fitzgerald, however, has done more for crabbe among the moderns than any other man. his keen literary judgment must have brought new converts to that limited brotherhood of the elect, of which this gathering forms no inconsiderable portion. we have one advantage in speaking about george crabbe that does not obtain with any other poet of great eminence; that is to say, that his life story has not been hackneyed by repetition. with almost any other writer there is some standing biography which is widely familiar. the _life of george crabbe_, written by his son, although it is one of the very best biographies that i have ever read, is little known. it was quite out of print for years, and it has never been reprinted separately from the poems. it is an admirable biography, and it offers a contradiction of the view occasionally urged that a man's life should not be written by a member of his own family; for george crabbe the second would seem not only to have been an exceedingly able man, but possessed of a frankness of disposition in criticizing his father which sons are often prone to show in real life, but which, i imagine, they rarely show in print. his book is a model of candid statement, treating of crabbe's little weaknesses--and who of us has not his little weaknesses--in the most cheery possible manner. it is perhaps a small matter to tell us in one place of his father's want of "taste," his insensibility to the beauty of order in his composition--that had been done by the critics before him; but he even has something to say about the philandering which characterized the old gentleman in the last years of his life, his apparent anxiety to get married again. { } the only thing that he all but ignores is crabbe's opium habit--a habit that came to him as a sedative from a painful complaint and inspired, as was the case with coleridge, his more melodious utterances. taken altogether the picture is as pleasant as it is capable and exhaustive. we see his early boyhood at aldeburgh, his schooldays: his first period of unhappiness at slaughden quay, his apprenticeship near bury st. edmunds, where we seem to hear his master's daughters, when he reached the door, exclaim with laughter, "la! here's our new 'prentice." we follow him a little higher, to the house of the woodbridge surgeon, then through his prolonged courtship of sarah elmy, then to those dreary, uncongenial duties of piling up butter casks on slaughden quay. a brief period of starvation in london, and we find him again in a chemist's shop in aldeburgh. lastly comes his most important journey to london upon the borrowed sum of pounds, only three of which he carried in hard cash. his hand to mouth existence in london for some months is among the most interesting things in literature. chatterton's tragic fate might have been his, but, more fortunate than chatterton, he had friends at beccles who helped him, and he was even able to publish a poem, _the candidate_. although this poem contained only thirty-four pages, one is not quite sure but that it helped to ruin its publisher. in any case that publisher went bankrupt soon after. crabbe has been reproached for having continually attempted to secure a "patron" at this time, and it has been hinted by sir leslie stephen that he ought to have recognized that the patron was out of date, killed by dr. johnson's sturdy defiance. i do not agree with this view. dr. johnson, in spite of his famous epigram, was always more or less assisted by the patron, although his personality was strong enough to enable him to turn the tables at the end. when one comes to think of it, thrale the brewer was a patron of johnson, so was strahan the printer. and does he not say in his famous letter to lord chesterfield that "seven years, my lord, have now passed since i waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door," clearly implying that if chesterfield was not johnson's patron it was not the great doctor's fault? in any case the patron must always exist for the poor man of letters in every age. now, he is frequently a collective personality rather than an individual. he is represented for the author who has tried and failed by the royal literary fund, by such bounty as is awarded by the society of authors, or by the civil list grant. for the author in embryo he is assisted above all by the literary log-roller who flourishes so much in our day. if he is not this "collective personality," or one of the others i have named, then he is something much worse--that is, a capitalist publisher. we can none of us who have to earn a living run away from the patronage of capital, and when sir leslie stephen was being paid a salary by the late mr. george smith for editing the _dictionary of national biography_, and was told, as we remember that he frequently was, that it was not a remunerative venture and that, as mr. smith was fond of saying, his publishing business did not pay for his vineries, sir leslie stephen was experiencing a patronage, if he had known it, not less melancholy than anything crabbe suffered from edmund burke or the duke of rutland. when one meets a writer who desires to walk on high stilts and to talk of the independence of literature, one is entitled to ask him if it was a greater indignity for lord tennyson in his younger days to have received pounds a year from the civil list than for crabbe to have received the same sum as the duke of rutland's chaplain; in fact, crabbe earned the money, and tennyson did not. there are, as i have said, some most wonderful and pathetic touches in the account of crabbe's attempt to conquer london. there are his letters to his sweetheart, for example, his "dearest mira," in one of which he says that he is possessed of . _d._ in the world. in another he relates that he has sold his surgical instruments in order to pay his bills. nevertheless, we find him standing at a bookstall where he sees dryden's works in three volumes, octavo, for five shillings, and of his few shillings he ventures to offer _s._ _d._--and carries home the dryden. what bibliophile but must love such a story as that, even though a day or two afterwards its hero writes, "my last shilling became _d._ yesterday." but what a good investment withal. dryden made him a much better poet. then comes the famous letter to burke, and the less known second letter to which i have referred, and burke's splendid reception of the writer. nothing, i repeat, in the life of any great man is more beautiful than that. as crabbe's son finely says: "he went in burke's room a poor young adventurer, spurned by the opulent and rejected by the publishers, his last shilling gone, and his last hope with it. he came out virtually secure of almost all the good fortune that by successive stages afterwards fell to his lot." the success that comes to most men is built up on such chances, on the kind help of some one or other individual. finally there came--for i am hastily recapitulating crabbe's story--the years of prosperity, curacies, rectories, the praise of great contemporaries, but nothing surely more edifying than the burning of piles of manuscripts so extensive that no fireplace would hold them. the son's account of his assisting at these conflagrations is not the least interesting part of his biography, the merits of which i desire to emphasize. people who make jokes about that most succulent edible, the crab, when the poet crabbe is mentioned in their presence--and who can resist an obvious pun--are not really far astray. there can be little doubt but that a remote ancestor of george crabbe took his name from the "shellfish," as we all persist, in spite of the naturalist, in calling it; and the poet did not hesitate to attribute it to the vanity of an ancestor that his name had had two letters added. nor when we hear of cromer crabs, or crabs from some other part of norfolk as distinct from what i am sure is equally palatable, the crustacean as it may be found in aldeburgh, are we remote from the story of our poet's life. for there cannot be a doubt but that norfolk shares with suffolk the glory of his origin. his family, it is clear, came first from norfolk. the crabbes of norfolk were farmers, the crabbes of suffolk always favoured the seacoast, and all the glory that surrounds the name of the poet to whom we do honour to-day is reflected in the town in which he was born and bred. aldeburgh is crabbe's own town, and it is an interesting fact that no other poet can be identified with one particular spot in the way in which crabbe can be identified with this beautiful watering-place in which we are now assembled. shakspere was more of a londoner than a stratfordian; nearly all his best work was written in london, and many of the most receptive years of his life were spent in that city. milton's honoured name is identified with many places, apart from london, the city of his birth. shelley, byron and keats were essentially cosmopolitans in their writings as in their lives. wordsworth was closely identified with grasmere, although born in a neighbouring county; but he went to many and varied scenes, and to more than one country, for some of his most inspired verses. then cowper, the poet of whom one most often thinks when one is recalling the achievement of crabbe, is a poet of some half- dozen places other than olney, and perhaps his best verses were written at weston-underwood. now george crabbe in the years of his success was identified with many places other than aldeburgh: with belvoir castle, with muston, and with trowbridge, where he died, and some of his admirers have even identified him with bath. when all this is allowed, it is upon aldeburgh that the whole of his writings turned, the place where he was born, where he spent his boyhood, and the earlier years of a perhaps too sordid manhood, whither he returned twice, as a chemist's assistant and as curate. it is the place that primarily inspired all his verses. aldeburgh stands out vividly before us in each succeeding poem--in _the village_, _the borough_, _the parish register_, _the tales_, and even in those _tales of the hall_, composed in later life in faraway trowbridge. crabbe's vivid observations indeed come home to every one who has studied his works when they have visited not only aldeburgh but its vicinity. every reach of the river ald recalls some striking line by him: the scenery in _the lover's journey_ we know is a description of the road between aldeburgh and beccles, and all who have sailed along the river to orford have recognized that no stream has been so perfectly portrayed by a poet's pen. here in his writings you may have a suggestion of muston, here of allington, and here again of trowbridge; but in the main it is the suffolk scenery that most of us here know so well that was ever in his mind. when an attempt was once made to stir up the great eastern railway to identify this district with the name of crabbe as the english lakes were identified with the name of wordsworth, and the scots lakes with that of sir walter scott, a high official of the railway made the statement that up to that moment he had never even heard the name of crabbe. well, all that is going to be changed. i do not at all approve of the phrase beloved of certain book-makers and of railway companies that implies that any county or district is the monopoly of one man, be he ever so great a writer. yet i venture to say that within the next ten years the "crabbe country" will sound as familiar to the officials of the great eastern as the "wordsworth country" does to those of the midland or the north western. it is true that once in the bitterness of his heart the poet referred to aldeburgh as "a little venal borough in suffolk" and that he more than once alluded to his unkind reception upon his reappearance as a curate, when he had previously failed at other callings. "in my own village they think nothing of me," he once said. but who does not know how the heart turns with the years to the places associated with childhood and youth, and crabbe was a remarkable exemplification of this. a well-known literary journal stated only last week that "crabbe's connexion with aldeburgh was not very protracted." so far from this being true it would be no exaggeration to say that it extended over the whole of his seventy-eight years of life. it included the first five-and- twenty years almost entirely. it included also the brief curacy, the prolonged residence at parham and glenham, frequent visits for holidays in after years, and who but a lover of his native place would have done as his son pictures him doing when at stathern--riding alone to the coast of lincolnshire, sixty miles from where he was living, only to dip in the waves that also washed the beach of aldeburgh and returned immediately to his home. "there is no sea like the aldeburgh sea," said edward fitzgerald, and we may be sure that was crabbe's opinion also, for revisiting it in later life he wrote:-- there once again, my native place i come thee to salute, my earliest, latest home. one picture in crabbe's life stands out vividly to us all--the long years of devotion given by him to sarah elmy, and the reciprocal devotion of the very capable woman who finally became his wife. crabbe's courtship and marriage affords a pleasant contrast to the usual unhappy relations of poets with their wives. shakspere, milton, dryden, byron, shelley, and many another poet was less happy in this respect, and i am not sure how far the belief in crabbe's powers as a poet has been affected by the fact that he lived on the whole a happy, humdrum married life. the public has so long been accustomed to expect a different state of things. i have given thus much time to crabbe's life story because it interests me, and i do not believe that it is possible nowadays to kindle a very profound interest in any writer without a definite presentation of his personality. apart from his biography--his three biographies by george crabbe the second, mr. t. e. kebbel, and canon ainger, there are the seven volumes of his works. now i do not imagine that any great accession will be made to the ranks of crabbe's admirers by asking people to take down these seven volumes and read them right through--a thing i have myself done twice, and many here also i doubt not. rather would i plead for a reprint of edmund fitzgerald's selections, or failing that i would ask you to look at the volume of selections made by mr. bernard holland, or that other admirable selection by the rev. anthony deane. "i must think my old crabbe will come up again, though never to be popular," wrote fitzgerald to archbishop trench. well, perhaps the "large still books" of the older writers are never destined to be popular again, but they will always maintain with genuine book lovers their place in english literature, and if the adequate praise they have received from many good judges is well kept to the front there will be constant accessions to the ranks, and readers will want the whole of crabbe's works in which to dig for themselves. crabbe's place in english literature needed not such a gathering as this to make it secure, but we want celebrations of our literary heroes to keep alive enthusiasm, and to encourage the faint-hearted. in the glorious tradition of english literature, then, crabbe comes after cowper and before wordsworth. there is a lineal descent as clear and well-defined as any set forth in the peerages of "burke" or "debrett." we read in vain if we do not fully grasp the continuity of creative work. cowper was born in , crabbe in , and cowper was called to the bar in the year that crabbe was born. in spite of this disparity of years they started upon their literary careers almost at the same time. _the village_ was published in , and _the task_ in , yet cowper is in every sense the elder poet, inheriting more closely the traditions of pope and dryden, coming less near to humanity than crabbe, and being more emphatically a child of the eighteenth century in its artificial aspects. it is impossible to indict a whole century with all its varied accomplishments, and the century that produced swift and cowper and crabbe had no lack of the finer instincts of brotherhood. yet the century was essentially a cruel one. take as an example the attitude of naturally kindly men to the hanging of dr. dodd for forgery. even samuel johnson, who did what he could for dodd, did not find, as he should have done, his whole soul revolted by such a punishment for a crime against property. cowper has immense claim upon our regard. he is one of the truest of poets, and one of the most interesting figures in all english literature, although no small share of his one-time popularity was due to his identification with evangelicalism in religion. cowper had humour and other qualities which enabled him to make the universal appeal to all hearts which is the test of the greatest literature--the appeal of "john gilpin," the "lines" to his mother's portrait, and his verses on "the loss of the _royal george_." crabbe made no such appeal, and he has not the adventitious assistance that association with a religious sect affords. hence the popularity he once enjoyed was more entirely on his merits than was that of cowper. he was the first of the eighteenth century poets who was able to _see things as they really are_. therein lies his strength. were they poets at all--those earlier eighteenth century writers? it sounds like rank blasphemy to question it, but what is poetry? surely it is the expression artistically in rhythmic form--or even without it--of the sincerest emotions concerning nature and life. the greatest poet is not the one who is most sincere--a very bad poet can be that--but the poet who expresses that sincerity with the most perfect art. from this point of view the poets before cowper and crabbe, pope, goldsmith, johnson and others were scarcely poets at all. masters of language every one of them, able to command a fine rhetoric, but not poets. gray in two or three pieces was a poet, but for johnson that claim can scarcely be made. cowper was the first to emancipate himself from the conventionality of his age, and crabbe emancipated himself still further. he had boundless sincerity, and he is really a very great poet even if he has not the perfection of art of some later poets. many know crabbe only by the parody of his manner in _rejected addresses_: john richard william alexander dwyer was footman to justinian stubbs esquire; but when john dwyer listed in the blues, emanuel jennings polished stubbs's shoes. and it must be admitted that there are plenty of lines like these in crabbe, as for example:-- grave jonas kindred, sybil kindred's sire was six feet high, and looked six inches higher. or this:-- the church he view'd as liberal minds will view and there he fixed his principles and pew. banalities of this kind are scattered through his pages as they are scattered through those of wordsworth. nevertheless he was a great poet, bringing us before wordsworth out of the ruck of artificiality and insincerity. does any one suppose that pope in his _essay on man_, that johnson in his _london_ or that goldsmith in his _deserted village_ had any idea other than the production of splendid phrases. each and all of them were brilliant men of letters. crabbe was not a brilliant man of letters, but he was a fine and a genuine poet. you will look in vain in his truest work for the lyrical and musical gift that we associate with poets who came after:--shelley, keats, tennyson--poets who made crabbe's work quite distasteful for some three generations. crabbe it has been claimed had that gift also, to be found in "sir eustace grey" and other verses written under the inspiration of opium, as much of coleridge's best work was written--but it is not in these that his admirers will seek to emphasize his achievement--it is in his work which treats of the simple annals of my parish poor. _the village_, _the parish register_, _the borough_, and many of the _tales_ bear witness to a clear vision of life as it is lived by the majority of people born into this world. i have seen criticism of crabbe which calls him the poet who took the middle classes for his subjects, criticism which compared him with george eliot. all this is quite beside the mark. crabbe is pre-eminently the poet of the poor, with a lesson for to-day as much as for a century ago. villages are not now what they were then, we are told. but i fully believe that there are all the conditions of life to-day hidden beneath the surface as crabbe's close observations pictured them. "the altered position of the poor," says mr. courthope, "has fortunately deprived his poems of much of the reality they once possessed." i do not believe it. the closely packed towns, the herding together of families, the squalor are still to be found in our midst. crabbe has his message for our time as well as for his own. how he tore the veil from the conventional language of his day, the picture of the ideal village where the happy peasantry passed through life so joyously. contrast such pictures with his sad declaration-- i've seldom known, though i have often read of happy peasants on their dying-bed. solution crabbe offers none for the tragedy of poverty. he was no politician. he signed the nomination paper for john wilson croker the tory in his native aldeburgh, and he supported a whig at the same election at trowbridge. his politics were summed up in backing his friends of both parties. but he did see, as politicians are only beginning to see to-day, that the ultimate solution was a social one and not a mere question of political parties. generations have passed away since he lived, and men are still shouting themselves hoarse to prove that in this shibboleth or in that may be found the salvation of the country, yet we have still our thousands on the verge of starvation, we have still the very poor in our midst, and the problem seems as far from solution as ever. but it would be all the better for the state if we could keep the questions raised by crabbe in his wonderful pictures more continually in view,--lacking in taste as they may sometimes seem to weak stomachs, coarse, unvarnished narratives though they be of a life which is really almost entirely sordid. then let us turn to crabbe's gallery of pictures. phoebe dawson, and the equally pathetic ruth, blaney and clelia, peter grimes and many another. they are as clearly defined a set of entirely human beings as any master has given us. it is not assuredly in george eliot, as canon ainger suggests, that i find an affinity to crabbe among the moderns, but in two much greater writers of quite different texture, balzac and dickens. had crabbe not been bounded and restrained by the conventions of his cloth, he might have become one of the most popular story-tellers in our literature--the english balzac. at a hundred points charles dickens is an entire contrast to crabbe--in his buoyant humour, his gaiety of heart, in the glamour that he throws over the life of the poor, a glamour that was more present in the early victorian era than in our own, but crabbe is with balzac and with dickens in that he presents as no other moderns have done living pictures of suffering human lives. there is yet one other literary force, powerful in our day, that has been largely influenced by crabbe. those who love the novels of mr. thomas hardy, whom we rejoice to see with us at this celebration,--his _woodlanders_, _the return of the native_, _far from the madding crowd_, and many another book that touches the very heart of things in nature and human life, will rejoice to hear that this great writer has admitted george crabbe to be the most potent influence that has affected his work. i have heard him declare many times how much he was inspired by crabbe, whereas the later french realists had no influence upon him whatever. "crabbe was our first great english realist" mr. hardy would tell you if only we could persuade him to speak from this platform, as unfortunately he will not. lastly let us take crabbe as a great story-teller. he has many more ideas than most of the novelists. that is why we do well to recall the hint of the writer who said that when a new work came out we should take down an old one from our shelves. instead of the "un-idead" novels, that come out by the dozen and are so popular. i wish we could agree to read crabbe's novels in verse. unhappily their form is against them in the present age. but it would not be at all a misfortune if we could make crabbe's _tales_ once more the vogue. they are good stories, absorbingly interesting. they leave a very vivid impression on the mind. once read they are unforgettable. i have seen it stated that these stories are old-fashioned both in manner and in substance. in manner they may be, but in substance i maintain they are intensely modern, alive with the spirit of our time. any latter- day novelist might envy crabbe his power of developing a story. it is this essential modernity that is to make crabbe's place in english literature secure for generations yet to come. finally, crabbe's place in english literature is as the bridge between the eighteenth and nineteenth century. with him begins that "enthusiasm of humanity" which the eighteenth century so imperfectly understood. byron and wordsworth, disliking each other cordially, did well to praise him, for he was their forerunner. a master of pathos, you may find in his work incentive to tears and laughter, although sometimes the humour, as in _the learned boy_, is sadly unconscious. but i must bring these rambling remarks to a close, and in doing so i must once again quote that other suffolk worthy to whom many of us are very much attached, i mean edward fitzgerald. when sir leslie stephen wrote what is to my mind a singularly infelicitous essay on crabbe in the _cornhill_, he quoted the remark, which seemed to be new to fitzgerald, as to crabbe being a "pope in worsted stockings"--a remark made by horace smith of _rejected addresses_, although i have seen it ascribed to byron and others. "pope in worsted stockings," exclaimed fitzgerald, "why i could cite whole paragraphs of as fine a texture as moliere; 'incapable of epigram,' the jackanapes says--why, i could find fifty of the very best epigrams in five minutes," and later, in another letter he writes-- i am positively looking over my everlasting crabbe again; he naturally comes in about the fall of the year. here surely is an appropriate quotation, a little prophetic perhaps, for our gathering--the "everlasting crabbe." we cannot all love crabbe as much as fitzgerald loved him, but this gathering will not be vain if after this we handle his volumes more lovingly, read his poems more sympathetically, and continue with more zeal than ever before to be proud of the man who, born in aldeburgh a century and a half ago, is closely identified with this county of suffolk as i believe no other great writer is closely identified with any county in england. an aldeburgh man--a suffolk man he was--yet even more in the future than in the past, he is destined to gain the whole world for his parish. he is the everlasting crabbe! v. the literary associations of east anglia an address to the east anglian society on the occasion of a dinner to mr. william dutt, author of "highways and byways in east anglia." march , . i appreciate the privilege of being allowed to speak this evening for a few minutes upon the literary associations of east anglia, of being permitted to ask you, while doing honour to a well-known east anglian writer of to-day, to cast a glance back upon the literature of the past so far as it affects that portion of the british empire with which we nearly all of us here are proud to be associated. there is necessarily some difference of opinion as to what constitutes east anglia. i find that our guest of to-night tells us that it is "norfolk, suffolk and portions of essex, cambridgeshire and lincolnshire." dr. knapp, the biographer of borrow, says that it is norfolk, suffolk and cambridgeshire; personally i am content with that classification, because, although i was born in london, i claim, apart from schoolboy days at downham market, a pretty lengthy ancestry from norwich on one side--which is indisputably east anglia--and from welney, near wisbeach, on another side, and welney and wisbeach are, i affirm, just as much east anglia as norwich and ipswich. with reference to those other counties and portions of counties, i think that the inhabitants must be allowed to decide for themselves. i imagine that they will give every possible stretch to the imagination in order to allow themselves the honour of being incorporated in east anglia, a name that one never pronounces without recalling that fine old-world compliment of st. augustine of canterbury to our ancestors, that they ought to be called not "angles" but "angels." every one in particular who loves books must be proud to partake of our great literary tradition. if it is difficult to decide precisely what east anglia is, it is perhaps equally difficult to speak for a few minutes on so colossal a theme as the literature of east anglia. it would be easy to recapitulate what every biographical dictionary will provide, a long list of famous names associated with our counties; to remind you that we have produced two poet-laureates--john skelton, of diss, the author of _colyn cloute_, and thomas shadwell, of broomhill, the playwright--the latter perhaps not entirely a subject for pride; two very rough and ready political philosophers, thomas paine, born at thetford, and william godwin, born at wisbeach; a very popular novelist in bulwer lytton, and a very popular theologian in dr. samuel clarke; as also the famous brother and sister whose works appealed to totally different minds, james and harriet martineau. then there was that pathetic creature and indifferent poet, robert bloomfield, whose _farmer's boy_ once appeared in the luxurious glories of an expensive quarto. finally, one recalls that two of the most popular women writers of an earlier generation, clara reeve, the novelist, and agnes strickland, the historian, were suffolk women. but i am not concerned to give you a recapitulation of all the east anglian writers, whose names, as i have said, can be found in any biographical dictionary, and the quality of whose work would rather suggest that east anglia, from a literary point of view, is a land of extinct volcanoes. i am naturally rather anxious to make use of the golden opportunity that has been afforded me to emphasize my own literary sympathies, and to say in what i think lies the glory of east anglia, at least so far as the creation of books is concerned. here i make an interesting claim for east anglia, that it has given us in captain marryat perhaps the very greatest prose writer of the nineteenth century who has been a delight to youth, and two of the very greatest prose writers of all times for the inspiration of middle-age, sir thomas browne and george borrow. it has given us in sarah austin an example of a learned woman who was also a fascinating woman; it has given us again the most remarkable letter-writers in the english language--margaret paston, horace walpole and edward fitzgerald. to these there were only three serious rivals as letter-writers--william cowper, thomas grey and charles lamb; and the first found a final home and a last resting-place in our midst. it has given us that remarkable novelist and entertaining diarist, fanny burney. finally, it has given us in that same william cowper--who rests in east dereham church, and for whom we claim on that and for other reasons some share and participation in his genius--a great and much loved poet. it has given us indeed in william cowper and george crabbe the two most natural and the two most human poets in the english literature of two centuries, only excepting the favourite poet of scotland--robert burns. it is to these of all writers that i would pin my faith in talking of east anglia and its literature; it is their names that i would have you keep in your mind when you call up memories of the literature which has most inspired our east anglian life. in connexion with many writers a point of importance will occur to us. only occasionally has a great english author a special claim on one particular portion of england. he has not been the lesser or the greater for that, it has merely been an accident of his birth and of his career. the greatest of all writers, the one of whom all englishmen are naturally the most proud, shakspere, has, it is true, an abundant association with warwickshire, but shakspere stands almost alone in this, as in many things. chaucer, spenser, milton, byron and keats were born in london; they travelled widely, they lived in many different counties or countries, and cannot be said to have adorned any distinctively local tradition. shelley was born in sussex, but a hundred cities, including rome, where his ashes rest, may claim some participation in his fine spirit. wordsworth, on the other hand, who was born in cumberland, certainly obtained the greater part of his inspiration from the neighbouring county of westmorland, where his life was passed. but when we come to east anglia we are face to face with a body of writers who belong to the very soil, upon whom the particular character of the landscape has had a permanent effect, who are not only very great englishmen and englishwomen, but are great east anglians as well. i have said that captain marryat was an east anglian, and have we not a right to be proud of marryat's breezy stories of the sea? our youth has found such plentiful stimulus in _peter simple_, _frank mildmay_, and _mr. midshipman easy_; generations of boys have read them with delight, generations of boys will read them. and not only boys, but men. one recalls that carlyle, in one of his deepest fits of depression, took refuge in marryat's novels with infinite advantage to his peace of mind. speaking of captain marryat and books for boys, a quite minor kind of literature perhaps some of you may think, i must recall that an earlier and still more famous story for children had an east anglian origin. did not the babes in the wood come out of norfolk? was it not their estate in that county that, as we learn from percy's _reliques_, their wicked uncle coveted, and were not the last hours of those unfortunate children, in this most picturesque and pathetic of stories, solaced by east anglian robins and their poor bodies covered by east anglian vegetation? let me pass, however, to what may be counted more serious literature. what can one say of sir thomas browne unless indeed one has an hour in which to say it. every page of that great writer's _religio medici_ and _urn burial_ is quotable--full of worldly wisdom and of an inspiration that is not of the world. browne was born in london, and not until he was thirty-two years of age did he settle in norwich, where he was "much resorted to for his skill in physic," and where he lived for forty-five years, when the fine church of st. peter mancroft, received his ashes--a church in which, let me add, with pardonable pride, my own grandfather and grandmother were married. i am glad that norwich is shortly to commemorate by a fitting monument not the least great of her sons, one who has been aptly called "the english montaigne." { } perhaps there are those who would dispute my claim for marryat and for sir thomas browne that they were east anglians--both were only east anglians by adoption. there are even those who dispute the claim for one whom i must count well-nigh the greatest of east anglian men of letters--george borrow. borrow, i maintain, was an east anglian if ever there was one, although this has been questioned by mr. theodore watts- dunton. now i have the greatest possible regard for mr. watts-dunton. he is distinguished alike as a critic, a poet, and a romancer. but i must join issue with him here, and you, i know, will forgive me for taking up your time with the matter; for if mr. watts-dunton were right, one of the chief glories would be shorn from our east anglian traditions. he denies in the introduction to a new edition of _the romany rye_, just published, the claim of borrow to be an east anglian, although borrow himself insisted that he was one. one might as well call charlotte bronte a yorkshire woman as call borrow an east anglian. he was no more an east anglian than an irishman born in london is an englishman. his father was a cornishman and his mother of french extraction. not one drop of east anglian blood was in the veins of borrow's father, and very little in the veins of his mother. borrow's ancestry was pure cornish on one side, and on the other mainly french. but such was the egotism of borrow that the fact of his having been born in east anglia made him look upon that part of the world as the very hub of the universe. well, i am not prepared to question the suggestion that east anglia is the hub of the universe, only to question mr. watts-dunton's position. there is virtue in that qualification of his that there was "very little" east anglian blood in the veins of borrow's mother, and that she was "mainly" french. as a matter of fact she was, of course, partly east anglian; that is to say, she must have had two or three generations of east anglian blood in her, seeing that it was her great-grandfather who settled in norfolk from france, and he and his children and grandchildren intermarried with the race. but i do not pin my claim for borrow upon that fact--the fact of three generations of his mother's family at dumpling green--or even on the fact that he was born near east dereham. there is nothing more certain than that we are all of us influenced greatly by our environment, and that it is this, quite as much as birth or ancestry, that gives us what characteristics we possess. it is the custom, for example, to call swift an irishman, whereas swift came of english parentage and lived for many of his most impressionable years in england. nevertheless, he may be justly claimed by the sister-island, for during a long sojourn in that country he became permeated with the subtle influence of the irish race, and in many things he thought and felt as an irishman. it is the custom to speak of maria edgeworth as an irish novelist, yet miss edgeworth was born in england of english parentage. nevertheless, she was quite as much an irish novelist as charles lever and samuel lover, for all her life was spent in direct communion with the irish race, and her books were irish books. it is, on the other hand, quite unreasonable to deny that charlotte bronte was a yorkshire woman. only once at the end of her life did she visit ireland for a few weeks. her irish father and her cornish mother doubtless influenced her nature in many ways, but not less certain was the influence of those wonderful moors around haworth, and the people among whom she lived. neither ireland nor cornwall has as much right to claim her as yorkshire. i am the last to disclaim the influence of what is sometimes called "celticism" upon english literature; upon this point i am certain that matthew arnold has said almost the last word. the celts--not necessarily the irish, as there are three or four races of celts in addition to the irish--have in the main given english literature its fine imaginative quality, and even where he cannot trace a celtic origin to an english writer we may fairly assume that there is celtic blood somewhere in an earlier generation. nevertheless, the impressions, as i have said, derived from environment are of the utmost vitality, and assuredly borrow was an east anglian, as sir thomas browne was an east anglian. in each writer you can trace the influence of our soil in a peculiar degree, and particularly in borrow. borrow was proud of being an east anglian, and we are proud of him. in _lavengro_, i venture to assert, we have the greatest example of prose style in our modern literature, and i rejoice to see a growing borrow cult, a cult that is based not on an acceptance of the narrower side of borrow--his furious ultra-protestantism, for example--as was the popularity that he once enjoyed, but upon the fact that he was a magnificent artist in words. no artist in words but is influenced by environment. charles kingsley, for example, who came from quite different surroundings, was profoundly influenced by the east anglian fen- country:-- "they have a beauty of their own, those great fens," he said, "a beauty of the sea, of boundless expanse and freedom. overhead the arch of heaven spreads more ample than elsewhere, and that vastness gives such cloud-lands, such sunrises, such sunsets, as can be seen nowhere else within these isles." but i must hasten on, although i would fain tarry long over george borrow and his works. i have said that east anglia is the country of great letter writers. first, there was margaret paston. there is no such contribution to a remote period of english history as that contained in the _paston letters_, and i think we must associate them with the name of a woman--margaret paston. margaret's husband, john paston; her son, sir john paston; and her second son, who, strangely enough, was also a john, and called himself "john paston the youngest," come frequently before us in the correspondence, but margaret paston is the central figure. it may not be without interest to some of my hearers who are married to recall that margaret paston addresses her husband not as "dear john," or "my dear john," as i imagine a wife of to-day would do, but as "right reverend and worshipful husband." nowhere is there such a vivid picture of a bygone age as that contained in these _paston letters_. we who sit quietly by the hearth in the reign of king edward vii may read what it meant to live by the hearth in the reign of king edward iv. it is curious that the most humane documents of far-off times in our history should all come from east anglia, not only those _paston letters_, brimful of the most vital interest concerning the reigns of henry vi and edward iv, but also an even earlier period--the life, or at least the monastic life in the time of the first richard and of king john is in a most extraordinarily human fashion mirrored for us in that chronicle of st. edmund's bury monastery known as the jocelyn chronicle, published by the camden society, which carlyle has vitalized so superbly for us in _past and present_. but i was speaking of the great letter writers, commencing with margaret paston. who are our greatest letter writers? undoubtedly they are horace walpole, william cowper and edward fitzgerald. you know what a superb picture of eighteenth century life has been presented to us in the nine volumes of correspondence we have by horace walpole. { } walpole was to all practical purposes an east anglian, although he happened to be born in london. his father, the great sir robert walpole, was a notable east anglian, and he had the closest ties of birth and association with east anglia. many of his letters were written from the family mansion of houghton. { } next in order comes william cowper. i believe that more than one literary historian has claimed cowper as a norfolk man. cowper was born in hertfordshire; he lived for a very great deal of his life in olney, in buckinghamshire, in london and in huntingdon, but if ever there was a man who took on the texture of east anglian scenery and east anglian life it was cowper. that beautiful river, the ouse, which empties itself into the wash, was a peculiar inspiration to cowper, and those who know the scenery of olney know that it has conditions exactly analogous in every way to those of east anglia. one of cowper's most beautiful poems is entitled "on receipt of my mother's portrait out of norfolk," and he himself, as i have said, found his last resting-place on east anglian soil--at east dereham. if there may be some doubt about cowper, there can be none whatever about edward fitzgerald, the greatest letter-writer of recent times. in mentioning the name of fitzgerald i am a little diffident. it is like introducing "king charles's head" into this gathering; for was he not the author of the poem known to all of us as the _rubaiyat of omar khayyam_, and there is no small tendency to smile to-day whenever the name of omar khayyam is mentioned and to call the cult a "lunacy." it is perhaps unfortunate that fitzgerald gave that somewhat formidable title to his paraphrase, or translation, of the old persian poet. it is not the fault of those who admire that poem exceedingly that it gives them a suspicion of affecting a scholarship that they do not in most cases possess. what many of us admire is not omar khayyam the persian, nor have we any desire to see or to know any other translation of that poet. we simply admit to an honest appreciation of the poem by edward fitzgerald, the suffolk squire, the poem that tennyson describes as "the one thing done divinely well." that poem by fitzgerald will live as long as the english language, and let it never be forgotten that it is the work of an east anglian, an east anglian who, like borrow, possessed a marked celtic quality, the outcome of a famous irish ancestry, nevertheless of an east anglian who loved its soil, its rivers and its sea. then i come to another phase of east anglian literary traditions. it is astonishing what a zest for learning its women have displayed; i might give you quite a long list of distinguished women who have come out of east anglia. crabbe must have had one in mind when he wrote of arabella in one of his _tales_:-- this reasoning maid, above her sex's dread had dared to read, and dared to say she read, not the last novel, not the new born play, not the mere trash and scandal of the day; but (though her young companions felt the shock) she studied berkeley, bacon, hobbes and locke. the one who perhaps made herself most notorious was harriet martineau, and in spite of her disagreeable egotism it is still a pleasure to read some of her less controversial writings. her _feats on the fiord_, for example, is really a classic. but i can never quite forgive harriet martineau in that she spoke contemptuously of east anglian scenery, scenery which in its way has charms as great as any part of europe can offer. no, in this roll of famous women, the two i am most inclined to praise are sarah austin and fanny burney. mrs. austin was, you will remember, one of the taylors of norwich, married to john austin, the famous jurist. she was one of the first to demonstrate that her sex might have other gifts than a gift for writing fiction, and that it was possible to be a good, quiet, domestic woman, and at the same time an exceedingly learned one. even before carlyle she gave a vogue to the study of german literature in this country; she wrote many books, many articles, and made some translations, notably what is still the best translation of von ranke's _history of the popes_. in the muster-roll of east anglian worthies let us never forget this singularly good woman, this correspondent of all the most famous men of her day, of guizot, of grote, of gladstone, and one who also, as a letter-writer, showed that she possessed the faculty that seems, as i have said, to be peculiar to the soil of east anglia. still less must we forget fanny burney, who, born in king's lynn, lived to delight her own generation by _evelina_ and by the fascinating _diary_ that gives so pleasant a picture of dr. johnson and many another of her contemporaries. _evelina_ and the _diary_ are two of my favourite books, but i practise self-restraint and will say no more of them here. i now come to my ninth, and last, name among those east anglian worthies whom i feel that we have a particular right to canonize--george crabbe--"though nature's sternest painter yet the best," as byron described him. now it may be frankly admitted that few of us read crabbe to-day. he has an acknowledged place in the history of literature, but there pretty well even well-read people are content to leave him. "what have our literary critics been about that they have suffered such a writer to drop into neglect and oblivion?" asks a recent quarterly reviewer. he does not live as cowper does by a few lyrics and ballads and by incomparable letters. scarcely a line of crabbe survives in current conversation. if you turn to one of those handy volumes of reference--dictionaries of quotation, as they are called--from which we who are journalists are supposed to obtain most of the literary knowledge that we are able to display on occasion, you will scarcely find a dozen lines of crabbe. and yet i venture to affirm that crabbe has a great and permanent place in literature, and that as he has been a favourite in the past, he will become a favourite in the future. crabbe can never lose his place in the history of literature, a place as the forerunner of wordsworth and even of cowper, but it would be a tragedy were he to drop out of the category of poets that are read. a dainty little edition in eight volumes is among my most treasured possessions. i have read it not as we read some so-called literature, from a sense of duty, but with unqualified interest. we have had much pure realism in these latter days; why not let us return to the most realistic of the poets. he was beloved by all the greatest among his contemporaries. scott and wordsworth were devoted to his work, and so also was jane austen. at a later date tennyson praised him. we have heard quite recently the story of mr. james russell lowell in his last illness finding comfort in reading scott's _rob roy_. let us turn to scott's own last illness and see what was the book he most enjoyed, almost on his deathbed:-- "read me some amusing thing," said sir walter, "read me a bit of crabbe." "i brought out the first volumes of his old favourite that i could lay hand on," says lockhart, "and turned to what i remembered was one of his favourite passages in it. he listened with great interest. every now and then he exclaimed, "capital, excellent, excellent, very good." cardinal newman and edward fitzgerald at the opposite poles, as it were, of religious impressions, agree in a devotion to crabbe's poetry. cardinal newman speaks of _tales of the hall_ as "a poem whether in conception or in execution one of the most touching in our language," and in a footnote to his _idea of a university_ he tells us that he had read the poem thirty years earlier with extreme delight, "and have never lost my love of it," and he goes on to plead that it is an absolute _classic_. not to have read crabbe, therefore, is not to know one of the most individual in the glorious muster-roll of english poets, and crabbe was pre-eminently an east anglian, born and bred in east anglia, and taking in a peculiar degree the whole character of his environment, as only shakspere, cowper and wordsworth among our great poets, have done. in conclusion, let me recapitulate that the names of marryat, sir thomas browne, george borrow, margaret paston, horace walpole, sarah austin, fanny burney, edward fitzgerald, and george crabbe are those that i prefer to associate with east anglian literature. we are well aware that literature is but an aspect of our many claims on the gratitude of those englishmen who have not the good fortune to be east anglians. we have given to the empire a great scholar in porson, a great statesman in sir robert walpole, a great lawyer in sir edward coke, great ecclesiastics in cardinal wolsey and archbishop parker, great artists in gainsborough, constable and crome, and perhaps above all great sailors in sir cloudesley shovel and the ever memorable lord nelson. personally i admire a certain rebel, kett the tanner, as much as any of those i have named. of all these east anglian worthies the praise has often been sung, but let me be pardoned if, on an occasion like this, i have dwelt rather at length on the less familiar association of east anglia with letters. that i have but touched the fringe of the subject is obvious. what might not be said, for example, concerning norwich as a literary centre under bishop stanley--the norwich of the taylors and the gurneys, possessed of as much real intellectual life as london can boast of to-day. what, again, might not be said of the influence upon writers from afar. read kingsley's _hereward the wake_, mr. swinburne's _midsummer holiday_, charles dickens' description of yarmouth and goldsmith's poetical description in his _deserted village_, where clearly houghton was intended. { } these, and a host of other memories touch the heart of all good east anglians, but that east anglians do not forget the living in doing honour to the dead is indicated by this gathering to-night. we are grateful to dr. augustus jessopp, to mr. walter rye, to mr. edward clodd, and to our guest of this evening, mr. william dutt, for keeping alive the folk-lore, the literary history, the historical tradition of that portion of the british isles to which we feel the most profound attachment by ties of residence or of kinship. vi. dr. johnson's ancestry a paper read before the members of the johnson club of london at simpson's restaurant in the strand. there is, i believe, a definite understanding among our members that we, the brethren of the johnson club, have each and all of us read every line about dr. johnson that is in print, to say nothing of his works. it is particularly accepted that the thirteen volumes in which our late brother, dr. birkbeck hill, enshrined his own appreciation of our great man, are as familiar to us all as are the bible and the book of common prayer. for my part, with a deep sense of the responsibility that must belong to any one who has rashly undertaken to read a paper before the club, i admit to having supplemented these thirteen volumes by a reperusal of the little book entitled _johnson club papers_, by various hands, issued in by brother fisher unwin. i feel as i reread these addresses that there were indeed giants in those days, although my admiration was moderated a little when i came across the statement of one brother that johnson's proposal for an edition of shakspere "came to nothing"; and the statement of another that "goldsmith's failings were almost as great and as ridiculous as boswell's;" while my bibliographical ire was awakened by the extraordinary declaration in an article on "dr. johnson's library," that a first folio edition of shakspere might have realized pounds in the year . still, i recognize the talent that illuminated the club in those closing years of the last century. happily for us, who love good comradeship, most of the giants of those days are still in evidence with their polished armour and formidable spears. what can i possibly say that has not already been said by one or other of the brethren? well, i have put together these few remarks in the hopes that no one of you has seen two books that are in my hands, the first, _the reades of blackwood hill_, _with some account of dr. johnson's ancestry_, by aleyn lyell reade; the other, _the life and letters of dr. birkbeck hill_, by his daughter mrs. crump. the first of these is privately printed, although it may be bought by any one of the brethren for a couple of guineas. as far as i am able to learn, brother augustine birrell is the only one of the brethren who has as yet purchased a copy. the other book, our brother birkbeck hill's biography, is to be issued next week by mr. edward arnold, who has kindly placed an early copy at my disposal. in both these volumes there is much food for reflection for all good johnsonians. dr. johnson's ancestry, it may be, makes little appeal to the crowd, but it will to the brethren. there is no more favourite subject for satire than the tendency to minute study of an author and his antecedents. but the lover of that author knows the fascination of the topic. he can forgive any amount of zeal. i confess that personally i stand amazed at the variety and interest of mr. reade's researches. let me take a sample case of his method before coming to the main issue. in the opening pages of boswell's _johnson_ there is some account of mr. michael johnson, the father. the most picturesque anecdote told of johnson senior is that concerning a young woman of leek in staffordshire, who while he served his apprenticeship there conceived a passion for him, which he did not return. she followed him to lichfield, where she took lodgings opposite to the house in which he lived, and indulged her hopeless flame. ultimately she died of love and was buried in the cathedral at lichfield, when michael johnson put a stone over her grave. this pathetic romance has gone unchallenged by all boswell's editors, even including our prince of editors, dr. birkbeck hill. mr. reade, it seems to me, has completely shattered the story, which, as all johnsonian students know, was obtained by boswell from miss anna seward. mr. reade is able to show that michael johnson had been settled in lichfield for at least eleven years before the death of elizabeth blaney, that for five years she had been the much appreciated domestic in a household in that city. her will indicates moreover a great affection for her mistress and for that mistress's son; she leaves the boy a gold watch and his mother the rest of her belongings. the only connexion that michael johnson would seem to have had with the woman was that he and his brother were called in after her decease to make an inventory of her little property. i think that these little facts about mistress blaney, her five years' residence at lichfield apparently in a most comfortable position, her omission of michael johnson from her will, and the fact that he had been in lichfield at least six months before she arrived, are conclusive. there is another picturesque fact about michael johnson that mr. reade has brought to light. it would seem that twenty years before his marriage to sarah ford, he had been on the eve of marriage to a young woman at derby, mary neyld; but the marriage did not take place, although the marriage bond was drawn out. mary was the daughter of luke neyld, a prominent tradesman of derby; she was twenty-three years of age at the time and michael twenty-nine. even mr. reade's industry has not been able to discover for us why at the very last moment the marriage was broken off. it explains, however, why michael johnson married late in life and his melancholia. the human romance that mr. reade has unveiled has surely a certain interest for johnsonians, for had michael johnson brought his first love affair to a happy conclusion, we should not have had the man described twenty years later as "possessed of a vile melancholy," who, when his wife's tongue wagged too much, got upon his horse and rode away. there would have been no samuel johnson, and there would have been no johnson club--a catastrophe which the human mind finds it hard to conceive of. two years after the breaking off of her engagement with michael johnson, i may add, mary neyld married one james warner. mr. reade also calls in question another statement of boswell's, that michael johnson was really apprenticed at leek in staffordshire; our only authority for this also is the excellent anna seward. further, it is sufficiently curious that the names of two samuel johnsons are recorded as being buried in one of the churches at lichfield, one before our samuel came into the world, the other three years later: of these, one died in , the other in . but these points, although of a certain interest, have nothing to do with dr. johnson's ancestry. now before we left our homes this evening, each member of the johnson brotherhood, as is his custom, turned up brother birkbeck hill's invaluable index to see what johnson had to say upon the subject of ancestry. we know that the doctor was very keen upon the founding of a family; that when mr. thrale lost his only son johnson's sympathies went out to him in a double way, and perhaps in the greater degree because as he said to boswell, "sir, don't you know how you yourself think? sir, he wished to propagate his name." johnson himself, boswell tells us, had no pretensions to blood. "i here may say," he said, "that i have great merit in being zealous for subordination and the honours of birth; for i can hardly tell who was my grandfather." johnson further informed mrs. thrale that he did not delight in talking much of his family: "there is little pleasure," he says, "in relating the anecdotes of beggary." he constantly deprecated his origin. according to miss seward, he told his wife before he married her that he was of mean extraction; but the letter in which miss seward gives her version of johnson's courtship is worth recalling, although i do not believe a single word of it:-- the rustic prettiness and artless manners of her daughter, the present mrs. lucy porter, had won johnson's youthful heart, when she was upon a visit at my grandfather's in johnson's school-days. disgusted by his unsightly form, she had a personal aversion to him, nor could the beautiful verses he addressed to her teach her to endure him. the nymph at length returned to her parents at birmingham, and was soon forgotten. business taking johnson to birmingham on the death of his own father, and calling upon his coy mistress there, he found her father dying. he passed all his leisure hours at mr. porter's, attending his sick bed, and in a few months after his death, asked mrs. johnson's consent to marry the old widow. after expressing her surprise at a request so extraordinary--"no, sam, my willing consent you will never have to so preposterous a union. you are not twenty- five, and she is turned fifty. if she had any prudence, this request had never been made to me. where are your means of subsistence? porter has died poor, in consequence of his wife's expensive habits. you have great talents, but, as yet, have turned them into no profitable channel." "mother, i have not deceived mrs. porter: i have told her the worst of me; that i am of mean extraction; that i have no money, and that i have had an uncle hanged. she replied, that she valued no one more or less for his descent; that she had no more money than myself; and that, although she had not had a relation hanged, she had fifty who deserved hanging." now why did dr. johnson take this attitude about his ancestry, so contrary to the spirit that guided him where other people's genealogical trees were concerned? it was certainly not indifference to family ties, because brother birkbeck hill publishes many interesting letters written by johnson in old age, when finding that he had a certain sum of money to bequeath, he looked around to see if there were any of his own kin living. the number of letters the old man wrote, inquiring for this or that kinsman, are quite pathetic. it seems to me that it was really due to an ignorant vagueness as to his family history. during his early years his family had passed from affluence to penury. they were of a type very common in england, but very rare in scotland and ireland, that take no interest whatever in pedigrees, and never discuss any but their immediate relations, with whom, in the case of the johnsons, very friendly terms did not prevail. i think we should be astonished if we were to go into some shops in london of sturdy prosperous tradesmen in quite as good a position as old michael johnson, and were to try and draw out one or other individual upon his ancestry. we should promptly come against a blank wall. what then do we know of johnson's father from the ordinary sources? that he was a bookseller at lichfield, and that he was sheriff of that city in the year that his son samuel was born; that he feasted the citizens, as johnson tells us, in his _annals_, with "uncommon magnificence." he is described by johnson as "a foolish old man," because he talked with too fond a pride of his children and their precocious ways. he was a zealous high churchman and jacobite. we are told by boswell further, on the authority of mr. hector of birmingham, that he opened a bookstall once a week in that city, but lost money by setting up as a maker of parchment. "a pious and most worthy man," mrs. piozzi tells us of him, "but wrong- headed, positive and affected with melancholia." "i inherited a vile melancholy from my father," johnson tells us, "which has made me mad all my life." when he died in his effects were estimated at pounds. "my mother had no value for his relations," johnson tells us. "those we knew were much lower than hers." of michael johnson's brother, andrew, johnson's uncle, we know still less. from the various johnson books we only cull the story mentioned in mrs. piozzi's _anecdotes_. she relates that johnson, after telling her of the prowess of his uncle, cornelius ford, at jumping, went on to say that he had another uncle, andrew--"my father's brother, who kept the ring at smithfield for a whole year, and was never thrown or conquered. here are uncles for you, mistress, if that is the way to your heart." mr. reade has supplemented this by showing us that not only was andrew johnson a skilful wrestler, but that he was a very good bookseller. for a time he assisted his brother in the conduct of the business at lichfield. later, however, he settled as a bookseller at birmingham, which was to be his home until his death over thirty years later. here he published some interesting books; the title- pages of some of these are given by mr. reade, who reproduces of course his will. he had a son named thomas who fell on evil days. you will find certain letters to thomas in birkbeck hill's edition; dr. johnson frequently helped him with money. of more interest, however, than andrew johnson was catherine, the one sister of michael and andrew, an aunt of samuel's, who was evidently for some unknown reason ignored by her two brothers. here we are not on absolutely firm ground, but it seems to me clear that catherine johnson married into a position far above her brothers. a fortnight before his death dr. johnson wrote to the rev. william vyse, rector of lambeth; a letter in which he asked him to find out "whether charles skrymsher"--he misspelt it "scrimshaw"--"of woodseaves"--he misspelt it "woodease"--"in your neighbourhood, be now alive," and whether he could be found without delay. he added that "it will be an act of great kindness to me," charles skrymsher being "very nearly related." charles skrymsher was not found, and johnson told dr. vyse that he was disappointed in the inquiries that he had made for his relations. this particular relation, indeed, had been twenty-two years dead when dr. johnson, probably with the desire of leaving him something in his will, made these inquiries. his mother, mrs. gerald skrymsher, was michael johnson's sister. one of her daughters became the wife of thomas boothby. boothby was twice married, and his two wives were cousins, the first, elizabeth, being the daughter of one sir charles skrymsher, the second, hester, as i have said, of gerald skrymsher, dr. johnson's uncle. hence johnson had a cousin by marriage who was a potentate in his day, for it is told of thomas boothby of tooley park, grand-nephew of a powerful and wealthy baronet, that he was one of the fathers of english sport. an issue of _the field_ newspaper for contains an engraving of a hunting horn then in the possession of the late master of the cheshire hounds, and upon the horn is the inscription: "thomas boothby, esq., tooley park, leicester. with this horn he hunted the first pack of fox hounds then in england fifty-five years." he died in . his eldest son took the maternal name of skrymsher, and under the title of thomas boothby skrymsher became m.p. for leicester, and an important person in his day. his wife was anne, daughter of sir hugh clopton of new place, stratford- on-avon. admirers of mrs. gaskell will remember the clopton legend told by her in howett's _visits to remarkable places_. i wish that i had time to follow mr. reade through all the ramifications of an interesting family history, but i venture to think that there is something pathetic in dr. johnson's inquiries a fortnight before his death as to cousins of whose life story he knew nothing, whose well-known family home of woodseaves he--the great lexicographer--could not spell correctly, and of whose very name he was imperfectly informed. yet he, the lover of family trees and of ancestral associations, was all his life in ignorance of these wealthy connexions and their many substantial intermarriages. before mr. reade it was known that johnson's father was a manufacturer of parchment as well as a bookseller; but it was supposed that only in his last few years or so of life did he undertake this occupation which ruined him. mr. reade shows that he had been for thirty years engaged in this trade in parchment. brother birkbeck hill quotes croker, who hinted that johnson's famous definition of excise as "a hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged not by the common judge of property but by wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid," was inspired by recollections of his father's constant disputes with the excise officers. mr. reade has unearthed documents concerning the crisis of this quarrel, when michael johnson in was indicted "for useing ye trade of a tanner." the indictment, which is here printed in full, charges him, "one michael johnson, bookseller," "that he did in the third year of the reign of our lord george by the grace of god now king of great britain, for his own proper gain, get up, use and exercise the art, mystery or manual occupation of a byrseus, in english a tanner, in which art, mystery or manual occupation of a tanner the said michael johnson was not brought up or apprenticed for the space of seven years, an evil example of all others offending in such like case." michael's defence was that he was "tanned for" and did not tan himself, he being only "a merchant in skins tradeing to ireland, scotland and the furthermost parts of england." the only known example of michael johnson's handwriting is this defence. michael was committed for trial but acquitted. it is probable, however, that this prosecution laid the foundation of his ruin. but i must pass on to the other branch: the family of dr. johnson's mother. here dr. johnson did himself a great injustice, for he had a genuine right to count his mother's "an old family," although the term is in any case relative. at any rate he could carry his pedigree back to . "in the morning," says boswell, "we had talked of old families, and the respect due to them. johnson said-- "'sir, you have a right to that kind of respect, and are arguing for yourself. i am for supporting the principle, and i am disinterested in doing it, as i have no such right.'" nevertheless, boswell, in this opening chapter, refers to the mother as "sarah ford, descended of an ancient race of substantial yeomanry in warwickshire," and johnson's epitaph upon his mother's tomb describes her as "of the ancient family of ford." thus one is considerably bewildered in attempting to reconcile johnson's attitude. the only one of his family for whom he seems to have had a good word was cornelius harrison, of whom, writing to mrs. thrale, he said that he was "perhaps the only one of my relations who ever rose in fortune above penury or in character above neglect." this cornelius was the son of john harrison, who had married johnson's aunt, phoebe ford. johnson's account of uncle john in his _annals_ is not flattering, but he was the son of a rector of pilborough, whose father was sir richard harrison, one of the gentlemen of the king's bedchamber, and a personality of a kind. cornelius, the reputable cousin, died in , but his descendants seem to have been a poor lot, whatever his ancestors may have been. mr. reade traces their history with all the relentlessness of the genealogist. johnson's great-grandfather was one henry ford, a yeoman in birmingham. one of his sons, henry, johnson's grand-uncle, was born in . he owned property at west bromwich and elsewhere, and was a fellow of clifford's inn, london. then we come to cornelius ford--"cornelius ford, gentleman," he is styled in his marriage settlement. cornelius died four months before samuel johnson was born. cornelius had a sister mary, who married one jesson, and their only son, i may mention incidentally, entered at pembroke college in , sixty years before his second-cousin, our samuel, entered the same college. another cousin by marriage was a mrs. harriots, to whom johnson refers in his _annals_, and also in his _prayers and meditations_. the only one of cornelius ford's family referred to in the biographies is joseph ford, the father of the notorious parson ford, johnson's cousin, of whom he several times speaks. joseph was a physician of eminence who settled at stourbridge. he married a wealthy widow, mrs. hickman. he was a witness to the marriage of his sister sarah to michael johnson. there can be no doubt but that the presence of dr. ford and his family at stourbridge accounts for johnson being sent there to school in . he stayed in the house of his cousin cornelius ford, not as boswell says his _uncle_ cornelius, at pedmore, about a mile from stourbridge. he walked in every day to the grammar school. a connexion of the boy, gregory hickman, was residing next to the grammar school. a kinsman of johnson and a descendant of hickman, dr. freer, still lives in the house. i met him at lichfield recently, and he has sent me a photograph of the very house, which stands to-day much as it did when johnson visited it, and wrote at twenty-two, a sonnet to dorothy hickman "playing at the spinet." dorothy was one of johnson's three early loves, with ann hector and olivia lloyd. dorothy married dr. john turtin and had an only child, dr. turtin, the celebrated physician who attended goldsmith in his last illness. i have not time to go through the record of all dr. johnson's uncles on the maternal side, and do full justice to mr. reade's industry and mastery of detail. i may, however, mention incidentally that the uncle who was hanged, if one was, must have been one of his father's brothers, for to the fords that distinction does not seem to have belonged. much that is entertaining is related of the cousin parson ford, who, after sharing with the famous earl of chesterfield in many of his profligacies, received from his lordship the rectory of south luffenham. there is no evidence, however, that chesterfield ever knew that his at one time chaplain and boon companion was cousin of the man who wrote him the most famous of letters. the mother of cornelius ford was a crowley, and this brings johnson into relationship with london city worthies, for mrs. ford's brother was sir ambrose crowley, kt., alderman, of london, the original of addison's jack anvil. one of sir ambrose crowley's daughters married humphrey parsons, sometime m.p. for london and twice lord mayor. thus we see that during the very years of johnson's most painful struggle in london one of his distant cousins or connexions was chief magistrate of this city. another connexion, elizabeth crowley, was married in at westminster abbey to john, tenth lord st. john of bletsoe. "here are ancestors for you, mistress," dr. johnson might have said to mrs. thrale if he had only known--if he had had a genealogist at his elbow as well as a pushful biographer. mr. reade prints the whole of the marriage settlement upon the union of johnson's mother and father. it is a very elaborate document, and suggests the undoubted prosperity of the parties at the time. the husband was fifty, the bride thirty-seven. samuel was not born until three years and three months after the marriage. the pair frequently in early married life received assistance by convenient deaths as the following extracts from wills indicate:-- _cornelius ford of packwood in the co. of warwick_. i give and bequeath unto my son-in-law michaell johnson the sum of five pounds, and to his wife my daughter five and twenty pounds. proved may , . _jane ford of old turnford_, _widow of joseph ford_. i do will and appoint that my son cornelius ford do and shall pay to my brother-in-law, mr. michael johnson and his wife and their trustees, the sum of pounds which is directed by his late father's will to be paid to me and in lieu of so much moneys which my said late husband received in trust for my said brother johnson and his wife. proved at worcester, october , . then "good cousin harriotts" does not forget them:-- i give and bequeath to my cousin sarah the wife of michael johnson the like sum of pounds for her own separate use, and one pair of my best flaxen sheets and pillow coats, a large pewter dish and a dozen of pewter plates, provided that her husband doth at the same time give the like bond to my executor to permit his wife to dispose of the same at her will and pleasure. elizabeth harriotts of trysall in staff., october , . but i must leave this fascinating volume. i cannot find time to tell you all it has to say about the porter family. mr. reade is as informative when treating of the porters, of mrs. johnson and her daughter lucy, as he is with the family trees of which i have spoken. i hasten on to dr. hill's _life_, with which i am only concerned here at the point where it is affected by mr. reade's book. the reflection inevitably arises that it is well-nigh impossible efficiently to do work involving research unless one has an income derived from other sources. your historian in proportion to the value of his work must be a rich man, and so must the biographer. good as brother birkbeck hill's work was, it would have been better if he had had more money. he might have had many of these wills and other documents copied, upon the securing of which mr. reade must have expended such very large sums. dr. hill was fully alive to this. "if i had not some private means," he wrote to a friend in , "i could never edit johnson and boswell; but i do not get so well paid as a carpenter." as a matter of fact, i find that he lost exactly pounds by publishing _dr. johnson_: _his friends and his critics_. he made pounds by the first four years' sale of the "boswell." this pounds, including american rights, made the bulk of his payments for his many years' work, and the book has not yet gone into a second edition. i think , were printed. there were between , and , copies of croker's editions sold, so that we must not be too boastful as to the improved taste of the present age. pounds is a mere bagatelle to numbers of our present writers of utterly foolish fiction. several of them have been known to spend double that sum on a single motor-car. in connexion with this matter i cannot refrain from giving one passage from a letter of brother hill's:-- my old friend d--- lamented that the two new volumes (of my _johnson miscellanies_) are so dear as to be above his reach. the net price is a guinea. on sunday he had eight glasses of hollands and seltzer--a shilling each, a pint of stout and some cider, besides half a dozen cigars or so. two days' abstinence from cigars and liquor would have paid for my book. mrs. crump, who writes her father's life, has expressed regret to me that there is so little in the book concerning the johnson club to which brother hill was so devoted. she had asked me for letters, but i felt that all in my possession were unsuited for publication, dealing rather freely with living persons. brother hill was impatient of the mere bookmaker--the literary charlatan who wrote without reading sufficiently. there are two pleasant glimpses of our club in the volume; i quote one. it was of the night that we discussed _dr. johnson as a radical_:-- i wish that you and lucy could have been present last night and witnessed my scene of triumph. i was indeed most nobly welcomed. the scribe told me with sympathetic pride that the correspondent of the _new york herald_ had asked leave to attend, as he wished to telegraph my paper out to america!!! as well as the discussion. there were some very good speeches made in the discussion that followed, especially by a mr. whale, a solicitor, who spoke remarkably well and with great knowledge of his _boswell_. he said that he preferred to call it, not johnson's radical side, but his humanitarian side. mr. birrell, the _obiter dicta_ man, also spoke very well. he is a clever fellow. he was equally complimentary. he maintained in opposition to mr. whale that radical was the right term, and in fact that radicalism and humanitarianism were the same. many of them said what a light the paper had thrown on johnson's character. one gentleman came up and congratulated me on the very delicate way in which i had handled so difficult a subject, and had not given offence to the liberal unionists and tories present. edmund gosse, by whom i sat, was most friendly, and called the paper a wonderful _tour de force_, referring to the way in which i had linked johnson's sayings. he asked me to visit him some day at trinity college, cambridge, and assured me of a hearty welcome. it is no wonder that what with the supper and the smoke i did not get to sleep till after two. among the guests was the great bonner, the australian cricketer, whose health had been drunk with that of the other visitors, and his praise sounded at having hit some balls over the pavilion at lord's. with great simplicity he said that after seeing the way in which johnson's memory was revered, he would much rather have been such a man than have gained his own greatest triumphs at cricket. he did not say it jocularly at all. another letter from dr. hill describes how he found himself at ashbourne in derbyshire with the club, or rather with a fragment of it. he wrote from the _green man_ there concerning his adventures. i have far exceeded my time, but i would like in conclusion to say how admirably his daughter has written this book on our brother birkbeck hill. what a pleasant picture it presents of a genuine lover of literature. his was not an analytical mind nor was he a great critic. his views on dante and newman will not be shared by any of us. but, what is far more important than analysis or criticism, he had an entirely lovable personality and was a most clubbable man. he was moreover the ideal editor of boswell. what more could be said in praise of a beloved brother of the johnson club! vii. the private life of ferdinand lassalle { } ich habe die inventur meines lebens gemacht. es war gross, brav, wacker, tapfer und glanzend genug. eine kunftige zeit wird mir gerecht zu warden wissen. --ferdinand lassalle, _august_ , . i. the countess sophie von hatzfeldt. ferdinand lassalle was born at breslau on april , . his parents were of jewish race, his father a successful silk merchant. from boyhood he was now the tyrant, now the slave of a mother whom he loved and by whom he was adored. heymann lassal--his son changed the spelling during his paris sojourn--appears to have been irritable and tyrannical; and there are some graphic instances in the recently published "diary" { } of the differences between them, ending on one occasion in the boy rushing to the river, where his terrified father finds him hesitating on the brink, and becomes reconciled. a more attractive picture of the old man is that told of his visit to his son-in-law, friedland, who had married lassalle's sister. friedland was ashamed of his jewish origin, and old lassalle startled the guests at dinner by rising and frankly stating that he was a jew, that his daughter was a jewess, and that her husband was of the same race. the guests cheered, but the host never forgave his too frank father-in-law. lassalle was a student at breslau university, and later at berlin, where he laid the foundation of those hegelian studies to which he owed his political philosophy. in he went to paris, and there secured the friendship of heine, being included with george sand in the interesting circle around the "mattress grave" of the sick poet. among heine's letters { } there are four addressed to lassalle, now as "dear and best beloved friend," now as "dearest brother-in-arms." "be assured," he says, "that i love you beyond measure. i have never before felt so much confidence in any one." "i have found in no one," he says again, "so much passion and clearness of intellect united in action. you have good right to be audacious--we others only usurp this divine right, this heavenly privilege." and to varnhagen von ense he writes:-- my friend, herr lassalle, who brings you this letter, is a young man of the most remarkable intellectual gifts. with the most thorough erudition, with the widest learning, with the greatest penetration that i have ever known, and with the richest gift of exposition, he combines an energy of will and a capacity for action which astonish me. . . . in no one have i found united so much enthusiasm and practical intelligence. "in every line," says brandes, "this letter shows the far-seeing student of life, indeed, the prophet!" lassalle is not backward in reciprocating the enthusiasm. "i love heine," he declares; "he is my second self. what audacity! what crushing eloquence! he knows how to whisper like a zephyr when it kisses rose-blooms, how to breathe like fire when it rages and destroys; he calls forth all that is tenderest and softest, and then all that is fiercest and most daring. he has the command of all the range of feeling." lassalle's sympathy with heine never lessened. it was heine who lost grasp of the intrinsically higher nature of his countryman and co-religionist, and an acute difference occurred, as we shall see, when lassalle interfered in the affairs of the countess von hatzfeldt. introduced to the countess by his friend dr. mendelssohn, in , lassalle felt that here in concrete form was scope for all his enthusiasm of humanity, and he determined to devote his life to championing the cause of the oppressed lady. { } the countess was the wife of a wealthy and powerful nobleman, who ill-treated her shamefully. he imprisoned her in his castles, refused her doctors and medicine in sickness, and carried off her children. her own family, as powerful as the count, had often intervened, and the count's repentances were many but short-lived. in matters reached a crisis. the count wrote to his second son, paul, asking him to leave his mother. the boy carried this letter to the countess; and lassalle relates that, finding the lady in tears, he persuaded her to a full disclosure of the facts. he pledged himself to save her, and for nine years carried on the struggle, with ultimate victory, but with considerable loss of reputation. he first told the story to mendelssohn and oppenheim, two friends of great wealth, the latter a judge of one of the superior courts in prussia. they agreed to help him; for then, as always, lassalle's persuasive powers were irresistible. they went with him from berlin to dusseldorf, the count being in that neighbourhood. von hatzfeldt was at aix-la-chapelle, caught in the toils of a new mistress, the baroness meyendorff. lassalle discovered that she had obtained from the count a deed assigning to her some property which should in the ordinary course have come to the boy paul. the countess, hearing of the disaster which seemed likely to befall her favourite son, made her way into her husband's presence, and in the scene which followed secured a promise that the document should be revoked--destroyed. but no sooner had she left him than the count returned to the meyendorff influence, and refused to see his wife again. soon afterwards it was discovered that the woman had set out for cologne. lassalle begged his friends oppenheim and mendelssohn, to follow her and, if possible, to ascertain whether the momentous document had actually been destroyed. they obeyed, and reached the hotel at cologne about the same time as the baroness. here they were guilty of an indiscretion, if of nothing worse, for which lassalle can surely in no way be blamed, but which was used for many a year to tarnish his name. oppenheim, on his way upstairs, observed a servant with the luggage of the baroness; among other things a desk or casket of a kind commonly used to carry valuable papers. thinking only of the fact that it was desirable to obtain a certain document from the brutal count, he pounced upon the casket when the servant's back was turned. but he had no luggage with him in which to conceal it, and so handed it to mendelssohn. mendelssohn, although fully sensible of the blunder that had been committed, could not desert his friend, and placed the casket in his trunk. the whole hotel was in an uproar when the baroness discovered her loss. the friends fled panic-stricken in opposite directions. suspicion immediately fell upon dr. mendelssohn, because his room was seen to have been left in confusion. he was pursued, but succeeded in escaping from a railway carriage and fleeing to paris, leaving his luggage in the hands of the police. in his box some papers were found which incriminated oppenheim; and oppenheim, a judge of one of the superior courts, and the son of a millionaire, was arrested and imprisoned for theft! lassalle visited oppenheim in prison, and extracted from him a promise of silence as to the motive for his conduct. he then threw himself vigorously into the struggle, both in the press and in the law courts. here he seems to have parted company with heine, because, as he tells us, "the baroness meyendorff was a friend of the princess de lieven, and the princess de lieven was the mistress of guizot, and heine received a pension from guizot." oppenheim was acquitted in , and mendelssohn, who was really innocent of the actual robbery, naturally thought it safe to return to germany. he was, however, tried before the assize court of cologne, and sentenced to five years' imprisonment. alexander von humboldt obtained a reduction of the sentence to one year, but on condition that mendelssohn should leave europe. he went, after his release from prison, to constantinople, and when the crimean war broke out joined the turkish army, dying on the march in . meanwhile germany rang for many years with the story of the so-called robbery, and lassalle's name was even more associated therewith than were those of his more culpable friends. and this was not unnatural, because he was engaged year after year in continuous warfare with count hatzfeldt. at length, in , about the time that the unfortunate dr. mendelssohn died in the east, he secured for the countess complete separation and an ample provision. lassalle's friendship with this lady inevitably gave rise to scandal. but never surely was scandal so little justified. she was twenty years his senior, and the relation was clearly that of mother and son. in her letters he is always "my dear child," and in his she is the confidante of the innumerable troubles of mind and of heart of which so impressionable a man as ferdinand lassalle had more than his share. "you are without reason and judgment where women are concerned," she tells him, when he confides to her his passion for helene von donniges; and the remark opens out a vista of confidences of which the world happily knows but little. from the assize court of dusseldorf, of all places, we have a very definite glimpse of a good-looking man, likely to be a favourite in the society of the opposite sex:-- "ferdinand lassalle," runs the official document, "aged twenty-three, a civilian, born at breslau, and dwelling recently at berlin. stands five feet six inches in height, has brown curly hair, open forehead, brown eyebrows, dark blue eyes, well proportioned nose and mouth, and rounded chin." he was indeed a favourite in berlin drawing-rooms, pronounced a "wunderkind" by humboldt, and enthusiastically admired on all sides. but, assuming the story of sophie solutzeff to be mythical, there is no evidence that lassalle had ever had any very serious romance in his life until he met helene von donniges. _es ist eine alte geschichte_, _doch bleibt sie immer neu_.--heine. ii. helene von donniges helene von donniges has told us the story in fullest detail--the story of that tragic love which was to send lassalle to his too early death. she was the daughter of a bavarian diplomatist who had held appointments in italy, and later in switzerland. she was betrothed as a child of twelve to an italian of forty years of age. at a time when, as she says, her thoughts should have been concentrated upon her studies, they were distracted by speculations on marriage and the marriage tie. a young wallachian student named yanko racowitza crossed her path. his loneliness--he was far from home and friends--kindled her sympathy. dark and ugly, she compared him to othello, and called him her "moor." in spite of some parental opposition she insisted upon plighting her troth to him, and the italian lover was scornfully dismissed. then comes the opening scene of the present story. it was in berlin, whither helen--we will adopt the english spelling of the name--had travelled with her grandmother in , that she was asked at a ball the momentous question, "do you know lassalle?" she had never heard his name. her questioner was baron korff, a son-in-law of meyerbeer, who, charmed by her originality, remarked that she and lassalle were made for one another. two weeks later her curiosity was further excited, when dr. karl oldenberg let fall some similar remark as to her intellectual kinship with the mysterious lassalle. she asked her grandmother about him, and was told that he was a "shameless demagogue." then she turned to her lover, who promised to inquire. racowitza brought her information about the countess, the casket, and other "sensations"--only to excite her curiosity the more. finally a friend, frau hirsemenzel, undertook to introduce her to the notorious socialist. the introduction took place at a party, and if her account is to be trusted, no romance could be more dramatic than the actuality. they loved one another at first sight, conversed with freedom, and he called her by an endearing name as he offered her his arm to escort her home. "somehow it did not seem at all remarkable," she says, "that a stranger should thus call me 'du' on first acquaintance. we seemed to fit to one another so perfectly." she was in her nineteenth year, lassalle in his thirty-ninth. the pair did not see one another again for some months, not in fact until helen visited berlin as the guest of a certain lawyer holthoff. here she met lassalle at a concert, and the friendly lawyer connived at their being more than once together. at a ball, on one occasion, lassalle asked her what she would do if he were sentenced to death, and she beheld him ascending the scaffold. "i should wait till your head was severed," was her answer, "in order that you might look upon your beloved to the last, and then--i should take poison." he was pleased with her reply, but declared that there was no fear--his star was in the ascendant! and so it seemed; for although young racowitza even then accosted him in the ballroom, the friendly holthoff soon arranged an informal betrothal; and lassalle was on the eve of a great public triumph which seemed more likely to take him to the throne than to the scaffold. to many this will seem an exaggeration. yet hear prince bismarck in the reichstag seventeen years after lassalle's death:-- he was one of the most intellectual and gifted men with whom i have ever had intercourse, a man who was ambitious in high style, but who was by no means republican: he had very decided national and monarchical sympathies, and the idea which he strove to realize was the german empire, and therein we had a point of contact. lassalle was extremely ambitious, and it was perhaps a matter of doubt to him whether the german empire would close with the hohenzollern dynasty or the lassalle dynasty; but he was monarchical through and through. lassalle was an energetic and very intellectual man, to talk with whom was very instructive. our conversations lasted for hours, and i was always sorry when they came to an end. { } the year , which was to close so tragically, opened indeed with extraordinary promise. lassalle left berlin in may--helen had gone back to geneva two or three months earlier--travelling by leipzig and cologne through the rhenish provinces, and holding a "glorious review" the while. "i have never seen anything like it," he writes to the countess von hatzfeldt. "the entire population indulged in indescribable jubilation. the impression made upon me was that such scenes must have attended the founding of new religions." and it appeared possible that heine's description of lassalle as the messiah of the nineteenth century was to be realized. the bishop of mayence was on his side, and the king of prussia sympathetic. as he passed from town to town the whole population turned out to do him honour. countless thousands met him at the stations: the routes were ornamented with triumphal arches, the houses decorated with wreaths, and flowers were thrown upon him as he passed. as the cavalcade approached the town of ronsdorf, for example, it was easy to see that the people were on tip-toe with expectation. at the entrance an arch bore the inscription:-- willkommen dem dr. ferdinand lassalle viel tausendmal im ronsdorfer thal! under arches and garlands, smothered with flowers thrown by young work- girls, whose fathers, husbands, brothers, cheered again and again, lassalle and his friends entered the town, while a vast multitude followed in procession. it was at ronsdorf that lassalle made the speech which had in it something of fateful presentiment:-- "i have not grasped this banner," he said, "without knowing quite clearly that i myself may fall. the feelings which fill me at the thought that i may be removed cannot be better expressed than in the words of the roman poet: '_exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor_!' or in german, '_moge_, _wenn ich beseitigt werde_, _irgend ein racher und nachfolger aus meinen gebeinen auferstehen_!' may this great and national movement of civilization not fall with my person, but may the conflagration which i have kindled spread farther and farther, so long as one of you still breathes. promise me that, and in token raise your right hands." all hands were raised in silence, and the impressive scene closed with a storm of acclamation. but lassalle was worn out, and he fled for a time from the storm and conflict to switzerland. helen at geneva heard of his sojourn at righi- kaltbad, and she made an excursion thither with two or three friends, and thus on july ( ) the lovers met again. an account of their romantic interview comes to us in helen's own diary and in the letter which lassalle wrote to the countess hatzfeldt two days later. helen tells how they climbed the kulm together, discussing by the way the question of their marriage and the possibility of opposition. "what have your parents against me?" asked lassalle; and was told that only once had she mentioned his name before them, and that their horror of the jew agitator had ever since closed her mouth. so the conversation sped. the next morning their hope of "a sunrise" was destroyed by a fog. "how often," says helen, "when in later years i have stood upon the summit of the righi and seen the day break in all its splendour, have i recalled this foggy, damp morning, and lassalle's disappointment!" as he looked upon her, so pale and trembling, he abused the climate, and promised that he would give up politics, devote himself to science and literature, and take her to egypt or india. he talked to her of the countess, "who will think only of my happiness," and he talked of religion. was his jewish faith against him in her eyes? mahommedanism and judaism, it was all one to her, was the answer, but paganism by preference! they parted, to correspond immediately, and lassalle to write to the astonished, and in this affair, unsympathetic countess, of the meeting with his beloved. with the utmost friendliness, however, he endeavoured to keep the elder lady at a distance for a time. on july helen writes to him, repeating her promise to become his wife. you said to me yesterday: "say but a sensible and decided 'yes'--_et je me charge du reste_." good; i say "yes"--_chargez-vous donc du reste_. i only require that we first do all in our power to win my parents to a friendly attitude. to me belongs, however, a painful task. i must slay in cold blood the true heart of yanko von racowitza, who has given me the purest love, the noblest devotion. with heartless egotism i must destroy the day-dream of a noble youth. but for your sake i will even do what is wrong. meanwhile lassalle's unhappy attempts to conciliate the countess continue. he writes of helen's sympathy and dwells upon her entire freedom from jealousy. he tells frau von hatzfeldt how much helen is longing to see his old friend. in conclusion, as though not to show himself too blind a lover, he remarks that helen's one failing is a total lack of will. "when, however, we are man and wife," he adds, "then shall i have 'will' enough for both, and she will be as clay in the hands of the potter." the countess continues obdurate, and in a further letter (aug. ) lassalle says:-- it is really a piece of extraordinary good fortune that, at the age of thirty-nine and a half, i should be able to find a wife so beautiful, so sympathetic, who loves me so much, and who--an indispensable requirement--is so entirely absorbed in my personality. at lassalle's request, helen herself wrote thus to the baroness von hatzfeldt:-- dear and beloved countess,-- armed with an introduction from my lord and master, i, his affianced wife, come to you--unhappily only in writing--_le coeur et la main ouverte_, and beg of you a little of that friendship which you have given to him so abundantly. how deeply do i regret that your illness separates us, that i cannot tell you face to face how much i love and honour him, how ardently i long for your help and advice as to how i can best make my beautiful and noble eagle happy. this my first letter must necessarily seem somewhat constrained to you; for i am an insignificant, unimportant being, who can do nothing but love and honour him, and strive to make him happy. i would fain dance and sing like a child, and drive away all care from him. my one desire is to understand his great and noble nature, and in good fortune and in bad to stand faithful and true by his side. then followed a further appeal for the love and help of this friend of lassalle's early years. it was all in vain. instead of a letter, helen received from the countess what she called "a scrawl," and lassalle a long homily on his lack of judgment and foresight. lassalle defended himself, and so the not too pleasing correspondence went on. yet these days in berne were the happiest in the lives of lassalle and his betrothed. helen was staying with a madame aarson, and was constantly visited by her lover. it was agreed between them that lassalle should follow her to geneva, and see her parents. but no sooner had he entered his room at the pension leovet, in the neighbourhood of the house of herr von donniges, than a servant handed him a letter from helen. it told how on her arrival she had found the whole house excited by the betrothal of her sister margaret to count von keyserling. her mother's delight in the engagement had tempted her (contrary to lassalle's express wish) to confidences, and she had told of her love for the arch-agitator. her mother had turned upon her with loathing, execrated lassalle without stint, spoken scornfully of the countess, the casket robbery, and kindred matters. "it is quite impossible," urged the frantic woman, "that count keyserling will unite himself to a family with a connexion of this kind." the father joined in the upbraiding, the disowning of an undutiful daughter. one has but to remember the vulgar, tradesman instinct, which then, as now, guides the marriage ideals of a certain class, to take in the whole situation at a glance. lassalle had hardly begun to read the letter when helen appeared before him, and begged him to take her away immediately--to france--anywhere! her father's violence, her mother's abuse, had driven her to despair. lassalle was indignant with her. why had she not obeyed him? he would speak to her father. all would yet be well. but--she was compromised there--at his hotel. had she a friend in the neighbourhood? at this moment her maid came in to say that there was a carriage ready to take them to the station. a train would start for paris in a quarter of an hour. helen renewed her entreaty, but lassalle remained resolute. he would only receive her from her father. to what friend could he take her? helen named madame caroline rognon, who beheld them with astonishment. a few minutes later frau von donniges and her daughter margaret entered the house. then followed a disagreeable scene between lassalle and the mother, ending, after many scornful words thrown at the ever self-restrained lover, in helen being carried off before his eyes--indeed, by his wish. lassalle had shown dignity and self-restraint, but he had killed the girl's love--until it was too late. duhring speaks of lassalle's "inconceivable stupidity," and there is a great temptation at this date, with all the circumstances before us, to look at the matter with duhring's eyes. but to one whom heine had called a messiah, whom humboldt had termed a "wunderkind," and bismarck had greeted as among the greatest men of the age, it may well have seemed flatly inconceivable that this insignificant little swiss diplomatist could long refuse the alliance he proposed. yet stronger and more potent may have been the feeling--although of this there is no positive evidence extant--that the social movement which he had so much at heart could not well endure a further scandal. the hatzfeldt story had been used against him frequently enough. an elopement--so sweetly romantic under some circumstances--would have been the ruin of his great political reputation. lassalle speedily regretted his course of action--what man in love would not have done so?--but his first impulse was consistent with the life of strenuous effort for the cause he had embraced. to a romantic girl, however, his conduct could but seem brutal and treacherous. helen had done more than enough. she had compromised herself irretrievably, and an immediate marriage was imperatively demanded by the conventionalities. she was, however, seized by a brutal father and confined to her room, until she understood that lassalle had left geneva. then the entreaties of her family, the representation that her sister's marriage, even her father's position, were in jeopardy, caused her to declare that she would abandon lassalle. at this point the story is conflicting. helen herself says that she never saw lassalle again after he had handed her over to her mother, and that after a long period of ill-usage and petty persecution, she was hurried one night across the lake. becker, however, declares that as lassalle and his friend rustow were walking in geneva a carriage passed them on the way to the station containing helen and another lady, and that helen acknowledged their salute. anyway, it is clear that helen went to bex on august , and that lassalle left geneva on the th. letter after letter was sent by lassalle to helen--one from karlsruhe on the th, and one from munich on the th, but no answer. in karlsruhe, according to von hofstetten, lassalle wept like a child. his correspondence with the countess and with colonel rustow becomes forcible in its demands for assistance. writing to rustow, he tells of a two hours' conversation with the bavarian minister for foreign affairs, baron von schrenk, who assures him of his sympathy, says that he cannot understand the objections of von donniges, and that in similar circumstances he would be proud of the alliance, although he deprecated the political views of lassalle. finally this accommodating minister of state--here, at least, the tragi-comedy is but too apparent--engages to send a lawyer, dr. haenle, as an official commissioner to negotiate with the obdurate father and refractory ambassador. richard wagner, the great composer, the bishop of mayence, and noblemen, generals, and scholars without number were also pressed into the service, but in vain. the treachery of intimate friends more than counterbalanced all that could be achieved by well-meaning strangers. if helen is to be believed--and the charge is not denied--lassalle's friend holthoff, sent to negotiate in his favour, entreated her to abandon lassalle, and to comply with her parents' wishes. lassalle, he declared, was not in any way a suitable husband, and her father had decided wisely. the poor girl lived in a constant atmosphere of petty persecution. her father, she was told, might lose his post in the bavarian service if she married this socialist, her brother would have absolutely no career open to him, her sisters could not marry in their own rank of life; in fact, the whole family were alleged to be entirely unhappy and miserable through her stubbornness. the following letter--obviously dictated--was the not unnatural outcome:-- to herr lassalle. sir,-- i have again become reconciled to my betrothed bridegroom, herr yanko von racowitza, whose love i have regained, and i deeply repent my earlier action. i have given notice of this to your legal representative, herr holthoff, and i now declare to you of my own free will and firm conviction, that there never can be any further question of a marriage between us, and that i hold myself in all respects to be released from such an engagement. i am now firmly resolved to devote to my aforesaid betrothed bridegroom my eternal love and fidelity. helene von donniges. this letter came through rustow, and lassalle addressed the following reply to helen, which, however, she never received--it came in fact into the possession of the countess--a sufficient commentary on the duplicity and the false friendship not only of holthoff, but of colonel rustow and the countess hatzfeldt in this sad affair. munich, _aug._ , . helen,-- my heart is breaking! rustow's letter will kill me. that you have betrayed me seems impossible! even now i cannot believe in such shamelessness, in such frightful treachery. it is only for a moment that some one has overridden your will and obliterated your true self. it is inconceivable that this can be your real, your abiding determination. you cannot have thrown aside all shame, all love, all fidelity, all truth. if you did, you would dishonour and disfigure humanity. there can be no truth left in the world if you are false, if you are capable of descending to this depth of abandonment, of breaking such holy oaths, of crushing my heart. then there is nothing more under the sun in which a man can still believe. have you not filled me with a longing to possess you? have you not implored me to exhaust all proper measures, before carrying you away from wabern? have you not by your own lips and by your letters, sworn to me the most sacred oaths? have you not declared to me, even in your last letters, that you were nothing, nothing but my loving wife, and that no power on earth should stay your resolution? and now, after you have bound this true heart of mine to yourself so strongly, this heart which when once it gives itself away gives itself for ever; now, when the battle has scarcely begun, do you cast me off? do you betray me? do you destroy me? if so, you succeed in doing what else no fate can do; you will have crushed and shattered one of the hardest of men, who could withstand unflinchingly all outward storms. no, i can never survive such treachery. it will kill me inwardly and outwardly. it is not possible that you are so dishonourable, so shameless, so reckless of duty, so utterly unworthy and infamous. if you were, you would deserve of me the most deadly hatred. you would deserve the contempt of the world. helen, it is not your own resolution which you have communicated to rustow. some one has fastened it upon you by a coercion of your better feelings. listen to me. if you abide by this resolution, you will lament it as long as you live. helen, true to my words, "_je me charge du reste_," i shall stay here, and shall take all possible steps to break down your father's opposition. i have already excellent means in my hand, which will certainly not remain unused, and if they do not succeed, i shall still possess thousands of other means, and i will grind all hindrances to dust if you will but remain true to me. if you remain true, there is no limit to my strength or to my love of you, _je me charge toujours du reste_! the battle is hardly begun, you cowardly girl. but can it be, that while i sit here, and have already achieved what seemed impossible, you are betraying me, and listening to the flattering words of another man? helen, my fate is in your hands! but if you destroy me by this wicked treachery, from which i cannot recover, then may evil fall upon you, and my curse follow you to the grave! this is the curse of a true heart, of a heart that you wantonly break, and with which you have cruelly trifled. yes, this curse of mine will surely strike you. according to rustow's message, you want your letters to be returned to you. in any case, you will never receive them otherwise than from me--after a personal interview. for i must and will speak to you personally, and to you alone. i must and will hear my death-doom from your own lips. it is only thus that i can believe what otherwise seems impossible to me. i am continuing here to take further steps to win you, and when i have done all that is possible, i shall come to geneva. helen, our destinies are entwined! f. lassalle. { } it is pitiable to realize the amount of false or imperfect friendship which led lassalle on to his ruin. rustow was false, and holthoff was false, if it were not rather that both looked upon lassalle's affection for this girl, half his age, as a mad freak to be cured and forgotten. more might have been expected from the countess, to whom lassalle had given so much pure and disinterested devotion; but here again, a sense of maternal ownership in lassalle was sufficient to justify, in such a woman, any means to keep him apart from this fancy of the hour. to the countess, however, helen had turned for help, and had received a note which had but enraged her, and made the breach between her and lassalle yet wider. in the after years, helen published one letter and the countess another as the actual reply of the countess to helen's appeal, and the truth will now never be known. meanwhile dr. arndt, a nephew of von donniges, had gone to berlin to fetch yanko von racowitza. of yanko helen has herself given us a pleasant picture, as the one man for whom she really cared until the overwhelming presence of lassalle appeared upon the scene, as her one friend during her persecution. absent from lassalle's influence, it was not strange that the delicate wallachian--even younger than herself and the slave of her every whim--should have an influence in her life. had lassalle, however, had yet another personal interview with her, there can scarcely be a doubt that she would have been as he had once said, "as clay in the hands of the potter"--but this was not to be. lassalle came back to geneva on august , and immediately wrote an earnest letter to herr von donniges, begging for an interview, and stating that he had not the least enmity towards him for what had happened. with the fear of the foreign minister at munich before his eyes helen's father could not well refuse again, and the interview took place. lassalle, according to von donniges, demanded that yanko von racowitza should be forbidden the house, while he himself should have ready access to helen. he further charged von donniges with cruelty to his daughter, and was called a liar to his face, while even the cook was called upon the scene to give her evidence as to the domestic ethics of this family circle. the letter of von donniges to dr. haenle was clearly meant to be shown to the foreign minister, and the wily diplomatist naturally took the opportunity both to justify himself and to vilify lassalle. then began a painful dispute as to whether herr von donniges had ill-used his daughter; the overwhelming evidence, which includes the testimony of that daughter, written long after her father's death, tending to prove the truth of lassalle's allegation. lassalle meanwhile found no opportunity of approaching helen, and having every reason to believe that she was entirely faithless, gave up the struggle. he referred to the girl in language characteristic of a despairing and jilted lover, and sent von donniges a challenge, although many years before, in a political controversy, he had declined to fight--on principle. his seconds were to be general becker and colonel rustow, and the latter has left us a long account of the affair. on the appointed day, august , rustow went everywhere to look for herr von donniges, but the minister had fled to berne. rustow then saw lassalle at the rooms of the countess von hatzfeldt. lassalle mentioned that he had that morning had his challenge accepted by von racowitza, whose seconds were count keyserling and dr. arndt. rustow insisted, both to lassalle and to racowitza's friends, that von donniges should have priority, but was overruled; and it was agreed that the duel should be fought that very evening. rustow protested that he could not find another second in so short a time--general becker does not seem to have been available--but at length it was arranged that general bethlem should be asked to fill the office, and that the duel should take place on the following morning, august . there seems to have been considerable difficulty in finding suitable pistols, and at the last moment general bethlem declined to be a second, and herr von hofstetten consented to act. rustow called upon lassalle at the victoria hotel at five o'clock. at half-past six the party started for carouge, a village in the neighbourhood of geneva, which they reached an hour later. lassalle was quite cheerful, and perfectly confident that he would come unharmed out of the conflict. the opponents faced one another and racowitza wounded lassalle, who was carried by rustow and dr. seiler to a coach, and thence to the victoria hotel, geneva. he suffered dreadfully both then and afterwards, and was only relieved by a plentiful use of opium. three days later, on wednesday, august , , he died. was it the chance shot of a delicate boy that killed one of the most remarkable men of the nineteenth century, or was it a planned attack upon one who loved the people? this last view was taken and is still taken by many of his followers; but it is needless to say that it has no foundation in fact. lassalle was killed by a chance shot, and killed in a duel which had not even the doubtful justification of hatred of his opponent. "count me no longer as a rival; for you i have nothing but friendship," were the words written to racowitza at the moment that he challenged von donniges, and he declared on his death-bed that he died by his own hand. the revolutionists of all lands assembled around his dead body, which was embalmed by order of the countess. this woman talked loudly of vengeance, called not only von racowitza but helen a murderer, { } little thinking that posterity would judge her more hardly than helen. she proposed to take the corpse in solemn procession through germany; but an order from the prussian government disturbed her plans, and at breslau, lassalle's native town, it was allowed to rest. lassalle is buried in the family vault in the jewish cemetery, and a simple monument bears the inscription: here rests what is mortal of ferdinand lassalle, the thinker and the fighter. to understand the whole tragedy and to justify its great victim is to feel something of the strain which comes to every thinker and fighter who, like lassalle, writes and speaks persistently to vast audiences, often against great odds, and always with the prospect of a prison before him. that his nerves were utterly unstrung, that he was not his real self in those last days, is but too evident. armed, as he claimed, with the entire culture of his century, a maker of history if ever there was one, he became the victim of a love drama which i suppose that mr. matthew arnold would describe as of the surgeon's apprentice order: but which, apart from his political creed, will always endear him to men and women who have "lived and loved." and what shall we say of helen von donniges? her own story is surely one of the most romantic ever written. in _my relation to ferdinand lassalle_, she tells how yanko broke to her the news that he was going to fight lassalle, and how much she grieved. "lassalle will inevitably kill yanko," she thought; and she pitied him, but her pity was not without calculation. "when yanko is dead and they bring his body here, there will be a stir in the house," she said, "and i can then fly to lassalle." but the hours flew by, and finally yanko came to tell her that he had wounded his opponent. for the moment, and indeed until after lassalle's death, she hated her successful lover; but a little later his undoubted goodness, his tenderness and patience, won her heart. they were married, but he died within a year, of consumption. being disowned by her relations, helen then settled in berlin, and studied for the stage. she herself relates how at breslau on one occasion, when acting a boy's part in one of moser's comedies, some of lassalle's oldest friends being present remarked upon her likeness to lassalle in his youth, a resemblance on which she and lassalle had more than once prided themselves. at a later date frau von racowitza married a russian socialist, s. e. shevitch, then resident in america. m. shevitch returned to russia a few years after this and lived with his wife at riga. those who have seen madame shevitch describe her as one of the most fascinating women they have ever met. she and her husband were very happy in their married life. madame shevitch is now living in munich. our great novelist and poet george meredith has immortalized her in his _tragic comedians_. viii. lord acton's list of the hundred best books every one has heard of lord avebury's (sir john lubbock's) hundred best books, not every one of lord acton's. it is the privilege of the _pall mall magazine_ { } to publish this latter list, the final impression as to reading of one of the most scholarly men that england has known in our time. the list in question is, as it were, an omitted chapter of a book that was one of the successes of its year--_the letters of lord acton to miss mary gladstone_--published by mr. george allen. that series of letters made very pleasant reading. they showed lord acton not as a dryasdust, but as a very human personage indeed, with sympathies invariably in the right place. nor can his literary interests be said to have been restricted, for he read history and biography with avidity, and probably knew more of theology than any other layman of modern times. in imaginative literature, however, his critical instinct was perhaps less keen. he called heine "a bad second to schiller in poetry," which is absurd; and he thought george eliot the greatest of modern novelists. in arriving at the latter judgment he had the excuse of personal friendship and admiration for a woman whose splendid intellectual gifts were undeniable. in one letter we find lord acton discussing with miss gladstone the eternal question of the hundred best books. sir john lubbock had complained to her of the lack of a guide or supreme authority on the choice of books. lord acton had replied that, "although he had something to learn on the graver side of human knowledge," sir john would execute his own scheme better than almost anybody. we all know that sir john lubbock attempted this at a lecture delivered at the great ormond street working men's college; that that lecture has been reprinted again and again in a book entitled _the pleasures of life_, and that the publishers have sold more than two hundred thousand copies--a kind of success that might almost make some of our popular novelists turn green with envy. later on in the correspondence lord acton quoted one of the popes, who said that "fifty books would include every good idea in the world." "but," continued lord acton, "literature has doubled since then, and it would be hard to do without a hundred." lord acton was possessed of the happy thought that he would like some of his friends and acquaintances each to name his ideal hundred best books--as for example bishop lightfoot, dean church, dean stanley, canon liddon, professor max muller, mr. j. r. lowell, professor e. a. freeman, mr. w. e. h. lecky, mr. john morley, sir henry maine, the duke of argyll, lord tennyson, cardinal newman, mr. gladstone, matthew arnold, professor goldwin smith, mr. r. h. hutton, mr. mark pattison, and mr. j. a. symonds. strange to say, he thought there would be a surprising agreement between these writers as to which were the hundred best books. i am all but certain, however, that there would not have been more than twenty books in common between rival schools of thought--the secular and the ecclesiastical--between, let us say, mr. john morley and cardinal newman. but it is probable that not one of these eminent men would have furnished a list with any similarity whatever to the remainder. each would have written down his own hundred favourites, and herein may be admitted is an evidence of the futility of all such attempts. the best books are the books that have helped us most to see life in all its complex bearings, and each individual needs a particular kind of mental food quite unlike the diet that best stimulates his neighbour. writing more than a year later, lord acton said that he had just drawn out a list of recommended authors for his son, as being the company he would like him to keep; but this list is not available--it is not the one before me. that was compiled yet another twelve months afterwards, when we find lord acton sending to miss mary gladstone (mrs. drew) his own ideal "hundred best books." this list is now printed for the first time. evidently miss gladstone remonstrated with her friend over the character of the list; but lord acton defended it as being in his judgment really the hundred _best books_, apart from works on physical science--that it treated of principles that every thoughtful man ought to understand, and was calculated, in fact, to give one a clear view of the various forces that make history. "we are not considering," he adds, "what will suit an untutored savage or an illiterate peasant woman, who would never come to an end of the _imitation_." however, here is lord acton's list, which mrs. drew has been kind enough to place in the hands of the editor of the _pall mall magazine_. i give also lord acton's comment with which it opens, and i add in footnotes one or two facts about each of the authors: * * * * * "in answer to the question: which are the hundred best books in the world? "supposing any english youth, whose education is finished, who knows common things, and is not training for a profession. "to perfect his mind and open windows in every direction, to raise him to the level of his age so that he may know the ( or ) forces that have made our world what it is and still reign over it, to guard him against surprises and against the constant sources of error within, to supply him both with the strongest stimulants and the surest guides, to give force and fullness and clearness and sincerity and independence and elevation and generosity and serenity to his mind, that he may know the method and law of the process by which error is conquered and truth is won, discerning knowledge from probability and prejudice from belief, that he may learn to master what he rejects as fully as what he adopts, that he may understand the origin as well as the strength and vitality of systems and the better motive of men who are wrong, to steel him against the charm of literary beauty and talent; so that each book, thoroughly taken in, shall be the beginning of a new life, and shall make a new man of him--this list is submitted":-- . plato--_laws_--steinhart's _introduction_. { a} . aristotle--_politics_--susemihl's _commentary_. { b} . epictetus--_encheiridion_--_commentary_ of simplicius. { c} . st. augustine--_letters_. { d} . st. vincent's _commonitorium_. { a} . hugo of s. victor--_de sacramentis_. { b} . st. bonaventura--_breviloquium_. { c} . st. thomas aquinas--_summa contra gentiles_. { d} . dante--_divina commedia_. { a} . raymund of sabunde--_theologia naturalis_. { b} . nicholas of cusa--_concordantia catholica_. { c} . edward reuss--_the bible_. { d} . pascal's pensees--_havet's edition_. { a} . malebranche, _de la recherche de la verite_. { b} . baader--_speculative dogmatik_. { c} . molitor--_philosophie der geschichte_. { d} . astie--_esprit de vinet_. { e} . punjer--_geschichte der religions-philosophie_. { a} . rothe--_theologische ethik_. { b} . martensen--_die christliche ethik_. { c} . oettingen--_moralstatistik_. { d} . hartmann--_phanomenologie des sittlichen bewusstseins_. { e} . leibniz--_letters_ edited by klopp. { a} . brandis--_geschichte der philosophie_. { b} . fischer--_franz bacon_. { c} . zeller--_neuere deutsche philosophie_. { d} . bartholomess--_doctrines religieuses de la philosophie moderns_. { a} . guyon--_morale anglaise_. { b} . ritschl--_entstehung der altkatholischen kirche_. { c} . loening--_geschichte des kirchenrechts_. { d} . baur--_vorlesungen uber dogmengeschichte_. { a} . fenelon--_correspondence_. { b} . newman's _theory of development_. { c} . mozley's _university sermons_. { d} . schneckenburger--_vergleichende darstellung_. { a} . hundeshagen--_kirckenvorfassungsgeschichte_. { b} . schweizer--_protestantische centraldogmen_. { c} . gass--_geschichte der lutherischen dogmatik_. { d} . cart--_histoire du mouvement religieux dans le canton de vaud_. { e} . blondel--_de la primaute_. { a} . le blanc de beaulieu--_theses_. { b} . thiersch.--_vorlesungen uber katholizismus_. { c} . mohler--_neue untersuchungen_. { d} . scherer--_melanges de critique religieuse_. { a} . hooker--_ecclesiastical polity_. { b} . weingarten--_revolutionskirchen englands_. { c} . kliefoth--_acht bucher von der kirche_. { d} . laurent--_etudes de l'histoire de l'humanite_. { e} . ferrari--_revolutions de l'ltalie_. { a} . lange--_geschichte des materialismus_. { b} . guicciardini--_ricordi politici_. { c} . duperron--_ambassades_. { d} . richelieu--_testament politique_. { a} . harrington's writings. { b} . mignet--_negotiations de la succession d'espagne_. { c} . rousseau--_considerations sur la pologne_. { a} . foncin--_ministere de turgot_. { b} . burke's _correspondence_. { c} . las cases--_memorial de ste. helene_. { d} . holtzendorff--_systematische rechtsenzyklopadie_. { a} . jhering--_geist des romischen rechts_. { b} . geib--_strafrecht_. { c} . maine--_ancient law_. { a} . gierke--_genossenschaftsrecht_. { b} . stahl--_philosophie des rechts_. { c} . gentz--_briefwechsel mit adam muller_. { a} . vollgraff--_polignosie_. { b} . frantz--_kritik aller parteien_. { c} . de maistre--_considerations sur la france_. { d} . donoso cortes--_ecrits politiques_. { a} . perin--_de la richesse dans les societes chretiennes_. { b} . le play--_la reforme sociale_. { c} . riehl--_die burgerliche sociale_. { d} . sismondi--_etudes sur les constitutions des peuples libres_. { a} . rossi--_cours du droit constitutionnel_. { b} . barante--_vie de royer collard_. { c} . duvergier de hauranne--_histoire du gouvernement parlementaire_. { a} . madison--_debates of the congress of confederation_. { b} . hamilton--_the federalist_. { c} . calhoun--_essay on government_. { d} . dumont--_sophismes anarchiques_. { a} . quinet--_la revolution francaise_. { b} . stein--_sozialismus in frankreich_. { c} . lassalle--_system der erworbenen rechte_. { a} . thonissen--_le socialisme depuis l'antiquite_. { b} . considerant--_destines sociale_. { c} . roscher--_nationalokonomik_. { d} . mill--_system of logic_. { e} . coleridge--_aids to reflection_. { a} . radowitz--_fragmente_. { b} . gioberti--_pensieri_. { c} . humboldt--_kosmos_. { a} . de candolle--_histoire des sciences et des savants_. { b} . darwin--_origin of species_. { c} . littre--_fragments de philosophie_. { d} . cournot--_enchainements des idees fondamentales_. { e} . _monatschriften der wissenschaftlichen vereine_. { } this list, written in in miss gladstone's (mrs. drew's) diary, must always have an interest in the history of the human mind. but my readers will, i imagine, for the most part, agree with me that there are others besides untutored savages and illiterate peasant women to whom such a list is entirely impracticable. it indicates the enormous preference which on the whole lord acton gave to the literature of knowledge over the literature of power, to use de quincey's famous distinction. with the exception of dante's _divine comedy_ there is practically not a single book that has any title whatever to a place in the literature of power, a literature which many of us think the only thing in the world of books worth consideration. great philosophy is here, and high thought. who would for a moment wish to disparage st. bonaventure, the seraphic doctor, or aquinas the angelic? plato and pascal, malebranche and fenelon, bossuet and machiavelli are all among the world's immortals. yet now and again we are bewildered by finding the least important book of a well-known author--as for example rousseau's _poland_ instead of the _confessions_ and coleridge's _aids to reflection_ instead of the _poems_ or the _biographia literaria_. think of an historian whose ideal of historical work was so high that he despised all who worked only from printed documents, selecting the _memorial of st. helena_ of las casas in preference not only to a hundred- and-one similar compilations concerning napoleon's exile, but in preference to thucydides, herodotus and gibbon. sometimes lord acton names a theologian who is absolutely out-of-date, at others a philosopher who is in the same case. but on the whole it is a fascinating list as an index to what a well-trained mind thought the noblest mental equipment for life's work. at the best, it is true, it would represent but one half of life. but then lord acton recognized this when he asked that men should be "steeled against the charm of literary beauty and talent," and he was assuming in any case that all the books in aesthetic literature, the best poetry and the best history had already been read, as he undoubtedly had read them. "the charm of literary beauty and talent!" there is the whole question. nothing really matters for the average man, so far as books are concerned, but this charm, and i am criticizing lord acton's list for the average man. the student who has got beyond it need not worry himself about classified lists. he may read his plato, and aristotle, his pascal and newman, his christian apologists and german theologians, as he wills; or he may read in some other quite different direction. guidance is impossible to a mind at such a stage of cultivation as lord acton had in view. only minds at a more primitive stage of culture than this most learned and most accomplished man seemed able to conceive of, could be bettered by advice as to reading. given, indeed, contact with some superior mind, which out of its rich equipment of culture should advise as to the books that might be most profitably read, i could imagine advice being helpful. it would be of no value, it is true, to an untutored savage or illiterate peasant, but to a youth fresh from school-books and much modern fiction, to a young girl about to enter upon life in its more serious aspects, it would be immensely serviceable. it was of such as these that mr. ruskin thought when he wrote of "king's treasures" in _sesame and lilies_, and the same idea was doubtless in sir john lubbock's mind when he lectured on the "hundred best books." but lord avebury's list had its limitations, it seems to me, for any one who has an interest in good literature and guidance to the reading thereof. to give "scott" as one book and "shakspere" as another was i suggest to shirk much responsibility of selection. scott is a whole library, shakspere is yet another. one may give "keats" or "shelley" because they are more limited in quantity. even to name novels by charles kingsley and bulwer lytton in this select hundred was to demonstrate to men of this generation that lord avebury being of an earlier one had a bias in favour of the books that we are all outgrowing. to include mill's _logic_ is to ignore the time spirit acting on philosophy; to include tennyson's _idylls_ its action on poetry. mill and tennyson will always live in literature but not i think by these books. but the fact is that there is no possibility of naming the hundred best books. no one could quarrel with lord avebury if he had named these as his hundred own favourites among the books of the world. still, it might have been _his_ hundred; it could not possibly have been any one else's hundred because every man of education must make his own choice. no! the naming of the hundred best books for any large, general audience is quite impossible. all that is possible in such a connexion is to state emphatically that there are very few books that are equally suitable to every kind of intellect. temperament as well as intellectual endowment make for so much in reading. take, for example, the _imitation_ of _christ_. george eliot, although not a christian, found it soul-satisfying. thackeray, as i think a more robust intellect, found it well nigh as mischievous as did eugene sue, whose anathematizations in his novel _the wandering jew_ are remembered by all. other books that have been the outcome of piety of mind leave less room for difference of opinion. surely dante's _divine comedy_, and bunyan's _pilgrim's progress_, make an universal appeal. that universal appeal is the point at which alone guidance is possible. there are great books that can be read only by the few, but surely the very greatest appeal alike to the educated and the illiterate, to the man of rich intellectual endowment and to the man to whom all processes of reasoning are incomprehensible. _hamlet_ is a wonderful test of this quality. it "holds the boards" at the small provincial theatre, it is enacted by mr. crummles to an illiterate peasantry, and it is performed by the greatest actor to the most select city audience. it is made the subject of study by learned commentators. it is world-embracing. are there in the english language, including translations, a hundred books that stand the test as _hamlet_ stands it? no two men would make the same list of books that answer to this demand of an universal appeal, and obviously each nation must make its own list. mine is for english boys and girls just growing into manhood and womanhood, or for those who have had no educational advantages in early years. i exclude living writers, and i give the hundred in four groups. poetry. . the bible. { a} . _the odyssey_, translated by butcher and lang. { b} . the _iliad_, translated by lang, leaf and myers. { b} . aeschylus, translated by george warr. { a} . sophocles, translated by j. s. phillimore. { a} . euripides, translated by gilbert murray. { a} . virgil, translated by dryden. { b} . catullus, translated by theodore martin. { c} . horace, translated by theodore martin. { d} . dante, translated by cary. { a} . shakspere, _hamlet_. { b} . chaucer, _canterbury tales_. { c} . fitzgerald, _omar khayyam_. { a} . goethe, _faust_. { b} . shelley. { c} . byron. { d} . wordsworth. { a} . keats. { b} . burns. { c} . coleridge. { d} . cowper. { e} . crabbe. { a} . tennyson. { b} . browning. { c} . milton. { d} fiction. . _the arabian nights entertainment_. { a} . _don quixote_, by cervantes. { b} . _pilgrim's progress_, by bunyan. { c} . _robinson crusoe_, by defoe. { d} . _gulliver's travels_, by swift. { a} . _clarissa_, by richardson. { b} . _tom jones_, by fielding. { c} . _rasselas_, by johnson. { d} . _vicar of wakefield_, by goldsmith. { a} . _sentimental journey_, by sterne. { b} . _nightmare abbey_, by peacock. { c} . _kenilworth_, by walter scott. { d} . _pere goriot_, by balzac. { e} . _the three musketeers_, by dumas. { a} . _vanity fair_, by thackeray. { b} . _villette_, by charlotte bronte. { c} . _david copperfield_, by charles dickens. { d} . _barchester towers_, by anthony trollope. { e} . boccaccio's _decameron_. { f} . _wuthering heights_, by emily bronte. { a} . _the cloister and the hearth_, by charles reade. { b} . _les miserables_, by victor hugo. { c} . _cranford_, by mrs. gaskell. { d} . _consuelo_, by george sand. { e} . _charles o'malley_, by charles lever. { f} miscellaneous. history, essays, etc. . macaulay, _history of england_. { a} . carlyle, _past and present_. { b} . motley, _dutch republic_. { c} . gibbon, _decline and fall of the roman empire_. { d} . plutarch's _lives_. { a} . montaigne's _essays_. { b} . richard steele, _essays_. { c} . lamb, _essays of elia_. { d} . de quincey, _opium eater_. { e} . hazlitt, _essays_. { a} . borrow, _lavengro_. { b} . emerson, _representative men_. { c} . landor, _imaginary conversations_. { d} . arnold, _essays in criticism_. { e} . herodotus, _macaulay's translation_. { f} . howell's _familiar letters_. { a} . buckle's _history of civilization_. { b} . tacitus, church and brodribb's translation. { c} . mitford's _our village_. { d} . green's _short history of the english people_. { e} . taine, _ancient regime_. { a} . bourrienne, _napoleon_. { b} . tocqueville, _democracy in america_. { c} . walton, _compleat angler_. { d} white, _natural history of selbourne_. { a} biographical and autobiographical. . boswell's johnson. { b} . lockhart's scott. { c} . pepys's diary. { d} . walpole's letters. { a} . the memoirs of count de gramont. { b} . gray's letters. { c} . southey's nelson. { d} . moore's byron. { e} . hogg's shelley. { a} . rousseau's confessions. { b} . froude's carlyle. { c} . rogers's table talk. { a} . confessions of st. augustine. { b} . amiel's journal. { c} . meditations of marcus aurelius. { d} . lewes's life of goethe. { e} . sime's life of lessing. { a} . franklin's autobiography. { b} . greville's memoirs. { c} . forster's life of dickens. { d} . madame d'arblay's diary. { e} . newman's apologia. { a} . the paston letters. { b} . cellini's autobiography. { c} . browne's religio medici. { d} my readers for the most part have read every one of these books. i throw out this list as a tentative effort in the direction of suggesting a hundred books with which to start a library. the young student will find much to amuse, and certainly nothing here to bore him. these books will not make him a prig, as mr. james payn said that lord avebury's list would make him a prig. they will make the dull man less dull, the bright man brighter. here is good, cheerful, robust reading for boy and girl, for man and woman. there are many sins of omission, but none of commission. our young friend will add to this list fast enough, but there is nothing in it that he may not read with profit. these books, i repeat, make an universal appeal. the learned man may enjoy them, the unlearned may enjoy them also. they are, as _hamlet_ is, of universal interest. devotion to science will not impair a taste for them, nor will zest for abstract speculations. not even those who are "better skilled in grammar than in poetry" can fail to appreciate. these hundred books will in the main be the hundred best books of many of my readers who are quite capable of selecting for themselves. one last word of advice. let not the young reader buy large quantities of books at once or be beguiled into subscribing for some cheap series which will save him the trouble of selecting. he may buy many books from such cheap series afterwards, but not his first hundred, i think. these should be acquired through much saving, and purchased with great thought and deliberation. the purchase of a book should become to the young book-lover a most solemn function. _butler and tanner_, _the selwood printing works_, _frome_, _and london_ footnotes: { } richard garnett ( - ) was son of the philologist of the same name who was for a time priest-vicar of lichfield cathedral. he attended the johnson celebration on sept. , , and proposed "the immortal memory of dr. johnson." he died on the following good friday, april , and was buried in highgate cemetery april , . { } anna seward ( - ). her works were published after her death:--_the poetical works of anna seward_. _with extracts from her literary correspondence_. edited by walter scott, esq. in three volumes--_john ballantyne & co._, . _letters of anna seward written between the years_ _and_ . in six volumes. archibald constable & co., . "longwinded and florid" one biographer calls her letters, but by the aid of what scott calls 'the laudable practice of skipping' they are quite entertaining. { } sir robert thomas white-thomson, k.c.b., wrote to me in reference to this estimate of miss seward from broomford manor, exbourne, north devon, and his letter seemed of sufficient importance from a genealogical standpoint for me to ask his permission to make an extract from the letter: "i have read your address in a lichfield newspaper. apart from the wider and more important bearings of your words, those which had reference to the seward family were especially welcome to me. you will understand this when i tell you that, with the exception of the romney portrait of anna, and a few other objects left 'away' by her will, my grandfather, thomas white, of lichfield close, her cousin and residuary legatee, became possessed of all the contents of her house. some of the books and engravings were sold by auction, but the remainder were taken good care of, and passed to me on my mother's death in . as thus, 'in a way' the representative of the 'swan of lichfield,' you can easily see what such an appreciation of her as was yours means to me. of course i know her weak points, and how the pot of clay must suffer in trying to 'bump' the pot of iron in midstream, but i also know that she was no ordinary personage in her day, when the standard of feminine culture was low, and i have resented some things that have been written of her. mrs. oliphant treats her kindly in her _literary history of england_, and now i have your 'appreciation' of her, for which i beg to thank you." { } once certainly in the lines "on the death of mr. robert levet":-- well try'd through many a varying year, see levet to the grave descend, officious, innocent, sincere, of ev'ry friendless name the friend. { } _prayers and meditations_: composed by samuel johnson, ll.d., and published from his manuscripts by george straham, d.d., prebendary of rochester and vicar of islington in middlesex, . dr. birkbeck hill suggests that johnson could not have contemplated the publication of the work in its entirety, but the world is the better for the self revelation, notwithstanding cowper's remark in a letter to newton (august , ), that "the publisher of it is neither much a friend to the cause of religion nor to the author's memory; for by the specimen of it that has reached us, it seems to contain only such stuff as has a direct tendency to expose both to ridicule." { } there is an edition with a brief introduction by augustine birrell, published by elliot stock in , and another, with an introduction by "h. c.," was issued by h. r. allenson in . { } the rev. angus mackay, author of _the brontes in fact and fiction_. he was rector of holy trinity church, dean bridge, edinburgh, when he died, aged , on new year's day, . earlier in life he had been a curate at olney. { } john newton ( - ) had been the captain of a slave ship before his 'conversion.' he became curate of olney in and published the famous olney hymns with cowper in . in newton became the popular incumbent of st. mary woolnoth, london. { } see the globe _cowper_, with an introduction by the rev. william benham, the rector of st. edmund's, lombard street. canon benham has written many books, but he has done no better piece of work than this fine introduction which first appeared in . { } thomas scott ( - ). his commentaries first appeared in weekly parts between and , and were first issued in ten volumes, - . he was rector of astin sandford in buckinghamshire from until his death. his _life_ was published by his son, the rev. john scott, in . { } thomas percy ( - ) became vicar of easton maudit, northamptonshire, in . johnson visited him here in . in percy published his _reliques of ancient english poetry_. he became bishop of dromere in . { a} william hayley ( - ) was counted a great poet in his day and placed in the same rank with dryden and pope. he wrote _triumphs of temper_ , _triumphs of music_ , and many other works; but he is of interest here by virtue of his _life and letters of william cowper_, _esq._, _with remarks on epistolary writers_, published in . { b} robert southey ( - ), whose _life and works of cowper_ is in fifteen volumes, which were published by baldwin & cradock between the years and . the attractive form in which the works are presented, the many fine steel engravings, and the excellent type make this still the only way for book lovers to approach cowper. southey had to suffer the competition of the rev. t. s. grimshawe, who produced, through saunders & otley, about the same time a reprint of hayley's biography with much of cowper's correspondence that is not in southey's volumes. the whole correspondence was collected by mr. thomas wright, and published by hodder & stoughton in . { c} walter bagehot ( - ) in his _literary studies_. james russell lowell ( - ) in his _essays_. mrs. oliphant ( - ) in her _literary history of england_; and george eliot ( - ) in her _essays_ (worldliness and other worldliness). { } it has no bearing upon the subject that the horrors of the bastille at the time of its fall were greatly exaggerated. { } _theology in the english poets_, by stopford a. brooke. { } mr. leslie stephen, who became sir leslie stephen, k.c.b., in , was born in and died in . in addition to the article in the _d.n.b._, this great critic has one on "cowper and rousseau" in his _hours in a library_. { } sir john fenn ( - ), the antiquary, obtained the originals of the _paston letters_ from thomas worth, a chemist of diss. the following lines were first printed in cowper's collected poems, by mr. j. c. bailey in his admirable edition of , published by the methuens:-- two omens seem propitious to my fame, your spouse embalms my verse, and you my name; a name, which, all self-flattery far apart belongs to one who venerates in his heart the wise and good, and therefore of the few known by these titles, sir, both yours and you. they were written to please his cousin john johnson who was to oblige fenn by giving him an autograph of cowper's. { } edward stanley ( - ), the father of arthur penrhyn stanley ( - ), dean of westminster, was bishop of norwich from to . { } borrow's step-daughter, henrietta clarke, married james mcoubrey, an irish doctor. she outlived borrow for many years, dying at great yarmouth in . all her literary effects, including many interesting manuscripts, have been passed on to me by her executor, mr. hubert smith, and these will be used in my forthcoming biography of borrow. { } i ventured to ask my friend mr. birrell for a line to read to my norwich audience and he sent me the following characteristic letter dated december , :-- ". . . for my part i should leave george borrow alone, to take his own part even as isopel berners learnt to take hers in the great house at long melford. he has an appealing voice which no sooner falls on the ear of the born borrovian, than up the lucky fellow must get and follow his master to the end of the chapter. "however, if you will insist upon going out into the highways and hedges and compelling the wayfaring man--though a fool--to come in and take a seat at the _lavengro_ feast, nobody can stop you. "the great thing is to get people to read the borrow books: there is nothing else to be done. if, after having read them, some enthusiasts go on to learn _romany_ and seek to trace authorities on gypsies and gypsy lore--why, let them. they may soon know more about gypsies than borrow ever did--but they will never write about them as he did. "the essence of the matter is to enjoy borrow's books for themselves alone. as for borrow's biography, it appears to me either that he has already written it, or it is not worth writing. anyhow, place the books in the forefront, reprint things as often as you dare without _note or comment_ or even _prefatory appreciation_, and you cannot but earn the gratitude of every true borrovian who in consequence of your efforts come upon the borrow books for the first time." { } m. rene huchon, who addressed the visitors at the crabbe celebration, published his _george crabbe and his times_: _a critical and biographical study_, through mr. john murray, early in the present year, . { } this reproach has since been removed by the appearance of the _complete works of george crabbe_ in three volumes of the cambridge english classics series, published by the cambridge university press, and edited by dr. a. w. ward, the master of peterhouse. { } the original letter is in the possession of mr. a. m. broadley, of bridport. it is reprinted from the hanmer correspondence in an appendix to m. huchon's biography. { } but m. huchon makes it clear in _george crabbe and his times_ that crabbe declined at the last moment to marry miss charlotte ridout, who seems to have been really in love with him. { } this monument, a fine statue facing the house which replaces the one in which sir thomas browne lived, was unveiled in october, . { } for every student cunningham's nine volumes have been superseded since this address was delivered by the sixteen volumes of the letters of horace walpole, edited by mrs. paget toynbee for the clarendon press. { } the other side of the picture may, however, be presented. horace, says cunningham (walpole's _letters_, vol. i.), hated norfolk, the native country of his father, and delighted in kent, the native country of his mother. "he did not care for norfolk ale, norfolk turnips, norfolk dumplings and norfolk turkeys. its flat, sandy aguish scenery was not to his taste." he dearly liked what he calls most happily, "the rich, blue prospects of kent." { } goldsmith doubtless had more than one experience in his mind when he wrote of:-- sweet auburn! loveliest village of the plain. lissoy, near ballymahon, ireland, served to provide many concrete features of the picture, but that the author drew upon his experiences of houghton is believed by his principal biographer, john forster, by professor masson and others, and on no other assumption than that of an english village can the lines be explained:-- a time there was, ere england's griefs began, when every rood of ground maintained its man. { } originally written to serve as an introduction to an edition of mr. george meredith's _tragic comedians_, of which book lassalle is the hero. that edition was published by messrs. ward lock & bowden, who afterwards transferred all rights in it to messrs. archibald constable & co., by whose courtesy the paper is included here. { } lassalle's _tagebuch_, edited by paul lindau, . { } _henrich heine's sammtliche werke_, vol. xxii., pp. - . { } the most concise account of the affair is contained in the story of sophie solutzeff, entitled, _eine liebes-episode aus dem leben ferdinand lassalle's_. this booklet, which is published in german, french, and russian, professes to be an account of lassalle's love for a young russian lady, sophie solutzeff, some two years before he met helene von donniges. he is represented as being himself in a frenzy of passion; the lady, however, rejecting as a lover the man she had been prepared to worship as a teacher. there can be little doubt that the whole story is a fabrication, in which the countess von hatzfeldt had a considerable part. the countess was rightly judged by popular opinion to have played a discreditable role in the love passages between lassalle and helene; and helene's own account of the matter in her _reminiscences_ was an additional blow at the pseudo-friend who might have helped the lovers so much. what more natural than that the countess should be anxious to break the force of helene's indictment, by endorsing the popular, and indeed accurate judgment, that lassalle was very inflammable where women were concerned. this she could do by depicting him, a little earlier, in precisely similar bondage to that which he had professed to helene. that the countess wrote, or assisted to write, the compilation of letters and diaries, does not, however, destroy its value as a record of lassalle's struggle on her behalf. that account, if not written by lassalle, was written or inspired by the other great actor in the hatzfeldt drama, and may therefore be considered a fairly safe guide in recounting the story. mr. israel zangwill, since the above was written, has published an article on lassalle in his _dreamers of the ghetto_. he accepts sophie solutzeff's story as genuine, but that is merely the credulity of an accomplished romancer. { } debate in the german reichstag, april , . quoted by w. h. dawson. { } becker's _enthullungen_, . { } briefe an hans von bulow, . { } reprinted with alterations from the _pall mall magazine_ of july, , by kind permission of the proprietor and editor; and of miss mary gladstone (mrs. drew) to whom the list of books was sent in a letter. { a} plato (b.c. - ). dr. jowett has translated the _laws_. see _the dialogues_ of plato with analysis and introductions by benjamin jowett. in five volumes. vol. v. the clarendon press. { b} aristotle (b.c. - ). dr. jowett has translated the _politics_ into english. two volumes. the clarendon press. { c} epictetus (born a.d. , died in rome, but date unknown). his _encheiridion_, a collection of maxims, was made by his pupil arrian. the best translation into english is that by george long, first published in . (george bell.) { d} st. augustine (a.d. - ). see a translation of his _letters_ edited by mary allies, published in . { a} st. vincent of lerins--vincentius lirinensis. native of gaul. monk in monastery of lerinat, opposite cannes. died about . in wrote _commonitorium adversus profanus omnium heretiecrum novitates_. it contains the famous threefold text of orthodoxy--"quod ubique, quod semper, quod ad omnibus creditum est." printed at paris, and later. also in mignes, patrologia latina, vol. . hallam calls the text "the celebrated rule." it is all now remembered of st. v. by most educated men. it is shown to be of no practical value in an able criticism by sir g. c. lewis, _influence of authority in matters of opinion_, nd ed., , p. . mr gladstone reviewed this work of lewis, _nineteenth century_ march, . { b} hugo of st. victor ( - ), a celebrated mystic born at ypres in flanders. his collected works first appeared at rouen in . { c} st. bonaventura (a.d. - ). born at bagnarea, near orvieto, in tuscany, became a franciscan monk and afterwards a professor of theology at paris, where he gained the title of the "seraphic doctor." made a cardinal by pope gregory x, who sent him as his legate to the council at lyons, where he died. in he was canonized. his writings appeared at rome in - . { d} st. thomas aquinas (a.d. - ). the angelic doctor was born at the castle of rocca-secca near aquino, between rome and naples. entered the dominican order in . went to paris in and attained great distinction as a theologian. his _summa theologiae_ was followed by his _summa contra gentiles_. his works were first collected in volumes in . aquinas was canonized in . { a} dante (a.d. - ). the _divina commedia_ has been translated into english by many scholars. the best known version is the poetical renderings of h. f. cary ( - ) and w. w. longfellow ( - ) and the prose translations (the "inferno" only) of john carlyle ( - ) and a. j. butler in whose three volumes of the "purgatory," "paradise" and "inferno" the original italian may be studied side by side with the translation. { b} raymund of sabunde, a physician of toulouse of the fifteenth century. he published his _theologia naturalis_ at strassburg in . "i found the concerts of the author to be excellent, the contexture of his works well followed, and his project full of pietie" writes montaigne in telling us of his father's request that he should translate sabunde's _theologia naturalis_. florio's translation. book ii, ch. xii. { c} nicholas of cusa (a.d. - ) was born at kues on the moselle. his _de concordantia catholica_ was a treatise in favour of the councils of the church and against the authority of the pope. he was made a cardinal by pope nicholas v. { d} edward reuss ( - ), a professor of theology, who was born at strassburg. published his _history of the new testament_ in and his _history of the old testament_ in . _the bible_, _a new translation with introduction and commentaries_, appeared in volumes between and . { a} pascal, blaise ( - ). born at clermont-ferrand in auvergne. his _letters to a provincial_, written in - , made his fame by their attack on the jesuists. his _pensees_ appeared after his death, in , and they have reappeared in many forms, "edited" by many schools of thought. the edition edited by ernest havet ( - ) was published in . { b} malebranche, nicolas ( - ). born in paris. the works of descartes drew him to philosophy. the famous dictum, "malebranche saw all things in god," had reference to his treatise, _de la recherche de la verite_, first published in . { c} baader, franz ( - ). a speculative philosopher and theologian, born at munich, who endeavoured to reconcile the tenets of the church of rome with philosophy. of his many works his _vorlesungen uber spekulative dogmatik_ is here selected. it appeared between and in five parts. { d} molitor, franz joseph ( - ). a philosophical writer, born near frankfurt. his _philosophie der geschichte_, _oder uber tradition_ was published in volumes between and . { e} astie, jean frederic ( - ). a french protestant theologian, who held a chair of theology in new york from to . in became a professor in switzerland. he published his _esprit d'alexandre vinet_ at paris in . in appeared his _le vinet de la legende et celui de l'histoire_. { a} punjer, bernard ( - ). a theologian whose _geschichte der religions-philosophie_ was much the vogue with theological students at the time of its publication in . it was reissued in in an english translation by w. hastie, under the title, _history of the christian philosophy of religion from the reformation to kant_. punjer also wrote _die religionslehre kant's_, published at jena in . { b} rothe, richard ( - ). a protestant theologian. was for a time preacher to the prussian embassy in rome, and afterwards in succession professor of theology at wittenberg, at heidelberg, and at bonn. his _theologische ethik_ appeared at wittenberg in volumes between and . { c} martensen, hans lassen ( - ). a danish theologian, born at fleusburg and died at copenhagen, where he was long a professor of theology. he became bishop of zeeland. _die christliche ethik_ was one of many works by him. he also wrote _die christliche dogmatik_, _die christliche taufe_, and a _life of jakob bohme_. { d} oettingen, alexander von ( - ). a theologian and statistician principally associated with dorpat in livonia, where he studied from to . he became professor of theology at its famous university. his principal book is entitled, _die moralstatistik in ihrer bedeutung fur eine sozialethik_. { e} hartmann, karl robert eduard von ( - ). born in berlin, the son of general robert von hartmann, and served for some time in the artillery of the german army. he has written many philosophical works. his _phanomenologie des sittlichlen bewusstseins_ was published in berlin in . { a} leibniz, gottfried wilhelm ( - ). born at leipzig and died at hanover. visited paris and london, and became acquainted with boyle and newton. in appointed to a librarianship at hanover. his philosophical views are mainly derived from his letters. the edition of the _letters_, edited by ouno klopp ( - ), appeared at hanover between and in volumes. { b} brandis, christian august ( - ). a philosopher and philologist, born in hildesheim, studied in gottingen and kiel. accompanied niebuhr as secretary to the embassy to rome in . in became professor of philosophy in bonn. his _handbuch der geschichte der griechischromischen philosophie_, doubtless here referred to by lord acton, was published in berlin at long intervals ( - ) in volumes. { c} fischer, kuno ( - ). born at sandewalde in silesia. deprived of his professorship of philosophy at heidelberg by the baden government in on account of charge of pantheism, but recalled to heidelberg in . his principal book is _geschichte der neuern philosophie_ ( - ). his _franz baco von verulam_ appeared in , and _francis bacon und seine schule_ made the th volume of his _geschichte_. { d} zeller, eduard ( - still living). theologian and historian of philosophy. studied at tubingen and berlin, became professor of theology at berne, afterwards held chairs successively at heidelberg and berlin. his many works include _the philosophy of ancient greece_, _platonic studies_ and _zwingli's theological system_. { a} bartholomess, christian ( - ). a french philosopher, born at geiselbronn in alsace. from professor of philosophy at strassburg. died at nuremberg. wrote a _life of giordano bruno_, and _philosophical history of the prussian academy_, _particularly under frederick the great_, as well as the _histoire critique des doctrines religieuses de la philosophie moderne_, published in volumes in . { b} madame guyon ( - ) was born at montargis in france, and her maiden name was jeanne marie bouvieres de la mothe. she married at years of age jacques guyon. left a widow, she devoted herself to a religious mysticism which raised up endless controversies during the succeeding years. she was compelled to leave geneva because her doctrines were declared to be heretical. she was imprisoned in the bastile from to . her works are contained in volumes. { c} ritschl, albrecht ( - ). professor of theology, born in berlin, died in gottingen. became professor of theology in bonn and later in gottingen. he wrote many books. his _die entstehung der altkatholischen kirche_ first appeared in . { d} loening, edgar ( - still living), was born in paris. has held professorial chairs at strassburg, dorpat, rostock, and at halle. his _geschichte des deutschen kirchenrechts_ first appeared in . { a} baur, ferdinand christian ( - ). born at schmiden, near kannstatt. held various theological chairs before that of tubingen, which he occupied from until his death. he wrote a great number of theological works, of which his _vorlesungen uber die christliche dogmengeschichte_ was published in leipzig in volumes between and . { b} fenelon, francois de salignac de la mothe ( - ). born in perigord in france, and famous alike as a divine and as a man of letters, his _telemaque_ living in literature. his controversy over madame guyon is well known. louis xiv made him preceptor to his grandson, the duke of burgundy, and later archbishop of cambrai. his _correspondence_ was published between and in volumes. { c} newman, john henry ( - ). a famous cardinal of the church of rome; born in london, educated at trinity college, oxford; first vicar of st. mary's, oxford; took part in the tractarian movement with some of the _tracts for the times_. his _apologia pro vita sua_ appeared in , his _dream of gerontius_ in . there is no _theory of development_ by newman. his _essay on the development of christian doctrine_ appeared in , and was replied to by the rev. j. b. mozley in a volume bearing the title _the theory of development_. { d} mozley, james bowling ( - ). a church of england divine; born at gainsborough, educated at oriel college, oxford; became vicar of old shoreham, canon of worcester, and, in , regius professor of divinity at oxford. his _oxford university sermons_ appeared in . { a} schneckenburger, matthias ( - ). a protestant theologian; born at thalheim and died in berne, where he was for a time professor of theology at the newly founded university. his _vergleichende darstellung des lutherischen und reformierten lehrbegriffs_ was published in stuttgart in volumes in . { b} hundeshagen, karl bernhard ( - ). a protestant theologian who held a professorship in berne, later in heidelberg and finally in bonn, where he died. his many works included one upon the conflict between the lutheran, the calvinistic, and the zwinglian churches. his _beitrage zur kirchenverfassungsgeschichte und kirchenpolitik insbesondere des protestantismus_ was published at wiesbaden in in volume. { c} schweizer, alexander ( - ). a theologian and preacher who studied in zurich and berlin. he wrote his _autobiography_ which was published in zurich the year after his death. his book, _die protestantischen centraldogmen innerhalb der reformierten kirche_, appeared in zurich in volumes in and . { d} gass, wilhelm ( - ). a protestant theologian; born at breslau and died in heidelberg, where he held a theological chair. his best-known book is his _geschichte der protestantischen dogmatik_, published in berlin between and in volumes, and to this lord acton doubtless refers. { e} cart, jacques louis ( - probably still living). a swiss pastor; born in geneva; the author of many books, of which the one named by lord acton is fully entitled, _histoire du mouvement religieux et ecclesiastique dans le canton de vaud pendant la premiere moitie du xixe siecle_. it appeared between and in volumes. { a} blondel, david ( - ). born at chalons-sur-marne in france; a learned theologian and historian who defended the protestant position against the catholics. was professor of history at amsterdam. his _de la primaute de l'eglise_ appeared in . { b} le blanc de beaulieu, louis ( - ). a french protestant theologian who enjoyed the consideration of both parties and was approached by turenne with a view to a reunion of the churches. his position was sustained before the protestant academy at sedan with certain theses published under the title of _theses sedanenzes_ in . { c} thiersch, heinrich wilhelm josias ( - ). born in munich and died in basle; held for a time a professorship of theology in marburg, then became the principal pastor of the irvingite church in germany, preaching in many cities. he wrote many books. his _vorlesungen uber katholizismus und protestantismus_ appeared first in . { d} mohler, johann adam ( - ). born in igersheim and died in munich. a catholic theologian and professor of theology at tubingen. his _neue untersuchungen der lehrgegensatze zwischen den katholiken und protestanten_ was first published in mainz in . { a} scherer, edmond ( - ). a french theologian; born in paris, died at versailles. was for a time in england, then professor of exegesis in geneva. was for many years a leader of the french protestant church. his _melanges de critique religieuse_ appeared in paris in . { b} hooker, richard ( - ). born in exeter. in was rector of drayton-beauchamp, near tring, and the following year became master of the temple. in became vicar of boscombe and sub-dean of salisbury. his _laws of ecclesiastical polity_ was published in . in he removed to bishopsbourne, near canterbury, where he died. { c} weingarten, hermann ( - ). protestant ecclesiastical historian, born in berlin, where in he became a professor, later held chairs successively at marberg and breslau. his book _die revolutionskirchen englands_ appeared in . { d} kliefoth, theodor friedrich ( - ). a lutheran theologian; born at kirchow in mecklenburg, and died at schwerin, where he was for a time instructor to the grand duke of mecklenburg-schwerin, and held various offices in connexion with that state. he wrote many theological works. his _acht bucher von der kirche_ was published at schwerin in volume in . { e} laurent, francois ( - ). born in luxemburg and died in gent, where he long held a professorship. his principal work, _etudes sur l'histoire de l'humanite_, _histoire du droit des gens_ was published in brussels in volumes between and . { a} ferrari, guiseppe ( - ) was born in milan, and died in rome. achieved fame as a philosophical historian. held a chair at turin and afterwards at milan. as member of the parliament of piedmont he was an opponent of cavour's policy of a united italy. his principal book is entitled _histoire des revolutions de l'italie_, _ou guelfes et gibelins_, published in paris in four volumes between and . { b} lange, friedrich albert ( - ). philosopher and economic writer, born at wald bei solingen, died at marburg. held a professorial chair at zurich and later at marburg. his most famous book, the _geschichte des materialismus und kritik seiner bedentung in der gegenwart_, first appeared in . it was published in england in - by trubner in three volumes. { c} guicciardini, francesco ( - ), the italian historian and statesman, was born at florence. undertook in an embassy from florence to the court of ferdinand the catholic, and learned diplomacy in spain. in he entered the service of pope leo x. his principal book is his _history of italy_. the _istoria d'italia_ appeared in florence in ten volumes between and . his _recordi politici_ consists of some aphorisms on political and social topics and has been described by an italian critic as "italian corruption codified and elevated to a rule of life." { d} duperron, jacques davy ( - ), a cardinal of the church, born at saint lo. he was a court preacher under henry iii of france and denounced elizabeth of england in a funeral sermon on mary stuart. it is told of him that he once demonstrated before the king the existence of god, and being complimented upon his irrefutable arguments, replied that he was prepared to bring equally good arguments to prove that god did not exist. he became bishop of evreux in . { a} richelieu, cardinal--(armand-jean du plessis)--( - ). the famous minister of louis xiii; born in paris, of a noble family of poitou. was made bishop of lucon by henry iv at the age of twenty-two. became almoner to marie de medici, the regent of france. was elected a cardinal in . he wrote many books, including theological works, tragedies, and his own memoirs. the authenticity of his _testament politique_ was disputed by voltaire. { b} harrington, james ( - ) was born at upton, northamptonshire; was educated at trinity college, cambridge. he travelled on the continent, but was back in england at the time of the civil war, in which, however, he took no part. he published his _oceana_ in . he is buried in st. margaret's church, westminster, next to the tomb of sir walter raleigh. his _writings_ in an edition issued in by millar contained twenty separate treatises in addition to _oceana_, but concerned with that book. { c} mignet, francois auguste marie ( - ). the historian; was born at aix and died in paris. published his _history of the french revolution_ in . his _negociations relatives a la succession d'espagne_ appeared in volumes between and . he also wrote a _life of franklin_, a _history of mary stuart_, and many other works. { a} rousseau, jean jacques ( - ), the famous writer, was born in geneva and died at ermenonville. much of his life story has been told in his incomparable _confessions_. in he published _nouvelle heloise_; in , _l'emile ou de l'education_. his _considerations sur la pologne_ was written by rousseau in in response to an application to apply his own theories to a scheme for the renovation of the government of poland, in which land anarchy was then at its height. mr. john morley (_rousseau_, vol. ii) dismisses the pamphlet with a contemptuous line. { b} foncin, pierre ( - still living). a french professor of history; born at limoges, and has long held important official positions in connexion with education. he has written many books, including an _atlas historique_. his _essai sur le ministere turgot_ appeared in , and obtained a prize from the french academy. { c} burke, edmund ( - ), the famous statesman, was born in dublin and died at beaconsfield, bucks, where he was buried. his _vindication of natural society_ appeared in . burke entered parliament for wendover in , sat for bristol, - , and malton, - . his _collected works_ first appeared in - in volumes, the first three of which were issued in his lifetime; his _collected works and correspondence_ was published in volumes in , but the _correspondence_ had appeared separately in volumes in . { d} las cases, emmanuel augustine dieudonne marir joseph ( - ). educated at the military school in paris but entered the french navy; emigrated at the revolution; fought at quiberon; taught french in london; published in his _atlas historique et geographique_ under the pseudonym of "le sage." on his return to france he came under the notice of napoleon, who made him a count of the empire and sent him upon several important missions. during the emperor's exile in elba he again went to england. he returned during the hundred days and accompanied napoleon to st. helena. here he recorded day by day the conversations of the great exile. at the end of eighteen months he was exiled by sir hudson lowe to the cape of good hope. he returned to france after the death of napoleon and became a deputy under louis philippe. his _memorial de sainte-helene_, published in - , secured a great success. { a} holtzendorff, franz von ( - ), was professor of jurisprudence first at berlin and afterwards at munich, where he died. he wrote many books concerned with crime and its punishment, with the prison systems of the world, etc. his _enzyklopadie der rechtswissenschaft in systematischer und alphabetischer bearbeitung_ was first published at leipzig in and . { b} jhering, rudolph von ( - ), was for a time professor at basle, rostock, kiel and vienna. his _geist des romischen rechts auf den verschiedenen stufen seiner entwickelung_ appeared in leipzig between and , and is counted a classic in jurisprudence. { c} geib, karl gustav ( - ). an eminent criminologist. was a professor of zurich and afterwards of tubingen, where he died. wrote many books, of which the most important was his _geschichte des romischen kriminalprozesses bis zum tode justinians_ in . his _lehrbuch des deutschen strafrechts_ appeared in and , but was never completed. { a} maine, sir henry james sumner ( - ). jurist; born in kelso, scotland; educated at christ's hospital, london, and at pembroke college, cambridge; was regius professor of civil law at cambridge, - . in he became a legal member of council in india and held the office for seven years. in he became a k.c.s.i. and had a seat on the indian council. in he was elected master of trinity hall, cambridge, and in became whewell professor of international law at cambridge. he died at cannes. his principal work is his _ancient law_: _its connexion with the early history of society and its relation to modern ideas_, first published in . { b} gierke, otto friedrich ( - still living), was born in stettin; was professor of law in breslau, heidelberg and berlin successively. served in the franco-german war of . his principal work, _das deutsche genossenschaftsrecht_, appeared in volumes in berlin, the first in , the third in . { c} stahl, friedrich julius ( - ), was born in munich of jewish parents, died in bruckenau. held chairs of law and jurisprudence in berlin and other cities, and wrote many books. his _die philosophie des rechts und geschichtlicher ansicht_ appeared at heidelberg in volumes in and . { a} gentz, friedrich von ( - ). a distinguished publicist and statesman; born in breslau, died at weinhaus, near vienna; studied jurisprudence in konigsberg. one of his earliest literary efforts was a translation of burke's _reflections upon the french revolution_. played a very considerable part in the combination of the powers of europe against napoleon in - . he was the author of many books. his _briefewechsel mit adam muller_ was published in stuttgart in --long after his death. { b} vollgraff, karl friedrich ( - ), was for a time professor of jurisprudence at marburg, where he died. his two most important books were: ( ) _der systeme der praktischen politik im abendlande_; ( ) _erster versuch einer begrundung der allgemeinen ethnologie durch die anthropologie und der staats und rechts philosophie durch die ethnologie oder nationalitat der volker_, published in volumes in to . it is in this last volume that a section is devoted to polignosie. { c} frantz, konstantin ( - ). distinguished publicist; born at halberstadt and died at blasewitz, near dresden, where he made his home for many years. was for a time german consul in spain. his great doctrine laid down in his _die weltpolitik_, , was the union of central europe against the growing power of russia and the united states of america. his _kritik aller parteien_ was published in berlin in . { d} maistre, joseph marie comte de ( - ). a distinguished french publicist; born at chambery; studied at the university of turin. lived for some years at lausanne, where he published in his _considerations sur la revolution francaise_. { a} donoso cortes, jean francois ( - ). a famous spanish publicist; born in estremadura; played a considerable part in spanish affairs under marie-christine and queen isabella. was for a time spanish ambassador to berlin, and later to france, where he died in paris. he wrote much upon such questions as the catholic church and socialism. { b} perin, henri charles xavier ( - ), a belgium economist, born at mons; became an advocate at brussels and also professor of political economy in that city. his book _de la richesse dans les societes chretiennes_ appeared in paris in volumes in . { c} le play, pierre guillaume frederic ( - ). born at honfleur. he directed the organization of the paris international exhibitions of and . he wrote many books. his _la reforme sociale en france deduite de l'observation comparee des peuples europeens_ was published in two volumes in . { d} riehl, wilhelm heinrich ( - ). a well-known author; born at biebrich-am-rhein, died in munich. he was associated with several german newspapers, and edited from to the _nassauische allgemeine zeitung_, from to the _augsburger allgemeine zeitung_, and afterwards became a professor of literature at munich. in he became the director of the bavarian national museum. he wrote many books, the one referred to by lord acton having been published in under the title of _die burgerliche gesellschaft_. { a} sismondi, jean charles leonard sismonde de ( - ), the distinguished historian of the italian republics, was born at geneva of an italian family originally from pisa. he resided for a time in england. his famous book the _histoire des republiques italiennes de moyen-age_ appeared between and in volumes. his _etudes sur les constitutions des peuples libres_, was one of many other books. { b} rossi, pellegrino luigi odoardo ( - ). an italian publicist; born at carrara. keenly sympathized with the french revolution and served under murat in the hundred days, after which he fled to geneva. in later years he became a nationalized frenchman, occupied a chair of constitutional law, and finally became a peer. as comte rossi he went on a special embassy to rome. he was assassinated in that city during the troubles of . his _traite du droit constitutionnel_ appeared in volumes. { c} barante, aimable guillaume prosper brugiere, baron de ( - ), historian and politician, was born at riom. he was made a counciller of state by louis xviii in , and a peer of france in . he was elected a member of the french academy in . under louis philippe he became ambassador first at turin and afterwards at st. petersburg. after the revolution of he devoted himself entirely to literature. he wrote many historical and literary studies, and translated the works of schiller into french. his _vie politique de royer-collard_ has several times been reprinted. { a} duvergier de hauranne, prosper ( - ), was a distinguished french publicist, born at rouen. he was parliamentary deputy for sancerre in and took part in most of the political struggles of the following twenty years. he was exiled from france at the time of the _coup d'etat_, but returned during the reign of napoleon iii. henceforth he devoted himself exclusively to historical studies. his _histoire du gouvernement parlementaire en france_, published in , secured his election to the french academy. { b} madison, james ( - ). the fourth president of the united states; born at port conway, virginia. acted with jay and hamilton in the convention which framed the constitution and wrote with them _the federalist_. he had two terms of office--between and --as president. he died at montpelier, virginia. his _debates of the congress of confederation_ was published in elliot's "debates on the state conventions," vols., philadelphia, . { c} hamilton, alexander ( - ). a great american statesman, who served in washington's army, and after the war became eminent as a lawyer in new york. he wrote fifty-one out of the eighty-five essays of _the federalist_. he was appointed secretary of the treasury to the united states in . he was mortally wounded in a duel by aaron burr in . his influence upon the american constitution gives him a great place in the annals of the republic. { d} calhoun, john campbell ( - ). an american statesman; born in abbeville county, south carolina and studied at yale. as a member of congress he supported the war with great britain in - . he was twice vice-president of the united states. he died at washington. a _disquisition on government_ and a _discourse on the constitution and government of the united states_ were written in the last months of his life. his _collected works_ appeared in - . { a} dumont, pierre etienne louis ( - ). a great publicist; born in geneva, and principally known in england by his association with bentham, to whom he acted as an editor and interpreter. lived much in paris, st. petersburg, and, above all, in london, where he knew fox, sheridan, and other famous men, and taught the children of lord shelburne. dumont's _sophismes anarchiques_ appears in bentham's _collected works_ as _anarchical fallacies_. { b} quinet, edgar ( - ). french historian and philosopher; born at borg and died in paris. his epic poem of _ahasuerus_ was placed upon the index. of his many books his _la revolution francaise_ is the best known. it was written in switzerland, where he was an exile during the reign of napoleon iii. he returned to france in . { c} stein, lorenz von ( - ). writer on economics, studied in kiel and in jena. in he became professor of international law in vienna. he wrote books on statecraft and international law. his work entitled _der sozialismus und kommunismus des heutigen frankreich_ appeared in leipzig in . { a} lassalle, ferdinand ( - ), the famous social democrat, was of jewish birth; born at breslau. he took part in the revolution of and received six months' imprisonment. he was wounded in a duel at geneva over a love affair and died two days later. his _system der erworbenen rechte_ appeared in . { b} thonissen, jean joseph ( - ). a distinguished jurist; born in belgium. he studied at liege and in paris; became a professor of the catholic university of louvain; afterwards became a minister of state. of his many works his _socialisme depuis l'antiquite jusqu'a la constitution francaise de _ is best known. { c} considerant, victor ( - ). born at salins, and, after the revolution of , entered the chamber of deputies. he crossed to america to found a colony in texas, but ruined himself by the experiment. he returned to france in . he was the author of many socialistic treatises. { d} roscher, wilhelm ( - ), economist, was born in hanover. held a chair first in gottingen and afterwards in leipzig, where he died. his _geschichte der nationalokonomik in deutschland_ appeared in munich in . { e} mill, john stuart ( - ), the famous publicist and author, was born in london, and educated by his father, james mill ( - ). he served in the india office, - ; he was m.p. for westminster, - . his works include the _principles of political economy_, ; the _essay on liberty_, , and the _system of logic_, which first appeared in . { a} coleridge, samuel taylor ( - ), poet and critic, was born at ottery st. mary, devonshire; educated at christ's hospital, london, and at jesus college, cambridge. in the volume of _lyrical ballads_ by wordsworth of coleridge contributed the _ancient mariner_, and he was to make his greatest reputation by this and other poems. his best prose work was his _biographia literaria_ ( ). his _aids to reflection_ was first published in . { b} radowitz, joseph maria von ( - ). a prussian general and statesman; born in blankenberg and died in berlin. fought in the napoleonic wars and was wounded at the battle of leipzig. afterwards served as ambassador to various german courts. he wrote several treatises bearing upon current affairs, and his _fragments_ form vols. iv and v of his _collected works_ in volumes, which were issued in berlin in - . { c} gioberti, vincent ( - ). an italian statesman and philosopher; born in turin, where he afterwards became professor of theology. was for a time court chaplain, but his liberal views led to exile, and he retired first to paris, then to brussels. afterwards became famous as a neo-catholic with his attempt to combine faith with science and art, and urged the independence and the unity of italy. his _jesuite moderne_, published in , created a sensation. after some years of home politics he was appointed by king victor emmanuel as ambassador to paris. it is noteworthy in the light of lord acton's recommendation of his _pensieri_ that his works have been placed on the index. { a} humboldt, friedrich heinrich alexander baron von ( - ), the great naturalist, was born and died in berlin, and studied at frankfort- on-the-oder, berlin and gottingen; he spent five years ( - ) in exploring south america, and in travelled through central asia. his _kosmos_ appeared between and in volumes. { b} de candolle, alphonse de ( - ). the son of the celebrated botanist, augustin pyramus de candolle, and was himself a professor of that science at geneva. his _histoire des sciences et des savants depuis deux siecles_ appeared in . { c} darwin, charles robert ( - ), the great naturalist and discoverer of natural selection, was born at shrewsbury, where he was educated at the grammar school, at edinburgh university, and at christ's college, cambridge. his most famous book, _the origin of species by means of natural selection_, was first published in . { d} littre, maximilien paul emile ( - ), the famous lexicographer whose _dictionnaire de la langue francaise_ gave him a world-wide reputation. he was born in paris. he associated himself with auguste comte and the _positive philosophy_, and contributed many volumes in support of comte's standpoint. { e} cournot, antoine augustin ( - ). born at gray in savoy; wrote many mathematical treatises. his _traite de l'enchainement des idees fondamentales dans les sciences et dans l'histoire_ was published in volumes. { } this was a most comprehensive addition, and fully makes up for the abrupt termination of the list of the hundred best books with two omissions. the omission of the book numbered will also have been remarked. there are probably a hundred "monatschriften der wissenschaftlichen vereine" or magazines of scientific societies issued in germany. sperling's _zeitschriften-adressbuch_ gives more than two columns of these. { a} the bible can be best read in paragraph form from the eversley edition, published by the macmillans, or from the temple bible, issued by j. m. dent--the latter an edition for the pocket. the translation of is literature and has made literature. the revised translation of our own day has neither characteristic. something can be said for the douay bible in this connexion. it was published in douay in the same year as the protestant version appeared-- . certain words from it, such as "threnes" for "lamentations" as the threnes of jeremiah, have a poetical quality that deserved survival. { b} the iliad may be read in a hundred verse translations of which those by pope and cowper are the best known. both these may be found in bohn's libraries (g. bell & sons); but the prose translation for which mr. lang and his friends are responsible (macmillan) is for our generation far and away the best introduction to homer for the non-grecian. { a} under the title of "the athenian drama," george allen has published three fine volumes of the works of the greek dramatists. { b} dryden's translation of virgil has been followed by many others both in prose and verse. there was one good prose version by c. davidson recently issued in laurie's classical library. an interesting translation of virgil's _georgics_ into english verse was recently made by lord burghclere and published by john murray. the young student, however, will do well to approach virgil through dryden. he will find the book in the chandos classics, or superbly printed in professor saintsbury's edition of _dryden's works_, vol. xiv. { c} there have been many translations of catullus. one, by sir richard burton, was issued by leonard smithers in . in bohn's library there is a prose translation by walter k. kelly. professor robinson ellis made a verse translation that has been widely praised. grant allen translated the attis in . on the whole, the english verse translation by sir theodore martin made in (blackwood & son) is far and away the best suited for a first acquaintance with this the 'tenderest of roman poets.' { d} horace has been made the subject of many translations. perhaps there are fifty now available. john conington's edition of his complete works, two volumes (bell), is well known. the best introduction to horace for the young student is in sir theodore martin's translation, two volumes (blackwood), and a volume by the same author entitled _horace_ in "ancient classics for english readers" (blackwood) is a charming little book. { a} dante's _divine comedy_ as translated by henry francis cary ( - ) has been described by mr. ruskin as better reading than milton's "paradise lost." james russell lowell, with true patriotism, declared that his countrymen longfellow's translation (routledge) was the best. something may be said for the prose translation by dr. john carlyle of the _inferno_ (bell) and for mr. a. j. butler's prose translation of the whole of the _divine comedy_ in three volumes (macmillan). other translations which have had a great vogue are by wright and dean plumptre. the best books on dante are those by dr. edward moore (clarendon press). cary's translation can be obtained in one volume in bohn's library (bell) or in the chandos classics (warne). { b} i contend that while most of the poets are self-contained in a single volume, shakspere's plays are best enjoyed as separate entities. certainly each of them has a library attached to it, and it is quite profitable to read hamlet in mr. horace howard furness's edition (lippincott) with a multitude of criticisms of the play bound up with the text of hamlet. but hamlet should be read first in the temple shakspere (dent) or in the arden shakspere (methuen). to this last there is an admirable introduction by professor dowden. { c} chaucer's _canterbury tales_ should be read in mr. alfred w. pollard's edition, which forms two volumes of the "eversley library" (macmillan). the "tales" may be obtained in cheaper form in the _chaucer_ of the aldine poets (bell), of which i have grateful memories, having first read "chaucer" in these little volumes. the enthusiast will obtain the complete works of chaucer edited for the clarendon press by professor w. w. skeat. { a} fitzgerald's _omar khayyam_ can be obtained in its four versions, each of which has its merits, only from the macmillans, who publish it in many forms. the edition in the golden treasury series may be particularly commended. the present writer has written an introduction to a sixpenny edition of the first version. it is published by william heinemann. { b} goethe's _faust_ has been translated in many forms. certainly anster's version (sampson low) is the most vivacious. anna swanwick, sir theodore martin and bayard taylor's translations have about equal merit. { c} shelley's _poetical works_ should be read in the one volume issued in green cloth by the macmillans, with an introduction by edward dowden, or in the oxford poets (henry froude), with an introduction by h. buxton forman, but perhaps the best edition is that of the clarendon press with an introduction by thomas hutchinson. mr. forman's library edition of _shelley's complete works_ is the desire of all collectors. { d} _byron's poetical works_, edited by ernest coleridge, form seven volumes of john murray's edition of byron's _works_ in thirteen volumes. there is not a good one-volume byron. i particularly commend the three- volume edition (george newnes). { a} wordsworth may be read in his entirety in the sixteen volumes of _prose and poetry_ edited by william knight in the eversley library (macmillan). the same publisher issues an admirable _wordsworth_ in one volume, edited, with an introduction by john morley. but the first approach to wordsworth's verse should be made through matthew arnold's _select poems_ in the golden treasury series (macmillan). { b} _keats's works_ are issued in one volume in the oxford poets (froude), and in five shilling volumes by gowans and gray of glasgow. mr. buxton forman's annotations to this cheap edition exceed in value those attached to his more expensive "library edition," which, however, as with the _shelley_, in eight volumes, is out of print. { c} the four volumes of burns, with an introduction by w. e. henley, are pleasant to read. they are published by jack, of edinburgh. the best single-volume _burns_ is that in the globe library (macmillan), with an introduction by alexander smith. { d} there is no rival to the one-volume edition of _coleridge's poems_, with an introduction by j. dykes campbell, published by macmillan. mr. dykes campbell's biography of coleridge should also be read. the prose works of coleridge are obtainable in bohn's library. the fortunate book lover has many in pickering editions. { e} _cowper's complete works_ are acquired for a modest sum of the second-hand bookseller in southey's sixteen-volume edition. the two best one-volume issues of the _poems_ are the globe library edition with an introduction by canon benham (macmillan), and _cowper's complete poems_ with an introduction by j. c. bailey (methuen). the best of the letters are contained in a volume in the golden treasury series, with an introduction by mrs. oliphant. _the complete letters of cowper_, edited by thomas wright, have been published by hodder & stoughton in four volumes. { a} _crabbe's works_, in eight volumes, with biography by his son, may be obtained very cheaply from the second-hand book seller. with all the merits of both _works_ and _life_ they have not been reprinted satisfactorily. the only good modern edition of _crabbe's poems_ is in three volumes published by the cambridge university press, edited by a. w. ward. { b} the best one-volume _tennyson_ is issued by the macmillans, who still hold certain copyrights. the library edition of _tennyson_, with the biography included in the twelve volumes, is a desirable acquisition. { c} not all the sixteen volumes of the library edition of _browning_ pay for perusal. the most convenient form is that of the two-volume edition (smith, elder & co.), with notes by augustine birrell. { d} _milton's poetical works_ as annotated by david masson (macmillan) make the standard library edition, and the same publishers have given us the best one-volume _milton_ in the globe library, with an introduction by professor masson, milton's one effective biographer. { a} _the arabian nights' entertainments_ is first introduced to us all as a children's story-book. tennyson has placed on record his own early memories:-- "in sooth it was a goodly time, for it was in the golden prime of good haroun alraschid." but the collector of the hundred best books will do well to read the _arabian nights_ in the translation by edward william lane, edited by stanley lane poole, in volumes, for george bell & sons. { b} the most satisfactory translation of cervantes's great romance is that made by john ormesby, revised and edited by james fitzmaurice-kelly, published by gowans & gray in shilling volumes. { c} _the pilgrim's progress_ is presented in a hundred forms. the present writer first read it in a penny edition. it should be possessed by the book-lover in a volume of the cambridge english classics, in which _grace abounding_ and _the pilgrim's progress_ are given together, edited by dr. john brown, and published by the cambridge university press. { d} schoolboys, notwithstanding macaulay, usually know but few good books, but every schoolboy knows defoe's _robinson crusoe_ in one form or another. the maker of a library will prefer it as a volume of defoe's _works_ (j. m. dent), or as volume vii of defoe's _novels and miscellaneous works_ (bell & sons). there are many good shilling editions of the book by itself, but defoe should be read in many of his works and particularly in _moll flanders_. { a} as with _robinson crusoe_, _gulliver's travels_ can be obtained in many cheap forms, but it is well that it should be obtained as volume viii of _swift's prose works_, published in bohn's libraries by george bell & sons. there has not been a really good edition of swift's works since scott's monumental book. { b} _clarissa_ should be read in nine of the twenty volumes of richardson's novels, published by chapman & hall--a very dainty well-printed book. "i love these large, still books," said lord tennyson. { c} the greatest of all novels, _tom jones_, is obtainable in several library editions of fielding's _works_. a cheap well-printed form is that of the _works of henry fielding_ in volumes, published by gay & bird. here _the story of tom jones a foundling_ is in volumes. the book is in volumes in bohn's library--an excellent edition. { d} johnson's _rasselas_ has frequently been reprinted, but there is no edition for a book-lover at present in the bookshops. it is included in _classic tales_ in a volume of bohn's standard library. the wise course is to look out for one of the earlier editions with copper plates that are constantly to be found on second-hand bookstalls. but johnson's _works_ should be bought in a fine octavo edition. { a} goldsmith's _vicar of wakefield_ should be possessed in the edition which mr. hugh thomson has illustrated and mr. austin dobson has edited for the macmillans. there is a good edition of goldsmith's _works_ in bohn's library. { b} sterne's _sentimental journey_ is also a volume for the second- hand bookstall, although that and the equally fine _tristram shandy_ may be obtained in many pretty forms. i have two editions of sterne's books, but they are both fine old copies. { c} there are two very good editions of peacock's delightful romances. _nightmare abbey_ forms a volume of j. m. dent's edition in volumes, edited by dr. garnett; and the whole of peacock's remarkable stories are contained in a single volume of newnes' "thin paper classics." { d} sir walter scott's novels are available in many forms equally worthy of a good library. the best is the edition published by jack of edinburgh. the temple library of scott (j. m. dent) may be commended for those who desire pocket volumes, while mr. andrew lang's introductions give an added value to an edition published by the macmillans, scott's twenty-eight novels are indispensable to every good library, and every reader will have his own favourite. { e} balzac's novels are obtainable in a good translation by ellen marriage, edited by george saintsbury, published in new york by the macmillan company and in london by j. m. dent. { a} a translation of dumas' novels in volumes is published by dent. _the three musketeers_ is in volumes. there are many cheap one volume editions. { b} thackeray's _vanity fair_ is pleasantly read in the edition of his novels published by j. m. dent. his original publishers, smith, elder & co., issue his works in many forms. { c} the best edition of charlotte bronte's _villette_ is that in the "haworth edition," published by smith, elder & co., with an introduction by mrs. humphry ward. { d} charles dickens' novels, of which _david copperfield_ is generally pronounced to be the best, should be obtained in the "oxford india paper dickens" (chapman & hall and henry frowde). a serviceable edition is that published by the macmillans, with introductions by charles dickens's son, but that edition still fails of _our mutual friend_ and _the mystery of edwin drood_, of which the copyright is not yet exhausted. { e} anthony trollope's novels are being reissued, in england by john lane and george bell & sons, and in america in a most attractive form by dodd, mead & co. all three publishers have a good edition of _barchester towers_, trollope's best novel. { f} boccaccio's _decameron_ is in my library in many forms--in volumes of the villon society's publications, translated by john payne; in handsome volumes issued by laurence & bullen; and in the extra volumes of bohn's library. there is a pretty edition available published by gibbons in volumes. { a} emily bronte's _wuthering heights_ forms a volume of the haworth edition of the bronte novels, published by smith, elder & co. it has an introduction by mrs. humphry ward. { b} charles reade's _cloister and the hearth_ is available in many forms. the pleasantest is in volumes issued by chatto & windus, with an introduction by sir walter besant. there is a remarkable shilling edition issued by collins of glasgow. { c} victor hugo's _les miserables_ may be most pleasantly read in the volumes, translated by m. jules gray, published by j. m. dent & co. { d} mrs. gaskell's _cranford_ can be obtained in the six volume edition of that writer's works published by smith, elder & co., with introductions by dr. a. w. ward; in a volume illustrated by hugh thomson, with an introduction by mrs. ritchie, published by the macmillans, or in the world's classics (henry frowde), where there is an additional chapter entitled, "the cage at cranford." { e} the translation of george sand's _consuelo_ in my library is by frank h. potter, volumes, dodd, mead & co., new york. { f} lever's _charles o'malley_ i have as volumes of the _complete works_ published by downey. there is a pleasant edition in nelson's "pocket library." { a} macaulay's _history of england_ is available in many attractive forms from the original publishers, the longmans. there is a neat thin paper edition for the pocket in volumes issued by chatto & windus. { b} for carlyle's _past and present_ i recommend the centenary edition of carlyle's _works_, published by chapman & hall. there is an annotated edition of _sartor resartus_ by j. a. s. barrett (a. & c. black), two annotated editions of _the french-revolution_, one by dr. holland rose (g. bell & sons), and an other by c. r. l. fletcher, volumes (methuen), and an annotated edition of _the cromwell letters_, edited by s. c. lomax, volumes (methuen). no publisher has yet attempted an annotated edition of _past and present_, but sir ernest clarke's translation of _jocelyn of bragelond_ (chatto & windus) may be commended as supplemental to carlyle's most delightful book. { c} motley's _works_ are available in volumes of a library edition published by john murray. a cheaper issue of the _dutch republic_ is that in volumes of the world's classics, to which i have contributed a biographical introduction. { d} for many years the one standard edition of _gibbon_ was that published by john murray, in volumes, with notes by dean milman and others. it has been superseded by professor bury's annotated edition in volumes (methuen). { a} plutarch's _lives_, translated by a. stewart and george long, form volumes of bohn's standard library. there is a handy volume for the pocket in dent's temple classics in volumes, translated by sir thomas north. { b} montaigne's _essays_ i have in three forms; in the tudor translations (david nutt), where there is an introduction to the volumes of sir thomas north's translation by the rt. hon. george wyndham; in dent's temple classics, where john florio's translation is given in volumes. a much valued edition is that in volumes, the translation by charles cotton, published by reeves & turner in . { c} steele's essays were written for the _tatler_ and the _spectator_ side by side with those of addison. the best edition of _the spectator_ is that published in volumes, edited by george a. aitken for nimmo, and of _the tatler_ that published in volumes, edited also by mr. aitken for duckworth & co. { d} lamb's _essays of elia_ can be read in a volume of the eversley library (macmillan), edited by canon ainger. the standard edition of lamb's _works_ is that edited by mr. e. v. lucas, in volumes, for methuen. mr. lucas's biography of lamb has superseded all others. { e} thomas de quincey's _opium eater_ may be obtained as a volume of newnes's thin paper classics, in the world's classics, or in dent's everyman's library. but the _complete works_ of de quincey, in volumes, edited by david mason and published by a. & c. black, should be in every library. { a} william hazlitt never received the treatment he deserved until mr. j. m. dent issued in his _collected works_, in volumes, edited by a. r. waller and arnold glover. of cheap reprints of hazlitt i commend _the spirit of the age_, _winterslow_ and _sketches and essays_, three separate volumes of the world's classics (frowde). { b} george borrow's _lavengro_ should only be read in mr. john murray's edition, as it there contains certain additional and valuable matter gathered from the original manuscript by william i. knapp. the library edition of borrow, in volumes (murray), may be particularly commended. { c} emerson's _complete works_ are published by the routledges in volumes, in which _representative men_ may be found in vol. ii. some may prefer the eversley library _emerson_, which has an introduction by john morley. there are many cheap editions of about equal value. { d} lander's _imaginary conversations_ form six volumes of the complete _landor_, edited by charles g. crump, and published in volumes by j. m. dent. { e} matthew arnold's _essays in criticism_ is published by macmillan. it also forms vol. iii of the library edition of his _works_ in volumes. a "second series" has less significance. { f} _the works of herodotus_, published by the macmillans, translated by george c. macaulay, is the best edition for the general reader. canon rawlinson's _herodotus_, published by john murray, has had a longer life, but is now only published in an abridged form. { a} james howell's _familiar letters_, or _epistolae ho elianae_, should be read in the edition published in volumes by david nutt, with an introduction by joseph jacobs. { b} _the history of civilization_, by henry thomas buckle, is in my library in the original volumes published by parker in . it is now issued in volumes in longman's silver library, and in volumes in the world's classics. { c} _the history of tacitus_ should be read in the translation by alfred john church and william jackson brodripp. it is published by the macmillans. { d} _our village_, by mary russell mitford, is a collection of essays which in their completest form may be obtained in two volumes of bohn's library (bell). the essential essays should be possessed in the edition published by the macmillans--_our village_, by mary russell mitford, with an introduction by anne thackeray ritchie, and one hundred illustrations by hugh thomson. { e} green's _short history of the english people_ is published by the macmillans in volume, or illustrated in volumes. the book was enlarged, but disimproved, under the title of _a history of the english people_, in volumes, uniform with the _conquest of england_ and the _making of england_ by the same author. { a} taine's _ancient regime_ is a good introduction to the conditions which made the french revolution. it forms the first volume of _les origines de la france contemporaine_, and may be read in a translation by john durand, published by dalby, isbister & co. in . { b} _the life of napoleon_ has been written by many pens, in our own day most competently by dr. holland rose ( vols. bell); but a good account of the emperor, indispensable for some particulars and an undoubted classic, is that by de bourrienne, napoleon's private secretary, published in an english translation, in volumes, by bentley in . { c} _democracy in america_, by alexis de tocqueville, may be had in a translation by henry reeve, published in volumes by the longmans. read also _a history of the united states_ by c. benjamin andrews, volumes (smith, elder), and above all the _american commonwealth_, by james bryce, volumes (macmillan). { d} _the compleat angler_ of isaac walton may be purchased in many forms. i have a fine library edition edited by that prince of living anglers, mr. r. b. marston, called the lea and dove edition, this being the th edition of the book (sampson low, ). i have also an edition edited by george a. b. dewar, with an introduction by sir edward grey and etchings by william strang and d. y. cameron, volumes (freemantle), and a volume edition published by ingram & cooke in the illustrated library. { a} there are many editions of gilbert white's _natural history of selbourne_ to be commended. three that are in my library are ( ) edited with an introduction and notes by l. c. miall and w. warde fowler (methuen); ( ) edited with notes by grant allen, illustrated by edmund h. new (john lane); ( ) rearranged and classified under subjects by charles mosley (elliot stock). { b} of _boswell's life of johnson_ there are innumerable editions. the special enthusiast will not be happy until he possesses dr. birkbeck hill's edition in volumes (clarendon press). the most satisfactory volume edition is that published on thin paper by henry frowde. i have in my library also a copy of the first edition of _boswell_ in volumes. it was published by henry baldwin in . { c} the best edition of lockhart's _life of scott_ is that published in volumes by jack of edinburgh. readers should beware of abridgments, although one of these was made by lockhart himself. the whole eighty-five chapters are worth reading, even in the volume edition published by a. & c. black. { d} _pepys's diary_ can be obtained in bohn's library or in newnes' thin paper classics, but pepys should only be read under mr. h. b. wheatley's guidance. a cheap edition of his book, in volumes, has recently been published by george bell & sons. i have no. of the large paper edition of this book, no. having gone to pepys's own college of brazenose, where the pepys cypher is preserved. { a} until recently one knew walpole's _letters_ only through peter cunningham's edition, in volumes (bentley), and this has still exclusive matter for the enthusiast, cunningham's introduction to wit; but the clarendon press has now published walpole's _letters_, edited by mrs. paget toynbee, in volumes, or in . here are to be found more letters than in any previous edition. { b} _the memoirs of count de gramont_, by anthony, count hamilton, can be obtained in splendid type, unannotated, in an edition published by arthur l. humphreys. a well-illustrated and well-edited edition is that published by bickers of london and scribner of new york, edited by allan fea. { c} gray's _letters_, with poems and life, form volumes in macmillan's eversley library, edited by edmund gosse. { d} you can obtain southey's _nelson_, originally written for murray's pocket library as a publisher's commission, in one well-printed volume, with introduction by david hannay, published by william heinemann. it should, however, be supplemented in the _life_ by captain mahan ( volumes, sampson low & co.), or by professor laughton's _nelson and his companion in arms_ (george allen). { e} moore's _life and letters of byron_ is published by john murray in volumes. it is best purchased second-hand in an old set. moore's book must be supplemented by the volumes of _correspondence_ edited by rowland prothero for mr. murray. { a} sir george trevelyan says in his _early history of charles james fox_ that hogg's _life of shelley_ is "perhaps the most interesting book in our language that has never been republished." the reproach has been in some slight measure removed by a cheap reprint in small type issued by the routledges in . the reader should, however, secure a copy of the first edition, volumes, . professor dowden, in his _life of shelley_, , uses the book freely. { b} "what is the best book you have ever read?" emerson is said to have asked george eliot when she was about twenty-two years of age and residing, unknown, near coventry. "rousseau's _confessions_," was the reply. "i agree with you," emerson answered. but the book should not be read in a translation. the completest translation is one in volumes published by nicholls. there is a more abridged translation by gibbons in volumes. { c} _the life of carlyle_, by james anthony froude, which created so much controversy upon its publication, is worthy of a cheap edition, which does not, however, seem to be forthcoming. the book appeared in volumes, _the first forty years_ in and _life in london_ in . it had been preceded by _reminiscences_ in . every one should read the _letters and memorials of jane welsh carlyle_, volumes, . all the volumes are published by the longmans. { a} samuel rogers' _table talk_ has been given us in two forms, first as _recollections of the table talk of samuel rogers_, edited by alexander dyce, , and second as _reminiscences of samuel rogers_, . the _recollections_ were reprinted in handsome form by h. a. rogers, of new southgate, in , and the material was combined in a single volume in by g. h. powell (r. brimley johnson). i have the four books, and delight in the many good stories they contain. { b} _the confessions of st. augustine_ may be commended in many small and handy editions. one, with an introduction by alice meynell, was published in . the most beautifully printed modern edition is that issued by arthur humphreys in his classical series. { c} amiel's _journal_ is a fine piece of introspection. a translation by mrs. humphry ward is published in volumes by the macmillans. de senancour's _obermann_, translated by a. e. waite (wellby), should be read in this connexion. { d} _the meditations of marcus aurelius_, translated by george long, appears as a volume of bohn's library, and more beautifully printed in the library of arthur humphreys. there are many other good translations--one by john jackson, issued in by the clarendon press, has great merit. { e} george henry lewes's _life of goethe_ has gone through many editions and remains a fascinating book, although it may be supplemented by the translation of duntzer's _life of goethe_, volumes, macmillan, and bielschowsky's _life of goethe_, vols. i and ii (putnams). { a} _the life of lessing_, by james sime, is not a great biography, but it is an interesting and most profitable study of a noble man. lessing will be an inspiration greater almost than any other of the moderns for those who are brought in contact with his fine personality. the book is in volumes, published by the trubners. { b} you can read benjamin franklin's _autobiography_ in volume (dent), or in his collected works--_memoirs of the life and writings of benjamin franklin_, edited by his grandson, william temple franklin, volumes (colburn), . there have been at least two expensive reprints of his _works_ of late years. { c} _the greville memoirs_ were published in large octavo form in the first place. much scandal was omitted from the second edition. they are now obtainable in volumes of longmans' silver library. they form an interesting glimpse into the court life of the later guelphs. { d} it has been complained of john forster's _life of charles dickens_ that there is too much forster and not enough dickens. yet it is the only guide to the life-story of the greatest of the victorian novelists. is most pleasant to read in the volumes of the gadshill edition, published by chapman & hall. { e} _the early diary of frances burney_, afterwards madame d'arblay, edited by annie raine ellis, has just been reprinted in two volumes of bohn's library (bell). we owe also to mr. austen dobson a fine reprint of the later and more important _diaries_, which he has edited in volumes for the macmillans. { a} the _apologia pro vita sua_ of john henry newman is one of the volumes of cardinal newman's _collected works_ issued by the longmans. it is the most interesting, and is perhaps the most destined to survive, of all the books of theological controversy of the nineteenth century. { b} there is practically but one edition of the _paston letters_, that edited by james gairdner, of the public record office, and published by the firm of archibald constable. the luxurious library edition issued by chatto & windus in volumes should be acquired if possible. { c} _the autobiography of benvenuto cellini_ is best known in the translation of thomas roscoe in bohn's library. mr. j. addington symonds, however, made a new translation, issued in two fine volumes by nimmo. { d} the _religio medici_ of sir thomas browne can be obtained in many forms, although the well-to-do collector will be satisfied only with the edition edited by simon wilkin. the book is admirably edited by w. a. greenhill for the "golden treasury series." transcribed from the chapman & hall edition by david price, email ccx @pglaf.org george borrow the man and his books by edward thomas author of "the life of richard jefferies," "light and twilight," "rest and unrest," "maurice maeterlinck," etc. with portraits and illustrations london chapman & hall, ltd. printed by jas. truscott and son, ltd., london, e.c. {picture: george borrow, (from the painting by h. w. phillips, r.a., in the possession of mr. john murray, by whose kind permission the picture is reproduced.): page .jpg} note the late dr. w. i. knapp's life (john murray) and mr. watts-dunton's prefaces are the fountains of information about borrow, and i have clearly indicated how much i owe to them. what i owe to my friend, mr. thomas seccombe, cannot be so clearly indicated, but his prefaces have been meat and drink to me. i have also used mr. r. a. j. walling's sympathetic and interesting "george borrow." the british and foreign bible society has given me permission to quote from borrow's letters to the society, edited in by the rev. t. h. darlow; and messrs. t. c. cantrill and j. pringle have put at my disposal their publication of borrow's journal of his second welsh tour, wonderfully annotated by themselves ("y cymmrodor," ). these and other sources are mentioned where they are used and in the bibliography. dedication to e. s. p. haynes my dear haynes, by dedicating this book to you, i believe it is my privilege to introduce you and borrow. this were sufficient reason for the dedication. the many better reasons are beyond my eloquence, much though i have remembered them this winter, listening to the storms of caermarthen bay, the screams of pigs, and the street tunes of "fall in and follow me," "yip-i-addy," and "the first good joy that mary had." yours, edward thomas. laugharne, caermarthenshire, _december_, . chapter i--borrow's autobiography the subject of this book was a man who was continually writing about himself, whether openly or in disguise. he was by nature inclined to thinking about himself and when he came to write he naturally wrote about himself; and his inclination was fortified by the obvious impression made upon other men by himself and by his writings. he has been dead thirty years; much has been written about him by those who knew him or knew those that did: yet the impression still made by him, and it is one of the most powerful, is due mainly to his own books. nor has anything lately come to light to provide another writer on borrow with an excuse. the impertinence of the task can be tempered only by its apparent hopelessness and by that necessity which voltaire did not see. i shall attempt only a re-arrangement of the myriad details accessible to all in the writings of borrow and about borrow. such re-arrangement will sometimes heighten the old effects and sometimes modify them. the total impression will, i hope, not be a smaller one, though it must inevitably be softer, less clear, less isolated, less gigantic. i do not wish, and i shall not try, to deface borrow's portrait of himself; i can only hope that i shall not do it by accident. there may be a sense in which that portrait can be called inaccurate. it may even be true that "lies--damned lies" { } helped to make it. but nobody else knows anything like as much about the truth, and a peddling biographer's mouldy fragment of plain fact may be far more dangerous than the manly lying of one who was in possession of all the facts. in most cases the fact--to use an equivocal term--is dead and blown away in dust while borrow's impression is as green as grass. his "lies" are lies only in the same sense as all clothing is a lie. for example, he knew a gypsy named ambrose smith, and had sworn brotherhood with him as a boy. he wrote about this gypsy, man and boy, and at first called him, as the manuscripts bear witness, by his real name, though borrow thought of him in as petulengro. in print he was given the name jasper petulengro--petulengro being gypsy for shoesmith--and as jasper petulengro he is now one of the most unforgetable of heroes; the name is the man, and for many englishmen his form and character have probably created quite a new value for the name of jasper. well, jasper petulengro lives. ambrose smith died in , at the age of seventy-four, after being visited by the late queen victoria at knockenhair park: he was buried in dunbar cemetery. { } in the matter of his own name borrow made another creative change of a significant kind. he was christened george henry borrow on july th (having been born on the th), , at east dereham, in norfolk. as a boy he signed his name, george henry borrow. as a young man of the byronic age and a translator of scandinavian literature, he called himself in print, george olaus borrow. his biographer, dr. william ireland knapp, says that borrow's first name "expressed the father's admiration for the reigning monarch," george iii.; but there is no reason to believe this, and certainly borrow himself made of the combination which he finally adopted--george borrow--something that retains not the slightest flavour of any other george. such changes are common enough. john richard jefferies becomes richard jefferies; robert lewis balfour stevenson becomes robert louis stevenson. but borrow could touch nothing without transmuting it. for example, in his byronic period, when he was about twenty years of age, he was translating "romantic ballads" from the danish. in the last verse of one of these, called "elvir hill," he takes the liberty of using the byronic "lay": 'tis therefore i counsel each young danish swain who may ride in the forest so dreary, ne'er to lay down upon lone elvir hill though he chance to be ever so weary. twenty years later he used this ballad romantically in writing about his early childhood. he was travelling with his father's regiment from town to town and from school to school, and they came to berwick-upon-tweed: { } "and it came to pass that, one morning, i found myself extended on the bank of a river. it was a beautiful morning of early spring; small white clouds were floating in the heaven, occasionally veiling the countenance of the sun, whose light, as they retired, would again burst forth, coursing like a racehorse over the scene--and a goodly scene it was! before me, across the water, on an eminence, stood a white old city, surrounded with lofty walls, above which rose the tops of tall houses, with here and there a church or steeple. to my right hand was a long and massive bridge, with many arches and of antique architecture, which traversed the river. the river was a noble one; the broadest that i had hitherto seen. its waters, of a greenish tinge, poured with impetuosity beneath the narrow arches to meet the sea, close at hand, as the boom of the billows breaking distinctly upon a beach declared. there were songs upon the river from the fisher-barks; and occasionally a chorus, plaintive and wild, such as i had never heard before, the words of which i did not understand, but which at the present time, down the long avenue of years, seem in memory's ear to sound like 'horam, coram, dago.' several robust fellows were near me, some knee-deep in water, employed in hauling the seine upon the strand. huge fish were struggling amidst the meshes--princely salmon--their brilliant mail of blue and silver flashing in the morning beam; so goodly and gay a scene, in truth, had never greeted my boyish eye. "and, as i gazed upon the prospect, my bosom began to heave, and my tears to trickle. was it the beauty of the scene which gave rise to these emotions? possibly; for though a poor ignorant child--a half-wild creature--i was not insensible to the loveliness of nature, and took pleasure in the happiness and handiworks of my fellow-creatures. yet, perhaps, in something more deep and mysterious the feeling which then pervaded me might originate. who can lie down on elvir hill without experiencing something of the sorcery of the place? flee from elvir hill, young swain, or the maids of elle will have power over you, and you will go elf-wild!--so say the danes. i had unconsciously laid myself down on haunted ground; and i am willing to imagine that what i then experienced was rather connected with the world of spirits and dreams than with what i actually saw and heard around me. surely the elves and genii of the place were conversing, by some inscrutable means, with the principle of intelligence lurking within the poor uncultivated clod! perhaps to that ethereal principle the wonders of the past, as connected with that stream, the glories of the present, and even the history of the future, were at that moment being revealed! of how many feats of chivalry had those old walls been witness, when hostile kings contended for their possession?--how many an army from the south and from the north had trod that old bridge?--what red and noble blood had crimsoned those rushing waters?--what strains had been sung, ay, were yet being sung on its banks?--some soft as doric reed; some fierce and sharp as those of norwegian skaldaglam; some as replete with wild and wizard force as finland's runes, singing of kalevale's moors, and the deeds of woinomoinen! honour to thee, thou island stream! onward mayst thou ever roll, fresh and green, rejoicing in thy bright past, thy glorious present, and in vivid hope of a triumphant future! flow on, beautiful one!--which of the world's streams canst thou envy, with thy beauty and renown? stately is the danube, rolling in its might through lands romantic with the wild exploits of turk, polak, and magyar! lovely is the rhine! on its shelvy banks grows the racy grape; and strange old keeps of robber-knights of yore are reflected in its waters, from picturesque crags and airy headlands!--yet neither the stately danube, nor the beauteous rhine, with all their fame, though abundant, needst thou envy, thou pure island stream!--and far less yon turbid river of old, not modern renown, gurgling beneath the walls of what was once proud rome, towering rome, jupiter's town, but now vile rome, crumbling rome, batuscha's town, far less needst thou envy the turbid tiber of bygone fame, creeping sadly to the sea, surcharged with the abominations of modern rome--how unlike to thee, thou pure island stream!" in this passage borrow concentrates upon one scene the feelings of three remote periods of his life. he gives the outward scene as he remembers it forty years after, and together with the thoughts which now come into his mind. he gives the romantic suggestion from one of the favourite ballads of his youth, "elvir hill." he gives the child himself weeping, he knows not why. yet the passage is one and indivisible. these, at any rate, are not "lies--damned lies." chapter ii--his own hero borrow's principal study was himself, and in all his best books he is the chief subject and the chief object. yet when he came to write confessedly and consecutively about himself he found it no easy task. dr. knapp gives an interesting account of the stages by which he approached and executed it. his first mature and original books, "the zincali," or "the gypsies of spain," and "the bible in spain," had a solid body of subject matter more or less interesting in itself, and anyone with a pen could have made it acceptable to the public which desires information. "the bible of spain" was the book of the year , read by everybody in one or other of the six editions published in the first twelve months. these books were also full of himself. even "the zincali," written for the most part in spain, when he was a man of about thirty and had no reason for expecting the public to be interested in himself, especially in a gypsy crowd--even that early book prophesied very different things. he said in the "preface" that he bore the gypsies no ill-will, for he had known them "for upwards of twenty years, in various countries, and they never injured a hair of his head, or deprived him of a shred of his raiment." the motive for this forbearance, he said, was that they thought him a gypsy. in his "introduction" he satisfied some curiosity, but raised still more, when speaking of the english gypsies and especially of their eminence "in those disgraceful and brutalising exhibitions called pugilistic combats." "when a boy of fourteen," he says, "i was present at a prize fight; why should i hide the truth? it took place on a green meadow, beside a running stream, close by the old church of e---, and within a league of the ancient town of n---, the capital of one of the eastern counties. the terrible thurtell was present, lord of the concourse; for wherever he moved he was master, and whenever he spoke, even when in chains, every other voice was silent. he stood on the mead, grim and pale as usual, with his bruisers around. he it was, indeed, who _got up_ the fight, as he had previously done with respect to twenty others; it being his frequent boast that he had first introduced bruising and bloodshed amidst rural scenes, and transformed a quiet slumbering town into a den of jews and metropolitan thieves. some time before the commencement of the combat, three men, mounted on wild-looking horses, came dashing down the road in the direction of the meadow, in the midst of which they presently showed themselves, their horses clearing the deep ditches with wonderful alacrity. 'that's gypsy will and his gang,' lisped a hebrew pickpocket; 'we shall have another fight.' the word gypsy was always sufficient to excite my curiosity, and i looked attentively at the new comers. "i have seen gypsies of various lands, russian, hungarian, and turkish; and i have also seen the legitimate children of most countries of the world, but i never saw, upon the whole, three more remarkable individuals, as far as personal appearance was concerned, than the three english gypsies who now presented themselves to my eyes on that spot. two of them had dismounted, and were holding their horses by the reins. the tallest, and, at the first glance, the most interesting of the two, was almost a giant, for his height could not have been less than six feet three. it is impossible for the imagination to conceive any thing more perfectly beautiful than were the features of this man, and the most skilful sculptor of greece might have taken them as his model for a hero and a god. the forehead was exceedingly lofty--a rare thing in a gypsy; the nose less roman than grecian--fine yet delicate; the eyes large, overhung with long drooping lashes, giving them almost a melancholy expression; it was only when they were highly elevated that the gypsy glance peered out, if that can be called glance which is a strange stare, like nothing else in this world. his complexion--a beautiful olive; and his teeth of a brilliancy uncommon even amongst these people, who have all fine teeth. he was dressed in a coarse waggoner's slop, which, however, was unable to conceal altogether the proportions of his noble and herculean figure. he might be about twenty-eight. his companion and his captain, gypsy will, was, i think, fifty when he was hanged, ten years subsequently (for i never afterwards lost sight of him), in the front of the jail of bury st. edmunds. i have still present before me his bushy black hair, his black face, and his big black eyes, full and thoughtful, but fixed and staring. his dress consisted of a loose blue jockey coat, jockey boots and breeches; in his hand a huge jockey whip, and on his head (it struck me at the time for its singularity) a broad- brimmed, high-peaked andalusian hat, or at least one very much resembling those generally worn in that province. in stature he was shorter than his more youthful companion, yet he must have measured six feet at least, and was stronger built, if possible. what brawn!--what bone!--what legs!--what thighs! the third gypsy, who remained on horseback, looked more like a phantom than any thing human. his complexion was the colour of pale dust, and of that same colour was all that pertained to him, hat and clothes. his boots were dusty of course, for it was midsummer, and his very horse was of a dusty dun. his features were whimsically ugly, most of his teeth were gone, and as to his age, he might be thirty or sixty. he was somewhat lame and halt, but an unequalled rider when once upon his steed, which he was naturally not very solicitous to quit. i subsequently discovered that he was considered the wizard of the gang. {picture: john thurtell. (from an old print.): page .jpg} "i have been already prolix with respect to these gypsies, but i will not leave them quite yet. the intended combatants at length arrived; it was necessary to clear the ring--always a troublesome and difficult task. thurtell went up to the two gypsies, with whom he seemed to be acquainted, and, with his surly smile, said two or three words, which i, who was standing by, did not understand. the gypsies smiled in return, and giving the reins of their animals to their mounted companion, immediately set about the task which the king of the flash-men had, as i conjecture, imposed upon them; this they soon accomplished. who could stand against such fellows and such whips? the fight was soon over--then there was a pause. once more thurtell came up to the gypsies and said something--the gypsies looked at each other and conversed; but their words had then no meaning for my ears. the tall gypsy shook his head. 'very well,' said the other, in english, 'i will--that's all.' "then pushing the people aside, he strode to the ropes, over which he bounded into the ring, flinging his spanish hat high into the air. "_gypsy will_.--'the best man in england for twenty pounds!' "_thurtell_.--'i am backer!' "twenty pounds is a tempting sum, and there were men that day upon the green meadow who would have shed the blood of their own fathers for the fifth of the price. but the gypsy was not an unknown man, his prowess and strength were notorious, and no one cared to encounter him. some of the jews looked eager for a moment; but their sharp eyes quailed quickly before his savage glances, as he towered in the ring, his huge form dilating, and his black features convulsed with excitement. the westminster bravos eyed the gypsy askance; but the comparison, if they made any, seemed by no means favourable to themselves. 'gypsy! rum chap.--ugly customer,--always in training.' such were the exclamations which i heard, some of which at that period of my life i did not understand. "no man would fight the gypsy.--yes! a strong country fellow wished to win the stakes, and was about to fling up his hat in defiance, but he was prevented by his friends, with--'fool! he'll kill you!' "as the gypsies were mounting their horses, i heard the dusty phantom exclaim-- "'brother, you are an arrant ring-maker and a horse-breaker; you'll make a hempen ring to break your own neck of a horse one of these days.' "they pressed their horses' flanks, again leaped over the ditches, and speedily vanished, amidst the whirlwinds of dust which they raised upon the road. "the words of the phantom gypsy were ominous. gypsy will was eventually executed for a murder committed in his early youth, in company with two english labourers, one of whom confessed the fact on his death-bed. he was the head of the clan young, which, with the clan smith, still haunts two of the eastern counties." in spite of this, borrow said in the same book that this would probably be the last occasion he would have to speak of the gypsies or anything relating to them. in "the bible in spain," written and revised several years later, he changed his mind. he wrote plenty about gypsies and still more about himself. when he wished to show the height of the spanish prime minister, mendizabal, he called him "a huge athletic man, somewhat taller than myself, who measure six feet two without my shoes." he informed the public that when he met an immense dog in strolling round the ruins above monte moro, he stooped till his chin nearly touched his knee and looked the animal full in the face, "and, as john leyden says, in the noblest ballad which the land of heather has produced:-- 'the hound he yowled, and back he fled, as struck with fairy charm.'" when his servant lopez was imprisoned at villallos, borrow had reason to fear that the man would be sacrificed to political opponents in that violent time, so, as he told the english minister at madrid, he bore off lopez, single-handed and entirely unarmed, through a crowd of at least one hundred peasants, and furthermore shouted: "hurrah for isabella the second." and as for mystery, "the bible in spain" abounds with invitations to admiration and curiosity. let one example suffice. he had come back to seville from a walk in the country when a man emerging from an archway looked in his face and started back, "exclaiming in the purest and most melodious french: 'what do i see? if my eyes do not deceive me--it is himself. yes, the very same as i saw him first at bayonne; then long subsequently beneath the brick wall at novgorod; then beside the bosphorus; and last at--at--o my respectable and cherished friend, where was it that i had last the felicity of seeing your well- remembered and most remarkable physiognomy?'" borrows answers: "it was in the south of ireland, if i mistake not. was it not there that i introduced you to the sorcerer who tamed the savage horses by a single whisper into their ear? but tell me, what brings you to spain and andalusia, the last place where i should have expected to find you." baron taylor (isidore justin severin, baron taylor, - ) now introduces him to a friend as "my most cherished and respectable friend, one who is better acquainted with gypsy ways than the chef de bohemiens a triana, one who is an expert whisperer and horse-sorcerer, and who, to his honour i say it, can wield hammer and tongs, and handle a horse-shoe, with the best of the smiths amongst the alpujarras of granada." borrow then lightly portrays his accomplished and extraordinary cosmopolitan friend, with the conclusion: "he has visited most portions of the earth, and it is remarkable enough that we are continually encountering each other in strange places and under singular circumstances. whenever he descries me, whether in the street or the desert, the brilliant hall or amongst bedouin haimas, at novgorod or stamboul, he flings up his arms and exclaims, 'o ciel! i have again the felicity of seeing my cherished and most respectable b---.'" borrow could not avoid making himself impressive and mysterious. he was impressive and mysterious without an effort; the individual or the public was impressed, and he was naturally tempted to be more impressive. thus, in december of the year he had to go to london for his first meeting with the bible society, who had been recommended to give him work where he could use his knowledge of languages. as he was at norwich, the distance was a hundred and twelve miles, and as he was poor he walked. he spent fivepence-halfpenny on a pint of ale, half-pint of milk, a roll of bread and two apples during the journey, which took him twenty-seven hours. he reached the society's office early in the morning and waited for the secretary. when the secretary arrived he hoped that borrow had slept well on his journey. borrow said that, as far as he knew, he had not slept, because he had walked. the secretary's surprise can be imagined from this alone, or if not, from what followed. for borrow went on talking, and told the man, among other things, that he was stolen by gypsies when he was a boy--had passed several years with them, but had at last been recognised at a fair in norfolk, and brought home to his family by an uncle. it was not to be expected that borrow would conceal from the public "several years" of this kind. nevertheless, in none of his books has he so much as hinted at a period of adoption with gypsies when he was a boy. nor has that massive sleuth-hound, dr. knapp, discovered any traces of such an adoption. if there is any foundation for the story except borrow's wish to please the secretary, it is the escapade of his fourteenth or fifteenth year--when he and three other boys from norwich grammar school played truant, intending to make caves to dwell in among the sandhills twenty miles away on the coast, but were recognised on the road, deceitfully detained by a benevolent gentleman and within a few days brought back, borrow himself being horsed on the back of james martineau, according to the picturesque legend, for such a thrashing that he had to lie in bed a fortnight and must bear the marks of it while he was flesh and blood. borrow celebrated this escapade by a ballad in dialogue called "the wandering children and the benevolent gentleman. an idyll of the roads." { a} there may have been another escapade of the same kind, for dr knapp { b} prints an account of how borrow, at the age of fifteen, and two schoolfellows lived for three days in a cave at acle when they ought to have been at school. but his companions were the same in both stories, and "three days in a cave" is a very modest increase for such a story in half-a-century. it was only fifteen years later that borrow took revenge upon the truth and told the story of his exile with the gypsies. {picture: the grammar school norwich. photo: jarrold & sons, norwich: page .jpg} probably every man has more or less clearly and more or less constantly before his mind's eye an ideal self which the real seldom more than approaches. this ideal self may be morally or in other ways inferior, but it remains the standard by which the man judges his acts. some men prove the existence of this ideal self by announcing now and then that they are misunderstood. or they do things which they afterwards condemn as irrelevant or uncharacteristic and out of harmony. borrow had an ideal self very clearly before him when he was writing, and it is probable that in writing he often described not what he was but what in a better, larger, freer, more borrovian world he would have actually become. he admired the work of his creator, but he would not affect to be satisfied with it in every detail, and stepping forward he snatched the brush and made a bolder line and braver colour. also he ardently desired to do more than he ever did. when in spain he wrote to his friend hasfeldt at st. petersburg, telling him that he wished to visit china by way of russia or constantinople and armenia. when indignant with the bible society in he suggested retiring to "the wilds of tartary or the zigani camps of siberia." he continued to suggest china even after his engagement to mrs. clarke. just as he played up to the secretary in conversation, so he played up to the friends and the public who were allured by the stories left untold or half-told in "the zincali" and "the bible in spain." chief among his encouragers was richard ford, author (in ) of the "handbook for travellers in spain and readers at home," a man of character and style, learned and a traveller. in , before "the bible in spain" appeared, ford told borrow how he wished that he had told more about himself, and how he was going to hint in a review that borrow ought to publish the whole of his adventures for the last twenty years. the publisher's reader, who saw the manuscript of "the bible in spain" in , suggested that borrow should prefix a short account of his birth, parentage, education and life. but already borrow had taken ford's hint and was thinking of an autobiography. by the end of he was suggesting a book on his early life, studies and adventures, gypsies, boxers, philosophers; and he afterwards announced that "lavengro" was planned and the characters sketched in and . he saw himself as a public figure that had to be treated heroically. read, for example, his preface to the second edition of "the zincali," dated march , . there he tells of his astonishment at the success of "the zincali," and of john murray bidding him not to think too much of the book but to try again and avoid "gypsy poetry, dry laws, and compilations from dull spanish authors." "borromeo," he makes murray say to him, "borromeo, don't believe all you hear, nor think that you have accomplished anything so very extraordinary. . . ." and so, he says, he sat down and began "the bible in spain." he proceeds to make a picture of himself amidst a landscape by some raving titanic painter's hand: "at first," he says, "i proceeded slowly,--sickness was in the land and the face of nature was overcast,--heavy rain-clouds swam in the heavens,--the blast howled amid the pines which nearly surround my lonely dwelling, and the waters of the lake which lies before it, so quiet in general and tranquil, were fearfully agitated. 'bring lights hither, o hayim ben attar, son of the miracle!' and the jew of fez brought in the lights, for though it was midday i could scarcely see in the little room where i was writing. . . . "a dreary summer and autumn passed by, and were succeeded by as gloomy a winter. i still proceeded with 'the bible in spain.' the winter passed and spring came with cold dry winds and occasional sunshine, whereupon i arose, shouted, and mounting my horse, even sidi habismilk, i scoured all the surrounding district, and thought but little of 'the bible in spain.' "so i rode about the country, over the heaths, and through the green lanes of my native land, occasionally visiting friends at a distance, and sometimes, for variety's sake, i staid at home and amused myself by catching huge pike, which lie perdue in certain deep ponds skirted with lofty reeds, upon my land, and to which there is a communication from the lagoon by a deep and narrow watercourse.--i had almost forgotten 'the bible in spain.' "then came the summer with much heat and sunshine, and then i would lie for hours in the sun and recall the sunny days i had spent in andalusia, and my thoughts were continually reverting to spain, and at last i remembered that 'the bible in spain' was still unfinished; whereupon i arose and said: this loitering profiteth nothing,--and i hastened to my summer-house by the side of the lake, and there i thought and wrote, and every day i repaired to the same place, and thought and wrote until i had finished 'the bible in spain.' "and at the proper season 'the bible in spain' was given to the world; and the world, both learned and unlearned, was delighted with 'the bible in spain,' and the highest authority said, 'this is a much better book than the gypsies;' and the next great authority said, 'something betwixt le sage and bunyan.' 'a far more entertaining work than don quixote,' exclaimed a literary lady. 'another gil blas,' said the cleverest writer in europe. 'yes,' exclaimed the cool sensible spectator, 'a gil blas _in water colours_.' "a _gil blas_ in water colours"--that, he says himself, pleased him better than all the rest. he liked to think that out of his adventures in distributing bibles in spain, out of letters describing his work to his employers, the bible society, he had made a narrative to be compared with the fictitious life and adventures of that gentle spanish rogue, gil blas of santillana. no wonder that he saw himself a public figure to be treated reverently, nay! heroically. and so when he comes to consider somebody's suggestion that the gypsies are of jewish origin, he relates a "little adventure" of his own, bringing in mr. petulengro and the jewish servant whom he had brought back with him after his last visit to spain. he mounts the heroic figure upon an heroic horse: "so it came to pass," he says, "that one day i was scampering over a heath, at some distance from my present home: i was mounted upon the good horse sidi habismilk, and the jew of fez, swifter than the wind, ran by the side of the good horse habismilk, when what should i see at a corner of the heath but the encampment of certain friends of mine; and the chief of that camp, even mr. petulengro, stood before the encampment, and his adopted daughter, miss pinfold, stood beside him. "_myself_.--'kosko divvus, { a} mr. petulengro! i am glad to see you: how are you getting on?' "_mr. petulengro_.--'how am i getting on? as well as i can. what will you have for that nokengro?' { b} "thereupon i dismounted, and delivering the reins of the good horse to miss pinfold, i took the jew of fez, even hayim ben attar, by the hand, and went up to mr. petulengro, exclaiming, 'sure ye are two brothers.' anon the gypsy passed his hand over the jew's face, and stared him in the eyes: then turning to me, he said, 'we are not dui palor; { c} this man is no roman; i believe him to be a jew; he has the face of one; besides if he were a rom, even from jericho, he could rokra a few words in rommany.'" still more important than this equestrian figure of borrow on sidi habismilk is the note on "the english dialect of the rommany" hidden away at the end of the second edition of "the zincali." "'tachipen if i jaw 'doi, i can lel a bit of tan to hatch: n'etist i shan't puch kekomi wafu gorgies.' "the above sentence, dear reader, i heard from the mouth of mr. petulengro, the last time that he did me the honour to visit me at my poor house, which was the day after mol-divvus, { a} : he stayed with me during the greatest part of the morning, discoursing on the affairs of egypt, the aspect of which, he assured me, was becoming daily worse and worse. 'there is no living for the poor people, brother,' said he, 'the chokengres (police) pursue us from place to place, and the gorgios are become either so poor or miserly, that they grudge our cattle a bite of grass by the way side, and ourselves a yard of ground to light a fire upon. unless times alter, brother, and of that i see no probability, unless you are made either poknees or mecralliskoe geiro (justice of the peace or prime minister), i am afraid the poor persons will have to give up wandering altogether, and then what will become of them? "'however, brother,' he continued, in a more cheerful tone: 'i am no hindity mush, { b} as you well know. i suppose you have not forgot how, fifteen years ago, when you made horse-shoes in the little dingle by the side of the great north road, i lent you fifty cottors { c} to purchase the wonderful trotting cob of the innkeeper with the green newmarket coat, which three days after you sold for two hundred. "'well, brother, if you had wanted the two hundred, instead of the fifty, i could have lent them to you, and would have done so, for i knew you would not be long pazorrhus to me. i am no hindity mush, brother, no irishman; i laid out the other day twenty pounds, in buying ruponoe peamengries; { a} and in the chong-gav, { b} have a house of my own with a yard behind it. "'_and_, _forsooth_, _if i go thither_, _i can choose a place to light a fire upon_, _and shall have no necessity to ask leave of these here gentiles_.' "well, dear reader, this last is the translation of the gypsy sentence which heads the chapter, and which is a very characteristic specimen of the general way of speaking of the english gypsies." here be mysteries. the author of "the bible in spain" is not only taken for a gypsy, but once upon a time made horse-shoes in a dingle beside the great north road and trafficked in horses. when borrow told john murray of the christmas meeting with ambrose smith, whom he now called "the gypsy king," he said he was dressed in "true regal fashion." on the last day of that year he told murray that he often meditated on his "life" and was arranging scenes. that reminder about the dingle and the wonderful trotting cob, and the christmas wine, was stirring his brain. in two months time he had begun to write his "life." he got back from the bible society the letters written to them when he was their representative in russia, and these he hoped to use as he had already used those written in spain. ford encouraged him, saying: "truth is great and always pleases. never mind nimminy-pimminy people thinking subjects _low_. things are low in manner of handling." in the midsummer of borrow told murray that he was getting on--"some parts are very wild and strange," others are full of "useful information." in another place he called the pictures in it rembrandts interspersed with claudes. at first the book was to have been "my life, a drama, by george borrow"; at the end of the year it was "lavengro, a biography," and also "my life." he was writing slowly "to please himself." later on he called it a biography "in the robinson crusoe style." nearly three years passed since that meeting with mr. petulengro, and still the book was not ready. ford had been pressing him to lift a corner of the curtain which he had gradually let fall over the seven years of his life preceding his work for the bible society, but he made no promise. he was bent on putting in nothing but his best work, and avoiding haste. in july, , murray announced, among his "new works in preparation," "lavengro, an autobiography, by george borrow." the first volume went to press in the autumn, and there was another announcement of "lavengro, an autobiography," followed by one of "life, a drama." yet again in the book was announced as "lavengro, an autobiography," though the first volume already bore the title, "life, a drama." in publication was still delayed by borrow's ill health and his reluctance to finish and have done with the book. it was still announced as "lavengro, an autobiography." but at the end of the year it was "lavengro: the scholar--the gypsy--the priest," and with that title it appeared early in . borrow was then forty-six years old, and the third volume of his book left him still in the dingle beside the great north road, when he was, according to the conversation with mr. petulengro, a young man of twenty-one. {picture: east dereham church, norfolk. photo: h. t. cave, east dereham: page .jpg} chapter iii--presenting the truth "life, a drama," was to have been published in , and proof sheets with this name and date on the title page were lately in my hands: as far as page the left hand page heading is "a dramatic history," which is there crossed out and "life, a drama" thenceforward substituted. borrow's corrections are worth the attention of anyone who cares for men and books. "lavengro" now opens with the sentence: "on an evening of july, in the year --, at east d---, a beautiful little town in a certain district of east anglia, i first saw the light." the proof shows that borrow preferred "a certain district of east anglia" to "the western division of norfolk." here the added shade of indefiniteness can hardly seem valuable to any but the author himself. in another place he prefers (chapter xiii.) the vague "one of the most glorious of homer's rhapsodies" to "the enchantments of canidia, the masterpiece of the prince of roman poets." in the second chapter he describes how, near pett, in sussex, as a child less than three years old, he took up a viper without being injured or even resisted, amid the alarms of his mother and elder brother. after this description he comments: "it is my firm belief that certain individuals possess an inherent power, or fascination, over certain creatures, otherwise i should be unable to account for many feats which i have witnessed, and, indeed, borne a share in, connected with the taming of brutes and reptiles." this was in the proof preceded by a passage at first modified and then cut out, reading thus: "in some parts of the world and more particularly in india there are people who devote themselves to the pursuit and taming of serpents. had i been born in those regions i perhaps should have been what is termed a snake charmer. that i had a genius for the profession, as probably all have who follow it, i gave decided proof of the above instance as in others which i shall have occasion subsequently to relate." this he cut out presumably because it was too "informing" and too little "wild and strange." a little later in the same chapter he describes how, before he was four years old, near hythe, in kent, he saw in a penthouse against an old village church, "skulls of the old danes": "'long ago' (said the sexton, with borrow's aid), 'long ago they came pirating into these parts: and then there chanced a mighty shipwreck, for god was angry with them, and he sunk them; and their skulls, as they came ashore, were placed here as a memorial. there were many more when i was young, but now they are fast disappearing. some of them must have belonged to strange fellows, madam. only see that one; why, the two young gentry can scarcely lift it!' and, indeed, my brother and myself had entered the golgotha, and commenced handling these grim relics of mortality. one enormous skull, lying in a corner, had fixed our attention, and we had drawn it forth. spirit of eld, what a skull was yon! "i still seem to see it, the huge grim thing; many of the others were large, strikingly so, and appeared fully to justify the old man's conclusion that their owners must have been strange fellows; but compared with this mighty mass of bone they looked small and diminutive, like those of pigmies; it must have belonged to a giant, one of those red-haired warriors of whose strength and stature such wondrous tales are told in the ancient chronicles of the north, and whose grave-hills, when ransacked, occasionally reveal secrets which fill the minds of puny moderns with astonishment and awe. reader, have you ever pored days and nights over the pages of snorro? probably not, for he wrote in a language which few of the present day understand, and few would be tempted to read him tamed down by latin dragomans. a brave old book is that of snorro, containing the histories and adventures of old northern kings and champions, who seemed to have been quite different men, if we may judge from the feats which they performed, from those of these days. one of the best of his histories is that which describes the life of harald haardraade, who, after manifold adventures by land and sea, now a pirate, now a mercenary of the greek emperor, became king of norway, and eventually perished at the battle of stanford bridge, whilst engaged in a gallant onslaught upon england. now, i have often thought that the old kemp, whose mouldering skull in the golgotha at hythe my brother and myself could scarcely lift, must have resembled in one respect at least this harald, whom snorro describes as a great and wise ruler and a determined leader, dangerous in battle, of fair presence, and measuring in height just _five ells_, neither more nor less." of this incident he says he need offer no apology for relating it "as it subsequently exercised considerable influence over his pursuits," _i.e._, his study of danish literature; but in the proof he added also that the incident, "perhaps more than anything else, tended to bring my imaginative powers into action"--this he cut out, though the skulls may have impressed him as the skeleton disinterred by a horse impressed richard jefferies and haunted him in his "gamekeeper," "meadow thoughts," and elsewhere. sometimes he modified a showy phrase, and "when i became ambitious of the title of lavengro and strove to deserve it" was cut down to "when i became a student." when he wrote of cowper in the third chapter he said, to justify cowper's melancholy, that "providence, whose ways are not our ways, interposed, and with the withering blasts of misery nipped that which otherwise might have terminated in fruit, noxious and lamentable"; but he substituted a mere "perhaps" for the words about providence. in the description of young jasper he changed his "short arms like" his father, into "long arms unlike." in the fourteenth chapter borrow describes his father's retirement from the army after waterloo, and his settling down at norwich, so poor as to be anxious for his children's future. he speaks of poor officers who "had slight influence with the great who gave themselves very little trouble either about them or their families." originally he went on thus, but cut out the words from the proof: "yet i have reason for concluding that they were not altogether overlooked by a certain power still higher than even the aristocracy of england and with yet more extensive influence in the affairs of the world. i allude to providence, which, it is said, never forsakes those who trust in it, as i suppose these old soldiers did, for i have known many instances in which their children have contrived to make their way gallantly in the world, unaided by the patronage of the great, whilst others who were possessed of it were most miserably shipwrecked, being suddenly overset by some unexpected squall, against which it could avail them nothing." this change is a relief to the style. the next which i shall quote is something more than that. it shows borrow constructing the conversation of his father and mother when they were considering his prospects at the age of twelve. his father was complaining of the boy's gypsy look, and of his ways and manners, and of the strange company he kept in ireland--"people of evil report, of whom terrible things were said--horse- witches and the like." his mother made the excuse: "but he thinks of other things now." "other languages, you mean," said his father. but in the proof his mother adds to her speech, "he is no longer in ireland," and the father takes her up with, "so much the better for him; yet should he ever fall into evil practices, i shall always lay it to the account of that melancholy sojourn in ireland and the acquaintances he formed there." instead of putting into his friend, the anglo-germanist williams taylor's mouth, the opinion "that as we are aware that others frequently misinterpret us, we are equally liable to fall into the same error with respect to them," he alters it to the very different one, "that there is always some eye upon us; and that it is impossible to keep anything we do from the world, as it will assuredly be divulged by somebody as soon as it is his interest to do so." in the twenty-fourth chapter borrow makes thurtell, the friend of bruisers, hint, with unconscious tragic irony, at his famous end--by dying upon the gallows for the murder of mr. william weare. he tells the magistrate whom he has asked to lend him a piece of land for a prize-fight that his own name is no matter. "however," he continues, "a time may come--we are not yet buried--whensoever my hour arrives, i hope i shall prove myself equal to my destiny, however high-- "like bird that's bred amongst the helicons." in the original thurtell's quotation was: "no poor unminded outlaw sneaking home." this chapter now ends with the magistrate's question to young borrow about this man: "what is his name?" in the manuscript borrow answered, "john thurtell." the proof had, "john . . ." borrow hesitated, and in the margin, having crossed out "john," he put the initial "j" as a substitute, but finally crossed that out also. he was afraid of names which other people might know and regard in a different way. thus in the same proof he altered "the philologist scaliger" to "a certain philologist": thus, too, he would not write down the name of dereham, but kept on calling it "pretty d---"; and when he had to refer to cowper as buried in dereham church he spoke of the poet, not by name, but as "england's sweetest and most pious bard." {picture: page of "lavengro," showing borrow's corrections. (photographed from the author's proof copy, by kind permission of mr. kyllmann and mr. thos. seccombe.) photo: w. j. roberts: page .jpg} chapter iv--what is truth? these changes in the proof of what was afterwards called "lavengro" were, it need hardly be said, made in order to bring the words nearer to a representation of the idea in borrow's brain, and nearer to a perfect harmony with one another. take the case of jasper petulengro's arm. borrow knew the man ambrose smith well enough to know whether he had a long or a short arm: for did not jasper say to him when he was dismal, "we'll now go to the tents and put on the gloves, and i'll try to make you feel what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!" possibly he had a short arm like his father, but in reading the proof it must somehow have seemed to borrow that his jasper petulengro--founded on ambrose smith and at many points resembling him--ought to have a long arm. the short arm was true to "the facts"; the long arm was more impressive and was truer to the created character, which was more important. it was hardly these little things that kept borrow working at "lavengro" for nearly half of his fourth decade and a full half of his fifth. but these little things were part of the great difficulty of making an harmonious whole by changing, cutting out and inserting. when ford and john murray's reader asked him for his life they probably meant a plain statement of a few "important facts," such facts as there could hardly be two opinions about, such facts as fill the ordinary biography or "who's who." borrow knew well enough that these facts either produce no effect in the reader's mind or they produce one effect here and a different one there, since the dullest mind cannot blankly receive a dead statement without some effort to give it life. borrow was not going to commit himself to incontrovertible statements such as are or might be made to a life insurance company. he had no command of a tombstone style and would not have himself circumscribed with full christian name, date of birth, etc., as a sexton or parish clerk might have done for him. twenty years later indeed--in --he did write such an account of himself to be printed as part of an appendix to a history of his old school at norwich. it is full of dates, but they are often inaccurate, and the years to he fills with "a life of roving adventures." he cannot refrain from calling himself a great rider, walker and swimmer, or from telling the story of how he walked from norwich to london--he calls it london to norwich--in twenty-seven hours. but in he could rely on "lavengro" and "the romany rye"; he was an author at the end of his career, and he had written himself down to the best of his genius. the case was different in . he saw himself as a man variously and mysteriously alive, very different from every other man and especially from certain kinds of man. when you look at a larch wood with a floor of fern in october at the end of twilight, you are not content to have that wood described as so many hundred poles growing on three acres of land, the property of a manufacturer of gin. still less was borrow content to sit down at oulton, while the blast howled amid the pines which nearly surround his lonely dwelling, and answer the genial ford's questions one by one: "what countries have you been in? what languages do you understand?" and so on. ford probably divined a book as substantial and well-furnished with milestones as "the bible in spain," and he cheerfully told borrow to make the broth "thick and slab." ford, in fact, doubled the difficulty. not only did borrow feel that his book must create a living soul, but the soul must be heroic to meet the expectations of ford and the public. the equestrian group had been easy enough--himself mounted on sidi habismilk, with the swift jew and the gypsy at his side--but the life of a man was a different matter. nor was the task eased by his exceptional memory. he claimed, as has been seen, to remember the look of the viper seen in his third year. later, in "lavengro," he meets a tinker and buys his stock-in-trade to set himself up with. the tinker tries to put him off by tales of the blazing tinman who has driven him from his beat. borrow answers that he can manage the tinman one way or other, saying, "i know all kinds of strange words and names, and, as i told you before, i sometimes hit people when they put me out." at last the tinker consents to sell his pony and things on one condition. "tell me what's my name," he says; "if you can't, may i--." borrow answers: "don't swear, it's a bad habit, neither pleasant nor profitable. your name is slingsby--jack slingsby. there, don't stare, there's nothing in my telling you your name: i've been in these parts before, at least not very far from here. ten years ago, when i was little more than a child, i was about twenty miles from here in a post chaise, at the door of an inn, and as i looked from the window of the chaise, i saw you standing by a gutter, with a big tin ladle in your hand, and somebody called you jack slingsby. i never forget anything i hear or see; i can't, i wish i could. so there's nothing strange in my knowing your name; indeed there's nothing strange in anything, provided you examine it to the bottom. now what am i to give you for the things?" (i once heard a gypsy give a similar and equal display of memory.) dr. knapp has corroborated several details of "lavengro" which confirm borrow's opinion of his memory. hearing the author whom he met on his walk beyond salisbury, speak of the "wine of , the comet year," borrow said that he remembered being in the market-place of dereham, looking at that comet. { } dr knapp first makes sure exactly when borrow was at dereham in and then that there was a comet visible during that time. he proves also from newspapers of that the fight, in the twenty sixth chapter of "lavengro," ended in a thunderstorm like that described by borrow and used by petulengro to forecast the violent end of thurtell. now a brute memory like that, which cannot be gainsaid, is not an entirely good servant to a man who will not put down everything he can, like a boy at an examination. the ordinary man probably recalls all that is of importance in his past life, though he may not like to think so, but a man with a memory like borrow's or with a supply of diaries like sir mountstuart grant duff's may well ask, "what is truth?" as borrow often did. the facts may convey a false impression which an omission or a positive "lie" may correct. {picture: a page from the author's proof copy of "lavengro," showing borrow's significant corrections. (photographed by kind permission of mr. kyllmann and mr. thos. seccombe.) photo: w. j. roberts: page .jpg} just at first, as has been seen, a month after his christmas wine with mr petulengro, borrow saw his life as a drama, perhaps as a melodrama, full of gypsies, jockeys and horses, wild men of many lands and several murderers. "capital subject," he repeated. that was when he saw himself as an adventurer and europe craning its neck to keep him in sight. but he knew well, and after the first flush he remembered, that he was not merely a robust walker, rider and philologist. when he was only eighteen he was continually asking himself "what is truth?" "i had," he says, "involved myself imperceptibly in a dreary labyrinth of doubt, and, whichever way i turned, no reasonable prospect of extricating myself appeared. the means by which i had brought myself into this situation may be very briefly told; i had inquired into many matters, in order that i might become wise, and i had read and pondered over the words of the wise, so called, till i had made myself master of the sum of human wisdom; namely, that everything is enigmatical and that man is an enigma to himself; thence the cry of 'what is truth?' i had ceased to believe in the truth of that in which i had hitherto trusted, and yet could find nothing in which i could put any fixed or deliberate belief. i was, indeed, in a labyrinth! in what did i not doubt? with respect to crime and virtue i was in doubt; i doubted that the one was blameable and the other praiseworthy. are not all things subjected to the law of necessity? assuredly; time and chance govern all things: yet how can this be? alas! "then there was myself; for what was i born? are not all things born to be forgotten? that's incomprehensible: yet is it not so? those butterflies fall and are forgotten. in what is man better than a butterfly? all then is born to be forgotten. ah! that was a pang indeed; 'tis at such a moment that a man wishes to die. the wise king of jerusalem, who sat in his shady arbours beside his sunny fishpools, saying so many fine things, wished to die, when he saw that not only all was vanity, but that he himself was vanity. will a time come when all will be forgotten that now is beneath the sun? if so, of what profit is life? . . . "'would i had never been born!' i said to myself; and a thought would occasionally intrude. but was i ever born? is not all that i see a lie--a deceitful phantom? is there a world, and earth, and sky? . . ." if he no longer articulated these doubts he was still not as sure of himself as ford imagined. he was, by the way, seldom sure of his own age, and dr. knapp { } gives four instances of his underestimating it by two and even five years. whatever may be the explanation of this, after three years' work at "lavengro" he "will not be hurried for anyone." he was probably finding that, with no notebooks or letters to help, the work was very different from the writing of "the bible in spain," which was pieced together out of long letters to the bible society, and, moreover, was written within a few years of the events described. the events of his childhood and youth had retired into a perspective that was beyond his control: he would often be tempted to change their perspective, to bring forward some things, to set back others. in any case these things were no longer mere solid material facts. they were living a silent life of spirits within his brain. he took to calling the book his "life" or "autobiography," not "life: a drama." it was advertised as such; but he would not have it. at the last moment he refused to label it an autobiography, because he knew that it was inadequate, and that in any case other men would not understand or would misunderstand it. he must have felt certain that the fair figure of "don jorge," created in "the bible of spain," had been poisoned for most readers by many a passage in "lavengro," like that where he doubted the existence of self and sky and stars, or where he told of the breakdown in his health when he was sixteen and of the gloom that followed: "but how much more quickly does strength desert the human frame than return to it! i had become convalescent, it is true, but my state of feebleness was truly pitiable. i believe it is in that state that the most remarkable feature of human physiology frequently exhibits itself. oh, how dare i mention the dark feeling of mysterious dread which comes over the mind, and which the lamp of reason, though burning bright the while, is unable to dispel! art thou, as leeches say, the concomitant of disease--the result of shattered nerves? nay, rather the principle of woe itself, the fountain head of all sorrow co-existent with man, whose influence he feels when yet unborn, and whose workings he testifies with his earliest cries, when, 'drowned in tears,' he first beholds the light; for, as the sparks fly upward, so is man born to trouble, and woe doth he bring with him into the world, even thyself, dark one, terrible one, causeless, unbegotten, without a father. oh, how frequently dost thou break down the barriers which divide thee from the poor soul of man, and overcast its sunshine with thy gloomy shadow. in the brightest days of prosperity--in the midst of health and wealth--how sentient is the poor human creature of thy neighbourhood! how instinctively aware that the floodgates of horror may be cast open, and the dark stream engulf him for ever and ever! then is it not lawful for man to exclaim, 'better that i had never been born!' fool, for thyself thou wast not born, but to fulfil the inscrutable decrees of thy creator; and how dost thou know that this dark principle is not, after all, thy best friend; that it is not that which tempers the whole mass of thy corruption? it may be, for what thou knowest, the mother of wisdom, and of the great works: it is the dread of the horror of the night that makes the pilgrim hasten on his way. when thou feelest it nigh, let thy safety word be 'onward'; if thou tarry, thou art overwhelmed. courage! build great works--'tis urging thee--it is ever nearest the favourites of god--the fool knows little of it. thou wouldst be joyous, wouldst thou? then be a fool. what great work was ever the result of joy, the puny one? who have been the wise ones, the mighty ones, the conquering ones of this earth? the joyous? i believe not. the fool is happy, or comparatively so--certainly the least sorrowful, but he is still a fool; and whose notes are sweetest, those of the nightingale, or of the silly lark? * * * * * "'what ails you, my child?' said a mother to her son, as he lay on a couch under the influence of the dreadful one; 'what ails you? you seem afraid!' "_boy_.--'and so i am; a dreadful fear is upon me.' "_mother_.--'but of what? there is no one can harm you; of what are you apprehensive?' "_boy_.--'of nothing that i can express; i know not what i am afraid of, but afraid i am.' "_mother_.--'perhaps you see sights and visions; i knew a lady once who was continually thinking that she saw an armed man threaten her, but it was only an imagination, a phantom of the brain.' "_boy_.--'no armed man threatens me; and 'tis not a thing that would cause me any fear. did an armed man threaten me, i would get up and fight him; weak as i am, i would wish for nothing better, for then, perhaps, i should lose this fear; mine is a dread of i know not what, and there the horror lies.' "_mother_.--'your forehead is cool, and your speech collected. do you know where you are?' "_boy_.--'i know where i am, and i see things just as they are; you are beside me, and upon the table there is a book which was written by a florentine; all this i see, and that there is no ground for being afraid. i am, moreover, quite cool, and feel no pain--but, but--' "and then there was a burst of 'gemiti, sospiri ed alti guai.' alas, alas, poor child of clay! as the sparks fly upward, so wast thou born to sorrow--onward!" and if men passed over this as a youthful distemper, rather often recurring, what would they make of his saying that "fame after death is better than the top of fashion in life"? would they not accuse him of entertaining them, as he did his companion and half-sweetheart of the dingle, isopel berners, "with strange dreams of adventure, in which he figures in opaque forests, strangling wild beasts, or discovering and plundering the hordes of dragons; and sometimes . . . other things far more genuine--how he had tamed savage mares, wrestled with satan, and had dealings with ferocious publishers"? he did not simplify the matter by his preface. there he announced that the book was "a dream." he had, he said, endeavoured to describe a dream, partly of adventure, in which will be found copious notices of books and many descriptions of life and manners, some in a very unusual form. a dream containing "copious notices of books"! a dream in three volumes and over a thousand pages! a dream which he had "endeavoured to describe"! from these three words it was necessary to suppose that it was a real dream, not a narrative introduced by the machinery of a dream, like "pilgrim's progress," and "the dream of fair women." and so it was. the book was not an autobiography but a representation of a man's life in the backward dream of memory. he had refused to drag the events of his life out of the spirit land, to turn them into a narrative on the same plane as a newspaper, leaving readers to convert them back again into reality or not, according to their choice or ability. his life seemed to him a dream, not a newspaper obituary, not an equestrian statue on a pedestal in albemarle street opposite john murray's office. the result was that "the long-talked-of autobiography" disappointed those who expected more than a collection of bold picaresque sketches. "it is not," complained the "athenaeum," "an autobiography, even with the licence of fiction;" "the interest of autobiography is lost," and as a work of fiction it is a failure. "fraser's magazine" said that it was "for ever hovering between romance and reality, and the whole tone of the narrative inspires profound distrust. nay, more, it will make us disbelieve the tales in 'the zincali' and 'the bible in spain.'" another critic found "a false dream in the place of reality, a shadowy nothing in the place of that something all who had read 'the bible in spain' craved and hoped for from his pen." his friend, william bodham donne, in "tait's edinburgh magazine," explained how "lavengro" was "not exactly what the public had been expecting." another friend, whitwell elwin, in the "quarterly review," reviewing "lavengro" and its continuation, "the romany rye," not only praised the truth and vividness of the descriptions, but said that "various portions of the history are known to be a faithful narrative of mr. borrow's career, while we ourselves can testify, as to many other parts of his volumes, that nothing can excel the fidelity with which he has described both men and things," and "why under these circumstances he should envelop the question in mystery is more than we can divine. there can be no doubt that the larger part, and possibly the whole, of the work is a narrative of actual occurrences, and just as little that it would gain immensely by a plain avowal of the fact." i have suggested that there were good reasons for not calling the work an autobiography. dr. knapp has shown in his fortieth chapter that the narrative was interrupted to admit lengthy references to much later events for purposes of "occult vengeance"; and that these interruptions helped to cause the delay and to change the title there can be little doubt. borrow was angry at the failure of "lavengro," and in the appendix to "the romany rye" he actually said that he had never called "lavengro" an autobiography and never authorised anyone to call it such. this was not a lie but a somewhat frantic assertion that his critics were mistaken about his "dream." in later years he quietly admitted that "lavengro" gave an account of his early life. yet dr. knapp was not strictly and completely accurate in saying that the first volume of "lavengro" is "strictly autobiographical and authentic as the whole was at first intended to be." he could give no proof that borrow's memory went back to his third year or that he first handled a viper at that time. he could only show that borrow's accounts do not conflict with other accounts of the same matters. when they did conflict, dr. knapp was unduly elated by the discovery. take, for example, the sixteenth chapter of "lavengro," where he describes the horse fair at norwich when he was a boy: "the reader is already aware that i had long since conceived a passion for the equine race, a passion in which circumstances had of late not permitted me to indulge. i had no horses to ride, but i took pleasure in looking at them; and i had already attended more than one of these fairs: the present was lively enough, indeed horse fairs are seldom dull. there was shouting and whooping, neighing and braying; there was galloping and trotting; fellows with highlows and white stockings, and with many a string dangling from the knees of their tight breeches, were running desperately, holding horses by the halter, and in some cases dragging them along; there were long-tailed steeds, and dock-tailed steeds of every degree and breed; there were droves of wild ponies, and long rows of sober cart horses; there were donkeys and even mules: the last rare things to be seen in damp, misty england, for the mule pines in mud and rain, and thrives best with a hot sun above and a burning sand below. there were--oh, the gallant creatures! i hear their neigh upon the wind; there were--goodliest sight of all--certain enormous quadrupeds only seen to perfection in our native isle, led about by dapper grooms, their manes ribanded and their tails curiously clubbed and balled. ha! ha!--how distinctly do they say, ha! ha! "an old man draws nigh, he is mounted on a lean pony, and he leads by the bridle one of these animals; nothing very remarkable about that creature, unless in being smaller than the rest and gentle, which they are not; he is not of the sightliest look; he is almost dun, and over one eye a thick film has gathered. but stay! there _is_ something remarkable about that horse, there is something in his action in which he differs from all the rest: as he advances, the clamour is hushed! all eyes are turned upon him--what looks of interest--of respect--and, what is this? people are taking off their hats--surely not to that steed! yes, verily! men, especially old men, are taking off their hats to that one-eyed steed, and i hear more than one deep-drawn ah! "'what horse is that?' said i to a very old fellow, the counterpart of the old man on the pony, save that the last wore a faded suit of velveteen, and this one was dressed in a white frock. "'the best in mother england,' said the very old man, taking a knobbed stick from his mouth, and looking me in the face, at first carelessly, but presently with something like interest; 'he is old like myself, but can still trot his twenty miles an hour. you won't live long, my swain; tall and overgrown ones like thee never does; yet, if you should chance to reach my years, you may boast to thy great grand boys, thou hast seen marshland shales.' "amain i did for the horse what i would neither do for earl or baron, doffed my hat; yes! i doffed my hat to the wondrous horse, the fast trotter, the best in mother england; and i, too, drew a deep ah! and repeated the words of the old fellows around. 'such a horse as this we shall never see again, a pity that he is so old.'" but dr. knapp informs us that the well-known trotting stallion, marshland shales, was not offered for sale by auction until , when he was twenty-five years old, and ten years after the date implied in "lavengro." and what is more, dr. knapp concludes that borrow must have been in norwich in , on the fair day, april . chapter v--his predecessors i do not wish to make borrow out a suffering innocent in the hands of that learned heavy-weight and wag, dr. knapp. borrow was a writing man; he was sometimes a friend of jockeys, of gypsies and of pugilists, but he was always a writing man; and the writer who is delighted to have his travels in spain compared with the rogue romance, "gil blas," is no innocent. photography, it must be remembered, was not invented. it was not in those days thought possible to get life on to the paper by copying it with ink. words could not be the equivalents of acts. life itself is fleeting, but words remain and are put to our account. every action, it is true, is as old as man and never perishes without an heir. but so are words as old as man, and they are conservative and stern in their treatment of transitory life. every action seems new and unique to the doer, but how rarely does it seem so when it is recorded in words, how rarely perhaps it is possible for it to seem so. a new form of literature cannot be invented to match the most grand or most lovely life. and fortunately; for if it could, one more proof of the ancient lineage of our life would have been lost. borrow did not sacrifice the proof. he had read many books in many languages, and he had a strong taste. he liked "gil blas," which is a simple chain of various and surprising adventures. he liked the lives of criminals in the "newgate lives and trials" (or rather "celebrated trials," ), which he compiled for a publisher in his youth. "what struck me most," he said, "with respect to these lives was the art which the writers, whoever they were, possessed of telling a plain story. it is no easy thing to tell a story plainly and distinctly by mouth; but to tell one on paper is difficult indeed, so many snares lie in the way. people are afraid to put down what is common on paper, they seek to embellish their narrative, as they think, by philosophic speculations and reflections; they are anxious to shine, and people who are anxious to shine, can never tell a plain story. 'so i went with them to a music booth, where they made me almost drunk with gin, and began to talk their flash language, which i did not understand,' says, or is made to say, henry simms, executed at tyburn some seventy years before the time of which i am speaking. i have always looked upon this sentence as a masterpiece of the narrative style, it is so concise and yet so very clear." borrow read bunyan, sterne and smollett: he liked byron's "childe harold" and his "ode to napoleon bonaparte";--he liked that portrait with all europe and all history for a background. above all, he read defoe, and in the third chapter of "lavengro" he has described his first sight of "robinson crusoe" as a little child: "the first object on which my eyes rested was a picture; it was exceedingly well executed, at least the scene which it represented made a vivid impression upon me, which would hardly have been the case had the artist not been faithful to nature. a wild scene it was--a heavy sea and rocky shore, with mountains in the background, above which the moon was peering. not far from the shore, upon the water, was a boat with two figures in it, one of which stood at the bow, pointing with what i knew to be a gun at a dreadful shape in the water; fire was flashing from the muzzle of the gun, and the monster appeared to be transfixed. i almost thought i heard its cry. i remained motionless, gazing upon the picture, scarcely daring to draw my breath, lest the new and wondrous world should vanish of which i had now obtained a glimpse. 'who are those people, and what could have brought them into that strange situation?' i asked myself; and now the seed of curiosity, which had so long lain dormant, began to expand, and i vowed to myself to become speedily acquainted with the whole history of the people in the boat. after looking on the picture till every mark and line in it were familiar to me, i turned over various leaves till i came to another engraving; a new source of wonder--a low sandy beach on which the furious sea was breaking in mountain-like billows; cloud and rack deformed the firmament, which wore a dull and leaden-like hue; gulls and other aquatic fowls were toppling upon the blast, or skimming over the tops of the maddening waves--'mercy upon him! he must be drowned!' i exclaimed, as my eyes fell upon a poor wretch who appeared to be striving to reach the shore; he was upon his legs, but was evidently half smothered with the brine; high above his head curled a horrible billow, as if to engulf him for ever. 'he must be drowned! he must be drowned!' i almost shrieked, and dropped the book. i soon snatched it up again, and now my eye lighted on a third picture; again a shore, but what a sweet and lovely one, and how i wished to be treading it; there were beautiful shells lying on the smooth white sand, some were empty like those i had occasionally seen on marble mantelpieces, but out of others peered the heads and bodies of wondrous crayfish; a wood of thick green trees skirted the beach and partly shaded it from the rays of the sun, which shone hot above, while blue waves slightly crested with foam were gently curling against it; there was a human figure upon the beach, wild and uncouth, clad in the skins of animals, with a huge cap on his head, a hatchet at his girdle, and in his hand a gun; his feet and legs were bare; he stood in an attitude of horror and surprise; his body was bent far back, and his eyes, which seemed starting out of his head, were fixed upon a mark on the sand--a large distinct mark--a human footprint! "reader, is it necessary to name the book which now stood open in my hand, and whose very prints, feeble expounders of its wondrous lines, had produced within me emotions strange and novel? scarcely, for it was a book which has exerted over the minds of englishmen an influence certainly greater than any other of modern times, which has been in most people's hands, and with the contents of which even those who cannot read are to a certain extent acquainted; a book from which the most luxuriant and fertile of our modern prose writers have drunk inspiration; a book, moreover, to which, from the hardy deeds which it narrates, and the spirit of strange and romantic enterprise which it tends to awaken, england owes many of her astonishing discoveries both by sea and land, and no inconsiderable part of her naval glory. "hail to thee, spirit of de foe! what does not my own poor self owe to thee? england has better bards than either greece or rome, yet i could spare them easier far than de foe, 'unabashed de foe,' as the hunchbacked rhymer styled him." it was in this manner, he declares, that he "first took to the paths of knowledge," and when he began his own "autobiography" he must have well remembered the opening of "robinson crusoe":--"i was born in the year , in the city of york, of a good family, though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of bremen, named kreutznaer, who first settled at hull," though borrow himself would have written it: "i was born in the year ---, in the city of y---, of a good family, though not of that country, my father being a foreigner of bremen, named kruschen, who first settled at h---." probably he remembered also that other fictitious autobiography of defoe's, "the adventures of captain singleton," of the child who was stolen and disposed of to a gypsy and lived with his good gypsy mother until she happened to be hanged, a little too soon for him to be "perfected in the strolling trade." defoe had told him long before richard ford that he need not be afraid of being low. he could always give the same excuse as defoe in "moll flanders"--"as the best use is to be made even of the worst story, the moral, 'tis hoped, will keep the reader serious, even where the story might incline him to be otherwise." in fact, borrow did afterwards claim that his book set forth in as striking a way as any "the kindness and providence of god." even so, de quincey suggested as an excuse in his "confessions" the service possibly to be rendered to other opium-eaters. borrow tells us in the twenty-second chapter of "lavengro" how he sought for other books of adventure like "robinson crusoe"--which he will not mention by name!--and how he read many "books of singular power, but of coarse and prurient imagination." one of these, "the english rogue," he describes as a book "written by a remarkable genius." he might have remembered in its preface the author lamenting that, though it was meant for the life of a "witty extravagant," readers would regard it as the author's own life, "and notwithstanding all that hath been said to the contrary many still continue in this belief." he might also have remembered that the apology for portraying so much vice was that the ugliness of it--"her _vizard-mask_ being remov'd"--"cannot but cause in her (_quondam_) adorers, a _loathing_ instead of _loving_." the dirty hero runs away as a boy and on the very first day tires of nuts and blackberries and longs "to taste of the _fleshpots_ again." he sleeps in a barn until he is waked, pursued and caught by gypsies. he agrees to stay with them, and they have a debauch of eating, drinking and fornication, which makes him well content to join the "ragged regiment." they colour his face with walnut juice so that he looks a "true son of an egyptian." hundreds of pages are filled thereafter by tediously dragging in, mostly from other books, joyless and leering adventures of low dishonesty and low lust. another book of the kind which borrow knew was the life of bamfylde moore-carew, born in at a devonshire rectory. he hunted the deer with some of his schoolfellows from tiverton and they played truant for fear of punishment. they fell in with some gypsies feasting and carousing and asked to be allowed to "enlist into their company." the gypsies admitted them after the "requisite ceremonies" and "proper oaths." the philosophy of carew or his historian is worth noticing. he says of the gypsies: "there are perhaps no people so completely happy as they are, or enjoy so great a share of liberty. the king is elective by the whole people, but none are allowed to stand as candidates for that honour but such as have been long in their society, and perfectly studied the nature and institution of it; they must likewise have given repeated proofs of their personal wisdom, courage and capacity; this is better known as they always keep a public record or register of all remarkable (either good or bad) actions performed by any of their society, and they can have no temptation to make choice of any but the most worthy, as their king has no titles or legislative employments to bestow, which might influence or corrupt their judgments. "the laws of these people are few and simple, but most exactly and punctually observed; the fundamental of which is that strong love and mutual regard for each member in particular and for the whole community in general, which is inculcated into them from the earliest infancy. . . . experience has shown them that, by keeping up their nice sense of honour and shame, they are always enabled to keep their community in better order than the most severe corporal punishments have been able to effect in other governments. "but what has still more tended to preserve their happiness is that they know no other use of riches than the enjoyment of them. they know no other use of it than that of promoting mirth and good humour; for which end they generously bring their gains into a common stock, whereby they whose gains are small have an equal enjoyment with those whose profits are larger, excepting only that a mark or ignominy is affixed on those who do not contribute to the common stock proportionately to their abilities and the opportunities they have of gain, and this is the source of their uninterrupted happiness; fully this means they have no griping usurer to grind them, no lordly possessor to trample on them, nor any envyings to torment them; they have no settled habitations, but, like the scythian of old, remove from place to place, as often as their convenience or pleasure requires it, which render their life a perpetual source of the greatest variety. "by what we have said above, and much more that we could add of the happiness of these people and of their peculiar attachment to each other, we may account for what has been matter of much surprise to the friends of our hero, viz., his strong attachment, for the space of about forty years, to this community, and his refusing the large offers that have been made to quit their society." carew himself met with nothing but success in his various impersonations of tom o' bedlam, a rat-catcher, a non-juring clergyman, a shipwrecked quaker, and an aged woman with three orphan grandchildren. he was elected king of the beggars, and lost the dignity only by deliberate abdication. "the restraints of a town not suiting him after the free rambling life he had led, he took a house in the country, and having acquired some property on the decease of a relation, he was in a position to purchase a residence more suited to his taste, and lived for some years a quiet life 'respected best by those who knew him best.'" a very different literary hero of borrow's was william cobbett, in spite of his radical opinions. cobbett was a man who wrote, as it were, with his fist, not the tips of his fingers. when i begin to read him i think at once of a small country town where men talk loudly to one another at a distance or as they walk along in opposite directions, and the voices ring as their heels do on the cobbles. he is not a man of arguments, but of convictions. he is so full of convictions that, though not an indolent man, he has no time for arguments. "on this stiff ground," he says in north wiltshire, "they grow a good many beans and give them to the pigs with whey; which makes excellent pork for the _londoners_; but which must meet with a pretty hungry stomach to swallow it in hampshire." when he was being shouted down at lewes in , and someone moved that he should be put out of the room, he says: "i rose that they might see the man that they had to put out." the hand that holds the bridle holds the pen. the night after he has been hare-hunting--friday, november the sixteenth, , at old hall, in herefordshire--he writes down this note of it: "a whole day most delightfully passed a hare-hunting, with a pretty pack of hounds kept here by messrs. palmer. they put me upon a horse that seemed to have been made on purpose for me, strong, tall, gentle and bold; and that carried me either over or through every thing. i, who am just the weight of a four-bushel sack of good wheat, actually sat on her back from daylight in the morning to dusk (about nine hours) without once setting my foot on the ground. our ground was at orcop, a place about four miles distance from this place. we found a hare in a few minutes after throwing off; and, in the course of the day, we had to find four, and were never more than ten minutes in finding. a steep and naked ridge, lying between two flat valleys, having a mixture of pretty large fields and small woods, formed our ground. the hares crossed the ridge forward and backward, and gave us numerous views and very fine sport. i never rode on such steep ground before; and, really, in going up and down some of the craggy places, where the rain had washed the earth from the rocks, i did think, once or twice of my neck, and how sidmouth would like to see me. as to the _cruelty_, as some pretend, of this sport, that point i have, i think, settled, in one of the chapters of my 'year's residence in america.' as to the expense, a pack, even a full pack of harriers, like this, costs less than two bottles of wine a day with their inseparable concomitants. and as to the _time_ spent, hunting is inseparable from _early rising_; and, with habits of early rising, who ever wanted time for any business?" borrow could not resist this man's plain living and plain thinking, or his sentences that are like acts--like blows or strides. and if he had needed any encouragement in the expression of prejudices, cobbett offered it. the following, from "cottage economy," will serve as an example. it is from a chapter on "brewing":-- "the practice of tea drinking must render the frame feeble and unfit to encounter hard labour or severe weather, while, as i have shown, it deducts from the means of replenishing the belly and covering the back. hence succeeds a softness, an effeminacy, a seeking for the fireside, a lurking in the bed, and, in short, all the characteristics of idleness for which, in his case, real want of strength furnishes an apology. the tea drinking fills the public-house, makes the frequenting of it habitual, corrupts boys as soon as they are able to move from home, and does little less for the girls, to whom the gossip of the teatable is no bad preparatory school for the brothel. at the very least, it teaches them idleness. the everlasting dawdling about with the slops of the tea- tackle gives them a relish for nothing that requires strength and activity. when they go from home, they know how to do nothing that is useful, to brew, to bake, to make butter, to milk, to rear poultry; to do any earthly thing of use they are wholly unqualified. to shut poor young creatures up in manufactories is bad enough; but there at any rate they do something that is useful; whereas the girl that has been brought up merely to boil the teakettle, and to assist in the gossip inseparable from the practice, is a mere consumer of food, a pest to her employer, and a curse to her husband, if any man be so unfortunate as to fix his affections upon her. "but is it in the power of any man, any good labourer who has attained the age of fifty, to look back upon the last thirty years of his life, without cursing the day in which tea was introduced into england? where is there such a man who cannot trace to this cause a very considerable part of all the mortifications and sufferings of his life? when was he ever too late at his labour; when did he ever meet with a frown, with a turning off and with pauperism on that account, without being able to trace it to the teakettle? when reproached with lagging in the morning, the poor wretch tells you that he will make up for it by _working during his breakfast time_! i have heard this a hundred and a hundred times over. he was up time enough; but the teakettle kept him lolling and lounging at home; and now instead of sitting down to a breakfast upon bread, bacon and beer, which is to carry him on to the hour of dinner, he has to force his limbs along under the sweat of feebleness, and at dinner- time to swallow his dry bread, or slake his half-feverish thirst at the pump or the brook. to the wretched teakettle he has to return at night with legs hardly sufficient to maintain him; and then he makes his miserable progress towards that death which he finds ten or fifteen years sooner than he would have found it had he made his wife brew beer instead of making tea. if he now and then gladdens his heart with the drugs of the public-house, some quarrel, some accident, some illness is the probable consequence; to the affray abroad succeeds an affray at home; the mischievous example reaches the children, cramps them or scatters them, and misery for life is the consequence." as cobbett wrote against tea so was borrow to write against the pope. being a reading and a writing man who had set down all his most substantial adventures in earlier books, borrow, says mr. thomas seccombe, had no choice but "to interpret autobiography as 'autobiographiction.'" { } parts of the autobiography, he says, are "as accurate and veracious as john wesley's 'journal,' but the way in which the dingle ingredients" [in the stories of isopel berners, the postillion, and the man in black] "are mingled, and the extent to which lies--damned lies--or facts predominate, will always be a fascinating topic for literary conjecture." it must not be forgotten, however, that borrow never called the published book his autobiography. he did something like what i believe young writers often do; he described events in his own life with modifications for the purpose of concealment in some cases and of embellishment in others. if he had never labelled it an autobiography there would have been no mystery, and the conclusion of readers would be that most of it could not have been invented, but that the postillion's story, for example, is a short story written to embody some facts and some opinions, without any appearance of being the whole truth and nothing but the truth. if borrow made a set of letters to the bible society into a book like "gil blas," he could hardly do less--especially when he had been reminded of the fact--with his remoter adventures; and having taken out dates and names of persons and places he felt free. he produced his view of himself, as de quincey did in his "confessions of an english opium eater." this view was modified by his public reputation, by his too potent memory and the need for selection, by his artistic sense, and by his literary training. so far from suffering by the two elements, if they are to be separated, of fiction and autobiography, "lavengro" and "the romany rye" gain immensely. the autobiographical form--the use of the first person singular--is no mere device to attract an interest and belief as in "captain singleton" and a thousand novels. again and again we are made perfectly certain that the man could not have written otherwise. he is sounding his own depths, and out of mere shyness, at times, uses the transparent amateur trick of pretending that he was writing of someone else. years afterwards, when mr. watts-dunton asked him, "what is the real nature of autobiography?" he answered in questions: "is it a mere record of the incidents of a man's life? or is it a picture of the man himself--his character, his soul?" chapter vi--the biographer's material "lavengro" and "the romany rye" give borrow's character and soul by direct and indirect means. their truth and fiction produce a consistent picture which we feel to be true. dr. knapp has shown, where the facts are accessible, that borrow does not much neglect, mislay or pervert them. but neither dr. knapp nor anyone else has captured facts which would be of any significance had borrow told us nothing himself. some of the anecdotes lap a branch here and there; some disclose a little rotten wood or fungus; others show the might of a great limb, perhaps a knotty protuberance with a grotesque likeness, or the height of the whole; others again are like clumsy arrogant initials carved on the venerable bark. i shall use some of them, but for the most part i shall use borrow's own brush both to portray and to correct. chapter vii--portraits of the artist the five works of borrow's maturity--from "the zincali: or the gypsies of spain," written when he had turned thirty, to "wild wales," written when he had turned fifty--have this in common, and perhaps for their chief quality, that of set purpose and by inevitable accident they reveal borrow, the body and the spirit of the man. together they compose a portrait, if not a small gallery of portraits. of these the most deliberate is the one that emerges from "lavengro" and "the romany rye." in these books, written after he had passed forty, he described the first twenty-two years of his life, without, so far as is known, using any notebooks or other contemporary documents. as i have said before, the literal accuracy of such a description must have been limited by his power and his willingness to see things as they were. in some ways there is no greater stranger to the youth of twenty than the man of forty who was once that youth, and if he overcomes that strangeness it is often by the perilous process of concealing the strangeness and the difference. the result is--or is it an individual misfortune of mine?--that the figure of "lavengro" seems to me, more often than not, and on the whole, to be nearer the age of forty than of twenty. the artist, that is to say, dominates his subject, the tall overgrown youth of twenty-two, as grey as a badger. it is very different in "the bible in spain," where artist and subject are equally matched, and both mature. in "lavengro" there is a roundabout method, a painful poring subtlety and minuteness, a marvellous combination of sterne and defoe, resulting in something very little like any book written by either man: in "the bible in spain" a straightforward, confident, unqualified revelation that seems almost unconsidered. chapter viii--childhood and now for some raw bones of the life of a man who was born in and died in , bones picked white and dry by the winds of thirty, forty, fifty, and a hundred years. thomas borrow, his father, an eighth and youngest son, was born in of a yeoman family long and still settled in cornwall, near liskeard. he worked for some time on his brother's farm. at nineteen he joined the militia and was apprenticed to a maltster, but, having knocked his master down in a free fight at menheniot fair in , disappeared and enlisted as a private in the coldstream guards. he was then a man of fresh complexion and light brown hair, just under five feet eight inches in height. he was a sergeant when he was transferred nine years later to the west norfolk regiment of militia. in he was promoted to the office of adjutant with the rank of captain. in he had married ann perfrement, a tenant farmer's daughter from east dereham, and probably of french protestant descent, whom he had first met when she was playing a minor part as an amateur at east dereham with a company from the theatre royal at norwich. she had, says borrow, dark brilliant eyes, oval face, olive complexion, and grecian forehead. the first child of this marriage, john thomas, was born in . borrow describes this elder brother as a beautiful child of "rosy, angelic face, blue eyes and light chestnut hair," yet of "not exactly an anglo-saxon countenance," having something of "the celtic character, particularly in the fire and vivacity which illumined it." john was his father's favourite. he entered the army and became a lieutenant, but also, and especially after the end of the war, a painter, studying under b. r. haydon and old crome. he went out to mexico in the service of a mining company in , and died there in . george borrow was born in at another station of the regiment, east dereham. he calls himself a gloomy child, a "lover of nooks and retired corners . . . sitting for hours together with my head on my breast . . . conscious of a peculiar heaviness within me, and at times of a strange sensation of fear, which occasionally amounted to horror, and for which i could assign no real cause whatever." a maidservant thought him a little wrong in the head, but a jew pedlar rebuked her for saying so, and said the child had "all the look of one of our people's children," and praised his bright eyes. with the regiment he travelled along the sussex and kent coast during the next four years. they were at pett in , and there he tells us that he first handled a viper, fearless and unharmed. in also they were at hythe, where he saw the skulls of the danes. they were at canterbury in , and near there was the scene of his eating the "green, red, and purple" berries from the hedge and suffering convulsions. they were, says dr. knapp, from the regimental records, never at winchester, but at winchelsea. in and they were back at dereham, which was then the home of eleanor fenn, his "lady bountiful," widow of the editor of the "paston letters," sir john fenn. he had "increased rapidly in size and in strength," but not in mind, and could read only imperfectly until "robinson crusoe" drew him out. he went to church twice on sundays, and never heard god's name without a tremor, "for i now knew that god was an awful and inscrutable being, the maker of all things; that we were his children, and that we, by our sins, had justly offended him; that we were in very great peril from his anger, not so much in this life as in another and far stranger state of being yet to come; that we had a saviour withal to whom it was necessary to look for help: upon this point, however, i was yet very much in the dark, as, indeed, were most of those with whom i was connected. the power and terrors of god were uppermost in my thoughts; they fascinated though they astounded me." {picture: borrow's birth-place, east dereham, norfolk. photo: h. t. cave, east dereham: page .jpg} later in he was at norman cross, in huntingdonshire, and was free to wander alone by whittlesea mere. there he met the old viper-hunter and herbalist, into whose mouth he puts the tale of the king of the vipers. there he met the gypsies. he answered their threats with a viper that had lain hid in his breast; they called him "sapengro, a chap who catches snakes and plays tricks with them." he was sworn brother to jasper, the son, who despised him for being puny. the borrows were at dereham again in , and george went to school "for the acquisition of latin," and learnt the whole of lilly's grammar by heart. other marches of the regiment left him time to wonder at that "stupendous erection, the aqueduct at stockport"--to visit durham and "a capital old inn" there, where he had "a capital dinner off roast durham beef, and a capital glass of ale, which i believe was the cause of my being ever after fond of ale"--so he told the durham miner whom he met on his way to the devil's bridge, in cardiganshire--and to attend school at huddersfield in and at edinburgh in and . he mentions the frequent fights at the high school and the pitched battles between the old and the new town. climbing the castle rock was his favourite diversion, and on one "horrible edge" he came upon david haggart sitting and thinking of william wallace: "and why were ye thinking of him?" borrow says that he asked the lad. "the english hanged him long since, as i have heard say." "i was thinking," he answered, "that i should wish to be like him." "do ye mean," borrow says that he said, "that ye would wish to be hanged?" this youth was a drummer boy in captain borrow's regiment. borrow describes him upsetting the new town champion in one of the bickers. seven years later he was condemned to death at edinburgh, and to earn a little money for his mother he dictated an account of his life to the prison chaplain before he died. it was published in with the title: "the life of david haggart, alias john wilson, alias john morison, alias barney m'coul, alias john m'colgan, alias david o'brien, alias the switcher. written by himself, while under sentence of death." it is worth reading, notable in itself and for its style. he was a gamekeeper's son, and being a merry boy was liberally tipped by sportsmen. yet he ran away from home at the age of ten. one of his first exploits was the stealing of a bantam cock. it belonged to a woman at the back of the new town of edinburgh, says he, and he took a great fancy to it, "for it was a real beauty and i offered to _buy_, but mistress would not _sell_, so i got another cock, and set the two a fighting, and then off with my prize." this is like mr. w. b. yeats' paddy cockfight in "where there is nothing"; he got a fighting cock from a man below mullingar--"the first day i saw him i fastened my eyes on him, he preyed on my mind, and next night if i didn't go back every foot of nine miles to put him in my bag." when he was twelve he got drunk at the leith races and enlisted in the norfolk militia, which had a recruiting party for patriots at the races. "i learned," he says, "to beat the drum very well in the course of three months, and afterwards made considerable progress in blowing the bugle-horn. i liked the red coat and the soldiering well enough for a while, but soon tired. we were too much confined, and there was too little pay for me;" and so he got his discharge. "the restraining influences of military discipline," says dr. knapp, "gradually wore away." he went back to school even, but in vain. he was "never happier in his life" than when he "fingered all this money"-- pounds acquired by theft. he worked at his trade of thieving in many parts of scotland and ireland. as early as he was sentenced to death, but escaped, and, being recognised by a policeman, killed him and got clear away. he served one or two sentences and escaped from another. he escaped a third time, with a friend, after hitting the gaoler in such a manner that he afterwards died. the friend was caught at once, but david ran well--"never did a fox double the hounds in better style"--and got away in woman's clothes. as he was resting in a haystack after his run of ten miles in an hour, he heard a woman ask "if that lad was taken that had broken out of dumfries gaol," and the answer: "no; but the gaoler died last night at ten o'clock." he got arrested in ireland through sheer carelessness, was recognised and taken in irons to dumfries again--and so he died. in and borrow was for a time at the grammar school at norwich, but sailed with the regiment "in the autumn of the year " for ireland. "on the eighth day of our voyage," he says, "we were in sight of ireland. the weather was now calm and serene, the sun shone brightly on the sea and on certain green hills in the distance, on which i descried what at first sight i believed to be two ladies gathering flowers, which, however, on our near approach, proved to be two tall white towers, doubtless built for some purpose or other, though i did not learn for what." he was at "the protestant academy" at clonmel, and "read the latin tongue and the greek letters with a nice old clergyman." from a schoolfellow he learnt something of the irish tongue in exchange for a pack of cards. school, he says, had helped him to cast aside, in a great degree, his unsocial habits and natural reserve, and when he moved to templemore, where there was no school, he roamed about the wild country, "sometimes entering the cabins of the peasantry with a 'god's blessing upon you good people!'" here, as in scotland, he seems to have done as he liked. his father had other things to do than look after the child whom he was later on to upbraid for growing up in a displeasing way. ireland made a strong impression upon the boy, if we may judge from his writing about it when he looked back on those days. he recalls, in "wild wales," hearing the glorious tune of "croppies lie down" in the barrack yard at clonmel. again and again he recalls murtagh, the wild irish boy who taught him irish for a pack of cards. in ireland he learnt to be "a frank rider" without a saddle, and had awakened in him his "passion for the equine race": and here he had his cob shoed by a "fairy smith" who first roused the animal to a frenzy by uttering a strange word "in a sharp pungent tone," and then calmed it by another word "in a voice singularly modified but sweet and almost plaintive." above all there is a mystery which might easily be called celtic about his memories of ireland, due chiefly to something in his own blood, but also to the irish atmosphere which evoked that something in its perfection. after less than a year in ireland the regiment was back at norwich, and war being at an end, the men were mustered out in . {picture: borrow's court, norwich. photo: jarrold & sons, norwich: page .jpg} chapter ix--schooldays the borrows now settled at norwich in what was then king's court and is now borrow's court, off willow lane. george borrow, therefore, again attended the grammar school of norwich. he could then, he says, read greek. his father's dissatisfaction was apparently due to some instinctive antipathy for the child, who had neither his hair nor his eyes, but was "absolutely swarthy, god forgive me! i had almost said like that of a gypsy." as in scotland and ireland, so now at norwich, captain borrow probably let the boy do what he liked. as for mrs. borrow, perhaps she favoured the boy, who took after her in eyes and complexion, if not also in temperament. her influence was of an unconscious kind, strengthening her prenatal influence; unlike her husband, she had no doubt that "providence" would take care of the boy. borrow, at least, thought her like himself. in a suppressed portion of the twentieth chapter of "lavengo" he makes his parents talk together in the garden, and the mother having a story to tell suggests their going in because it is growing dark. the father says that a tale of terror is the better for being told in the dark, and hopes she is not afraid. the mother scoffs at the mention of fear, and yet, she says, she feels a thrill as if something were casting a cold shadow on her. she wonders if this feeling is like the indescribable fear, "which he calls the shadow," which sometimes attacks her younger child. "never mind the child or his shadow," says the father, and bids her go on. and from what follows the mother has evidently told the story before to her son. this dialogue may very well express the contrast between husband and wife and their attitudes towards their younger son. borrow very eloquently addresses his father as "a noble specimen of those strong single-minded englishmen, who, without making a parade either of religion or loyalty, feared god and honoured their king, and were not particularly friendly to the french," and as a pugilist who almost vanquished the famous ben bryan; but he does not conceal the fact that he was "so little to thee that thou understoodst me not." at norwich grammar school borrow had as schoolfellows james martineau and james brooke, afterwards rajah of sarawak. the headmaster was one edward valpy, who thrashed borrow, and there is nothing more to be said. the boy was fond of study but not of school. "for want of something better to do," he taught himself some french and italian, but wished he had a master. a master was found in a french _emigre_, the rev. thomas d'eterville, who gave private lessons to borrow, among others, in french, italian and spanish. his other teachers were an old musket with which he shot bullfinches, blackbirds and linnets, a fishing rod with which he haunted the yare, and the sporting gent, john thurtell, who taught him to box and accustomed him to pugilism. something is known of thurtell apart from borrow. he was the son of a man who was afterwards mayor of norwich. he had been a soldier and he was now in business. he arranged prize fights and boxed himself. he afterwards murdered a man who had dishonestly relieved him of pounds at gambling, and he was executed for the offence at hertford in . the trial was celebrated. it was there that a "respectable" man was defined by a witness as one who "kept a gig." the trial was included in the "celebrated trials and remarkable cases of criminal jurisprudence" which borrow compiled in ; and borrow may have written this description of the accused: "thurtell was dressed in a plum-coloured frock coat, with a drab waistcoat and gilt buttons, and white corded breeches. his neck had a black stock on, which fitted as usual stiffly up to the bottom of the cheek and end of the chin, and which therefore pushed forward the flesh on this part of the face so as to give an additionally sullen weight to the countenance. the lower part of the face was unusually large, muscular and heavy, and appeared to hang like a load to the head, and to make it drop like the mastiff's jowl. the upper lip was long and large, and the mouth had a severe and dogged appearance. his nose was rather small for such a face, but it was not badly shaped; his eyes, too, were small and buried deep under his protruding forehead, so indeed as to defy detection of their colour. the forehead was extremely strong, bony and knotted--and the eyebrows were forcibly marked though irregular--that over the right eye being nearly straight and that on the left turning up to a point so as to give a very painful expression to the whole face. his hair was of a good lightish brown, and not worn after any fashion. his frame was exceedingly well knit and athletic." an eye witness reports that seven hours before his execution, thurtell said: "it is perhaps wrong in my situation, but i own i should like to read pierce egan's account of the great fight yesterday" (meaning that between spring and langan). he slept well through his last night, and said: "i have dreamt many odd things, but i never dreamt anything about _this business_ since i have been in hertford." pierce egan described the trial and execution, and how thurtell bowed in a friendly and dignified manner to someone--"we believe, mr. pierce egan"--in the crowd about the gallows. pierce egan did not mention the sound of his cracking neck, but borrow is reported to have said it was a shame to hang such a man as thurtell: "why, when his neck broke it went off like a pistol." thurtell is the second of borrow's friends who preceded him in fame. during his school days under valpy, borrow met his sworn brother again--the gypsy petulengro. he places this meeting at the tombland fair at norwich, and dr. knapp fixes it, precisely, on march , . according to borrow's account, which is the only one, he was shadowed and then greeted by jasper petulengro. they went together to the gypsy encampment on household heath, and they were together there often again, in spite of the hostility of one gypsy, mrs. herne, to borrow. he says that he went with them to fairs and markets and learnt their language in spite of mrs. herne, so that they called him lav-engro, or word master. the mighty tawno chikno also called him cooro-mengro, because of his mastery with the fist. he was then sixteen. he is said to have stained his face to darken it further, and to have been asked by valpy: "is that jaundice or only dirt, borrow?" chapter x--leaving school with so much liberty borrow desired more. he played truant and, as we have seen, was thrashed for it. he was soon to leave school for good, though there is nothing to prove that he left on account of this escapade, or that the thrashing produced the "symptoms of a rapid decline," with a failure of strength and appetite, which he speaks of in the eighteenth chapter of "lavengro," after the gypsies had gone away. he was almost given over by the physicians, he tells us, but cured by an "ancient female, a kind of doctress," with a decoction of "a bitter root which grows on commons and desolate places." an attack of "the dark feeling of mysterious dread" came with convalescence. but "never during any portion of my life did time flow on more speedily," he says, than during the next two or three years. after some hesitation between church and law, he was articled in to messrs. simpson and rackham, solicitors, of tuck's court, st. giles', norwich, and he lived with simpson in the upper close. as a friend said, the law was an excellent profession for those who never intend to follow it. as borrow himself said, "i have ever loved to be as explicit as possible; on which account, perhaps, i never attained to any proficiency in the law." borrow sat faithfully at his desk and learned a good deal of welsh, danish, hebrew, arabic, gaelic, and armenian, making translations from these languages in prose and verse. in "wild wales" he recalls translating danish poems "over the desk of his ancient master, the gentleman solicitor of east anglia," and learning welsh by reading a welsh "paradise lost" side by side with the original, and by having lessons on sunday afternoons at his father's house from a groom named lloyd. his chief master was william taylor, the "anglo-germanist" of "lavengro." taylor was born in . he studied in germany as a youth and returned to england with a great enthusiasm for german literature. he translated goethe's "iphigenia" ( ), lessing's "nathan" ( ), wieland's "dialogues of the gods," etc. ( ); he published "tales of yore," translated from several languages, and a "letter concerning the two first chapters of luke," in , "english synonyms discriminated" in , and an "historical survey of german poetry," interspersed with various translations, in - . he was bred among unitarians, read hume, voltaire and rousseau, disliked the church, and welcomed the french revolution, though he was no friend to "the cause of national ambition and aggrandisement." he belonged to a revolution society at norwich, and in wrote from paris calling the national assembly "that well-head of philosophical legislation, whose pure streams are now overflowing the fairest country upon earth and will soon be sluiced off into the other realms of europe, fertilising all with the living energy of its waters." in he and his father withdrew their capital from manufacture and william taylor devoted himself to literature. hazlitt speaks of the "style of philosophical criticism which has been the boast of the 'edinburgh review,'" as first introduced into the "monthly review" by taylor in . scott said that taylor's translation of burger's "lenore" made him a poet. sir james mackintosh learned the taylorian language for the sake of the man's "vigour and originality"--"as the hebrew is studied for one book, so is the taylorian by me for one author." {picture: william taylor, of norwich: page .jpg} i will give a few hints at the nature of his speculation. in one of his letters he speaks of stumbling on "the new hypothesis that the nebuchadnezzar of scripture is the cyrus of greek history," and second, that "david, the jew, a favourite of this prince, wrote all those oracles scattered in isaiah, jeremiah and ezekiel relative to his enterprises, for the particularisation of which they afford ample materials." writing of his analysis, in the "critical review," of paulus' commentary on the new testament, he blames the editor for a suppression--"an attempt to prove, from the first and second chapter of luke, that zacharias, who wrote these chapters, meant to hold himself out as the father of jesus christ as well as of john the baptist. the jewish idea of being conceived of the holy ghost did not exclude the idea of human parentage. the rabbinical commentator on genesis explains this." he was called "godless billy taylor," but says he: "when i publish my other pamphlet in proof of the great truth that jesus christ wrote the 'wisdom' and translated the 'ecclesiasticus' from the hebrew of his grandfather hillel, you will be convinced (that i am convinced) that i and i alone am a precise and classical christian; the only man alive who thinks concerning the person and doctrines of christ what he himself thought and taught." his "letter concerning the two first chapters of luke" has the further title, "who was the father of christ?" he calls "not absolutely indefensible" the opinion of the anonymous german author of the "natural history of jesus of nazareth," that joseph of arimathaea was the father of jesus christ. he mentions that "a more recent anonymous theorist, with greater plausibility, imagines that the acolytes employed in the temple of jerusalem were called by the names of angels, michael, raphael, gabriel, accordingly as they were stationed behind, beside, or before, the mercy-seat; and that the gabriel of the temple found means to impose on the innocence of the virgin." "this," he says, "is in many ways compatible with mary's having faithfully given the testimony put together by luke." he gives at great length the arguments in favour of zacharias as the father, and tells josephus' story of mundus and paulina. { } norwich was then "a little academe among provincial cities," as mr. seccombe calls it; he continues: "among the high lights of the illuminated capital of east anglia were the cromes, the opies, john sell cotman, elizabeth fry, dr. william enfield (of speaker fame), and dr. rigby, the father of lady eastlake; but pre- eminent above all reigned the twin cliques of taylors and martineaus, who amalgamated at impressive intervals for purposes of mutual elevation and refinement. "the salon of susannah taylor, the mother of sarah austin, the wife of john taylor, hymn writer and deacon of the seminal chapel, the once noted octagon, in norwich, included in its zenith sir james mackintosh, mrs. barbauld, crabb robinson, the solemn dr. john alderson, amelia opie, henry reeve of edinburgh fame, basil montagu, the sewards, the quaker gurneys of earlham, and dr. frank sayers, whom the german critics compared to gray, who had handled the norse mythology in poetry, to which borrow was introduced by sayer's private biographer, the eminent and aforesaid william taylor" [no relation of _the_ "taylors of norwich"] "whose 'jail-delivery of german studies' the jealous thomas carlyle stigmatized in as the work of a natural-born english philistine." nevertheless, in spite of _the_ taylors and the martineaus, says william taylor's biographer, robberds: "the love of society almost necessarily produces the habit of indulging in the pleasures of the table; and, though he cannot be charged with having carried this to an immoderate excess, still the daily repetition of it had taxed too much the powers of nature and exhausted them before the usual period." taylor died in and was remembered best for his drinking and for his bloated appearance. harriet martineau wrote of him in her autobiography: "william taylor was managed by a regular process, first of feeding, then of wine-bibbing, and immediately after of poking to make him talk: and then came his sayings, devoured by the gentlemen and making ladies and children aghast;--defences of suicide, avowals that snuff alone had rescued him from it: information given as certain that 'god save the king' was sung by jeremiah in the temple of solomon,--that christ was watched on the day of his supposed ascension, and observed to hide himself till dark, and then to make his way down the other side of the mountain; and other such plagiarisms from the german rationalists. when william taylor began with 'i firmly believe,' we knew that something particularly incredible was coming. . . . his virtues as a son were before our eyes when we witnessed his endurance of his father's brutality of temper and manners, and his watchfulness in ministering to the old man's comfort in his infirmities. when we saw, on a sunday morning, william taylor guiding his blind mother to chapel, and getting her there with her shoes as clean as if she had crossed no gutters in those flint- paved streets, we could forgive anything that had shocked or disgusted us at the dinner table. but matters grew worse in his old age, when his habits of intemperance kept him out of the sight of the ladies, and he got round him a set of ignorant and conceited young men, who thought they could set the world right by their destructive tendencies. one of his chief favourites was george borrow. . . ." another of "the harum-scarum young men" taken up by taylor and introduced "into the best society the place afforded," writes harriet martineau, was polidori. borrow was introduced to taylor in by "mousha," the jew who taught him hebrew. taylor "took a great interest" in him and taught him german. "what i tell borrow _once_," he said, "he ever remembers." in taylor wrote to southey, who was an early friend: "a norwich young man is construing with me schiller's 'wilhelm tell,' with the view of translating it for the press. his name is george henry borrow, and he has learnt german with extraordinary rapidity; indeed he has the gift of tongues, and, though not yet eighteen, understands twelve languages--english, welsh, erse, latin, greek, hebrew, german, danish, french, italian, spanish and portuguese; he would like to get into the office for foreign affairs, but does not know how." borrow was at that time a "reserved and solitary" youth, tall, spare, dark complexioned and usually dressed in black, who used to be seen hanging about the close and talking through the railings of his garden to some of the grammar school boys. he was a noticeable youth, and he told his father that a lady had painted him and compared his face to that of alfieri's saul. {picture: tuck's court, norwich. photo: jarrold & sons, norwich: page .jpg} borrow pleased neither his master nor his father by his knowledge of languages, though it was largely acquired in the lawyer's office. "the lad is too independent by half," borrow makes his father say, after painting a filial portrait of the old man, "with locks of silver gray which set off so nobly his fine bold but benevolent face, his faithful consort at his side, and his trusty dog at his feet." nor did the youth please himself. he was languid again, tired even of the welsh poet, ab gwilym. he was anxious about his father, who was low spirited over his elder son's absence in london as a painter, and over his younger son's misconduct and the "strange notions and doctrines"--especially the doctrine that everyone has a right to dispose as he thinks best of that which is his own, even of his life--which he had imbibed from taylor. taylor was "fond of getting hold of young men and, according to orthodox accounts, doing them a deal of harm." { a} his views, says dr. knapp, sank deep "into the organism of his pupil," and "would only be eradicated, if at all, through much suffering." dr. knapp thought that the execution of thurtell ought to have produced a "favourable change in his mode of thinking"--as if prize fighting and murder were not far more common among christians than atheists. but if borrow had never met taylor he would have met someone else, atheist or religious enthusiast, who would have lured him from the straight, smooth, flowery path of orthodoxy; otherwise he might have been a clergyman or he might have been dr. knapp, but he would not have been george borrow. "what is truth?" he asked. "would that i had never been born!" he said to himself. and it was an open air ranter, not a clergyman or unobtrusive godly man, that made him exclaim: "would that my life had been like his--even like that man's." then the gypsy reminded him of "the wind on the heath" and the boxing gloves. when his father asked borrow what he proposed to do, { b} seeing that he was likely to do nothing at law, he had nothing to suggest. southey apparently could not help him to the foreign office. the only opening that can have seemed possible to him was literature. he might, for example, produce a volume of translations like the "specimen of russian poets" ( ) of john bowring, whom he met at taylor's. bowring, a man of twenty-nine in , was the head of a commercial firm and afterwards a friend of borrow and the author of many translations from russian, dutch, spanish, polish, servian, hungarian and bohemian song. he was, as the "old radical" of "the romany rye," borrow's victim in his lifetime, and after his death the victim of dr. knapp as the supposed false friend of his hero. the mud thrown at him had long since dried, and has now been brushed off in a satisfactory manner by mr. r. a. j. walling. { } {picture: tom shelton, jack randall: page .jpg} chapter xi--literature and languages when borrow was in his nineteenth year--according to dr. knapp's estimate--he told his father what he had done: "i have learned welsh, and have translated the songs of ab gwilym, some ten thousand lines, into english rhyme. i have also learnt danish, and have rendered the old book of ballads into english metre. i have learned many other tongues, and have acquired some knowledge even of hebrew and arabic." he read and conversed with william taylor; he read alone in the guildhall of norwich, where the corporation library offered him the books from which he gained "his knowledge of anglo-saxon and early english, welsh or british, northern or scandinavian learning"--so writes dr. knapp, who has seen the "neat young pencilled notes" of borrow in edmund lhuyd's 'archaeologia britannica' and the 'danica literatura antiquissima' of olaus wormius, etc. he tells us himself that he passed entire nights in reading an old danish book, till he was almost blind. in borrow began to publish his translations. taylor introduced him to thomas campbell, then editor of the "new monthly," and to sir richard phillips, editor and proprietor of the "monthly magazine." both editors printed borrow's works. sir richard phillips was particularly flattering: he used borrow's article on "danish poetry and ballad writing" and about six hundred lines of translation from german, danish, swedish and dutch poetry in the first year of the connection, usually with the signature, "george olaus borrow." i will quote only one specimen, his version of goethe's "erl king" ("monthly magazine," december, ): who is it that gallops so late on the wild! o it is the father that carries his child! he presses him close in his circling arm, to save him from cold, and to shield him from harm. "dear baby, what makes ye your countenance hide?" "spur, father, your courser and rowel his side; the erl-king is chasing us over the heath;" "peace, baby, thou seest a vapoury wreath?" "dear boy, come with me, and i'll join in your sport, and show ye the place where the fairies resort; my mother, who dwells in the cool pleasant mine shall clothe thee in garments so fair and so fine." "my father, my father, in mercy attend, and hear what is said by the whispering fiend." "be quiet, be quiet, my dearly-loved child; 'tis naught but the wind as it stirs in the wild." "dear baby, if thou wilt but venture with me, my daughter shall dandle thy form on her knee; my daughter, who dwells where the moon-shadows play, shall lull ye to sleep with the song of the fay." "my father, my father, and seest thou not his sorceress daughter in yonder dark spot?" "i see something truly, thou dear little fool,-- i see the great alders that hang by the pool." "sweet baby, i doat on that beautiful form, and thou shalt ride with me the wings of the storm." "o father, my father, he grapples me now, and already has done me a mischief, i vow." the father was terrified, onward he press'd, and closer he cradled the child to his breast, and reach'd the far cottage, and, wild with alarm, he found that the baby hung dead on his arm! the only criticism that need be passed on this is that any man of some intelligence and patience can hope to do as well: he seldom wrote any verse that was either much better or much worse. at the same time it must not be forgotten that the success of the translation is no measure of the impression made on the young borrow by the legend. his translations from ab gwilym are not interesting either to lovers of that poet or to lovers of borrow: some are preserved in a sort of life in death in the pages of "wild wales." from the german he had also translated f. m. von klinger's "faustus: his life, death and descent into hell." { a} the preface announces that "although scenes of vice and crime are here exhibited, it is merely in the hope that they may serve as beacons, to guide the ignorant and unwary from the shoals on which they might otherwise be wrecked." he insisted, furthermore, that the book contained "the highly useful advice," that everyone should bear their lot in patience and not seek "at the expense of his repose to penetrate into those secrets which the spirit of man, while dressed in the garb of mortality cannot and must not unveil. . . . to the mind of man all is dark; he is an enigma to himself; let him live, therefore, in the hope of once seeing clearly; and happy indeed is he who in that manner passeth his days." from the danish of johannes evald, he translated "the death of balder," a play, into blank verse with consistently feminine endings, as in this speech of thor to balder: { b} how long dost think, degenerate son of odin, unmanly pining for a foolish maiden, and all the weary train of love-sick follies, will move a bosom that is steel'd by virtue? thou dotest! dote and weep, in tears swim ever; but by thy father's arm, by odin's honour, haste, hide thy tears and thee in shades of alder! haste to the still, the peace-accustom'd valley, where lazy herdsmen dance amid the clover. there wet each leaf which soft the west wind kisses, each plant which breathes around voluptuous odours, with tears! there sigh and moan, and the tired peasant shall hear thee, and, behind his ploughshare resting, shall wonder at thy grief, and pity balder! there are lyrics interspersed. the following is sung by three valkyries marching round the cauldron before rota dips the fatal spear that she is to present to hother: in juice of rue and trefoil too; in marrow of bear and blood of trold, be cool'd the spear, threetimes cool'd, when hot from blazes which nastroud raises for valhall's may. st valk. whom it woundeth, it shall slay. nd whom it woundeth, it shall slay. rd whom it woundeth, it shall slay. in he was to publish "romantic ballads," translated from the gaelic, danish, norse, swedish, and german, with eight original pieces. he "hoped shortly" to publish a complete translation of the "kjaempe viser" and of gaelic songs, made by him "some years ago." few of these are valuable or interesting, but i must quote "svend vonved" because borrow himself so often refers to it. the legend haunted him of "that strange melancholy swayne vonved, who roams about the world propounding people riddles; slaying those who cannot answer, and rewarding those who can with golden bracelets." when he was walking alone in wild weather in cornwall he roared it aloud: svend vonved sits in his lonely bower; he strikes his harp with a hand of power; his harp returned a responsive din; then came his mother hurrying in: look out, look out, svend vonved. in came his mother adeline, and who was she, but a queen so fine: "now hark, svend vonved! out must thou ride and wage stout battle with knights of pride." look out, look out, svend vonved. "avenge thy father's untimely end; to me, or another, thy gold harp lend; this moment boune thee, and straight begone! i rede thee, do it, my own dear son." look out, look out, svend vonved. svend vonved binds his sword to his side; he fain will battle with knights of pride. "when may i look for thee once more here? when roast the heifer and spice the beer?" look out, look out, svend vonved. "when stones shall take, of themselves, a flight and ravens' feathers are waxen white, then may'st thou expect svend vonved home: in all my days, i will never come." look out, look out, svend vonved. if we did not know that borrow used these verses as a kind of incantation we should be sorry to have read them. but one of the original pieces in this book is as good in itself as it is interesting. i mean "lines to six-foot-three": a lad, who twenty tongues can talk, and sixty miles a day can walk; drink at a draught a pint of rum, and then be neither sick nor dumb; can tune a song, and make a verse, and deeds of northern kings rehearse; who never will forsake his friend, while he his bony fist can bend; and, though averse to brawl and strife, will fight a dutchman with a knife. o that is just the lad for me, and such is honest six-foot three. a braver being ne'er had birth since god first kneaded man from earth; o, i have come to know him well, as ferroe's blacken'd rocks can tell. who was it did, at suderoe, the deed no other dared to do? who was it, when the boff had burst, and whelm'd me in its womb accurst, who was it dashed amid the wave, with frantic zeal, my life to save? who was it flung the rope to me? o, who, but honest six-foot three! who was it taught my willing tongue, the songs that braga fram'd and sung? who was it op'd to me the store of dark unearthly runic lore, and taught me to beguile my time with denmark's aged and witching rhyme; to rest in thought in elvir shades, and hear the song of fairy maids; or climb the top of dovrefeld, where magic knights their muster held! who was it did all this for me? o, who, but honest six-foot three! wherever fate shall bid me roam, far, far from social joy and home; 'mid burning afric's desert sands; or wild kamschatka's frozen lands; bit by the poison-loaded breeze or blasts which clog with ice the seas; in lowly cot or lordly hall, in beggar's rags or robes of pall, 'mong robber-bands or honest men, in crowded town or forest den, i never will unmindful be of what i owe to six-foot three. that form which moves with giant grace-- that wild, tho' not unhandsome face; that voice which sometimes in its tone is softer than the wood-dove's moan, at others, louder than the storm which beats the side of old cairn gorm; that hand, as white as falling snow, which yet can fell the stoutest foe; and, last of all, that noble heart, which ne'er from honour's path would start, shall never be forgot by me-- so farewell, honest six-foot three. this is already pure borrow, with a vigour excusing if not quite transmuting its rant. he creates a sort of hero in his own image, and it should be read as an introduction and invocation to "lavengro" and "the romany rye." it is one of the few contemporary records of borrow at about the age when he wrote "celebrated trials," made horse-shoes and fought the blazing tinman. so far as i know, it was more than ten years before he wrote anything so good again, and he never wrote anything better in verse, unless it is the song of the "genuine old english gentleman," in the twenty-fourth chapter of "lavengro": "give me the haunch of a buck to eat, and to drink madeira old, and a gentle wife to rest with, and in my arms to fold, an arabic book to study, a norfolk cob to ride, and a house to live in shaded with trees, and near to a river side; with such good things around me, and blessed with good health withal, though i should live for a hundred years, for death i would not call." the only other verse of his which can be remembered for any good reason is this song from the romany, included among the translations from thirty languages and dialects which he published, in , with the title of "targum," and the appropriate motto: "the raven has ascended to the nest of the nightingale." the gypsy verses are as follows: the strength of the ox, the wit of the fox, and the leveret's speed,-- full oft to oppose to their numerous foes, the rommany need. our horses they take, our waggons they break, and ourselves they seize, in their prisons to coop, where we pine and droop, for want of breeze. when the dead swallow the fly shall follow o'er burra-panee, then we will forget the wrongs we have met and forgiving be. it will not be necessary to say anything more about borrow's verses. poetry for him was above all declamatory sentiment or wild narrative, and so he never wrote, and perhaps never cared much for poetry, except ballads and his contemporary byron. he desired, as he said in the note to "romantic ballads," not the merely harmonious but the grand, and he condemned the modern muse for "the violent desire to be smooth and tuneful, forgetting that smoothness and tunefulness are nearly synonymous with tameness and unmeaningness." he once said of keats: "they are attempting to resuscitate him, i believe." he regarded wordsworth as a soporific merely. chapter xii--london early in , and just before george borrow's articles with the solicitors expired, captain borrow died. he left all that he had to his widow, with something for the maintenance and education of the younger son during his minority. borrow had already planned to go to london, to write, to abuse religion and to get himself prosecuted. a month later, the day after the expiration of his articles, before he had quite reached his majority, he went up to london. he was "cast upon the world" in no very hopeful condition. he had lately been laid up again--was it by the "fear" or something else?--by a complaint which destroyed his strength, impaired his understanding and threatened his life, as he wrote to a friend: he was taking mercury for a cure. but he had his translations from ab gwilym and his romantic ballads, and he believed in them. he took them to sir richard phillips, who did not believe in them, and had moreover given up publishing. according to his own account, which is very well known (lavengro, chapter xxx.), sir richard suggested that he should write something in the style of the "dairyman's daughter" instead. men of this generation, fortunate at least in this ignorance, probably think of the "dairyman's daughter" as a fictitious title, like the "oxford review" (which stood for "the universal review") and the "newgate lives" (which should have been "celebrated trials," etc.). but such a book really was published in . it was an "authentic narrative" by a clergyman of the church of england named legh richmond, who thought it "delightful to trace and discover the operations of divine love among the poorer classes of mankind." the book was about the conversion and holy life and early death of a pale, delicate, consumptive dairyman's daughter in the isle of wight. it became famous, was translated into many languages, and was reprinted by some misguided or malevolent man not long ago. i will give a specimen of the book which the writer of "six-foot- three" was asked to imitate: "travellers, as they pass through the country, usually stop to inquire whose are the splendid mansions which they discover among the woods and plains around them. the families, titles, fortune, or character of the respective owners, engage much attention. . . . in the meantime, the lowly cottage of the poor husbandman is passed by as scarcely deserving of notice. yet, perchance, such a cottage may often contain a treasure of infinitely more value than the sumptuous palace of the rich man; even "the pearl of great price." if this be set in the heart of the poor cottager, it proves a jewel of unspeakable value, and will shine among the brightest ornaments of the redeemer's crown, in that day when he maketh up his "jewels." {picture: sir richard phillips. (from the painting by james saxon in the national portrait gallery.) photo: emery walker: page .jpg} "hence, the christian traveller, while he bestows, in common with others, his due share of applause on the decorations of the rich, and is not insensible to the beauties and magnificence which are the lawfully allowed appendages of rank and fortune, cannot overlook the humbler dwelling of the poor. and if he should find that true piety and grace beneath the thatched roof, which he has in vain looked for amidst the worldly grandeur of the rich, he remembers the word of god. . . . he sees, with admiration, that 'the high and lofty one, that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is holy, who dwelleth in the high and holy place, dwelleth with _him also_ that is of a contrite and humble spirit,' isaiah lvii., ; and although heaven is his throne, and the earth his footstool, yet when a home is to be built, and a place of rest to be sought for himself, he says, 'to this man will i look, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word,' isaiah lxvi., , . when a home is thus tenanted, faith beholds this inscription written on the walls, _the lord lives here_. faith, therefore, cannot pass it by unnoticed, but loves to lift up the latch of the door, and sit down, and converse with the poor, though perhaps despised, inhabitant. many a sweet interview does faith obtain when she thus takes her walks abroad. many such a sweet interview have i myself enjoyed beneath the roof where dwelt the dairyman and his little family. "i soon perceived that his daughter's health was rapidly on the decline. the pale, wasting consumption, which is the lord's instrument for removing so many thousands every year from the land of the living, made hasty strides on her constitution. the hollow eye, the distressing cough, and the often too flattering red on the cheek, foretold the approach of death. "i have often thought what a field for usefulness and affectionate attention, on the part of ministers and christian friends, is opened by the frequent attacks and lingering progress of _consumptive_ illness. how many such precious opportunities are daily lost, where providence seems in so marked a way to afford time and space for serious and godly instruction! of how many may it be said: 'the way of peace have they not known'; for not one friend ever came nigh to warn them to 'flee from the wrath to come.' "but the dairyman's daughter was happily made acquainted with the things which belonged to her everlasting peace before the present disease had taken root in her constitution. in my visits to her i might be said rather to receive information than to impart it. her mind was abundantly stored with divine truths, and her conversations truly edifying. the recollection of it still produces a thankful sensation in my heart." nevertheless, when borrow had bought a copy of this book he was willing to do what was asked, and to attempt also to translate into german phillips' "proximate causes of the material phenomena of the universe," or what the translator called "his tale of an apple and a pear." but phillips changed his mind about the "dairyman's daughter" and commissioned a compilation of "newgate lives and trials" instead. borrow failed with the translation of the "proximate causes" but liked very well the compiling of the "celebrated trials"--of joan of arc, cagliostro, mary queen of scots, raleigh, the gunpowder plotters, queen caroline, thurtell, the cato street conspirators, and many more--in six volumes. he also wrote reviews for phillips' magazine, and contributed more translations of poetry and many scraps of "danish traditions and superstitions," like the following: "at east hessing, in the district of calling, there was once a rural wedding; and when the morning was near at hand, the guests rushed out of the house with much noise and tumult. when they were putting their horses to the carts, in order to leave the place, each of them boasted and bragged of his bridal present. but when the uproar was at the highest, and they were all speaking together, a maiden dressed in green, and with a bulrush plaited over her head, came from a neighbouring morass, and going up to the fellow who was noisiest and bragged most of his bridal gift, she said, 'what will you give to lady boe?' the boor, who was half intoxicated from the brandy and ale he had swallowed, seized a whip, and answered, 'three strokes of my waggon-whip.' but at the same moment he fell a corpse to the ground." if translation like this is journeyman's work for the journeyman, for borrow it was of great value because it familiarised him with the marvellous and the supernatural and so helped him towards the expression of his own material and spiritual adventures. the wild and often other- worldly air of much of his work is doubtless due to his wild and other- worldly mind, but owes a considerable if uncertain debt to his reading of ballads and legends, which give a little to the substance of his work and far more to the tone of it. among other things translated at this time he mentions the "saga of burnt njal." he was not happy in london. he had few friends there, and perhaps those he had only disturbed without sweetening his solitude. one of these was a norwich friend, named roger kerrison, who shared lodgings with him at , millman street, bedford row. borrow confided in kerrison, and had written to him before leaving norwich in terms of perhaps unconsciously worked-up affection. but borrow's low spirits in london were more than kerrison could stand. when borrow was proposing a short visit to norwich his friend wrote to john thomas borrow, suggesting that he should keep his brother there for a time, or else return with him, for this reason. borrow had "repeatedly" threatened suicide, and unable to endure his fits of desperation kerrison had gone into separate lodgings: if his friend were to return in this state and find himself alone he would "again make some attempt to destroy himself." nothing was done, so far as is known, and he did not commit suicide. it is a curious commentary on the work of hack writers that this youth should have written as a note to his translation of "the suicide's grave," { } that it was not translated for its sentiments but for its poetry; "although the path of human life is rough and thorny, the mind may always receive consolation by looking forward to the world to come. the mind which rejects a future state has to thank itself for its utter misery and hopelessness." his malady was youth, aggravated, the food reformer would say, by eating fourteen pennyworth of bread and cheese at a meal, and certainly aggravated by literary ambition. judging from the thirty-first chapter of "lavengro," he was exceptionally sensitive at this time to all impressions--probably both pleasant and unpleasant. he describes himself on his first day gazing at the dome of st. paul's until his brain became dizzy, and he thought the dome would fall and crush him, and he shrank within himself, and struck yet deeper into the heart of the big city. he stood on london bridge dazed by the mighty motion of the waters and the multitude of men and "horses as large as elephants. there i stood, just above the principal arch, looking through the balustrade at the scene that presented itself--and such a scene! towards the left bank of the river, a forest of masts, thick and close, as far as the eye could reach; spacious wharfs, surmounted with gigantic edifices; and, far away, caesar's castle, with its white tower. to the right, another forest of masts, and a maze of buildings, from which, here and there, shot up to the sky chimneys taller than cleopatra's needle, vomiting forth huge wreaths of that black smoke which forms the canopy--occasionally a gorgeous one--of the more than babel city. stretching before me, the troubled breast of the mighty river, and, immediately below, the main whirlpool of the thames--the maelstrom of the bulwarks of the middle arch--a grisly pool, which, with its superabundance of horror, fascinated me. who knows but i should have leapt into its depths?--i have heard of such things--but for a rather startling occurrence which broke the spell. as i stood upon the bridge, gazing into the jaws of the pool, a small boat shot suddenly through the arch beneath my feet. there were three persons in it; an oarsman in the middle, whilst a man and woman sat at the stern. i shall never forget the thrill of horror which went through me at this sudden apparition. what!--a boat--a small boat--passing beneath that arch into yonder roaring gulf! yes, yes, down through that awful water-way, with more than the swiftness of an arrow, shot the boat, or skiff, right into the jaws of the pool. a monstrous breaker curls over the prow--there is no hope; the boat is swamped, and all drowned in that strangling vortex. no! the boat, which appeared to have the buoyancy of a feather, skipped over the threatening horror, and the next moment was out of danger, the boatman--a true boatman of cockaigne, that--elevating one of his skulls in sign of triumph, the man hallooing, and the woman, a true englishwoman that--of a certain class--waving her shawl. whether any one observed them save myself, or whether the feat was a common one, i know not; but nobody appeared to take any notice of them. as for myself, i was so excited, that i strove to clamber up the balustrade of the bridge, in order to obtain a better view of the daring adventurers. before i could accomplish my design, however, i felt myself seized by the body, and, turning my head, perceived the old fruit-woman, who was clinging to me." on this very day, in his account, he first met the "fiery, enthusiastic and open-hearted," pleasure-loving young irishman, whom he calls francis ardry, who took him to the theatre and to "the strange and eccentric places of london," and no doubt helped to give him the feeling of "a regular arabian nights' entertainment." c. g. leland { } tells a story told to him by one who might have been the original of ardry. the story is the only independent evidence of borrow's london life. this "old gentleman" had been in youth for a long time the most intimate friend of george borrow, who was, he said, a very wild and eccentric youth. "one night, when skylarking about london, borrow was pursued by the police, as he wished to be, even as panurge so planned as to be chased by the night- watch. he was very tall and strong in those days, a trained shoulder- hitter, and could run like a deer. he was hunted to the thames, and there they thought they had him. but the romany rye made for the edge, and leaping into the wan water, like the squyre in the old ballad, swam to the other side, and escaped." it is no wonder he "did not like reviewing at all," especially as he "never could understand why reviews were instituted; works of merit do not require to be reviewed, they can speak for themselves, and require no praising; works of no merit at all will die of themselves, they require no killing." he forgot "the dairyman's daughter," and he could not foresee the early fate of "lavengro" itself. he preferred manlier crime and riskier deception to reviewing. as he read over the tales of rogues, he says, he became again what he had been as a boy, a necessitarian, and could not "imagine how, taking all circumstances into consideration, these highwaymen, these pickpockets, should have been anything else than highwaymen and pickpockets." these were the days of such books as "the life and extraordinary adventures of samuel denmore hayward, denominated the modern macheath, who suffered at the old bailey, on tuesday, november , , for the crime of burglary," by pierce egan, embellished with a highly-finished miniature by mr. smart, etched by t. r. cruikshank; and a facsimile of his handwriting. london, ." it is a poor book, and now has descendants lower in the social scale. it pretends to give "a most awful but useful lesson to the rising generation" by an account of the criminal whose appearance as a boy "was so superior to other boys of his class in life as to have the look of a gentleman's child." he naturally became a waiter, and "though the situation did not exactly accord with his ambition, it answered his purpose, because it afforded him an opportunity of studying _character_, and being in the company of gentlemen." he was "a generous high-minded fellow towards the ladies," and became the fancy man of someone else's mistress, living "in the style of a gentleman _solely_ at the expense of the beautiful miss ---." his "unembarrassed and gentlemanly" behaviour survived even while he was being searched, and he entered the chapel before execution "with a firm step, accompanied with the most gentlemanly deportment." the end came nevertheless: "bowing to the sheriffs and the few persons around him with all the manners of an accomplished gentleman, he ascended the drop with a firmness that astonished everyone present; and resigned his eventful life without scarce a struggle." the moral was the obvious one. "his talents were his misfortunes." the biographer pretends to believe that, though the fellow lived in luxury, he must always have had a harassed mind; the truth being that he himself would have had a harassed mind if he had played so distinguished a part. "the chequered life of that young man," he says, "abounding with incidents and facts almost incredible, and scarcely ever before practised with so much art and delusion in so short a period, impressively points out the danger arising from the possession of _great talents_ when perverted or _misapplied_." he points out, furthermore, how vice sinks before virtue. "for instance, view the countenances of thieves, who are regaling themselves on the most expensive liquors, laughing and singing, how they are changed in an instant by the appearance of police officers entering a room in search of them. . . ." finally, "let the youth of london bear in mind that honesty is the best policy. . . . "in this happy country, where every individual has an opportunity of raising himself to the highest office in the state, what might the abilities of the unfortunate hayward have accomplished for him if he had not deviated from the paths of virtue? there is no place like london in the world where a man of talents meets with so much encouragement and liberality; his society is courted, and his presence gives a weight to any company in which he appears; if supported by a good character." but the crime was the thing. of a different class was john hamilton reynolds' "the fancy." this book, published in , would have wholly delighted borrow. i will quote the footnote to the "lines to philip samson, the brummagem youth": "of all the great men of this age, in poetry, philosophy, or pugilism, there is no one of such transcendent talent as randall;--no one who combines the finest natural powers with the most elegant and finished acquired ones. the late professor stewart (who has left the learned ring) is acknowledged to be clever in philosophy, but he is a left-handed metaphysical fighter at best, and cannot be relied upon at closing with his subject. lord byron is a powerful poet, with a mind weighing fourteen stone; but he is too sombre and bitter, and is apt to lose his temper. randall has no defect, or at best he has not yet betrayed the appearance of one. his figure is remarkable, when _peeled_, for its statue-like beauty, and nothing can equal the alacrity with which he uses either hand, or the coolness with which he _receives_. his goodness on his legs, boxiana (a lord eldon in the skill and caution of his judgments) assures us, is unequalled. he doubles up an opponent, as a friend lately declared, as easily as though he were picking a flower or pinching a girl's cheek. he is about to fight jos. hudson, who challenged him lately at the royal tennis court. randall declared, that 'though he had declined fighting, he would _accommodate joshua_'; a kind and benevolent reply, which does equal honour to his head and heart. the editor of this little volume, like goldfinch in the 'road to ruin,' 'would not stay away for a thousand pounds.' he has already looked about for a tall horse and a taxed cart, and he has some hopes of compassing a drab coat and a white hat, for he has no wish to appear singular at such scenes." reynolds, like borrow, was an admirer of byron, and he anticipated borrow in the spirit of his remark to john murray that the author's trade was contemptible compared with the jockey's. at that moment it was unquestionably so. soon even reviewing failed. the "universal review" died at the beginning of , and borrow seems to have quarrelled with phillips because some germans had found the german of his translation as unintelligible as he had found the publisher's english. he had nothing left but his physical strength, his translations, and a very little money. when he had come down to half-a-crown, he says, he thought of accepting a patriotic armenian's invitation to translate an armenian work into english; only the armenian went away. chapter xiii--"joseph sell" then, on a fair day on blackheath, he met mr. petulengro again who said he looked ill and offered him the loan of pounds, which he would not accept, nor his invitation to join the band. dr. knapp confidently gives the date of may to this incident because that is the day of the annual fair. then seeing an advertisement: "a novel or tale is much wanted," outside a bookseller's shop, borrow wrote "the life and adventures of joseph sell, the great traveller." did he? dr. knapp thinks he did, but that the story had another name, and is to be sought for in such collections of and as "watt's literary souvenir." as borrow speaks of the materials of it having come from his own brain, and as dr. knapp says he could not invent, why not conclude that it was autobiographical? there is no evidence except that the account sounds true, and might very well be true. dr. knapp thinks that he wrote this book, and that he did many other things which he said he did, because wherever there is any evidence it corroborates borrow's statements except in small matters of names and dates. in the earlier version of "lavengro," represented by a manuscript and a proof, "ardry" is "arden," "jasper" is "ambrose," and the question "what is his name?" is answered by "thurtell," instead of a blank. now there was an ambrose smith whom borrow knew, and thurtell was such a man as he describes in search of a place for the fight. therefore, dr. knapp would be inclined to say that borrow did know a young man named arden. and, furthermore, as isopel is called elizabeth in that earlier version, isopel did exist, but her name was elizabeth: she was, says mr. watts-dunton, "really an east anglian road girl" (not a gypsy) "of the finest type, known to the boswells and remembered not many years ago." and speaking of isopel--there is a story still to be heard at long melford of a girl "who lived on the green and ran away with the gypsy," in about the year . with this may possibly be connected another story: of a young painter of dogs and horses who was living at melford in and seduced either one or two sisters of the warden of the hospital or almshouse, and had two illegitimate children, one at any rate a girl. the great house was one used, but not built, for a workhouse: it stood near the vicarage at melford, but has now disappeared, and apparently its records with it. borrow did not invent, says knapp, which is absurd. some of his reappearances, recognitions and coincidences must be inventions. the postillion's tale must be largely invention. but it is not fair or necessary to retort as hindes groome did: "is the man in black then also a reality, and the reverend mr. platitude? in other words, did tractarianism exist in , eight years before it was engendered by keble's sermon?" for borrow was unscrupulous or careless about time and place. but it is fair and necessary to say, as hindes groome did, that some of the unverities in "lavengro" and "the romany rye" are "probably due to forgetfulness," the rest to "love of posing, but much more to an honest desire to produce an amusing and interesting book." { a} borrow was a great admirer of the "memoirs" { b} of vidocq," principal agent of the french police till --now proprietor of the paper manufactory at st. maude," and formerly showman, soldier, galley slave, and highwayman. of this book the editor says: "it is not our province or intention to enter into a discussion of the veracity of vidocq's "memoirs": be they true or false, were they purely fiction from the first chapter to the last, they would, from fertility of invention, knowledge of human nature, and easy style, rank only second to the novels of le sage." it was certainly with books such as this in his mind that borrow composed his autobiography, but it goes so much deeper that it is at every point a revelation, usually of actual events and emotions, always of thought and taste. in these "memoirs" of vidocq there is a man named christian, or caron, with a reputation for removing charms cast on animals, and he takes vidocq to his gypsy friends at malines: "having traversed the city, we stopped in the faubourg de louvain, before a wretched looking house with blackened walls, furrowed with wide crevices, and many bundles of straw as substitutes for window glasses. it was midnight, and i had time to make my observations by the moonlight, for more than half an hour elapsed before the door was opened by one of the most hideous old hags i ever saw in my life. we were then introduced to a long room where thirty persons of both sexes were indiscriminately smoking and drinking, mingling in strange and licentious positions. under their blue loose frocks, ornamented with red embroidery, the men wore blue velvet waistcoats with silver buttons, like the andalusian muleteers; the clothing of the women was all of one bright colour; there were some ferocious countenances amongst them, but yet they were all feasting. the monotonous sound of a drum, mingled with the howling of two dogs tied under the table, accompanied the strange songs, which i mistook for a funeral psalm. the smoke of tobacco and wood which filled this den, scarcely allowed me to perceive in the midst of the room a woman, who, adorned with a scarlet turban, was performing a wild dance with the most wanton postures." dr. knapp, on insufficient evidence, attributes the translation to borrow. but certainly borrow might have incorporated this passage in his own work almost word for word without justifying a charge either of plagiarism or untruth. other men had written fiction as if it were autobiography; he was writing autobiography as if it were fiction; he used his own life as a subject for fiction. ford crudely said that borrow "coloured up and poetised" his adventures. chapter xiv--out of london if borrow is taken literally, he was at blackheath on may , , sold his "life of joseph sell" on the th, and left london on the nd. "for some months past i had been far from well, and my original indisposition, brought on partly by the peculiar atmosphere of the big city, partly by anxiety of mind, had been much increased by the exertions which i had been compelled to make during the last few days. i felt that, were i to remain where i was, i should die, or become a confirmed valetudinarian. i would go forth into the country, travelling on foot, and, by exercise and inhaling pure air, endeavour to recover my health, leaving my subsequent movements to be determined by providence." he says definitely in the appendix to "the romany rye," that he fled from london and hack-authorship for "fear of a consumption." walking on an unknown road out of london the "poor thin lad" felt tired at the ninth milestone, and thought of putting up at an inn for the night, but instead took the coach to ---, _i.e._, amesbury. the remaining ninety chapters of "lavengro" and "the romany rye" are filled by the story of the next four months of borrow's life and by stories told to him during that period. the preceding fifty-seven chapters had sufficed for twenty-two years. "the novelty" of the new itinerant life, says mr. thomas seccombe, { } "graved every incident in the most vivid possible manner upon the writer's recollection." after walking for four days northwest from salisbury he met an author, a rich man who was continually touching things to avert the evil chance, and with him he stayed the night. on the next day he bought a pony and cart from the tinker, jack slingsby, with the purpose of working on the tinker's beat and making horse-shoes. after some days he was visited down in a shropshire dingle by a gypsy girl, who poisoned him at the instigation of his enemy, old mrs. herne. only the accidental appearance of the welsh preacher, peter williams, saved him. years afterwards, in , it may be mentioned here, he told a friend in cornwall that his fits of melancholy were due to the poison of a gypsy crone. he spent a week in the company of the preacher and his wife, and was about to cross the welsh border with them when jasper petulengro reappeared, and he turned back. jasper told him that mrs. herne had hanged herself out of disappointment at his escape from her poison. this made it a point of honour for jasper to fight borrow, whose bloody face satisfied him in half an hour: he even offered borrow his sister ursula for a wife. borrow refused, and settled alone in mumper's dingle, which was perhaps mumber lane, five miles from willenhall in staffordshire. { } here he fought the flaming tinman, who had driven slingsby out of his beat. the tinman brought with him his wife and isopel berners, the tall fair-haired girl who struck borrow first with her beauty and then with her right arm. isopel stayed with borrow after the defeat of the tinman, and their companionship in the dingle fills a very large part of "lavengro" and "the romany rye," with interruptions and diversions from the man in black, the gin-drinking priest, who was then at work undermining the protestantism of old england. isopel stood by him when suffering from "indescribable horror," and recommended "ale, and let it be strong." borrow makes her evidently inclined to marry him; for example, when she says that if she goes to america she will go alone "unless--unless that should happen which is not likely," and when he says ". . . if i had the power i would make you queen of something better than the dingle--queen of china. come, let us have tea," and "'something less would content me,' said belle, sighing, as she rose to prepare our evening meal"--and when at the postillion's suggestion of a love affair, she buries her face in her hands. "she would sigh, too," he says, "as i recounted the many slights and degradations i had received at the hands of ferocious publishers." in one place borrow says: "i am, of course, nothing to her, but she is mistaken in thinking she is nothing to me." borrow represents himself as tyrannically imposing himself upon the girl as teacher of armenian, enlivening the instruction with the one mild _double entendre_, of "i decline a mistress." at times they seem on terms of as perfect good fellowship as ever was, with a touch of post-matrimonial indifference; but isopel had fits of weeping and borrow of listlessness. borrow was uncommonly fond of prophetic tragic irony. as he made thurtell unconsciously suggest to the reader his own execution, so he makes isopel say one day when she is going a journey: "i shall return once more." lavengro starts but thinks no more of it. while she was away he began to think: "i began to think, 'what was likely to be the profit of my present way of life; the living in dingles, making pony and donkey shoes, conversing with gypsy-women under hedges, and extracting from them their odd secrets?' what was likely to be the profit of such a kind of life, even should it continue for a length of time?--a supposition not very probable, for i was earning nothing to support me, and the funds with which i had entered upon this life were gradually disappearing. i was living, it is true, not unpleasantly, enjoying the healthy air of heaven; but, upon the whole, was i not sadly misspending my time? surely i was; and, as i looked back, it appeared to me that i had always been doing so. what had been the profit of the tongues which i had learned? had they ever assisted me in the day of hunger? no, no! it appeared to me that i had always misspent my time, save in one instance, when by a desperate effort i had collected all the powers of my imagination, and written the 'life of joseph sell'; but even when i wrote the 'life of sell,' was i not in a false position? provided i had not misspent my time, would it have been necessary to make that effort, which, after all, had only enabled me to leave london, and wander about the country for a time? but could i, taking all circumstances into consideration, have done better than i had? with my peculiar temperament and ideas, could i have pursued with advantage the profession to which my respectable parents had endeavoured to bring me up? it appeared to me that i could not, and that the hand of necessity had guided me from my earliest years, until the present night in which i found myself seated in the dingle, staring on the brands of the fire. but ceasing to think of the past which, as irrecoverably gone, it was useless to regret, even were there cause to regret it, what should i do in future? should i write another book like the 'life of joseph sell;' take it to london, and offer it to a publisher? but when i reflected on the grisly sufferings which i had undergone whilst engaged in writing the 'life of sell,' i shrank from the idea of a similar attempt; moreover, i doubted whether i possessed the power to write a similar work--whether the materials for the life of another sell lurked within the recesses of my brain? had i not better become in reality what i had hitherto been merely playing at--a tinker or a gypsy? but i soon saw that i was not fitted to become either in reality. it was much more agreeable to play the gypsy or the tinker, than to become either in reality. i had seen enough of gypsying and tinkering to be convinced of that. all of a sudden the idea of tilling the soil came into my head; tilling the soil was a healthful and noble pursuit! but my idea of tilling the soil had no connection with britain; for i could only expect to till the soil in britain as a serf. i thought of tilling it in america, in which it was said there was plenty of wild, unclaimed land, of which any one, who chose to clear it of its trees, might take possession. i figured myself in america, in an immense forest, clearing the land destined, by my exertions, to become a fruitful and smiling plain. methought i heard the crash of the huge trees as they fell beneath my axe; and then i bethought me that a man was intended to marry--i ought to marry; and if i married, where was i likely to be more happy as a husband and a father than in america, engaged in tilling the ground? i fancied myself in america, engaged in tilling the ground, assisted by an enormous progeny. well, why not marry, and go and till the ground in america? i was young, and youth was the time to marry in, and to labour in. i had the use of all my faculties; my eyes, it is true, were rather dull from early study, and from writing the 'life of joseph sell'; but i could see tolerably well with them, and they were not bleared. i felt my arms, and thighs, and teeth--they were strong and sound enough; so now was the time to labour, to marry, eat strong flesh, and beget strong children--the power of doing all this would pass away with youth, which was terribly transitory. i bethought me that a time would come when my eyes would be bleared, and perhaps, sightless; my arms and thighs strengthless and sapless; when my teeth would shake in my jaws, even supposing they did not drop out. no going a wooing then--no labouring--no eating strong flesh, and begetting lusty children then; and i bethought me how, when all this should be, i should bewail the days of my youth as misspent, provided i had not in them founded for myself a home, and begotten strong children to take care of me in the days when i could not take care of myself; and thinking of these things, i became sadder and sadder, and stared vacantly upon the fire till my eyes closed in a doze." so, before going to bed, he filled the kettle in case isopel should return during the night. he fell asleep and was dreaming hard and hearing the sound of wheels in his dream "grating amidst sand and gravel," when suddenly he awoke. "the next moment i was awake, and found myself sitting up in my tent; there was a glimmer of light through the canvas caused by the fire; a feeling of dread came over me, which was perhaps natural, on starting suddenly from one's sleep in that wild lone place; i half imagined that some one was nigh the tent; the idea made me rather uncomfortable, and to dissipate it i lifted up the canvas of the door and peeped out, and, lo! i had an indistinct view of a tall figure standing by the tent. 'who is that?' said i, whilst i felt my blood rush to my heart. 'it is i,' said the voice of isopel berners; 'you little expected me, i dare say; well, sleep on, i do not wish to disturb you.' 'but i was expecting you,' said i, recovering myself, 'as you may see by the fire and the kettle. i will be with you in a moment.' "putting on in haste the articles of dress which i had flung off, i came out of the tent, and addressing myself to isopel, who was standing beside her cart, i said--'just as i was about to retire to rest i thought it possible that you might come to-night, and got everything in readiness for you. now, sit down by the fire whilst i lead the donkey and cart to the place where you stay; i will unharness the animal, and presently come and join you.' 'i need not trouble you,' said isopel; 'i will go myself and see after my things.' 'we will go together,' said i, 'and then return and have some tea.' isopel made no objection, and in about half an hour we had arranged everything at her quarters. i then hastened and prepared tea. presently isopel rejoined me, bringing her stool; she had divested herself of her bonnet, and her hair fell over her shoulders; she sat down, and i poured out the beverage, handing her a cup. 'have you made a long journey to-night?' said i. 'a very long one,' replied belle,' i have come nearly twenty miles since six o'clock.' 'i believe i heard you coming in my sleep,' said i; 'did the dogs above bark at you?' 'yes,' said isopel, 'very violently; did you think of me in your sleep?' 'no,' said i, 'i was thinking of ursula and something she had told me.' 'when and where was that?' said isopel. 'yesterday evening,' said i, 'beneath the dingle hedge.' 'then you were talking with her beneath the hedge?' 'i was,' said i, 'but only upon gypsy matters. do you know, belle, that she has just been married to sylvester, so you need not think that she and i . . . ' 'she and you are quite at liberty to sit where you please,' said isopel. 'however, young man,' she continued, dropping her tone, which she had slightly raised, 'i believe what you said, that you were merely talking about gypsy matters, and also what you were going to say, if it was, as i suppose, that she and you had no particular acquaintance.' isopel was now silent for some time. 'what are you thinking of?' said i. 'i was thinking,' said belle, 'how exceedingly kind it was of you to get everything in readiness for me, though you did not know that i should come.' 'i had a presentiment that you would come,' said i; 'but you forget that i have prepared the kettle for you before, though it was true i was then certain that you would come.' 'i had not forgotten your doing so, young man,' said belle; 'but i was beginning to think that you were utterly selfish, caring for nothing but the gratification of your own strange whims.' 'i am very fond of having my own way,' said i, 'but utterly selfish i am not, as i dare say i shall frequently prove to you. you will often find the kettle boiling when you come home.' 'not heated by you,' said isopel, with a sigh. 'by whom else?' said i; 'surely you are not thinking of driving me away?' 'you have as much right here as myself,' said isopel, 'as i have told you before; but i must be going myself.' 'well,' said i, 'we can go together; to tell you the truth, i am rather tired of this place.' 'our paths must be separate,' said belle. 'separate,' said i, 'what do you mean? i shan't let you go alone, i shall go with you; and you know the road is as free to me as to you; besides, you can't think of parting company with me, considering how much you would lose by doing so; remember that you scarcely know anything of the armenian language; now, to learn armenian from me would take you twenty years.' "belle faintly smiled. 'come,' said i, 'take another cup of tea.' belle took another cup of tea, and yet another; we had some indifferent conversation, after which i arose and gave her donkey a considerable feed of corn. belle thanked me, shook me by the hand, and then went to her own tabernacle, and i returned to mine." he torments her once more with armenian and makes her speak in such a way that the reader sees--what he himself did not then see--that she was too sick with love for banter. she bade him farewell with the same transparent significance on the next day, when he was off early to a fair. "i waved my hand towards her. she slowly lifted up her right arm. i turned away and never saw isopel berners again." that night as he was going home he said: "isopel berners is waiting for me, and the first word that i shall hear from her lips is that she has made up her mind. we shall go to america, and be so happy together." she sent him a letter of farewell, and he could not follow her, he would not try, lest if he overtook her she should despise him for running after her. i can only say that it is an extraordinary love-making, but then all love- making, when truthfully reported, is extraordinary. there can be little doubt, therefore, that this episode is truthfully reported. borrow himself has made a comment on himself and women through the mouth of jasper. the gypsy had overheard him talking to his sister ursula for three hours under a hedge, and his opinion was: "i begin to think you care for nothing in this world but old words and strange stories." when, afterwards, invited to kiss the same ursula, he refused, "having," he says, "inherited from nature a considerable fund of modesty, to which was added no slight store acquired in the course of my irish education," _i.e._ at the age of twelve. after isopel had gone he bought a fine horse with the help of a loan of pounds from jasper, and travelled with it across england, meeting adventures and hearing of others. he was for a time bookkeeper at a coaching inn, still with some pounds in his purse. at horncastle, which he mentions more than once by name, he sold the horse for pounds. as the fair at horncastle lasted from the th to the st of august, the date of this last adventure is almost exactly fixed. here the book ends. {picture: horncastle horse fair. (from an old print.): page .jpg} chapter xv--an early portrait at the end of these travels borrow had turned twenty-two. his brother john painted his portrait, but it has disappeared, and borrow himself, as if fearing lest no adequate picture of him should remain, took pains to leave the material for one. it is a peculiarity of his books that people whom he meets and converses with often remark on his appearance. he must himself have been tolerably familiar with it and used to comment on it. he told his father that a lady thought him like alfieri's saul; at a later date haydon, the painter, said he would "make a capital pharaoh." years before, when he was a boy, petulengro recognised him after a long absence, because there was something in his face to prevent people from forgetting him. mrs. herne, his gypsy enemy, praised him for his "singular and outrageous ugliness." he was lean, long-limbed and tall, having reached his full height of six-feet-two probably before the end of his teens; he had plenty of room to fill before becoming a big man, and yet he was already powerful and clearly destined to be a big man. his hair had for some time been rapidly becoming grey, and was soon to be altogether white: it had once been black, and his strongly-marked eyebrows were still dark brown. his face was oval and inclining to olive in complexion; his nose rounded, but not too large; his mouth good and well-moulded; his eyes dark brown and noticeable indescribably, either through their light or through the curve of the eyelids across them. "you have a flash about that eye of yours," says the old apple woman, and it is she that notices the "blob of foam" on his lips, while he is musing aloud, exclaiming "necessity!" and cracking his finger-joints. he had an irish look, or so thought his london acquaintance, ardry. he looked "rather wild" at times and he had a way of clenching his fist when he was determined not to be put upon, as the bullying coachman found who had said: "one-and-ninepence, sir, or the things which you have brought with you will be taken away from you." yet he had small hands for his size and "long white fingers," which "would just serve for the business," said the thimble-rigger. though ready to hit people when he is angry, "a more civil and pleasant-spoken person than yourself," says ursula, "can't be found." his own opinion was "that he was not altogether deficient in courage and in propriety of behaviour. . . . that his appearance was not particularly against him, his face not being like that of a convicted pickpocket, nor his gait resembling that of a fox that has lost his tail." it is as a "poor thin lad" that he commends himself to us, through the mouth of the old apple woman, at his setting out from london, but as he gets on he shows himself "an excellent pedestrian." already in london he has made one or two favourable impressions, as when he convinces the superb waiter that he is "accustomed to claret." but it is upon the roads that he wishes to shine. when the man in black asks how he knows him, he answers that "gypsies have various ways of obtaining information." later on, he makes the man in black address him as "zingaro." he impresses the commercial traveller as "a confounded sensible young fellow, and not at all opinionated," and lord whitefeather as a highwayman in disguise, and the gypsies as one who never spoke a bad word and never did a bad thing. this is his most impressive moment, when the jockey discovers that he is the romany rye and tells him there is scarcely a part of england where he has not heard the name of the romany rye mentioned by the gypsies. here he makes another praise him. now let him mount the fine horse he has bought with pounds borrowed from a gypsy, and is about to sell for pounds at horncastle fair. "after a slight breakfast i mounted the horse, which, decked out in his borrowed finery, really looked better by a large sum of money than on any former occasion. making my way out of the yard of the inn, i was instantly in the principal street of the town, up and down which an immense number of horses were being exhibited, some led, and others with riders. 'a wonderful small quantity of good horses in the fair this time!' i heard a stout jockey-looking individual say, who was staring up the street with his side towards me. 'halloo, young fellow!' said he, a few moments after i had passed, 'whose horse is that? stop! i want to look at him!' though confident that he was addressing himself to me, i took no notice, remembering the advice of the ostler, and proceeded up the street. my horse possessed a good walking step; but walking, as the reader knows, was not his best pace, which was the long trot, at which i could not well exercise him in the street, on account of the crowd of men and animals; however, as he walked along, i could easily perceive that he attracted no slight attention amongst those who, by their jockey dress and general appearance, i imagined to be connoisseurs; i heard various calls to stop, to none of which i paid the slightest attention. in a few minutes i found myself out of the town, when, turning round for the purpose of returning, i found i had been followed by several of the connoisseur-looking individuals, whom i had observed in the fair. 'now would be the time for a display,' thought i; and looking around me i observed two five-barred gates, one on each side of the road, and fronting each other. turning my horse's head to one, i pressed my heels to his sides, loosened the reins, and gave an encouraging cry, whereupon the animal cleared the gate in a twinkling. before he had advanced ten yards in the field to which the gate opened, i had turned him round, and again giving him cry and rein, i caused him to leap back again into the road, and still allowing him head, i made him leap the other gate; and forthwith turning him round, i caused him to leap once more into the road, where he stood proudly tossing his head, as much as to say, 'what more?' 'a fine horse! a capital horse!' said several of the connoisseurs. 'what do you ask for him?' 'too much for any of you to pay,' said i. 'a horse like this is intended for other kind of customers than any of you.' 'how do you know that?' said one; the very same person whom i had heard complaining in the street of the paucity of good horses in the fair. 'come, let us know what you ask for him?' 'a hundred and fifty pounds!' said i; 'neither more nor less.' 'do you call that a great price?' said the man. 'why, i thought you would have asked double that amount! you do yourself injustice, young man.' 'perhaps i do,' said i, 'but that's my affair; i do not choose to take more.' 'i wish you would let me get into the saddle,' said the man; 'the horse knows you, and therefore shows to more advantage; but i should like to see how he would move under me, who am a stranger. will you let me get into the saddle, young man?' 'no,' said i, 'i will not let you get into the saddle.' 'why not?' said the man. 'lest you should be a yorkshireman,' said i, 'and should run away with the horse.' 'yorkshire?' said the man; 'i am from suffolk; silly suffolk--so you need not be afraid of my running away with the horse.' 'oh! if that's the case,' said i, 'i should be afraid that the horse would run away with you; so i will by no means let you mount.' 'will you let me look in his mouth?' said the man. 'if you please,' said i; 'but i tell you, he's apt to bite.' 'he can scarcely be a worse bite than his master,' said the man, looking into the horse's mouth; 'he's four off. i say, young man, will you warrant this horse?' 'no,' said i; 'i never warrant horses; the horses that i ride can always warrant themselves.' 'i wish you would let me speak a word to you,' said he. 'just come aside. it's a nice horse,' said he, in a half whisper, after i had ridden a few paces aside with him. 'it's a nice horse,' said he, placing his hand upon the pommel of the saddle and looking up in my face, 'and i think i can find you a customer. if you would take a hundred, i think my lord would purchase it, for he has sent me about the fair to look him up a horse, by which he could hope to make an honest penny.' 'well,' said i, 'and could he not make an honest penny, and yet give me the price i ask?' 'why,' said the go-between, 'a hundred and fifty pounds is as much as the animal is worth, or nearly so; and my lord, do you see . . .' 'i see no reason at all,' said i, 'why i should sell the animal for less than he is worth, in order that his lordship may be benefited by him; so that if his lordship wants to make an honest penny, he must find some person who would consider the disadvantage of selling him a horse for less than it is worth, as counterbalanced by the honour of dealing with a lord, which i should never do; but i can't be wasting my time here. i am going back to the . . ., where if you, or any person, are desirous of purchasing the horse, you must come within the next half-hour, or i shall probably not feel disposed to sell him at all.' 'another word, young man,' said the jockey; but without staying to hear what he had to say, i put the horse to his best trot, and re-entering the town, and threading my way as well as i could through the press, i returned to the yard of the inn, where, dismounting, i stood still, holding the horse by the bridle." as no one else troubled to paint borrow either at horncastle or any other place, and as he took advantage of the fact to such purpose, i must leave this portrait as it is, only i shall remind the reader that it is not a photograph but a portrait of the painter. a little time ago this painter was a consumptive-looking literary hack, and is still a philologist, with eyes a bit dim from too much reading, and subject to frantic melancholy;--a liker of solitude and of men and women who do not disturb it, but a man accustomed to men and very well able to deal with them. chapter xvi--the veiled period the last words of "the romany rye" narrative are: "i shouldn't wonder if mr. petulengro and tawno chikno came originally from india. i think i'll go there." this is his way of giving impressiveness to the "veiled period" of the following seven or eight years, for the benefit of those who had read "the zincali" and "the bible in spain," and had been allured by the hints of earlier travel. in "the zincali" he has spoken of seeing "gypsies of various lands, russian, hungarian and turkish; and also the legitimate children of most countries of the world": of being "in the shop of an armenian at constantinople," and "lately at janina in albania." in "the bible in spain" he had spoken of "an acquaintance of mine, a tartar khan." he had described strange things, and said: "this is not the first instance in which it has been my lot to verify the wisdom of the saying, that truth is sometimes wilder than fiction;" he had met baron taylor and reminded the reader of other meetings "in the street or the desert, the brilliant hall or amongst bedouin haimas, at novgorod or stambul." before he had been in paris and madrid. "i have been everywhere," he said to the simple company at a welsh inn. speaking to colonel napier in at seville, he said that he had picked up the gypsy tongue "some years ago in moultan," and he gave the impression that he had visited most parts of the east. a little too much has been made of this "veiled period," not by borrow, but by others. it would have been fair to surmise that if he chose not to write about this period of his life, either there was very little in it, or there was something in it which he was unwilling--perhaps ashamed--to disclose; and what has been discovered suggests that he was in an unsettled state--writing to please himself and perhaps also the booksellers, travelling a little and perhaps meeting some of the adventures which he crammed into those few months of , suffering from "the horrors" either in solitude or with no confidant but his mother. borrow himself took no great pains to preserve the veil. for instance, in the preface to his translation of "y bardd cwsg" in , he says that it was made "in the year at the request of a little welsh bookseller of his acquaintance" in smithfield. in he was in norwich: the "romantic ballads" were published there, and in may he received a letter from allan cunningham, whose cheery commendatory verses ushered in the book. the letter suggests that borrow was indolent from apathy. the book had no success or notice, which knapp puts down to his not sending out presentation copies. "i judge, however," says he, "that he sent one to walter scott, and that that busy writer forgot to acknowledge the courtesy. borrow's lifelong hostility to scott would thus be accounted for;" but the hostility is his reason for supposing that the copy was sent. some time afterwards, in , he was at , bryanstone street, portman square, and was to sit for the artist, b. r. haydon, before going off to the south of france. if he went, he may have paid the visits to paris, bayonne, italy and spain, which he alludes to in "the bible in spain"; he may, as dr. knapp suggests, have covered the ground of murtagh's alleged travels in "the romany rye," and have been at pau, with quesada's army marching to pamplona, at torrelodones, and at seville. but in a letter to the bible society in he spoke of his earlier acquaintance with spain being confined almost entirely to madrid. it may be true, as he says in "the zincali," that "once in the south of france, when he was weary, hungry, and penniless, he observed one of these patterans or gypsy trails, and, following the direction pointed out, arrived at the resting place of some gypsies, who received him with kindness and hospitality on the faith of no other word of recommendation than patteran." it may be true that he wandered in italy, and rested at nightfall by a kiln "about four leagues from genoa." but by april, , he must have been back in norwich, according to knapp, to see marshland shales at the fair. knapp gives certain proof that he was there between september and december. thereafter, if knapp was right, he was translating vidocq's "memoirs." in again he was in london, at , great russell street, bloomsbury, and was projecting with john bowring a collection of "songs of scandinavia." he applied for work to the highland society and to the british museum, in . in that summer he was at , museum street, bloomsbury. he was not satisfied with his work or its remuneration. he thought of entering the french army, of going to greece, of getting work, with bowring's help, under the belgian government. his name "had been down for several years" for the purchase of a commission in the english army, and bowring offered to recommend him to "a corps in one of the eastern colonies," where he could perfect his arabic and persian. in he wrote a letter to bowring, printed by mr. walling, asking for "as many of the papers and manuscripts which i left at yours some twelve years ago, as you can find," and for advice and a loan of books, and promising that murray will send a copy of "the bible in spain" to "my oldest, i may say my _only_ friend." but whatever bowring's help, borrow was "drifting on the sea of the world, and likely to be so," and especially hurt because of the figure he must cut in the eyes of his own people. was it now, or when he was bookkeeper at the inn in , that he saw so much of the ways of commercial travellers? { } it is not necessary to quote from the metrical translations, probably of this period, "selections from a huge, undigested mass of translation, accumulated during several years devoted to philological pursuits," published in "the targum" of . they were made from originals in the hebrew, arabic, persian, turkish, tartar, tibetian, chinese, mandchou, russian, malo-russian, polish, finnish, anglo-saxon, ancient norse, suabian, german, dutch, danish, ancient danish, swedish, ancient irish, irish, gaelic, ancient british, cambrian british, greek, modern greek, latin, provencal, italian, spanish, portuguese, french, rommany. i will, however, quote from "the sleeping bard, or visions of the world, death and hell," his translation of elis wyn's "y bardd cwsg." the book would please borrow, because in the city of perdition rome stands at the gate of pride, and the pope has palaces in the streets of pleasure and of lucre; because the church of england is the fairest part of the catholic church, surmounted by "queen anne on the pinnacle of the building, with a sword in each hand"; and because the papist is turned away from the catholic church by a porter with "an exceedingly large bible." "one fair morning," he begins: "one fair morning of genial april, when the earth was green and pregnant, and britain, like a paradise, was wearing splendid liveries, tokens of the smile of the summer sun, i was walking upon the bank of the severn, in the midst of the sweet notes of the little songsters of the wood, who appeared to be striving to break through all the measures of music, whilst pouring forth praise to the creator. i, too, occasionally raised my voice and warbled with the feathered choir, though in a manner somewhat more restrained than that in which they sang; and occasionally read a portion of the book of 'the practice of godliness.'" and in his vision he saw fiends drive men and women through the foul river of the fiend to their eternal damnation, where "i at the first glance saw more pains and torments than the heart of man can imagine or the tongue relate; a single one of which was sufficient to make the hair stand erect, the blood to freeze, the flesh to melt, the bones to drop from their places--yea, the spirit to faint. what is empaling or sawing men alive, tearing off the flesh piecemeal with iron pincers, or broiling the flesh with candles, collop fashion, or squeezing heads flat in a vice, and all the most shocking devices which ever were upon earth, compared with one of these? mere pastime! there were a hundred thousand shoutings, hoarse cries, and strong groans; yonder a boisterous wailing and horrible outcry answering them, and the howling of a dog is sweet, delicious music when compared with these sounds. when we had proceeded a little way onward from the accursed beach, towards the wild place of damnation, i perceived, by their own light, innumerable men and women here and there; and devils without number and without rest, incessantly employing their strength in tormenting. yes, there they were, devils and damned, the devils roaring with their own torments, and making the damned roar by means of the torments which they inflicted upon them. i paid particular observation to the corner which was nearest me. there i beheld the devils with pitchforks, tossing the damned up into the air that they might fall headlong on poisoned hatchets or barbed pikes, there to wriggle their bowels out. after a time the wretches would crawl in multitudes, one upon another, to the top of one of the burning crags, there to be broiled like mutton; from there they would be snatched afar, to the top of one of the mountains of eternal frost and snow, where they would be allowed to shiver for a time; thence they would be precipitated into a loathsome pool of boiling brimstone, to wallow there in conflagration, smoke and the suffocation of horrible stench; from the pool they would be driven to the marsh of hell, that they might embrace and be embraced by the reptiles, many times worse than serpents and vipers; after allowing them half an hour's dalliance with these creatures the devils would seize a bundle of rods of steel, fiery hot from the furnace, and would scourge them till their howling, caused by the horrible inexpressible pain which they endured, would fill the vast abode of darkness, and when the fiends deemed that they had scourged them enough, they would take hot irons and sear their bloody wounds. . . ." and this would have particularly pleased borrow, who disliked and condemned smoking: "for one of late origin i will not deny, o cerberus, that thou hast brought to us many a booty from the island of our enemies, by means of tobacco, a weed the cause of much deceit; for how much deceit is practised in carrying it about, in mixing it, and in weighing it: a weed which entices some people to bib ale; others to curse, swear, and to flatter in order to obtain it, and others to tell lies in denying that they use it: a weed productive of maladies in various bodies, the excess of which is injurious to every man's body, without speaking of his _soul_: a weed, moreover, by which we get multitudes of the poor, whom we should never get did they not set their love on tobacco, allow it to master them, and pull the bread from the mouths of their children." in the preface to this book as it was finally published in , borrow said that the little welsh bookseller had rejected it for fear of being ruined--"the terrible descriptions of vice and torment would frighten the genteel part of the english public out of their wits. . . . i had no idea, till i read him in english, that elis wyn had been such a terrible fellow." in september, , borrow left london and returned to norwich, having done nothing which attracted attention or deserved to. his brother's opinion was that his want of success in life was due chiefly to his being unlike other people. so far as his failure in literature went, it was due to the fact that he was doing either poorly or only moderately well work that very few people wanted to read, viz., chiefly verse translations from unfashionable languages. it may be also that his health was partly the cause and was in turn lowered by the long continued failure. when borrow, at the age of forty or more, came to write about the first twenty-two years of his life, he not only described himself suffering from several attacks of "the horrors," but also with almost equal vividness three men suffering from mental afflictions of different kinds: the author who lived alone and was continually touching things to avert the evil chance; the old man who had saved himself from being overwhelmed in his terrible misfortunes by studying the inscriptions on chinese pots, but could not tell the time; and the welshman who wandered over the country preaching and living piously, but haunted by the knowledge that in his boyhood he had committed the sin against the holy ghost. the most vivid description of his "horrors," which he said in always followed if they did not result from weakness, is in the eighty-fourth chapter of "lavengro": "heaviness had suddenly come over me, heaviness of heart, and of body also. i had accomplished the task which i had imposed upon myself, and now that nothing more remained to do, my energies suddenly deserted me, and i felt without strength, and without hope. several causes, perhaps, co-operated to bring about the state in which i then felt myself. it is not improbable that my energies had been overstrained during the work, the progress of which i have attempted to describe; and every one is aware that the results of overstrained energies are feebleness and lassitude--want of nourishment might likewise have something to do with it. during my sojourn in the dingle my food had been of the simplest and most unsatisfying description, by no means calculated to support the exertions which the labour i had been engaged upon required; it had consisted of coarse oaten cakes, and hard cheese, and for beverage i had been indebted to a neighbouring pit, in which, in the heat of the day, i frequently saw, not golden or silver fish, but frogs and efts swimming about. i am, however, inclined to believe that mrs. herne's cake had quite as much to do with the matter as insufficient nourishment. i had never entirely recovered from the effects of its poison, but had occasionally, especially at night, been visited by a grinding pain in the stomach, and my whole body had been suffused with cold sweat; and indeed these memorials of the drow have never entirely disappeared--even at the present time they display themselves in my system, especially after much fatigue of body, and excitement of mind. so there i sat in the dingle upon my stone, nerveless and hopeless, by whatever cause or causes that state had been produced--there i sat with my head leaning upon my hand, and so i continued a long, long time. at last i lifted my head from my hand, and began to cast anxious, unquiet looks about the dingle--the entire hollow was now enveloped in deep shade--i cast my eyes up; there was a golden gleam on the tops of the trees which grew towards the upper parts of the dingle; but lower down, all was gloom and twilight--yet, when i first sat down on my stone, the sun was right above the dingle, illuminating all its depths by the rays which it cast perpendicularly down--so i must have sat a long, long time upon my stone. and now, once more, i rested my head upon my hand, but almost instantly lifted it again in a kind of fear, and began looking at the objects before me, the forge, the tools, the branches of the trees, endeavouring to follow their rows, till they were lost in the darkness of the dingle; and now i found my right hand grasping convulsively the three forefingers of the left, first collectively, and then successively, wringing them till the joints cracked; then i became quiet, but not for long. "suddenly i started up, and could scarcely repress the shriek which was rising to my lips. was it possible? yes, all too certain; the evil one was upon me; the inscrutable horror which i had felt in my boyhood had once more taken possession of me. i had thought that it had forsaken me; that it would never visit me again; that i had outgrown it; that i might almost bid defiance to it; and i had even begun to think of it without horror, as we are in the habit of doing of horrors of which we conceive we run no danger; and lo! when least thought of, it had seized me again. every moment i felt it gathering force, and making me more wholly its own. what should i do?--resist, of course; and i did resist. i grasped, i tore, and strove to fling it from me; but of what avail were my efforts? i could only have got rid of it by getting rid of myself; it was a part of myself, or rather it was all myself. i rushed among the trees, and struck at them with my bare fists, and dashed my head against them, but i felt no pain. how could i feel pain with that horror upon me! and then i flung myself on the ground, gnawed the earth, and swallowed it; and then i looked round; it was almost total darkness in the dingle, and the darkness added to my horror. i could no longer stay there; up i rose from the ground, and attempted to escape; at the bottom of the winding path which led up the acclivity i fell over something which was lying on the ground; the something moved, and gave a kind of whine. it was my little horse, which had made that place its lair; my little horse; my only companion and friend, in that now awful solitude. i reached the mouth of the dingle; the sun was just sinking in the far west, behind me; the fields were flooded with his last gleams. how beautiful everything looked in the last gleams of the sun! i felt relieved for a moment; i was no longer in the horrid dingle; in another minute the sun was gone, and a big cloud occupied the place where he had been; in a little time it was almost as dark as it had previously been in the open part of the dingle. my horror increased; what was i to do?--it was of no use fighting against the horror; that i saw; the more i fought against it, the stronger it became. what should i do: say my prayers? ah! why not? so i knelt down under the hedge, and said, 'our father'; but that was of no use; and now i could no longer repress cries; the horror was too great to be borne. what should i do: run to the nearest town or village, and request the assistance of my fellow-men? no! that i was ashamed to do; notwithstanding the horror was upon me, i was ashamed to do that. i knew they would consider me a maniac, if i went screaming amongst them; and i did not wish to be considered a maniac. moreover, i knew that i was not a maniac, for i possessed all my reasoning powers, only the horror was upon me--the screaming horror! but how were indifferent people to distinguish between madness and this screaming horror? so i thought and reasoned; and at last i determined not to go amongst my fellow men, whatever the result might be. i went to the mouth of the dingle, and there, placing myself on my knees, i again said the lord's prayer; but it was of no use; praying seemed to have no effect over the horror; the unutterable fear appeared rather to increase than diminish; and i again uttered wild cries, so loud that i was apprehensive they would be heard by some chance passenger on the neighbouring road; i therefore went deeper into the dingle; i sat down with my back against a thorn bush; the thorns entered my flesh, and when i felt them, i pressed harder against the bush; i thought the pain of the flesh might in some degree counteract the mental agony; presently i felt them no longer; the power of the mental horror was so great that it was impossible, with that upon me, to feel any pain from the thorns. i continued in this posture a long time, undergoing what i cannot describe, and would not attempt if i were able. several times i was on the point of starting up and rushing anywhere; but i restrained myself, for i knew i could not escape from myself, so why should i not remain in the dingle? so i thought and said to myself, for my reasoning powers were still uninjured. at last it appeared to me that the horror was not so strong, not quite so strong upon me. was it possible that it was relaxing its grasp, releasing its prey? o what a mercy! but it could not be--and yet i looked up to heaven, and clasped my hands, and said 'our father.' i said no more; i was too agitated; and now i was almost sure that the horror had done its worst. "after a little time i arose, and staggered down yet farther into the dingle. i again found my little horse on the same spot as before, i put my hand to his mouth; he licked my hand. i flung myself down by him and put my arms round his neck, the creature whinnied, and appeared to sympathise with me; what a comfort to have any one, even a dumb brute, to sympathise with me at such a moment! i clung to my little horse, as if for safety and protection. i laid my head on his neck, and felt almost calm; presently the fear returned, but not so wild as before; it subsided, came again, again subsided; then drowsiness came over me, and at last i fell asleep, my head supported on the neck of the little horse. i awoke; it was dark, dark night--not a star was to be seen--but i felt no fear, the horror had left me. i arose from the side of the little horse, and went into my tent, lay down, and again went to sleep. . . ." it may be said that the man who had gone through this, and could describe it, would find it easy enough to depict other sufferings of the same kind, though in later or less violent stages. it is certain, however, that for such a one to acquire the habit of touching was easy. he says himself, that after the night with the author who had this habit and who feared ideas more than thunder and lightning, he himself touched things and wondered if "the long-forgotten influence" had returned. mr. walling says that "he has been informed" that borrow "suffered in his youth from the touching mania," and like many other readers probably, i had concluded the same. but mr. watts-dunton had already told us that "in walking through richmond park," when an old man, borrow "would step out of his way constantly to touch a tree and was offended if observed." the old man diverting himself with chinese inscriptions on teapots would be an easy invention for borrow; he may not have done this very thing, but he had done similar things. here again, mr. walling says that "he has been told" the incident was drawn from borrow's own experience. as to peter williams and the sin against the holy ghost, borrow hinted to him that his case was not exceptional: "'dost thou then imagine,' said peter, 'the sin against the holy ghost to be so common an occurrence?' "'as you have described it,' said i, 'of very common occurrence, especially amongst children, who are, indeed, the only beings likely to commit it.' "'truly,' said winifred, 'the young man talks wisely.' "peter was silent for some moments, and appeared to be reflecting; at last, suddenly raising his head, he looked me full in the face, and, grasping my hand with vehemence, he said, 'tell me, young man, only one thing, hast thou, too, committed the sin against the holy ghost?' "'i am neither papist nor methodist,' said i, 'but of the church, and, being so, confess myself to no one, but keep my own counsel; i will tell thee, however, had i committed at the same age, twenty such sins as that which you committed, i should feel no uneasiness at these years--but i am sleepy, and must go to rest.'" this is due to probably something more than a desire to make himself and his past impressive. the man's story in several places reminds me of borrow, where, for instance, after he has realised his unpardonable sin, he runs wild through wales, "climbing mountains and wading streams, burnt by the sun, drenched by the rain," so that for three years he hardly knew what befel him, living with robbers and gypsies, and once about to fling himself into the sea from a lofty rock. if it be true, as it is likely, that borrow suffered in a more extended manner than he showed in his accounts of the horrors, the time of the suffering is still uncertain. was it before his first escape from london, as he says in "lavengro"? was it during his second long stay in london or after his second escape? or was it really not long before the actual narrative was written in the 'forties? there is some reason for thinking so. the most vivid description of "the horrors," and the account of the touching gentleman and of peter williams, together with a second reference to "the horrors" or the "evil one," all occur in a section of "lavengro" equal to hardly more than a sixth of the whole. and further, when borrow was writing "wild wales," or when he met the sickly young man at the "castle inn" of caernarvon, he thought of himself as always having had "the health of an elephant." i should be inclined to conclude at least that when he was forty great mental suffering was still fresh in his mind, something worse than the heavy melancholy which returned now and then when he was past fifty. chapter xvii--the bible society: russia from the phrase, "he said in ' ," which borrow uses of himself in chapter x. of the appendix to "the romany rye," it was to be concluded that he was writing political articles in ; and dr. knapp was able to quote a manuscript of the time where he says that "there is no radical who would not rejoice to see his native land invaded by the bitterest of her foreign enemies," etc., and also a letter, printed in the "norfolk chronicle," on august , , on the origin of the word "tory." at the end of this year he became friendly with the family of skepper, including the widowed mrs. mary clarke, then years old, who lived at oulton hall, near lowestoft, in suffolk. with or through them he met the rev. francis cunningham, vicar of st. margaret's, lowestoft, who had married a sister of the quaker banker, joseph john gurney, and through the offices of these two, borrow was invited to go before the british and foreign bible society, as a candidate for employment in some branch of the society's work where his knowledge of languages would be useful. he walked to london for the purpose in december, . the society was satisfied and sent him back to norwich to learn the manchu-tartar language. there he wrote a letter, which, if we take dr. knapp's word for it, was "a sort of recantation of the taylorism of ." being now near thirty, and perhaps having his worst "horrors" behind him, or at least having reason to think so if he was already fond of mrs. clarke, whom he afterwards married, it was easy for him to fall into the same way of speaking as these good and kindly people, and to abuse buddhism, which he did not understand, for their delectation. mrs. clarke had four or five hundred pounds a year of her own, and one child, a daughter, then about fourteen years old. perhaps it was natural that he should remember then, as he did later, the words of the cheerful and forgetful wise man: "i have been young and now am grown old, yet never have i seen the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging bread." from a gloomily fanatical atheist borrow changed to a cheerfully fanatical protestant, described as "of the middle order in society, and a very produceable person." { } he was probably never a good atheist of the reasonable critical type like william taylor, whose thinking was too dull and too difficult for him. above all it was too negative and unrelated to anything but the brain for the man who wrote "lines to six- foot-three" and consorted with gypsies. he had taken atheism along with taylor's literary and linguistic teaching, perhaps with some eagerness at first as a form of protest against conventionally pious and respectable norwich life. the bible society and mrs. clarke and her friends came radiant and benevolent to his "looped and windowed" atheism. they gave him friends and money: they gave him an occupation on which he felt, and afterwards found, that he could spend his hesitating energies. he gathered up all his powers to serve the bible society. he suffered hunger, cold, imprisonment, wounded feet, long hours of indoor labour and long hours of dismal attendance upon inexorable official delay. personally he irritated mr. brandram, the secretary, and his bold and unexpected ways gave the society something to put up with, but he was always a faithful and enthusiastic servant. he had many reasons for being grateful to them. he, who was going to get himself imprisoned for atheism, had already become, as mr. cunningham thought, a man "of certain christian principle," if "of no very exactly defined denomination of christians." he certainly did become an unquestioning wild missionary--though not merely wild, for he was discreet in his boldness; he was careful to save the society money; he made himself respected by the highest english and spanish officials in spain; so that in , for the first time in the society's history, an english ambassador made their cause a national one. he wanted to shout and the bible society gave him something to shout for. he wanted to fight and they gave him something to fight for. twenty years afterwards, in writing the appendix to "the romany rye," he looked back on his travels in spain as on a campaign: "it is true he went to spain with the colours of that society on his hat--oh! the blood glows in his veins! oh! the marrow awakes in his old bones when he thinks of what he accomplished in spain in the cause of religion and civilisation with the colours of that society on his hat, and its weapon in his hand, even the sword of the word of god; how with that weapon he hewed left and right, making the priests fly before him, and run away squeaking: 'vaya! que demonio es este!' ay, and when he thinks of the plenty of bible swords which he left behind him, destined to prove, and which have already proved, pretty calthrops in the heels of popery. 'hallo! batuschca,' he exclaimed the other night, on reading an article in a newspaper; 'what do you think of the present doings in spain? your old friend the zingaro, the gitano who rode about spain, to say nothing of galicia, with the greek buchini behind him as his squire, had a hand in bringing them about; there are many brave spaniards connected with the present movement who took bibles from his hands, and read them and profited by them." he was as sure in as in of the diabolic power and intention of popery, that "unrelenting fiend," whose secrets few, he said, knew more than himself. { a} in the gladness of his now fully exerted powers of body and mind, travelling in wild country and observing and conflicting with men, he adopted not merely the unctuous phraseology of "i am at present, thanks be to the lord, comfortable and happy," { b} but a more attractive religious arrogance. "that i am an associate of gypsies and fortune-tellers i do not deny," he says, "and why should i be ashamed of their company when my master mingled with publicans and thieves." { c} he painted himself as a possible martyr among the wild catholics, a st. stephen. when he suffered at the same time from hardship and the society's disfavour, he exclaimed: "it was god's will that i, who have risked all and lost almost all in the cause, be taunted, suspected, and the sweat of agony and tears which i have poured out be estimated at the value of the water of the ditch or the moisture which exudes from rotten dung. but i murmur not, and hope i shall at all times be willing to bow to the dispensations of the almighty." { d} he exulted in melodramatic nature, in the sublime of salvator rosa, in the desperate, wild, and strange. his very prayers, as reported by himself to the secretary, distressed the society because they were "passionate." true, he could sometimes, under the inspiration of the respectable secretary, write like a perfect middle-class english christian. he condemned the sunday amusements of hamburg, for example, remarking that "england, with all her faults, has still some regard to decency, and will not tolerate such a shameful display of vice" (as rope-dancing) "in so sacred a season, when a decent cheerfulness is the freest form in which the mind or countenance ought to invest themselves." { a} he argued against the translator of the bible into manchu that concessions should not be made to a chinese way of thought, because it was the object of the society to wean the chinese from their own customs and observances, not to encourage them. but the opposite extreme was more congenial to borrow. he would go to the market place in a remote spanish village and display his testaments on the outspread horsecloth, crying: "peasants, peasants, i bring you the word of god at a cheap price." { b} he would disguise himself, travelling with a sack of testaments on his donkey; and when a woman asked if it was soap he had, he answered: "yes; it is soap to wash souls clean." this was the man to understand peter williams, the welsh preacher who had committed the sin against the holy ghost and wandered about preaching and refusing a roof. neither must it be forgotten that this was the man who, in a conversation not reported to the bible society, said: "what befalls my body or soul was written in a _gabicote_ a thousand years before the foundation of the world." borrow was only seven weeks in getting so far as to be able to translate from manchu, though it had been said, as he pointed out, that the language took five or six years to acquire. it cost him an even shorter time to acquire the dialect of his employers, for in less than a month after he had retired to norwich to learn manchu, he was writing thus: "revd. and dear sir,--i have just received your communication, and notwithstanding it is sunday morning, and the bells with their loud and clear voices are calling me to church, i have sat down to answer it by return of post. . . . "return my kind and respected friend, mr. brandram, my best thanks for his present of 'the gypsies' advocate,' and assure him that, next to the acquirement of mandchou, the conversion and enlightening of those interesting people occupy the principal place in my mind. . . . { } never had his linguistic power a greater or more profitable triumph than in this acquisition. as this was probably a dialect not unknown at earlham, norwich, and oulton, among people whom he loved, respected, or beheld successful, the difficulty of the task was a little decreased. thurtell and haggart had passed away, petulengro had not yet reappeared. there was no one to tell him that he was living in a country and an age that were afterwards to appear among the most ignorant and cruel on record. he himself had not yet discovered the "gentility-nonsense," nor did he ever discover that gentility was of the same family, if it was not an albinism of the same species, as pious and oily respectability. so delighted was he with the new dialect that he rolled it on his tongue to the confusion of habitues, who had to rap him over the knuckles for speaking of becoming "useful to the deity, to man, and to himself." in july, , borrow was appointed, with a salary of pounds a year and expenses, to go to st. petersburg, to help in editing a manchu translation of the new testament, or transcribing and collating a translation of the old, accompanied by a warning against "a tone of confidence in speaking of yourself" in such a phrase as "useful to the deity, to man, and to yourself." borrow accepted the correction, and norwich laughed at him in his new suit. at the end of july he sailed, and as at this time he had no objection to gentility he regretted the end of his passage with so many "genteel, well-bred and intelligent passengers," though he had suffered from sea-sickness, followed by "the horrors." st. petersburg he thought the finest of the many capitals he had seen. he made the acquaintance of several men who could help him with their learning and their books, and above all he gained the friendship of john p. hasfeldt, a dane, a little older than himself, who was interpreter to the danish legation and teacher of european languages, evidently a man after borrow's own heart, with his opinion that "the greater part of those products of art, called 'the learned,' would not be able to earn a living if our lord were not a guardian of fools." the copying of the old testament was finished by the end of the year, without having prevented borrow from profiting by his unusual facilities for the acquisition of languages. he had then to superintend, or as it fell out, to help largely with his own hands, the printing of the first manchu translation of the new testament, with type which had first to be cleansed of ten years' rust and with compositors who knew nothing of manchu. lacking almost in time to eat or to sleep he impressed the bible society by his prodigious labours under "the blessing of a kind and gracious providence watching over the execution of a work in which the wide extension of the saviour's glory is involved." he was living cheaply, suffering sometimes from "the horrors," and curing them with port wine--sending money home to his mother, bidding her to employ a maid and to read and "think as much of god as possible." nor was he doing merely what he was bound to do. for example, he translated some of the "homilies of the church of england" into russian and into manchu. he also published in st. petersburg his "targum" and "talisman," a short further collection of translations from pushkin, mickiewicz, and from russian national songs. the work was finished and formally and kindly approved by the bible society. he had proposed long before that he should distribute the books himself, wandering overland with them by lake baikal and kiakhta right to pekin; but the russian government refused a passport. dr. knapp believes that this intention of going among the tartars and overland from russia to pekin was the sole ground for his crediting himself with travels in the far east. in the flesh he had to content himself with a journey to novgorod and moscow. as he had visited the jews at hamburg so he did the gypsies at moscow. this adventure moved him to his first characteristic piece of prose, in a letter to the society. this letter, which was afterwards printed in the "athenaeum," { } and incorporated in "the zincali," mentions the gypsies who have become successful singers and married noblemen, but continues: "it is not, however, to be supposed that all the female gypsies are of this high, talented and respectable order: amongst them are many low and profligate females, who sing at taverns or at the various gardens in the neighbourhood, and whose husbands and male connexions subsist by horse jobbing and like kinds of traffic. the principal place of resort of this class is marina rotche, lying about two versts from moscow, and thither i drove, attended by a _valet de place_. upon my arriving there, the gypsies swarmed out from their tents, and from the little tradeer, or tavern, and surrounded me; standing on the seat of the caleche, i addressed them in a loud voice in the dialect of the english gypsies, with which i have some slight acquaintance. a scream of wonder instantly arose, and welcomes and greetings were poured forth in torrents of musical rommany, amongst which, however, the most prominent air was, 'ah kak mi toute karmama,' 'oh, how we love you'; for at first they supposed me to be one of their brothers, who they said, were wandering about in turkey, china, and other parts, and that i had come over the great pawnee, or water, to visit them. . . . i visited this place several times during my sojourn at moscow, and spoke to them upon their sinful manner of living, upon the advent and suffering of christ jesus, and expressed, upon my taking leave of them, a hope that they would be in a short period furnished with the word of eternal life in their own language, which they seemed to value and esteem much higher than the russian." the tone of this letter suggests that it was meant for the bible society--and a copy was addressed to them--but at this date it is possible to see in it an outline of the gypsy gentleman, very much the gentleman, the "colossal clergyman" of later days. borrow liked the russians, and for some reasons was sorry to leave them and hasfeldt in september, . but for other reasons he was glad. he would see his mother and comfort her for the loss of her elder son in november, , as he had already done to some extent by telling her that he would "endeavour to get ordained." he also would see mrs. clarke, with whom he had been corresponding for the past two years. both she and his mother had been unwilling for him to go to pekin. chapter xviii--the bible society: spain borrow's chief regret at leaving russia was that his active life was interrupted, perhaps at an end. he was dreading the old life of unprofitable study with no complete friends. but luckily, when he had only been a month in england, the bible society resolved to send him to lisbon and oporto, to look for openings for circulating the bible in portugal and perhaps in spain. after this they had thoughts of sending him to china by sea. in november, , he sailed for lisbon. spain was at this time the victim of private quarrels which had been allowed to assume public importance. king ferdinand vii. had twice been restored to an unloving people by foreign, especially english, aid. this king had for heir his brother carlos, until his fourth wife, maria christina, bore him a daughter, isabella, in ; and to secure her succession he set aside the salic law. in he died. isabella ii. was proclaimed queen, and christina regent. christinists and carlists were soon at war, and very bloody war. the english intervened, once diplomatically, once with a foreign legion. the war wavered, with success now to the carlist generals zumalacarregui and cabrera and now to the christinist espartero. there were new prime ministers about twice yearly. the parties were divided amongst themselves, and treachery was common. the only result that could always be foreseen was that the people and the country would suffer. not until did espartero finally defeat cabrera. portugal, in , had just had its eight years of civil war between the partisans of a child--maria ii.--aged seven, and her uncle, miguel, ending in the departure of miguel. borrow made a preliminary journey in the forlorn country and decided for spain instead. escaping the bullets of portuguese soldiers, he crossed the boundary at the beginning of and entered badajoz. there he met the gypsies, and put off his journey to madrid to see more of them and translate the fifteenth chapter of st. luke into their tongue. at merida he stopped again for a gypsy wedding. his guide was the gypsy, antonio lopez, who sold him the donkey which he rode as far as talavera. at madrid his business was to print the new testament in a spanish catholic translation. he had to wait; but with a new cabinet permission was obtained and arrangements for the printing were made. the revolution of la granja, which he describes in "the bible in spain," caused another delay. then, in october, after a visit to the gypsies of granada, he returned to london. he had written long letters to the bible society, and one which was combined and published in the "athenaeum" with that written from moscow. it is dated, madrid, july , , but describes his visit to badajoz on january . he says, on entering badajoz: "i instantly returned thanks to god, who had protected me during a journey of five days through the wilds of the alemtejo, the province of portugal the most infested by robbers and desperate characters, and which i had traversed with no other human companion than a lad, nearly idiotic, who was to convey back the mules which carried myself and luggage." two men were passing him in the street, and seeing the face of one he touched his arm: "i said a certain word, to which, after an exclamation of surprise, he responded in the manner i expected." they were gypsies. he continues: "they left me in haste and went about the town informing the rest that a stranger had arrived who spoke rommany as well as themselves, who had the eyes and face of a gitano, and seemed to be of the 'cratti' or blood. in less than half an hour the street before the inn was filled with the men, women and children of egypt. i went out amongst them, and my heart sank within me as i surveyed them; so much squalidness, dirt and misery i had never before seen amongst a similar number of human beings; but the worst of all was the evil expression of their countenances, denoting that they were familiar with every species of crime, and it was not long before i found that their countenances did not belie them. after they had asked me an infinity of questions, and felt my hands, face, and clothes, they returned to their homes." he stayed with them nearly three weeks, he says; about ten days, says dr. knapp. borrow continues: "the result of my observations was a firm belief that the spanish gitanos are the most vile, degraded and wretched people upon the earth. the great wickedness of these outcasts may, perhaps, be attributed to their having abandoned their wandering life and become inmates of the towns, where, to the original bad traits of their character, they have superadded the evil and vicious habits of the rabble. . . . they listened with admiration, but alas, not of the truths, the eternal truths i was telling them, but at finding that their broken jargon could be written and read; the only words of assent to the heavenly doctrine which i ever obtained, and which were rather of the negative kind, were the following, from a woman--'brother! you tell us strange things, though perhaps you do not lie; a month since i would sooner have believed these tales than that i should this day have seen one who could write rommany.' . . ." he preserves the clergyman, but deepens the gypsy stain. the "athenaeum" was "not at liberty on this occasion" to publish the name of this man whom gypsies called "brother," but apparently it would not be the name of any writer hitherto known to readers of the "athenaeum." he was a month in england, and then left for spain to print and distribute testaments. he had hardly put his feet on spanish soil than, said the marquis of santa colona, { } he "looked round, saw some gypsies lounging there, said something that the marquis could not understand, and immediately 'that man became _une grappe de gitanos_.' they hung round his neck, clung to his knees, seized his hands, kissed his feet, so that the marquis hardly liked to join his comrade again, after such close embraces by so dirty a company." at cordova he was very well received by the gypsies "on the supposition that he was one of their own race." he says in "the gypsies of spain": "as for myself, i was admitted without scruple to their private meetings, and was made a participator of their most secret thoughts. during our intercourse, some remarkable scenes occurred: one night more than twenty of us, men and women, were assembled in a long low room on the ground floor, in a dark alley or court in the old gloomy town of cordova. after the gitanos had discussed several jockey plans, and settled some private bargains amongst themselves, we all gathered round a huge brasero of flaming charcoal, and began conversing _sobre las cosas de egypto_, when i proposed that, as we had no better means of amusing ourselves, we should endeavour to turn into the calo language some piece of devotion, that we might see whether this language, the gradual decay of which i had frequently heard them lament, was capable of expressing any other matters than those which related to horses, mules, and gypsy traffic. it was in this cautious manner that i first endeavoured to divert the attention of these singular people to matters of eternal importance. my suggestion was received with acclamations, and we forthwith proceeded to the translation of the apostle's creed. i first recited in spanish, in the usual manner and without pausing, this noble confession, and then repeated it again, sentence by sentence, the gitanos translating as i proceeded. they exhibited the greatest eagerness and interest in their unwonted occupation, and frequently broke into loud disputes as to the best rendering--many being offered at the same time. in the meanwhile, i wrote down from their dictation, and at the conclusion i read aloud the translation, the result of the united wisdom of the assembly, whereupon they all raised a shout of exultation, and appeared not a little proud of the composition." in his desire to see the gypsies and the ways of the people he more than doubled his difficulties, and suffered from cold and the rudeness of the roads and of the people. but in spite of the internecine civil war he got safe to madrid. printing was begun in , and when copies were ready borrow advertised them and arranged for their distribution. he himself set out with his servant, antonio buchini, a greek of constantinople, who had served an infinity of masters, and once been a cook to the overbearing general cordova, and answered the general's sword with a pistol. they travelled to salamanca, valladolid, leon, astorga, villafranca, lugo, coruna, to santiago, vigo, and again to coruna, to ferrol, oviedo, santander, burgos, valladolid, and so back to madrid in october. he had suffered from fever, dysentery and ophthalmia on the journey. according to dr. knapp it was the most unpropitious country possible. if chosen by anything but ignorance, it must have been by whim and the unconscious desire to delight posterity and amaze dr. knapp. borrow had met, among others, benedict mol, the swiss seeker after treasure hidden in the earth under the church of san roque at st. james' of compostella. this traveller was not his only acquaintance. he formed a friendship at madrid with the spanish scholar, luis de usoz, afterwards editor of "the early spanish reformers," who became a member of the bible society, helped borrow in editing the spanish testament, and looked after his interests while he was away from madrid. at st. james' itself he made a friend and a co-operator of the old bookseller, rey romero, who knew benedict moll. borrow returned to the sale of testaments at madrid, and to his own favourite project of printing his spanish gypsy translation of the gospel of st. luke. to advertise his testaments he posted up and sent about flaming tricoloured placards. this was too much for the moderate government which had followed the liberals: the sale of testaments was stopped, and that for thirty years after. the officials had been irritated by the far graver indiscretions of another but irregular agent of the bible society, lieutenant graydon, r.n., "a fervid irish protestant." { } apparently this man had advertised bibles in valencia as to be sold at very low prices and even given away; had printed abuse of the spanish clergy and government, and had described himself as co- operating with borrow. except at madrid, the bibles and testaments in borrow's depots throughout spain were seized by the government. the books had at last to be sent out of the country, british consuls were forbidden to countenance religious agents; and in the opinion of the consul at seville, j. m. brackenbury, this was directly due to graydon's indiscretions. the society were kind to him. they cautioned him not to attack popery, but to leave the bible to speak for itself. the caution was vain, but in spite of the harm done to borrow and themselves they recalled graydon with but a qualified disavowal of his conduct. borrow did not conceal from the society his opinion that this man, with his "lunatic vagaries," had been the "evil genius" of the bible cause and of himself. the incident did no good to the already bickering relations between borrow and the rev. a. brandram, the secretary. evidently borrow's character jarred upon brandram, who took revenge by a tone of facetious cavil and several criticisms upon borrow's ways, upon his confident masculine tone, for example, his "passionate" prayer, and his confession of superstitious obedience to an ominous dream. brandram even took the trouble to remind borrow that when it came to distribution in russia his success had ended: which was true but not through any fault of his. borrow took the criticism as if applied to his spanish work also, saying: "it was unkind and unjust to taunt me with having been unsuccessful in distributing the scriptures. allow me to state that no other person under the same circumstances would have distributed the tenth part. yet had i been utterly unsuccessful, it would have been wrong to charge me with being so, after all i have undergone--and with how little of that are you acquainted." { } if borrow had been as revengeful as dr. knapp believed him, he would not have allowed brandram to escape an immortality of hate in "lavengro" or "the romany rye." borrow irritated the spanish government yet a little more by issuing his gypsy "luke," and in may, , he was illegally imprisoned in the _carcel de corte_, where he insisted upon staying until he was set free with honour and the payment of his expenses. he vindicated his position by a letter to a newspaper, pointing out that his society was neither sectarian nor political, and that he was their sole authorised agent. this led directly to the breaking of his connection with the bible society, who reprimanded him for his letter and virtually recalled him from spain. nevertheless borrow made a series of excursions into the country to sell his testaments, until in august he was definitely recalled. he returned to england, as he says himself, for "change of scene and air" after an attack of fever. he obtained a new lease from the bible society and was back in spain at the end of . early in he made further excursions with antonio lopez to sell his testaments, until he had to stop. thereupon he went to seville. he was still forming plans on behalf of the society. he wished to go to la mancha, the worst part of spain, then through saragossa and into france. at seville it was, in may, , that colonel napier met him. nobody knew who, or of what nationality, he was--this "mysterious unknown," the white-haired young man, with dark eyes of almost supernatural penetration and lustre, who gave himself out to be thirty instead of thirty-five, who spoke english, french, italian, spanish, german, and romaic to those who best understood these languages. borrow and napier rode out together to the ruins of italica: "we sat down," he says, "on a fragment of the walls; the "unknown" began to feel the vein of poetry creeping through his inward soul, and gave vent to it by reciting, with great emphasis and effect, the following well-known and beautiful lines: "cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower, grown matted and massed together, hillocks heap'd on what were chambers, arch crush'd, column strown in fragments, choked up vaults, and frescoes steep'd in subterranean damps, where the owl peep'd, deeming it midnight:--temples, baths, or halls-- pronounce who can; for all that learning reap'd from her research hath been, that these are walls." "i had been too much taken up with the scene, the verses, and the strange being who was repeating them with so much feeling, to notice the approach of a slight female figure, beautiful in the extreme, but whose tattered garments, raven hair, swarthy complexion, and flashing eyes, proclaimed her to be of the wandering tribe of gitanos. from an intuitive sense of politeness she stood with crossed arms and a slight smile on her dark and handsome countenance, until my companion had ceased, and then addressed us in the usual whining tone of supplication--'gentlemen, a little charity; god will repay it to you!' the gypsy girl was so pretty and her voice so sweet, that i involuntarily put my hand in my pocket. "'stop!' said the 'unknown.' 'do you remember what i told you of the eastern origin of these people? you shall see i am correct.' 'come here, my pretty child,' said he in moultanee, 'and tell me where are the rest of your tribe.' the girl looked astounded, and replied in the same tongue, but in broken language; when, taking him by the arm, she said in spanish: 'come, caballero, come to one who will be able to answer you'; and she led the way down among the ruins towards one of the dens formerly occupied by the wild beasts, and disclosed to us a set of beings scarcely less savage. the sombre walls of this gloomy abode were illumined by a fire, the smoke from which escaped through a deep fissure in the mossy roof, whilst the flickering flames threw a blood-red glare on the bronzed features of a group of children, two men, and a decrepit old hag who appeared busily engaged in some culinary operations. "on our entrance, the scowling glance of the males of the party, and a quick motion of the hand towards the folds of the faja (where the clasp- knife is concealed), caused in me, at least, anything but a comfortable sensation; but their hostile intentions were immediately removed by a wave of the hand from our conductress, who, leading my companion towards the sibyl, whispered something in her ear. the old crone appeared incredulous. the 'unknown' uttered one word; but that word had the effect of magic. she prostrated herself at his feet, and in an instant, from an object of suspicion, he became one of worship to the whole family, to whom on taking leave he made a handsome present, and departed with their united blessings. "i was, as the phrase goes, dying with curiosity, and as soon as we mounted our horses, exclaimed: 'where, in the name of goodness, did you pick up your acquaintance with the language of these extraordinary people?' 'some years ago, in moultan,' he replied. 'and by what means do you possess such apparent influence over them?' but the 'unknown' had already said more than he perhaps wished on the subject. he dryly replied that he had more than once owed his life to gypsies and had reason to know them well; but this was said in a tone which precluded all further queries on my part." this report is a wonderful testimony to borrow's power, for he seems to have made the colonel write almost like himself and produce a picture exactly like those which he so often draws of himself. from seville borrow took a journey of a few weeks to tangier and barbary. there he met the strongest man in tangier, one of the old moors of granada, who waved a barrel of water over his head as if it had been a quart pot. there he and his jewish servant, hayim ben attar, sold testaments, and, says he, "with humble gratitude to the lord," the blessed book was soon in the hands of most of the christians in tangier. but with an account of his first day in the city he concluded "the bible in spain." when he was back again in seville he had the society of mrs. clarke and her daughter; henrietta, who had come to spain to avoid some legal difficulties and presumably to see borrow. before the end of the engagement of borrow and mrs. clarke was announced without surprising old mrs. borrow at norwich. in november borrow wrote almost his last long letter to the bible society. he had the advantage of a singular address, being for the moment in the prison of seville, where he had been illegally thrown, after a quarrel with the alcalde over the matter of a passport. he told them how this "ruffian" quailed before his gaze of defiance. he told them how well he was treated by his fellow prisoners: {picture: the summer house, oulton cottage. photo: c. wilson, lowestoft: page .jpg} "the black-haired man who is now looking over my shoulder is the celebrated thief palacio, the most expert housebreaker and dexterous swindler in spain--in a word, the modern guzman dalfarache. the brawny man who sits by the brasero of charcoal, is salvador, the highwayman of ronda, who has committed a hundred murders. a fashionably dressed man, short and slight in person, is walking about the room: he wears immense whiskers and mustachios; he is one of that most singular race of jews of spain; he is imprisoned for counterfeiting money. he is an atheist, but like a true jew, the name which he most hates is that of christ: . . ." { } so well did borrow choose his company, even in prison. some of his letters to the society went astray at this time and he was vainly expected in england. he was able to send them a very high testimony to his discretion from the english consul at seville, and he himself reminded them that he had been "fighting with wild beasts" during this last visit. the society several times repeated his recall, but he did not return, apparently because he wished to remain with mrs. clarke in seville, and because he no longer felt himself at their beck and call. he was also at work on "the gypsies of spain." nevertheless he wrote to the society in march, , a letter which would have been remarkable from another man about to marry a wife, for he said that he wished to spend the remaining years of his life in the northern parts of china, as he thought he had a call, and still hoped "to die in the cause of my redeemer." in april he left spain with mrs. and miss clarke. fifty or sixty years later mrs. joseph pennell "saw the sign, 'g. borrow, agent of the british and foreign bible society,' high upon a house in the plaza de la constitucion, in seville." borrow was never again in spain. after reporting himself for the last time to the society, and making a suggestion which brandram answered by saying, "the door seems shut," he married mrs. clarke on april , . she had pounds a year and a home at oulton. fifteen or sixteen years later he spoke of his wife and daughter thus: "of my wife i will merely say that she is a perfect paragon of wives--can make puddings and sweets and treacle posset, and is the best woman of business in eastern anglia--of my step daughter--for such she is, though i generally call her daughter, and with good reason, seeing that she has always shown herself a daughter to me--that she has all kinds of good qualities, and several accomplishments, knowing something of conchology, more of botany, drawing capitally in the dutch style, and playing remarkably well on the guitar--not the trumpery german thing so called--but the real spanish guitar." his wife wrote letters for him, copied his manuscripts, and helped to correct his proofs. she remained at oulton, or yarmouth, while he went about; if he went to wales or ireland she sometimes accompanied him to a convenient centre and there remained while he did as he pleased. she admired him, and she appears to have become essential to his life, apart from her income, and not to have resented her position at any time, though grieved by his unconcealed melancholy. a second time he praised her in print, saying that he had an exceedingly clever wife, and allowed her "to buy and sell, carry money to the bank, draw cheques, inspect and pay tradesmen's bills, and transact all my real business, whilst i myself pore over old books, walk about the shires, discoursing with gypsies, under hedgerows, or with sober bards--in hedge alehouses." chapter xix--"the zincali" borrow and his wife and stepdaughter settled at oulton cottage before the spring of was over. this house, the property of mrs. borrow, was separated from oulton broad only by a slope of lawn, at the foot of which was a private boat. away from the house, but equally near lawn and water stood borrow's library--a little peaked octagonal summer house, with toplights and windows. the cottage is gone, but the summer house, now mantled with ivy, where he wrote "the bible in spain" and "lavengro," is still to be seen. here, too, he arranged and completed the book written "at considerable intervals during a period of nearly five years passed in spain--in moments snatched from more important pursuits--chiefly in ventas and posadas (inns), whilst wandering through the country in the arduous and unthankful task of distributing the gospel among its children,"--"the zincali: or the gypsies of spain." it was published in april, . this book is a description of gypsies in spain and wherever else he has met them, with some history, and, as borrow says himself, with "more facts than theories." it abounds in quotations from out of the way spanish books, but was by far "less the result of reading than of close observation." it is patched together from scattered notes with little order or proportion, and cannot be regarded as a whole either in intention or effect. nor is this wholly due to the odd times and places in which it was written. borrow had never before written a continuous original work of any length. he had formed no clear idea of himself, his public, or his purpose. personality was strong in him and it had to be expressed. he was full also of extraordinary observation, and this he could not afford to conceal. it was not easy to satisfy the two needs in one coherent book; he hardly tried, and he certainly did not succeed. ford described it well in his review of "the bible in spain": { } "'the gypsies of spain' was a spanish olla--a hotchpotch of the jockey tramper, philologist, and missionary. it was a thing of shreds and patches--a true book of spain; the chapters, like her bundle of unamalgamating provinces, were just held together, and no more, by the common tie of religion; yet it was strange and richly flavoured with genuine _borracha_. it was the first work of a diffident, inexperienced man, who, mistrusting his own powers, hoped to conciliate critics by leaning on spanish historians and gypsy poets." nevertheless, "the zincali" is a book that is still valuable for these two separate elements of personality and extraordinary observation. probably borrow, his publisher, and the public, regarded it chiefly as a work of information, picturesquely diversified, and this it still is, though the increase and systematization of gypsy studies are said to have superseded it. a book of spirit cannot be superseded. but pure information does not live long, and the fact that its information is inaccurate or incomplete does not rot a book like "the compleat angler" or the "georgics." thus it may happen that the first book on a subject is the best, and its successors mere treatises destined to pave the way for other treatises. "the gypsies of spain" is still read as no other book on the gypsy is read. it is still read, not only by those just infected with gypsy fever, but by men as men. it does not, indeed, survive as a whole, because it never was a whole, but there is a spirit in the best parts sufficiently strong to carry the reader on over the rest. to-day very few will do more than smile when borrow says of the gypsies, that there can be no doubt "they are human beings and have immortal souls," and that the chief object of his book is to "draw the attention of the christian philanthropist towards them, especially that degraded and unhappy portion of them, the gitanos of spain." in many of the christian public probably felt a slight glow of satisfaction at starting on a book that brought the then certain millenium, of a christian and english cast, definitely nearer. probably they liked to know that this missionary called pugilistic combats "disgraceful and brutalising exhibitions"; and they were almost as certainly, as we are to-day, delighted with the descriptions that followed, because it brought for the first time clearly before them a real prize-fighting scene, and the author, a terrible child of fourteen, looking on--"why should i hide the truth?" says he. this excellent moral tone accompanied the reader of with satisfaction to the end. for example, borrow describes the gypsies at tarifa swindling a country man and woman out of their donkey. when he sees them being treated and fondled by their intending robbers, he exclaims: "behold, poor humanity, thought i to myself, in the hands of devils; in this manner are human souls ensnared to destruction by the fiends of the pit." when he sees them departing penniless and without their donkey, the woman bitterly lamenting it, he comments: "upon the whole, however, i did not much pity them. the woman was certainly not the man's wife. the labourer had probably left his village with some strolling harlot, bringing with him the animal which had previously served to support himself and a family." borrow was a man who pronounced the bible to be "the wonderful book which is capable of resolving every mystery." he was a man, furthermore, who called sorcery simply "a thing impossible," and thus addressed a writer on chiromancy: "we . . . believe that the lines of the hand have as little connection with the events of life as with the liver and stomach, notwithstanding aristotle, who you forget was a heathen and cared as little for the scriptures as the gitanos, whether male or female." another satisfactory side to borrow's public character, as revealed in "the zincali," was his contempt for "other nations," such as spain--"a country whose name has long and justly been considered as synonymous with every species of ignorance and barbarism." his voice rises when he says that "avarice has always been the dominant passion in spanish minds, their rage for money being only to be compared to the wild hunger of wolves for horseflesh in the time of winter; next to avarice, envy of superior talent and accomplishment is the prevailing passion." these were the people whom he had gone to convert. his contempt for those who were not middle-class englishmen seemed unmitigated. speaking of the gypsies, to whom the schools were open and the laws kinder, he points out that, nevertheless, they remain jockeys and blacksmiths, though it is true they have in part given up their wandering life. but "much," he says, "will have been accomplished if, after the lapse of a hundred years, one hundred human beings shall have been evolved from the gypsy stock who shall prove sober, honest, and useful members of society," _i.e._, resembling the spaniards whom he so condemned. but if men love a big fellow at the street corner bellowing about sin and the wrath to come, they love him better if he was a black sinner before he became white as the driven snow. borrow reprimanded spaniard and gypsy, but he also knew them: there is even a suspicion that he liked them, though in his public black-coated capacity he had to condemn them and regret that their destiny was perdition. had he not said, in his preface, that he had known the gypsies for twenty years and that they treated him well because they thought him a gypsy? and in another place referred to the time when he lived with the english gypsies? had he not, in his introductions, spoken of "my brethren, the smiths," a phrase then cryptic and only to be explained by revealing his sworn brotherhood with ambrose smith, the jasper petulengro of later books? he had said, moreover, in a perfectly genuine tone, with no trace of missionary declamation: "after the days of the great persecution in england against the gypsies, there can be little doubt that they lived a right merry and tranquil life, wandering about and pitching their tents wherever inclination led them: indeed, i can scarcely conceive any human condition more enviable than gypsy life must have been in england during the latter part of the seventeenth, and the whole of the eighteenth century, which were likewise the happy days for englishmen in general; there was peace and plenty in the land, a contented population, and everything went well." if a man wishes to condemn the seven deadly sins we tolerate him if in the process they are sufficiently well described. if borrow described the tinker family as wretched, and their donkey as miserable, he added, "though life, seemingly so wretched, has its charms for these outcasts, who live without care and anxiety, without a thought beyond the present hour, and who sleep as sound in ruined posadas and ventas, or in ravines amongst rocks and pines, as the proudest grandee in his palace at seville or madrid." if he condemned superstition, he yet thought it possibly "founded on a physical reality"; he regarded the moon as the true "evil eye," and bade men "not sleep uncovered beneath the smile of the moon, for her glance is poisonous, and produces insupportable itching in the eye, and not infrequently blindness." if he believed in the immortality of the soul, he did not disdain to know the vendor of poisons who was a gypsy. if he stayed three weeks in badajoz because he knew he should never meet any people "more in need of a little christian exhortation" than the gypsies, he did not fill his pages with three weeks of christian exhortation, but told the story of the gypsy soldier, antonio--how he recognised as a gypsy the enemy who was about to kill him, and saved himself from the uplifted bayonet by crying "zincalo, zincalo!" and then, having been revived by him, sat for hours with his late enemy, who said: "let the dogs fight and tear each other's throats till they are all destroyed, what matters it to the zincali? they are not of our blood, and shall that be shed for them?" this man who, if he had his way, would have washed his face in the blood of the busne (those who are not gypsies), this man called borrow "brother!" if borrow distributed testaments, he knew little more of the recipients than a bolt from the blue, or if he did he cared to tell but little. that little is the story of the gypsy soldier, chaleco, who came to him at madrid in with a copy of the testament. he told his story from his cradle up; he imposed himself on borrow's hospitality, eating "like a wolf of the sierra," and drinking in proportion. borrow could only escape from him by dining out. when borrow was imprisoned the fellow drew his sword at the news and vowed to murder the prime minister "for having dared to imprison his brother." in what follows, borrow reveals in a consummate manner his power of drawing into his vicinity extraordinary events: "on my release, i did not revisit my lodgings for some days, but lived at an hotel. i returned late one afternoon, with my servant francisco, a basque of hernani, who had served me with the utmost fidelity during my imprisonment, which he had voluntarily shared with me. the first person i saw on entering was the gypsy soldier, seated by the table, whereon were several bottles of wine which he had ordered from the tavern, of course on my account. he was smoking, and looked savage and sullen; perhaps he was not much pleased with the reception he had experienced. he had forced himself in, and the woman of the house sat in a corner looking upon him with dread. i addressed him, but he would scarcely return an answer. at last he commenced discoursing with great volubility in gypsy and latin. i did not understand much of what he said. his words were wild and incoherent, but he repeatedly threatened some person. the last bottle was now exhausted--he demanded more. i told him in a gentle manner that he had drunk enough. he looked on the ground for some time, then slowly, and somewhat hesitatingly, drew his sword and laid it on the table. it was become dark. i was not afraid of the fellow, but i wished to avoid any thing unpleasant. i called to francisco to bring lights, and obeying a sign which i made him, he sat down at the table. the gypsy glared fiercely upon him--francisco laughed, and began with great glee to talk in basque, of which the gypsy understood not a word. the basques, like all tartars, and such they are, are paragons of fidelity and good nature; they are only dangerous when outraged, when they are terrible indeed. francisco to the strength of a giant joined the disposition of a lamb. he was beloved even in the patio of the prison, where he used to pitch the bar and wrestle with the murderers and felons, always coming off victor. he continued speaking basque. the gypsy was incensed; and, forgetting the languages in which, for the last hour, he had been speaking, complained to francisco of his rudeness in speaking any tongue but castilian. the basque replied by a loud carcajada, and slightly touched the gypsy on the knee. the latter sprang up like a mine discharged, seized his sword, and, retreating a few steps, made a desperate lunge at francisco. "the basques, next to the pasiegos, are the best cudgel-players in spain, and in the world. francisco held in his hand part of a broomstick, which he had broken in the stable, whence he had just ascended. with the swiftness of lightning he foiled the stroke of chaleco, and, in another moment, with a dexterous blow, struck the sword out of his hand, sending it ringing against the wall. "the gypsy resumed his seat and his cigar. he occasionally looked at the basque. his glances were at first atrocious, but presently changed their expression, and appeared to me to become prying and eagerly curious. he at last arose, picked up his sword, sheathed it, and walked slowly to the door, when there he stopped, turned round, advanced close to francisco, and looked him steadfastly in the face. 'my good fellow,' said he, 'i am a gypsy, and can read baji. do you know where you will be this time to- morrow?' { } then laughing like a hyena, he departed, and i never saw him again. "at that time on the morrow, francisco was on his death-bed. he had caught the jail fever, which had long raged in the carcel de la corte, where i was imprisoned. in a few days he was buried, a mass of corruption, in the campo santo of madrid." having attracted the event, he recorded it with a vividness well set off by his own nonchalance. again and again he was to repeat this triumph of depicting the wild, and the wild in a condition of activity and often fury. his success is all the greater because it is unexpected. he sets out "to direct the attention of the public towards the gypsies; but he hopes to be able to do so without any romantic appeals on their behalf." he is far from having a romantic tone. he wields, as a rule, with any amount of dignity the massive style of the early victorian "quarterly review" and lane's so-called "arabian nights." thus, speaking of gypsy fortune- tellers, he says: "their practice chiefly lies among females, the portion of the human race most given to curiosity and credulity." sentences like this always remind me of lord melbourne's indignation at the thought of religion intruding on private life. his indignation is obviously of the same period as the sentence: "among the zingari are not a few who deal in precious stones, and some who vend poisons; and the most remarkable individual whom it has been my fortune to encounter amongst the gypsies, whether of the eastern or western world, was a person who dealt in both these articles." a style like this resembles a paunchy man who can be relied on not to pick the daisies. at times borrow writes as if he were translating, as in "the anvil rings beneath the thundering stroke, hour succeeds hour, and still endures the hard sullen toil." he adds a little vanity of no value by a biblical echo now and again, as in the clause: "and it came to pass, moreover, that the said fajardo . . . " or in "and the chief of that camp, even mr. petulengro, stood before the encampment. . . ." this is a style for information, instruction, edification, and intervals of sleep. it is the style of an age, a class, a sect, not of an individual. deeds and not words are what count in it. only by big, wild, or extraordinary things can it be compelled to a semblance of life. borrow gives it such things a hundred times, and they help one another to be effective. the reader does not forget the gypsies of granada: "many of them reside in caves scooped in the sides of the ravines which lead to the higher regions of the alpujarras, on a skirt of which stands granada. a common occupation of the gitanos of granada is working in iron, and it is not infrequent to find these caves tenanted by gypsy smiths and their families, who ply the hammer and forge in the bowels of the earth. to one standing at the mouth of the cave, especially at night, they afford a picturesque spectacle. gathered round the forge, their bronzed and naked bodies, illuminated by the flame, appear like figures of demons; while the cave, with its flinty sides and uneven roof, blackened by the charcoal vapours which hover about it in festoons, seems to offer no inadequate representation of fabled purgatory." the picture of the gitana of seville hands on some of its own power to the quieter pages, and at length, with a score of other achievements of the same solid kind, kindles well-nigh every part of the shapeless book. i shall quote it at length: "if there be one being in the world who, more than another, deserves the title of sorceress (and where do you find a word of greater romance and more thrilling interest?), it is the gypsy female in the prime and vigour of her age and ripeness of her understanding--the gipsy wife, the mother of two or three children. mention to me a point of devilry with which that woman is not acquainted. she can at any time, when it suits her, show herself as expert a jockey as her husband, and he appears to advantage in no other character, and is only eloquent when descanting on the merits of some particular animal; but she can do much more; she is a prophetess, though she believes not in prophecy; she is a physician, though she will not taste her own philters; she is a procuress, though she is not to be procured; she is a singer of obscene songs, though she will suffer no obscene hands to touch her; and though no one is more tenacious of the little she possesses, she is a cutpurse and a shoplifter whenever opportunity shall offer. . . . observe, for example, the gitana, even her of seville. "she is standing before the portals of a large house in one of the narrow moorish streets of the capital of andalusia; through the grated iron door, she looks in upon the court; it is paved with small marble slabs of almost snowy whiteness; in the middle is a fountain distilling limpid water, and all around there is a profusion of macetas, in which flowering plants and aromatic shrubs are growing, and at each corner there is an orange tree, and the perfume of the azahar may be distinguished; you hear the melody of birds from a small aviary beneath the piazza which surrounds the court, which is surrounded by a toldo or linen awning, for it is the commencement of may, and the glorious sun of andalusia is burning with a splendour too intense for its rays to be borne with impunity. it is a fairy scene such as nowhere meets the eye but at seville, or perhaps at fez and shiraz, in the palaces of the sultan and the shah. the gypsy looks through the iron-grated door, and beholds, seated near the fountain, a richly dressed dame and two lovely delicate maidens; they are busied at their morning's occupation, intertwining with their sharp needles the gold and silk on the tambour; several female attendants are seated behind. the gypsy pulls the bell, when is heard the soft cry of 'quien es'; the door, unlocked by means of a string, recedes upon its hinges, when in walks the gitana, the witch-wife of multan, with a look such as the tiger-cat casts when she stealeth from her jungle into the plain. "yes, well may you exclaim, 'ave maria purissima,' ye dames and maidens of seville, as she advances towards you; she is not of yourselves, she is not of your blood, she or her fathers have walked to your clime from a distance of three thousand leagues. she has come from the far east, like the three enchanted kings to cologne; but unlike them she and her race have come with hate and not with love. she comes to flatter, and to deceive, and to rob, for she is a lying prophetess, and a she-thug; she will greet you with blessings which will make your heart rejoice, but your heart's blood would freeze, could you hear the curses which to herself she murmurs against you; for she says, that in her children's veins flows the dark blood of the 'husbands,' whilst in those of yours flows the pale tide of the 'savages,' and therefore she would gladly set her foot on all your corses first poisoned by her hands. for all her love--and she can love--is for the romas; and all her hate--and who can hate like her?--is for the busnees; for she says that the world would be a fair world were there no busnees, and if the romamiks could heat their kettles undisturbed at the foot of the olive trees; and therefore she would kill them all if she could and if she dared. she never seeks the houses of the busnees but for the purpose of prey; for the wild animals of the sierra do not more abhor the sight of man than she abhors the countenances of the busnees. she now comes to prey upon you and to scoff at you. will you believe her words? fools! do you think that the being before ye has any sympathy for the like of you? "she is of the middle stature, neither strongly nor slightly built, and yet her every movement denotes agility and vigour. as she stands erect before you, she appears like a falcon about to soar, and you are almost tempted to believe that the power of volation is hers; and were you to stretch forth your hand to seize her, she would spring above the house- tops like a bird. her face is oval, and her features are regular but somewhat hard and coarse, for she was born amongst rocks in a thicket, and she has been wind-beaten and sun-scorched for many a year, even like her parents before her; there is many a speck upon her cheek, and perhaps a scar, but no dimples of love; and her brow is wrinkled over, though she is yet young. her complexion is more than dark, for it is almost that of a mulatto; and her hair, which hangs in long locks on either side of her face, is black as coal, and coarse as the tail of a horse, from which it seems to have been gathered. "there is no female eye in seville can support the glance of hers, so fierce and penetrating, and yet so artful and sly, is the expression of their dark orbs; her mouth is fine and almost delicate, and there is not a queen on the proudest throne between madrid and moscow who might not, and would not, envy the white and even rows of teeth which adorn it, which seem not of pearl but of the purest elephant's bone of multan. she comes not alone; a swarthy two-year old bantling clasps her neck with one arm, its naked body half extant from the coarse blanket which, drawn round her shoulders, is secured at her bosom by a skewer. though tender of age it looks wicked and sly, like a veritable imp of roma. huge rings of false gold dangle from wide slits in the lobes of her ears; her nether garments are rags, and her feet are cased in hempen sandals. such is the wandering gitana, such is the witch-wife of multan, who has come to spae the fortune of the sevillian countess and her daughters. "'o may the blessing of egypt light upon your head, you high-born lady! (may an evil end overtake your body, daughter of a busnee harlot!) and may the same blessing await the two fair roses of the nile here flowering by your side! (may evil moors seize them and carry them across the water!) o listen to the words of the poor woman who is come from a distant country; she is of a wise people, though it has pleased the god of the sky to punish them for their sins by sending them to wander through the world. they denied shelter to the majari, whom you call the queen of heaven, and to the son of god, when they flew to the land of egypt, before the wrath of the wicked king; it is said that they even refused them a draught of the sweet waters of the great river when the blessed two were athirst. o you will say that it was a heavy crime; and truly so it was, and heavily has the lord punished the egyptians. he has sent us a-wandering, poor as you see, with scarcely a blanket to cover us. o blessed lady (accursed be thy dead as many as thou mayest have), we have no money to purchase us bread; we have only our wisdom with which to support ourselves and our poor hungry babes; when god took away their silks from the egyptians, and their gold from the egyptians, he left them their wisdom as a resource that they might not starve. o who can read the stars like the egyptians? and who can read the lines of the palm like the egyptians? the poor woman read in the stars that there was a rich ventura for all of this goodly house, so she followed the bidding of the stars and came to declare it. o blessed lady (i defile thy dead corse), your husband is at granada, fighting with king ferdinand against the wild corahai! (may an evil ball smite him and split his head!) within three months he shall return with twenty captive moors, round the neck of each a chain of gold. (god grant that when he enter the house a beam may fall upon him and crush him!) and within nine months after his return god shall bless you with a fair chabo, the pledge for which you have sighed so long! (accursed be the salt placed in its mouth in the church when it is baptized!) your palm, blessed lady, your palm, and the palms of all i see here, that i may tell you all the rich ventura which is hanging over this good house; (may evil lightning fall upon it and consume it!) but first let me sing you a song of egypt, that the spirit of the chowahanee may descend more plenteously upon the poor woman.' "her demeanour now instantly undergoes a change. hitherto she has been pouring forth a lying and wild harangue, without much flurry or agitation of manner. her speech, it is true, has been rapid, but her voice has never been raised to a very high key; but she now stamps on the ground, and placing her hands on her hips, she moves quickly to the right and left, advancing and retreating in a sidelong direction. her glances become more fierce and fiery, and her coarse hair stands erect on her head, stiff as the prickles of the hedgehog; and now she commences clapping her hands, and uttering words of an unknown tongue, to a strange and uncouth tune. the tawny bantling seems inspired with the same fiend, and, foaming at the mouth, utters wild sounds, in imitation of its dam. still more rapid become the sidelong movements of the gitana. movements! she springs, she bounds, and at every bound she is a yard above the ground. she no longer bears the child in her bosom; she plucks it from thence, and fiercely brandishes it aloft, till at last, with a yell, she tosses it high into the air, like a ball, and then, with neck and head thrown back, receives it, as it falls, on her hands and breast, extracting a cry from the terrified beholders. is it possible she can be singing? yes, in the wildest style of her people; and here is a snatch of the song, in the language of roma, which she occasionally screams: "en los sastos de yesque plai me diquelo, doscusanas de sonacai terelo,-- corojai diquelo abillar, y ne asislo chapescar, chapescar." "on the top of a mountain i stand, with a crown of red gold in my hand,-- wild moors come trooping o'er the lea, o how from their fury shall i flee, flee, flee? o how from their fury shall i flee? such was the gitana in the days of ferdinand and isabella, and much the same is she now in the days of isabel and christina. . . ." here, it is true, there is a substantial richly-coloured and strange subject matter, such as could hardly be set down in any way or by anyone without attracting the attention. borrow makes it do more than this. the word "extant" may offend a little, but the writer can afford many such blemishes, for he has life in his pen. he is, as it were himself substantial, richly-coloured, strange and with big strokes and splashes he suggests the thing itself. there have been writers since borrow's day who have thought to use words so subtly that they are equivalent to things, but in the end their words remain nothing but words. borrow uses language like a man, and we forget his words on account of the vividness of the things which they do not so much create as evoke. i do not mean that it can be called unconscious art, for it is naively conscious and delighting in itself. the language is that of an orator, a man standing up and addressing a mass in large and emphatic terms. he succeeds not only in evoking things that are very much alive, but in suggesting an artist that is their equal, instead of one, who like so many more refined writers, is a more or less pathetic admirer of living things. in this he resembles byron. it may not be the highest form of art, but it is the most immediate and disturbing and genial in its effect. finally, the whole book has body. it can be browsed on. it does not ask a particular mood, being itself the result of no one mood, but of a great part of one man's life. turn over half a dozen pages and a story, or a picture, or a bit of costume, or of superstition, will invariably be the reward. it reads already like a book rather older than it really is, but not because it has faded. there was nothing in it to fade, being too hard, massive and unvarnished. it remains alive, capable of surviving the gypsies except in so far as they live within it and its fellow books. chapter xx--"the bible in spain" in "the zincali" borrow used some of his private notes and others supplied by spanish friends, together with parts of letters to the bible society. it used to be supposed that "the bible in spain" was made up almost entirely from these letters. but this has now been disproved by the newly published "letters of george borrow to the bible society." { a} these letters are about half the length of "the bible in spain," and yet only about a third part of them was used by borrow in writing that book. some of his letters were never received by the society and had probably been lost on the way. but this was more of a disaster to the society than to borrow. he kept journals { b} from which his letters were probably copied or composed; and he was able, for example, in july, , to send the society a detailed and dated account of his entry into spain in january, and his intercourse with the gypsies of badajoz. it is also possible that the letters lent to him by the society were far more numerous than those returned by him. he missed little that could have been turned to account, unless it was the suggestion that if he knew the country his safest way from seville to madrid was to go afoot in the dress of beggar or gypsy, and the remark that in tangier one of his principal associates was a black slave, whose country was only three days journey from timbuctoo. { c} he had already in planned to write "a small volume" on what he was about to see and hear in spain, and it must have been from notes or full journals kept with this view that he drew for "the zincali" and still more for "the bible in spain." he wrote his journals and letters very much as cobbett his "rural rides," straight after days in the saddle. except when he was presenting a matter of pure business he was not much troubled by the fact that he was addressing his employers, the bible society. he did not always begin "bible" with a capital b, an error corrected by mr. darlow, his editor. he prefixed "revd. and dear sir," and thought little more about them unless to add such a phrase as: "a fact which i hope i may be permitted to mention with gladness and with decent triumph in the lord." he did not, however, scorn to make a favourable misrepresentation of his success, as for example in the interview with mendizabal, which was reduced probably to the level of the facts in its book form. the society were not always pleased with his frankness and confidence, and the secretary complained of things which were inconvenient to be read aloud in a pious assembly, less concerned with sinners than with repentance, and not easily convinced by the improbable. he sent them, for example, after a specimen gypsy translation of the gospel of st. luke and of the lord's prayer, "sixteen specimens of the horrid curses in use amongst the spanish gypsies," with translations into english. these do not re-appear either in "the bible in spain" or in the edition of borrow's letters to the society. he spared them, apparently, the story of benedict moll and many another good thing that was meant for mankind. i should be inclined to think that a very great part of "the bible in spain" was written as the letters were, on the spot. either it was not sent to the society for fear of loss, or if copied and sent to them, it was lost on the way or never returned by borrow after he had used it in writing the book, for the letters are just as careful in most parts as the book, and the book is just as fresh as the letters. when he wrote to the society, he said that he told the schoolmaster "the almighty would never have inspired his saints with a desire to write what was unintelligible to the great mass of mankind"; in "the bible in spain" he said: "it [_i.e._, the bible] would never have been written if not calculated by itself to illume the minds of all classes of mankind." continuous letters or journals would be more likely to suit borrow's purpose than notes such as he took in his second tour to wales and never used. notes made on the spot are very likely to be disproportionate, to lay undue stress on something that should be allowed to recede, and would do so if left to memory; and once made they are liable to misinterpretation if used after intervals of any length. but the flow and continuity of letters insist on some proportion and on truth at least to the impression of the day, and a balance is ensured between the scene or the experience on the one hand and the observer on the other. "the zincali" was not published before borrow realised what a treasure he had deposited with the bible society, and not long afterwards he obtained the loan of his letters to make a new book on his travels in spain. borrow's own account, in his preface to the second edition of "the zincali," is that the success of that book, and "the voice not only of england but of the greater part of europe" proclaiming it, astonished him in his "humble retreat" at oulton. he was, he implies, inclined to be too much elated. then the voice of a critic--whom we know to have been richard ford--told him not to believe all he heard, but to try again and avoid all his second hand stuff, his "gypsy poetry, dry laws, and compilations from dull spanish authors." and so, he says, he began work in the winter, but slowly, and on through summer and autumn and another winter, and into another spring and summer, loitering and being completely idle at times, until at last he went to his summer house daily and finished the book. but as a matter of fact "the zincali" had no great success in either public or literary esteem, and ford's criticism was passed on the manuscript, not the printed book. borrow and his wife took about six months to prepare the letters for publication as a book. he took great pains with the writing and only worked when he was in the mood. his health was not quite good, as he implies in the preface to "the zincali," and he tried "the water system" and also "lessons in singing," to cure his indigestion and sleeplessness. he had the advantage of ford's advice, to avoid fine writing, mere description, poetry and learned books, and to give plenty of "racy, real, genuine scenes, and the more out of the way the better," stories of adventure, extraordinary things, prisons, low life, gypsies, and so on. he was now drawing entirely from "his own well," and when the book was out ford took care to remark that the author had cast aside the learned books which he had used as swimming corks in the "zincali," and now "leaped boldly into the tide" unaided. john murray's reader sent back the manuscript to be revised and augmented, and after this was done, "the bible in spain" was published, at the end of , when borrow was thirty- nine. "the bible in spain" was praised and moreover purchased by everyone. it was translated into french, american, russian, and printed in america. the "athenaeum" found it a "genuine book"; the "examiner" said that "apart from its adventurous interest, its literary merit is extraordinary." ford compared it with an old spanish ballad, "going from incident to incident, bang, bang, bang!" and with gil blas, and with bunyan. ford, it must be remembered, had ridden over the same tracks as borrow in spain, but before him, and had written his own book with a combination of learning and gusto that is one of the rarest of literary virtues. like borrow he wrote fresh from the thing itself when possible, asserting for example that the fat of the hams of montanches, when boiled, "looked like melted topazes, and the flavour defies language, although we have dined on one this very day, in order to secure accuracy and undeniable prose." for the benefit of the public ford pointed out that "the bible and its distribution have been _the_ business of his existence; whenever moral darkness brooded, there, the bible in his hand, he forced his way." when borrow was actually in spain he was much influenced by the conditions of the moment. the sun of spain would shine so that he prized it above english civilization. the anarchy and wildness of spain at another time would make him hate both men and land. but more lasting than joy in the sun and misery at the sight of misery was the feeling that he was "adrift in spain, the land of old renown, the land of wonder and mystery, with better opportunities of becoming acquainted with its strange secrets and peculiarities than, perhaps, ever yet were afforded to any individual, certainly to a foreigner." when he entered it, by crossing a brook, out of portugal, he shouted the spanish battle-cry in ecstasy, and in the end he described his five years in spain as, "if not the most eventful"--he cannot refrain from that vainglorious dark hint--yet "the most happy years" of his existence. spain was to him "the most magnificent country in the world": it was also "one of the few countries in europe where poverty is not treated with contempt, and i may add, where the wealthy are not blindly idolized." his book is a song of wild spain when spain _was_ spain. borrow, as we already know, had in him many of the powers that go to make a great book, yet "the zincali" was not a great book. the important power developed or employed later which made "the bible in spain" a great book was the power of narrative. the writing of those letters from spain to the bible society had taught him or discovered in him the instinct for proportion and connection which is the simplest, most inexplicable and most essential of literary gifts. with the help of this he could write narrative that should suggest and represent the continuity of life. he could pause for description or dialogue or reflection without interrupting this stream of life. nothing need be, and nothing was, alien to the narrator with this gift; for his writing would now assimilate everything and enrich itself continually. the reader could follow, as he preferred, the bible distribution in particular, or the gypsies, or borrow himself, through the long ways and dense forests of the book, and through the moral darkness of spain. it could be treated as a pious book, and as such it was attacked by catholics, as "lavengro" still is. for certainly borrow made no secret of his piety. when "a fine young man of twenty-seven, the only son of a widowed mother . . . the best sailor on board, and beloved by all who were acquainted with him" was swept off the ship in which borrow was sailing, and drowned, as he had dreamed he would be, the author exclaimed: "truly wonderful are the ways of providence!" when a spanish schoolmaster suggested that the testament was unintelligible without notes, borrow informed him that on the contrary the notes were far more difficult, and "it would never have been written if not calculated of itself to illume the minds of all classes of mankind." the bible was, in his published words, "the well-head of all that is useful and conducive to the happiness of society"; and he told the poor catalans that their souls' welfare depended on their being acquainted with the book he was selling at half the cost price. he could write not unlike the author of "the dairyman's daughter," as when he exclaimed: "oh man, man, seek not to dive into the mystery of moral good and evil; confess thyself a worm, cast thyself on the earth, and murmur with thy lips in the dust, jesus, jesus!" he thought the pope "the head minister of satan here on earth," and inspired partly by contempt of catholics, he declared that "no people in the world entertain sublimer notions of the uncreated eternal god than the moors . . . and with respect to christ, their ideas even of him are much more just than those of the papists." and he said to the face of the spanish prime minister: "it is a pleasant thing to be persecuted for the gospel's sake." nor was this pure cant; for he meant at least this, that he loved conflict and would be fearless and stubborn in battle; and, as he puts it, he was "cast into prison for the gospel's sake." in , no doubt, what first recommended this book to so many thousands was the protestant fervour and purpose of the book, and the romantic reputation of spain. at this day borrow's bible distribution is mainly of antiquarian and sectarian interest. we should not estimate the darkness of madrid by the number of testaments there in circulation and daily use, nor on the other hand should we fear, like borrow, to bring them into contempt by making them too common. yet his missionary work makes the necessary backbone of the book. he was, as he justly said, "no tourist, no writer of books of travels." his work brought him adventure as no mere wandering could have done. what is more, the man's methods are still entertaining to those who care nothing about the distribution itself. where he found the remains of a robber's camp he left a new testament and some tracts. to carry the bibles over the flinty hills of galicia and the asturias he bought "a black andalusian stallion of great power and strength, . . . unbroke, savage and furious": the cargo, he says, would tame the animal. he fixed his advertisement on the church porch at pitiegua, announcing the sale of testaments at salamanca. he had the courage without the ferocity of enthusiasm, and in the cause of the bible society he saw and did things which little concerned it, which in fact displeased it, but keep this book alive with a great stir and shout of life, with a hundred pages where we are shown what the poet meant by "forms more real than living men." we are shown the unrighteous to the very life. what matters it then if the author professes the opinion that "the friendship of the unrighteous is never of long duration"? nevertheless, these pious ejaculations are not without their value in the composition of the author's amazing character. borrow came near to being a perfect traveller. for he was, on the one hand, a man whose individuality was carved in clear bold lines, who had a manner and a set of opinions as remarkable as his appearance. thus he was bound to come into conflict with men wherever he went: he would bring out their manners and opinions, if they had any. but on the other hand he had abounding curiosity. he was bold but not rude: on the contrary he was most vigilantly polite. he took snuff, though he detested it; he avoided politics as much as possible: "no, no!" he said, "i have lived too long with _romany chals and petulengres_ to be of any politics save gypsy politics," in spite of what he had said in ' and was to say again in ' . when he and the gypsy antonio came to jaraicejo they separated by antonio's advice. the gypsy got through the town unchallenged by the guard, though not unnoticed by the townspeople. but borrow was stopped and asked by a man of the national guard whether he came with the gypsy, to which he answered, "do i look a person likely to keep company with gypsies?" though, says he, he probably did. then the national asked for his passport: "i remembered having read that the best way to win a spaniard's heart is to treat him with ceremonious civility. i therefore dismounted, and taking off my hat, made a low bow to the constitutional soldier, saying, 'senor nacional, you must know that i am an english gentleman travelling in this country for my pleasure. i bear a passport, which on inspecting you will find to be perfectly regular. it was given me by the great lord palmerston, minister of england, whom you of course have heard of here. at the bottom you will see his own handwriting. look at it and rejoice; perhaps you will never have another opportunity. as i put unbounded confidence in the honour of every gentleman, i leave the passport in your hands whilst i repair to the posada to refresh myself. when you have inspected it, you will perhaps oblige me so far as to bring it to me. cavalier, i kiss your hands.' "i then made him another low bow, which he returned with one still lower, and leaving him now staring at the passport and now looking at myself, i went into a posada, to which i was directed by a beggar whom i met. "i fed the horse, and procured some bread and barley, as the gypsy had directed me. i likewise purchased three fine partridges of a fowler, who was drinking wine in the posada. he was satisfied with the price i gave him, and offered to treat me with a copita, to which i made no objection. as we sat discoursing at the table, the national entered with the passport in his hand, and sat down by us. "_national_.--'caballero, i return you your passport; it is quite in form. i rejoice much to have made your acquaintance. i have no doubt that you can give me some information respecting the present war.' "_myself_.--'i shall be very happy to afford so polite and honourable a gentleman any information in my power.'" he won the hearts of the people of villa seca by the "formality" of his behaviour and language; for he tells us that in such remote places might still be found the gravity of deportment and the grandiose expressions which are scoffed at as exaggerations in the romances. he speaks of himself in one place as strolling about a town or neighbourhood, entering into conversation with several people whom he met, shopkeepers, professional men, and others. near evora he sat down daily at a fountain and talked with everyone who came to it. he visited the college of the english catholics at lisbon, excusing himself, indeed, by saying that his favourite or his only study was man. his knowledge of languages and his un-english appearance made it easier for him to become familiar with many kinds of men. he introduced himself among some jews of lisbon, and pronounced a blessing: they took him for a powerful rabbi, and he favoured their mistake so that in a few days he knew all that related to these people and their traffic. on his journey in galicia, when he was nearing finisterra, the men of the cabin where he rested took him for a catalan, and "he favoured their mistake and began with a harsh catalan accent to talk of the fish of galicia, and the high duties on salt." when at this same cabin he found there was no bed, he went up into the loft and lay down on the boards' without complaint. so in the prison at madrid he got on so well with the prisoners that on the third day he spoke their language as if he were "a son of the prison." at gibraltar he talked to the man of mogador in arabic and was taken for "a holy man from the kingdoms of the east," especially when he produced the shekel which had been given him by hasfeldt: a jew there believed him to be a salamancan jew. at villafranca a woman mistook his voice in the dark for that of "the german clockmaker from pontevedra." for some time in he went among the villages dressed in a peasant's leather helmet, jacket and trousers, and resembling "a person between sixty and seventy years of age," so that people addressed him as uncle, and bought his testaments, though the bible society, on hearing it, "began to inquire whether, if the old man were laid up in prison, they could very conveniently apply for his release in the proper quarter." { } he saw men and places, and with his pen he created a land as distinct, as wild, as vast, and as wonderful as the spain of cervantes. he did this with no conscious preconceived design. his creation was the effect of a multitude of impressions, all contributory because all genuine and true to the depth of borrow's own nature. he had seen and felt spain, and "the bible in spain" shows how; nor probably could he have shown it in any other way. not but what he could speak of spain as the land of old renown, and of himself--in a letter to the bible society in --as an errant knight, and of his servant francisco as his squire. he did not see himself as he was, or he would have seen both don quixote and sancho panza in one, now riding a black andalusian stallion, now driving an ass before him. only a power as great as borrow's own could show how this wild spain was built up. for it was not done by this and that, but by a great man and a noble country in a state of accord continually vibrating. thus he drew near to finisterra with his wild gallegan guide: "it was a beautiful autumnal morning when we left the choza and pursued our way to corcuvion. i satisfied our host by presenting him with a couple of pesetas; and he requested as a favour that if on our return we passed that way, and were overtaken by the night, we would again take up our abode beneath his roof. this i promised, at the same time determining to do my best to guard against the contingency, as sleeping in the loft of a gallegan hut, though preferable to passing the night on a moor or mountain, is anything but desirable. "so we again started at a rapid pace along rough bridleways and footpaths, amidst furze and brushwood. in about an hour we obtained a view of the sea, and directed by a lad, whom we found on the moor employed in tending a few miserable sheep, we bent our course to the north-west, and at length reached the brow of an eminence, where we stopped for some time to survey the prospect which opened before us. "it was not without reason that the latins gave the name of finisterrae to this district. we had arrived exactly at such a place as in my boyhood i had pictured to myself as the termination of the world, beyond which there was a wild sea, or abyss, or chaos. i now saw far before me an immense ocean, and below me a long and irregular line of lofty and precipitous coast. certainly in the whole world there is no bolder coast than the gallegan shore, from the _debouchement_ of the minho to cape finisterra. it consists of a granite wall of savage mountains, for the most part serrated at the top, and occasionally broken, where bays and firths like those of vigo and pontevedra intervene, running deep into the land. these bays and firths are invariably of an immense depth, and sufficiently capacious to shelter the navies of the proudest maritime nations. "there is an air of stern and savage grandeur in everything around which strongly captivates the imagination. this savage coast is the first glimpse of spain which the voyager from the north catches, or he who has ploughed his way across the wide atlantic; and well does it seem to realize all his visions of this strange land. 'yes,' he exclaims, 'this is indeed spain--stern, flinty spain--land emblematic of those spirits to which she has given birth. from what land but that before me could have proceeded those portentous beings who astounded the old world and filled the new with horror and blood--alba and philip, cortez and pizarro--stern colossal spectres looming through the gloom of bygone years, like yonder granite mountains through the haze, upon the eye of the mariner? yes, yonder is indeed spain--flinty, indomitable spain--land emblematic of its sons!' "as for myself, when i viewed that wide ocean and its savage shore, i cried, 'such is the grave, and such are its terrific sides; those moors and wilds over which i have passed are the rough and dreary journey of life. cheered with hope, we struggle along through all the difficulties of moor, bog, and mountain, to arrive at--what? the grave and its dreary sides. oh, may hope not desert us in the last hour--hope in the redeemer and in god!' "we descended from the eminence, and again lost sight of the sea amidst ravines and dingles, amongst which patches of pine were occasionally seen. continuing to descend, we at last came, not to the sea, but to the extremity of a long, narrow firth, where stood a village or hamlet; whilst at a small distance, on the western side of the firth, appeared one considerably larger, which was indeed almost entitled to the appellation of town. this last was corcuvion; the first, if i forget not, was called ria de silla. we hastened on to corcuvion, where i bade my guide make inquiries respecting finisterra. he entered the door of a wine-house, from which proceeded much noise and vociferation, and presently returned, informing me that the village of finisterra was distant about a league and a half. a man, evidently in a state of intoxication, followed him to the door. 'are you bound for finisterra, cavalheiros?' he shouted. "'yes, my friend,' i replied; 'we are going thither.' "'then you are going amongst a flock of drunkards' (_fato de borrachos_), he answered. 'take care that they do not play you a trick.' "we passed on, and striking across a sandy peninsula at the back of the town, soon reached the shore of an immense bay, the north-westernmost end of which was formed by the far-famed cape of finisterra, which we now saw before us stretching far into the sea. "along the beach of dazzling white sand we advanced towards the cape, the bourne of our journey. the sun was shining brightly, and every object was illumined by his beams. the sea lay before us like a vast mirror, and the waves which broke upon the shore were so tiny as scarcely to produce a murmur. on we sped along the deep winding bay, overhung by gigantic hills and mountains. strange recollections began to throng upon my mind. it was upon this beach that, according to the tradition of all ancient christendom, st. james, the patron saint of spain, preached the gospel to the heathen spaniards. upon this beach had once stood an immense commercial city, the proudest in all spain. this now desolate bay had once resounded with the voices of myriads, when the keels and commerce of all the then known world were wafted to duyo. "'what is the name of this village?' said i to a woman, as we passed by five or six ruinous houses at the bend of the bay, ere we entered upon the peninsula of finisterra. "'this is no village,' said the gallegan--'this is no village, sir cavalier; this is a city--this is duyo.' "so much for the glory of the world! these huts were all that the roaring sea and the tooth of time had left of duyo, the great city! onward now to finisterra." he spends little time on such declamatory description, but it is essential to the whole effect. this particular piece is followed by the difficulty of a long ascent, by a sleep of exhaustion on a rude and dirty bed, by borrow's arrest as the pretender, don carlos, in disguise, by an escape from immediate execution into the hands of an alcalde who read "jeremy bentham" day and night; all this in one short chapter. equally essential is the type of landscape represented by the solitary ruined fort in the monotonous waste between estremoz and elvas, which he climbed to over stones that cut his feet: "being about to leave the place, i heard a strange cry behind a part of the wall which i had not visited; and hastening thither, i found a miserable object in rags seated upon a stone. it was a maniac--a man about thirty years of age, and i believe deaf and dumb. there he sat, gibbering and mowing, and distorting his wild features into various dreadful appearances. there wanted nothing but this object to render the scene complete; banditti amongst such melancholy desolation would have been by no means so much in keeping. but the manaic on his stone, in the rear of the wind-beaten ruin overlooking the blasted heath, above which scowled the leaden heaven, presented such a picture of gloom and misery as i believe neither painter nor poet ever conceived in the saddest of their musings. this is not the first instance in which it has been my lot to verify the wisdom of the saying that truth is sometimes wilder than fiction." at oropesa he heard from the barber-surgeon of the mysterious guadarrama mountains, and of the valley that lay undiscovered and unknown for thousands of years until a hunter found there a tribe of people speaking a language unknown to anyone else and ignorant of the rest of men. rough wild ways intersect the book. thunder storms overhang it. immense caverns echo beneath it. the travellers left behind a mill which "stood at the bottom of a valley shaded by large trees, and its wheels were turning with a dismal and monotonous noise," and they emerged, by the light of "a corner of the moon," on to the wildest heath of the wildest province of spain, ignorant of their way, making for a place which the guide believed not to exist. they passed a defile where the carrier had been attacked on his last journey by robbers, who burnt the coach by means of the letters in it, and butchered all except the carrier, who had formerly been the master of one of the gang: as they passed, the ground was still saturated with the blood of one of the murdered soldiers and a dog was gnawing a piece of his skull. borrow was told of an old viper catcher caught by the robbers, who plundered and stripped him and then tied his hands behind him and thrust his head into his sack, "which contained several of these horrible reptiles alive," and so he ran mad through the villages until he fell dead. as a background, he had again and again a scene like that one, whose wild waters and mountains, and the "convent of the precipices" standing out against the summit, reminded him at once of salvator rosa and of stolberg's lines to a mountain torrent: "the pine trees are shaken. . . ." describing the cave at gibraltar, he spoke of it as always having been "a den for foul night birds, reptiles, and beasts of prey," of precipice after precipice, abyss after abyss, in apparently endless succession, and of an explorer who perished there and lay "even now rotting in the bowels of the mountain, preyed upon by its blind and noisome worms." when he saw a peaceful rich landscape in a bright sunny hour, as at monte moro, he shed tears of rapture, sitting on and on in those reveries which, as he well knew, only enervate the mind: or he felt that he would have desired "no better fate than that of a shepherd on the prairies or a hunter on the hills of bembibre": or looking through an iron-grated door at a garden court in seville he sighed that his fate did not permit him to reside in such an eden for the remainder of his days. for as he delights in the dismal, grand, or wild, so he does with equal intensity in the sweetness of loveliness, as in the country about seville: "oh how pleasant it is, especially in springtide, to stray along the shores of the guadalquivir! not far from the city, down the river, lies a grove called las delicias, or the delights. it consists of trees of various kinds, but more especially of poplars and elms, and is traversed by long, shady walks. this grove is the favourite promenade of the sevillians, and there one occasionally sees assembled whatever the town produces of beauty or gallantry. there wander the black-eyed andalusian dames and damsels, clad in their graceful silken mantillas; and there gallops the andalusian cavalier on his long-tailed, thick-maned steed of moorish ancestry. as the sun is descending, it is enchanting to glance back from this place in the direction of the city; the prospect is inexpressibly beautiful. yonder in the distance, high and enormous, stands the golden tower, now used as a toll-house, but the principal bulwark of the city in the time of the moors. it stands on the shore of the river, like a giant keeping watch, and is the first edifice which attracts the eye of the voyager as he moves up the stream to seville. on the other side, opposite the tower, stands the noble augustine convent, the ornament of the faubourg of triana; whilst between the two edifices rolls the broad guadalquivir, bearing on its bosom a flotilla of barks from catalonia and valencia. farther up is seen the bridge of boats which traverses the water. the principal object of this prospect, however, is the golden tower, where the beams of the setting sun seem to be concentrated as in the focus, so that it appears built of pure gold, and probably from that circumstance received the name which it now bears. cold, cold must the heart be which can remain insensible to the beauties of this magic scene, to do justice to which the pencil of claude himself were barely equal. often have i shed tears of rapture whilst i beheld it, and listened to the thrush and the nightingale piping forth their melodious songs in the woods, and inhaled the breeze laden with the perfume of the thousand orange gardens of seville. 'kennst du das land wo die citronen bluhen?'" if a scene was not in fact superlative his creative memory would furnish it with what it lacked, giving the cathedral of palencia, for example, windows painted by murillo. chapter xxi--"the bible in spain": the characters in such scenes, naturally, borrow placed nothing common and nothing mean. he must have a madman among the ruins, or by a pool a peasant woman sitting, who has been mad ever since her child was drowned there, or a mule and a stallion fighting with hoofs and teeth. the clergy, in their ugly shovel hats and long cloaks, glared at him askance as he passed by their whispering groups in salamanca: at the english college in valladolid, he thought of "those pale, smiling, half-foreign priests who, like stealthy grimalkins, traversed green england in all directions" under the persecution of elizabeth. if he painted an archbishop plainly dressed in black cassock and silken cap, stooping, feeble, pale and emaciated, he set upon his finger a superb amethyst of a dazzling lustre--borrow never saw a finer, except one belonging to an acquaintance of his own, a tartar khan. the day after his interview with the archbishop he had a visit from benedict mol. this man is proved to have existed by a letter from rey romero to borrow mentioning "the german of the treasure." { } "true, every word of it!" says knapp: "remember our artist never created; he painted from models." because he existed, therefore every word of borrow's concerning him is true. as borrow made him, "he is a bulky old man, somewhat above the middle height, and with white hair and ruddy features; his eyes were large and blue, and, whenever he fixed them on anyone's countenance, were full of an expression of great eagerness, as if he were expecting the communication of some important tidings. he was dressed commonly enough, in a jacket and trousers of coarse cloth of a russet colour; on his head was an immense sombrero, the brim of which had been much cut and mutilated, so as in some places to resemble the jags or denticles of a saw." and thus, at madrid in , he told his story on the first meeting, as men had to do when they were interrogated by borrow: "upon my asking him who he was, the following conversation ensued between us: "'i am a swiss of lucerne, benedict mol by name, once a soldier in the walloon guard, and now a soap-boiler, _para servir usted_.' "'you speak the language of spain very imperfectly,' said i; 'how long have you been in the country?' "'forty-five years,' replied benedict. 'but when the guard was broken up i went to minorca, where i lost the spanish language without acquiring the catalan.' "'you have been a soldier of the king of spain,' said i; 'how did you like the service?' "'not so well but that i should have been glad to leave it forty years ago; the pay was bad, and the treatment worse. i will now speak swiss to you; for, if i am not much mistaken, you are a german man, and understand the speech of lucerne. i should soon have deserted from the service of spain, as i did from that of the pope, whose soldier i was in my early youth before i came here; but i had married a woman of minorca, by whom i had two children: it was this that detained me in these parts so long. before, however, i left minorca, my wife died; and as for my children, one went east, the other west, and i know not what became of them. i intend shortly to return to lucerne, and live there like a duke.' "'have you then realized a large capital in spain?' said i, glancing at his hat and the rest of his apparel. "'not a cuart, not a cuart; these two wash-balls are all that i possess.' "'perhaps you are the son of good parents, and have lands and money in your own country wherewith to support yourself.' "'not a heller, not a heller. my father was hangman of lucerne, and when he died, his body was seized to pay his debts.' "'then doubtless,' said i, 'you intend to ply your trade of soap-boiling at lucerne. you are quite right, my friend; i know of no occupation more honourable or useful.' "'i have no thoughts of plying my trade at lucerne,' replied benedict. 'and now, as i see you are a german man, lieber herr, and as i like your countenance and your manner of speaking, i will tell you in confidence that i know very little of my trade, and have already been turned out of several fabriques as an evil workman; the two wash-balls that i carry in my pocket are not of my own making. _in kurtzen_, i know little more of soap-boiling than i do of tailoring, horse-farriery, or shoe-making, all of which i have practised.' "'then i know not how you can hope to live like a hertzog in your native canton, unless you expect that the men of lucerne, in consideration of your services to the pope and to the king of spain, will maintain you in splendour at the public expense.' "'lieber herr,' said benedict, 'the men of lucerne are by no means fond of maintaining the soldiers of the pope and the king of spain at their own expense; many of the guard who have returned thither beg their bread in the streets: but when i go, it shall be in a coach drawn by six mules with a treasure, a mighty schatz which lies in the church of st. james of compostella, in galicia.' "'i hope you do not intend to rob the church,' said i. 'if you do, however, i believe you will be disappointed. mendizabal and the liberals have been beforehand with you. i am informed that at present no other treasure is to be found in the cathedrals of spain than a few paltry ornaments and plated utensils.' "'my good german herr,' said benedict, 'it is no church schatz; and no person living, save myself, knows of its existence. nearly thirty years ago, amongst the sick soldiers who were brought to madrid, was one of my comrades of the walloon guard, who had accompanied the french to portugal; he was very sick, and shortly died. before, however, he breathed his last, he sent for me, and upon his death-bed told me that himself and two other soldiers, both of whom had since been killed, had buried in a certain church in compostella a great booty which they had made in portugal; it consisted of gold moidores and of a packet of huge diamonds from the brazils: the whole was contained in a large copper kettle. i listened with greedy ears, and from that moment, i may say, i have known no rest, neither by day nor night, thinking of the schatz. it is very easy to find, for the dying man was so exact in his description of the place where it lies, that were i once at compostella i should have no difficulty in putting my hand upon it. several times i have been on the point of setting out on the journey, but something has always happened to stop me. when my wife died, i left minorca with a determination to go to st. james; but on reaching madrid, i fell into the hands of a basque woman, who persuaded me to live with her, which i have done for several years. she is a great hax, { } and says that if i desert her she will breathe a spell which shall cling to me for ever. _dem got sey dank_, she is now in the hospital, and daily expected to die. this is my history, lieber herr.'" notice that borrow continues: "i have been the more careful in relating the above conversation, as i shall have frequent occasion to mention the swiss in the course of these journals." benedict mol had the faculty of re-appearance. in the next year at compostella the moonlight fell on his grey locks and weatherbeaten face and borrow recognised him. "_och_," said the man, "_mein gott_, _es ist der herr_!" (it is that gentleman). "och, what good fortune, that the _herr_ is the first person i meet in compostella." even borrow could scarcely believe his eyes. benedict had come to dig for the treasure, and in the meantime proposed to live at the best hotel and pay his score when the digging was done. borrow gave him a dollar, which he paid to a witch for telling him where exactly the treasure lay. a third time, to his own satisfaction and borrow's astonishment, he re-appeared at oviedo. he had, in fact, followed borrow to corunna, having been despitefully used at compostella, met highwaymen on the road, and suffered hunger so that he slaughtered a stray kid and devoured it raw. from oviedo he trod in borrow's footsteps, which was "a great comfort in his horrible journeys." "a strange life has he led," said borrow's greek servant, "and a strange death he will die--it is written on his countenance." he re-appeared a fourth time at madrid, in light green coat and pantaloons that were almost new, and a glossy andalusian hat "of immense altitude of cone," and leaning not on a ragged staff but "a huge bamboo rattan, surmounted by the grim head of either a bear or lion, curiously cut out of pewter." he had been wandering after borrow in misery that almost sent him mad: "oh, the horror of wandering about the savage hills and wide plains of spain without money and without hope! sometimes i became desperate, when i found myself amongst rocks and barrancos, perhaps after having tasted no food from sunrise to sunset, and then i would raise my staff towards the sky and shake it, crying, lieber herr gott, ach lieber herr gott, you must help me now or never. if you tarry, i am lost. you must help me now, now! and once when i was raving in this manner, methought i heard a voice--nay, i am sure i heard it--sounding from the hollow of a rock, clear and strong; and it cried, 'der schatz, der schatz, it is not yet dug up. to madrid, to madrid! the way to the schatz is through madrid.'" but now he had met people who supported him with an eye to the treasure. borrow tried to persuade him to circulate the gospel instead of risking failure and the anger of his clients. luckily benedict went on to compostella: "he went, and i never saw him more. what i heard, however, was extraordinary enough. it appeared that the government had listened to his tale, and had been so struck with benedict's exaggerated description of the buried treasure, that they imagined that, by a little trouble and outlay, gold and diamonds might be dug up at st. james sufficient to enrich themselves and to pay off the national debt of spain. the swiss returned to compostella 'like a duke,' to use his own words. the affair, which had at first been kept a profound secret, was speedily divulged. it was, indeed, resolved that the investigation, which involved consequences of so much importance, should take place in a manner the most public and imposing. a solemn festival was drawing nigh, and it was deemed expedient that the search should take place upon that day. the day arrived. all the bells in compostella pealed. the whole populace thronged from their houses; a thousand troops were drawn up in a square; the expectation of all was wound up to the highest pitch. a procession directed its course to the church of san roque. at its head were the captain-general and the swiss, brandishing in his hand the magic rattan; close behind walked the _meiga_, the gallegan witch-wife, by whom the treasure-seeker had been originally guided in the search; numerous masons brought up the rear, bearing implements to break up the ground. the procession enters the church; they pass through it in solemn march; they find themselves in a vaulted passage. the swiss looks around. 'dig here,' said he suddenly. 'yes, dig here,' said the meiga. the masons labour; the floor is broken up--a horrible and fetid odour arises. . . "enough, no treasure was found, and my warning to the unfortunate swiss turned out but too prophetic. he was forthwith seized and flung into the horrid prison of st. james, amidst the execrations of thousands, who would have gladly torn him limb from limb. "the affair did not terminate here. the political opponents of the government did not allow so favourable an opportunity to escape for launching the shafts of ridicule. the moderados were taunted in the cortes for their avarice and credulity, whilst the liberal press wafted on its wings through spain the story of the treasure-hunt at st. james. "'after all, it was a _trampa_ { } of don jorge's,' said one of my enemies. 'that fellow is at the bottom of half the picardias which happen in spain.' "eager to learn the fate of the swiss, i wrote to my old friend rey romero, at compostella. in his answer he states: 'i saw the swiss in prison, to which place he sent for me, craving my assistance, for the sake of the friendship which i bore to you. but how could i help him? he was speedily after removed from st. james, i know not whither. it is said that he disappeared on the road.' "truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. where in the whole cycle of romance shall we find anything more wild, grotesque, and sad than the easily authenticated history of benedict mol, the treasure-digger of st. james?" knapp, by the way, prints this very letter from rey romero. it was his son who saw benedict in prison, and he simply says that he does not know what has become of him. as dr. knapp says, borrow painted from a model. that is to say, he did like everybody else. of course he did not invent. why should a man with such a life invent for the purpose of only five books? but there is no such thing as invention (in the popular sense), except in the making of _bad_ nonsense rhymes or novels. a writer composes out of his experience, inward, outward and histrionic, or along the protracted lines of his experience. borrow felt that adventures and unusual scenes were his due, and when they were not forthcoming he revived an old one or revised the present in the weird light of the past. is this invention? pictures like that of benedict mol are not made out of nothing by borrow or anybody else. nor are they copies. the man who could merely copy nature would never have the eyes to see such beauties as benedict mol. it must be noticed how effective is the re-appearance, the intermingling of such a man with "ordinary life," and then finally the suggestion of one of borrow's enemies that he was put up to it by _don jorge_--"that fellow is at the bottom of half the _picardias_ which happen in spain." what glory for _don jorge_. the story would have been entertaining enough as a mere isolated short story: thus scattered, it is twice as effective as if it were a mere fiction, whether labelled "a true story" or introduced by an ingenious variation of the same. it is one of borrow's triumphs never to let us escape from the spell of actuality into a languid acquiescence in what is "only pretending." the form never becomes a fiction, even to the same extent as that of turgenev's "sportsman's sketches"; for borrow is always faithful to the form of a book of travel in spain during the 'thirties. in "don quixote" and "gil blas," the lesser narratives are as a rule introduced without much attempt at probability, but as mere diversions. they are never such in "the bible in spain," though they are in "lavengro" and "the romany rye." the gypsy hag of badajoz, who proposed to poison all the _busne_ in madrid, and then away with the london caloro to the land of the moor--his greek servant antonio, even though he begins with "je vais vous raconter mon histoire du commencement jusqu'ici."--the italian whom he had met as a boy and who now regretted leaving england, the toasted cheese and bread, the suffolk ale, the roaring song and merry jests of the labourers,--and antonio again, telling him "the history of the young man of the inn,"--these story-tellers are not merely consummate variations upon those of the "decameron" and "gil blas." the book never ceases to be a book of travel by an agent of the bible society. it is to its very great advantage that it was not written all of a piece with one conscious aim. the roughness, the merely accurate irrelevant detail here and there, the mention of his journal, and the references to well-known and substantial people, win from us an openness and simplicity of reception which ensure a success for it beyond that of most fictions. i cannot refuse complete belief in the gigantic jew, abarbanel, for example, when borrow has said: "i had now a full view of his face and figure, and those huge featured and herculean form still occasionally revisit me in my dreams. i see him standing in the moonshine, staring me in the face with his deep calm eyes." i do not feel bound to believe that he had met the italian of corunna twenty years before at norwich, though to a man with his memory for faces such re-appearances are likely to happen many times as often as to an ordinary man. but i feel no doubt about judah lib, who spoke to him at gibraltar: he was "about to exclaim, 'i know you not,' when one or two lineaments struck him, and he cried, though somewhat hesitatingly, 'surely this is judah lib.'" he continues: "it was in a steamer in the baltic in the year ' , if i mistake not." that he had this strong memory is certain; but that he knew it, and was proud of it, and likely to exaggerate it, is almost equally certain. it was natural that such a knight should have squires of high degree, as francisco the basque and the two antonios, gypsy and greek. antonio the greek left borrow to serve a count as cook, but the count attacked him with a rapier, whereupon he gave notice in the following manner: "suddenly i took a large casserole from the fire in which various eggs were frying; this i held out at arm's length, peering at it along my arm as if i were curiously inspecting it--my right foot advanced, and the other thrown back as far as possible. all stood still, imagining, doubtless, that i was about to perform some grand operation; and so i was: for suddenly the sinister leg advancing, with one rapid _coup de pied_ i sent the casserole and its contents flying over my head, so that they struck the wall far behind me. this was to let them know that i had broken my staff and had shaken the dust off my feet. so casting upon the count the peculiar glance of the sceirote cooks when they feel themselves insulted, and extending my mouth on either side nearly as far as the ears, i took down my haversack and departed, singing as i went the song of the ancient demos, who, when dying, asked for his supper, and water wherewith to lave his hands: [greek verse] and in this manner, mon maitre, i left the house of the count of ---." the morning after francisco died, when borrow was lying in bed ruminating on his loss, he heard someone cleaning boots and singing in an unknown tongue, so he rang the bell. antonio appeared. he had, he said, engaged himself to the prime minister at a high salary, but on hearing of borrow's loss, he "told the duke, though it was late at night, that he would not suit me; and here i am." again he left borrow. when he returned it was in obedience to a dream, in which he saw his master ride on a black horse up to his inn--yet this was immediately after borrow's landing on his third visit to spain, of which "only two individuals in madrid were aware." this greek was acquainted with all the cutthroats in galicia; he could tell a story like sterne, and in every way was a servant who deserved no less a master than _monsieur georges_. francisco has already sufficiently adorned these pages. as for the other antonio, the gypsy, he guided borrow through the worst of spain on his way to madrid. this he offered to do in such terms that borrow's hint at the possible danger of accepting it falls flat. he was as mysterious as borrow himself, and being asked why he was taking this particular road, he answered: "it is an affair of egypt, brother, and i shall not acquaint you with it; peradventure it relates to a horse or an ass, or peradventure it relates to a mule or a _macho_; it does not relate to yourself, therefore i advise you not to inquire about it--_dosta_. . . ." he carried a loadstone in his bosom and swallowed some of the dust of it, and it served both for passport and for prayers. when he had to leave borrow he sold him a savage and vicious she ass, recommending her for the same reason as he bought her, because "a savage and vicious beast has generally four excellent legs." chapter xxii--"the bible in spain": style borrow's spanish portrait of himself was worthy of its background. much was required of him in a world where a high fantastical acrobatic mountebankery was almost a matter of ceremony, where riders stand on their heads in passing their rivals and cooks punt a casserole over their heads to the wall behind by way of giving notice: much was required of him and he proved worthy. he saw himself, i suppose, as a great imaginative master of fiction sees a hero. his attitude cannot be called vanity: it is too consistent and continuous and its effect by far too powerful. he puts his own name into the speeches of other men in a manner that is very rare: he does not start at the sound of _don jorge_. he said to the silent archbishop: "i suppose your lordship knows who i am? . . . i am he whom the _manolos_ of madrid call _don jorgito el ingles_; i am just come out of prison, whither i was sent for circulating my lord's gospel in this kingdom of spain." he allows the archbishop to put this celebrity on horseback: "_vaya_! how you ride! it is dangerous to be in your way." his horses are magnificent: "what," he asks, "what is a missionary in the heart of spain without a horse? which consideration induced me now to purchase an arabian of high caste, which had been brought from algiers by an officer of the french legion. the name of this steed, the best i believe that ever issued from the desert, was sidi habismilk." who can forget quesada and his two friends lording it on horseback over the crowd, and borrow shouting "_viva_ _quesada_," or forget the old moor of tangier talking of horses?-- "'good are the horses of the moslems,' said my old friend; 'where will you find such? they will descend rocky mountains at full speed and neither trip nor fall; but you must be cautious with the horses of the moslems, and treat them with kindness, for the horses of the moslems are proud, and they like not being slaves. when they are young and first mounted, jerk not their mouths with your bit, for be sure if you do they will kill you--sooner or later you will perish beneath their feet. good are our horses, and good our riders--yea, very good are the moslems at mounting the horse; who are like them? i once saw a frank rider compete with a moslem on this beach, and at first the frank rider had it all his own way, and he passed the moslem. but the course was long, very long, and the horse of the frank rider, which was a frank also, panted; but the horse of the moslem panted not, for he was a moslem also, and the moslem rider at last gave a cry, and the horse sprang forward, and he overtook the frank horse, and then the moslem rider stood up in his saddle. how did he stand? truly he stood on his head, and these eyes saw him. he stood on his head in the saddle as he passed the frank rider, and he cried, ha, ha! as he passed the frank rider; and the moslem horse cried, ha, ha! as he passed the frank breed, and the frank lost by a far distance. good are the franks, good their horses; but better are the moslems, and better the horses of the moslems.'" it is said that he used to ride his black andalusian horse in madrid with a russian skin for a saddle and without stirrups. he had, he says, been accustomed from childhood to ride without a saddle. yet borrow could do without a horse. he never fails to make himself impressive. he stoops to his knee to scare a huge and ferocious dog by looking him full in the eyes. the spies, as he sat waiting for the magistrate at madrid, whisper, "he understands the seven gypsy jargons," or "he can ride a horse and dart a knife full as well as if he came from my own country." the captain of the ship tells a friend in a low voice, overheard by borrow: "that fellow who is lying on the deck can speak christian, too, when it serves his purpose; but he speaks others which are by no means christian. he can talk english, and i myself have heard him chatter in gitano with the gypsies of triana. he is now going amongst the moors; and when he arrives in their country, you will hear him, should you be there, converse as fluently in their gibberish as in christiano--nay, better, for he is no christian himself. he has been several times on board my vessel already; but i do not like him, as i consider that he carries something about with him which is not good." the american at tangier is perplexed by his speaking both moorish and gaelic, by hearing from an irish woman that he is "a fairy man." he does not confine himself to the mysterious sublime. he tells us, for example, that mendizabal, the prime minister, was a huge athletic man, "somewhat taller than myself, who measure six-feet-two without my shoes." several times he was mistaken for a jew, and once for a rabbi, by the jews themselves. add to this the expression that he put on for the benefit of the farrier at betanzos: he was stooping to close the vein that had been opened in the leg of his horse, and he "looked up into the farrier's face, arching his eyebrows. '_carracho_! what an evil wizard!' muttered the farrier, as he walked away." {picture: mendizabal, the spanish minister: page .jpg} in the wilds he grew a beard--he had one at jaraicejo--and it is perhaps worth noticing this, to rebut the opinion that he could not grow a beard, and that he was therefore as other men are with the same disability. he speaks more than once of his shedding tears, and at lisbon he kissed the stone above fielding's grave. but these are little things of little importance in the landscape portrait which emerges from the whole of the book, of the grave adventurer, all but always equal in his boldness and his discretion, the lord of those wild ways and wild men, who "rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm" all over spain. in brief, he is the very hero that a wondering and waiting audience would be satisfied to see appearing upon such a stage. except dante on his background of heaven and hell, and byron on his background of europe and time, no writer had in one book placed himself with greater distinction before the world. his glory was threefold. he was the man who was a gypsy in politics, because he had lived with gypsies so long. he was the man who said to the spanish prime minister: "it is a pleasant thing to be persecuted for the gospel's sake." he was the man of whom it was said _by an enemy_, after the affair of benedict mol, that _don jorge_ was at the bottom of half the knavish farces in spain. very little of borrow's effectiveness can seriously be attributed to this or that quality of style, for it will all amount to saying that he had an effective style. but it may be permissible to point out that it is also a style that is unnoticeable except for what it effects. it runs at times to rotten victorianism, both heavy and vague, as when he calls _el greco_ or domenico "a most extraordinary genius, some of whose productions possess merit of a very high order." he is capable of calling the eye the "orb of vision," and the moon "the beauteous luminary." i quote a passage lest it should seem incredible: "the moon had arisen when we mounted our horses to return to the village, and the rays of the beauteous luminary danced merrily on the rushing waters of the tagus, silvered the plain over which we were passing, and bathed in a flood of brightness the bold sides of the calcareous hill of villaluengo, the antique ruins which crowned its brow. . . ." description, taking him away from men and from his active self, often lured him into this kind of thing. and, nevertheless, such is borrow that i should by no means employ a gentleman of refinement to go over "the bible in spain" and cross out the like. it all helps in the total of half theatrical and wholly wild exuberance and robustness. another minute contributory element of style is the biblical phrasing. his home and certainly his work for the society had made him familiar with the bible. he quotes it several times in passages which bring him into comparison, if not equality, with jesus and with paul. a little after quoting, "ride on, because of the word of righteousness," he writes: "i repaired to the aqueduct, and sat down beneath the hundred and seventh arch, where i waited the greater part of the day, _but he came not_, _whereupon i arose and went into the city_." he is fond of "even," saying, for example, or making judah lib say, "he bent his way unto the east, _even to jerusalem_." the "beauteous luminary" vein and the biblical vein may be said to be inseparable from the long cloak, the sombrero, the picturesque romance and mystery of spain, as they appeared to one for whom romance and mystery alike were never without pomp. but with all his rant he is invariably substantial, never aerial, and he chequers it in a byronic manner with a sudden prose reference to bugs, or a question, or a piece of dialogue. his dialogue can hardly be over-praised. it is life-like in its effect, though not in its actual phrases, and it breaks up the narrative and description over and over again at the right time. what he puts into the mouth of shepherds with whom he sits round the fire is more than twice as potent as if it were in his own narrative; he varies the point of view, and yet always without allowing himself to disappear from the scene--he, the _senor_ traveller. these spoken words are, it is true, in borrow's own style, with little or no colloquialism, but they are simpler. they also, in their turn, are broken up by words or phrases from the language of the speaker. the effect of this must vary with the reader. the learned will not pause, some of the unlearned will be impatient. but as a glossary was afterwards granted at ford's suggestion, and is now to be had in the cheapest editions of "the bible in spain," these few hundred spanish or gypsy words are at least no serious stumbling block. i find them a very distinct additional flavour in the style. a good writer can afford these mysteries. children do not boggle at the unpronounceable names of a good book like "the arabian nights," but rather use them as charms, like izaak walton's marrow of the thighbone of a heron or a piece of mummy. the bullfighter speaks: "'cavaliers and strong men, this cavalier is the friend of a friend of mine. _es mucho hombre_. there is none like him in spain. he speaks the crabbed _gitano_, though he is an _inglesito_.' "'we do not believe it,' replied several grave voices. 'it is not possible.' "'it is not possible, say you? i tell you it is.--come forward, balseiro, you who have been in prison all your life, and are always boasting that you can speak the crabbed _gitano_, though i say you know nothing of it--come forward and speak to his worship in the crabbed _gitano_.' "a low, slight, but active figure stepped forward. he was in his shirt sleeves, and wore a _montero_ cap; his features were handsome, but they were those of a demon. "he spoke a few words in the broken gypsy slang of the prison, inquiring of me whether i had ever been in the condemned cell, and whether i knew what a _gitana_ was. "'_vamos inglesito_,' shouted sevilla, in a voice of thunder, 'answer the _monro_ in the crabbed _gitano_.' "i answered the robber, for such he was, and one, too, whose name will live for many years in the ruffian histories of madrid--i answered him in a speech of some length, in the dialect of the estremenian gypsies. "'i believe it is the crabbed _gitano_,' muttered balseiro. 'it is either that or english, for i understand not a word of it.' "'did i not say to you,' cried the bullfighter, 'that you knew nothing of the crabbed _gitano_? but this _inglesito_ does. i understood all he said. _vaya_, there is none like him for the crabbed _gitano_. he is a good _ginete_, too; next to myself, there is none like him, only he rides with stirrup leathers too short.--_inglesito_, if you have need of money, i will lend you my purse. all i have is at your service, and that is not a little; i have just gained four thousand _chules_ by the lottery. courage, englishman! another cup. i will pay all--i, sevilla!' "and he clapped his hand repeatedly on his breast, reiterating, 'i, sevilla! i--'" borrow breaks up his own style in the same way with foreign words. as ford said in his "edinburgh review" criticism: "to use a gypsy term for a linguist, 'he knows the seven jargons'; his conversations and his writings resemble an intricate mosiac, of which we see the rich effect, without comprehending the design. . . . mr. borrow, in whose mouth are the tongues of babel, selects, as he dashes along _currente calamo_, the exact word for any idiom which best expresses the precise idea which sparkles in his mind." this habit of borrow's should be compared with lamb's archaisms, but, better still, with robert burton's interlardation of english and latin in "the anatomy of melancholy." here again what i may call his spotted dog style is only a part of the whole, and as the whole is effective, we solemnly conclude that this is due in part to the spotted dog. my last word is that here, as always in a good writer, the whole is greater than the mere sum of the parts, just as with a bad writer the part is always greater than the whole. or a truer way of saying this is that many elements elude discovery, and therefore the whole exceeds the discoverable parts. nor is this the whole truth, for the mixing is much if not all, and neither borrow nor any critic knows anything about the mixing, save that the drink is good that comes of it. chapter xxiii--between the acts six three-volume editions of "the bible in spain" were issued within the first twelve months: ten thousand copies of a cheap edition were sold in four months. in america it was sold rapidly without benefit to borrow. it was translated into german in and french in . borrow came up to town and did not refuse to meet princes, bishops, ambassadors, and members of parliament. he was pleased and flattered by the sales and the reviews, and declared that he had known it would succeed. he did not quite know what to say to an invitation from the royal institution, but as to the royal academy, it would "just suit him," because he was a safe man, he said, fitted by nature for an academician. he did not think much of episcopal food, wine, or cigars. he was careful of his hero and disliked hearing him abused or treated indifferently. if he had many letters, he answered but few. he had made nothing yet out of literature because the getting about to receive homage, etc., had been so expensive: he did not care, for he hated to speak of money matters, yet he could not but mention the fact. when the money began to arrive he did not resent it by any means, as he was to buy a blood horse with it--no less. his letters have a jolly, bullying, but offhand and jerky tone, and they are very short. he gives murray advice on publishing and is willing to advise the government how to manage the irish--"the blackguards." he was now, by virtue of his wife, a "landed proprietor," and filled the part with unction, though but little satisfaction. for he was not a magistrate, and he had to get up in the middle of the night to look after "poachers and thieves," as he says in giving a reason for an illness. in the summer-house at oulton hung his father's coat and sword, but it is to be noticed that to the end of his life an old friend held it "doubtful whether his father commenced his military career with a commission." borrow probably realised the importance of belonging to the ruling classes and having a long steady pedigree. "if report be true," says the same friend, { } "his mother was of french origin, and in early life an actress." the foreignness as an asset overcame his objection to the french, and "an actress" also sounded unconventional. the friend continues: "but the subject of his family was one on which borrow never touched. he would allude to borrowdale as the country whence they came, and then would make mysterious allusions to his father's pugilistic triumphs. but this is certain, that he has not left a single relation behind him." yet he had many relatives in cornwall and did not scorn to visit their houses. he would only talk of his works to intimate friends, and "when he went into company it was as a gentleman, not because he was an author." lady eastlake, in march, , calls him "a fine man, but a most disagreeable one; a kind of character that would be most dangerous in rebellious times--one that would suffer or persecute to the utmost. his face is expressive of wrong-headed determination." a little earlier than this, in october, , caroline fox saw him "sitting on one side of the fire and his old mother on the other." it was known to her that "his spirits always sink in wet weather, and to-day was very rainy, but he was courteous and not displeased to be a little lionised, for his delicacy is not of the most susceptible." he was "a tall, ungainly, uncouth man," in her opinion, "with great physical strength, a quick penetrating eye, a confident manner, and a disagreeable tone and pronunciation." in no place does he make anyone praise his voice, and, as he said, it reminded one spanish woman of a german clockmaker's. but borrow was not happy or at ease. he took a riding tour in the east of england; he walked, rowed and fished; but that was not enough. he was restless, and yet did not get away. evidently he did not conceal the fact that he thought of travelling again. he had talked about africa and china: he was now talking about constantinople and africa. he was often miserable, though he had, so far as he knew, "no particular disorder." if at such times he was away from oulton, he thought of his home as his only refuge in this world; if he was at home he thought of travel or foreign employment. his disease was, perhaps, now middle age, and too good a memory in his blood and in his bones. whatever it was it was apparently not curable by his kind of christianity, nor by a visit from the genial ford, and a present of caviare and pheasant; nor by the never-out-of-date reminder from friends that he was very well off, etc. if he had been caught by dissenters, as he should have been, he might by this time have had salvation, and an occupation for life, in founding a new truculent sect of borrovians. as the rev. the romany rye he might have blazed in an entertaining and becoming manner. as "a sincere member of the old- fashioned church of england, in which he believes there is more religion, and consequently less cant, than in any other church in the world," there was nothing for him to do but sit down at oulton and contemplate the fact. this and the other fact that "he eats his own bread, and is one of the very few men in england who are independent in every sense of the word," were afterwards to be made subjects for public rejoicing in the appendix to "the romany rye." but in his discontent at the age of forty it cannot have been entirely satisfactory, however flattering, to hear ford, in the "edinburgh," saying: "we wish he would, on some leisure day, draw up the curtain of his own eventful biography. we collected from his former work that he was not always what he now is. the pursuits and society of his youth scarcely could be denominated, in troloppian euphemism, _la creme de la creme_; but they stood him in good stead; then and there was he trained for the encounter of spain . . . whilst sowing his wild oats, he became passionately fond of horseflesh. . . . "how much has mr. borrow yet to remember, yet to tell! let him not delay. his has been a life, one day of which is more crowded than is the fourscore-year vegetation of a squire or alderman. . . . everything seems sealed on a memory, wax to receive and marble to retain. he is not subjective. he has the new fault of not talking about self. we vainly want to know what sort of person must be the pilgrim in whose wanderings we have been interested. that he has left to other pens. . . ." then ford went on to identify borrow with the mysterious unknown of colonel napier's newly-published book. he began to write his autobiography to fulfil the expectations of ford and his own public. it was not until , exactly four years after his return from spain, that he set out again on foreign travel. he made stops at paris, vienna, constantinople, venice, and rome, but spent most of his time in hungary and roumania, visiting the gypsies and compiling a "vocabulary of the gypsy language as spoken in hungary and transylvania," which still exists in manuscript. he was seven months away altogether. knapp possessed documents proving that borrow was at this and that place, and the gypsy vocabulary is in the british museum, but little other record of these seven months remains. knapp, indeed, takes it for granted that the historical conversation between borrow and the magyar in "the romany rye" was drawn from his experiences in hungary and transylvania in the year ; but that is absurd, as the chapter might have been written by a man born and bred in the reading room of the british museum who had never met any but similar unfortunates. it is very likely that the journey was a failure, and if it had been a success, an account of it would have interrupted the progress of the autobiography, as ford expected it to do. but the thing was too deliberate to succeed. borrow's right instinct was to get work which would take him abroad; he failed, and so he travelled because travel offered him relief from his melancholy and unrest. whether or no he "satisfied his roving demon for a time," as mr. walling puts it, is unknown. what is known is that he did not make this journey a subject of mystery or boasting, and that he stayed in england thereafter. he had tasted comfort and celebrity; he had a wife; he was an older man, looking weak in the eyes by the time he was fifty; and he had no motive for travel except discontent with staying at home. he tried to get away again on a mission to the convent of st. catherine, on mount sinai, to acquire manuscripts for the british museum; but he failed, and the manuscripts went to st. petersburg instead of bloomsbury. in henry wyndham phillips, r.a., painted his portrait. he was a restless sitter until the painter remarked: "i have always heard, mr. borrow, that the persian is a very fine language; is it so?" "it is, phillips; it is." "perhaps you will not mind reciting me something in the persian tongue?" said phillips. "dear me, no; certainly not." and then "mr. borrow's face lit up with the light that phillips longed for, and he kept declaiming at the top of his voice, while the painter made the most of his opportunity." { } according to the story, phillips had the like success with turkish and armenian, and successfully stilled borrow's desire "to get out into the fresh air and sunlight." in the same way, writing and literary ambition kept borrow from travel. he stayed at home and he wrote "lavengro," where, speaking of the rapid flow of time in the years of his youth, he says: "since then it has flagged often enough; sometimes it has seemed to stand entirely still: and the reader may easily judge how it fares at the present, from the circumstance of my taking pen in hand, and endeavouring to write down the passages of my life--a last resource with most people." at one moment he got satisfaction from professing scorn of authorship, at another, speaking of byron, he reflected: "well, perhaps after all it was better to have been mighty milton in his poverty and blindness--witty and ingenious butler consigned to the tender mercies of bailiffs, and starving otway; they might enjoy more real pleasure than this lordling; they must have been aware that the world would one day do them justice--fame after death is better than the top of fashion in life. they have left a fame behind them which shall never die, whilst this lordling--a time will come when he will be out of fashion and forgotten. and yet i don't know; didn't he write childe harold and that ode? yes, he wrote childe harold and that ode. then a time will scarcely come when he will be forgotten. lords, squires, and cockneys may pass away, but a time will scarcely come when childe harold and that ode will be forgotten. he was a poet, after all--and he must have known it; a real poet, equal to--to--what a destiny!" it is said that in actual life borrow refused to be introduced to a russian scholar "simply because he moved in the literary world." { } yet again he made the glorious gypsy say that he would rather be a book- writer than a fighting-man, because the book-writers "have so much to say for themselves even when dead and gone": "'when they are laid in the churchyard, it is their own fault if people a'n't talking of them. who will know, after i am dead, or bitchadey pawdel, that i was once the beauty of the world, or that you, jasper, were--' "'the best man in england of my inches. that's true, tawno--however, here's our brother will perhaps let the world know something about us.'" i should think, too, that borrow was both questioner and answerer in the conversation with the literary man who had the touching mania: "'with respect to your present troubles and anxieties, would it not be wise, seeing that authorship causes you so much trouble and anxiety, to give it up altogether?' "'were you an author yourself,' replied my host, 'you would not talk in this manner; once an author, ever an author--besides, what could i do? return to my former state of vegetation? no, much as i endure, i do not wish that; besides, every now and then my reason tells me that these troubles and anxieties of mine are utterly without foundation; that whatever i write is the legitimate growth of my own mind, and that it is the height of folly to afflict myself at any chance resemblance between my own thoughts and those of other writers, such resemblance being inevitable from the fact of our common human origin. . . ." knapp gives at length a story showing what an author borrow was, and how little his travels had sweetened him. he had long promised to review ford's "handbook for spain," when it should appear. in he wrote an article and sent it in to the "quarterly" as a review of the handbook. it had nothing to do with the book and very little to do with the subject of the book, and lockhart, the "quarterly" editor, suggested turning it into a review by a few interpolations and extracts. borrow would not have the article touched. both lockhart and ford advised him to send it to "fraser's" or another magazine where it was certain to be welcomed as a spanish essay by the author of "the bible in spain." but no: and the article was never printed anywhere. yet borrow was not settling down to authorship pure and simple. he flew into a passion because a new railway line, in , ran through his estate. he flew into a passion, did nothing, and remained on his estates until , when he and his family went into lodgings at yarmouth. i have not discovered how much he profited by the intrusion of the railway, except when he pilloried the contractor, his neighbour, mr. peto, as flamson, in the appendix to "the romany rye." then he tried again to be put on the commission of the peace, with no success. he probably spent much of his time in being either suspicious, or ambitious, or indignant. in , for example, he suspected his friend dr. bowring--his "only friend" in --of using his work to get for himself the consulship at canton, which he was professing to obtain for borrow. the result was the foaming abuse of "the romany rye," where bowring is the old radical. the affair of the sinai manuscripts followed close on this. all that he saw of foreign lands was at the exhibition of , where he frequently accosted foreigners in their own tongue, so that it began to be whispered about that he was "uncanny": he excited so much remark that his daughter thought it better to drag him away. he was suffering from ill-health and untranquility of mind which gave his mother anxiety, though his physical strength appears not to have degenerated, for in , at yarmouth, he rescued a man out of a stormy sea. he was an unpleasant companion for those whom he did not like or could not get on with. thackeray tried to get up a conversation with him, his final effort being the question, "have you seen my 'snob papers' in 'punch'?" to which borrow answered: "in 'punch'? it is a periodical i never look at." he once met miss agnes strickland: "borrow was unwilling to be introduced, but was prevailed on to submit. he sat down at her side; before long she spoke with rapture of his works, and asked his permission to send him a copy of her 'queens of england.' he exclaimed, 'for god's sake, don't, madam, i should not know where to put them or what to do with them.' on this he rose, fuming, as was his wont when offended, and said to mr. donne, 'what a damned fool that woman is!' the fact is that, whenever borrow was induced to do anything unwillingly, he lost his temper." { } the friend who tells this story, gordon hake, a poet and doctor at bury st. edmunds, tells also that once when he was at dinner with a banker who had recently "struck the docket" to secure payment from a friend of borrow's, and the banker's wife said to him: "oh mr. borrow, i have read your books with so much pleasure!" the great man exclaimed: "pray, what books do you mean, madam? do you mean my account books?" how touchy he was, mr. walling shows, by his story of borrow in cornwall neglecting a lady all one evening because she bore the name of the man his father had knocked down at menheniot fair. several stories of his crushing remarks prove nothing but that he was big and alarming and uncontrolled. {picture: gordon hake. from the painting by dante gabriel rossetti. by kind permission of mrs. george gordon hake: page .jpg} very little record of his friendly intercourse with men at this middle period remains. several letters, of , and , alone survive to show that he met and received letters from fitzgerald. that fitzgerald enjoyed an evening with him in tells us little; and even so it appears that fitzgerald only wanted to ask him to read some of the "northern ballads"--"but you shut the book"--and that he doubted whether borrow wished to keep up the acquaintance. they had friends in common, and fitzgerald had sent borrow a copy of his "six dramas of calderon," in , confessing that he had had thoughts of sending the manuscript first for an inspection. he also told borrow when he was about to make the "dangerous experiment" of marriage with miss barton "of quaker memory." in borrow came to see him and had the loan of the "rubaiyat" in manuscript, and fitzgerald showed his readiness to see more of the "great man." in he sent borrow a copy of "omar." he found borrow's "masterful manners and irritable temper uncongenial," { } but succeeded, unlike many other friends, in having no quarrel with him. near the end of his life, in , it was borrow that tried to renew the acquaintance, but in vain, for fitzgerald reminded him that friends "exist and enjoy themselves pretty reasonably without me," and asked, was not being alone better than having company? if borrow had little consideration for others' feelings, his consideration for his own was exquisite, as this story, belonging to , may help to prove: "there were three personages in the world whom he always had a desire to see; two of these had slipped through his fingers, so he was determined to see the third. 'pray, mr. borrow, who were they?' he held up three fingers of his left hand and pointed them off with the forefinger of the right: the first, daniel o'connell; the second, lamplighter (the sire of phosphorus, lord berners's winner of the derby); the third, anna gurney. . . ." one spring day during the crimean war, when he was walking round norfolk, he sent word to anna gurney to announce his coming, and she was ready to receive him. "when, according to his account, he had been but a very short time in her presence, she wheeled her chair round and reached her hand to one of her bookshelves and took down an arabic grammar, and put it into his hand, asking for explanation of some difficult point, which he tried to decipher; but meanwhile she talked to him continuously; when, said he, 'i could not study the arabic grammar and listen to her at the same time, so i threw down the book and ran out of the room.' he seems not to have stopped running till he reached old tucker's inn, at cromer, where he renewed his strength, or calmed his temper, with five excellent sausages, and then came on to sheringham. . . ." { a} the distance is a very good two miles, and borrow's age was forty-nine. he is said also to have been considerate towards his mother, the poor, and domestic animals. probably he and his mother understood one another. when he could not write to her, he got his wife to do so; and from she lived with them at oulton. as to the poor, knapp tells us that he left behind him letters of gratitude or acknowledgment from individuals, churches, and chapels. as to animals, once when he came upon some men beating a horse that had fallen, he gave it ale of sufficient quantity and strength to set it soon upon the road trotting with the rest of its kind, after the men had received a lecture. { b} it is also related that when a favourite old cat crawled out to die in the hedge he brought it into the house, where he "laid it down in a comfortable spot and watched it till it was dead." his horse, sidi habismilk, the arab, seems to have returned his admiration and esteem. he said himself, in "wild wales," after expressing his relief that a boy and dog had not seen a weazel that ran across his path: "i hate to see poor wild animals persecuted and murdered, lose my appetite for dinner at hearing the screams of a hare pursued by greyhounds, and am silly enough to feel disgust and horror at the squeals of a rat in the fangs of a terrier, which one of the sporting tribe once told me were the sweetest sounds in 'natur.'" chapter xxiv--"lavengro" and "the romany rye" instead of travelling over the world borrow wrote his autobiography and spent so many years on it that his contempt for the pen had some excuse. i have already said almost all there is to say about these labours. { } knapp has shown that they were protracted to include matters relating to bowring and long posterior to the period covered by the autobiography, and that the magnitude of these additions compelled him to divide the book in two. the first part was "lavengro," published in , with an ending that is now, and perhaps was then, obviously due to the knife. the sceptical and hostile criticism of "lavengro" delayed the appearance of the remainder of the autobiography, "the romany rye." borrow had to reply to his critics and explain himself. this he did in the appendix, and thus changed, the book was finished in or . something in murray's attitude while they were discussing publication mounted borrow on the high horse, and yet again he fumed because murray had expressed a private opinion and had revealed his feeling that the book was not likely to make money for anyone. {picture: cancelled title-page of "lavengro". (photographed from the author's corrected proof copy, by kind permission of mr. kyllmann and mr. thos. seccombe.) photo: w. j. roberts: page .jpg} "lavengro" and "the romany rye" describe the author's early adventures and, at the same time, his later opinions and mature character. in some places he turns openly aside to express his feeling or opinion at the time of writing, as, for example, in his praise of the orangemen, or, on the very first page, where he claims to spring from a family of gentlemen, though "not very wealthy," that the reader may see at once he is "not altogether of low and plebeian origin." but by far more important is the indirect self-revelation when he is recalling that other distant self, the child of three or of ten, the youth of twenty. ford had asked borrow for a book of his adventures and travels, something "thick and slab," to follow "the bible in spain." the result shows that borrow had almost done with outward adventure. "the bible in spain" had an atmosphere composed at best of as much spain as borrow. but the autobiography is pure inward borrow: except a few detachable incidents there is nothing in it which is not borrow's creation, nothing which would have any value apart from his own treatment of it. a man might have used "the bible in spain" as a kind of guide to men and places in , and it is possible he would not have been wholly disappointed. the autobiography does not depend on anything outside itself, but creates its own atmosphere and dwells in it without admitting that of the outer world--no: not even by references to events like the campaign of waterloo or the funeral of byron; and, as if conscious that this other atmosphere must be excluded, borrow has hardly mentioned a name which could act upon the reader as a temporary check to the charm. when he does recall contemporary events, and speaks as a briton to britons, the rant is of a brave degree that is almost as much his own, and it makes more intense than ever the solitude and inwardness of the individual life going on side by side with war and with politics. "pleasant were those days of my early boyhood; and a melancholy pleasure steals over me as i recall them. those were stirring times of which i am speaking, and there was much passing around me calculated to captivate the imagination. the dreadful struggle which so long convulsed europe, and in which england bore so prominent a part, was then at its hottest; we were at war, and determination and enthusiasm shone in every face; man, woman and child were eager to fight the frank, the hereditary, but, thank god, never dreaded enemy of the anglo-saxon race. 'love your country and beat the french, and then never mind what happens,' was the cry of entire england. oh those were days of power, gallant days, bustling days, worth the bravest days of chivalry, at least; tall battalions of native warriors were marching through the land; there was the glitter of the bayonet and the gleam of the sabre; the shrill squeak of the fife and loud rattling of the drum were heard in the streets of county towns, and the loyal shouts of the inhabitants greeted the soldiery on their arrival or cheered them at their departure. and now let us leave the upland and descend to the sea-board; there is a sight for you upon the billows! a dozen men-of-war are gliding majestically out of port, their long buntings streaming from the top-gallant masts, calling on the skulking frenchman to come forth from his bights and bays; and what looms upon us yonder from the fog-bank in the east? a gallant frigate towing behind her the long low hull of a crippled privateer, which but three short days ago had left dieppe to skim the sea, and whose crew of ferocious hearts are now cursing their impudence in an english hold. stirring times those, which i love to recall, for they were days of gallantry and enthusiasm, and were moreover the days of my boyhood." "pleasant were those days," and there is a "melancholy pleasure" in recalling them. the two combine in this autobiography with strange effect, for they set the man side by side with the child as an invisible companion haunting him. whatever was the change that came over borrow in the 'forties, and showed itself in melancholy and unrest, this long-continued contemplation of his childhood betrayed him into a profound change of tone. neither africa nor the east could have shown him as much mystery as this wide england of a child ignorant of geography, and it kept hold of him for twice as long as spain. it offered him relief and escape, and gladly did he accept them, and deeply he indulged in them. he found that he had that within himself as wild as any mountain or maniac-haunted ruin of spain. for example, he recalled his schooldays in ireland, and how one day he set out to visit his elder brother, the boy lieutenant: "the distance was rather considerable, yet i hoped to be back by evening fall, for i was now a shrewd walker, thanks to constant practice. i set out early, and, directing my course towards the north, i had in less than two hours accomplished considerably more than half of the journey. the weather had been propitious: a slight frost had rendered the ground firm to the tread, and the skies were clear; but now a change came over the scene, the skies darkened, and a heavy snow-storm came on; the road then lay straight through a bog, and was bounded by a deep trench on both sides; i was making the best of my way, keeping as nearly as i could in the middle of the road, lest, blinded by the snow which was frequently borne into my eyes by the wind, i might fall into the dyke, when all at once i heard a shout to windward, and turning my eyes i saw the figure of a man, and what appeared to be an animal of some kind, coming across the bog with great speed, in the direction of myself; the nature of the ground seemed to offer but little impediment to these beings, both clearing the holes and abysses which lay in their way with surprising agility; the animal was, however, some slight way in advance, and, bounding over the dyke, appeared on the road just before me. it was a dog, of what species i cannot tell, never having seen the like before or since; the head was large and round; the ears so tiny as scarcely to be discernible; the eyes of a fiery red; in size it was rather small than large; and the coat, which was remarkably smooth, as white as the falling flakes. it placed itself directly in my path, and showing its teeth, and bristling its coat, appeared determined to prevent my progress. i had an ashen stick in my hand, with which i threatened it; this, however, only served to increase its fury; it rushed upon me, and i had the utmost difficulty to preserve myself from its fangs. "'what are you doing with the dog, the fairy dog?' said a man, who at this time likewise cleared the dyke at a bound. "he was a very tall man, rather well dressed as it should seem; his garments, however, were like my own, so covered with snow that i could scarcely discern their quality. "'what are ye doing with the dog of peace?' "'i wish he would show himself one,' said i; 'i said nothing to him, but he placed himself in my road, and would not let me pass.' "'of course he would not be letting you till he knew where ye were going.' "'he's not much of a fairy,' said i, 'or he would know that without asking; tell him that i am going to see my brother.' "'and who is your brother, little sas?' "'what my father is, a royal soldier.' "'oh, ye are going then to the detachment at ---; by my shoul, i have a good mind to be spoiling your journey.' "'you are doing that already,' said i, 'keeping me here talking about dogs and fairies; you had better go home and get some salve to cure that place over your eye; it's catching cold you'll be in so much snow.' "on one side of the man's forehead there was a raw and staring wound, as if from a recent and terrible blow. "'faith, then, i'll be going, but it's taking you wid me i will be.' "'and where will you take me?' "'why, then, to ryan's castle, little sas.' "'you do not speak the language very correctly,' said i; 'it is not sas you should call me--'tis sassanach,' and forthwith i accompanied the word with a speech full of flowers of irish rhetoric. "the man looked upon me for a moment, fixedly, then, bending his head towards his breast, he appeared to be undergoing a kind of convulsion, which was accompanied by a sound something resembling laughter; presently he looked at me, and there was a broad grin on his features. "'by my shoul, it's a thing of peace i'm thinking ye.' "but now with a whisking sound came running down the road a hare; it was nearly upon us before it perceived us; suddenly stopping short, however, it sprang into the bog on the right-hand side; after it amain bounded the dog of peace, followed by the man, but not until he had nodded to me a farewell salutation. in a few moments i lost sight of him amidst the snow-flakes." this is more magical than nine-tenths of the deliberately celtic prose or verse. i mean that it is real and credible and yet insubstantial, the too too solid flesh is melted into something like the mist over the bogland, and it recalls to us times when an account of our physical self, height, width, weight, colour, age, etc., would bear no relation whatever to the true self. in part, this effect may be due to ireland and to the fact that borrow was only there for one short impressionable year of his boyhood, and had never seen any other country like it. but most of it is due to borrow's nature and the conditions under which the autobiography was composed. while he was writing it he was probably living a more solitary and sedentary life than ever before, and could hear the voices of solitude; he was not the busy riding missionary of "the bible in spain," nor the feted author, but the unsocial morbid tinker, philologist, boxer, and religious doubter. it has been said that "he was a celt of celts. his genius was truly celtic." { a} it has been said that "he inherited nothing from norfolk save his accent and his love of 'leg of mutton and turnips.'" { b} yet his father, the cornish "celt," appears to have been entirely unlike him, while he draws his mother, the norfolk huguenot, as innately sympathetic with himself. i am content to leave this mystery for celts and anti-celts to grow lean on. i have known celts who said that five and five were ten or, at most, eleven; and saxons who said twenty-five, and even fifty-five. borrow was writing without note books: things had therefore in his memory the importance which his nature had decreed for them, and among these things no doubt he exercised a conscious choice. behind all was the inexplicable singular force which, celtic or not, gave the "dream"-like, illusory quality which pervades the books in spite of more positive and arresting qualities sometimes apparently hostile to this one. it is true that his books have in them many rude or simple characters of gypsies, jockeys, and others, living chiefly by their hands, and it is part of the conscious and unconscious object of the books to exalt them. but these people in borrow's hands seldom or never give the impression of coarse solid bodies well endowed with the principal appetites. there is, for example, a famous page where the young doubting borrow listens to a wesleyan preacher and wishes that his life had been like that man's, and then comes upon his gypsy friend after a long absence. he asks the gypsy for news and hears of some deaths: "'what is your opinion of death, mr. petulengro?' said i, as i sat down beside him "'my opinion of death, brother, is much the same as that in the old song of pharaoh, which i have heard my grandam sing-- "canna marel o manus chivios ande puv, ta rovel pa leste o chavo ta romi." when a man dies, he is cast into the earth, and his wife and child sorrow over him. if he has neither wife nor child, then his father and mother, i suppose; and if he is quite alone in the world, why, then, he is cast into the earth, and there is an end of the matter.' "'and do you think that is the end of man?' "'there's an end of him, brother, more's the pity.' "'why do you say so?' "'life is sweet, brother.' "'do you think so?' "'think so!--there's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the heath. life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?' "'i would wish to die--' "'you talk like a gorgio--which is the same as talking like a fool--were you a rommany chal you would talk wiser. wish to die, indeed!--a rommany chal would wish to live for ever!" "'in sickness, jasper?' "'there's the sun and stars, brother.' "'in blindness, jasper?' "'there's the wind on the heath, brother; if i could only feel that, i would gladly live for ever. dosta, we'll now go to the tents and put on the gloves; and i'll try to make you feel what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!'" but how delicate it is, the two lads talking amidst the furze of mousehold heath at sunset. and so with the rest. as he grows older the atmosphere thins but never quite fades away; even thurtell, the bull-necked friend of bruisers, is as much a spirit as a man. mr. watts-dunton has complained { } that borrow makes isopel taller than borrow, and therefore too tall for beauty. but borrow was not writing for readers who knew, or for those who, if they knew, always remembered, that he was six-feet-two. we know that lavengro is tall, but we are not told so just before hearing that isopel is taller; and the effect is that we think, not too distinctly, of a girl who somehow succeeds in being very tall and beautiful. if borrow had said: "whereas i was six feet two inches, the girl was six feet two and three-quarter inches," it would have been different, and it would not have been borrow, who, as i say, was not writing of ponderable, measurable bodies, but of possible immortal souls curiously dressed in flesh that can be almost as invisible. so again, mr. watts-dunton says: "with regard to isopel berners, neither lavengro, nor the man she thrashed when he stole one of her flaxen hairs to conjure with, gives the reader the faintest idea of isopel's method of attack or defence, and we have to take her prowess on trust. in a word borrow was content to give us the wonderful, without taking that trouble to find for it a logical basis which a literary master would have taken. and instances might easily be multiplied of this exaggeration of borrow's, which is apt to lend a sense of unreality to some of the most picturesque pages of 'lavengro.'" but would mr. watts-dunton seriously like to have these scenes touched up by driscoll or sullivan. borrow did not write for real or imaginary connoisseurs. i do not mean that a man need sacrifice his effect upon the ordinary man by satisfying the connoisseur. no one, for example, will deny that a ship by mr. joseph conrad is as beautiful and intelligible as one by stevenson; but neither would it be safe to foretell that mr. conrad's, the more accurate, will seem the more like life in fifty years' time. borrow is never technical. if he quotes gypsy it is not for the sake of the colour effect on those who read gypsy as they run. his effects are for a certain distance and in a certain atmosphere where technicality would be impertinent. mr. hindes groome { a} was more justified in saying: "mr. borrow, no doubt, knows the gypsies well, and could describe them perfectly. but his love of effect leads him away. in his wish to impress his reader with a certain mysterious notion of himself, he colours his gypsy pictures (the _form_ of which is quite accurate) in a fantastic style, which robs them altogether of the value they would have as studies from life." for groome wrote simply as a gypsy student. he collected data which can be verified, but do not often give an impression of life, except the life of a young cambridge man who is devoted to gypsies. the "athenaeum" reviewer { b} begs the question by calling the gypsy dialogues of hindes groome, photographic; and is plainly inaccurate in saying that if they are compared with those in "lavengro" "the illusion in borrow's narrative is disturbed by the uncolloquial vocabulary of the speakers." for borrow's dialogues do produce an effect of some kind of life; those of hindes groome instruct us or pique our curiosity, but unless we know gypsies, they produce no life-like effect. who else but borrow could make the old viper-catcher thus describe the king of the vipers?-- "it may be about seven years ago that i happened to be far down yonder to the west, on the other side of england, nearly two hundred miles from here, following my business. it was a very sultry day, i remember, and i had been out several hours catching creatures. it might be about three o'clock in the afternoon, when i found myself on some heathy land near the sea, on the ridge of a hill, the side of which, nearly as far down as the sea, was heath; but on the top there was arable ground, which had been planted, and from which the harvest had been gathered--oats or barley, i know not which--but i remember that the ground was covered with stubble. well, about three o'clock, as i told you before, what with the heat of the day and from having walked about for hours in a lazy way, i felt very tired; so i determined to have a sleep, and i laid myself down, my head just on the ridge of the hill, towards the field, and my body over the side down amongst the heath; my bag, which was nearly filled with creatures, lay at a little distance from my face; the creatures were struggling in it, i remember, and i thought to myself, how much more comfortably off i was than they; i was taking my ease on the nice open hill, cooled with the breezes, whilst they were in the nasty close bag, coiling about one another, and breaking their very hearts all to no purpose; and i felt quite comfortable and happy in the thought, and little by little closed my eyes, and fell into the sweetest snooze that ever i was in in all my life; and there i lay over the hill's side, with my head half in the field, i don't know how long, all dead asleep. at last it seemed to me that i heard a noise in my sleep, something like a thing moving, very faint, however, far away; then it died, and then it came again upon my ear, as i slept, and now it appeared almost as if i heard crackle, crackle; then it died again, or i became yet more dead asleep than before, i know not which, but i certainly lay some time without hearing it. all of a sudden i became awake, and there was i, on the ridge of the hill, with my cheek on the ground towards the stubble, with a noise in my ear like that of something moving towards me, among the stubble of the field; well, i lay a moment or two listening to the noise, and then i became frightened, for i did not like the noise at all, it sounded so odd; so i rolled myself on my belly, and looked towards the stubble. mercy upon us! there was a huge snake, or rather a dreadful viper, for it was all yellow and gold, moving towards me, bearing its head about a foot and a half above the ground, the dry stubble crackling beneath its outrageous belly. it might be about five yards off when i first saw it, making straight towards me, child, as if it would devour me. i lay quite still, for i was stupefied with horror, whilst the creature came still nearer; and now it was nearly upon me, when it suddenly drew back a little, and then--what do you think?--it lifted its head and chest high in the air, and high over my face as i looked up, flickering at me with its tongue as if it would fly at my face. child, what i felt at that moment i can scarcely say, but it was a sufficient punishment for all the sins i ever committed; and there we two were, i looking up at the viper, and the viper looking down upon me, flickering at me with its tongue. it was only the kindness of god that saved me: all at once there was a loud noise, the report of a gun, for a fowler was shooting at a covey of birds, a little way off in the stubble. whereupon the viper sunk its head and immediately made off over the ridge of the hill, down in the direction of the sea. as it passed by me, however--and it passed close by me--it hesitated a moment, as if it was doubtful whether it should not seize me; it did not, however, but made off down the hill. it has often struck me that he was angry with me, and came upon me unawares for presuming to meddle with his people, as i have always been in the habit of doing." the passages quoted from "lavengro" are representative only of the _spirit_ of the book, which, as i have suggested, diminishes with borrow's increasing years, but pervades the physical activity, the "low life" and open air, and prevails over them. i will give one other example of his by no means everyday magic--the incident of the poisoned cake. the gypsy girl leonora discovers him and betrays him to his enemy, old hairy mrs. herne: "leaning my back against the tree i was not long in falling into a slumber; i quite clearly remember that slumber of mine beneath the ash tree, for it was about the sweetest slumber that i ever enjoyed; how long i continued in it i don't know; i could almost have wished that it had lasted to the present time. all of a sudden it appeared to me that a voice cried in my ear, 'danger! danger! danger!' nothing seemingly could be more distinct than the words which i heard; then an uneasy sensation came over me, which i strove to get rid of, and at last succeeded, for i awoke. the gypsy girl was standing just opposite to me, with her eyes fixed upon my countenance; a singular kind of little dog stood beside her. "'ha!' said i, 'was it you that cried danger? what danger is there?' "'danger, brother, there is no danger; what danger should there be? i called to my little dog, but that was in the wood; my little dog's name is not danger, but stranger; what danger should there be, brother.' "'what, indeed, except in sleeping beneath a tree; what is that you have got in your hand?' "'something for you,' said the girl, sitting down and proceeding to untie a white napkin; 'a pretty manricli, so sweet, so nice; when i went home to my people i told my grandbebee how kind you had been to the poor person's child, and when my grandbebee saw the kekaubi, she said, "hir mi devlis, it won't do for the poor people to be ungrateful; by my god, i will bake a cake for the young harko mescro."' "'but there are two cakes.' "'yes, brother, two cakes, both for you; my grandbebee meant them both for you--but list, brother, i will have one of them for bringing them. i know you will give me one, pretty brother, grey-haired brother--which shall i have, brother?' "in the napkin were two round cakes, seemingly made of rich and costly compounds, and precisely similar in form, each weighing about half a pound. "'which shall i have, brother?' said the gypsy girl. "'whichever you please.' "'no, brother, no, the cakes are yours, not mine, it is for you to say.' "'well, then, give me the one nearest you, and take the other.' "'yes, brother, yes,' said the girl; and taking the cakes, she flung them into the air two or three times, catching them as they fell, and singing the while. 'pretty brother, grey-haired brother--here, brother,' said she, 'here is your cake, this other is mine. . . .'" i cannot afford to quote the whole passage, but it is at once as real and as phantasmal as the witch scene in "macbeth." he eats the poisoned cake and lies deadly sick. mrs. herne and leonora came to see the effect of the poison: "'ha, ha! bebee, and here he lies, poisoned like a hog.' "'you have taken drows, sir,' said mrs. herne; 'do you hear, sir? drows; tip him a stave, child, of the song of poison.' "and thereupon the girl clapped her hands, and sang-- "the rommany churl and the rommany girl to-morrow shall hie to poison the sty, and bewitch on the mead the farmer's steed." "'do you hear that, sir?' said mrs. herne; 'the child has tipped you a stave of the song of poison: that is, she has sung it christianly, though perhaps you would like to hear it romanly; you were always fond of what was roman. tip it him romanly, child.'" it is not much use to remark on "the uncolloquial vocabulary of the speakers." iago's vocabulary is not colloquial when he says: "not poppy nor mandragora nor all the drowsy syrups of the world shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep that thou ow'dst yesterday." borrow is not describing gypsy life but the "dream" of his own early life. i should say that he succeeds, because his words work upon the indifferent reader in something like the same way as memory worked upon himself. the physical activity, the "low life," and the open air of the books are powerful. these and the england of his youth gave borrow his refuge from middle age and victorian england of the middle class. "youth," he says in "the romany rye," "is the only season for enjoyment, and the first twenty-five years of one's life are worth all the rest of the longest life of man, even though these five and twenty be spent in penury and contempt, and the rest in the possession of wealth, honour, respectability, ay, and many of them in strength and health. . . ." still more emphatically did he think the same when he was looking on his past life in the dingle, feeling his arms and thighs and teeth, which were strong and sound; "so now was the time to labour, to marry, to eat strong flesh, and beget strong children--the power of doing all this would pass away with youth, which was terribly transitory." {picture: view on mousehold heath, near norwich. (from the painting by "old crome" in the national gallery.) photo: w. j. roberts: page .jpg} youth and strength or their extreme opposites alone attracted him, and therefore he is best in writing of men, if we except the tall brynhild, isopel, and the old witch, mrs. herne, than whom "no she bear of lapland ever looked more fierce and hairy." in the same breath as he praises youth he praises england, pouring scorn on those who traverse spain and portugal in quest of adventures, "whereas there are ten times more adventures to be met with in england than in spain, portugal, or stupid germany to boot." it was the old england before railways, though mr. petulengro heard a man speaking of a wonderful invention that "would set aside all the old roads, which in a little time would be ploughed up, and sowed with corn, and cause all england to be laid down with iron roads, on which people would go thundering along in vehicles, pushed forward by fire and smoke." borrow makes another of his characters also foretell the triumph of railways, and i insist on quoting part of the sentence as another example of borrow's mysterious way: the speaker has had his information from the projector of the scheme: "which he has told me many of the wisest heads of england have been dreaming of during a period of six hundred years, and which it seems was alluded to by a certain brazen head in the story-book of friar bacon, who is generally supposed to have been a wizard, but in reality was a great philosopher. young man, in less than twenty years, by which time i shall be dead and gone, england will be surrounded with roads of metal, on which armies may travel with mighty velocity, and of which the walls of brass and iron by which the friar proposed to defend his native land are types." and yet he makes little of the practical difference between the england of railways and the england of coaches; in fact he hated the bullying coachmen so that he expressed nothing but gladness when they had disappeared from the road. no: it was first as the england of the successful wars with napoleon, and second as the england of his youth that he idealised it--the country of byron and farmer george, not that of tennyson, victoria and albert; for as byron was one of the new age and yet looked back to pope and down on wordsworth, so did borrow look back. his english geography is far vaguer than his spanish. he creeps--walking or riding--over this land with more mystery. the variety and difficulties of the roads were less, and actual movement fills very few pages. he advances not so much step by step as adventure by adventure. well might he say, a little impudently, "there is not a chapter in the present book which is not full of adventures, with the exception of the present one, and this is not yet terminated"--it ends with a fall from his horse which stuns him. there is an air of somnambulism about some of the travel, especially when he is escaping alone from london and hack- writing. he shows great art in his transitions from day to day, from scene to scene, making it natural that one hour of one day should have the importance of the whole of another year, and one house more than the importance of several day's journeys. it matters not that he crammed more than was possible between greenwich and horncastle fairs, probably by transplanting earlier or later events. time and space submit to him: his old schoolfellows were vainly astonished that he gave no chapters to them and his years at norwich grammar school. thus england seems a great and a strange land on borrow's page, though he does not touch the sea or the mountains, or any celebrated places except stonehenge. his england is strange, i think, because it is presented according to a purely spiritual geography in which the childish drawling of "witney on the windrush manufactures blankets," etc., is utterly forgot. few men have the courage or the power to be honestly impressionistic and to say what they feel instead of compromising between that and what they believe to be "the facts." it is also strange on account of the many adventures which it provides, and these will always attract attention, because england in is not what it was in , but still more because few men, especially writing men, ever take their chance upon the roads of england for a few months together. at the same time it must be granted that borrow had a morbid fear of being dull or at least of being ordinary. he was a partly conscious provider of entertainment when he made the book so thick with incidents, scenes and portraits, and each incident, scene and portrait so perfect after its kind. where he overdoes his emphasis or refinement, can only be decided by differing tastes. some, for example, cannot abide his description of the sleepless man who had at last discovered a perfect opiate in wordsworth's poetry. i find myself stopping short at the effect of sherry and popish leanings on the publican and his trade, and still more the effect of his return to ale and commonsense religion: how everyone bought his liquids and paid for them and wanted to treat him, while the folk of his parish had already made him a churchwarden. this might have been writ sarcastic by a witty papist. probably borrow used the device of recognition and reappearances to satisfy a rather primitive taste in fiction, and to add to the mystery, though i will again suggest that a man who travelled and went about among men as he did would take less offence at these things. the re-appearances of jasper are natural enough, except at the ford when borrow is about to pass into wales: those of ardry less so. but when borrow contrives to hear more of the old china collector and of isopel also from the jockey, and shuffles about the postillion, murtagh, the man in black, and platitude, and introduces sir john bowring for punishment, he makes "the romany rye" much inferior to "lavengro." these devices never succeed, except where their extravagance makes us laugh heartily--as when on salisbury plain he meets returning from botany bay the long lost son of his old london bridge apple-woman. the devices are unnecessary and remain as stiffening stains upon a book that is otherwise full of nature and human nature. chapter xxv--"lavengro" and "the romany rye": the characters as the atmosphere of the two autobiographical books is more intense and pure than that of "the bible in spain," so the characters in it are more elaborate. "the bible in spain" contained brilliant sketches and suggestions of men and women. in the autobiography even the sketches are intimate, like that of the "anglo-germanist," william taylor; and they are not less surprising than the spanish sketches, from the rommany chal who "fought in the old roman fashion. he bit, he kicked, and screamed like a wild cat of benygant; casting foam from his mouth, and fire from his eyes"--from this man upwards and downwards. some are highly finished, and these are not always the best. for example, the portrait of his father, the stiff, kindly, uncomprehending soldier, strikes me as a little too much "done to a turn." it is a little too like a man in a book, and so perfectly consistent, except for that one picturesque weakness--the battle with big ben, whose skin was like a toad. borrow probably saw and cared very little for his father, and therefore found it too easy to idealise and produce a mere type, chiefly out of his head. his mother is more certainly from life, and he could not detach himself from her sufficiently to make her clear; yet he makes her his own mother plainly enough. his brother has something of the same unreality and perfection as his father. these members of his family belong to one distinct class of studies which includes among others the publisher, sir richard phillips. they are of persons not quite of his world whom he presents to us with admiration, or, on the other hand, with dislike, but in either case without sympathy. they do not contribute much to the special character of the autobiography, except in humour. the interviews with sir richard phillips, in particular, give an example of borrow's obviously personal satire, poisonous and yet without rancour. he is a type. he is the charlatan, holy and massive and not perfectly self-convincing. when borrow's money was running low and he asked the publisher to pay for some contributions to a magazine, now deceased: "'sir,' said the publisher, 'what do you want the money for?' "'merely to live on,' i replied; 'it is very difficult to live in this town without money.' "'how much money did you bring with you to town?' demanded the publisher. "'some twenty or thirty pounds,' i replied. "'and you have spent it already?' "'no,' said i, 'not entirely; but it is fast disappearing.' "'sir,' said the publisher, 'i believe you to be extravagant; yes, sir, extravagant!' "'on what grounds do you suppose me to be so?' "'sir,' said the publisher, 'you eat meat.' "'yes,' said i, 'i eat meat sometimes; what should i eat?' "'bread, sir,' said the publisher; 'bread and cheese.' "'so i do, sir, when i am disposed to indulge; but i cannot often afford it--it is very expensive to dine on bread and cheese, especially when one is fond of cheese, as i am. my last bread and cheese dinner cost me fourteen pence. there is drink, sir; with bread and cheese one must drink porter, sir.' "'then, sir, eat bread--bread alone. as good men as yourself have eaten bread alone; they have been glad to get it, sir. if with bread and cheese you must drink porter, sir, with bread alone you can, perhaps, drink water, sir.' "however, i got paid at last for my writings in the review, not, it is true, in the current coin of the realm, but in certain bills; there were two of them, one payable at twelve, and the other at eighteen months after date." the incident serves to diversify the narrative, and may be taken from his own london experiences, while the particular merriment of the rhyme is borrow's; but it is not of the essence of the book, and fits only indifferently into the mysterious "arabian nights" london, the city of the gallant ardry and the old apple-woman who called him "dear" and called moll flanders "blessed mary flanders." sir richard will not mysteriously re-appear, nor will captain and mrs. borrow. i should say, in fact, that characters of this class have scarcely at all the power of motion. what is more, they take us not only a little way out of borrow's world sometimes, but away from borrow himself. apart from these characters, the men and women of "lavengro" and "the romany rye" are all in harmony with one another, with borrow, and with borrow's world. jasper petulengro and his wife, his sister ursula, the gigantic tawno chikno, the witch mrs. herne, and the evil sprite leonora, thurtell, the fighting men, the irish outlaw jerry grant, who was suspected of raising a storm by "something irish and supernatural" to win a fight, murtagh, that wicked innocent, the old apple-woman, blazing bosville, isopel berners, the jockey who drove one hundred and ten miles in eleven hours to see "the only friend he ever had in the world," john thurtell, and say, "god almighty bless you, jack!" before the drop fell, the old gentleman who had learned "sergeant broughton's guard" and knocked out the bullying coachman, the welsh preacher and his wife, the arcadian old bee-keeper, the rat-catcher--all these and their companions are woven into one piece by the genius of their creator, borrow. i can imagine them all greeting him together as the gypsies did, and much as the jockey did afterwards: "here the gipsy gemman see, with his roman jib and his rome and dree-- rome and dree, rum and dry rally round the rommany rye." he waves his wand and they disappear. he made them as jerry grant made the storm and beat sergeant bagg. in "lavengro" he actually does raise such a storm, though knapp affected to discover it in a newspaper of the period. sampson and martin are fighting at north walsham, and a storm comes on: "there's wind and dust, a crash, rain and hail; is it possible to fight amidst such a commotion? yes! the fight goes on; again the boy strikes the man full on the brow, but it is no use striking that man, his frame is of adamant. 'boy, thy strength is beginning to give way, thou art becoming confused'; the man now goes to work, amidst rain and hail. 'boy, thou wilt not hold out ten minutes longer against rain, hail, and the blows of such an antagonist.' "and now the storm was at its height; the black thundercloud had broken into many, which assumed the wildest shapes and the strangest colours, some of them unspeakably glorious; the rain poured in a deluge, and more than one water-spout was seen at no great distance: an immense rabble is hurrying in one direction; a multitude of men of all ranks, peers and yokels, prize-fighters and jews, and the last came to plunder, and are now plundering amidst that wild confusion of hail and rain, men and horses, carts and carriages. but all hurry in one direction, through mud and mire; there's a town only three miles distant which is soon reached, and soon filled, it will not contain one-third of that mighty rabble; but there's another town farther on--the good old city is farther on, only twelve miles; what's that! who'll stay here? onward to the old town. "hurry skurry, a mixed multitude of men and horses, carts and carriages, all in the direction of the old town; and, in the midst of all that mad throng, at a moment when the rain gushes were coming down with particular fury, and the artillery of the sky was pealing as i had never heard it peal before, i felt some one seize me by the arm--i turned round and beheld mr. petulengro. "'i can't hear you, mr. petulengro,' said i; for the thunder drowned the words which he appeared to be uttering. "'dearginni,' i heard mr. petulengro say, 'it thundereth. i was asking, brother, whether you believe in dukkeripens?' "'i do not, mr. petulengro; but this is strange weather to be asking me whether i believe in fortunes.' "'grondinni,' said mr. petulengro, 'it haileth. i believe in dukkeripens, brother.' "'and who has more right,' said i, 'seeing that you live by them? but this tempest is truly horrible.' "'dearginni, grondinni ta villaminni! it thundereth, it haileth, and also flameth,' said mr. petulengro. 'look up there, brother!' "i looked up. connected with this tempest there was one feature to which i have already alluded--the wonderful colours of the clouds. some were of vivid green; others of the brightest orange; others as black as pitch. the gypsy's finger was pointed to a particular part of the sky. "'what do you see there, brother?' "'a strange kind of cloud.' "'what does it look like, brother?' "'something like a stream of blood.' "'that cloud foreshoweth a bloody dukkeripen.' "'a bloody fortune!' said i. 'and whom may it betide?' "'who knows?' said the gypsy. "down the way, dashing and splashing, and scattering man, horse, and cart to the left and right, came an open barouche, drawn by four smoking steeds, with postillions in scarlet jackets, and leather skull-caps. two forms were conspicuous in it; that of the successful bruiser, and of his friend and backer, the sporting gentleman of my acquaintance. "'his!' said the gypsy, pointing to the latter, whose stern features wore a smile of triumph, as, probably recognizing me in the crowd, he nodded in the direction of where i stood, as the barouche hurried by. "there went the barouche, dashing through the rain gushes', and in it one whose boast it was that he was equal to 'either fortune.' many have heard of that man--many may be desirous of knowing yet more of him. i have nothing to do with that man's after life--he fulfilled his dukkeripen. 'a bad, violent man!' softly, friend; when thou wouldst speak harshly of the dead, remember that thou hast not yet fulfilled thy own dukkeripen!" as borrow fits these pugilists into the texture of his autobiography, so he does men who appear not once but a dozen times. take jasper petulengro out of the books and he does not amount to much. in them he is a figure of most masculine beauty, a king, a trickster, and thief, but simple, good with his fists, loving life, manly sport and fair play. he and borrow meet and shake hands as "brothers" when they are little boys. they meet again, by chance, as big boys, and jasper says: "your blood beat when mine was near, as mine always does at the coming of a brother; and we became brothers in that lane." jasper laughs at the sapengro and lavengro and horse-witch because he lacks two things, "mother sense and gentle rommany," and he has something to do with teaching borrow the gypsy tongue and gypsy ways, and the "mother sense" of shifting for himself. the gypsies approve him also as "a pure fist master." in return he teaches mrs. chikno's child to say his prayers in rommany. they were willing--all but mrs. herne--that he should marry mr. petulengro's sister, ursula. it is always by chance that they meet, and chance is very favourable. they meet at significant times, as when borrow has been troubled by the preacher and the state of his own soul, or when he is sick of london and hack-writing and poverty. in fact, the gypsies, and his "brother" jasper in particular, returning and returning, are the motive of the book. they connect borrow with what is strange, with what is simple, and with what is free. the very last words of "the romany rye," spoken as he is walking eastward, are "i shouldn't wonder if mr. petulengro and tawno chikno came originally from india. i think i'll go there." they are not a device. the re-appearances of these wandering men are for the most part only pleasantly unexpected. their mystery is the mystery of nature and life. they keep their language and their tents against the mass of civilization and length of time. they are foreigners but as native as the birds. it is borrow's triumph to make them as romantic as their reputation while yet satisfying gypsy students as to his facts. jasper is almost like a second self, a kind of more simple, atavistic self, to borrow, as in that characteristic picture, where he is drawing near to wales with his friends, the welsh preacher and his wife. a brook is the border and they point it out. there is a horseman entering it: "he stops in the middle of it as if to water his steed." they ask lavengro if he will come with them into wales. they persuade him: "'i will not go with you,' said i. 'dost thou see that man in the ford?' "'who is staring at us so, and whose horse has not yet done drinking? of course i see him.' "'i shall turn back with him. god bless you!' "'go back with him not,' said peter, 'he is one of those whom i like not, one of the clibberty-clabber, as master ellis wyn observes--turn not with that man.' "'go not back with him,' said winifred. 'if thou goest with that man, thou wilt soon forget all our profitable counsels; come with us.' "'i cannot; i have much to say to him. kosko divous, mr. petulengro.' "'kosko divvus, pal,' said mr. petulengro, riding through the water; 'are you turning back?' "i turned back with mr. petulengro." at another time jasper twists about like a weasel bewitching a bird, and in so doing puts pounds unnoticed into lavengro's pocket. lavengro is indignant at the pleasantry. but jasper insists; the money is for him to buy a certain horse; if he will not take the money and buy the horse there will be a quarrel. he has made the money by fair fighting in the ring, has nowhere to put it, and seriously thinks that it were best invested in this fine horse, which accordingly borrow purchases and takes across england, and sells at horncastle fair for pounds. the next scene shows tawno chikno at his best. borrow has been trotting the horse and racing it against a cob, amid a company that put him "wonderfully in mind of the ancient horse-races of the heathen north," so that he almost thought himself gunnar of lithend. but tawno was the man to try the horse at a jump, said jasper. tawno weighed sixteen stone, and the owner thought him more likely to break the horse's back. jasper became very much excited, and offered to forfeit a handful of guineas if harm was done. "'here's the man. here's the horse-leaper of the world. . . .' tawno, at a bound, leaped into the saddle, where he really looked like gunnar of hlitharend, save and except that the complexion of gunnar was florid, whereas that of tawno was of nearly mulatto darkness; and that all tawno's features were cast in the grecian model, whereas gunnar had a snub nose. 'there's a leaping-bar behind the house,' said the landlord. 'leaping-bar!' said mr. petulengro, scornfully. 'do you think my black pal ever rides at a leaping bar? no more than at a windle-straw. leap over that meadow wall, tawno.' just past the house, in the direction in which i had been trotting, was a wall about four feet high, beyond which was a small meadow. tawno rode the horse gently up to the wall, permitted him to look over, then backed him for about ten yards, and pressing his calves against the horse's sides, he loosed the rein, and the horse launching forward, took the leap in gallant style. 'well done, man and horse!' said mr. petulengro; 'now come back, tawno.' the leap from the side of the meadow was, however, somewhat higher; and the horse, when pushed at it, at first turned away; whereupon tawno backed him to a greater distance, pushed the horse to a full gallop, giving a wild cry; whereupon the horse again took the wall, slightly grazing one of his legs against it. 'a near thing,' said the landlord, 'but a good leap. now, no more leaping, so long as i have control over the animal.'" a very different beautiful scene is where mrs. petulengro braids isopel's fair hair in gypsy fashion, half against her will, and lavengro looks on, showing isopel at a glance his disapproval of the fashion, while petulengro admires it. if it is not too much to quote, i will do so, because it is the clearest and most detailed picture of more than one figure in the whole of the autobiography. mr. and mrs. petulengro have come to visit isopel, and lavengro has fetched her to his tent, where they are awaiting her: "so belle and i advanced towards our guests. as we drew nigh mr. petulengro took off his hat and made a profound obeisance to belle, whilst mrs. petulengro rose from her stool and made a profound curtsey. belle, who had flung her hair back over her shoulders, returned their salutations by bending her head, and after slightly glancing at mr. petulengro, fixed her large blue eyes full upon his wife. both these females were very handsome--but how unlike! belle fair, with blue eyes and flaxen hair; mrs. petulengro with olive complexion, eyes black, and hair dark--as dark could be. belle, in demeanour calm and proud; the gypsy graceful, but full of movement and agitation. and then how different were those two in stature! the head of the romany rawnie scarcely ascended to the breast of isopel berners. i could see that mrs. petulengro gazed on belle with unmixed admiration: so did her husband. 'well,' said the latter, 'one thing i will say, which is, that there is only one on earth worthy to stand up in front of this she, and that is the beauty of the world, as far as man flesh is concerned, tawno chikno; what a pity he did not come down! . . .' "mrs. petulengro says: 'you are very beautiful, madam, though you are not dressed as i could wish to see you, and your hair is hanging down in sad confusion; allow me to assist you in arranging your hair, madam; i will dress it for you in our fashion; i would fain see how your hair would look in our poor gypsy fashion; pray allow me, madam?' and she took belle by the hand. "'i really can do no such thing,' said belle, withdrawing her hand; 'i thank you for coming to see me, but . . .' "'do allow me to officiate upon your hair, madam,' said mrs. petulengro; 'i should esteem your allowing me a great mark of condescension. you are very beautiful, madam, and i think you doubly so, because you are so fair; i have a great esteem for persons with fair complexions and hair; i have a less regard for people with dark hair and complexions, madam.' "'then why did you turn off the lord, and take up with me?' said mr. petulengro; 'that same lord was fair enough all about him.' "'people do when they are young and silly what they sometimes repent of when they are of riper years and understandings. i sometimes think that had i not been something of a simpleton, i might at this time be a great court lady. now, madam,' said she, again taking belle by the hand, 'do oblige me by allowing me to plait your hair a little?' "'i have really a good mind to be angry with you,' said belle, giving mrs. petulengro a peculiar glance. "'do allow her to arrange your hair,' said i, 'she means no harm, and wishes to do you honour; do oblige her and me too, for i should like to see how your hair would look dressed in her fashion.' "'you hear what the young rye says?' said mrs. petulengro. 'i am sure you will oblige the young rye, if not myself. many people would be willing to oblige the young rye, if he would but ask them; but he is not in the habit of asking favours. he has a nose of his own, which he keeps tolerably exalted; he does not think small-beer of himself, madam; and all the time i have been with him, i never heard him ask a favour before; therefore, madam, i am sure you will oblige him.' . . ." the men talk together, jasper telling about the passing of the "old-fashioned good-tempered constables," the advent of railways, and the spoiling of road life. ". . . 'now, madam,' said mrs. petulengro, 'i have braided your hair in our fashion: you look very beautiful, madam; more beautiful, if possible, than before.' belle now rose, and came forward with her tire-woman. mr. petulengro was loud in his applause, but i said nothing, for i did not think belle was improved in appearance by having submitted to the ministry of mrs. petulengro's hand. nature never intended belle to appear as a gypsy; she had made her too proud and serious. a more proper part for her was that of a heroine, a queenly heroine,--that of theresa of hungary, for example; or, better still, that of brynhilda the valkyrie, the beloved of sigurd, the serpent-killer, who incurred the curse of odin, because, in the tumult of spears, she sided with the young king, and doomed the old warrior to die, to whom odin had promised victory. "belle looked at me for a moment in silence; then turning to mrs. petulengro, she said, 'you have had your will with me; are you satisfied?' 'quite so, madam,' said mrs. petulengro, 'and i hope you will be so too, as soon as you have looked in the glass.' 'i have looked in one already,' said belle,' and the glass does not flatter.' . . ." here it is easy to notice how the uncolloquial and even ugly english does not destroy the illusion of the scene, but entirely subserves it and makes these two or three pages fine painter's work for richness and still drama. i have not forgotten the man in black, though i gladly would. not that i am any more in sympathy with his theology than borrow's, if it is more interesting and venerable. but in this priest, borrow's method, always instinctively intense if not exaggerated, falls to caricature. i have no objection to caricature; when it is of a logical or incidental kind i enjoy it, even in "the romany rye"; i enjoy, for example, the snoring wordsworthian, without any prejudice against wordsworth. "the catholic times" as late as was still angry with borrow's "crass anti-catholic bigotry." i should have expected them to laugh consumedly at a priest, a parson and a publican who deserve places in the same gallery with wicked earls and noble savages of popular fiction. it may be true that this "creation of borrow's most studied hatred" is, as mr. seccombe says, { } "a triumph of complex characterisation." he is "a joyous liver and an unscrupulous libertine, sceptical as voltaire, as atheistic as a german professor, as practical as a jew banker, as subtle as a jesuit, he has as many ways of converting the folks among whom he is thrown as panurge had of eating the corn in ear. for the simple and credulous--crosses and beads; for the hard-hearted and venal--material considerations; for the cultured and educated--a fine tissue of epigrams and anthropology; for the ladies--flattery and badinage. a spiritual ancestor of anatole france's marvellous full-length figure of jerome coignard, borrow's conception takes us back first to rabelais and secondly to the seventeenth-century conviction of the profound machiavellism of jesuitry." but in "lavengro" and "the romany rye" he is an intruder with a design of turning these books into tracts. he is treated far more elaborately than any other character except the author's, and with a massive man's striving after subtlety. moreover, borrow has made it impossible to ignore him or to cut him out, by interlacing him with every other character in these two books. with sad persistency and naive ingenuity he brings it about that every one shall see, or have seen in the past, this terrible priest. borrow's natural way of dealing with such a man would be that of the converted pugilist who, on hearing of an atheist in the vicinity, wanted to go and "knock the beggar down for jesus' sake"; and a variation upon this would have been delightful and in harmony with the rest of the book. but clever as the priest is, borrow himself is stronger, honester and cleverer, too. of course, the priest leads him to some good things. above all, he leads to the incident of the half-converted publican, who is being ruined by sherry and popery. borrow pursuades him to take ale, which gives him the courage to give up thoughts of conversion, and to turn on his enemies and re-establish himself, to make a good business, become a churchwarden, and teach boxing to the brewer's sons, because it is "a fine manly english art and a great defence against popery." it is at least a greater defence than borrow's pen, or deserves to be. chapter xxvi--"lavengro" and "the romany rye": the style the writing of the autobiography differs from that of "the bible in spain." it is less flowing and more laboured. it has less movement and buoyancy, but more delicacy and variety. it is a finer and more intimate style, which over and over again distinguishes borrow from the victorian pure and simple. the dialogue is finer; it is used less to disguise or vary narrative, and more to reveal character and make dramatic effect; and it is even lyrical at times. borrow can be victorian still. this example is from the old man's history in "the romany rye": "my mother had died about three years previously. i felt the death of my mother keenly, but that of my father less than was my duty; indeed, truth compels me to acknowledge that i scarcely regretted his death. the cause of this want of proper filial feeling was the opposition which i had experienced from him in an affair which deeply concerned me. i had formed an attachment for a young female in the neighbourhood, who, though poor, was of highly respectable birth, her father having been a curate of the established church." this better one is from "lavengro": "and then francis ardry proceeded to make me his confidant. it appeared that he had had the good fortune to make the acquaintance of the most delightful young frenchwoman imaginable, annette la noire by name, who had just arrived from her native country with the intention of obtaining the situation of governess in some english family; a position which, on account of her many accomplishments, she was eminently qualified to fill. francis ardry had, however, persuaded her to relinquish her intention for the present, on the ground that, until she had become acclimated in england, her health would probably suffer from the confinement inseparable from the occupation in which she was desirous of engaging; he had, moreover--for it appeared that she was the most frank and confiding creature in the world--succeeded in persuading her to permit him to hire for her a very handsome first floor in his own neighbourhood, and to accept a few inconsiderable presents in money and jewellery." but coarse and rigid as this is the same vocabulary, the same ample, oratorical tone, will help borrow to genial, substantial effects such as the dinner with the landlord and the commercial traveller: "the dinner was good, though plain, consisting of boiled mackerel--rather a rarity in those parts at that time--with fennel sauce, a prime baron of roast beef after the mackerel, then a tart and noble cheshire cheese; we had prime sherry at dinner, and whilst eating the cheese prime porter, that of barclay, the only good porter in the world. after the cloth was removed we had a bottle of very good port; and whilst partaking of the port i had an argument with the commercial traveller on the subject of the corn-laws." what is more, this is the vocabulary and tone of the whole book, and how far the total effect is from coarseness and rigidity i cannot show now if i have not done so already. borrow's gusto triumphs over this style in descriptions of men riding, fighting, talking or drinking. his sense of mystery triumphs over it continually as the prevailing atmosphere must prove. the gusto and the mystery are all the more impressive because the means are entirely concealed, except when the writer draws himself up for an apostrophe, and that is not much too often nor always tedious. the style is capable of essential simplicity, though not of refined simplicity, just as a man with a hard hat, black clothes and a malacca cane may be a good deal simpler and more at home with natural things than a hairy hygienic gentleman. i will quote one example--the old bee-keeper in "the romany rye": "i was bidding him farewell, when he hemmed once or twice, and said that as he did not live far off, he hoped that i would go with him and taste some of his mead. as i had never tasted mead, of which i had frequently read in the compositions of the welsh bards, and, moreover, felt rather thirsty from the heat of the day, i told him that i should have great pleasure in attending him. whereupon, turning off together, we proceeded about half a mile, sometimes between stone walls, and at other times hedges, till we reached a small hamlet, through which we passed, and presently came to a very pretty cottage, delightfully situated within a garden, surrounded by a hedge of woodbines. opening a gate at one corner of the garden, he led the way to a large shed which stood partly behind the cottage, which he said was his stable; thereupon he dismounted and led his donkey into the shed, which was without stalls, but had a long rack and manger. on one side he tied his donkey, after taking off her caparisons, and i followed his example, tying my horse at the other side with a rope halter which he gave me; he then asked me to come in and taste his mead, but i told him that i must attend to the comfort of my horse first, and forthwith, taking a wisp of straw, rubbed him carefully down. then taking a pailful of clear water which stood in the shed, i allowed the horse to drink about half a pint; and then turning to the old man, who all the time had stood by looking at my proceedings, i asked him whether he had any oats? 'i have all kinds of grain,' he replied; and, going out, he presently returned with two measures, one a large and the other a small one, both filled with oats, mixed with a few beans, and handing the large one to me for the horse, he emptied the other before the donkey, who, before she began to despatch it, turned her nose to her master's face and fairly kissed him. having given my horse his portion, i told the old man that i was ready to taste his mead as soon as he pleased, whereupon he ushered me into his cottage, where, making me sit down by a deal table in a neatly-sanded kitchen, he produced from an old- fashioned closet a bottle, holding about a quart, and a couple of cups, which might each contain about half a pint, then opening the bottle and filling the cups with a brown-coloured liquor, he handed one to me, and taking a seat opposite to me, he lifted the other, nodded, and saying to me--'health and welcome,' placed it to his lips and drank. "'health and thanks,' i replied; and being very thirsty, emptied my cup at a draught; i had scarcely done so, however, when i half repented. the mead was deliciously sweet and mellow, but appeared strong as brandy; my eyes reeled in my head, and my brain became slightly dizzy. 'mead is a strong drink,' said the old man, as he looked at me, with a half smile on his countenance. 'this is, at any rate,' said i, 'so strong, indeed, that i would not drink another cup for any consideration.' 'and i would not ask you,' said the old man; 'for, if you did, you would most probably be stupid all day, and wake next morning with a headache. mead is a good drink, but woundily strong, especially to those who be not used to it, as i suppose you are not.' 'where do you get it?' said i. 'i make it myself,' said the old man, 'from the honey which my bees make.' 'have you many bees?' i inquired. 'a great many,' said the old man. 'and do you keep them,' said i, 'for the sake of making mead with their honey?' 'i keep them,' he replied, 'partly because i am fond of them, and partly for what they bring me in; they make me a great deal of honey, some of which i sell, and with a little i make me some mead to warm my poor heart with, or occasionally to treat a friend with like yourself.' 'and do you support yourself entirely by means of your bees?' 'no,' said the old man; 'i have a little bit of ground behind my house, which is my principal means of support.' 'and do you live alone?' 'yes,' said he; 'with the exception of the bees and the donkey, i live quite alone.' 'and have you always lived alone?' the old man emptied his cup, and his heart being warmed with the mead, he told me his history, which was simplicity itself. his father was a small yeoman, who, at his death, had left him, his only child, the cottage, with a small piece of ground behind it, and on this little property he had lived ever since. about the age of twenty- five he had married an industrious young woman, by whom he had one daughter, who died before reaching years of womanhood. his wife, however, had survived her daughter many years, and had been a great comfort to him, assisting him in his rural occupations; but, about four years before the present period, he had lost her, since which time he had lived alone, making himself as comfortable as he could; cultivating his ground, with the help of a lad from the neighbouring village, attending to his bees, and occasionally riding his donkey to market, and hearing the word of god, which he said he was sorry he could not read, twice a week regularly at the parish church. such was the old man's tale. "when he had finished speaking, he led me behind his house, and showed me his little domain. it consisted of about two acres in admirable cultivation; a small portion of it formed a kitchen garden, while the rest was sown with four kinds of grain, wheat, barley, pease, and beans. the air was full of ambrosial sweets, resembling those proceeding from an orange grove; a place, which though i had never seen at that time, i since have. in the garden was the habitation of the bees, a long box, supported upon three oaken stumps. it was full of small round glass windows, and appeared to be divided into a great many compartments, much resembling drawers placed sideways. he told me that, as one compartment was filled, the bees left it for another; so that, whenever he wanted honey, he could procure some without injuring the insects. through the little round windows i could see several of the bees at work; hundreds were going in and out of the doors; hundreds were buzzing about on the flowers, the woodbines, and beans. as i looked around on the well-cultivated field, the garden, and the bees, i thought i had never before seen so rural and peaceful a scene." it may be said of this that it is the style of the time, modified inexplicably at almost every point by the writer's character. the bible and the older-fashioned narrative english of defoe and smollett have obviously lent it some phrases, and also a nakedness and directness that is half disdainful of the emotions and colours which it cannot hide. still further to qualify the victorianism which he was heir to, borrow took over something from the insinuating sterne. mr. thomas seccombe { } has noticed sterne particularly in borrow's picture of his father, one of the most deliberate and artificial portions of the book: "the ironical humour blent with pathos in his picture of this ill-rewarded old disciplinarian (who combined a tenderness of heart with a fondness for military metaphor that frequently reminds one of 'my uncle toby'), the details of the ailments and the portents that attended his infantile career, and, above all, the glimpses of the wandering military life from barrack to barrack and from garrison to garrison, inevitably remind the reader of the childish reminiscences of laurence sterne, a writer to whom it may thus early be said that george borrow paid no small amount of unconscious homage." the same critic has remarked on "the sterne-like conclusion of a chapter: 'italy--what was i going to say about italy?'" it was perhaps sterne who taught him the use of the dash when no more words are necessary or ready to meet the case, and also when no more are permissible by contemporary taste. the passage where ardry and his french mistress talk to borrow, she using her own language, is like "the sentimental journey." and, as mr. seccombe has suggested, borrow found in sterne's a precedent for the rate of progress in his autobiography. but innumerable are the possible styles which combine something from the bible, defoe, and sterne, with something else upon a victorian foundation. borrow's something else, which dominates and welds the rest, is the most important. it expresses the man, or rather it allows the man's qualities to appear, his melancholy, his independence, his curiosity, his love of strong men and horses. of little felicities there are very few. it has gusto always at command, and mystery also. we feel in it a kind of reality not often associated with professional literature, but rather with the letters of men who are not writers and with the speech of illiterate men of character. the great difference between them and borrow is that their speech can rarely be represented in print except by another genius, and that their letters only now and then reach the level which borrow continues at and often rises above. yet he has something in common with such men--for example, in his feeling for nature. in spain, it is true, he gave way to declamatory descriptions of grandeur and desolation: in england, where he saw nothing of the kind, he wrote little description, and the impression of the country through which he is passing is that of an inarticulate outdoor man, strong and sincere but vague. here, again, he has something in common with the eighteenth- century man, who liked the country, but would probably agree that one green field was like another. he writes like the man who desired a gentle wife, an arabic book, the haunch of a buck, and madeira old. he reminds us of an even older or simpler type when he apostrophises the retired pugilist: "'tis a treat to see thee, tom of bedford, in thy 'public' in holborn way, whither thou hast retired with thy well-earned bays. 'tis friday night, and nine by holborn clock. there sits the yeoman at the end of his long room, surrounded by his friends: glasses are filled, and a song is the cry, and a song is sung well suited to the place; it finds an echo in every heart--fists are clenched, arms are waved, and the portraits of the mightly fighting men of yore, broughton, and slack, and ben, which adorn the walls, appear to smile grim approbation, whilst many a manly voice joins in the bold chorus: 'here's a health to old honest john bull, when he's gone we shan't find such another, and with hearts and with glasses brim full, we will drink to old england, his mother.'" there is little doubt of the immortality of this good old style, and it testifies to the full heart and perhaps the full glass also of george borrow; but it was not this passage in particular that made whitwell elwin call his writing "almost affectedly simple." {picture: ned turner, tom cribb: page .jpg} chapter xxvii--borrow and low life "lavengro" in and "the romany rye" in failed to impress the critics or the public. men were disappointed because "lavengro" was "not an autobiography." they said that the adventures did not bear "the impress of truth." they suggested that the anti-papistry was "added and interpolated to suit the occasion of the recent papal aggression." they laughed at its mystery-making. they said that it gave "a false dream in the place of reality." ford regretted that borrow had "told so little about himself." two friends praised it and foretold long life for it. whitwell elwin in said that "the truth and vividness of the descriptions both of scenes and persons, coupled with the purity, force and simplicity of the language, should confer immortality upon many of its pages." "the saturday review" found that he had humour and romance, and that his writing left "a general impression of the scenery and persons introduced so strongly vivid and life-like," that it reminded them of defoe rather than of any contemporary author; they called the books a "strange cross between a novel and an autobiography." in also, emile montegut wrote a study of "the gypsy gentleman," which he published in his "ecrivains modernes de l'angleterre." he said that borrow had revived a neglected literary form, not artificially, but as being the natural frame for the scenes of his wandering life: he even went so far as to say that the form and manner of the picaresque or rogue novel, like "gil blas," is the inevitable one for pictures of the low and vagabond life. this form, said he, borrow adopted not deliberately but intuitively, because he had a certain attitude to express: he rediscovered it, as cervantes and mendoza invented it, because it was the most appropriate clothing for his conceptions. borrow had, without any such ambition, become the quevedo and the mendoza of modern england. the autobiography resembles the rogue novel in that it is well peppered with various isolated narratives strung upon the thread of the hero's experience. it differs chiefly in that the study of the hero is serious and without roguery. the conscious attempt to make it as good as a rogue novel on its own ground caused some of the chief faults of the book, the excess of recognitions and re-appearances, the postillion's story, and the visits of the man in black. when borrow came to answer his critics in the appendix to "the romany rye," he assumed that they thought him vulgar for dealing in gypsies and the like. he retorted: "rank, wealth, fine clothes and dignified employments, are no doubt very fine things, but they are merely externals, they do not make a gentleman, they add external grace and dignity to the gentleman and scholar, but they make neither; and is it not better to be a gentleman without them than not a gentleman with them? is not lavengro, when he leaves london on foot with twenty pounds in his pocket, entitled to more respect than mr. flamson flaming in his coach with a million? and is not even the honest jockey at horncastle, who offers a fair price to lavengro for his horse, entitled to more than the scroundrel lord, who attempts to cheat him of one-fourth of its value. . . ." he might have said the books were a long tract to prove that many waters cannot quench gentlemanliness, or "once a gentleman always a gentleman." as a rule, when borrow gets away from life and begins to think about it, he ceases to be an individual and becomes a tame and entirely convenient member of society, fit for the commission of the peace or a berth at the british museum. after he has made pounds by pen-slavery and saved himself from serious poverty, he exclaims: "reader, amidst the difficulties and dangers of this life, should you ever be tempted to despair, call to mind these latter chapters of the life of lavengro. there are few positions, however difficult, from which dogged resolution and perseverance may not liberate you." when he comes to discuss his own work he says that "it represents him, however, as never forgetting that he is the son of a brave but poor gentleman, and that if he is a hack author, he is likewise a scholar. it shows him doing no dishonourable jobs, and proves that if he occasionally associates with low characters, he does so chiefly to gratify the curiosity of a scholar. in his conversations with the apple-woman of london bridge, the scholar is ever apparent, so again in his acquaintance with the man of the table, for the book is no raker up of the uncleanness of london, and if it gives what at first sight appears refuse, it invariably shows that a pearl of some kind, generally a philological one, is contained amongst it; it shows its hero always accompanied by his love of independence, scorning in the greatest poverty to receive favours from anybody, and describes him finally rescuing himself from peculiarly miserable circumstances by writing a book, an original book, within a week, even as johnson is said to have written his 'rasselas,' and beckford his 'vathek,' and tells how, leaving london, he betakes himself to the roads and fields. "in the country it shows him leading a life of roving adventure, becoming tinker, gypsy, postillion, ostler; associating with various kinds of people, chiefly of the lower classes, whose ways and habits are described; but, though leading this erratic life, we gather from the book that his habits are neither vulgar nor vicious, that he still follows to a certain extent his favourite pursuits, hunting after strange characters, or analysing strange words and names. at the conclusion of chapter xlvii., which terminates the first part of the history, it hints that he is about to quit his native land on a grand philological expedition. "those who read this book with attention--and the author begs to observe that it would be of little utility to read it hurriedly--may derive much information with respect to matters of philology and literature; it will be found treating of most of the principal languages from ireland to china, and of the literature which they contain. . . ." away from the dingle and jasper his view of life is as follows--ale, tate and brady, and the gloves: "but, above all, the care and providence of god are manifested in the case of lavengro himself, by the manner in which he is enabled to make his way in the world up to a certain period, without falling a prey either to vice or poverty. in his history there is a wonderful illustration of part of the text quoted by his mother, 'i have been young, and now am old, yet never saw i the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging bread.' he is the son of good and honourable parents, but at the critical period of life, that of entering into the world, he finds himself without any earthly friend to help him, yet he manages to make his way; he does not become a captain in the life guards, it is true, nor does he get into parliament, nor does the last chapter conclude in the most satisfactory and unobjectionable manner, by his marrying a dowager countess, as that wise man addison did, or by his settling down as a great country gentleman, perfectly happy and contented, like the very moral roderick random, or the equally estimable peregrine pickle; he is hack author, gypsy, tinker, and postillion, yet, upon the whole, he seems to be quite as happy as the younger sons of most earls, to have as high feelings of honour; and when the reader loses sight of him, he has money in his pocket honestly acquired, to enable him to commence a journey quite as laudable as those which the younger sons of earls generally undertake. surely all this is a manifestation of the kindness and providence of god: and yet he is not a religious person; up to the time when the reader loses sight of him, he is decidedly not a religious person; he has glimpses, it is true, of that god who does not forsake him, but he prays very seldom, is not fond of going to church; and, though he admires tate and brady's version of the psalms, his admiration is rather caused by the beautiful poetry which that version contains than the religion; yet his tale is not finished--like the tale of the gentleman who touched objects, and that of the old man who knew chinese without knowing what was o'clock; perhaps, like them, he is destined to become religious, and to have, instead of occasional glimpses, frequent and distinct views of his god; yet, though he may become religious, it is hardly to be expected that he will become a very precise and strait-laced person; it is probable that he will retain, with his scholarship, something of his gypsyism, his predilection for the hammer and tongs, and perhaps some inclination to put on certain gloves, not white kid, with any friend who may be inclined for a little old english diversion, and a readiness to take a glass of ale, with plenty of malt in it, and as little hop as may well be--ale at least two years old--with the aforesaid friend, when the diversion is over; for, as it is the belief of the writer that a person may get to heaven very comfortably without knowing what's o'clock, so it is his belief that he will not be refused admission there because to the last he has been fond of healthy and invigorating exercises, and felt a willingness to partake of any of the good things which it pleases the almighty to put within the reach of his children during their sojourn upon earth." it is quite evident then that borrow does not advocate the open air, the tinkers' trade, and a-roving-a-roving, for the sons of gentlemen. it is not apparent that the open air did his health much good. as for tinkering, it was, he declares, a necessity and for lack of anything better to do, and he realised that he was only playing at it. when he was looking for a subject for his pen he rejected harry simms and jemmy abershaw because both, though bold and extraordinary men, were "merely highwaymen." on the other hand, when he has known a "bad man" he cannot content himself with mere disapproval. take, for example, his friends the murderers, haggart and thurtell. he shows haggart as an ambitious lad too full of life, "with fine materials for a hero." he calls the fatalist's question: "can an arabian steed submit to be a vile drudge?"--nonsense, saying: "the greatest victory which a man can achieve is over himself, by which is meant those unruly passions which are not convenient to the time and place." then he exclaims: "but peace to thee, poor david! why should a mortal worm be sitting in judgment over thee? the mighty and just one has already judged thee, and perhaps above thou hast received pardon for thy crimes, which could not be pardoned here below; and now that thy feverish existence has closed, and thy once active form become inanimate dust, thy very memory all but forgotten, i will say a few words about thee, a few words soon also to be forgotten. thou wast the most extraordinary robber that ever lived within the belt of britain; scotland rang with thy exploits, and england, too, north of the humber; strange deeds also didst thou achieve when, fleeing from justice, thou didst find thyself in the sister isle; busy wast thou there in town and on curragh, at fair and race-course, and also in the solitary place. ireland thought thee her child, for who spoke her brogue better than thyself?--she felt proud of thee, and said, 'sure, o'hanlon is come again.' what might not have been thy fate in the far west in america, whither thou hadst turned thine eye, saying, 'i will go there, and become an honest man!' but thou wast not to go there, david--the blood which thou hadst shed in scotland was to be required of thee; the avenger was at hand, the avenger of blood. seized, manacled, brought back to thy native land, condemned to die, thou wast left in thy narrow cell, and told to make the most of thy time, for it was short; and there, in thy narrow cell, and thy time so short, thou didst put the crowning stone to thy strange deeds, by that strange history of thyself, penned by thine own hand in the robber tongue. thou mightest have been better employed, david!--but the ruling passion was strong with thee, even in the jaws of death. thou mightest have been better employed!--but peace be with thee, i repeat, and the almighty's grace and pardon." he makes the jockey speak in the same fashion of thurtell whom he went to see hanged, according to an old agreement: "i arrived at h--- just in the nick of time. there was the ugly jail--the scaffold--and there upon it stood the only friend i ever had in the world. driving my punch, which was all in a foam, into the midst of the crowd, which made way for me as if it knew what i came for, i stood up in my gig, took off my hat, and shouted, 'god almighty bless you, jack!' the dying man turned his pale grim face towards me--for his face was always somewhat grim, do you see--nodded and said, or i thought i heard him say, 'all right, old chap.' the next moment . . . my eyes water. he had a high heart, got into a scrape whilst in the marines, lost his half-pay, took to the turf, ring, gambling, and at last cut the throat of a villain who had robbed him of nearly all he had. but he had good qualities, and i know for certain that he never did half the bad things laid to his charge; for example, he never bribed tom oliver to fight cross, as it was said he did, on the day of the awful thunderstorm. ned flatnose fairly beat tom oliver, for though ned was not what's called a good fighter, he had a particular blow, which if he could put in he was sure to win. his right shoulder, do you see, was two inches farther back than it ought to have been, and consequently his right fist generally fell short; but if he could swing himself round, and put in a blow with that right arm, he could kill or take away the senses of anybody in the world. it was by putting in that blow in his second fight with spring that he beat noble tom. spring beat him like a sack in the first battle, but in the second ned painter--for that was his real name--contrived to put in his blow, and took the senses out of spring; and in like manner he took the senses out of tom oliver. "well, some are born to be hanged, and some are not; and many of those who are not hanged are much worse than those who are. jack, with many a good quality, is hanged, whilst that fellow of a lord, who wanted to get the horse from you at about two-thirds of his value, without a single good quality in the world, is not hanged, and probably will remain so. you ask the reason why, perhaps. i'll tell you: the lack of a certain quality called courage, which jack possessed in abundance, will preserve him; from the love which he bears his own neck he will do nothing that can bring him to the gallows." isopel berners, with moses and david in her mind, expresses borrow's private opinion more soberly when she says: "_fear god_, and take your own part. there's bible in that, young man; see how moses feared god, and how he took his own part against everybody who meddled with him. and see how david feared god, and took his own part against all the bloody enemies which surrounded him--so fear god, young man, and never give in! the world can bully, and is fond, provided it sees a man in a kind of difficulty, of getting about him, calling him coarse names, and even going so far as to hustle him; but the world, like all bullies, carries a white feather in its tail, and no sooner sees the man taking off his coat, and offering to fight its best, than it scatters here and there, and is always civil to him afterwards. so when folks are disposed to ill-treat you, young man, say 'lord, have mercy upon me!' and then tip them long melford, to which, as the saying goes, there is nothing comparable for shortness all the world over." {picture: the green, long melford, suffolk. photo: c. f. emeny, sudbury: page .jpg} he had probably a natural inclination towards a liberal or eccentric morality, but he was no thinker, and he gave way to a middle-class phraseology--with exceptions, as when he gives it as the opinion of his old master, the norwich solicitor, that "all first-rate thieves were sober, and of well-regulated morals, their bodily passions being kept in abeyance by their love of gain." sometimes borrow allows these two sides of him, his private and his social sides, to appear together dramatically. for example, he more than half seriously advises jasper to read the scriptures and learn his duty to his fellow-creatures and his duty to his own soul, lest he should be ranked with those who are "outcast, despised and miserable." whereupon jasper questions him and gets him to admit that the gypsies are very much like the cuckoos, roguish, chaffing birds that everybody is glad to see again: "'you would wish to turn the cuckoos into barn-door fowls, wouldn't you?' "'can't say i should, jasper, whatever some people might wish.' "'and the chals and chies into radical weavers and factory wenches, hey, brother?' "'can't say that i should, jasper. you are certainly a picturesque people, and in many respects an ornament both to town and country; painting and lil writing too are under great obligations to you. what pretty pictures are made out of your campings and groupings, and what pretty books have been written in which gypsies, or at least creatures intended to represent gypsies, have been the principal figures! i think if we were without you, we should begin to miss you.' "'just as you would the cuckoos, if they were all converted into barn- door fowls. i tell you what, brother, frequently as i have sat under a hedge in spring or summer time, and heard the cuckoo, i have thought that we chals and cuckoos are alike in many respects, but especially in character. everybody speaks ill of us both, and everybody is glad to see both of us again.' "'yes, jasper, but there is some difference between men and cuckoos; men have souls, jasper!' "'and why not cuckoos, brother?' "'you should not talk so, jasper; what you say is little short of blasphemy. how should a bird have a soul?' "'and how should a man?' "'oh, we know very well that a man has a soul.' "'how do you know it?' "'we know very well.' "'would you take your oath of it, brother--your bodily oath?' "'why, i think i might, jasper!'" there is no doubt that borrow liked a strong or an extraordinary man none the less for being a scoundrel. there is equally little doubt that he never demeaned himself with the lower orders. he never pretended, and was seldom taken, to be one of themselves. his attitude differed in degree, but not in kind, from that of a frank, free squire or parson towards keepers, fishermen or labourers. and if he did not drink and swear on an equality with them, neither did he crankily worship them as fitzgerald did "posh," the fisherman. they respected him--at least so he tells us--and he never gives himself away to any other effect--because he was honest, courageous and fair. thus he never gave cause for suspicion as a man does who throws off the cloak of class, and he was probably as interesting to them as they to him. nor did his refusal to adopt their ways and manners out and out prevent a very genuine kind of equality from existing between him and some of them. a man or woman of equal character and force became his equal, as jasper did, as isopel and david haggart did, and he accepted this equality without a trace of snobbishness. he says himself that he has "no abstract love for what is low, or what the world calls low." certainly there is nothing low in his familiars, as he presents them, at least nothing sordid. it may be the result of unconscious idealisation, but his gypsies have nothing more sordid about them than wild birds have. mrs. herne is diabolical, but in a manner that would not be unbecoming to a duchess. leonora is treacherous, but as an elf is permitted to be. as for jasper and mrs. petulengro, they are as radiant as mercutio and rosalind. they have all the sweetness of unimprisoned air: they would prefer, like borrow, "the sound of the leaves and the tinkling of the waters" to the parson and the church; and the smell of the stable, which is strong in "lavengro" and "the romany rye," to the smell of the congregation and the tombs. chapter xxviii--walking tours when borrow had almost finished "the romany rye" he went on a visit to his cousins in cornwall. the story of his saving a man's life in a stormy sea had reached them, and they sent him an invitation, which he accepted at christmas time in . he stayed for a fortnight with a cousin's married daughter, mrs. anne taylor, at penquite farm, near liskeard, and then several days again after a fortnight spent on a walk to land's end and back. in his last week he walked to tintagel and pentire. he was welcomed with hospitality and admiration. he in turn seems to have been pleased and at his ease, though he only understood half of what was said. those who remember his visit speak of his tears in the house where his father was born, of his sitting in the centre of a group telling stories of his travels and singing a gypsy song, of his singing foreign songs all day out of doors, of his fit of melancholy cured by scotch and irish airs played on the piano, of his violent opinions on sherry and "uncle tom's cabin," of his protesting against some sign of gentility by using a filthy rag as a pocket handkerchief, and that in a conspicuous manner, of his being vain and not proud, of his telling the children stories, of one child crying out at sight of him: "that _is_ a man!" he made his mark by unusual ways and by intellectual superiority to his rustic cousins. he rode about with one of his cousin's grandchildren. he walked hither and thither alone, doing as much as twenty-five miles a day with the help of "look out, look out, svend vonved," which he sang in the last dark stretches of road. mr. walling was "told that he roamed the caradons in all weathers without a hat, in search of sport and specimens, antiquities and dialects," but i should think the "specimens" were for the table. he talked to the men by the wayside or dived into the slums of liskeard for disreputable characters. he visited remarkable and famous places, and was delighted with "druidic" remains and tales of fairies. thus borrow made "fifty quarto pages" of notes, says knapp, about people, places, dialect, and folk lore. some of the notes are mere shorthand; some are rapid gossipy jottings; and they include; a verse translation of a cornish tale. a book on cornwall, to have grown out of these notes, was advertised; but it was never written. perhaps he found it hard to vivify or integrate his notes. in any case there could hardly have been any backbone to the book, and it would have been tourist's work, however good. he was not a man who wrote about everything; the impulse was lacking and he went on with the furious appendix to "the romany rye." in he paid a much longer visit to wales. he took his wife and daughter as far as llangollen, which he used as a centre during august. then he had ten days walking through corwen, cerrig-y-drudion, capel curig, bangor, anglesey, snowdon, beth gelert, festiniog, and bala. after three weeks more at llangollen, he had his boots soled and his umbrella mended, bought a leather satchel with a lock and key, and put in it a white linen shirt, a pair of worsted stockings, a razor, and a prayer book, and with twenty pounds in his pocket and his umbrella grasped in the middle, set out on a tour of three weeks. he travelled through the whole length of wales, by llangarmon, sycharth, bala, machynlleth, devil's bridge, plinlimmon, pont rhyd fendigaid, strata florida, tregaron, lampeter, pumpsaint, llandovery, llangadog, gwynfe, gutter fawr (brynamman), swansea, neath, merthyr, caerphilly, newport, and chepstow. he had loved the welsh bards and wales from his boyhood up, and these three months kept him occupied and happy. when at llangollen he walked during the day, and in the evening showed his wife and stepdaughter a view, if he had found one. his wife reported to his mother that she had reason to praise god for his condition. borrow was happy at seeing the places mentioned by the bards and the houses where some of them were born. "oh, the wild hills of wales," he exclaimed, "the land of old renown and of wonder, the land of arthur and merlin!" these were the very tones of his spanish enthusiasm nearly twenty years ago. he travelled probably without maps, and with no general knowledge of the country or of what had been written of it, so that he did not know how to spell manorbier or recognise it as the birthplace of gerald of wales. he remembered his youth, when he translated the bards, with complacent melancholy. he sunned himself in the admiration of his inferiors, talking at great length on subjects with which he was acquainted and repeating his own execrable verse translations. "nice man"--"civil man"--"clever man . . . has been everywhere," the people said. in the south, too, he had the supreme good fortune to meet captain bosvile for the first time for thirty years, and not being recognised, said, "i am the chap what certain folks calls the romany rye." bejiggered if the captain had not been thinking it was he, and goes on to ask after that "fine young woman and a vartuous" that he used to keep company with, and borrow in his turn asked after jasper--"lord!" was the answer, "you can't think what grand folks he and his wife have become of late years, and all along of a trumpery lil which somebody has written about them." he also met an italian whose friends he had last seen at norwich, one whom he had found at corunna. it is no wonder that it seemed to him he had always had "the health of an elephant," and could walk thirty-four miles a day, and the last mile in ten minutes. he took his chance for a night's lodging, content to have someone else's bed, but going to the best inn where he had a choice, as at haverfordwest. he was very much moved by the adventure. "i have a wonderful deal to say if i once begin; i have been everywhere," he said to the old man at gutter fawr. he gave the shepherd advice about his sheep. "i am in the habit," he said to the landlord at pont erwyd, "of talking about everything, being versed in all matters, do you see, or affecting to be so, which comes much to the same thing." even in the company of his stepdaughter--as they were not in hyde park--he sang in welsh at the top of his voice. the miller's hospitality in mona brought tears to his eyes; so did his own verse translation of the "ode to sycharth," because it made him think "how much more happy, innocent and holy i was in the days of my boyhood when i translated iolo's ode than i am at the present time." he kissed the silver cup at llanddewi brefi and the tombstone of huw morus at llan silin. when the chair of huw morus was wiped and he was about to sit down in it, he uncovered and said in his best welsh: "'shade of huw morus, supposing your shade haunts the place which you loved so well when alive--a saxon, one of the seed of the coiling serpent, has come to this place to pay that respect to true genius, the dawn duw, which he is ever ready to pay. he read the songs of the nightingale of ceiriog in the most distant part of lloegr, when he was a brown-haired boy, and now that he is a grey-haired man he is come to say in this place that they frequently made his eyes overflow with tears of rapture.' "i then sat down in the chair, and commenced repeating verses of huw morus. all which i did in the presence of the stout old lady, the short, buxom, and bare-armed damsel, and of john jones, the calvinistic weaver of llangollen, all of whom listened patiently and approvingly though the rain was pouring down upon them, and the branches of the trees and the tops of the tall nettles, agitated by the gusts from the mountain hollows, were beating in their faces, for enthusiasm is never scoffed at by the noble, simple-minded, genuine welsh, whatever treatment it may receive from the coarse-hearted, sensual, selfish saxon." unless we count the inn at cemmaes, where he took vengeance on the suspicious people by using his note-book in an obvious manner, "now skewing at an object, now leering at an individual," he was only once thoroughly put out, and that was at beth gelert by a scotchman: which suggests a great deal of amiability, on one side, considering that borrow's welsh was book-welsh, execrably pronounced. he filled four books with notes, says knapp, who has printed from them some parts which borrow did not use, including the orange words of "croppies lie down," and borrow's translation of "the best ghost story in the world," by lope de vega. the book founded on these welsh notes was advertised in , but not published until . in the september after his welsh holiday, , borrow took his wife and daughter to the isle of man, deposited them at douglas, and travelled over the island for seven weeks, with intervals at douglas. he took notes that make ninety-six quarto pages in knapp's copy. he was to have founded a book on them, entitled, "wanderings in quest of manx literature." knapp quotes an introduction which was written. this and the notes show him collecting in manuscript or _viva voce_ the _carvals_ or carols then in circulation among the manx; and he had the good fortune to receive two volumes of them as gifts. some he translated during his visit. he went about questioning people concerning the carvals and a manx poet, named george killey. he read a manx prayer-book to the poet's daughter at kirk onchan, and asked her a score of questions. he convinced one woman that he was "of the old manx." finding a manxman who spoke french and thought it the better language, he made the statement that "manx or something like it was spoken in france more than a thousand years before french." he copied runic inscriptions, and took down several fairy tales and a manx version of the story of "finn mccoyle" and the scotch giant. he went to visit a descendant of the ballad hero, mollie charane. when he wished to know the size of some old skeletons he inquired if the bones were as large as those of modern ones. as he met people to compliment him on his manx, so he did on his walking. knapp speaks of a "terrible journey" over the mountain from ramsay to braddan and douglas in october, but does not make any quotation relating to it. in his opinion the notes "seldom present any matter of general interest save to the islanders of man and the student of runic inscriptions." enough, however, is quoted to show that borrow was delighted with the country and the people, finding plenty to satisfy his curiosity in languages and customs. but he was irritable, and committed to paper some sarcastic remarks about sir john bowring and lord raglan, "the secret friend" of russia; while the advancement of an enemy and the death of a cousin caused him to reflect: "william borrow, the wonderful inventor, dead, and leicester curzon . . . a colonel. pretty justice!" in , in the pages of "once a week," he published two of his manx translations, the ballads--"brown william" and "mollie charane." in august and september, , borrow was walking again in wales, covering four hundred miles, as he told john murray, and once, at least, between builth and mortimer's cross, making twenty-eight miles in a day. his route was through laugharne, saundersfoot, tenby, pembroke, milford and milford haven, stainton, johnston, haverfordwest, st. davids, fishguard, newport, cardigan, llechryd, cilgerran, cenarth, newcastle emlyn, lampeter, llanddewi brefi, builth, presteign, mortimer's cross, and so to shrewsbury, and to uppington, where goronwy owen was curate in the middle of the eighteenth century. knapp transcribed part of borrow's journal for messrs. t. c. cantrill and j. pringle, remarking that the rubbed pencil writing took him eight days to decipher. with the annotations of messrs. cantrill and pringle it was printed in "y cymmrodor," { a} the journal of the honourable society of cymmrodorion. i will quote one day's entries, with the annotations, which are the fruit of the most patient devotion: "haverfordwest--little river--bridge; { b} steep ascent { c}--sounds of music--young fellows playing--steep descent--strange town--castle inn. h.w. in welsh hool-fordd. "[august] th, thursday.--burning day as usual. breakfasted on tea, eggs, and soup. went up to the castle. st. mary's church--river--bridge--toll--the two bridge keepers--river dun cledi { d}--runs into milford haven--exceedingly deep in some parts--would swallow up the largest ship ever built { e}--people in general dislike and despise the welsh. "started for st. david's. course s.w. { f}after walking about m. crossed pelkham bridge { a}--it separates st. martin's from camrwyn { b} parish, as a woman told me who was carrying a pipkin in which were some potatoes in water but not boiled. in her other hand she had a dried herring. she said she had lived in the parish all her life and could speak no welsh, but that there were some people within it who could speak it. rested against a shady bank, { c} very thirsty and my hurt foot very sore. she told me that the mountains to the n. were called by various names. one the [clo---?] mountain. { d} "the old inn { e}--the blind woman. { f} arrival of the odd-looking man and the two women i had passed on the road. the collier [on] { g} the ass gives me the real history of bosvile. written in roche castle, a kind of oblong tower built on the rock--there is a rock within it, a huge crag standing towards the east in what was perhaps once a door. it turned out to be a chapel. { h} "the castle is call'd in welsh castel y garn, a translation of roche. the girl and water--b---? (nanny) dallas. { a} dialogue with the baptist { b} who was mending the roads. "splendid view of sea--isolated rocks to the south. sir las { c} headlands stretching s. descent to the shore. new gall bridge. { d} the collier's wife. jemmy remaunt { e} was the name of man on the ass. her own husband goes to work by the shore. the ascent round the hill. distant view of roche castle. the welshers, the little village { f}--all looking down on the valley appropriately called y cwm. dialogue with tall man merddyn? { g}--the dim o clywed." not much of this second tour can be shown to have been used in "wild wales," where he alludes to it in the ninety-third chapter, saying that he "long subsequently" found some of the wildest solitudes and most romantic scenery among the mountains about tregaron; but the collier may have given him the suggestion for the encounter with bosvile in the ninety-eighth chapter. the spelling points to borrow's ignorance of the relation of pronunciation and orthography. in borrow's mother died at oulton and was buried in oulton churchyard. during october and november in that year, partly to take his mind from his bereavement, he was walking in the scottish highlands and islands. his note-book contains "nothing of general interest," says knapp, except an imperfect outline of the journey, showing that he was at oban, tobermory, the mull of cantire, glasgow, perth, aberdeen, inverness, dingwall, tain, dornoch, helmsdale, wick, john o'groats, thurso, stromness, kirkwall, and lerwick. in , after taking a house at , hereford square, west brompton, he and his wife and stepdaughter went to dublin, and himself walked to connemara and the giant's causeway. his wife thought this journey "full of adventure and interest," but he left no record of it. they were again in ireland in , miss clarke having lately married a dr. macoubrey, of belfast. borrow himself crossed over to stranraer and had a month's walking in scotland, to glen luce, castle douglas, dumfries, ecclefechan, carlisle, gilnochie, hawick, jedburgh, yetholm, kelso, melrose, coldstream, berwick, and edinburgh. he talked to the people, admired the scenery, bathed, and enjoyed his meals. he left the briefest of journals, but afterwards, in "romano lavo-lil," published an account of the "gypsy toon" of kirk yetholm and how he was introduced to the gypsy queen. he dropped his umbrella and flung his arms three times up into the air and asked her in romany what her name was, and if she was a mumper or a true gypsy. she asked him what was the meaning of this "gibberish," but he describes how gradually he made her declare herself, and how she examined him in gypsy and at last offered him a chair, and entered into "deep discourse" about gypsy matters. he talked as he did to such people, saying "whoy, i calls that a juggal," etc. he found fault with her romany, which was thin and mixed with gaelic and cant words. she told him that he reminded her of her grandfather, will faa, "being a tall, lusty man like himself, and having a skellying look with the left eye, just like him." he displayed his knowledge of the affairs of the tribe, both in her country and in england. she told him that she had never heard so much romany before. she promised to receive him next day, but was out when he called. he found her at st. george's fair, near roxburgh castle, and she pointed him out several other gypsies, but as she assured him they knew not a word of romany and would only be uncivil to him, he left them to "pay his respects at the tomb of walter scott, a man with whose principles he had no sympathy, but for whose genius he had always entertained the most intense admiration." in he took an autumn walk through sussex and hampshire while his wife was at bognor. in the next year his wife died, after being afflicted for some time by troubles connected with her property, by dropsy, valvular disease of the heart, and "hysteria." borrow was melancholy and irritable, but apparently did not go for another walk in scotland as was suggested for a cure; nor ever again did he get far afield on foot. chapter xxix--"wild wales" in , between borrow's two visits to ireland, his "wild wales" was published. it had been heralded by an advertisement in , by the publication of the "sleeping bard" in , and by an article on "the welsh and their literature" in the "quarterly" for january, . this article quotes "an unpublished work called 'wild wales'" and "mr. borrow's unpublished work, 'celtic bards, chiefs and kings.'" it opened with a vivid story of the coming of hu gadarn and his cymry to britain: "hu and his people took possession of the best parts of the island, either driving the few gaels to other districts or admitting them to their confederacy. as the country was in a very wild state, much overgrown with forests in which bears and wolves wandered, and abounding with deep stagnant pools, which were the haunts of the avanc or crocodile, hu forthwith set about clearing it of some of its horrors, and making it more fit to be the abiding place of civilised beings. he made his people cut down woods and forests, and destroy, as far as was possible, wild beasts and crocodiles. he himself went to a gloomy pool, the haunt of the king of the efync, baited a huge hook attached to a cable, flung it into the pool, and when the monster had gorged the snare drew him out by means of certain gigantic oxen, which he had tamed to the plough, and burnt his horrid, wet, scaly carcass on a fire. he then caused enclosures to be made, fields to be ploughed and sown, pleasant wooden houses to be built, bees to be sheltered and encouraged, and schools to be erected where song and music were taught. o a truly great man was hu gadarn! though a warrior, he preferred the sickle and pruning hook to the sword, and the sound of the song and lute to the hoarse blast of the buffalo's horn: "the mighty hu with mead would pay the bard for his melodious lay; the emperor of land and sea and of all living things was he." this probably represents borrow's view of early history, simple, heroical and clear, as it would have been had he been in command of it. the article professed to be a review of borrow's "sleeping bard," and was in fact by borrow himself. he had achieved the supreme honour of reviewing his own work, and, as it fell out, he persuaded the public to buy every copy. very few were found to buy "wild wales," notwithstanding. the first edition of a thousand copies lasted three years; the second, of three thousand, lasted twenty-three years. borrow was ridiculed for informing his readers that he paid his bill at a welsh inn, without mentioning the amount. he was praised for having written "the first clever book . . . in which an honest attempt is made to do justice to the welsh literature," for knowing far more than most educated welshmen about that literature, and for describing his travels and encounters "with much of the freshness, humour and geniality of his earlier days," for writing in fact "the best book about wales ever published." certainly no later book which could be compared with it has been as good, or nearly as good. as for its predecessors, the "itinerary" and the "description" of gerald of wales, even setting aside the charm of antiquity, make a book that is equal to "wild wales" for originality, vivacity and truth. of the antiquarian and picturesque travellers in the late eighteenth century and early nineteenth none wrote anything that is valuable except for some facts and some evidence of taste. borrow himself probably knew few or none of them, though he mentions gerald. there is no evidence that he knew the great nineteenth-century collections of welsh manuscripts and translations. he says nothing of the "mabinogion." he had apparently never heard of the pedestrian iolo morganwg. he perhaps never saw stephens' "literature of the kymry." his knowledge was picked up anyhow and anywhere from welsh texts and lhuyd's "archaeologia," without system and with very little friendly discussion or comparison. wales, therefore, was to him as wonderful as spain, and equally uncharted. what he saw did not spoil the visionary image, and his enthusiasm coupled with curiosity gives the book of his travels just the continuous impulse which he never found for his cornish, manx, irish or scottish notes. he was able to fill the book with sympathetic observation and genial self-revelation. the book is of course a tourist's book. borrow went through the country as a gentleman, running no risks, and having scarcely an object except to see what was to be seen and to please himself. he got, as he probably counted on getting, the consideration due to a gentleman who can pay his way and meets only the humbler sort of people, publicans, farmers, drovers, labourers, sextons, parish clerks, and men upon the road. he seldom stayed more than a night or an hour or two anywhere. his pictures, therefore, are the impressions of the moment, wrought up at leisure. his few weeks in wales made a book of the same size as an equal number of years in spain. sometimes he writes like a detached observer working from notes, and the result has little value except in so far as it is a pure record of what was to be seen at such and such a place in the year . there are many short passages apparently straight from his notes, dead and useless. the description of llangollen fair, on august , is of this kind, but superior, and i shall quote it entire: "the day was dull with occasional showers. i went to see the fair about noon. it was held in and near a little square in the south-east quarter of the town, of which square the police-station is the principal feature on the side of the west, and an inn, bearing the sign of the grapes, on the east. the fair was a little bustling fair, attended by plenty of people from the country, and from the english border, and by some who appeared to come from a greater distance than the border. a dense row of carts extended from the police-station, half across the space. these carts were filled with pigs, and had stout cord nettings drawn over them, to prevent the animals escaping. by the sides of these carts the principal business of the fair appeared to be going on--there stood the owners, male and female, higgling with llangollen men and women, who came to buy. the pigs were all small, and the price given seemed to vary from eighteen to twenty-five shillings. those who bought pigs generally carried them away in their arms; and then there was no little diversion; dire was the screaming of the porkers, yet the purchaser invariably appeared to know how to manage his bargain, keeping the left arm round the body of the swine and with the right hand fast gripping the ear--some few were led away by strings. there were some welsh cattle, small of course, and the purchasers of these seemed to be englishmen, tall burly fellows in general, far exceeding the welsh in height and size. "much business in the cattle-line did not seem, however, to be going on. now and then a big fellow made an offer, and held out his hand for a little pictish grazier to give it a slap--a cattle bargain being concluded by a slap of the hand--but the welshman generally turned away, with a half-resentful exclamation. there were a few horses and ponies in a street leading into the fair from the south. "i saw none sold, however. a tall athletic figure was striding amongst them, evidently a jockey and a stranger, looking at them and occasionally asking a slight question of one or another of their proprietors, but he did not buy. he might in age be about eight-and-twenty, and about six feet and three-quarters of an inch in height; in build he was perfection itself--a better-built man i never saw. he wore a cap and a brown jockey coat, trowsers, leggings, and highlows, and sported a single spur. he had whiskers--all jockeys should have whiskers--but he had what i did not like, and what no genuine jockey should have, a moustache, which looks coxcombical and frenchified--but most things have terribly changed since i was young. three or four hardy-looking fellows, policemen, were gliding about in their blue coats and leather hats, holding their thin walking-sticks behind them; conspicuous amongst whom was the leader, a tall lathy north briton with a keen eye and hard features. now if i add there was much gabbling of welsh round about, and here and there some slight sawing of english--that in the street leading from the north there were some stalls of gingerbread and a table at which a queer-looking being with a red greek-looking cap on his head, sold rhubarb, herbs, and phials containing the lord knows what, and who spoke a low vulgar english dialect,--i repeat, if i add this, i think i have said all that is necessary about llangollen fair." but this is a somewhat exceptional passage, and the same detachment is rarely found except in his descriptions of scenery, which are short and serve well enough to remind the reader of the great hills, the rapid waters, the rocks, and the furnaces, chimneys and pits. borrow certainly does remind us of these things. in the first place he does so by a hundred minute and scattered suggestions of the romantic and sublime, and so general that only a pedant will object to the nightingales which he heard singing in august near bethesda. he gives us black mountains, gloomy shadows, cascades falling into lakes, "singular-looking" rocks, and mountain villages like one in castile or la mancha but for the trees, mountains that made him exclaim: "i have had heaven opened to me," moors of a "wretched russet colour," "black gloomy narrow glens." he can also be precise and connoisseur-like, as when he describes the cataract at llan rhaiadr: "what shall i liken it to? i scarcely know, unless to an immense skein of silk agitated and disturbed by tempestuous blasts, or to the long tail of a grey courser at furious speed. through the profusion of long silvery threads or hairs, or what looked such, i could here and there see the black sides of the crag down which the rhyadr precipitated itself with something between a boom and a roar." he is still more a connoisseur when he continues: "i never saw water falling so gracefully, so much like thin beautiful threads as here. yet even this cataract has its blemish. what beautiful object has not something which more or less mars its loveliness? there is an ugly black bridge or semicircle of rock, about two feet in diameter and about twenty feet high, which rises some little way below it, and under which the water, after reaching the bottom, passes, which intercepts the sight, and prevents it from taking in the whole fall at once. this unsightly object has stood where it now stands since the day of creation, and will probably remain there to the day of judgment. it would be a desecration of nature to remove it by art, but no one could regret if nature in one of her floods were to sweep it away." but borrow's temperamental method--where he undertakes to do more than sketch his environment in the blurred large method corresponding to ordinary passing impressions--is the rhetorical sublime of this mountain lake between festiniog and bala: "i sped towards it through gorse and heather, occasionally leaping a deep drain. at last i reached it. it was a small lake. wearied and panting, i flung myself on its bank, and gazed upon it. "there lay the lake in the low bottom, surrounded by the heathery hillocks; there it lay quite still, the hot sun reflected upon its surface, which shone like a polished blue shield. near the shore it was shallow, at least near that shore upon which i lay. but farther on, my eye, practised in deciding upon the depths of waters, saw reason to suppose that its depth was very great. as i gazed upon it my mind indulged in strange musings. i thought of the afanc, a creature which some have supposed to be the harmless and industrious beaver, others the frightful and destructive crocodile. i wondered whether the afanc was the crocodile or the beaver, and speedily had no doubt that the name was originally applied to the crocodile. "'o, who can doubt,' thought i, 'that the word was originally intended for something monstrous and horrible? is there not something horrible in the look and sound of the word afanc, something connected with the opening and shutting of immense jaws, and the swallowing of writhing prey? is not the word a fitting brother of the arabic timsah, denoting the dread horny lizard of the waters? moreover, have we not the voice of tradition that the afanc was something monstrous? does it not say that hu the mighty, the inventor of husbandry, who brought the cumry from the summer-country, drew the old afanc out of the lake of lakes with his four gigantic oxen? would he have had recourse to them to draw out the little harmless beaver? o, surely not. yet have i no doubt that, when the crocodile had disappeared from the lands where the cumric language was spoken, the name afanc was applied to the beaver, probably his successor in the pool; the beaver now called in cumric llostlydan, or the broad- tailed, for tradition's voice is strong that the beaver has at one time been called the afanc.' then i wondered whether the pool before me had been the haunt of the afanc, considered both as crocodile and beaver. i saw no reason to suppose that it had not. 'if crocodiles,' thought i, 'ever existed in britain, and who shall say they have not? seeing that their remains have been discovered, why should they not have haunted this pool? if beavers ever existed in britain, and do not tradition and giraldus say that they have? why should they not have existed in this pool? "'at a time almost inconceivably remote, when the hills around were covered with woods, through which the elk and the bison and the wild cow strolled, when men were rare throughout the lands, and unlike in most things to the present race--at such a period--and such a period there has been--i can easily conceive that the afanc-crocodile haunted this pool, and that when the elk or bison or wild cow came to drink of its waters, the grim beast would occasionally rush forth, and seizing his bellowing victim, would return with it to the deeps before me to luxuriate at his ease upon its flesh. and at time less remote, when the crocodile was no more, and though the woods still covered the hills, and wild cattle strolled about, men were more numerous than before, and less unlike the present race, i can easily conceive this lake to have been the haunt of the afanc-beaver, that he here built cunningly his house of trees and clay, and that to this lake the native would come with his net and his spear to hunt the animal for his precious fur. probably if the depths of that pool were searched, relics of the crocodile and the beaver might be found, along with other strange things connected with the periods in which they respectively lived. happy were i if for a brief space i could become a cingalese, that i might swim out far into that pool, dive down into its deepest part, and endeavour to discover any strange things which beneath its surface may lie.' much in this guise rolled my thoughts as i lay stretched on the margin of the lake." in another place he tells a poor man that he believes in the sea-serpent, and has a story of one seen in the very neighbourhood where he meets the man. immediately after the description of the lake there is a proof--one of many--that he was writing straight from notes. speaking of a rivulet, he says: "it was crossed by two bridges, one immensely old and terribly delapidated, the other old enough, but in better repair--_went and drank under the oldest bridge of the two_." the book is large and strong enough to stand many such infinitesimal blemishes. alongside of the sublime i will put what borrow says he liked better. he is standing on a bridge over the ceiriog, just after visiting the house of huw morus at pont y meibion: "about a hundred yards distant was a small watermill, built over the rivulet, the wheel going slowly, slowly round; large quantities of pigs, the generality of them brindled, were either browsing on the banks, or lying close to the sides, half immersed in the water; one immense white hog, the monarch seemingly of the herd, was standing in the middle of the current. such was the scene which i saw from the bridge, a scene of quiet rural life well suited to the brushes of two or three of the old dutch painters, or to those of men scarcely inferior to them in their own style--gainsborough, moreland, and crome. my mind for the last half-hour had been in a highly-excited state; i had been repeating verses of old huw morus, brought to my recollection by the sight of his dwelling-place; they were ranting roaring verses, against the roundheads. i admired the vigour, but disliked the principles which they displayed; and admiration on the one hand, and disapproval on the other, bred a commotion in my mind like that raised on the sea when tide runs one way and wind blows another. the quiet scene from the bridge, however, produced a sedative effect on my mind, and when i resumed my journey i had forgotten huw, his verses, and all about roundheads and cavaliers." but it must be said that if the book is on the whole a cheerful one, its cheerfulness not only receives a foil from the rhetorical sublime, but is a little misted by a melancholy note here and there. thus he sees "a melancholy ship" out on the sea near holyhead. he qualifies russet twice as "wretched" in describing a moor. he speaks of "strange-looking" hills near pont erwyd, and again near the devil's bridge. his moods were easily changed. he speaks of "wretched russet hills," with no birds singing, but only "the lowing of a wretched bullock," and then of beautiful hills that filled his veins with fresh life so that he walked on merrily. as for his people, it cannot be asserted that they are always alive though they are often very welsh. they are sketched, with dialogue and description, after the manner of "the bible in spain," though being nearer home they had to be more modest in their peculiarities. he establishes welsh enthusiasm, hospitality and suspiciousness, in a very friendly manner. the poet-innkeeper is an excellent sketch of a mild but by no means spiritless type. he is accompanied by a man with a bulging shoe who drinks ale and continually ejaculates: "the greatest poet in the world"; for example, when borrow asks: "then i have the honour to be seated with a bard of anglesey?" "tut, tut," says the bard. borrow agrees with him that envy--which has kept him from the bardic chair--will not always prevail: "'sir,' said the man in grey, 'i am delighted to hear you. give me your hand, your honourable hand. sir, you have now felt the hand-grasp of a welshman, to say nothing of an anglesey bard, and i have felt that of a briton, perhaps a bard, a brother, sir? o, when i first saw your face out there in the dyffryn, i at once recognised in it that of a kindred spirit, and i felt compelled to ask you to drink. drink, sir! but how is this? the jug is empty--how is this?--o, i see--my friend, sir, though an excellent individual, is indiscreet, sir--very indiscreet. landlord, bring this moment another jug of ale.' "'the greatest prydydd,' stuttered he of the bulged shoe--'the greatest prydydd--oh--' "'tut, tut,' said the man in grey. "'i speak the truth and care for no one,' said he of the tattered hat. 'i say the greatest prydydd. if any one wishes to gainsay me let him show his face, and myn diawl--' the landlord brought the ale, placed it on the table, and then stood as if waiting for something. "'i suppose you are waiting to be paid,' said i; 'what is your demand?' "'sixpence for this jug, and sixpence for the other,' said the landlord. "i took out a shilling and said: 'it is but right that i should pay half of the reckoning, and as the whole affair is merely a shilling matter i should feel obliged in being permitted to pay the whole, so, landlord, take the shilling and remember you are paid.' i then delivered the shilling to the landlord, but had no sooner done so than the man in grey, starting up in violent agitation, wrested the money from the other, and flung it down on the table before me saying:-- "'no, no, that will never do. i invited you in here to drink, and now you would pay for the liquor which i ordered. you english are free with your money, but you are sometimes free with it at the expense of people's feelings. i am a welshman, and i know englishmen consider all welshmen hogs. but we are not hogs, mind you! for we have little feelings which hogs have not. moreover, i would have you know that we have money, though perhaps not so much as the saxon.' then putting his hand into his pocket he pulled out a shilling, and giving it to the landlord, said in welsh: 'now thou art paid, and mayst go thy ways till thou art again called for. i do not know why thou didst stay after thou hadst put down the ale. thou didst know enough of me to know that thou didst run no risk of not being paid.' "'but,' said i, after the landlord had departed, 'i must insist on being [? _paying_] my share. did you not hear me say that i would give a quart of ale to see a poet?' "'a poet's face,' said the man in grey, 'should be common to all, even like that of the sun. he is no true poet, who would keep his face from the world.' "'but,' said i, 'the sun frequently hides his head from the world, behind a cloud.' "'not so,' said the man in grey. 'the sun does not hide his face, it is the cloud that hides it. the sun is always glad enough to be seen, and so is the poet. if both are occasionally hid, trust me it is no fault of theirs. bear that in mind; and now pray take up your money.' "'that man is a gentleman,' thought i to myself, 'whether poet or not; but i really believe him to be a poet; were he not he could hardly talk in the manner i have just heard him.' "the man in grey now filled my glass, his own and that of his companion. the latter emptied his in a minute, not forgetting first to say 'the best prydydd in all the world!' the man in grey was also not slow to empty his own. the jug now passed rapidly between my two friends, for the poet seemed determined to have his full share of the beverage. i allowed the ale in my glass to remain untasted, and began to talk about the bards, and to quote from their works. i soon found that the man in grey knew quite as much of the old bards and their works as myself. in one instance he convicted me of a mistake. "i had quoted those remarkable lines in which an old bard, doubtless seeing the menai bridge by means of second sight, says: 'i will pass to the land of mona notwithstanding the waters of menai, without waiting for the ebb'--and was feeling not a little proud of my erudition when the man in grey, after looking at me for a moment fixedly, asked me the name of the bard who composed them--'sion tudor,' i replied. "'there you are wrong,' said the man in grey; 'his name was not sion tudor, but robert vychan, in english, little bob. sion tudor wrote an englyn on the skerries whirlpool in the menai; but it was little bob who wrote the stanza in which the future bridge over the menai is hinted at.' "'you are right,' said i, 'you are right. well, i am glad that all song and learning are not dead in ynis fon.' "'dead,' said the man in grey, whose features began to be rather flushed, 'they are neither dead, nor ever will be. there are plenty of poets in anglesey. . . .'" the whole sketch is in borrow's liberal unqualified style, but keeping on the right side of caricature. the combination of modesty, touchiness and pride, without humour, is typical and happily caught. the chief fault of his welsh portraits, in fact, is his almost invariable, and almost always unnecessary, exhibition of his own superiority. he is nearly always the big clever gentleman catechizing certain quaint little rustic foreigners. he met one old man with a crabstick who told him his welsh was almost as bad as his english, and a drover who had the advantage of him in decided opinions and a sense of superiority, and put him down as a pig-jobber; but these are exceptions. he is not unkind, but on the other hand he forgets that as a rule his size, his purse, and his remarkable appearance and qualities put his casual hosts very much at a disadvantage, and he is thus led to exaggerate what suspiciousness he observed. his success is all the more wonderful when his position and his almost total lack of condescension and concession are considered, but considered they must be. when he met a welsh clergyman who could talk about the welsh language, huw morus and ale, he said nothing about him except that he was "a capital specimen of the welsh country clergyman. his name was walter jones." too often he merely got answers to his questions, which break up his pages in an agreeable manner, but do little more. in such conversations we should fare ill indeed if one of the parties were not borrow, and even as it is, he can be tedious beyond the limits necessary for truth. i will give an example: "after a little time i entered into conversation with my guide. he had not a word of english. 'are you married?' said i. "'in truth i am, sir.' "'what family have you?' "'i have a daughter.' "'where do you live?' "'at the house of the rhyadr.' "'i suppose you live there as servant?' "'no, sir, i live there as master.' "'is the good woman i saw there your wife?' "'in truth, sir, she is.' "'and the young girl i saw your daughter?' "'yes, sir, she is my daughter.' "'and how came the good woman not to tell me you were her husband?' "'i suppose, sir, you did not ask who i was, and she thought you did not care to know.' . . ." to multiply instances might cease to be amusing. it may have been borrow's right way of getting what he wanted, though it sounds like a charity organization inquisitor. as to the effectiveness of setting down every step of the process instead of the result, there can hardly be two opinions, unless the reader prefers an impression of the wandering inquisitive gentleman to one of the people questioned. probably these barren dialogues may be set down to indolence or to the too facile adoption of a trick. they are too casual and slight to be exact, and on the other hand they are too literal to give a direct impression. luckily he diversified such conversation with stories of poets and robbers, gleaned from his books or from wayside company. the best of this company was naturally not the humble homekeeping publican or cottager, but the man or woman of the roads, gypsy or irish. the vagabond irish, for example, give him early in the book an effective contrast to the more quiet welsh; his guide tells how they gave him a terrible fright: "i had been across the berwyn to carry home a piece of weaving work to a person who employs me. it was night as i returned, and when i was about half-way down the hill, at a place which is called allt paddy, because the gwyddelod are in the habit of taking up their quarters there, i came upon a gang of them, who had come there and camped and lighted their fire, whilst i was on the other side of the hill. there were nearly twenty of them, men and women, and amongst the rest was a man standing naked in a tub of water with two women stroking him down with clouts. he was a large fierce-looking fellow, and his body, on which the flame of the fire glittered, was nearly covered with red hair. i never saw such a sight. as i passed they glared at me and talked violently in their paddy gwyddel, but did not offer to molest me. i hastened down the hill, and right glad i was when i found myself safe and sound at my house in llangollen, with my money in my pocket, for i had several shillings there, which the man across the hill had paid me for the work which i had done." the best man in the book is the irish fiddler, with a shock of red hair, a hat that had lost part of its crown and all its rim, and a game leg. this irishman in the early part of the book and the irishwoman at the end are characters that borrow could put his own blood into. he has done so in a manner equal to anything in the same kind in his earlier books. i shall quote the whole interview with the man. it is an admirable piece of imagination. if any man thinks it anything else, let him spend ten years in taking down conversations in trains and taverns and ten years in writing them up, and should he have anything as good as this to show, he has a most rare talent: "'good morning to you,' said i. "'a good marning to your hanner, a merry afternoon, and a roaring joyous evening--that is the worst luck i wish to ye.' "'are you a native of these parts?' said i. "'not exactly, your hanner--i am a native of the city of dublin, or, what's all the same thing, of the village of donnybrook which is close by it.' "'a celebrated place,' said i. "'your hanner may say that; all the world has heard of donnybrook, owing to the humours of its fair. many is the merry tune i have played to the boys at that fair.' "'you are a professor of music, i suppose?' "'and not a very bad one as your hanner will say if you will allow me to play you a tune.' "'can you play "croppies lie down"?' "'i cannot, your hanner; my fingers never learnt to play such a blackguard tune; but if ye wish to hear "croppies get up" i can oblige ye.' "'you are a roman catholic, i suppose?' "'i am not, your hanner--i am a catholic to the backbone, just like my father before me. come, your hanner, shall i play ye "croppies get up"?' "'no,' said i; 'it's a tune that doesn't please my ears. if, however, you choose to play "croppies lie down," i'll give you a shilling.' "'your hanner will give me a shilling?' "'yes,' said i, 'if you play "croppies lie down": but you know you cannot play it, your fingers never learned the tune.' "'they never did, your hanner; but they have heard it played of ould by the blackguard orange fiddlers of dublin on the first of july, when the protestant boys used to walk round willie's statue on college green--so if your hanner gives me the shilling they may perhaps bring out something like it.' "'very good,' said i; 'begin!' "'but, your hanner, what shall we do for the words? though my fingers may remember the tune, my tongue does not remember the words--that is unless . . .' "'i give another shilling,' said i; 'but never mind you the words; i know the words, and will repeat them.' "'and your hanner will give me a shilling?' "'if you play the tune,' said i. "'hanner bright, your hanner?' "'honour bright,' said i. "thereupon the fiddler, taking his bow and shouldering his fiddle, struck up in first-rate style the glorious tune, which i had so often heard with rapture in the days of my boyhood in the barrack yard of clonmel; whilst i walking by his side as he stumped along, caused the welkin to resound with the words, which were the delight of the young gentlemen of the protestant academy of that beautiful old town. "'i never heard those words before,' said the fiddler, after i had finished the first stanza. "'get on with you,' said i. "'regular orange words!' said the fiddler, on my finishing the second stanza. "'do you choose to get on?' said i. "'more blackguard orange words i never heard!' cried the fiddler, on my coming to the conclusion of the third stanza. 'divil a bit farther will i play; at any rate till i get the shilling.' "'here it is for you,' said i; 'the song is ended and of course the tune.' "'thank your hanner,' said the fiddler, taking the money, 'your hanner has kept your word with me, which is more than i thought your hanner would. and now, your hanner, let me ask you why did your hanner wish for that tune, which is not only a blackguard one, but quite out of date; and where did your hanner get the words?' "'i used to hear the tune in my boyish days,' said i, 'and wished to hear it again, for though you call it a blackguard tune, it is the sweetest and most noble air that ireland, the land of music, has ever produced. as for the words, never mind where i got them; they are violent enough, but not half so violent as the words of some of the songs made against the irish protestants by the priests.' "'your hanner is an orange man, i see. well, your hanner, the orange is now in the kennel, and the croppies have it all their own way.' "'and perhaps,' said i, 'before i die, the orange will be out of the kennel and the croppies in, even as they were in my young days.' "'who knows, your hanner? and who knows that i may not play the ould tune round willie's image in college green, even as i used some twenty-seven years ago?' "'o then you have been an orange fiddler?' "'i have, your hanner. and now as your hanner has behaved like a gentleman to me i will tell ye all my history. i was born in the city of dublin, that is in the village of donnybrook, as i tould your hanner before. it was to the trade of bricklaying i was bred, and bricklaying i followed till at last, getting my leg smashed, not by falling off the ladder, but by a row in the fair, i was obliged to give it up, for how could i run up the ladder with a patten on my foot, which they put on to make my broken leg as long as the other. well, your hanner; being obliged to give up my bricklaying, i took to fiddling, to which i had always a natural inclination, and played about the streets, and at fairs, and wakes, and weddings. at length some orange men getting acquainted with me, and liking my style of playing, invited me to their lodge, where they gave me to drink, and tould me that if i would change my religion and join them, and play their tunes, they would make it answer my purpose. well, your hanner, without much stickling i gave up my popery, joined the orange lodge, learned the orange tunes, and became a regular protestant boy, and truly the orange men kept their word, and made it answer my purpose. o the meat and drink i got, and the money i made by playing at the orange lodges and before the processions when the orange men paraded the streets with their orange colours. and o, what a day for me was the glorious first of july when with my whole body covered with orange ribbons i fiddled "croppies lie down"--"boyne water," and the "protestant boys" before the procession which walked round willie's figure on horseback in college green, the man and horse all ablaze with orange colours. but nothing lasts under the sun, as your hanner knows; orangeism began to go down; the government scowled at it, and at last passed a law preventing the protestant boys dressing up the figure on the first of july, and walking round it. that was the death-blow of the orange party, your hanner; they never recovered it, but began to despond and dwindle, and i with them, for there was scarcely any demand for orange tunes. then dan o'connell arose with his emancipation and repale cries, and then instead of orange processions and walkings, there were papist processions and mobs, which made me afraid to stir out, lest knowing me for an orange fiddler, they should break my head, as the boys broke my leg at donnybrook fair. at length some of the repalers and emancipators knowing that i was a first-rate hand at fiddling came to me, and tould me, that if i would give over playing "croppies lie down" and other orange tunes, and would play "croppies get up," and what not, and become a catholic and a repaler, and an emancipator, they would make a man of me--so as my orange trade was gone, and i was half-starved, i consinted, not however till they had introduced me to daniel o'connell, who called me a credit to my country, and the irish horpheus, and promised me a sovereign if i would consint to join the cause, as he called it. well, your hanner, i joined with the cause and became a papist, i mane a catholic once more, and went at the head of processions, covered all over with green ribbons, playing "croppies get up," "granny whale," and the like. but, your hanner; though i went the whole hog with the repalers and emancipators, they did not make their words good by making a man of me. scant and sparing were they in the mate and drink, and yet more sparing in the money, and daniel o'connell never gave me the sovereign which he promised me. no, your hanner, though i played "croppies get up," till my fingers ached, as i stumped before him and his mobs and processions, he never gave me the sovereign: unlike your hanner who gave me the shilling ye promised me for playing "croppies lie down," daniel o'connell never gave me the sovereign he promised me for playing "croppies get up." och, your hanner, i often wished the ould orange days were back again. however as i could do no better i continued going the whole hog with the emancipators and repalers and dan o'connell; i went the whole animal with them till they had got emancipation; and i went the whole animal with them till they nearly got repale--when all of a sudden they let the whole thing drop--dan and his party having frighted the government out of its seven senses, and gotten all they thought they could get, in money and places, which was all they wanted, let the whole hullabaloo drop, and of course myself, who formed part of it. i went to those who had persuaded me to give up my orange tunes, and to play papist ones, begging them to give me work; but they tould me very civilly that they had no farther occasion for my services. i went to daniel o'connell reminding him of the sovereign he had promised me, and offering if he gave it me to play "croppies get up" under the nose of the lord-lieutenant himself; but he tould me that he had not time to attend to me, and when i persisted, bade me go to the divil and shake myself. well, your hanner, seeing no prospect for myself in my own country, and having incurred some little debts, for which i feared to be arrested, i came over to england and wales, where with little content and satisfaction i have passed seven years.' "'well,' said i, 'thank you for your history--farewell.' "'stap, your hanner; does your hanner think that the orange will ever be out of the kennel, and that the orange boys will ever walk round the brass man and horse in college green as they did of ould?' "'who knows?' said i. 'but suppose all that were to happen, what would it signify to you?' "'why then divil in my patten if i would not go back to donnybrook and dublin, hoist the orange cockade, and become as good an orange boy as ever.' "'what,' said i, 'and give up popery for the second time?' "'i would, your hanner; and why not? for in spite of what i have heard father toban say, i am by no means certain that all protestants will be damned.' "'farewell,' said i. "'farewell, your hanner, and long life and prosperity to you! god bless your hanner and your orange face. ah, the orange boys are the boys for keeping faith. they never served me as dan o'connell and his dirty gang of repalers and emancipators did. farewell, your hanner, once more; and here's another scratch of the illigant tune your hanner is so fond of, to cheer up your hanner's ears upon your way.' "and long after i had left him i could hear him playing on his fiddle in first-rate style the beautiful tune of 'down, down, croppies lie down.'" chapter xxx--"wild wales" (_continued_) much more than in any of his other books borrow is the hero in "wild wales"--a strange black-coated gentleman with white hair striding over the hills and along the rivers, carrying an umbrella, asking innumerable questions and giving infinite information about history, literature, religion, politics, and minor matters, willing to talk to anyone, but determined not to put up at a trampers' hostelry. the irish at chester took him for a minister, the irish reapers in anglesey took him for a priest and got him to bless them in latin while they knelt. all wondered to hear the saxon speaking or reading in welsh. a man who could speak spanish addressed him in that language as a foreigner--"'i can't tell you how it was, sir,' said he, looking me very innocently in the face, 'but i was forced to speak spanish to you.'" at pentre dwr the man with the pigs heard his remarks on pigs and said: "i see you are in the trade and understand a thing or two." the man on the road south to tregaron told him that he looked and spoke like the earl of leicester. he reveals himself also without recourse to impartial men upon the road. the mere figure of the tall man inquiring for the birthplaces of poets and literally translating place names for their meaning, is very powerful in holding the attention. he does not conceal his opinions. some were already familiar to readers of borrow, his admiration for smollett and for scott as a writer, his hate of gentility, cavaliers, papists, france, sherry, and teetotalism. he had some bad ale in wales, and he had some allsopp, which he declared good enough for the summer, and at bala one of his best welshmen gave him the best of home-brewed, "rich and mellow, with scarcely any smack of the hop in it, and though so pale and delicate to the eye nearly as strong as brandy." the chester ale he spirted out of the window after the chester cheese. to his subjects of admiration he also adds robert southey, as "not the least of britain's four great latter poets, decidedly her best prose writer, and probably the purest and most noble character to which she has ever given birth"; but this was when he was thinking of madoc, the welsh discoverer of america. i should be sorry to have to name any of the other "four poets" except byron. another literary _dictum_ is that macpherson's "ossian" is genuine because a book which followed it and was undoubtedly genuine bore a strong resemblance to it. an opinion that shows as fully as any single one could borrow's vivid and vague inaccuracy and perversity is this of snowdon: "but it is from its connection with romance that snowdon derives its chief interest. who when he thinks of snowdon does not associate it with the heroes of romance, arthur and his knights? whose fictitious adventures, the splendid dreams of welsh and breton minstrels, many of the scenes of which are the valleys and passes of snowdon, are the origin of romance, before which what is classic has for more than half a century been waning, and is perhaps eventually destined to disappear. yes, to romance snowdon is indebted for its interest and consequently for its celebrity; but for romance snowdon would assuredly not be what it at present is, one of the very celebrated hills of the world, and to the poets of modern europe almost what parnassus was to those of old." who associates snowdon with arthur, and what arthurian stories have the valleys and passes of snowdon for their scenes? what "poets of modern europe" have sung of it? and yet borrow has probably often carried this point with his reader. borrow as a christian is very conspicuous in this book. he cannot speak of sir henry morgan without calling him "a scourge of god on the cruel spaniards of the new world. . . . on which account god prospered and favoured him, permitting him to attain the noble age of ninety." he was fond of discovering the hand of god, for example, in changing a nunnery--"a place devoted to gorgeous idolatry and obscene lust"--into a quiet old barn: "surely," he asks, "the hand of god is visible here?" and the respectful mower answers: "it is so, sir." in the same way, when he has told a man called dafydd tibbot, that he is a frenchman--"dearie me, sir, am i indeed?" says the man, very pleased--he supposes the man a descendant of a proud, cruel, violent norman, for the descendants of proud, cruel and violent men "are doomed by god to come to the dogs." he tells us that he comforted himself, after thinking that his wife and daughter and himself would before long be dead, by the reflection that "such is the will of heaven, and that heaven is good." he showed his respect for sunday by going to church and hesitating to go to plynlimmon--"it is really not good to travel on the sunday without going into a place of worship." he wished, as he passed gwynfe, which means paradise,--or _gwynfa_ does; but no matter,--that he had never read tom payne, who "thinks there's not such a place as paradise." he lectures a poet's mistress for not staying with her hunchbacked old husband and making him comfortable: he expresses satisfaction at the poet's late repentance. after praising dafydd as the welsh ovid and horace and martial, he says: "finally, he was something more; he was what not one of the great latin poets was, a christian; that is, in his latter days, when he began to feel the vanity of all human pursuits, when his nerves began to be unstrung, his hair to fall off, and his teeth to drop out, and he then composed sacred pieces entitling him to rank with--we were going to say caedmon--had we done so we should have done wrong; no uninspired poet ever handled sacred subjects like the grand saxon skald--but which entitle him to be called a great religious poet, inferior to none but the _protege_ of hilda." (here, by the way, he omits to correct the plural unity of the "quarterly reviewer.") but perhaps these remarks are not more than the glib commonplaces of a man who had found christianity convenient, but not exactly sufficient. in another place he says: "the wisest course evidently is to combine a portion of the philosophy of the tombstone with a portion of the philosophy of the publican and something more, to enjoy one's pint and pipe and other innocent pleasures, and to think every now and then of death and judgment--that is what i intend to do, and indeed is what i have done for the last thirty years." which is as much as to say that he was of "the religion of all sensible men": which is as much as to say that he did not greatly trouble about such matters. in the cognate matter of patriotism borrow is superficially more unsound in "wild wales." at birmingham railway station he "became a modern englishman, enthusiastically proud of modern england's science and energy"; at the sight of norman castles he felt no norman enthusiasm, but only hate for the norman name, which he associated with "the deflowering of helpless englishwomen, the plundering of english homesteads, and the tearing out of englishmen's eyes"; but when he was asked on snowdon if he was a breton, he replied: "i wish i was, or anything but what i am, one of a nation amongst whom any knowledge save what relates to money-making and over-reaching is looked upon as a disgrace. i am ashamed to say that i am an englishman." and at gutter fawr he gloomily expressed the opinion that we were not going to beat the russians--"the russians are a young nation and we are an old; they are coming on and we are going off; every dog has its day." but this was mere refractoriness. england had not asked his advice; she had moreover joined forces with her old enemy, france: the patriot therefore hoped that she would perish to fulfil his own prophecy that she must. and after the vaticination he sat down to a large dish of veal cutlets, fried bacon and potatoes, with a jug of ale, and "made one of the best suppers he ever made in his life," finally "trifling" with some whisky and water. that is "the religion of every sensible man," which is lord tennyson's phrase, i believe, but my interpretation. chapter xxxi--"wild wales": style "wild wales" having been written from a tourist's note books is less flowing than "the bible in spain" and less delicate than "lavengro" and "the romany rye." a man is often called an "individual," the sun is called "the candle of god." a book just bought is "my late literary acquisition." facts such as "i returned to llangollen by nearly the same way by which i had come," abound. sentences straight from his note book, lacking either in subject or predicate, occur here and there. at times a clause with no sort of value is admitted, as when, forgetting the name of kilvey hill, he says that swansea town and harbour "are overhung on the side of the east by a lofty green mountain with a welsh name, no doubt exceedingly appropriate, but which i regret to say has escaped my memory." {picture: the dolaucothy arms. photo: a. & g. taylor, swansea: page .jpg} more than once his direct simplicity slips into what could hardly have been supposed to be within the power of such a pen, as in this conclusion to a chapter: "how one enjoys one's supper at one's inn, after a good day's walk, provided one has the proud and glorious consciousness of being able to pay one's reckoning on the morrow!" nor is the reader ever allowed to forget that a massive unfeeling victorianism is the basis of borrow's style. thus he tells the story of the treachery of the long knives: "hengist, wishing to become paramount in southern britain, thought that the easiest way to accomplish his wish would be by destroying the south british chieftains. not believing that he should be able to make away with them by open force, he determined to see what he could do by treachery. accordingly he invited the chieftains to a banquet, to be held near stonehenge, or the hanging stones, on salisbury plain. the unsuspecting chieftains accepted the invitation, and on the appointed day repaired to the banquet, which was held in a huge tent. hengist received them with a smiling countenance, and every appearance of hospitality, and caused them to sit down to table, placing by the side of every briton one of his own people. the banquet commenced and all seemingly was mirth and hilarity. now hengist had commanded his people that, when he should get up and cry 'nemet eoure saxes,' that is, take your knives, each saxon should draw his long sax, or knife, which he wore at his side, and should plunge it into the throat of his neighbour. the banquet went on, and in the midst of it, when the unsuspecting britons were revelling on the good cheer which had been provided for them, and half-drunken with the mead and beer which flowed in torrents, uprose hengist, and with a voice of thunder uttered the fatal words, 'nemet eoure saxes'; the cry was obeyed, each saxon grasped his knife, and struck with it at the throat of his defenceless neighbour. almost every blow took effect; only three british chieftains escaping from the banquet of blood. this infernal carnage the welsh have appropriately denominated the treachery of the long knives. it will be as well to observe that the saxons derived their name from the saxes, or long knives, which they wore at their sides, and at the use of which they were terribly proficient." even so, borrow's personal vitality triumphs, as it does over his many mistakes, such as lledach for clydach, in welsh orthography. there is perhaps hardly such a thing as prose which shall be accounted perfect by every different age: but what is most important of all, the harmony of style which gradually steals upon the reader and subjects him to incalculable minor effects, is not the property of any one age, but of every age; and victorian prose in general, and borrow's in particular, attains it. "wild wales" is rough in grain; it can be long-winded, slovenly and dull: but it can also be read; and if the whole, or any large portion, be read continuously it will give a lively and true impression of a beautiful, diverse country, of a distinctive people, and of a number of vivid men and women, including borrow himself. it is less rich than "the bible in spain," less atmospheric than "lavengro." it is borrow's for reasons which lie open to the view, not on account of any hidden pervasive quality. thus what exaggeration there is may easily be seen, as when a fallow deer is described as equal to a bull in size, or when carn-lleidyr is said to be one "who, being without house and home, was more desperate than other thieves, and as savage and brutish as the wolves and foxes with whom he occasionally shared his pillow, the earn." as a rule he keeps us upon an everyday normal plane. the bard of anglesey and the man who attends upon him come through no ivory gate: "they saluted me; i returned their salutation, and then we all three stood still looking at one another. one of the men was rather a tall figure, about forty, dressed in grey, or pepper-and-salt, with a cap of some kind on his head, his face was long and rather good-looking, though slightly pock-broken. there was a peculiar gravity upon it. the other person was somewhat about sixty--he was much shorter than his companion, and much worse dressed--he wore a hat that had several holes in it, a dusty, rusty black coat, much too large for him; ragged yellow velveteen breeches, indifferent fustian gaiters, and shoes, cobbled here and there, one of which had rather an ugly bulge by the side near the toes. his mouth was exceedingly wide, and his nose remarkably long; its extremity of a deep purple; upon his features was a half-simple smile or leer; in his hand was a long stick." {picture: dolaucothy house. (from a photograph by lady pretyman, by whose kind permission it is reproduced.): page .jpg} my last example shall be the house of dolau cothi, near pumpsaint, in caermarthenshire: "after breakfast i departed for llandovery. presently i came to a lodge on the left-hand beside an ornamental gate at the bottom of an avenue leading seemingly to a gentleman's seat. on inquiring of a woman who sat at the door of the lodge to whom the grounds belonged, she said to mr. johnes, and that if i pleased i was welcome to see them. i went in and advanced along the avenue, which consisted of very noble oaks; on the right was a vale in which a beautiful brook was running north and south. beyond the vale to the east were fine wooded hills. i thought i had never seen a more pleasing locality, though i saw it to great disadvantage, the day being dull, and the season the latter fall. presently, on the avenue making a slight turn, i saw the house, a plain but comfortable gentleman's seat with wings. it looked to the south down the dale. 'with what satisfaction i could live in that house,' said i to myself, 'if backed by a couple of thousands a-year. with what gravity could i sign a warrant in its library, and with what dreamy comfort translate an ode of lewis glyn cothi, my tankard of rich ale beside me. i wonder whether the proprietor is fond of the old bard and keeps good ale. were i an irishman instead of a norfolk man i would go in and ask him.'" to the merit of this the whole book, perhaps the whole of borrow's work, contributes. simple-looking tranquil successes of this kind are the privilege of a master, and when they occur they proclaim the master with a voice which, though gentle, will find but few confessing to be deaf to it. they are not frequent in "wild wales." borrow had set himself too difficult a task to succeed altogether with his methods and at his age. wales was not unknown land; de quincey, shelley, and peacock, had been there in his own time; and borrow had not sufficient impulse or opportunity to transfigure it as he had done spain; nor had he the time behind him, if he had the power still, to treat it as he had done the country of his youth in "lavengro" and "the romany rye." chapter xxxii--"romano lavo-lil" ambition, with a little revenge, helped to impel borrow to write "lavengro" and "the romany rye." some of this ambition was left over for "wild wales," which he began and finished before the publication of "the romany rye." there was little of any impulse left for the writing of books after "wild wales." in and he published in "once a week" some translations in prose and verse, from manx, russian, danish and norse--one poem, on harald harfagr, being illustrated by frederick sandys. he never published the two-volume books, advertised as "ready for the press" in , "celtic bards, chiefs, and kings," "kaempe viser . . . translated from the ancient danish," "northern skalds, kings and earls." borrow was living in hereford square, seeing many people, occasionally dining well, walking out into the suburban country, and visiting the gypsy camps in london. he made notes of his observations and conversations, which, says knapp, "are not particularly edifying," whatever that may mean. knapp gives one example from the manuscript, describing the race at brompton, on october , , between deerfoot, the seneca indian, and jackson, the "american deer." borrow also wrote for the "antiquities of the royal school of norwich," an autobiography too long for insertion. this survived to be captured and printed by knapp. it is very inaccurate, but it serves to corroborate parts of "lavengro," and its inaccuracy, though now transparent, is characteristically exaggerated or picturesque. borrow's scattered notes would perhaps never have been published in his lifetime, but for an accident. in charles godfrey leland, author of "hans breitmann," introduced himself to borrow as one who had read "the zincali," "lavengro," and "the romany rye," five times. borrow answered that he would be pleased to see him at any time. they met and leland sent borrow his "breitmann ballads" because of the german romany ballad in it, and his "music lesson of confucius" because of the poem in it inspired by borrow's reference to svend vonved in "the romany rye." leland confessed in a genial familiar way what "an incredible influence" borrow's books had had on him, and thanked him for the "instructions in 'the romany rye' as to taking care of a horse on a thirty-mile ride." borrow became jealous of this american "romany rye." leland, suspecting nothing, wrote offering him the dedication of his "english gypsies." john murray assured leland that borrow received this letter, but it was never acknowledged except by the speedy announcement of a new book--"romano lavo-lil: a word book of the romany or english gypsy language, by george borrow, with specimens of gypsy poetry, and an account of certain gypsyries or places inhabited by them, and of various things relating to gypsy life in england." leland speaks of the affair in "the gypsies," saying that he had nothing but pleasant memories of the good old romany rye: "a grand old fellow he was--a fresh and hearty giant, holding his six- feet-two or three inches as uprightly at eighty as he ever had at eighteen. i believe that was his age, but may be wrong. borrow was like one of the old norse heroes, whom he so much admired, or an old-fashioned gypsy bruiser, full of craft and merry tricks. one of these he played on me, and i bear him no malice for it. the manner of the joke was this: i had written a book on the english gypsies and their language; but before i announced it, i wrote a letter to father george, telling him that i proposed to print it, and asking his permission to dedicate it to him. he did not answer the letter, but 'worked the tip' promptly enough, for he immediately announced in the newspapers on the following monday his 'word- book of the romany language,' 'with many pieces in gypsy, illustrative of the way of speaking and thinking of the english gypsies, with specimens of their poetry, and an account of various things relating to gypsy life in england.' this was exactly what i had told him that my book would contain. . . . i had no ill-feeling about it. "my obligations to him for 'lavengro' and 'the romany rye' and his other works are such as i owe to few men. i have enjoyed gypsying more than any other sport in the world, and i owe my love of it to george borrow." "the english gypsies" appeared in , and the "romano lavo-lil" in . "romano lavo-lil" contains a note on the english gypsy language, a word- book, some gypsy songs and anecdotes with english translations, a list of gypsy names of english counties and towns, and accounts of several visits to gypsy camps in london and the country. it was hastily put together, and the word-book, for example, did not include all the romany used in "lavengro" and "the romany rye." there were now critics capable of discovering other shortcomings. borrow's book was reviewed along with leland's "english gypsies" and dr. miklosich's "dialects and migrations of the gypsies in europe," and he was attacked for his derivations, his ignorance of philology and of other writers on his subject, his sketchy knowledge of languages, his interference with the purity of the idiom in his romany specimens. his gypsy songs were found interesting, his translations, of course, bad. the final opinion of the book as a book on the gypsy language was: { } "whether or not mr. borrow has in the course of his long experience become the _deep_ gypsy which he has always been supposed to be, we cannot say; but it is certain that his present book contains little more than he gave to the public forty years ago, and does not by any means represent the present state of knowledge on the subject. but at the present day, when comparative philology has made such strides, and when want of accurate scholarship is as little tolerated in strange and remote languages as in classical literature, the 'romano lavo-lil' is, to speak mildly, an anachronism." nor, apart from the word-book and gypsy specimens, is the book a good example of borrow's writing. the accounts of visits to gypsies at kirk yetholm, wandsworth, pottery lane (notting hill), and friar's mount (shore-ditch), are interesting as much for what they tell us of borrow's recreations in london as for anything else. the portrait of the "dark, mysterious, beautiful, terrible" mrs. cooper, the story of clara bosvil, the life of ryley bosvil--"a thorough gypsy, versed in all the arts of the old race, had two wives, never went to church, and considered that when a man died he was cast into the earth, and there was an end of him"--and his death and burial ceremony, and some of borrow's own opinions, for example, in favour of pontius pilate and george iv.--these are simple and vigorous in the old style. they show that with a sufficient impulse he could have written another book at least equal to "wild wales." but these uneven fragments were not worthy of the living man. they were the sort of thing that his friends might have been expected to gather up after he was dead. scraps like this from "wisdom of the egyptians," are well enough: "'my father, why were worms made?' 'my son, that moles might live by eating them.' 'my father, why were moles made?' 'my son, that you and i might live by catching them.' 'my father, why were you and i made?' 'my son, that worms might live by eating us.'" related to borrow, and to a living gypsy, by borrow's pen, how much better! it is a book that can be browsed on again and again, but hardly ever without this thought. it was the result of ambition, and might have been equal to its predecessors, but competition destroyed the impulse of ambition and spoilt the book. "romano lavo-lil" was his last book. for posthumous publication he left only "the turkish jester; or, the pleasantries of cogia nasr eddin effendi, translated from the turkish by g. b." (ipswich, ). this was a string of the sayings and adventures of one cogia, in this style: "one day cogia nasr eddin effendi said: 'o mussulmen, give thanks to god most high that he did not give the camel wings; for had he given them, they would have perched upon your houses and chimneys, and have caused them to tumble down upon your heads.'" this may have been the translation from the turkish that fitzgerald read in and could not admire. it is a diverting book and illustrates borrow's taste. chapter xxxiii--last years from to borrow lived at brompton, and perhaps because he wrote few letters these years seem to have been more cheerful, except at the time of his wife's death. he is seen at "the star and garter" in entertaining murray and two others at dinner, in a heavy and expensive style. he is still an uncomfortable, unattractive figure in a drawing- room, especially with accurate and intelligent ladies, like miss frances power cobbe, who would not humour his inaccurate dictatorship. miss cobbe was his neighbour in hereford square. she says that if he was not a gypsy by blood he ought to have been one; she "never liked him, thinking him more or less of a hypocrite," but nevertheless invited him to her house and tried to console him in his bereavement by a gentle tact which was not tact in borrow's case: "poor old borrow is in a sad state. i hope he is starting in a day or two for scotland. i sent c--- with a note begging him to come and eat the welsh mutton you sent me to-day, and he sent back word, 'yes.' then, an hour afterwards, he arrived, and in a most agitated manner said he had come to say 'he would rather not. he would not trouble anyone with his sorrows.' i made him sit down, and talked to him as gently as possible, saying: 'it won't be a trouble, mr. borrow, it will be a pleasure to me.' but it was all of no use. he was so cross, so _rude_, i had the greatest difficulty in talking to him. i asked him would he look at the photos of the siamese, and he said: 'don't show them to me!' so, in despair, as he sat silent, i told him i had been at a pleasant dinner-party the night before, and had met mr. l---, who told me of certain curious books of mediaeval history. 'did he know them?' 'no, and he _dared say_ mr. l--- did not, either! who was mr. l---?' i described that _obscure_ individual (one of the foremost writers of the day), and added that he was immensely liked by everybody. whereupon borrow repeated at least twelve times, 'immensely liked! as if a man could be immensely liked!' quite insultingly. to make a diversion (i was very patient with him as he was in trouble) i said i had just come home from the lyell's and had heard . . . but there was no time to say what i had heard! mr. borrow asked: 'is that old lyle i met here once, the man who stands at the door (of some den or other) and _bets_?' i explained who sir charles was (of course he knew very well), but he went on and on, till i said gravely: 'i don't think you meet those sort of people here, mr. borrow--we don't associate with blacklegs, exactly.'" a cantankerous man, and as little fitted for miss cobbe as miss cobbe for him. {picture: francis power cobbe. (reproduced by kind permission of messrs. miller, taylor and holmes.): page .jpg} there is not one pleasant story of borrow in a drawing-room. his great and stately stature, his bright "very black" or "soft brown" eyes, thick white hair, and smooth oval face, his "loud rich voice" that could be menacing with nervousness when he was roused, his "bold heroic air," { } ever encased in black raiment to complete the likeness to a "colossal clergyman," never seemed to go with any kind of furniture, wall- paper, or indoor company where there were strangers who might pester him. his physical vigour endured, though when nearing sixty he is said to have lamented that he was childless, saying mournfully: "i shall soon not be able to knock a man down, and i have no son to do it for me." { a} no record remains of his knocking any man down. but, at seventy, he could have walked off with e. j. trelawny, shelley's friend, under his arm, and was not averse to putting up his "dukes" to a tramp if necessary. { b} at ascot in he intervened when two or three hundred soldiers from windsor were going to wreck a gypsy camp for some affront. amid the cursing and screaming and brandishing of belts and tent-rods appeared "an arbiter, a white-haired brown-eyed calm colossus, speaking romany fluently, and drinking deep draughts of ale--in a quarter of an hour tommy atkins and anselo stanley were sworn friends over a loving quart." { c} but this is told by hindes groome, who said in one place that he met borrow once, and in another three times. at seventy, he would breakfast at eight in hereford square, walk to roehampton and pick up mr. watts-dunton or mr. hake, roam about wimbledon common and richmond park, bathe in the pen ponds even if it were march and there were ice on the water, then run about to dry, and after fasting for twelve hours would eat a dinner at roehampton "that would have done sir walter scott's eyes good to see." { d} he loved richmond park, and "seemed to know every tree." { e} he loved also "the bald-faced stag," in roehampton valley, and over his pot of ale would talk about jerry abershaw, the highwayman, and his deeds performed in the neighbourhood. { f} if he liked old burton and ' port he was willing to drink the worst swipes if necessary. { g} at another "bald-faced hind," above fairlop, he used to see the gypsies, for it was their trysting place. he went in search of them in wandsworth and battersea and whereever they were to be found, from notting hill to epsom downs, though they were corrupted by loss of liberty and, in his opinion, were destined soon to disappear, "merged in the dregs of the english population." with them, as with others, his vocabulary was "rich in picturesque words of the high road and dingle." once he consented to join a friend in trying matthew arnold's "scholar gypsy" on gypsy taste. the gypsy girl was pleased with the seventeenth-century story on which the poem is based, and with some "lovely bits of description," but she was in the main at first bewildered, and at last unsympathetic and ran away. the beauty of the girl was too much for borrow's power of expression--it was "really quite--quite--." the girl's companion, a young woman with a child, was smoking a pipe, and borrow took it out of her mouth and asked her not to smoke till he came again, because the child was sickly and his friend put it down to the tobacco. "it ought to be a criminal offence for a woman to smoke at all," said borrow; "fancy kissing a woman's mouth that smelt of stale tobacco--pheugh!" { } whether this proves borrow's susceptibility to female charm i cannot say, but it seems to me rather to prove a sort of connoisseurship, which is not the same thing. just after he was seventy, in , the year of jasper petulengro's death, borrow left london for oulton. he was no longer the walker and winter bather of a year or two before, but was frequently at lodgings in norwich, and seen and noted as he walked in the streets or sat in the "norfolk." at oulton he was much alone and was to be heard "by startled rowers on the lake" chanting verses after his fashion. his remarkable appearance, his solitariness in the neglected house and tangled garden, his conversation with gypsies whom he allowed to camp on his land, created something of a legend. children called after him "gypsy!" or "witch!" { } towards the end he was joined at oulton by his stepdaughter and her husband, dr. macoubrey. in he was too feeble to walk a few hundred yards, and furious with a man who asked his age. in he made his will. on july , , when he was left entirely alone for the day, he died, after having expected death for some time. he was taken to west brompton to be buried in that cemetery beside his wife. conclusion in his introduction to "the romany rye," { } hindes groome gave a long list of romany ryes to show that borrow was neither the only one nor the first. he went on to say that there must have been over a dozen englishmen, in , with a greater knowledge of the anglo-gypsy dialect than borrow showed in "romano lavo-lil." he added that borrow's knowledge "of the strange history of the gypsies was very elementary, of their manners almost more so, and of their folk-lore practically _nil_." and yet, he concluded, he "would put george borrow above every other writer on the gypsies. . . . he communicates a subtle insight into gypsydom that is totally wanting in the works--mainly philological--of pott, liebich . . . and their _confreres_." hindes groome was speaking, too, from the point of view of a romany student, not of a critic of human literature. in the same way borrow stands above other english writers on spain and wales, for the insight and life that are lacking in the works of the authorities. as a master of the living word, borrow's place is high, and it is unnecessary to make other claims for him. he was a wilful roamer in literature and the world, who attained to no mastery except over words. if there were many romany ryes before borrow, as there were great men before agamemnon, there was not another borrow, as there was not another homer. he sings himself. he creates a wild spain, a wild england, a wild wales, and in them places himself, the gypsies, and other wildish men, and himself again. his outstanding character, his ways and gestures, irresistible even when offensive, hold us while he is in our presence. in these repressed indoor days, we like a swaggering man who does justice to the size of the planet. we run after biographies of extraordinary monarchs, poets, bandits, prostitutes, and see in them magnificent expansions of our fragmentary, undeveloped, or mistaken selves. we love strange mighty men, especially when they are dead and can no longer rob us of property, sleep, or life: we can handle the great hero or blackguard by the fireside as easily as a cat. borrow, as his books portray him, is admirably fitted to be our hero. he stood six-feet-two and was so finely made that, in spite of his own statement which could not be less than true, others have declared him six-feet-three and six- feet-four. he could box, ride, walk, swim, and endure hardship. he was adventurous. he was solitary. he was opinionated and a bully. he was mysterious: he impressed all and puzzled many. he spoke thirty languages and translated their poetry into verse. moreover, he ran away. he ran away from school as a boy. he ran away from london as a youth. he ran away from england as a man. he ran away from west brompton as an old man, to the gypsyries of london. he went out into the wilderness and he savoured of it. his running away from london has something grand and allegorical about it. it reminds me of the welshman on london bridge, carrying a hazel stick which a strange old man recognised as coming from craig-y-dinas, and at the old man's bidding he went to craig-y-dinas and to the cave in it, and found arthur and his knights sleeping and a great treasure buried. . . {picture: the gipsyrie at battersea. photo: w. j. roberts: page .jpg} in these days when it is a remarkable thing if an author has his pocket picked, or narrowly escapes being in a ship that is wrecked, or takes poison when he is young, even the outline of borrow's life is attractive. like byron, ben jonson, and chaucer, he reminds us that an author is not bound to be a nun with a beard. he depicts himself continually, at all ages, and in all conditions of pathos or pride. other human beings, with few exceptions, he depicts only in relation to himself. he never follows men and women here and there, but reveals them in one or two concentrated hours; and either he admires or he dislikes, and there is no mistaking it. thus his humour is limited by his egoism, which leads him into extravagance, either to his own advantage or to the disadvantage of his enemies. he kept good company from his youth up. wistful or fancifully envious admiration for the fortunate simple yeomen, or careless poor men, or noble savages, or untradesmanlike fishermen, or unromanized _germani_, or animals who do not fret about their souls, admiration for those in any class who are not for the fashion of these days, is a deep-seated and ancient sentiment, akin to the sentiment for childhood and the golden age. borrow met a hundred men fit to awaken and satisfy this admiration in an age when thousands can over-eat and over-dress in comfort all the days of their life. sometimes he shows that he himself admires in this way, but more often he mingles with them as one almost on an equality with them, though his melancholy or his book knowledge is at times something of a foil. he introduces us to fighting men, jockeys, thieves, and ratcatchers, without our running any risk of contamination. above all, he introduces us to the gypsies, people who are either young and beautiful or strong, or else witch-like in a fierce old age. izaak walton heard the gypsies talking under the honeysuckle hedge at waltham, and the beggar virgin singing: "bright shines the sun, play, beggars play! here's scraps enough to serve to-day." glanvill told of the poor oxford scholar who went away with the gypsies and learnt their "traditional kind of learning," and meant soon to leave them and give the world an account of what he had learned. men like george morland have lived for a time with gypsies. matthew arnold elaborated glanvill's tale in a sweet oxford strain. all these things delight us. some day we shall be pleased even with the gypsy's carrion- eating and thieving, "those habits of the gypsy, shocking to the moralist and sanitarian, and disgusting to the person of delicate stomach," which please mr. w. h. hudson "rather than the romance and poetry which the scholar-gypsy enthusiasts are fond of reading into him." borrow's gypsies are wild and uncoddled and without sordidness, and will not soon be superseded. they are painted with a lively if ideal colouring, and they live only in his books. they will not be seen again until the day of jefferies' wild england, "after london," shall come, and tents are pitched amidst the ruins of palaces that had displaced earlier tents. borrow's england is the old england of fielding, painted with more intensity because even as borrow was travelling the change was far advanced, and when he was writing had been fulfilled. and now most people have to keep off the grass, except in remotest parts or in the neighbourhood of large towns where landowners are, to some extent, kept in their place. the rivers, the very roads, are not ours, as they were borrow's. we go out to look for them still, and of those who adventure with caravan, tent, or knapsack, the majority must be consciously under borrow's influence. yet he was no mere lover and praiser of old times. his london in is more romantic than the later london of more deliberate romances: he found it romantic; he did not merely think it would be so if only we could see it. he loved the old and the wild too well to deface his feeling by more than an occasional comparison with the new and the refined, and these comparisons are not effective. he is best when he is without apparent design. as a rule if he has a design it is too obvious: he exaggerates, uses the old-fashioned trick of re-appearance and recognition, or breaks out into heavy eloquence of description or meditation. these things show up because he is the most "natural" of writers. his style is a modification of the style of his age, and is without the consistent personal quality of other vigorous men's, like hazlitt or cobbett. perhaps english became a foreign language like his other thirty. thus his books have no professional air, and they create without difficulty the illusion of reality. this lack of a literary manner, this appearance of writing like everybody else in his day, combines, with his character and habits, to endear him to a generation that has had its pater and may find stevenson too silky. more than most authors borrow appears greater than his books, though he is their offspring. it is one of his great achievements to have made his books bring forth this lusty and mysterious figure which moves to and fro in all of them, worthy of the finest scenes and making the duller ones acceptable. he is not greater than his books in the sense that he is greater than the sum of them: as a writer he made the most out of his life. but in the flesh he was a fine figure of a man, and what he wrote has added something, swelling him to more than human proportions, stranger and more heroical. so we come to admire him as a rare specimen of the _genus homo_, who had among other faculties that of writing english; and at last we have him armed with a pen that is mightier than a sword, but with a sword as well, and what he writes acquires a mythical value. should his writing ever lose the power to evoke this figure, it might suffer heavily. we to-day have many temptations to over praise him, because he is a great man, a big truculent outdoor wizard, who comes to our doors with a marvellous company of gypsies and fellows whose like we shall never see again and could not invent. when we have used the impulse he may give us towards a ruder liberty, he may be neglected; but i cannot believe that things so much alive as many and many a page of borrow will ever die. bibliography of george borrow by edward thomas. "new monthly magazine," vol. : "the diver, a ballad translated from the german," by g. o. b. "monthly magazine," vol. : "ode to a mountain torrent," from the german of stolberg; "death," from the swedish of j. c. lohmann; "mountain song," from the german of schiller; "danish poetry and ballad writing," with a translation of "skion middel"; "lenora," a new translation from the german, in the metre of the original; "chloe," from the dutch of johannes bellamy; "sea-song," from the danish of evald; "the erl-king, from the german of goethe; signed "george olaus borrow." "monthly magazine," vol. : "bernard's address to his army," a ballad from the spanish; "the singing mariner," a ballad from the spanish; "the french princess," a ballad from the spanish; "the nightingale," translated from the danish; signed, all but the last, "george olaus borrow." "monthly magazine," vol. : "danish traditions and superstitions"; "war- song," written when the french invaded spain, translated from the spanish of vincente, by george olaus borrow; "danish songs and ballads," no. , bear song, by "b." "universal review," vols. and , may, june, sept, nov.: unsigned reviews by borrow. . "monthly magazine," vol. : "danish traditions and superstitions." "monthly magazine," vol. : "danish traditions and superstitions," in five parts; "the deceived merman," from the danish, by "g. b." "monthly magazine," vol. : "danish traditions and superstitions," in two parts. "universal review," vol. , jan.: unsigned reviews by borrow. "celebrated trials, and remarkable cases of criminal jurisprudence, from the earliest records to the year ." vols. knight and lacey, paternoster row. "faustus: his life, death, and descent into hell," translated from the german. london, simpkin and marshall. . "romantic ballads," translated from the danish: and miscellaneous pieces, by george borrow. norwich, s. wilkin, upper-haymarket. other copies printed by s. wilkin, published by john taylor, london. - . "memoirs of vidocq," principal agent of the french police until , and now proprietor of the paper manufactory at st. mande. written by himself. translated from the french [by borrow?]. vols. london, whittaker, treacher and arnot, ave maria lane. . "foreign quarterly review," vol. , june. [sixteen translations from the danish by borrow, in an article by john bowring.] . "norfolk chronicle," august : on the origin of the word "tory," by george borrow. . "el evangelio segun san lucas traducido del latin al mexicano . . ." londres, impreso por samuel bagster. [corrected for the press by borrow.] . "targum, or metrical translations from thirty languages and dialects," by george borrow. st. petersburg, schulz and beneze. "the talisman," from the russian of alexander pushkin, with other pieces. st. petersburg, schulz and beneze. [translated by borrow.] "mousei echen isus gheristos i tuta puha itche ghese." st. petersburg, schulz and beneze. [edited by borrow.] . "athenaeum," august : "the gypsies of russia and spain." [unsigned.] "athenaeum," march . review of "targum," and of borrow's edition of the "manchu bible," by john p. hasfeldt, . "el nuevo testamento, traducido al espanol. . . ." madrid, d. joaquin de la barrera. edited by borrow. "embeo e majaro lucas. . . . el evangelio segun s. lucas, traducido al romani, o dialecto de los gitanos de espana." madrid. [translated by borrow, "in badajoz, in the winter of ."] . "evangelioa san lucasen guissan. el evangelio segun s. lucas, traducido al vascuence." madrid, gompania tipografica. [edited by borrow.] . "the zincali, or an account of the gypsies of spain, with an original collection of their songs, and a copious dictionary of their language." by george borrow, late agent of the british and foreign bible society. in vols. london, john murray. . "athenaeum," april and may; review of "the zincali." "blackwood," september; review of "the zincali." "monthly review," may; review of "the zincali." "westminster review," may; review of "the zincali," by john bowring. "british and foreign review," june. review of "the zincali," by richard ford. "excursions along the shores of the mediterranean," by col. e. h. d. elers napier. "gypsies," by samuel roberts. th edition. (letter by borrow.) "the bible in spain, or the journeys, adventures, and imprisonments of an englishman, in an attempt to circulate the scriptures in the peninsula," by george borrow. in vols. london, john murray. "athenaeum," december; review of "the bible in spain." "quarterly," december; review of "the bible in spain." "spectator," december; review of "the bible in spain." . "the zincali." second edition, with preface dated march , . "memoirs of william taylor," by j. w. robberds. "edinburgh review," february; review of "the bible in spain," by richard ford. "dublin review," may; review of "the bible in spain." "tait's edinburgh review," february, march; review of "the bible in spain." . "lavengro: the scholar--the gypsy--the priest," by george borrow. in vols. london, john murray. portrait by henry wyndham phillips. "athenaeum," february; review of "lavengro." "blackwood," march; review of "lavengro." "fraser," march; review of "lavengro." "new monthly magazine," march; review of "lavengro," by w. h. ainsworth. "new monthly magazine," april; review of "lavengro," by t. gordon hake. "tait's edinburgh magazine," may; review of "lavengro," by william bodham donne. "britannia," april ; review of "lavengro." . "hungary in ; with an experience of the austrian police," by charles l. brace. . "the romany rye," a sequel to "lavengro," by george borrow. in vols. london, john murray. "quarterly review"; review of "lavengro," by whitwell elwin. "saturday review," may ; review of "lavengro." "athenaeum," may ; review of "lavengro." . "history of the british and foreign bible society," by george browne. . "the sleeping bard, or visions of the world, death, and hell," by elis wyn. translated from the cambrian british by george borrow. london, john murray. . "quarterly review," january: "the welsh and their literature," by george borrow. . "wild wales: its people, language, and scenery," by george borrow. vols. london, john murray. "spectator," december; review of "wild wales." "once a week," vol. : "ballads of the isle of man,"--"brown william," and "mollie charane." "russian popular tales"--"emelian the fool," "the story of yvashka with the bear's ear," and "the story of tim." vol. : "harold harfagr." [translations by borrow.] . "once a week," vol. : "the count of vendel's daughter." vol. : "the hail-storm, or the death of bui." [translations by borrow.] "the cornhill magazine," january; review of "wild wales." . "romany rye," rd edition, with note by borrow. . "romano lavo-lil: word-book of the romany, or english gypsy language. with many pieces in gypsy, illustrative of the way of thinking of the english gypsies: with specimens of their poetry, and an account of certain gypsyries or places inhabited by them, and of various things relating to gypsy life in england." by george borrow. london, john murray. "athenaeum," april ; review of "romano lavo-lil." "academy," june ; review of "romano lavo-lil," by f. hindes groome. . "correspondence and table talk of b. r. haydon." . "autobiography of harriet martineau." . "in gypsy tents," by f. hindes groome. . "athenaeum," august , article by whitwell elwin. "athenaeum," august , article by a. egmont hake. "athenaeum," september and , articles by theodore watts. "macmillan's magazine," november, articles by a. egmont hake. . "memories of old friends," by caroline fox. . "east anglican handbook," article by charles mackie. "east anglia," by j. ewing ritchie. "the red dragon, the national magazine of wales." vol. . "george borrow in wales," by tal-a-hen. . "the turkish jester; or, the pleasantries of cogia nasr eddin effendi." translated from the turkish by george borrow. ipswich, w. webber. . "ecrivains modernes de l'angleterre," par emile montegut. . "macmillan's magazine," article by george saintsbury. . "obiter dicta," by augustine birrell. [ nd series.] "epoch (u.s.a.)" article by julian hawthorne. . "athenaeum," march , article by theodore watts. "reflector," jan. , article by augustine birrell. "la critique scientifique," by emile hennequin. paris. . "the death of balder." translated from the danish of evald, by george borrow. norwich. london, jarrold and son. "letters and literary remains of edward fitzgerald." "journal of gypsy lore society," vol. , article by rev. wentworth webster. "bible in spain," with biographical introduction by g. t. bettany, london: ward, lock. . "views and reviews," by w. e. henley. "essays in english literature," by g. saintsbury. . "a publisher and his friends," by samuel smiles. . "eastern daily press," september , , . "eastern daily press," october . "bohemes et gypsies" (translation of parts of "lavengro," with biographical sketch by h. duclos. paris). "memoirs of eighty years," by thomas gordon hake. . "bookman," february, article by f. hindes groome. "athenaeum," july , article by augustus jessopp. "athenaeum," july , article by a. w. upcher. "lavengro," with introduction by theodore watts. london, ward, lock. "memoirs," by c. g. leland. . "letters of edward fitzgerald," edited by w. aldis wright. "life of frances power cobbe," by herself. . "journals and correspondence of lady eastlake," edited by c. e. smith. "good words," february, article by john murray. . "george borrow in east anglia," by w. a. dutt. "lavengro," with introduction by augustine birrell; illustrated by e. j. sullivan. london, macmillan. "bible in spain," with notes and glossary by ulick ralph burke. london, murray. "globe," july . "vestiges of george borrow: some personal reminiscences." . "bible society reporter," july. "life, writings, and correspondence of george borrow," derived from official and other authentic sources, by william i. knapp, with portrait and illustrations. vols. london, john murray. "athenaeum," march ; review of w. i. knapp's "life of borrow," by theodore watts-dunton. "bookman," may; review of knapp, by f. hindes groome. . "lavengro." a new edition, containing the unaltered text of the original issue; some suppressed episodes; ms. variorum, vocabulary and notes. by the author of "the life of george borrow." definitive edition. london, john murray. "lavengro," illustrated by c. a. shepperson, with introduction by c. e. beckett. "the romany rye." a new edition, containing the unaltered text of the original issue; some suppressed episodes; ms. variorum, vocabulary and notes. by the author of "the life of george borrow." definitive edition. london, john murray. "the romany rye," with a defence of george borrow, by theodore watts-dunton. "daily chronicle," april , , article by augustus jessopp. . "more letters of edward fitzgerald," edited by w. aldis wright. "archiv, n. s.," july; "george borrow," by georg herzfeld. berlin. "isopel berners," edited by thomas seccombe. [passages arranged from "lavengro" and "the romany rye."] "lavengro," edited by f. hindes groome. . "bookman," february; "george borrow, his homes and haunts," by thomas seccombe. "some th century men of letters," by whitwell elwin, edited by warwick elwin. . "the romany rye," edited by john sampson. . "story of the bible society," by william canton. "gypsy stories from 'the bible in spain,'" edited by w. h. d. rouse. "stories of antonio and benedict mol," edited by w. h. d. rouse. "lavengro," illustrated by claude shepperson. . "the letters of richard ford," edited by r. e. prothero. "william bodham donne and his friends," by catherine b. johnson. "selections from george borrow." london, arnold. "spanish influence on english literature," by martin a. s. hume. . "lavengro," edited by thomas seccombe. (everyman library.) "wild wales," edited by theodore watts-dunton. (everyman library.) "the bible in spain," edited by edward thomas. (everyman library.) "charles godfred leland," by elizabeth robins pennell. "the vagabond in literature," by arthur rickett. . "immortal memories," by clement shorter. "the literature of roguery," by frank w. chandler. . "george borrow: the man and his work," by r. a. j. walling. "the annals of willenhall," by frederick william hackwood. "the bible in the world," july; "footprints of george borrow," by a. g. jayne. . "the border magazine," march, april: "george borrow and the borders," by j. pringle. "annals of the harford family." . "the little guide to staffordshire," by charles masefield (s.v. willenhall and bushbury). "y cymmrodor" (journal of the honourable society of cymmrodorion): "journal of borrow's second tour in wales," with notes by t. c. cantrill and j. pringle. "gypsy lore." vol. (new series): article on borrow's "gypsies," by t. w. thompson. "george borrow," by bernhard blaesing. berlin. . "letters of george borrow to the bible society," edited by t. h. darlow. "post liminium," by lionel johnson. . "the life of george borrow," compiled from unpublished official documents, his works, correspondence, etc. by herbert jenkins, with a frontispiece and other illustrations. london, john murray. "nation," review of above, feb. . "new age," review of above, by t. w. thompson, march. index "adventures of captain singleton, the," pp. - , . "athenaeum, the," pp. , , - , , , . barbauld, mrs., p. . benson, a. c., p. . berners, isopel, pp. , , , . _see also_ romany rye--characters. berwick-upon-tweed, p. . bible in spain, the, general references, pp. , , , , , , , . studied in detail, pp. - . autobiographical basis of, p. . characters of, pp. - : benedict mol, pp. - ; antonio, pp. - ; abarbanel, p. ; francisco, pp. - . materials of, pp. , , , , , . style, pp. , - : faults, p. ; biblical touches, p. ; dialogue, pp. - ; foreign words, pp. , - . quotations from, pp. - , , - , , - . contemporary and other criticisms of:--pp. , - , , , . british and foreign bible society, the, pp. , , - , - , ; for borrow's letters to the society, _see_ "letters." blackheath, pp. , . borrow, ann, pp. , , , , , , , , , , . borrow, john thomas, pp. - , , , , , . borrow, george henry, (i) life:-- parentage, pp. - . birth, pp. , . his name, pp. - . travelling with his father's regiment, pp. - . at pett, pp. , . at hythe, pp. , . at canterbury, p. . at dereham, pp. , . at norman cross, and first meeting with gypsies, p. . at school at dereham, huddersfield and edinburgh, p. ; at norwich grammar school, p. ; at the protestant academy, clonmel, pp. - ; again at norwich grammar school, pp. , - . plays truant, pp. , . breakdown in health at sixteen, pp. , . articled to a solicitor at norwich, p. . frequents taylor's circle, pp. - . reads in the library of norwich guildhall, p. . publishes translations, pp. - . has another illness, p. . goes to london, p. . compiles "celebrated trials" and publishes translations and articles, p. . ill again: leaves london and begins wandering, p. . poisoned by mrs. herne, p. ; meets isopel berners, _id_. at norwich in , p. ; in london in same year, _id_. at norwich in , p. . in london in and , _id_. at norwich in , p. . meets mrs. clarke, , p. . interview with the bible society in same year, _id_. sent to st. petersburg, july, , pp. - . travels to novgorod and moscow, p. . leaves russia in , p. . after a month in england, sails for lisbon in november, , p. . crosses into spain early in , reaches madrid, and returns to london in october, p. . returns to spain at the end of a month, p. . quarrels with the society, and is recalled in , pp. - . returns to spain at end of the same year, p. . journeys to tangier and barbary in , p. . becomes engaged to mrs. clarke, p. . leaves spain finally in april, , p. . marries mrs. clarke, _id_. settles at oulton, p. . publication of "the zincali" in , p. . publication of "the bible in spain" in , p. . re-editions and translations of "the bible in spain," p. . his fame and popularity, _id_. is not made a j.p., p. . restless and unsatisfied, p. . travels again in , p. . settles in england, p. . writes "lavengro," p. . publication of "lavengro" in , p. . moves to yarmouth in , p. . publication of "the romany rye" delayed, p. . his annoyance at the criticisms of "lavengro," pp. , - . tours in cornwall in , p. . in wales in , pp. - . in the isle of man in , pp. - . in wales in , pp. - . in scotland in , pp. - . settles in london in , p. . visits ireland in , p. . publication of "wild wales" in , p. . in scotland and ireland in , p. . in sussex and hampshire in , p. . meets leland in , pp. - . publication of "romano lavo-lil" in , p. . anecdotes of borrow _aetat_. - , pp. - . leaves london and goes to oulton in , p. . is often in norwich, _id_. death in , p. . (ii.) character:-- appearance, pp. , , , , - (at twenty-two), - (at forty), (at eighty). portraits, pp. , , . manners, pp. - . habits as a child, pp. , . self-centred, p. ; reserved and solitary, p. ; melancholy, pp. , , , ; mysterious and impressive, pp. - , , ; sensitive, p. attacks of "horrors," pp. , , sqq., . surly and ill-tempered in middle life, pp. , . kindness to animals, pp. - . passion for horses, pp. , - , , . dislike of smoking, pp. , ; and other prejudices, pp. - . attitude towards vagrants and criminals, pp. - . patriotism, pp. , - . religious belief, pp. , - , , , - , , , , - , , - , - , , , , - . his memory, pp. - , , . (iii.) characteristics as a writer:-- collection and choice of material, pp. , - , . personality and observation, p. . descriptive power, pp. - . vocabulary, pp. , . use of the marvellous and supernatural, p. . treatment of facts, pp. , , - , , , , , , , - , , , , , , - . use of dramatic re-appearances, pp. , , , - , - , , , . love of mystery and romance, pp. , - , , - , , , . final estimate, pp. - . (iv.) literary development:-- his imagination stimulated by danish relics, p. . his reading, pp. - , - , . character of his early work, pp. - , , - , . (v.) knowledge of languages:-- latin, pp. , ; greek, pp. , ; irish, pp. , ; french, p. ; italian, _id_.; spanish, _id_.; gypsy, pp. , - , ; welsh, pp. , - ; danish, p. ; hebrew, p. ; arabic, pp. , ; armenian, pp. , , ; german, p. ; portuguese, p. ; old english, p. ; old norse, p. ; swedish, p. ; dutch, p. ; persian, pp. , ; manchu-tartar, pp. , ; russian, pp. - ; manx, pp. - : translations from welsh, pp. , , ; from danish, pp. , ; from german, pp. , , from swedish, p. ; from dutch, p. ; from gypsy, pp. - ; from russian, pp. - ; from manx, p. ; from "thirty languages," pp. , . (vi.) portrayal of himself:-- general references, pp. , , , , , , , , , - . as a child, p. . as a missionary, p. . in "the zincali," pp. - . in "the bible in spain," pp. , , , - . in "lavengro," pp. - . in "the romany rye," pp. - , - . in "wild wales," pp. - . borrow, mary, pp. , , , . borrow, thomas, pp. , - , , , . early life and marriage, p. . at norwich, pp. , - , . death, p. . bowring, j., pp. - , , , , . brooke, j., p. . bunyan, j., p. . burton, r., pp. - . byron, ld., pp. , , , . carlyle, j., p. . "catholic times, the," p. . "celebrated trials," pp. , , , . clarke, henrietta, pp. , , , , , , . clarke, mary, pp. , , , , - , : _see also_ borrow mary. cobbe, f. p., pp. - . cobbett, w., pp. - , . cowper, w., pp , . "dairyman's daughter, the," pp. - . darlow, t. h., pp. , . defoe, d., pp. , - , , . de quincey, t., pp. , . donne, w. b., p. . dutt, w. a., p. . east dereham, pp. , , . eastlake, lady, p. . "edinburgh review, the," pp. , , . "elvir hill," p. . elwin, w., pp. , , , . "english rogue, the," p. . "examiner, the," p. . fitzgerald, e., pp. , . flamson, p. . ford, r., pp. , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , . fox, caroline, p. . "fraser's magazine," pp. - . giraldus cambrensis, pp. - . "gil blas," pp. , . goethe, p. . groome, f. hindes, pp. , , . gurney, a., p. . gypsies, pp. , - , - , - , - , , , , - , - , - , - , , , , - , , - , - , - , - , - , - , - . "gypsies of spain, the," _see_ "zincali, the." "gypsy lore" (article by t. w. thompson), p. . haggart, david, pp. - . hake, a. e., pp. , . hake, g., p. . hardy, t., p. . "hayward, s. d., the life of," pp. - . hazlitt, w., p. . hudson, w. h., p. . jefferies, r., pp. , , . "joseph sell," pp. - , . keats, j., p, . knapp, w. i., pp. , , , - , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , - , , , , , , , , . lamb, c., p. . lavengro, general references, p. , - , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , . studied in detail, pp. - . autobiographical basis, pp. , - , . characters of, pp. , - . the publisher, pp. - . the anglo-germanist, p. . jasper petulengro, s.v. and pp. - . _see also_ romany rye--characters. materials of, pp. , - . style, pp. - , - . occasionally victorian, pp. - . the vocabulary, pp. - . quotations from, pp. - , - , - , - , - , - , , - , - , - , - , - , , - , - , - , - , , - , - . contemporary and other criticisms of:--pp. , , , , . leland, c. g., pp. - , - . letters of borrow to the bible society, general references, pp. , , , , - , . quotations from, pp. - , - , - , , . lhuyd's "archaeologia," p. . "life, a drama," pp. , . lockhart, j. g., p. . "mabinogion, the," p. . mackintosh, sir j., p. . martineau, j., p. . martineau, h., p. . "moll flanders," p. . montegut, e., p. . "monthly magazine, the," pp. , . moore-carew, b., pp. - . morganwg, iolo, p. . murray, j., pp. , , , . "my life: a drama," p. . napier, col., pp. - , . "new monthly magazine, the," p. . "newgate lives and trials," _see_ "_celebrated trials_." "once a week," pp. , . opie, a., p. . oulton, pp. , , . "oxford review, the," _see_ "universal review, the." perfrement, ann, p. : _see also_ borrow, ann. peto, mr., p. . petulengro, jasper, pp. , - , , , , , : _see also_ lavengro--characters. phillips, h. w., p. . phillips, sir, r., pp. , , . "quarterly review, the," pp. , , - . reynolds, j. h., pp. - . ritchie, j. e., p. . robinson, crabb, p. . "robinson crusoe," pp. - , . "romantic ballads," pp. , , . romano lavo-lil, autobiographical anecdote in, pp. - . publication of, pp. - . criticisms of, pp. - . main interest of, pp. - . romany rye, the, general references, pp. , , , , . studied in detail, pp. - . inferiority to "lavengro," p. . autobiographical basis of, p. - , , . characters of, pp. , - . flamson, p. . the old radical, p. . isopel berners, s.v. and pp. - . the man in black, pp. - . materials of, pp. - . style, _see under_ lavengro--style. quotations from, pp. - , - , - , - , - , - , - , - , , - , - , - , - . contemporary and other criticisms of, pp. , . "saturday review, the," p. . scaliger, j., p. . scott, sir w., pp. , . seccombe, t., pp. , , , , , - , - . "sleeping bard, the," pp. - , - . smith, ambrose, pp. , , . smollett, j., pp. , . "songs of scandinavia," p. . southey, r., pp. , . sterne, l. pp. , , . stevenson, r. l., p. . strickland, a., p. . "tait's edinburgh magazine," p. . "targum," pp. , . taylor, w., pp. , - . thurtell, j., pp. , - , , , - . "turkish jester, the," p. . "universal review, the," pp. , . vidocq's memoirs, pp - , . "vocabulary of the gypsy language," p. . walling, r. a. j., pp. , , , , , , . "wandering children and the benevolent gentleman, the," p. . watts-dunton, t., pp. , , , , , , . wesley, j., p. . wild wales, general references, pp. , - . studied in detail, pp. - . autobiographical basis, pp. - . characters of, pp. - . the bard, pp. - . the irish fiddler, pp. - . materials of, pp. , . style, pp. - . quotations from, pp. - , , - , - , - - , , - , - , , . criticisms of, p. . wordsworth, w., p. . yeats, w. b., p. . zincali, the, general references, pp. , in, . studied in detail, pp. - . autobiographical basis of, p. . characters of, the gitana of seville, pp. - . materials of, p. , - , , . style, pp. , , . contemporary and other criticisms of, pp. - , . quotations from, p. - , - , - , - , - , - , - . footnotes: { } thomas seccombe; introduction to "lavengro" (everyman). { } "gypsy lore," jan., . { } "lavengro," chapter vi. { a} knapp i., - . { b} ii., . { a} good-day. { b} glandered horse. { c} two brothers. { a} christmas, literally wine-day. { b} irishman or beggar, literally a dirty squalid person. { c} guineas. { a} silver teapots. { b} the gypsy word for a certain town (norwich). { } suppressed ms. of "lavengro," quoted in knapp i., . { } knapp i., . { } "lavengro." { } _see_ "panthera" in "time's laughing stocks," by thomas hardy. { a} j. ewing ritchie. { b} dr. knapp, i., , connects this question with captain borrow's last will and testament, made on feb. , . { } "george borrow: the man and his work," . { a} translation published, norwich, , anonymous. { b} translation published, london, jarrold & sons, . { } "romantic ballads." { } "the gypsies." { a} "the romany rye," edited by f. hindes groome. { b} translated, . { } "isopel berners." { } knapp, i., . { } _see_ "_wild wales_," chapter xxxiii. { } borrow's letters to the bible society: introduction, p. . { a} borrow's letters to the bible society, p. . { b} _ibid_., p. . { c} _ibid_., p. . { d} _ibid_., p. . { a} borrow's letters to the bible society, p. . { b} _ibid_., p. . { } borrow's letters to the bible society, p. . { } august , . { } wentworth webster, in "journal of gypsy lore society." { } "borrow's letters to the bible society," p. . { } "borrow's letters to the bible society," p. . { } letter to the bible society, th nov., . { } "edinburgh review," february, . { } the hostess, maria diaz, and her son juan jose lopez, were present when the outcast uttered these prophetic words. { a} edited by t. h. darlow, hodder and stoughton. { b} _see_, _e.g._, "bible in spain," chapter xiii. "i shall have frequent occasion to mention the swiss in the course of _these journals_ . . ."; also the preface. { c} _ibid_., p. . { } borrow's letters to the bible society, p. . { } knapp, i., p. . { } witch. ger. hexe. { } fake. { } egmont hake; "athenaeum," th august, . { } "george borrow in east anglia," by w. a. dutt. { } t. watts-dunton in "lavengro" (minerva library). { } "memoirs of years," by gordon hake. { } "edward fitzgerald," a. c. benson. { a} "athenaeum," july, . { b} knapp and w. a. dutt. { } see chapters ii., iii., and iv. { a} r. a. j. walling. { b} "athenaeum," th march, . { } "lavengro" (minerva library). { a} "in gypsy tents." { b} march th, . { } "isopel berners." { } "isopel berners," edited by thomas seccombe. { a} vol. xxii., . { b} merlin's bridge, on the outskirts of haverfordwest. { c} merlin's hill. { d} river daucleddau. the river at haverfordwest is the western cleddau; it joins the eastern cleddau about six miles below the town. both rivers then become known as daucleddau or the two cleddaus. { e} borrow means milford haven; the swallowing capacities of the western cleddau are small. { f} north-west. { a} pelcomb bridge. { b} camrose parish. { c} appropriately known as tinker's bank. { d} dr. knapp was unable to decipher this word. he remarks in a note that the pencillings are much rubbed and almost illegible. we think, however, that the word should be plumstone, a lofty hill which borrow would see just before he crossed pelcomb bridge. { e} this was a low thatched cottage on the st. david's road, half-way up keeston hill. a few years ago it was demolished, and a new and more commodious building known as the hill arms erected on its site. { f} the old inn was kept by the blind woman, whose name was mrs. lloyd. many stories are related of her wonderful cleverness in managing her business, and it is said that no customer was ever able to cheat her with a bad coin. her blindness was the result of an attack of small-pox when twelve years of age. { g} dr. knapp's insertion. { h} it is doubtful if there was a chapel; no one remembers it. { a} nanny dallas is a mistake. no such name is remembered by the oldest inhabitants, and it seems certain that the woman borrow met was nanny lawless, who lived at simpson a short distance away. { b} evan rees, of summerhill (a mile south-east of roch). { c} sger-las and sger-ddu, two isolated rocky islets off solva harbour. the headlands are the numerous prominences which jut out along the north shore of st. bride's bay. { d} newgale bridge. { e} jemmy raymond. "remaunt" is the local pronunciation. jemmy and his ass appear to have been two well-known figures in roch thirty or forty years ago; the former died about the year . { f} pen-y-cwm. { g} davies the carpenter was undoubtedly the man; he was noted for his stature. dim-yn-clywed--deaf. { } "athenaeum," th april, . { } a. egmont hake. { a} whitwell elwin. { b} t. watts-dunton. { c} f. hindes groome. { d} t. watts-dunton. { e} _ibid_. { f} a. egmont hake. { g} _ibid_. { } t. watts-dunton. { } thomas seccombe: "everyman" edition of "lavengro." { } methuen & co. prose and verse of george henry borrow*** transcribed from the richard clay and sons edition by david price, email ccx @pglaf.org [picture: manuscript of lord's prayer in romany] a bibliography of the writings in prose and verse of george henry borrow by thomas j. wise london: printed for private circulation only by richard clay & sons, ltd. of this book one hundred copies only have been printed. preface the object of the present bibliography is to give a concise account, accompanied by accurate collations, of the original editions of the books and pamphlets of george borrow, together with a list of his many contributions to magazines and other publications. it will doubtless be observed that no inconsiderable portion of the bibliography deals with the attractive series of pamphlets containing ballads, poems, and other works by borrow which were printed for private circulation during the course of last year. some account of the origin of these pamphlets, and some information regarding the material of which they are composed, may not be considered as inopportune or inappropriate. as a writer of english prose borrow long since achieved the position which was his due; as a writer of english verse he has yet to come by his own. the neglect from which borrow's poetical compositions (by far the larger proportion of which are translations from the danish and other tongues) have suffered has arisen from one cause, and from one cause alone,--the fact that up to the present moment only his earliest and, in the majority of cases, his least successful efforts have been available to students of his work. in , when borrow passed his _romantic ballads_ through the press, he had already acquired a working knowledge of numerous languages and dialects, but of his native tongue he had still to become a master. in his appreciation of the requirements of english prosody was of a vague description, his sense of the rhythm of verse was crude, and the attention he paid to the exigencies of rhyme was inadequate. hence the majority of his ballads, beyond the fact that they were faithful reproductions of the originals from which they had been laboriously translated, were of no particular value. but to borrow himself they were objects of a regard which amounted to affection, and there can be no question that throughout a considerable portion of his adventurous life he looked to his ballads to win for him whatever measure of literary fame it might eventually be his fortune to gain. in _lavengro_, and other of his prose works, he repeatedly referred to his "bundle of ballads"; and i doubt whether he ever really relinquished all hope of placing them before the public until the last decade of his life had well advanced. that the ballad poetry of the old northern races should have held a strong attraction for borrow is not to be wondered at. his restless nature and his roving habits were well in tune with the spirit of the old heroic ballads; whilst his taste for all that was mythical or vagabond (vagabond in the literal, and not in the conventional, sense of the word) would prompt him to welcome with no common eagerness the old poems dealing with matters supernatural and legendary. has he not himself recorded how, when fatigued upon a tiring march, he roused his flagging spirits by shouting the refrain "_look out_, _look out_, _svend vonved_!"? in , three years after the _romantic ballads_ had struggled into existence, borrow made an effort to place them before a larger public in a more complete and imposing form. in collaboration with dr. (afterwards sir john) bowring he projected a work which should contain the best of his old ballads, together with many new ones, the whole to be supported by the addition of others from the pen of dr. bowring. { a} a prospectus was drawn up and issued in december, , and at least two examples of this prospectus have survived. the brochure consists of two octavo pages of letterpress, with the following heading:-- prospectus. _it is proposed to publish_, _in two volumes octavo_, price to subscribers pound _s._, to non-subscribers pound _s._, the songs of scandinavia, translated by dr. bowring and mr. borrow. dedicated to the king of denmark, by permission of his majesty. then came a brief synopsis of the contents of the volumes, followed by a short address on "the debt of justice due from england to scandinavia." two additional pages were headed _list of subscribers_, and were left blank for the reception of names which, alas! were recorded in no sufficient number. the scheme lapsed, borrow found his mission in other fields of labour, and not until did he again attempt to revive it. but in borrow made one more very serious effort to give his ballads life. in that year he again took them in hand, subjected many of them to revision of the most drastic nature, and proceeded to prepare them finally for press. advertisements which he drew up are still extant in his handwriting, and reduced facsimiles of two of these may be seen upon the opposite page. but again fate was against him, and neither _koempe viser_ nor _songs of europe_ ever saw the light. { b} [picture: manuscript of the koempe viser and songs of europe advertisement] after the death of borrow his manuscripts passed into the possession of his step-daughter, mrs. macoubrey, from whom the greater part were purchased by mr. webber, a bookseller of ipswich, who resold them to dr. william knapp. these manuscripts are now in the hands of the hispanic society, of new york, and will doubtless remain for ever the property of the american people. fortunately, when disposing of the bulk of her step-father's books and papers to mr. webber, mrs. macoubrey retained the manuscripts of the ballads, together with certain other documents of interest and importance. it was from these manuscripts that i was afforded the opportunity of preparing the series of pamphlets printed last year. the manuscripts themselves are of four descriptions. firstly, the manuscripts of certain of the new ballads prepared for the _songs of scandinavia_ in , untouched, and as originally written; { c} secondly, other of these new ballads, heavily corrected by borrow in a later handwriting; thirdly, fresh transcripts, with the revised texts, made in or about , of ballads written in ; and lastly some of the more important ballads originally published in , entirely re-written in , and the text thoroughly revised. as will be seen from the few examples i have given in the following pages, or better still from a perusal of the pamphlets, the value as literature of borrow's ballads as we now know them is immeasurably higher than that hitherto placed upon them by critics who had no material upon which to form their judgment beyond the _romantic ballads_, _targum_, and _the talisman_, together with the sets of minor verses included in his other books. borrow himself regarded his work in this field as superior to that of lockhart, and indeed seems to have believed that one cause at least of his inability to obtain a hearing was lockhart's jealousy for his own _spanish ballads_. be that as it may--and lockhart was certainly sufficiently small-minded to render such a suspicion by no means ridiculous or absurd--i feel assured that borrow's metrical work will in future receive a far more cordial welcome from his readers, and will meet with a fuller appreciation from his critics, than that which until now it has been its fortune to secure. despite the unctuous phrases which, in obedience to the promptings of the secretaries of the british and foreign bible society { d} whose interests he forwarded with so much enterprise and vigor, he was at times constrained to introduce into his official letters, borrow was at heart a pagan. the memory of his father that he cherished most warmly was that of the latter's fight, actual or mythical, with 'big ben brain,' the bruiser; whilst the sword his father had used in action was one of his best-regarded possessions. to that sword he addressed the following youthful stanzas, which until now have remained un-printed: the sword _full twenty fights my father saw_, _and died with twenty red wounds gored_; _i heir'd what he so loved to draw_, _his ancient silver-handled sword_. _it is a sword of weight and length_, _of jags and blood-specks nobly full_; _well wielded by his cornish strength_ _it clove the gaulman's helm and scull_. _hurrah_! _thou silver-handled blade_, _though thou'st but little of the air_ _of swords by cornets worn on p'rade_, _to battle thee i vow to bear_. _thou'st decked old chiefs of cornwall's land_, _to face the fiend with thee they dared_; _thou prov'dst a tirfing in their hand_ _which victory gave whene'er_ '_twas bared_. _though cornwall's moors_ '_twas ne'er my lot_ _to view_, _in eastern anglia born_, _yet i her son's rude strength have got_, _and feel of death their fearless scorn_. _and when the foe we have in ken_, _and with my troop i seek the fray_, _thou'lt find the youth who wields thee then_ _will ne'er the part of horace play_. _meanwhile above my bed's head hang_, _may no vile rust thy sides bestain_; _and soon_, _full soon_, _the war-trump's clang_ _call me and thee to glory's plain_. these stanzas are interesting in a way which compels one to welcome them, despite the poverty of the verse. the little poem is a fragment of autobiographical _juvenilia_, and moreover it is an original composition, and not a translation, as is the greater part of borrow's poetical work. up to the present date no complete collected edition of borrow's works has been published, either in this country or in america. there is, however, good reason for hoping that this omission will soon be remedied, for such an edition is now in contemplation, to be produced under the agreeable editorship of mr. clement shorter. it is, i presume, hardly necessary to note that every book, pamphlet, and magazine dealt with in the following pages has been described _de visu_. t. j. w. contents part i.--editiones principes page _preface_ ix celebrated trials, faustus, romantic ballads, : _first issue_ _second issue_ _third issue_ targum, the talisman, the gospel of st. luke, the zincali, the bible in spain, review of ford's "hand-book for travellers in spain," a supplementary chapter to "the bible in spain," lavengro, the romany rye, the sleeping bard, wild wales, romano lavo-lil, the turkish jester, the death of balder, letters to the british and foreign bible society, letters to his wife, mary borrow, marsk stig, a ballad, the serpent knight, and other ballads, the king's wake, and other ballads, the dalby bear, and other ballads, the mermaid's prophecy, and other songs relating to queen dagmar, hafbur and signe, a ballad, the story of yvashka with the bear's ear, the verner raven, the count of vendel's daughter, and other ballads, the return of the dead, and other ballads, axel thordson and fair valborg, king hacon's death, and bran and the black dog, marsk stig's daughters, and other songs and ballads, the tale of brynild, and king valdemar and his sister, proud signild, and other ballads, ulf van yern, and other ballads, ellen of villenskov, and other ballads, the songs of ranild, niels ebbesen and germand gladenswayne, child maidelvold, and other ballads, ermeline, a ballad, the giant of bern and orm ungerswayne, little engel, a ballad, alf the freebooter, little danneved and swayne trost, and other ballads, king diderik and the fight between the lion and dragon, and other ballads, the nightingale, the valkyrie and raven, and other ballads, grimmer and kamper, the end of sivard snarenswayne, and other ballads, the fountain of maribo, and other ballads, queen berngerd, the bard and the dreams, and other ballads, finnish arts, or, sir thor and damsel thure, brown william, the power of the harp, and other ballads, the song of deirdra, king byrge and his brothers, and other ballads, signelil, a tale from the cornish, and other ballads, young swaigder or the force of runes, and other ballads, emelian the fool, the story of tim, mollie charane, and other ballads, grimhild's vengeance, three ballads, letters to his mother, ann borrow, the brother avenged, and other ballads, the gold horns, tord of hafsborough, and other ballads, the expedition to birting's land, and other ballads, part ii. contributions to periodical literature, etc. part iii. borroviana: complete volumes of biography and criticism part i. editiones principes, etc. ( ) [celebrated trials: ] celebrated trials, / and / remarkable cases / of / criminal jurisprudence, / from / the earliest records / to / the year . / [_thirteen-line quotation from burke_] / in six volumes. / vol. i. [_vol. ii_, _&c._] / london: / printed for knight and lacey, / paternoster-row. / . / price pounds _s._ in boards. collation:--demy octavo. vol. i. pp. xiii + v + , with nine engraved plates. vol. ii. ,, vi + , with seven engraved plates. [p. is misnumbered .] vol. iii. ,, vi + , with three engraved plates. vol. iv. ,, vi + , with five engraved plates. vol. v. ,, vi + , with five engraved plates. vol. vi. ,, viii + + an _index_ of pages, together with six engraved plates. issued in drab paper boards, with white paper back-labels. the leaves measure . x inches. it is evident that no fewer than five different printing houses were employed simultaneously in the production of this work. the preliminary matter of all six volumes was printed together, and the reverse of each title-page carries at foot the following imprint: "_london_: / _shackell and arrowsmith_, _johnson's-court_, _fleet-street_." the same firm also worked the whole of the second volume, and their imprint is repeated at the foot of p. [misnumbered ]. vol. i bears, at the foot of p. , the following imprint: "_printed by w. lewis_, , _finch-lane_, _cornhill_." vol. iii bears, at the foot of p. , the following imprint: "_j. and c. adlard_, _printers_, / _bartholomew close_." vols. iv and vi bear, at the foot of pages and respectively, the following imprint: "_d. sidney & co._, _printers_ / _northumberland-street_, _strand_." vol. v bears, at the foot of p. , the following imprint: "_whiting and branston_, / _beaufort house_, _strand_." both dr. knapp and mr. clement shorter have recorded full particulars of the genesis of the _celebrated trials_. mr. shorter devotes a considerable portion of chapter xi of _george borrow and his circle_ to the subject, and furnishes an analysis of the contents of each of the six volumes. _celebrated trials_ is, of course, the _newgate lives and trials_ of _lavengro_, in which book borrow contrived to make a considerable amount of entertaining narrative out of his early struggles and failures. there is a copy of the first edition of _celebrated trials_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is .g. . ( ) [faustus: ] faustus: / his / life, death, / and / descent into hell. / translated from the german. / _speed thee_, _speed thee_, / _liberty lead thee_, / _many this night shall harken and heed thee_. / _far abroad_, / _demi-god_, / _who shall appal thee_! / _javal_, _or devil_, _or what else we call thee_. / hymn to the devil. / london: / w. simpkin and r. marshall. / . [picture: title page of fautus, ] collation:--foolscap octavo, pp. xii + ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_printed by_ / _j. and c. adlard_, _bartholomew close_" at the foot of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; preface (headed _the translator to the public_) pp. v-viii; table of _contents_ pp. ix-xii; and text pp. - . the reverse of p. is occupied by advertisements of horace welby's _signs before death_, and john timbs's _picturesque promenade round dorking_. the headline is _faustus_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. at the foot of the reverse of p. the imprint is repeated thus, "_j. and c. adlard_, _bartholomew close_." the signatures are a ( leaves), b to q ( sheets, each leaves), plus r ( leaves). issued (in _april_, ) in bright claret-coloured linen boards, with white paper back-label. the leaves measure . x . inches. the published price was _s._ _d._ the volume has as _frontispiece_ a coloured plate, engraved upon copper, representing the supper of the sheep-headed magistrates, described on pp. - . the incident selected for illustration is the moment when the wine 'issued in blue flames from the flasks,' and 'the whole assembly sat like so many ridiculous characters in a mad masquerade.' this illustration was not new to borrow's book. it had appeared both in the german original, and in the french translation of . in the original work the persons so bitterly satirized were the individuals composing the corporation of frankfort. in 'remainder' copies of the first edition of _faustus_ were issued with a new title-page, pasted upon a stub, carrying at foot the following publishers' imprint, "_london_: / _simpkin_, _marshall & co._ / ." they were made up in bright claret-coloured linen boards, uniform with the original issue, with a white paper back-label. the published price was again _s._ _d._ _faustus_ was translated by borrow from the german of friedrich maximilian von klinger. mr. shorter suggests, with much reason, that borrow did not make his translation from the original german edition of , but from a french translation published in amsterdam in . the reception accorded to _faustus_ was the reverse of favourable. _the literary gazette_ said (_july_ _th_, ):-- "this is another work to which no respectable publisher ought to have allowed his name to be put. the political allusion and metaphysics, which may have made it popular among a low class in germany, do not sufficiently season its lewd scenes and coarse descriptions for british palates. we have occasionally publications for the fireside,--these are only fit for the fire." borrow's translation of klinger's novel was reprinted in , without any acknowledgment of the name of the translator. only a few stray words in the text were altered. but five passages were deleted from the preface, which, not being otherwise modified or supplemented, gave--as was no doubt the intention of the publishers--the work the appearance of a new translation specially prepared. this unhallowed edition bears the following title-page: _faustus_: / _his_ / _life_, _death_, _and doom_. / _a romance in prose_. / _translated from the german_. / [quotation as in the original edition, followed by a printer's ornament.] / _london_: / _w. kent and co._, _paternoster row_. / .--crown vo, pp. viii + . "there is no reason to suppose," remarks mr. shorter (_george borrow and his circle_, p. ) "that the individual, whoever he may have been, who prepared the edition of _faustus_ for the press, had ever seen either the german original or the french translation of klinger's book." there is a copy of the first edition of _faustus_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is n. . [picture: title page of romantic ballads] ( ) [romantic ballads: ] romantic ballads, / translated from the danish; / and / miscellaneous pieces; / by / george borrow. / _through gloomy paths unknown_-- / _paths which untrodden be_, / _from rock to rock i roam_ / _along the dashing sea_. / bowring. / norwich: / printed and published by s. wilkin, upper haymarket. / . collation:--demy octavo, pp. xii + ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_norwich_: / _printed by s. wilkin_, _upper haymarket_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; table of _contents_ (with blank reverse) pp. v-vi; _preface_ pp. vii-viii; prefatory poem _from allan cunningham to george borrow_ pp. ix-xi, p. xii is blank; text of the _ballads_ pp. - ; and list of subscribers pp. - . the reverse of p. is blank. there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the ballad occupying it. the imprint is repeated at the foot of p. . the signatures are a (a half-sheet of leaves), b (a quarter-sheet of leaves), b to m (eleven sheets, each leaves), and n (a half-sheet of leaves), followed by an unsigned quarter-sheet of leaves carrying the list of subscribers. { } sigs. g and h (pp. - and - ) are cancel-leaves, mounted on stubs, in every copy i have met with. issued (in _may_ ) in dark greenish-grey paper boards, with white paper back-label, lettered "_romantic_ / _ballads_ / _from the_ / _danish by_ / _g. borrow_ / _price_ / _net_." the leaves measure x . inches. the volume of _romantic ballads_ was printed at norwich during the early months of . the edition consisted of five hundred copies, but only two hundred of these were furnished with the title-page transcribed above. these were duly distributed to the subscribers. the remaining three hundred copies were forwarded to london, where they were supplied with the two successive title-pages described below, and published in the ordinary manner. "_i had an idea that_, _provided i could persuade any spirited publisher to give these translations to the world_, _i should acquire both considerable fame and profit_;_ not perhaps a world-embracing fame such as byron's_, _but a fame not to be sneered at_, _which would last me a considerable time_, _and would keep my heart from breaking_;--_profit_, _not equal to that which scott had made by his wondrous novels_, _but which would prevent me from starving_, _and enable me to achieve some other literary enterprise_. _i read and re-read my ballads_, _and the more i read them the more i was convinced that the public_, _in the event of their being published_, _would freely purchase_, _and hail them with merited applause_"--["george borrow and his circle," , p. .] allan cunningham's appreciation of the manner in which borrow had succeeded in his effort to introduce the danish ballads to english readers is well expressed in the following letter: , _lower belgrave place_, _london_. _th_ _may_, . _my dear sir_, _i like your danish ballads much_, _and though oehlenslaeger seems a capital poet_, _i love the old rhymes best_. _there is more truth and simplicity in them_;_ and certainly we have nothing in our language to compare with them_. . . . '_sir john_' _is a capital fellow_, _and reminds one of burns'_ '_findlay_.' '_sir middel_' _is very natural and affecting_, _and exceedingly well rendered_,--_so is_ '_the spectre of hydebee_.' _in this you have kept up the true tone of the northern ballad_. '_svend vonved_' _is wild and poetical_, _and it is my favourite_. _you must not think me insensible to the merits of the incomparable_ '_skimming_.' _i think i hear his neigh_, _and see him crush the ribs of the jute_. _get out of bed_, _therefore_, _george borrow_, _and be sick or sleepy no longer_. _a fellow who can give us such exquisite danish ballads has no right to repose_. . . . _i remain_, _your very faithful friend_, _allan cunningham_. _contents_. page. introductory verses. by allan cunningham. [_sing_, ix _sing_, _my friend_; _breathe life again_] the death-raven. [_the silken sail_, _which caught the summer breeze_] i give herewith a reduced facsimile of the first page of the original manuscript of this ballad. no other ms. of it is known to be extant. fridleif and helga. [_the woods were in leaf_, _and they cast a sweet shade_] sir middel. [_so tightly was swanelil lacing her vest_] previously printed (under the title _skion middel_, the first line reading, "_the maiden was lacing so tightly her vest_,") in _the monthly magazine_, _november_ , p. . apart from the opening line, the text of the two versions (with the exception of a few trifling verbal changes) is identical. another, but widely different, version of this ballad is printed in _child maidelvold and other ballads_, , pp. - . in this latter version the name of the heroine is sidselil in place of swanelil, and that of the hero is child maidelvold in place of sir middel. elvir-shades. [_a sultry eve pursu'd a sultry day_] considerable differences are to be observed between the text of the manuscript of _elvir-shades_ and that of the printed version. for example, as printed the second stanza reads: _i spurr'd my courser_, _and more swiftly rode_, _in moody silence_, _through the forests green_, _where doves and linnets had their lone abode_. in the manuscript it reads: _immers'd in pleasing pensiveness i rode_ _down vistas dim_, _and glades of forest green_, _where doves and nightingales had their abode_. the heddybee-spectre. [_i clomb in haste my dappled steed_] in borrow discarded his original ( ) version of _the heddybee-spectre_, and made an entirely new translation. this was written in couplets, with a refrain repeated after each. in the latter version was revised, and represents the final text. it commences thus: _at evening fall i chanced to ride_, _my courser to a tree i tied_. _so wide thereof the story goes_. _against a stump my head i laid_, _and then to slumber i essay'd_ _so wide thereof the story goes_. from the manuscript of the ballad was printed (under the amended title _the heddeby spectre_) in _signelil_, _a tale from the cornish_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . borrow afterwards described the present early version as 'a paraphrase.' sir john. [_sir lave to the island stray'd_] there is extant a manuscript of _sir john_ which apparently belongs to an earlier date than . the text differs considerably from that of the _romantic ballads_. i give a few stanzas of each. . _the servants led her then to bed_, _but could not loose her girdle red_! "_i can_, _perhaps_," _said john_. _he shut the door with all his might_; _he lock'd it fast_, _and quench'd the light_: "_i shall sleep here_," _said john_. _a servant to sir lave hied_:-- "_sir john is sleeping with the bride_:" "_aye_, _that i am_," _said john_. _sir lave to the chamber flew_: "_arise_, _and straight the door undo_!" "_a likely thing_!" _said john_. _he struck with shield_, _he struck with spear_-- "_come out_, _thou dog_, _and fight me here_!" "_another time_," _said john_. _early ms._ _they carried the bride to the bridal bed_, _but to loose her girdle ne'er entered their head_-- "_be that my care_," _said john_. _sir john locked the door as fast as he might_: "_i wish sir lave a very good night_, _i shall sleep here_," _said john_. _a messenger to sir lave hied_: "_sir john is sleeping with thy young bride_!" "_aye_, _that i am_!" _said john_. _on the door sir lave struck with his glove_: "_arise_, _sir john_, _let me in to my love_!" "_stand out_, _you dog_!" _said john_. _he struck on the door with shield and spear_: "_come out_, _sir john_, _and fight me here_!" "_see if i do_!" _said john_. may asda. [_may asda is gone to the merry green wood_] aager and eliza. [_have ye heard of bold sir aager_] saint oluf. [_st. oluf was a mighty king_] _of saint oluf_ there are three mss. extant, the first written in , the second in , and the third in . in the two later mss. the title given to the ballad is _saint oluf and the trolds_. as the latest ms. affords the final text of the poem, i give a few of the variants between it and the printed version of . _st. oluf built a lofty ship_, _with sails of silk so fair_; "_to hornelummer i must go_, _and see what's passing there_." "_o do not go_," _the seamen said_, "_to yonder fatal ground_, _where savage jutts_, _and wicked elves_, _and demon sprites_, _abound_." _st. oluf climb'd the vessel's side_; _his courage nought could tame_! "_heave up_, _heave up the anchor straight_; _let's go in jesu's name_. "_the cross shall be my faulchion now_-- _the book of god my shield_; _and_, _arm'd with them_, _i hope and trust_ _to make the demons yield_!" _and swift_, _as eagle cleaves the sky_, _the gallant vessel flew_, _direct for hornelummer's rock_, _through ocean's wavy blue_. '_twas early in the morning tide_ _when she cast anchor there_; _and_, _lo_! _the jutt stood on the cliff_, _to breathe the morning air_: _his eyes were like the burning beal_-- _his mouth was all awry_; _the truth i tell_, _and say he stood_ _full twenty cubits high_. * * * * * "_be still_, _be still_, _thou noisy guest_-- _be still for evermore_; _become a rock and beetle there_, _above the billows hoar_." _up started then_, _from out the hill_, _the demon's hoary wife_; _she curs'd the king a thousand times_, _and brandish'd high her knife_. _sore wonder'd then the little elves_, _who sat within the hill_, _to see their mother_, _all at once_, _stand likewise stiff and still_. . _saint oluf caused a ship be built_, _at marsirand so fair_; _to hornelummer he'll away_, _and see what's passing there_. _then answer made the steersman old_, _beside the helm who stood_: "_at hornelummer swarm the trolas_, _it is no haven good_." _the king replied in gallant guise_, _and sprang upon the prow_: "_upon the ox { } the cable cast_, _in jesu's name let go_!" _the ox he pants_, _the ox he snorts_, _and bravely cuts the swell_-- _to hornelummer in they sail_ _the ugly trolds to quell_. _the jutt was standing on the cliff_, _which raises high its brow_; _and thence he saw saint oluf_, _and_ _the ox beneath him go_. _his eyes were like a burning beal_, _his mouth was all awry_, _the nails which feve'd his fingers' ends_ _stuck out so wondrously_. "_now hold thy peace_, _thou foulest fiend_, _and changed be to stone_; _do thou stand there_ '_till day of doom_, _and injury do to none_." _then out came running from the hill_ _the carline old and grey_; _she cursed the king a thousand times_, _and bade him sail away_. _then wondered much the little trolds_, _who sat within the hill_, _to see their mother all at once_ _stand likewise stiff and still_. the entire ballad should be compared with _king oluf the saint_, printed in _queen berngerd_, _the bard and the dreams_, _and other ballads_, , pp - . the heroes of dovrefeld. [_on dovrefeld_, _in norway_] another version of _the heroes of dovrefeld_, written in , is extant in manuscript. unlike that of , which was in four line stanzas, this later version is arranged in couplets, with a refrain repeated after each. it commences as follows: _on dovrefeld in norroway_ _free from care the warriors lay_. _who knows like us to rhyme and rune_? _twelve bold warriors there were seen_, _brothers of ingeborg the queen_. _who knows like us to rhyme and rune_? _the first the rushing storm could turn_, _the second could still the running burn_. _who knows like us to rhyme and rune_? svend vonved. [_svend vonved sits in his lonely bower_] in a manuscript of the name employed is _swayne vonved_. there is no manuscript of this ballad. the tournament. [_six score there were_, _six score and ten_] _the tournament_ was one of the ballads entirely rewritten by borrow in for inclusion in the then projected _koempe viser_. the text of the later version differed greatly from that of , as the following extracts will show: . _six score there were_, _six score and ten_, _from hald that rode that day_; _and when they came to brattingsborg_ _they pitch'd their pavilion gay_. _king nilaus stood on the turrets top_, _had all around in sight_: "_why hold those heroes their lives so cheap_, _that it lists them here to fight_? "_now_, _hear me_, _sivard snaresvend_; _far hast thou rov'd_, _and wide_, _those warriors' weapons thou shalt prove_, _to their tent thou must straightway ride_." * * * * * _there shine upon the eighteenth shield_ _a man_, _and a fierce wild boar_, _are borne by the count of lidebierg_; _his blows fall heavy and sore_. _there shines upon the twentieth shield_, _among branches_, _a rose_, _so gay_; _wherever sir nordman comes in war_, _he bears bright honour away_. _there shines on the one-and-twentieth shield_ _a vase_, _and of copper_ '_tis made_; _that's borne by mogan sir olgerson_: _he wins broad lands with his blade_. _and now comes forth the next good shield_, _with a sun dispelling the mirk_; _and that by asbiorn milde is borne_; _he sets the knights' backs at work_. _now comes the four-and-twentieth shield_, _and a bright sword there you see_; _and that by humble sir jerfing is borne_; _full worthy of that is he_. * * * * * _sir humble struck his hand on the board_; _no longer he lists to play_: _i tell you_, _forsooth_, _that the rosy hue_ _from his cheek fast faded away_. "_now_, _hear me_, _vidrik verlandson_; _thou art so free a man_; _do lend me skimming_, _thy horse_, _this day_; _i'll pledge for him what i can_." * * * * * _in came humble_, _with boot and spur_, _he cast on the table his sword_: "_sivard stands in the green wood bound_, _he speaks not a single word_. "_o_, _i have been to the wild forest_, _and have seiz'd the warrior stark_; _sivard there was taken by me_, _and tied to the oak's rough bark_." * * * * * _the queen she sat in the high_, _high loft_, _and thence look'd far and wide_: "_o there comes sward snaresvend_, _with a stately oak at his side_." _then loud laugh'd fair queen gloriant_, _as she looked on sivard full_: "_thou wert_, _no doubt_, _in great_, _great need_, _when thou such flowers didst pull_." . _there were seven and seven times twenty_ _away from hald that went_; _and when they came to brattingsborg_ _there pitch'd they up their tent_. _king nilaus stood on the turret's top_, _had all around in sight_: "_if yonder host comes here to joust_ _they hold their lives but light_. "_now_, _hear me_, _sivard snarenswayne_, _one thing i crave of thee_; _to meet them go_, _for i would know_ _their arms_, _and who they be_." * * * * * _there shine upon the eighteenth shield_ _a giant and a sow_; _who deals worse blows amidst his foes_, _count lideberg_, _than thou_? _wherever sir nordman comes in war_ _he winneth fame in field_; _yon blooming rose and verdant boughs_ _adorn the twentieth shield_. _a copper kettle_, _fairly wrought_, _upon the next you see_; '_tis borne by one who realms has won_, _sir mogan good_, _by thee_! _forth comes the two-and-twentieth shield_, _a sun mid mist and smoke_; _of wrestler line full many a spine_ _has asborn milday broke_. _a glittering faulchion shines upon_ _the four-and-twentieth shield_; _and that doth bear sir jerfing's heir_, _he's worthy it to wield_. * * * * * _young humble struck his hand on the board_, _no longer he lists to play_; _i tell to you that the rosy hue_ _from his cheek fast fled away_. "_now hear me_, _vidrik verlandson_, _thou art a man so free_; _lend me thy horse to ride this course_, _grey skimming lend to me_." * * * * * _in came humble_, _with boot and spur_, _on the table cast his sword_: "_'neath the green-wood bough stands sivard now_, _he speaketh not a word_. "_o_, _i have been to the forest wild_, _and have seiz'd the warrior good_: _these hands did chain the snarenswayne_ _to the oak's bark in the wood_." * * * * * _the queen she sat in the chamber high_, _and thence look'd far and wide_: "_across the plain comes the snarenswayne_, _with an oak-tree at his side_." _then loud laughed fair queen ellinore_, _as she looked on sivard full_: "_thou wast_, _i guess_, _in sore distress_ _when thou such flowers didst pull_!" a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of the version of _the tournament_ will be found herewith, facing page . vidrik verlandson. [_king diderik sits in the halls of bern_] _vidrik verlandson_ was another of the ballads entirely re-written by borrow in for the proposed _koempe viser_. the text of the later version differed extremely from that of , as the following examples will shew: . "_a handsome smith my father was_, _and verland hight was he_: _bodild they call'd my mother fair_; _queen over countries three_: "_skimming i call my noble steed_, _begot from the wild sea-mare_: _blank do i call my haughty helm_, _because it glitters so fair_: "_skrepping i call my good thick shield_; _steel shafts have furrow'd it o'er_: _mimmering have i nam'd my sword_; '_tis hardened in heroes' gore_: "_and i am vidrik verlandson_: _for clothes bright iron i wear_: _stand'st thou not up on thy long_, _long legs_, _i'll pin thee down to thy lair_: "_do thou stand up on thy long_, _long legs_, _nor look so dogged and grim_; _the king holds out before the wood_; _thou shall yield thy treasure to him_." "_all_, _all the gold that i possess_, _i will keep with great renown_; _i'll yield it at no little horse-boy's word_, _to the best king wearing a crown_." "_so young and little as here i seem_, _thou shalt find me prompt in a fray_; _i'll hew the head from thy shoulders off_, _and thy much gold bear away_." * * * * * _it was langben the lofty jutt_, _he wav'd his steel mace round_; _he sent a blow after vidrik_; _but the mace struck deep in the ground_. _it was langben the lofty jutt_, _who had thought his foeman to slay_, _but the blow fell short of vidrik_; _for the good horse bore him away_. _it was langben the lofty jutt_, _that shouted in wild despair_: "_now lies my mace in the hillock fast_, _as though_ '_twere hammered in there_!" * * * * * "_accursed be thou_, _young vidrik_! _and accursed thy piercing steel_! _thou hast given me_, _see_, _a wound in my breast_, _whence rise the pains i feel_." * * * * * "_now hear_, _now hear_, _thou warrior youth_, _thou canst wheel thy courser about_; _but in every feat of manly strength_ _i could beat thee out and out_." . "_my father was a smith by trade_, _and verland smith he hight_; _bodild they call'd my mother dear_, _a monarch's daughter bright_. "_blank do i call my helm_, _thereon_ _full many a sword has snapped_; _skrepping i call my shield_, _thereon_ _full many a shaft has rapped_. "_skimming i call my steed_, _begot_ _from the wild mare of the wood_; _mimmering have i named my sword_, '_tis hardened in heroes' blood_. "_and i am viderik verlandson_, _bright steel for clothes i wear_; _stand up on thy long legs_, _or i_ _will pin thee to thy lair_! "_stand up on thy long legs_, _nor look_ _so dogged and so grim_; _the king doth hold before the wood_, _thy treasure yield to him_!" "_whatever gold i here possess_ _i'll keep_, _like a kemp of worth_; _i'll yield it at no horseboy's word_ _to any king on earth_!" "_so young and little as i seem_ _i'm active in a fray_; _i'll hew thy head_, _thou lubbard_, _off_, _and bear thy gold away_!" * * * * * _it was langben the giant waved_ _his steely mace around_; _he sent a blow at vidrik_, _but_ _the mace struck deep in the ground_. _it was langben_, _the lofty jutt_, _had thought his foe to slay_; _but the blow fell short_, _for the speedy horse_ _his master bore away_. _it was langben_, _the lofty jutt_, _he bellow'd to the heaven_: "_my mace is tight within the height_, _as though by a hammer driven_!" * * * * * _accurs'd be thou_, _young vidrik_! _accursed be thy steel_! _thou'st given me a mighty wound_, _and mighty pain i feel_. * * * * * "_now hear_, _now hear_, _thou warrior youth_, _thou well canst wheel thy steed_; _but i could beat thee out and out_ _in every manly deed_." in _romantic ballads_, and also in the manuscript of , this ballad is entitled _vidrik verlandson_. in the manuscript of it is entitled _vidrik verlandson's conflict with the giant langben_. the text of this manuscript is intermediate between that of the other two versions. a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of the version of _vidrik verlandson_ is given herewith, facing p. . elvir hill. [_i rested my head upon elvir hill's side_, _and my eyes were beginning to slumber_] in the manuscript of this ballad is entitled _elfin hill_, and the text differs considerably from that printed in . i give the opening stanzas of each version. . _i rested my head upon elvir hill's side_, _and my eyes were beginning to slumber_; _that moment there rose up before me two maids_, _whose charms would take ages to number_. _one patted my face_, _and the other exclaim'd_, _while loading my cheek with her kisses_, "_rise_, _rise_, _for to dance with you here we have sped from the undermost caves and abysses_. "_rise_, _fair-haired swain_, _and refuse not to dance_;_ and i and my sister will sing thee_ _the loveliest ditties that ever were heard_, _and the prettiest presents will bring thee_." _then both of them sang so delightful a song_, _that the boisterous river before us_ _stood suddenly quiet and placid_, _as though_ '_twere afraid to disturb the sweet chorus_. . _i rested my head upon elfin hill_, _on mine eyes was slumber descending_; _that moment there rose up before me two maids_, _with me to discourse intending_. _the one kissed me on my cheek so white_, _the other she whispered mine ear in_: "_arise_, _arise_, _thou beautiful swain_! _for thou our dance must share in_. "_wake up_, _wake up_, _thou beautiful swain_! _rise and dance_ '_mongst the verdant grasses_; _and to sing thee the sweetest of their songs i'll bid my elfin lasses_." _to sing a song then one began_, _in voice so sweet and mellow_, _the boisterous stream was still'd thereby_, _that before was wont to bellow_. waldemar's chase. [_late at eve they were toiling on harribee bank_] previously printed in _the monthly magazine_, _august_ , p. . the merman. [_do thou_, _dear mother_, _contrive amain_] a later, and greatly improved, version of this ballad was included, under the title _the treacherous merman_, in _the serpent knight and other ballads_, , pp. - . an early draft of this later version bears the title _marsk stig's daughter_. the deceived merman. [_fair agnes alone on the sea-shore stood_] previously printed in _the monthly magazine_, _march_ , pp. - . cantata. [_this is denmark's holyday_] the hail-storm. [_when from our ships we bounded_] _the hail storm_ was reprinted in _targum_, , pp. - , and again in _young swaigder or the force of runes and other ballads_, , pp. - . in each instance very considerable variations were introduced into the text. the elder-witch. [_though tall the oak_, _and firm its stem_] ode. from the gaelic. [_oh restless_, _to night_, _are my slumbers_] bear song. [_the squirrel that's sporting_] previously printed, with some trifling differences in the text, in _the monthly magazine_, _december_, , p. . national song. [_king christian stood beside the mast_] previously printed (under the title "_sea song_; _from the danish of evald_") in _the monthly magazine_, _december_, , p. . the old oak. [_here have i stood_, _the pride of the park_] lines to six-foot three. [_a lad_, _who twenty tongues can talk_] nature's temperaments: . sadness. [_lo_, _a pallid fleecy vapour_] . glee. [_roseate colours on heaven's high arch_] . madness. [_what darkens_, _what darkens_?--'_tis heaven's high roof_] in a revised manuscript of uncertain date, but _c_ - , this poem is entitled _hecla and etna_, the first line reading: "_what darkens_? _it is the wide arch of the sky_." the violet-gatherer. [_pale the moon her light was shedding_] ode to a mountain-torrent. [_how lovely art thou in thy tresses of foam_] previously printed in _the monthly magazine_, _october_, , p. . in _the monthly magazine_ the eighth stanza reads: _o pause for a time_,--_for a short moment stay_; _still art thou streaming_,--_my words are in vain_; _oft-changing winds_, _with tyrannical sway_, _lord there below on the time-serving main_! in romantic ballads it reads: _abandon_, _abandon_, _thy headlong career_-- _but downward thou rushest_--_my words are in vain_, _bethink thee that oft-changing winds domineer_ _on the billowy breast of the time-serving main_. runic verses. [_o the force of runic verses_] thoughts on death. [_perhaps_ '_tis folly_, _but still i feel_] previously printed (under the tentative title _death_, and with some small textual variations) in _the monthly magazine_, _october_, , p. . birds of passage. [_so hot shines the sun upon nile's yellow stream_] the broken harp. [_o thou_, _who_, '_mid the forest trees_] scenes. [_observe ye not yon high cliff's brow_] the suicide's grave. [_the evening shadows fall upon the grave_] note.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. there is at present no copy of the first issue of the first edition of _romantic ballads_, with the original title-page, in the library of the british museum. [picture: manuscript of the death raven] [picture: manuscript of sir john] [picture: manuscript of saint oluf and the trolds] [picture: manuscript of svend vonved-- ] [picture: manuscript of the tournament, ] [picture: manuscript of vidrik verlandson-- ] [picture: manuscript of elvir hill] [picture: manuscript of marsk stig's daughter] second issue: romantic ballads, / translated from the danish; / and / miscellaneous pieces; / by / george borrow. / _through gloomy paths unknown_--/ _paths which untrodden be_, / _from rock to rock i roam_ / _along the dashing sea_. / bowring. / london: / john taylor, waterloo place, pall mall, / . collation:--demy octavo, pp. xii + . the details of the collation follow those of the first issue described above in every particular, save that, naturally, the volume lacks the two concluding leaves carrying the list of subscribers. issued in drab paper boards, with white paper back-label. the published price was seven shillings. "_taylor will undertake to publish the remaining copies_. _his advice is to make the price seven shillings_, _and to print a new title-page_, _and then he will be able to sell some for you i advise the same_," _etc._--[allan cunningham to george borrow.] there is a copy of the second issue of the first edition of _romantic ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is . cc. . _third issue_: romantic ballads, / translated from the danish; / and / miscellaneous pieces; / by / george borrow. / _through gloomy paths unknown_--/ _paths which untrodden be_, / _from rock to rock i roam_ / _along the dashing sea_. / bowring. / london: / published by wightman and cramp, / paternoster row. / . collation:--demy octavo, pp. xii + . the details of the collation follow those of the second issue described above in every particular. issued in drab paper boards, with white paper back-label. the price was again seven shillings. in a type-facsimile reprint of the original edition of _romantic ballads_ was published by messrs. jarrold and sons of norwich. three hundred copies were printed. ( ) [targum: ] targum. / or / metrical translations / from thirty languages / and / dialects. / by / george borrow. / "_the raven has ascended to the nest of the nightingale_." / persian poem. / st. petersburg. / printed by schulz and beneze. / . collation:--demy octavo, printed in half-sheets, pp. viii + ; consisting of: title-page, as above (with a russian quotation upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; _preface_ pp. iii-v; table of _contents_ pp. vi-viii, with a single _erratum_ at the foot of p. viii; and text of the _translations_ pp. - . there are no head-lines, the pages being numbered centrally in arabic numerals. beyond that upon the foot of the title-page, there is no imprint. the signatures are given in large arabic numerals, each pair of half-sheets dividing one number between them; thus the first half-sheet is signed , the second *, the third , the fourth *, &c. the register is therefore to (thirteen half-sheets, each leaves), followed by a single unsigned leaf (pp. - ), the whole preceded by an unsigned half-sheet carrying the title-page, preface, and table of contents. the book was issued without any half-title. issued in plain paper wrappers of a bright green colour, lined with white, and without either lettering or label. the leaves measure / x . inches. borrow was happy in the title he selected for his book. _targum_, as mr. gosse has pointed out, is a chaldee word meaning an interpretation. the word is said to be the root of 'dragoman.' _targum_ was written by borrow during his two years' residence at st. petersburg (august, , to august, ), and was published in june of the latter year. one hundred copies only were printed. as might naturally be expected the book has now become of very considerable rarity, but a small proportion of the original hundred copies being traceable to-day. a reduced facsimile of the title-page is given herewith. "just before completing this great work, the _manchu new testament_, mr. borrow published a small volume in the english language, entitled _targum_, _or metrical translations from thirty languages and dialects_. the exquisite delicacy with which he has caught and rendered the beauties of his well-chosen originals, is a proof of his learning and genius. the work is a pearl in literature, and, like pearls, it derives value from its scarcity, for the whole edition was limited to about a hundred copies."--[_john p. hasfeld_, _in the athenaeum_, _march_ _th_, .] "some days ago i was at kirtof's bookshop on the gaternaya ulitza. i wanted to buy a _bible in spain_ to send to simbirsk (on the volga), where they torment me for it every post-day. the stock was all sold out in a few days after its arrival last autumn. the bookseller asked me if i knew a book by borrow called _targum_, which was understood to have been written by him and printed at st. petersburg, but he had never been able to light upon it; and the surprising thing was that the trade abroad and even in england did him the honour to order it. i consoled him by saying that he could hardly hope to see a copy in his shop or to get a peep at it. 'i have a copy,' continued i, 'but if you will offer me a thousand roubles for the bare reading of it i cannot do you the favour.' the man opened his eyes in astonishment. 'it must be a wonderful book,' said he. 'yes, in that you are right, my good friend,' i replied."--[_john p. hasfeld_.] "after he became famous the russian government was desirous of procuring a copy of this rare book, _targum_, for the imperial library, and sent an envoy to england for the purpose. but the envoy was refused what he sought, and told that as the book was not worth notice when the author's name was obscure and they had the opportunity of obtaining it themselves, they should not have it now."--[_a. egmont hake_, _in the athenaeum_, _august_ _th_, .] _contents_. page ode to god. [_reign'd the universe's master ere were earthly things begun_] borrow reprinted this _ode_ in _the bible in spain_, , vol. iii, p. . prayer. [_o thou who dost know what the heart fain would hide_] death. [_grim death in his shroud swatheth mortals each hour_] stanzas. on a fountain. [_in the fount fell my tears_, _like rain_] stanzas. the pursued. [_how wretched roams the weary wight_] odes. from the persian: . [_boy_, _hand my friends the cup_, '_tis time of roses now_] . [_if shedding lovers' blood thou deem'st a matter slight_] . [_o thou_, _whose equal mind knows no vexation_] stanzas. from the turkish of fezouli. [_o fezouli_, _the hour is near_] description of paradise. [_eight gennets there be_, _as some relate_] o lord! i nothing crave but thee. [_o thou_, _from whom all love doth flow_] mystical poem. relating to the worship of the great foutsa or buddh. [_should i foutsa's force and glory_] moral metaphors: . [_from out the south the genial breezes sigh_] . [_survey_, _survey gi shoi's murmuring flood_!] the mountain-chase. [_autumn has fled and winter left our bounds_] the glory of the cossacks. [_quiet don_!] the black shawl. [_on the shawl_, _the black shawl with distraction i gaze_] song. from the russian of pushkin. [_hoary man_, _hateful man_!] the cossack. an ancient ballad. [_o'er the field the snow is flying_] the three sons of budrys. [_with his three mighty sons_, _tall as ledwin's were once_] the banning of the pest. [_hie away_, _thou horrid monster_!] woinomoinen. [_then the ancient woinomoinen_] the words of beowulf, son of egtheof. [_every one beneath the heaven_] the lay of biarke. [_the day in east is glowing_] the title of this ballad as it appears in the original ms. is _the biarkemal_. the hail-storm. [_for victory as we bounded_] previously printed (but with very considerable variations in the text, the first line reading "_when from our ships we bounded_") in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . a final version of the ballad, written about , was printed in _young swaigder or the force of runes and other ballads_, , pp. - . the king and crown. [_the king who well crown'd does govern the land_] ode to a mountain torrent. [_o stripling immortal thou forth dost career_] previously printed (but with an entirely different text, the first line reading "_how lovely art thou in thy tresses of foam_") in _the monthly magazine_, vol. lvi., , p. . also printed in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . the first stanza of the _ode_ as printed in _targum_ does not figure in the version given in _romantic ballads_, whilst the third stanza of the _romantic ballads_ version is not to be found in _targum_. chloe. [_o we have a sister on earthly dominions_!] previously printed in _the monthly magazine_, vol. lvi, , p. . national song. from the danish of evald. [_king christian stood beside the mast_] previously printed (under the title _sea song_; _from the danish of evald_) in _the monthly magazine_, _december_, , p. . also printed in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - ; and again in _the foreign quarterly review_, vol. vi, _june_, , p. . the four versions of this _song_, as printed in _the monthly magazine_, in _romantic ballads_, in _the foreign quarterly review_, and in _targum_, are utterly different, the opening line being the only one which has approximately the same reading in all. sir sinclair. [_sir sinclair sail'd from the scottish ground_] previously printed in _the foreign quarterly review_, vol. vi, _june_, , p. . hvidfeld. [_our native land has ever teem'd_] birting. a fragment. [_it was late at evening tide_] this "fragment" consists of fifteen stanzas from the ballad _the giant of berne and orm ungerswayne_, which was printed complete, for private circulation, in . [_see post_, no. .] ingeborg's lamentation. [_autumn winds howl_] the delights of finn mac coul. [_finn mac coul_ '_mongst his joys did number_] carolan's lament. [_the arts of greece_, _rome and of eirin's fair earth_] to icolmcill. [_on icolmcill may blessings pour_] the dying bard. [_o for to hear the hunter's tread_] in the original manuscript of this poem the title reads _the wish of the bard_; the text also differs considerably from that which appears in _targum_. the prophecy of taliesin. [_within my mind_] the history of taliesin. [_the head bard's place i hold_] the original manuscript of _the history of taliesin_ possesses many points of interest. in the first place, in addition to sundry variations of text, it enables us to fill up the words in the last line of stanza , and the fourth line of stanza , which in the pages of _targum_ are replaced by asterisks. the full lines read: _where died the almighty's son_, and _have seen the trinity_. in the second place the manuscript contains a stanza, following upon the first, which does not occur in the printed text. this stanza reads as follows: _i with my lord and god_ _on the highest places trod_, _when lucifer down fell_ _with his army into hell_. _i know each little star_ _which twinkles near and far_; _and i know the milky way_ _where i tarried many a day_. a reduced facsimile of the third page of this manuscript will be found herewith, facing page . epigram. on a miser who had built a stately mansion. [_of every pleasure is thy mansion void_] the invitation. [_parry_, _of all my friends the best_] the rising of achilles. [_straightway achilles arose_, _the belov'd of jove_, _round his shoulders_] the meeting of odysses and achilles. [_tow'rds me came the shade of peleidean achilles_] hymn to thetis and neoptolemus. [_of thetis i sing with her locks of gold-shine_] the grave of demos. [_thus old demos spoke_, _as sinking sought the sun the western wave_] the sorceries of canidia. [_father of gods_, _who rul'st the sky_] the french cavalier. [_the french cavalier shall have my praise_] address to sleep. [_sweet death of sense_, _oblivion of ill_] the moormen's march from granada. [_reduan_, _i but lately heard_] the forsaken. [_up i rose_, _o mother_, _early_] stanzas. from the portuguese. [_a fool is he who in the lap_] my eighteenth year. [_where is my eighteenth year_? _far back_] song. from the rommany. [_the strength of the ox_] another version of this _song_, bearing the title "_our heart is heavy_, _brother_," is printed in _marsk stig's daughters and other songs and ballads_, , pp. - . note.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. in _targum_ was reprinted, together with _the talisman_, by messrs. jarrold & sons, of norwich, in an edition of copies. there is a copy of the first edition of _targum_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. .i. . [picture: title page of targum, ] [picture: manuscript of the miarkemal] [picture: manuscript of the history of taliesin] ( ) [the talisman: ] the / talisman. / from the russian / of / alexander pushkin. / with other pieces. / st. petersburg. / printed by schulz and beneze, / . collation:--royal octavo, pp. ; consisting of: title-page, as above (with a russian quotation upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of _the talisman_ and other poems pp. - . there are no head-lines, the pages being numbered centrally in arabic numerals. beyond that upon the title-page there is no imprint. there are also no signatures, the pamphlet being composed of a single sheet, folded to form sixteen pages. the last leaf is a blank. the book was issued without any half-title. issued stitched, and without wrappers. the leaves measure . x . inches. one hundred copies only were printed. a reduced facsimile of the title-page of _the talisman_ is given herewith. it will be observed that the heavy letterpress upon the reverse of the title shows through the paper, and is reproduced in the photograph. _contents_. page the talisman. [_where fierce the surge with awful bellow_] the mermaid. [_close by a lake_, _begirt with forest_] ancient russian songs: . [_the windel-straw nor grass so shook and trembled_] . [_o rustle not_, _ye verdant oaken branches_!] . [_o thou field of my delight so fair and verdant_!] ancient ballad. [_from the wood a sound is gliding_] the renegade. [_now pay ye the heed that is fitting_] note.--the whole of the poems printed in _the talisman_ appeared there for the first time. in messrs. jarrold & sons published page for page reprints of _targum_ and _the talisman_. they were issued together in one volume, bound in light drab-coloured paper boards, with white paper back-label, and were accompanied by the following collective title-page: _targum_: / _or_, / _metrical translations from thirty languages_ / _and dialects_. / _and_ / _the talisman_, / _from the russian of alexander pushkin_. / _with other pieces_. / _by_ / _george borrow_. / _author of_ "_the bible in spain_" _&c._ / _london_: / _jarrold & sons_, , _paternoster buildings_. in a small 'remainder' of _the talisman_ came to light. the 'find' consisted of about five copies, which were sold in the first instance for an equal number of pence. the buyer appears to have resold them at progressive prices, commencing at four pounds and concluding at ten guineas. there is a copy of the first edition of _the talisman_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. .e. . [picture: title page of the talisman, ] ( ) [the gospel of st. luke: ] embeo / e majaro lucas. / brotoboro / randado andre la chipe griega, acana / chibado andre o romano, o chipe es / zincales de sese. / el evangelio segun s. lucas, / traducido al romani, / o dialecto de los gitanos de espana. / . collation:--foolscap octavo, pp. , consisting of: title-page, as above (with borrow's colophon upon the reverse, followed by a quotation from the _epistle to the romans_, chap. xv. v. xxiv.) pp. - ; and text of the gospel pp. - . the reverse of p. is blank. there are no head-lines, the pages being numbered centrally in arabic numerals. there is no printer's imprint. the signatures are a to l ( sheets, each leaves), plus l repeated (two leaves, the second a blank). the book was issued without any half-title. i have never seen a copy of the first edition of borrow's translation into the dialect of the spanish gypsies of the gospel of st. luke in the original binding. no doubt the book (which was printed in madrid) was put up in paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, in accordance with the usual continental custom. most of the copies now extant are either in a modern binding, or in contemporary brown calf, with marbled edges and endpapers. the latter are doubtless the copies sent home by borrow, and bound in leather for that purpose. the leaves of these measure x inches. as will be seen from the following extracts, it is probable that the first edition consisted of copies, and that of these were forwarded to london: "in response to borrow's letter of february th, the committee resolved 'to authorise mr. borrow to print copies of the gospel of st. luke, without the vocabulary, in the rummanee dialect, and to engage the services of a competent person to translate the gospel of st. luke by way of trial in the dialect of the spanish basque.'"--[_letters of george borrow to the british and foreign bible society_, , pp. - .] "a small impression of the gospel of st. luke, in the rommany, or gitano, or gipsy language, has been printed at madrid, under the superintendence of this same gentleman, who himself made the translation for the benefit of the interesting, singular, degraded race of people whose name it bears, and who are very numerous in some parts of spain. he has likewise taken charge of the printing of the gospel of st. luke, in the cantabrian, or spanish basque language, a translation of which had fallen into his hands."--[_thirty-fourth annual report of the british and foreign bible society_, , p. xliii.] "all the testaments were stopped at the custom house, they were contained in two large chests. . . . the chests, therefore, with the hundred gospels in gitano and basque [probably copies of each] for the library of the bible society are at present at san lucar in the custom house, from which i expect to receive to-morrow the receipt which the authorities here demand."--[_borrow's letter to the rev. a. brandram_, _seville_, _may_ _nd_, .] a second edition of the gospel was printed in london in . the collation is duodecimo, pp. . this was followed by a third edition, london, , the collation of which is also duodecimo, pp. . both bear the same imprint: "_london_: / _printed by william clowes and sons_, _stamford street_, / _and charing cross_." for these london editions the text was considerably revised. the gospel of st. luke in the basque dialect, referred to in the above paragraphs, is a small octavo volume bearing the following title-page: _evangelioa_ / _san lucasen guissan_ / _el evangelio segun s. lucas_. / _traducido al vascuence_. / _madrid_: / _imprenta de la campania tipografica_ / . the translation was the work of a basque physician named oteiza, and borrow did little more than see it through the press. the book has, therefore, no claim to rank as a borrow _princeps_. the measure of success which attended his efforts to reproduce the gospel of st. luke in these two dialects is best told in borrow's own words: "i subsequently published the gospel of st. luke in the rommany and biscayan languages. with respect to the first, i beg leave to observe that no work printed in spain ever caused so great and so general a sensation, not so much amongst the gypsies, for whom it was intended, as amongst the spaniards themselves, who, though they look upon the roma with some degree of contempt, nevertheless take a strange interest in all that concerns them. . . . respecting the gospel in basque i have less to say. it was originally translated into the dialect of guipuscoa by dr. oteiza, and subsequently received corrections and alterations from myself. it can scarcely be said to have been published, it having been prohibited and copies of it seized on the second day of its appearance. but it is in my power to state that it is anxiously expected in the basque provinces, where books in the aboriginal tongue are both scarce and dear."--[_borrow's survey of his last two years in spain_, _printed in his letters to the bible society_, , pp. - .] there is a copy of the first edition of _the gospel of st. luke in the dialect of the spanish gypsies_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. .aa. . the museum also possesses a copy of the gospel in the basque dialect; the pressmark is c. .aa. . [picture: title page of embeo e majaro lucas] ( ) [the zincali: ] the zincali; / or, / an account / of the / gypsies of spain. / with / an original collection of their / songs and poetry, / and / a copious dictionary of their language. / by / george borrow, / late agent of the british and foreign bible society / in spain. / "_for that_, _which is unclean by nature_, _thou canst entertain no hope_: _no_ / _washing will turn the gypsy white_."--ferdousi. / in two volumes. / vol. i. [_vol. ii_] / london: / john murray, albemarle street. / . _vol. i_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. xvi + ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_g. woodfall and son_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; dedication _to the right honourable the earl of clarendon_, _g.c.b._ (with blank reverse) pp. v-vi; _preface_ pp. vii-xii; table of _contents_ pp. xiii-xvi; and text pp. - , including a separate fly-title (with blank reverse) to _the zincali_, _part ii_. there are headlines throughout, each verso being headed _the zincali_, whilst each recto carries at its head a note of the particular subject occupying it. the imprint is repeated at the foot of p. . the signatures are a (six leaves), b (two leaves), b to q ( sheets, each leaves), plus r (two leaves). sig. r is a blank. _vol. ii_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. vi + + vi + * ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_g. woodfall and son_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; table of _contents_ pp. v-vi; fly-title to _the zincali_, _part iii_ (with blank reverse) pp. - ; text of _part iii_ (including separate fly-titles, each with blank reverse, to _the praise of buddh_, _on the language of the gitanos_, and _robber language_) pp. - ; fly-title (with blank reverse) to _the zincali_. _vocabulary of their language_ pp. i-ii; _advertisement to the vocabulary_ pp. iii-v; p. vi is blank; text of the _vocabulary_ pp. * -* ; p. * is blank; fly-title (with blank reverse) to _miscellanies in the gitano language_ pp. * -* ; _advertisement_ to the _miscellanies_ p. * ; and text of the _miscellanies_ pp. * -* . the reverse of p. * is blank. there are head-lines throughout, each verso being headed _the zincali_, whilst each recto carries at its head a note of the particular subject occupying it. the imprint is repeated at the foot of p. * . the signatures are a ( leaves), b (one leaf), b to g ( sheets, each leaves), h ( leaves), a ( leaves), b to e ( sheets, each leaves), f ( leaves), and g ( leaves). b , b , and b are cancel-leaves. the last leaf of sig. g is occupied by a series of advertisements of _works just published_ by john murray. issued (in _april_, ) in dark blue cloth boards, with white paper back-label, lettered "_borrow's_ / _gypsies_ / _of_ / _spain_. / _two volumes_. / _vol. i_. [vol. ii.]." the leaves measure . x . inches. the published price was _s._ of the first edition of _the zincali_ seven hundred and fifty copies only were printed. a second edition, to which a new preface was added, was published in _march_, , and a third in _september_, , each of which was restricted to the same number of copies. the fourth edition appeared in , the fifth in , the sixth in , the seventh in , and the eighth in . the book has since been included in various popular editions, and translated into several foreign languages. examples of _the zincali_ may sometimes be met with bearing dates other than those noted above. these are merely copies of the editions specified, furnished with new title-pages. included in the second volume of _the zincali_ is a considerable amount of verse, as follows: page rhymes of the gitanos. [_unto a refuge me they led_] the deluge. part i. [_i with fear and terror quake_] the deluge. part ii. [_when i last did bid farewell_] the pestilence. [_i'm resolved now to tell_] the whole of the above pieces are accompanied on the opposite pages by the original texts from which borrow translated them. poem, relating to the worship of the great foutsa or buddh. [_should i foutsa's force and glory_] previously printed in _targum_, , p. . there is a copy of the first edition of _the zincali_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is .g. . ( ) [the bible in spain: .] the / bible in spain; / or, the / journeys, adventures, and imprisonments / of an englishman, / in / an attempt to circulate the scriptures / in / the peninsula. / by george borrow, / author of "the gypsies of spain." / in three volumes. / vol. i. [vol. ii, etc.] / london: / john murray, albemarle street. / . _vol. i_. collation:--large duodecimo pp. xxiv + ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_g. woodfall and son_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; _contents of vol. i_ pp. v-viii; _preface_ pp. ix-xxiv; and text pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each verso being headed _the bible in spain_ together with the number of the chapter, whilst each recto carries at its head a note of the particular subject occupying it, with the chapter number repeated. the imprint is repeated at the foot of p. . the signatures are a to q (sixteen sheets, each leaves), plus r (a half-sheet of leaves). the last leaf of sig. r carries a series of advertisements of books published by john murray. _vol. ii_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. viii + ; consisting of half-title (with imprint "_g. woodfall and son_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; _contents of vol. ii._ pp. v-viii; and _text_ pp. - . there are headlines throughout, as in the first volume. the imprint is repeated at the foot of p. . the signatures are a (four leaves), b to r (sixteen sheets, each leaves), plus s ( leaves). the last leaf of sig. r carries a series of advertisements of books published by john murray. _vol. iii_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. viii + ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_g. woodfall and son_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; _contents of vol iii_ pp. v-viii; and text pp. - . there are headlines throughout, as in the two preceding volumes. the reverse of p. is occupied by advertisements of _romantic ballads_, _targum_, and _the zincali_. the imprint is repeated at the foot of p. . the signatures are a ( leaves), b ( leaves), b to r (sixteen sheets, each leaves), plus s ( leaves). issued (in _december_, ) in deep claret-coloured cloth boards, with white paper back-label, lettered "_the_ | _bible_ | _in_ | _spain_ | _vol. i_. [_vol. ii_, &c.]." the leaves measure . x . inches. the published price was _s._ although the title page of the first edition of _the bible in spain_ is dated , there can be no doubt that the book was ready early in the preceding december. i have in my own library a copy, still in the original cloth boards, with the following inscription in borrow's handwriting upon the flyleaf: [picture: borrow's inscription] autographed presentation copies of borrow's books are remarkably few in number, i only know of four, in addition to the above. one of these is preserved in the borrow museum, at norwich. of the first edition of _the bible in spain_ one thousand copies were printed. the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth editions were all published in . by eighteen authorised editions had made their appearance. since that date the book has been re-issued in numberless popular editions, and has been translated into various foreign languages. the following verses made their first appearance in _the bible in spain_: vol. i., page fragment of a spanish hymn. [_once of old upon a mountain_, _shepherds overcome with sleep_] lines from an eastern poet. [_i'll weary myself each night and each day_] a gachapla. [_i stole a plump and bonny fowl_] vol. ii., page fragment of a patriotic song. [_don carlos is a hoary churl_] saint james. [_thou shield of that faith which in spain we revere_] a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of _saint james_ will be found facing the present page. lines. [_may the lord god preserve us from evil birds three_] lines. [_a handless man a letter did write_] there is a copy of the first edition of _the bible in spain_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is .f . [picture: manuscript of the hymn to st. james] ( ) [review of ford's "hand-book for travellers in spain": ] art.--hand-book for travellers in spain. london: vols. / post vo. . collation:--folio, pp. . there is no title-page proper, the title, as above, being imposed upon the upper portion of the first page, after the manner of a 'dropped head.' the head-line is _spanish hand-book_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. there is no printer's imprint. there are also no signatures; but the pamphlet is composed of three sheets, each two leaves, making twelve pages in all. issued stitched, and without wrappers. the leaves measure . x . inches. the pamphlet is undated. it was printed in . this _review_ is unquestionably the rarest of the first editions of borrow's works. no more than two copies would appear to have been struck off, and both are fortunately extant to-day. one of these was formerly in the possession of dr. william i. knapp, and is now the property of the hispanic society, of new york. the second example is in my own library. this was borrow's own copy, and is freely corrected in his characteristic handwriting. a greatly reduced facsimile of the last page of the pamphlet is given herewith. in richard ford published his _hand-book for travellers in spain and readers at home_ [ vols. vo.], a work, the compilation of which is said to have occupied its author for more than sixteen years. in conformity with the wish of ford (who had himself favourably reviewed _the bible in spain_) borrow undertook to produce a study of the _hand-book_ for _the quarterly review_. the above essay was the result. but the essay, brilliant though it is, was not a 'review.' not until page is the _hand-book_ even mentioned, and but little concerning it appears thereafter. lockhart, then editing the _quarterly_, proposed to render it more suitable for the purpose for which it had been intended by himself interpolating a series of extracts from ford's volumes. but borrow would tolerate no interference with his work, and promptly withdrew the essay, which had meanwhile been set up in type. the following letter, addressed by lockhart to ford, sufficiently explains the position: _london_, _june_ _th_, . _dear ford_, '_el gitano_' _sent me a paper on the_ "_hand-book_" _which i read with delight_. _it seemed just another capital chapter of his_ "_bible in spain_" _and i thought_, _as there was hardly a word of_ '_review_,' _and no extract giving the least notion of the peculiar merits and style of the_ "_hand-book_," _that i could easily_ (_as is my constant custom_) _supply the humbler part myself_, _and so present at once a fair review of the work_, _and a lively specimen of our friend's vein of eloquence in exordio_. _but_, _behold_! _he will not allow any tampering_ . . . . _i now write to condole with you_; _for i am very sensible_, _after all_, _that you run a great risk in having your book committed to hands far less competent for treating it or any other book of spanish interest than borrow's would have been_ . . ._ and i consider that_, _after all_, _in the case of a new author_, _it is the first duty of the_ "_quarterly review_" _to introduce that author fully and fairly to the public_. _ever yours truly_, _j. g. lockhart_. "our author pictures gibraltar as a human entity thus addressing spain: _accursed land_! _i hate thee_, _and far from being a defence_, _will invariably prove a thorn in thy side_. and so on through many sentences of excited rhetoric. borrow forgot while he wrote that he had a book to review--a book, moreover, issued by the publishing house which issued the periodical in which his review was to appear."--[_george borrow and his circle_, , p. ]. in borrow's _review_ was reprinted in the following pamphlet: _a_ / _supplementary chapter_ / _to_ / _the bible in spain_ / _inspired by_ / _ford's_ "_handbook for travellers in spain_." / _by_ / _george borrow_ / _london_: / _printed for private circulation_ / .--square demy vo, pp. . [see _post_, no. .] [picture: printed extract from the review with hand-written notes] [picture: title page of supplementary chapter to the bible in spain, ] ( ) [a supplementary chapter to "the bible in spain": ] a / supplementary chapter / to / the bible in spain / inspired by / ford's "handbook for travellers in spain." / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; frontispiece (with blank recto) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; _prefatory note_ (signed '_t. j. w._') pp. - ; and text of the _chapter pp._ - . there are head-lines throughout, each verso being headed _a supplementary chapter_, and each recto _to the bible in spain_. following p. is a leaf, with blank recto, and with the following imprint upon the reverse, "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n. w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a to c ( sheets, each leaves), inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. the frontispiece consists of a greatly reduced facsimile of the last page, bearing borrow's corrections, of the original edition of his _review of ford's_ '_hand-book_.' this _supplementary chapter to_ "_the bible in spain_" is a reprint of the review of ford's _hand-book for travellers in spain_ written by borrow in for insertion in _the quarterly review_, but withdrawn by him in consequence of the proposal made by the editor, john gibson lockhart, that he should himself introduce into borrow's essay a series of extracts from the _handbook_. [see _ante_, no. .] included in the _prefatory note_ is the following amusing squib, written by borrow in , but never printed by him. i chanced to light upon the manuscript in a packet of his still unpublished verse: _would it not be more dignified_ _to run up debts on every side_, _and then to pay your debts refuse_, _than write for rascally reviews_? _and lectures give to great and small_, _in pot-house_, _theatre_, _and town-hall_, _wearing your brains by night and day_ _to win the means to pay your way_? _i vow by him who reigns in_ [_hell_], _it would be more respectable_! there is a copy of _a supplementary chapter to_ "_the bible in spain_" in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. ( ). [picture: manuscript of verse on reviewing] ( ) [lavengro: ] lavengro; / the scholar--the gypsy--the priest. / by george borrow, / author of "the bible in spain," and "the gypsies of spain" / in three volumes.--vol. i. [_vol. ii._, _&c._] / london: / john murray, albemarle street. / . _vol. i_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. xviii { } + ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_london_: / _george woodfall and son_, / _angel court_, _skinner street_" upon the centre of the reverse). pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with advertisements of _the bible in spain_ and _the zincali_ upon the reverse) pp. iii-iv; _preface_ pp. v-xii; and text pp. - . at the foot of p. the imprint is repeated thus, "_g. woodfall and son_, _printers_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_." there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the number of the chapter, together with the title of the individual subject occupying it. the signatures are a (nine leaves, a single leaf being inserted between a and a ), and b to q (fifteen sheets, each leaves). a portrait of borrow, engraved by w. holl from a painting by h. w. phillips, serves as frontispiece. _vol. ii_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. xii + ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_london_: / _george woodfall and son_, / _angel court_, _skinner street_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with advertisements of _the bible in spain_ and _the zincali_ upon the reverse) pp. iii-iv; _contents_ of vol. ii pp. v-xi; p. xii is blank; and text pp. - . at the foot of p. the imprint is repeated thus, "_g. woodfall and son_, _printers_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_." there are head-lines throughout, as in the first volume. the signatures are _a_ ( leaves), _b_ ( leaves), b to q (fifteen sheets, each leaves), plus r ( leaves). _vol. iii_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. xii + ; consisting of: half-title (with imprint "_london_: / _george woodfall and son_, / _angel court_, _skinner street_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with advertisements of _the bible in spain_ and _the zincali_ upon the reverse) pp. iii-iv; _contents_ of vol. iii pp. v-xi; p. xii is blank; and text pp. - . at the foot of p. the imprint is repeated thus, "_g. woodfall and son_, _printers_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_." there are head-lines throughout, as in the first volume. the signatures are _a_ ( leaves), _b_ ( leaves), b to s (seventeen sheets, each leaves), t ( leaves), and u ( leaves). issued in dark blue cloth boards, with white paper back-labels, lettered "_lavengro_; / _the_ / _scholar_, / _the gypsy_, / _and_ / _the priest_. / _by george borrow_ / _vol. i_. [_vol. ii_., _&c._]" the leaves measure . x . inches. the edition consisted of , copies. the published price was _s._ a second edition (miscalled _third edition_) was issued in ; a third (miscalled _fourth_) in ; and a fourth (miscalled _fifth_) in . to the edition of was prefixed a new _preface_, in which borrow replied to his critics in a somewhat angry and irritable manner. copies of the first edition of _lavengro_ are to be met with, the three volumes bound in one, in original publishers' cloth, bearing the name of the firm of chapman and hall upon the back. these copies are 'remainders.' they were made up in . it is by no means unlikely that in some confusion prevailed as to the nature of this subsidiary issue, and that it was mistaken for a second edition of the book. if so the incorrect numbering of the edition of that date, the actual second edition, may be readily accounted for. an important edition of _lavengro_ is: _lavengro_ / _by george borrow_ / _a new edition_ / _containing the unaltered text of the original issue_; / _some suppressed passages now printed for the_ / _first time_; _ms. variorum_, _vocabulary and notes_ / _by the author of_ / _the life of george borrow_ / _london_ / _john murray_, _albemarle street_ / .--crown vo, pp. xxviii + . the book was reprinted in . the editor was dr. william knapp. an edition of _lavengro_, with a valuable introduction by mr. theodore watts-dunton, was published by messrs. ward, lock & co., in . the work is also included in _everyman's library_, and in other series of popular reprints. when put to press in february, , the first volume of _lavengro_ was set up with the title-page reading as follows:-- _life_, _a drama_. / _by_ / _george borrow_, _esq._, / _author of_ "_the bible in spain_," _etc._ / _in three volumes_. / _vol. i_. / _london_: / _john murray_, _albemarle street_. / . only two examples of the volume with this interesting early title-page are known to have survived. one of these is now in the possession of the hispanic society, of new york. the other is the property of mr. otto kyllmann. later in the same year murray advertised the work under the following title:-- _lavengro_, _an autobiography_. _by george borrow_, _esq._, _&c._ the same title was employed in the advertisements of . mr. clement shorter possesses the original draft of the first portion of _lavengro_. in this draft the title-page appears in its earliest form, and describes the book as _some account of the life_, _pursuits_, _and adventures of a norfolk man_. a facsimile of this tentative title was given by mr. shorter in _george borrow and his circle_, , p. . "borrow took many years to write _lavengro_. 'i am writing the work,' he told dawson turner, 'in precisely the same manner as _the bible in spain_, viz. on blank sheets of old account-books, backs of letters,' &c., and he recalls mahomet writing the koran on mutton bones as an analogy to his own 'slovenliness of manuscript.' i have had plenty of opportunity of testing this slovenliness in the collection of manuscripts of portions of _lavengro_ that have come into my possession. these are written upon pieces of paper of all shapes and sizes, although at least a third of the book in borrow's very neat handwriting is contained in a leather notebook. the title-page demonstrates the earliest form of borrow's conception. not only did he then contemplate an undisguised autobiography, but even described himself as 'a norfolk man.' before the book was finished, however, he repudiated the autobiographical note, and we find him fiercely denouncing his critics for coming to such a conclusion. 'the writer,' he declares, 'never said it was an autobiography; never authorised any person to say it was one.' which was doubtless true, in a measure."--[_george borrow and his circle_, , pp. - ]. there is a copy of the first edition of _lavengro_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is . f. . ( .) [the romany rye: ] the / romany rye; / a sequel to "lavengro." / by george borrow, / author of / "the bible in spain," "the gypsies of spain," etc. / "_fear god_, _and take your own part_." / in two volumes.--vol. i. [_vol. ii._] / london: john murray, albemarle street. / . / [the right of translation is reserved.] _vol. i_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. xii + ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with imprint "_london_: _woodfall and kinder_, _printers_, / _angel court_, _skinner street_" at the foot of the reverse) pp. iii-iv; preface (styled _advertisement_) pp. v-vi; table of _contents_ pp. vii-xi; extract from _pleasantries of the cogia nasr eddin efendi_ p. xii; and text pp. - . the head-line is _the romany rye_ throughout, upon both sides of the page; each page also bears at its head the number of the particular chapter occupying it. at the foot of p. the imprint is repeated thus, "_woodfall and kinder_, _printers_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of leaves), b to q ( sheets, each leaves), plus r (a half-sheet of leaves). _vol. ii_. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. viii + + ix; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with imprint "_london_: _woodfall and kinder_, _printers_, / _angel court_, _skinner street_" at the foot of the reverse) pp. iii-iv; table of _contents_ pp. v-vii; p. viii is blank; and text pp. - . the reverse of p. is blank. the volume is completed by eight unnumbered pages of advertisements of _works by the author of_ "_the bible in spain_" _ready for the press_. there are head-lines throughout; up to, and including, p. the head-line is _the romany rye_, together with the numbers of the chapters, pp. - are headed _appendix_, accompanied by the numbers of the chapters. at the foot of the last of the eight unnumbered pages carrying the advertisements (sig. r verso) the imprint is repeated thus, "_woodfall and kinder_, _printers_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_." the signatures are a (four leaves), plus b to r ( sheets, each leaves). issued (on _april_ _th_, ) in dark blue cloth boards, with white paper back-labels, lettered "_the_ / _romany rye_. / _by_ / _george borrow_. / _vol. i_. [_vol. ii_.]" the leaves measure . x inches. of the first edition of _the romany rye_ one thousand copies were printed. the published price was _s._ a second edition was published in , a third in , a fourth in , and a fifth in . the book is included in _everyman's library_, and in other series of popular reprints. the series of advertisements of _works_ by borrow, announced as "ready for the press," which occupy the last eight pages of the second volume of _the romany rye_ are of especial interest. no less than twelve distinct works are included in these advertisements. of these twelve _the bible in spain_ was already in the hands of the public, _wild wales_ duly appeared in , and _the sleeping bard_ in . these three were all that borrow lived to see in print. two others, _the turkish jester_ and _the death of balder_, were published posthumously in and respectively; but the remaining seven, _celtic bards_, _chiefs_, _and kings_, _songs of europe_, _koempe viser_, _penquite and pentyre_, _russian popular tales_, _northern skalds_, _kings_, _and earls_, and _bayr jairgey and glion doo_: _the red path and the black valley_, were never destined to see the light. however, practically the whole of the verse prepared for them was included in the series of pamphlets which have been printed for private circulation during the past twelve months. as was the case with _lavengro_, borrow delayed the completion of _the romany rye_ to an extent that much disconcerted his publisher, john murray. the correspondence which passed between author and publisher is given at some length by dr. knapp, in whose pages the whole question is fully discussed. mr. shorter presents the matter clearly and fairly in the paragraphs he devotes to the subject: "the most distinctly english book--at least in a certain absence of cosmopolitanism--that victorian literature produced was to a great extent written on scraps of paper during a prolonged continental tour which included constantinople and budapest. in _lavengro_ we have only half a book, the whole work, which included what came to be published as _the romany rye_, having been intended to appear in four volumes. the first volume was written in , the second in , and the third volume in the years between and . then in borrow wrote out an advertisement of a fourth volume, which runs as follows: _shortly will be published in one volume_. _price_ _s._ _the rommany rye_, _being the fourth volume of lavengro_. _by george borrow_, _author of the bible in spain_. but this volume did not make an appearance 'shortly.' its author was far too much offended with the critics, too disheartened it may be, to care to offer himself again for their gibes. the years rolled on, and not until did _the romany rye_ appear. the book was now in two volumes, and we see that the word _romany_ had dropped an _m_. . . . the incidents of _lavengro_ are supposed to have taken place between the _th_ of _may_ , and the _th of july_ of that year. in _the romany rye_ the incidents apparently occur between the _th_ of _july_ and the _rd_ of _august_ . in the opinion of mr. john sampson, the whole of the episodes in the five volumes occurred in seventy-two days."--[_george borrow and his circle_, , pp. - .] a useful edition of _the romany rye_ is: _the romany rye_ / _a sequel to_ "_lavengro_" / _by george borrow_ / _a new edition_ / _containing the unaltered text of the original_ / _issue_, _with notes_, _etc._, _by the author of_ / "_the life of george borrow_" / _london_ / _john murray_, _albemarle street_ / .--crown vo. pp. xvi + . the book was edited by dr. william knapp. there is a copy of the first edition of _the romany rye_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is . f. . ( ) [the sleeping bard: ] the sleeping bard; / or / visions of the world, death, and hell, / by / elis wyn. / translated from the cambrian british / by / george borrow, / author of/ "the bible in spain," "the gypsies of spain," etc. / london: / john murray, albemarle street. / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. x + ; consisting of: title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. i-ii; _preface_ pp. iii-vii; p. viii is blank; fly-title to _a vision of the course of the world_ (with blank reverse) pp. ix-x; and text of the three _visions_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each double-page being headed with the title of the particular _vision_ occupying it. _a vision of hell_ is preceded by a separate fly-title (pp. - ) with blank reverse. at the foot of p. is the following imprint, "_james m. denew_, _printer_, , _hall plain_, _great yarmouth_." the sheets carry no register. the book was issued without any half-title. in some copies the christian name of the printer is misprinted _jamms_. issued (in _june_, ) in magenta coloured cloth boards, lettered in gold along the back, "_the sleeping bard_," and "_london_ / _john murray_" across the foot. the published price was _s._; copies were printed. murray's connection with the work was nominal. the book was actually issued at yarmouth by j. m. denew, the printer by whom it was produced. the cost was borne by the author himself, to whom the majority of the copies were ultimately delivered. some few copies of _the sleeping bard_ would appear to have been put up in yellowish-brown plain paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges. one such example is in the possession of mr. paul lemperley, of cleveland, ohio; a second is in the library of mr. clement shorter. the leaves of both these copies measure . x . inches. the leaves of ordinary copies in cloth measure . x . inches. the translation was made in . the text of _the sleeping bard_ is divided into three sections. each of these sections closes with a poem of some length, as follows:-- page . the perishing world. [_o man_, _upon this building gaze_] . death the great. [_leave land and house we must some day_] in the printed text the seventh stanza of _death the great_ reads thus: _the song and dance afford_, _i ween_, _relief from spleen_, _and sorrows grave_; _how very strange there is no dance_, _nor tune of france_, _from death can save_! about the year borrow re-wrote this stanza, as follows: _the song and dance can drive_, _they say_, _the spleen away_, _and humour's grave_; _why hast thou not devised_, _o france_! _some tune and dance_, _from death to save_? as was invariably the case with borrow, his revision was a vast improvement upon the original version. . the heavy heart. [_heavy's the heart with wandering below_] the manuscript of _the sleeping bard_ was formerly in the possession of dr. knapp. it is now the property of the hispanic society, of new york. it extends to pages to. there is a copy of the first edition of _the sleeping bard_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is . c. . ( ) [wild wales: ] wild wales: / its people, language, and scenery. / by george borrow, / author of "the bible in spain," etc. / "_their lord they shall praise_, / _their language they shall keep_, / _their land they shall lose_, / _except wild wales_." / taliesin: destiny of the britons. / in three volumes.--vol. i. [_vol. ii_, _&c._] / london: / john murray, albemarle street. / . / the right of translation is reserved. vol. i. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. xii + ; consisting of: half-title (with advertisements of five of borrow's _works_ upon the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with imprint "_london_: / _printed by woodfall and kinder_, / _angel court_, _skinner street_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. iii-iv; notice regarding the previous appearance of a portion of the work in _the quarterly review_ (with blank reverse) pp. v-vi; _contents of vol. i_ pp. vii-xi; p. xii is blank; and text pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each verso being headed _wild wales_, whilst each recto is headed with the title of the particular subject occupying it. at the foot of p. the imprint is repeated thus: "_woodfall and kinder_, _printers_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of leaves), b to s ( sheets, each leaves), plus t ( leaves). the second leaf of sig. t is a blank. vol. ii. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. viii + ; consisting of: title-page, as above (with imprint "_london_: / _printed by woodfall and kinder_, / _angel court_, _skinner street_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; _contents of vol. ii_ pp. v-vii; p. viii is blank; and text pp. - . the reverse of p. is blank. there are head-lines throughout, as in the first volume. at the foot of p. the imprint is repeated thus, "_woodfall and kinder_, _printers_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_." the signatures are a ( leaves), b to s ( sheets, each leaves), plus t ( leaves). the last leaf of sig. t is a blank. the volume was issued without any half-title. vol. iii. collation:--large duodecimo, pp. viii + ; consisting of: title-page, as above (with imprint "_london_: / _printed by woodfall and kinder_, / _angel court_, _skinner street_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; _contents of vol. iii_ pp. iii-viii; and text pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, as in the first volume. at the foot of p. the imprint is repeated thus, "_woodfall and kinder_, _printers_, _angel court_, _skinner street_, _london_." the signatures are a ( leaves), b to u ( sheets, each leaves), plus x ( leaves). the last leaf of sig. h is a blank. the volume was issued without any half-title. issued (in _december_, ) in dark green cloth boards, with white paper back-label, lettered "_wild wales_. / _by_ / _george borrow_. / _vol. i_ [vol. ii, &c.]." the leaves measure . x . inches. the published price was _s._; , copies were printed. a second edition of _wild wales_ was issued in , a third edition in , and a fourth edition in . the book has since been included in divers series of non-copyright works. the following poems made their first appearance in the pages of _wild wales_: vol. i page chester ale. [_chester ale_, _chester ale_! _i could ne'er get it down_] another, widely different, version of these lines exist in manuscript. it reads as follows: _on the ale of chester_. _of chester the ale has but sorry renown_, '_tis made of ground-ivy_, _of dust_, _and of bran_; '_tis as thick as a river belough a hugh town_, '_tis not lap for a dog_, _far less drink for a man_. saxons and britons. [_a serpent which coils_] previously printed in _the quarterly review_, _january_ , p. . translation of a welsh englyn upon dinas bran. [_gone_, _gone are thy gates_, _dinas bran on the height_!] lines found on the tomb of madoc. [_here after sailing far i madoc lie_] the lassies of county merion. [_full fair the gleisiad in the flood_] this was one stanza only, the fifth, of the complete poem _the cookoo's song in merion_, which borrow translated some years later, and which was first printed in _ermeline_, , pp. - . the text of the two versions of this stanza differ considerably. stanza on the stone of jane williams. [_though thou art gone to dwelling cold_] the mist. [_o ho_! _thou villain mist_, _o ho_!] although borrow translated the whole poem, he omitted lines (the opening and closing lines) when printing it in _wild wales_. here are the missing lines, which i give from the original manuscript: _a tryste with morfydd true i made_, '_twas not the first_,_ in greenwood glade_, _in hope to make her flee with me_; _but useless all_, _as you will see_. _i went betimes_, _lest she should grieve_, _then came a mist at close of eve_; _wide o'er the path by which i passed_, _its mantle dim and murk it cast_. _that mist ascending met the sky_, _forcing the daylight from my eye_. _i scarce had strayed a furlong's space_ _when of all things i lost the trace_. _where was the grove and waving grain_? _where was the mountain hill and main_? * * * * * _before me all affright and fear_, _above me darkness dense and drear_, _my way at length i weary found_, _into a swaggy willow ground_, _where staring in each nook there stood_ _of wry mouthed elves a wrathful brood_. _full oft i sank in that false soil_, _my legs were lamed with length of toil_. _however hard the case may be_ _no meetings more in mist for me_. two of the above lines, somewhat differently worded, were given in _wild wales_, vol. i, p. . lines descriptive of the eagerness of a soul to reach paradise. [_now to my rest i hurry away_] filicaia's sonnet on italy. [_o italy_! _on whom dark destiny_] translation of an englyn foretelling travelling by steam. [_i got up in mona_, _as soon as_ '_twas light_] translation of a welsh stanza about snowdon. [_easy to say_ '_behold eryri_'] stanzas on the snow of snowdon. [_cold is the snow on snowdon's brow_] vol. ii lines from black robin's ode in praise of anglesey. [_twelve sober men the muses woo_] lines on a spring. [_the wild wine of nature_] things written in a garden. [_in a garden the first of our race was deceived_] el punto de la vana. [_never trust the sample when you go your cloth to buy_] llangollen's ale. [_llangollen's brown ale is with malt and hop rife_] poverty and riches. an interlude. [_o riches_, _thy figure is charming and bright_] a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of this _interlude_ is given herewith, facing page . an ode to sychark. by iolo goch. [_twice have i pledged my word to thee_] vol. iii translation of a welsh englyn on the rhyadr. [_foaming and frothing from mountainous height_] ode to owen glendower. [_here's the life i've sigh'd for long_] ode to a yew tree. [_thou noble tree_; _who shelt'rest kind_] lines. [_from high plynlimmon's shaggy side_] ode to a yew tree. [_o tree of yew_, _which here i spy_] this is another, and extended, version of the _ode_ printed on p. of _wild wales_. yet another version, differing from both, is printed in _alf the freebooter and other ballads_, , p. . lines from ode to the ploughman, by iolo goch. [_the mighty hu who lives for ever_] previously printed, with some verbal differences, in _the quarterly review_, _january_ , p. . lines on a tomb-stone. [_thou earth from earth reflect with anxious mind_] ode to griffith ap nicholas. [_griffith ap nicholas_, _who like thee_] the first six lines of this ode had previously appeared in _the quarterly review_, _january_ , p. . god's better than all. [_god's better than heaven or aught therein_] a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of _god's better than all_ will be found facing the present page. ab gwilym's ode to the sun and glamorgan. [_each morn_, _benign of countenance_] there is a copy of the first edition of _wild wales_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is . e. . [picture: manuscript of poverty and riches] [picture: manuscript of god's better than all] ( ) [romano lavo-lil: ] romano lavo-lil: / word-book of the romany; / or, / english gypsy language. / with many pieces in gypsy, illustrative of the way of / speaking and thinking of the english gypsies; / with specimens of their poetry, and an account of certain gypsyries / or places inhabited by them, and of various things / relating to gypsy life in england. / by george borrow, / author of "lavengro," "the romany rye," "the gypsies of spain," / "the bible in spain," etc. / "_can you rokra romany_? / _can you play the bosh_? / _can you jal adrey the staripen_? / _can you chin the cost_?" / "_can you speak the roman tongue_? / _can you play the fiddle_? / _can you eat the prison-loaf_? / _can you cut and whittle_? / london: / john murray, albemarle street. / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. viii + ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with imprint "_london_: / _printed by william clowes and sons_, / _stamford street and charing cross_" upon the centre of the reverse) pp. iii-iv; prefatory note regarding the _vocabulary_ p. v; advertisements of five _works of george borrow_ p. vi; table of _contents_ pp. vii-viii; and text pp. - , including fly-titles (each with blank reverse) to each section of the book. the reverse of p. is blank. at the foot of p. the imprint is repeated thus, "_london_: _printed by wm. clowes and sons_, _stamford street_ / _and charing cross_." there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular subject occupying it. the signatures, are a (a half-sheet of leaves), b to x ( sheets, each leaves), y (a half-sheet of leaves), and z (a quarter-sheet of leaves). issued in dark blue cloth boards, with white paper back-label, lettered "_romano lavo-lil_; / _word-book_ / _of_ / _the romany_. / _by_ / _george borrow_." the leaves measure . x . inches. the published price was _s._ _d._ one thousand copies were printed. the book was set up in type towards the end of , and published early in . proof-sheets still exist bearing the earlier date upon the title-page. a considerable amount of verse by borrow made its first appearance in the pages of _romano lavo-lil_, as detailed in the following list: _contents_ page little sayings: . [ _whatever ignorance men may show_] . [_what must i do_, _mother_, _to make you well_?] . [_i would rather hear him speak than hear lally sing_] english gypsy songs: . the gypsy meeting. [_who's your mother_, _who's your father_?] . making a fortune ( ). [_come along_, _my little gypsy girl_] . making a fortune ( ). [_come along_, _my little gypsy girl_] the two gypsies. [_two gypsy lads were transported_] my roman lass. [_as i to the town was going one day_] this is the first stanza only of _the english gypsy_. the complete song will be found in _marsk stig's daughters and other_ _songs and ballads_, , pp. - . here is the concluding stanza, omitted in _romano lavo-lil_: _as i to the town was going one day_, _i met a young roman upon the way_. _said he_, "_young maid will you share my lot_?" _said i_, "_another wife you've got_." "_no_, _no_!" _the handsome young roman cried_, "_no wife have i in the world so wide_; _and you my wedded wife shall be_, _if you will share my lot with me_." yes, my girl. [_if to me you prove untrue_] the youthful earl. [_said the youthful earl to the gypsy girl_] love song. [_i'd choose as pillows for my head_] woe is me. [_i'm sailing across the water_] the squire and lady. [_the squire he roams the good greenwood_] gypsy lullaby. [_sleep thee_, _little tawny boy_!] our blessed queen. [_coaches fine in london_] run for it. [_up_, _up_, _brothers_!] this is the first stanza only of the _gypsy song_, printed complete in _marsk stig's daughters and other songs and ballads_, , p. . the romany songstress. [_her temples they are aching_] the friar. [_a friar was preaching once with zeal and with fire_] the manuscript of these amusing verses, which were translated by borrow from the dialect of the spanish gypsies, affords some curious variants from the published text. here are the lines as they stand in the ms.: _a friar_ _was preaching once with zeal and with fire_; _and a butcher of the plain_ _had lost a bonny swine_; _and the friar did opine_ _that the gypsies it had ta'en_. _so_, _breaking off_, _he shouted_, "_gypsy ho_! _hie home_, _and from the pot_ _take the butcher's porker out_, _the porker good and fat_, _and in its place throw_ _a clout_, _a dingy clout_ _of thy brat_, _of thy brat_; _a clout_, _a dingy clout_, _of thy brat_." malbrouk. from the spanish gypsy version. [_malbrouk is gone to the wars_] sorrowful years. [_the wit and the skill_] fortune-telling. [_late rather one morning_] the fortune-teller's song. [_britannia is my name_] gypsy stanza. [_can you speak the roman tongue_?] charlotte cooper. [_old charlotte i am called_] epigram. [_a beautiful face and a black wicked mind_] lines. [_mickie_, _huwie and larry bold_] lines. [_what care we_, _though we be so small_?] ryley bosvil. [_the gorgios seek to hang me_] ryley and the gypsy. [_methinks i see a brother_] to yocky shuri. [_beneath the bright sun_, _there is none_, _there is none_] lines. [_roman lads before the door_] upon page of _romano lavo-lil_, is printed a version of _the lord's prayer_ cast into romany by borrow. the original manuscript of this translation has survived, and its text presents some curious variations from the published version. a reduced facsimile of this manuscript serves as frontispiece to the present bibliography. accompanying the manuscript of _the lord's prayer_ in romany, is the manuscript of a translation made by borrow into the dialect of the english gypsies. this translation has never, so far as i am aware, appeared in print. it is an interesting document, and well worthy of preservation. a reduced facsimile of it will be found facing the present page. [picture: manuscript of the lord's prayer] a second edition of _romano lavo-lil_ was issued by the same publisher, john murray, in , and a third in . there is a copy of the first edition of _romano lavo-lil_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is . c. . ( ) [the turkish jester: ] the turkish jester; / or, / the pleasantries / of / cogia nasr eddin effendi. / translated from the turkish / by / george borrow. / ipswich: / w. webber, dial lane. / . collation:--crown octavo, printed in half-sheets, pp. ii + ; consisting of: title-page, as above (with certificate of issue upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; and text pp. - . there are no head-lines, the pages being numbered centrally. the book is made up in a somewhat unusual manner, each half-sheet having a separately printed quarter-sheet of two leaves imposed within it. the register is therefore b to e (four sections, each leaves), plus f ( leaves), the whole preceded by two leaves, one of which is blank, whilst the other carries the title-page. there is no printer's imprint. the book was issued without any half-title. the title is enclosed within a single rectangular ruled frame. issued in cream-coloured paper wrappers, with the title-page reproduced upon the front, but reset in types of different character, and without the ruled frame, and with the imprint reading _high street_ in place of _dial lane_. inside the front cover the certificate of issue is repeated. the leaves measure . x inches. the edition consisted of one hundred and fifty copies. the published price was _s._ _d._ the manuscript of _the turkish jester_ was formerly owned by dr. knapp, and is now the property of the hispanic society, of new york. it extends to pages to. the translation was probably made about , at the time when borrow was at work upon his _songs of europe_. in , the book was included among the advertisements appended to the second volume of _the romany rye_. there is a copy of the first edition of _the turkish jester_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is . b. . ( ) [the death of balder: ] the / death of balder / from the danish / of / johannes ewald / ( ) / translated by / george borrow / author of "bible in spain," "lavengro," "wild wales," etc. / london / jarrold & sons, paternoster buildings, e.c. / / all rights reserved. collation:--crown octavo, pp. viii + ; consisting of: half-title (with certificate of issue upon the centre of the reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; _preface_ and list of _the persons_ (each with blank reverse) pp. v-viii; and text pp. - . the reverse of p. is blank. the head-line is _death of balder_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. at the foot of p. is the following imprint, "_printed by ballantyne_, _hanson & co._ / _london and edinburgh_." the signatures are a ( leaves), and b to f ( sheets, each leaves). sig. f is a blank. issued in dark brown 'diced' cloth boards, with white paper back-label. the leaves measure . x inches. two hundred and fifty copies were printed. the published price was _s._ _d._ _the death of balder_ was written in , the year during which borrow produced so many of his ballad translations, the year in which he made his fruitless effort to obtain subscribers for his _songs of scandinavia_. on _december_ _th_ of that year he wrote to dr. [afterwards sir] john bowring: "i wish to shew you my translation of _the death of balder_, ewald's most celebrated production, which, if you approve of, you will perhaps render me some assistance in bringing forth, for i don't know many publishers. i think this will be a proper time to introduce it to the british public, as your account of danish literature will doubtless cause a sensation." evidently no publisher was forthcoming, for the work remained in manuscript until , when, eight years after borrow's death, messrs. jarrold & sons gave it to the world. in borrow included the tragedy among the series of works advertised as "ready for the press" at the end of the second volume of _the romany rye_. it was there described as "_a heroic play_." although published only in , _the death of balder_ was actually set up in type three years earlier. it had been intended that the book should have been issued in london by messrs. reeves & turner, and proof-sheets exist carrying upon the title-page the name of that firm as publishers, and bearing the date . it would appear that mr. w. webber, a bookseller of ipswich, who then owned the manuscript, had at first contemplated issuing the book through messrs. reeves & turner. but at this juncture he entered into the employment of messrs. jarrold & sons, and consequently the books was finally brought out by that firm. the types were not reset, but were kept standing during the interval. another version of the song of the three valkyrier, which appears in _the death of balder_, pp. - , was printed in _marsk stig's daughters and other songs and ballads_, , pp. - . the text of the two versions differs entirely, in addition to which the version forms one complete single song, whilst in that of the lines are divided up between the several characters. the manuscript of _the death of balder_, referred to above, passed into the hands of dr. knapp, and is now in the possession of the hispanic society, of new york. it consists of pages to. a transcript in the handwriting of mrs. borrow is also the property of the society. there is a copy of the first edition of _the death of balder_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is . f . ( ) [letters to the bible society: ] letters of / george borrow / to the british and foreign / bible society / published by direction of the committee / edited by / t. h. darlow / hodder and stoughton / london new york toronto / . collation:--octavo, pp. xviii + ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. i-ii; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. iii-iv; dedication _to williamson lamplough_ (with blank reverse) pp. v-vi; preface vii-xi; note regarding "the officials of the bible society with whom borrow came into close relationship" pp. xi-xii; _list of borrow's letters_, _etc._, _printed in this volume_ pp. xiii-xvii; chronological _outline of borrow's career_ p. xviii; and text of the _letters_, &c., pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each verso being headed _george borrow's letters_, and each recto _to the bible society_. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint "_printed by t. and a. constable_, _printers to his majesty_ / _at the edinburgh university press_." the signatures are _a_ (one sheet of leaves), _b_ (a quarter-sheet of leaves), a to f ( sheets, each leaves) plus g (a half-sheet of leaves). sig. _a_ is a blank. a facsimile of one of the letters included in the volume is inserted as frontispiece. issued in dark crimson buckram, with paper sides, lettered in gold across the back, "_letters of_ / _george_ / _borrow_ / _to the_ / _bible society_ / _edited by_ / _t. h. darlow_ / _hodder &_ / _stoughton_." the leaves measure . x . inches. the published price was _s._ _d._ "when borrow set about preparing _the bible in spain_, he obtained from the committee of the bible society the loan of the letters which are here published, and introduced considerable portions of them into that most picturesque and popular of his works. perhaps one-third of the contents of the present volume was utilised in this way, being more or less altered and edited by borrow for the purpose."--[_preface_, pp. ix-x]. the holographs of the complete series of letters included in this volume are preserved in the archives of the british and foreign bible society. there is a copy of _letters of george borrow to the british and foreign bible society_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is .e. . ( ) [letters to mary borrow: ] letters / to his wife / mary borrow / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse), pp. - ; and text of the _letters_ pp. - . the head-line is _letters to his wife_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. following p. is a leaf, with blank reverse, and with the following imprint upon its recto, "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half sheet of leaves), plus b and c ( sheets, each leaves), inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x inches. thirty copies only were printed. holograph letters by borrow are extremely uncommon, the number known to be extant being far less than one might have supposed would be the case, considering the good age to which borrow attained. his correspondents were few, and, save to the officials of the bible society, he was not a diligent letter-writer. the holographs of this series of letters addressed to his wife are in my own collection of borroviana. the majority of the letters included in this volume were reprinted in _george borrow and his circle_. _by clement king shorter_, vo, . there is a copy of _letters to his wife_, _mary borrow_, in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . ( ) [marsk stig: ] marsk stig / a ballad / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballad_ pp. - . the head-line is _marsk stig_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. at the foot of p. is the following imprint, "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of leaves), plus b and c ( sheets, each leaves), inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x inches. thirty copies only were printed. _marsk stig_ consists of four separate ballads, or _songs_ as borrow styled them, the whole forming one complete and connected story. the plot is an old danish legend of the same character as the history of david and bathsheba, marsk stig himself being the counterpart of uriah the hittite. the four _songs_ commence as follows:-- page . _marsk stig he out of the country rode_ _to win him fame with his good bright sword_ . _marsk stig he woke at black midnight_, _and loudly cried to his lady dear_ . _there's many i ween in denmark green_ _who all to be masters now desire_ . _there were seven and seven times twenty_ _that met upon the verdant wold_ _marsk stig_ was one of the ballads prepared by borrow for _the songs of scandinavia_ in , and revised for the _koempe viser_ in . both manuscripts are extant, and i give reproductions of a page of each. it will be observed that upon the margins of the earlier manuscript borrow wrote his revisions, so that this manuscript practically carries in itself both versions of the ballad. the manuscript of is in the possession of mr. j. h. spoor, of chicago. the manuscript of is in my own library. as a specimen of _marsk stig_ i quote the following stanzas: _it was the young and bold marsk stig_ _came riding into the castle yard_, _abroad did stand the king of the land_ _so fair array'd in sable and mard_. "_now lend an ear_, _young marshal stig_, _i have for thee a fair emprise_, _ride thou this year to the war and bear_ _my flag amongst my enemies_." "_and if i shall fare to the war this year_, _and risk my life among thy foes_, _do thou take care of my lady dear_, _of ingeborg_, _that beauteous rose_." _then answer'd erik_, _the youthful king_, _with a laugh in his sleeve thus answered he_: "_no more i swear has thy lady to fear_ _than if my sister dear were she_." _it was then the bold sir marshal stig_, _from out of the country he did depart_, _in her castle sate his lonely mate_, _fair ingeborg_, _with grief at heart_. "_now saddle my steed_," _cried eric the king_, "_now saddle my steed_," _king eric cried_, "_to visit the dame of beauteous fame_ _your king will into the country ride_." * * * * * "_now list_, _now list_, _dame ingeborg_, _thou art_, _i swear_, _a beauteous star_, _live thou with me in love and glee_, _whilst marshal stig is engag'd in war_." _then up and spake dame ingeborg_, _for nought was she but a virtuous wife_: "_rather_, _i say_, _than stig betray_, _sir king_, _i'd gladly lose my life_." "_give ear_, _thou proud dame ingeborg_, _if thou my leman and love will be_, _each finger fair of thy hand shall bear_ _a ring of gold so red of blee_." "_marsk stig has given gold rings to me_, _and pearls around my neck to string_; _by the saints above i never will prove_ _untrue to the marshal's couch_, _sir king_." * * * * * _it was erik the danish king_, _a damnable deed the king he wrought_; _he forc'd with might that lady bright_, _whilst her good lord his battles fought_. * * * * * _it was the young sir marshal stig_ _stepp'd proudly in at the lofty door_; _and bold knights then_, _and bold knight's men_, _stood up the marshal stig before_. _so up to the king of the land he goes_, _and straight to make his plaint began_; _then murmured loud the assembled crowd_, _and clench'd his fist each honest man_. "_ye good men hear a tale of fear_, _a tale of horror_, _a tale of hell_-- &c., &c. there is a copy of _marsk stig a ballad_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of marsk stig, ] [picture: manuscript of marsk stig-- ] [picture: manuscript of marsk stig-- ] ( ) [the serpent knight: ] the serpent knight / and / other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; table of _contents_ (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), plus b & c (two sheets, each eight leaves), inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the serpent knight. [_signelil sits in her bower alone_] the only extant ms. of this ballad originally bore the title _the transformed knight_, but the word _transformed_ is struck out and replaced by _serpent_, in borrow's handwriting. sir olaf. [_sir olaf rides on his courser tall_] _sir olaf_ is one of borrow's most successful ballads. the only extant manuscript is written upon paper water-marked with the date , and was prepared for the projected _koempe viser_. the treacherous merman. ["_now rede me mother_," _the merman cried_] this ballad is a later, and greatly improved, version of one which appeared under the title _the merman_ only, in the _romantic ballads_ of . the introduction of the incident of the changing by magic of the horse into a boat, furnishes a reason for the catastrophe which was lacking in the earlier version. in its final shape _the treacherous merman_ is another of borrow's most successful ballads, and it is evident that he bestowed upon it an infinite amount of care and labour. an early draft of the final version [a reduced facsimile of its first page will be found _ante_, facing p. ] bears the tentative title _marsk stig's daughter_. besides the two printed versions borrow certainly composed a third, for a fragment exists of a third ms., the text of which differs considerably from that of both the others. the knight in the deer's shape. [_it was the knight sir peter_] facing the present page is a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of _the knight in the deer's shape_. the stalwart monk. [_above the wood a cloister towers_] _the stalwart monk_ was composed by borrow about the year . whether he had worked upon the ballad in earlier years cannot be ascertained, as no other manuscript besides that from which it was printed in the present volume is known to exist. the cruel step-dame. [_my father up of the country rode_] the cuckoo. [_yonder the cuckoo flutters_] the complete manuscript of _the serpent knight and other ballads_ is in my own collection of borroviana. there is a copy of _the serpent knight and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of the serpent king] [picture: manuscript of the knight in the deer's shape] ( ) [the king's wake: ] the king's wake / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), with b (a full sheet of eight leaves) inset within it. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the king's wake. [_to-night is the night that the wake they hold_] an early draft of this ballad has the title _the watchnight_. swayne felding. [_swayne felding sits at helsingborg_] of _swayne felding_ two manuscripts are extant. one, originally destined for _the songs of scandinavia_, is written upon white paper water-marked with the date . the other, written upon blue paper, was prepared for the _koempe viser_ of . in the earlier ms. the ballad bears the title _swayne felding's combat with the giant_; the later ms. is entitled _swayne felding_ only. the texts of the two mss. differ widely. innocence defamed. [_misfortune comes to every door_] the heroic ballads included in these collections are all far too long to admit of any one of them being given in full. as an example of the shorter ballads i quote the title-poem of the present pamphlet, _the king's wake_: _the king's wake_ { } _to-night is the night that the wake they hold_, _to the wake repair both young and old_. _proud signelil she her mother address'd_: "_may i go watch along with the rest_?" "_o what at the wake wouldst do my dear_? _thou'st neither sister nor brother there_. "_nor brother-in-law to protect thy youth_, _to the wake thou must not go forsooth_. "_there be the king and his warriors gay_, _if me thou list thou at home wilt stay_." "_but the queen will be there and her maiden crew_, _pray let me go_, _mother_, _the dance to view_." _so long_, _so long begged the maiden young_, _that at length from her mother consent she wrung_. "_then go_, _my child_, _if thou needs must go_, _but thy mother ne'er went to the wake i trow_." _then through the thick forest the maiden went_, _to reach the wake her mind was bent_. _when o'er the green meadows she had won_, _the queen and her maidens to bed were gone_. _and when she came to the castle gate_ _they were plying the dance at a furious rate_. _there danced full many a mail-clad man_, _and the youthful king he led the van_. _he stretched forth his hand with an air so free_: "_wilt dance_, _thou pretty maid_, _with me_?" "_o_, _sir_, _i've come across the wold_ _that i with the queen discourse might hold_." "_come dance_," _said the king with a courteous smile_, "_the queen will be here in a little while_." _then forward she stepped like a blushing rose_, _she takes his hand and to dance she goes_. "_hear signelil what i say to thee_, _a ditty of love sing thou to me_." "_a ditty of love i will not_, _sir king_, _but as well as i can another i'll sing_." _proud signil began_, _a ditty she sang_, _to the ears of the queen in her bed it rang_. _says the queen in her chamber as she lay_: "_o which of my maidens doth sing so gay_? "_o which of my maidens doth sing so late_, _to bed why followed they me not straight_?" _then answered the queen the little foot page_: "'_tis none of thy maidens i'll engage_. "'_tis none i'll engage of the maiden band_, '_tis signil proud from the islet's strand_." "_o bring my red mantle hither to me_, _for i'll go down this maid to see_." _and when they came down to the castle gate_ _the dance it moved at so brave a rate_. _about and around they danced with glee_, _there stood the queen and the whole did see_. _the queen she felt so sore aggrieved_ _when the king with signil she perceived_. _sophia the queen to her maid did sign_: "_go fetch me hither a horn of wine_." _his hand the king stretched forth so free_: "_wilt thou sophia my partner be_?" "_o i'll not dance with thee_, _i vow_, _unless proud signil pledge me now_." _the horn she raised to her lips_, _athirst_, _the innocent heart in her bosom burst_. _there stood king valdemar pale as clay_, _stone dead at his feet the maiden lay_. "_a fairer maid since i first drew breath_ _ne'er came more guiltless to her death_." _for her wept woman and maid so sore_, _to the church her beauteous corse they bore_. _but better with her it would have sped_, _had she but heard what her mother said_. there is a copy of _the king's wake and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of the king's wake] [picture: manuscript of the king's wake] ( ) [the dalby bear: ] the dalby bear / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_ / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), with b (a full sheet of leaves) inset within it. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the dalby bear. [_there goes a bear on dalby moors_] tygge hermandsen. [_down o'er the isle in torrents fell_] the ballad was printed from a manuscript written in . i give a reduced facsimile of a page of an earlier manuscript written in . the wicked stepmother. [_sir ove he has no daughter but one_] this ballad should be read in conjunction with _the wicked stepmother_, _no. ii_, printed in _young swaigder or the force of runes and other ballads_, , pp. - . the complete manuscript of _the dalby bear and other ballads_ is in the library of mr. clement shorter. there is a copy of _the dalby bear and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of tygge hermandsen] ( .) [the mermaid's prophecy: ] the / mermaid's prophecy / and other / songs relating to queen dagmar / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _songs_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _song_ occupying it. following p. is a leaf, with a notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse, and with the following imprint upon its recto: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a and b (two sheets, each eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page songs relating to queen dagmar: i. king valdemar's wooing. [_valdemar king and sir strange bold_] ii. queen dagmar's arrival in denmark. [_it was bohemia's queen began_] iii. the mermaid's prophecy. [_the king he has caught the fair mermaid_, _and deep_] rosmer. [_buckshank bold and elfinstone_] this ballad should be read in conjunction with _rosmer mereman_, printed in _young swaigder or the force of runes and other ballads_, , pp. - . of _the mermaid's prophecy_ there are two manuscripts extant. in the earlier of these, written in , the poem is entitled _the mermaid's prophecy_. in the later manuscript, written apparently about the year , it is entitled _the mermaid_ only. from this later manuscript the poem was printed in the present volume. unlike the majority of borrow's manuscripts, which usually exhibit extreme differences of text when two holographs exist of the same poem, the texts of the two versions of _the mermaid's prophecy_ are practically identical, the opening stanza alone presenting any important variation. here are the two versions of this stanza: the dane king had the mermaiden caught by his swains, _the mermaid dances the floor upon_-- and her in the tower had loaded with chains, because his will she had not done. the king he has caught the fair mermaid, and deep (_the mermaid dances the floor upon_) in the dungeon has placed her, to pine and to weep, because his will she had not done. there is a copy of _the mermaid's prophecy and other songs relating to queen dagmar_ in the library of the british museum. the press mark is c. . d. . ( .) [hafbur and signe: ] hafbur and signe / a ballad / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballad_ pp. - . the head-line is _hafbur and signe_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), with b (a full sheet of eight leaves) inset within it. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page hafbur and signe. [_young hafbur king and sivard king they lived in bitter enmity_] of _hafbur and signe_ two manuscripts are extant. the first of these was doubtless written in the early summer of , for on _june_ _st_ of that year borrow wrote to dr. bowring: _i send you_ "_hafbur and signe_" _to deposit in the scandinavian treasury_ [i.e. among the _songs of scandinavia_]. the later manuscript was written in or about the year . the earlier of these two manuscripts is in the collection of mr. herbert t. butler. the later manuscript is in my own library. as is usually the case when two manuscripts of one of borrow's ballads are available, the difference in poetical value of the two versions of _hafbur and signe_ is considerably. few examples could exhibit more distinctly the advance made by borrow in the art of poetical composition during the interval. here are some stanzas from the version of . _so late it was at nightly tide_, _down fell the dew o'er hill and mead_; _then lists it her proud signild fair_ _with all the rest to bed to speed_. "_o where shall i a bed procure_?" _said hafbur then_, _the king's good son_. "_o thou shalt rest in chamber best_ _with me the bolsters blue upon_." _proud signild foremost went_, _and stepped_ _the threshold of her chamber o'er_; _with secret glee came hafbur_, _he_ _had never been so glad before_. _then lighted they the waxen lights_, _so fairly twisted were the same_. _behind_, _behind_, _with ill at mind_, _the wicked servant maiden came_ the following are the parallel stanzas from the version of _so late it was in the nightly tide_, _dew fell o'er hill and mead_; _then listed her proud signild fair_ _with the rest to bed to speed_. "_o where shall i a bed procure_?" _said hafbour the king's good son_. "_in the chamber best with me thou shalt rest_, _the bolsters blue upon_." _proud signild foremost went and stepp'd_ _the high chamber's threshold o'er_, _prince hafbour came after with secret laughter_, _he'd ne'er been delighted more_ _then lighted they the waxen lights_, _fair twisted were the same_. _behind_, _behind with ill in her mind_ _the wicked servant came_. i give herewith a reduced facsimile of the last page of each manuscript. [picture: hafbur and signe-- ] [picture: hafbur and signe-- ] there is a copy of _hafbur and signe a ballad_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of hafbur and signe] ( ) [the story of yvashka: ] the story / of / yvashka with the bear's ear / translated from the russian / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; frontispiece (with blank recto) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; _introduction_ (by borrow) pp. - ; and text of the _story_ pp. - . the head-line is _yvashka with the bears ear_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n. w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half sheet of leaves), and b (a full sheet of leaves), the one inset within the other. the frontispiece consists of a reduced facsimile of the first page of the original manuscript in borrow's handwriting. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _the story of yvashka_ was the second of three _russian popular tales_, which were contributed by borrow to the pages of _once a week_ during . _the story of yvashka_ appeared in the number for _may_ _th_, , vol. vi, pp. - . the _story_ was reprinted in _the sphere_, _feb._ _st_, , p. . the text of _yvashka_ as printed in _once a week_ differs appreciably from that printed in _the sphere_, and in the private pamphlet of , both of which are identical. the manuscript from which the two latter versions were taken was the original translation. the version which appeared in _once a week_ was printed from a fresh manuscript (which fills quarto pages) prepared in . a reduced facsimile of the first page of the earlier manuscript (which extends to . quarto pages) will be found reproduced upon the opposite page. in this manuscript the story is entitled _the history of jack with the bear's ear_. judging from the appearance of this ms., both paper and handwriting, together with that of fragments which remain of the original mss. of the other two published _tales_, it seems probable that the whole were produced by borrow during his residence in st. petersburg. should such surmise be correct, the _tales_ are contemporary with _targum_. the _once a week_ version of _the story of yvashka_ was reprinted in _the avon booklet_, vol. ii, , pp. - . there is a copy of _the story of yvashka_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of history of jack with the bear's ear] ( ) [the verner raven: ] the verner raven / the count of vendel's / daughter / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - , and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are headlines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_ / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of leaves), b (a half sheet of leaves), and c (a full sheet of leaves), all inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the verner raven. [_the raven he flies in the evening tide_] the count of vendel's daughter. [_within a bower the womb i left_] previously printed in _once a week_, vol. viii, _january_ _rd_, , pp. - . the cruel mother-in-law. [_from his home and his country sir volmor should fare_] the faithful king of thule. [_a king so true and steady_] the fairies' song. [_balmy the evening air_] note.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. the manuscript of _the count of vendel's daughter_ is included in the extensive collection of borroviana belonging to mr. f. j. farrell, of great yarmouth. there is a copy of _the verner raven_, _the count of vendel's daughter_, _and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . ( ) [the return of the dead: ] the / return of the dead / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. following p. is a leaf, with blank reverse, and with the following imprint upon its recto: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), with b (a full sheet of eight leaves), inset within it. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the return of the dead. [_swayne dyring o'er to the island strayed_] the transformed damsel. [_i take my axe upon my back_] the forced consent. [_within her own fair castelaye_] ingeborg's disguise. [_such handsome court clothes the proud ingeborg buys_] song. [_i've pleasure not a little_] as a further example of borrow's shorter ballads, i give _ingeborg's disguise_ in full. the entire series included in _the return of the dead and other ballads_ ranks among the most uniformly successful of borrow's achievements in this particular branch of literature:-- _ingeborg's disguise_ { } _such handsome court clothes the proud ingeborg buys_, _says she_, "_i'll myself as a courtier disguise_." _proud ingeborg hastens her steed to bestride_, _says she_, "_i'll away with the king to reside_." "_thou gallant young king to my speech lend an ear_, _hast thou any need of my services here_?" "_o yes_, _my sweet lad_, _of a horseboy i've need_, _if there were but stable room here for his steed_. "_but thy steed in the stall with my own can be tied_, _and thou_ '_neath the linen shalt sleep by my side_." _three years in the palate good service she wrought_ _that she was a woman no one ever thought_. _she filled for three years of a horse-boy the place_, _and the steeds of the monarch she drove out to graze_. _she led for three years the king's steeds to the brook_, _for else than a youth no one ingeborg took_. _proud ingeborg knows how to make the dames gay_, _she also can sing in such ravishing way_. _the hair on her head is like yellow spun gold_, _to her beauty the heart of the prince was not cold_. _but at length up and down in the palace she strayed_, _her colour and hair began swiftly to fade_. _what eye has seen ever so wondrous a case_? _the boy his own spurs to his heel cannot brace_. _the horse-boy is brought to so wondrous a plight_, _to draw his own weapon he has not the might_. _the son of the king to five damsels now sends_, _and ingeborg fair to their care he commends_. _proud ingeborg took they and wrapped in their weed_, _and to the stone chamber with her they proceed_. _upon the blue cushions they ingeborg laid_, _where light of two beautiful sons she is made_. _then in came the prince_, _smiled the babies to view_: "'_tis not every horse-boy can bear such a two_." _he patted her soft on her cheek sleek and fair_: "_forget my heart's dearest all sorrow and care_." _he placed the gold crown on her temples i ween_: "_with me shalt thou live as my wife and my queen_." the complete manuscript of _the return of the dead and other ballads_ is in my own library. there is a copy of _the return of the dead and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. .d. . [picture: title page of the return of the dead] [picture: manuscript of ingeborg's disguise] ( ) [axel thordson: ] axel thordson / and fair valborg / a ballad / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse) pp. - ; and text of _the ballad_ pp. - . the head-line is _axel thordson and fair valborg_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a to c (three sheets, each eight leaves) inset within each other. the last leaf of sig. c is a blank. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page axel thordson and fair valborg. [_at the wide board at tables play_] in some respects _axel thordson and fair valborg_ is the most ambitious of borrow's ballads. it is considerably the longest, unless we regard the four "_songs_" of which _marsk stig_ is comprised as forming one complete poem. but it is by no means the most successful; indeed it is invariably in his shorter ballads that we find borrow obtaining the happiest result. two manuscripts of _axel thordson and fair valborg_ are available. the first was prepared in for the _songs of scandinavia_. the second was revised in for the _koempe viser_. this later manuscript is in my own possession. i give herewith a reduced facsimile of one of its pages. there is a copy of _axel thordson and fair valborg_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. .d. . [picture: axel thordson and fair valborg-- ] ( ) [king hacon's death: ] king hacon's death / and / bran and the black dog / two ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _two ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. following p. is a leaf, with blank reverse, and with the following imprint upon its recto, "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." there are no signatures, the pamphlet being composed of a single sheet, folded to form sixteen pages. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page king hacon's death. ["_and now has happened in our day_"] bran and the black dog. ["_the day we went to the hills to chase_"] i venture to regard this ballad of the fight between bran and the black dog as one of borrow's happiest efforts. here are some of its vigorous stanzas: _the valiant finn arose next day_, _just as the sun rose above the foam_; _and he beheld up the lairgo way_, _a man clad in red with a black dog come_. _he came up with a lofty gait_, _said not for shelter he sought our doors_; _and wanted neither drink nor meat_, _but would match his dog_ '_gainst the best of ours_. * * * * * "_a strange fight this_," _the great finn said_, _as he turn'd his face towards his clan_; _then his face with rage grew fiery red_, _and he struck with his fist his good dog bran_. "_take off from his neck the collar of gold_, _not right for him now such a thing to bear_; _and a free good fight we shall behold_ _betwixt my dog and his black compeer_." _the dogs their noses together placed_, _then their blood was scatter'd on every side_; _desperate the fight_, _and the fight did last_ '_till the brave black dog in bran's grip died_. * * * * * _we went to the dwelling of high mac cuol_, _with the king to drink_, _and dice_, _and throw_; _the king was joyous_, _his hall was full_, _though empty and dark this night i trow_. there is a copy of _king hacon's death and bran and the black dog_ in the library of the british museum. the pressmark is c. . d. . ( ) [marsk stig's daughters: ] marsk stig's / daughters / and other / songs and ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse), pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse), pp. - ; table of _contents_, pp. - ; and text of the _songs and ballads_, pp. - . the reverse of p. is blank. the head-line is _songs and ballads_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. the pamphlet concludes with a leaf, with blank reverse, and with the following imprint upon its recto: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." there are no signatures, but the pamphlet consists of a half-sheet (of four leaves), with a full sheet (of eight leaves) inset within it. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page marsk stig's daughters. [_two daughters fair the marshal had_] the three expectants. [_there are three for my death that now pine_] translation. [_one summer morn_, _as i was seeking_] the english gipsy: he. [_as i to the town was going one day_ _my roman lass i met by the way_] she. [_as i to the town was going one day_ _i met a young roman upon the way_] the first of these two stanzas had been printed previously in _romano lavo-lil_, , p. . gipsy song. [_up_, _up_, _brothers_] the first stanza of this _song_ was printed previously (under the title _run for it_!) in _romano lavo-lil_, , p. . our heart is heavy, brother. [_the strength of the ox_] another version of this poem was printed previously (under the title _sorrowful tears_, and with an entirely different text) in _romano lavo-lil_, , p. . in order to give some clear idea of the difference between the two versions, i quote the opening stanza of each: . _the wit and the skill_ _of the father of ill_, _who's clever indeed_, _if they would hope_ _with their foes to cope_ _the romany need_. . _the strength of the ox_, _the wit of the fox_, _and the leveret's speed_; _all_, _all to oppose_ _their numerous foes_ _the romany need_. song. [_nastrond's blazes_] another version of this _song_ was printed previously (divided up, and with many textual variations) in _the death of balder_, , pp. - . lines. [_to read the great mysterious past_] as a specimen of borrow's lighter lyrical verse, as distinguished from his ballads, i give the text of the _translation_ noted above, accompanied by a facsimile of the first page of the ms.: translation. one summer morn, as i was seeking my ponies in their green retreat, i heard a lady sing a ditty to me which sounded strangely sweet: _i am the ladye_, _i am the ladye_, _i am the ladye loving the knight_; _i in the green wood_, '_neath the green branches_, _in the night season sleep with the knight_. since yonder summer morn of beauty i've seen full many a gloomy year; but in my mind still lives the ditty that in the green wood met my ear: _i am the ladye_, _i am the ladye_, _i am the ladye loving the knight_; _i in the green wood_, '_neath the green branches_, _in the night season sleep with the knight_. a second manuscript of this _translation_ has the 'ditty' arranged in eight lines, instead of in four. in this ms. the word _ladye_ is spelled in the conventional manner: _i am the lady_, _i am the lady_, _i am the lady_ _loving the knight_; _i in the greenwood_, '_neath the green branches_, _through the night season_ _sleep with the knight_. _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _marsk stig's daughters and other songs and ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of marsk stig's daughters] [picture: manuscript 'one summer morn'] ( ) [the tale of brynild: ] the tale of brynild / and / king valdemar and his sister / two ballads / by / george borrow / london: printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page as above (with a notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), and b and c (two sheets, each eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the tale of brynild. [_sivard he a colt has got_] of _the tale of brynild_, two manuscripts are extant, written in and respectively. the text of the latter, from which the ballad was printed in the present pamphlet, is immeasurably the superior. king valdemar and his sister. [_see_, _see_, _with queen sophy sits valdemar bold_] mirror of cintra. [_tiny fields in charming order_] the harp. [_the harp to everyone is dear_] there can be little doubt that the series of poems included in this volume present borrow at his best as a writer of ballads. there is a copy of _the tale of brynild and king valdemar and his sister_ in the library of the british museum. the pressmark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of the tale of brynild] ( ) [proud signild: ] proud signild / and / other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation: square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (six leaves), and b (a full sheet of eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page proud signild. [_proud signild's bold brothers have taken her hand_] the damsel of the wood. [_the knight takes hawk_, _and the man takes hound_] damsel mettie. [_knights peter and olaf they sat o'er the board_] as is the case with quite a number of borrow's ballads, two manuscripts of _damsel mettie_ have been preserved. the earlier, composed not later than , is written upon paper water marked with the date ; the later is written upon paper water-marked . the earlier version has a refrain, "'_neath the linden tree watches the lord of my heart_," which is wanting in the later. otherwise the text of both mss. is identical, the differences to be observed between them being merely verbal. for example, the seventh couplet in the earlier reads: _i'll gage my war courser_, _the steady and tried_, _that thou canst not obtain the fair mettie_, _my bride_. in the later ms. this couplet reads: _i'll gage my war courser_, _the steady and tried_, _thou never canst lure the fair mettie_, _my bride_. there is a copy of _proud signild and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . ( ) [ulf van yern: ] ulf van yern / and / other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page (with notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), b (a half-sheet of four leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), all inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page ulf van yern. [_it was youthful ulf van yern_] this ballad was here printed from the manuscript prepared for the projected _koempe viser_ of . in the ms of the ballad is entitled _ulf van yern and vidrik verlandson_. the texts of the two versions differ widely in almost every stanza. the chosen knight. [_sir oluf rode forth over hill and lea_] sir swerkel. [_there's a dance in the hall of sir swerkel the childe_] finn and the damsel, or the trial of wits. ["_what's rifer than leaves_?" _finn cried_] epigrams by carolan: . on friars. [_would'st thou on good terms with friars live_] . on a surly butler, who had refused him admission to the cellar. [_o dermod flynn it grieveth me_] lines. [_how deadly the blow i received_] the last four lines of this poem had already served (but with a widely different text) as the last four lines of the _ode from the gaelic_, printed in _romantic ballads_, , pp - . there is a copy of _ulf van yern and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of damsel mattie] [picture: manuscript of sir swerkel] ( ) [ellen of villenskov: ] ellen of villenskov / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. following p. is a leaf, with blank reverse, and with the following imprint upon its recto: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), with b (a full sheet of eight leaves) inset within it. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page ellen of villenskov. [_there lies a wold in vester haf_] uranienborg. [_thou who the strand dost wander_] previously printed, with an earlier and far inferior text, under the title _the ruins of uranienborg_, in _the foreign quarterly review_. _june_, , pp. - . the ready answer. [_the brother to his dear sister spake_] epigrams: . _there's no living_, _my boy_, _without plenty of gold_ . _o think not you'll change what on high is designed_ . _load not thyself with gold_, _o mortal man_, _for know_ note.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. the manuscripts of the poems included in _ellen of villenskov and other ballads_ are in the library of mr. clement k. shorter. there is a copy of _ellen of villenskov and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . ( ) [the songs of ranild: ] the songs of ranild / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the poems pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular poem occupying it. following p. is a leaf, with a notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse, and with the following imprint upon its recto: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (six leaves), and b (a full sheet of eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the songs of ranild: song the first. [_up riber's street the dance they ply_] song the second. [_to saddle his courser ranild cried_] song the third. [_so wide around the tidings bound_] child stig and child findal. [_child stig and child findal two brothers were they_] _the songs of ranild_ were first written in , and were finally prepared for press in . i give herewith, facing p. , a facsimile, the exact size of the original, of the first page of the first draft of _song the third_. the complete ms. from which these four ballads were printed is in the library of mr. j. a. spoor, of chicago. there is a copy of _the songs of ranild_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of songs relating to marsk stig] ( ) [niels ebbesen: ] niels ebbesen / and / germand gladenswayne / two ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page as above (with notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a and b (two sheets, each eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page niels ebbesen. [_all his men the count collects_] germand gladenswayne. [_our king and queen sat o'er the board_] there is a copy of _niels ebbesen and germand gladenswayne_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of niels ebbesen] ( ) [child maidelvold: ] child maidelvold / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), b (a half-sheet of four leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page child maidelvold. [_the fair sidselil_, _of all maidens the flower_] another, but widely different and altogether inferior, version of this beautiful and pathetic ballad--one of borrow's best--was printed (under the title _skion middel_) in _the monthly magazine_, _november_, , p. ; and again (under the amended title _sir middel_, and with a slightly revised text) in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . in these earlier versions the name of the heroine is swanelil in place of sidselil, and that of the hero is sir middel in place of child maidelvold. sir peter. [_sir peter and kirstin they sat by the board_] ingefred and gudrune. [_ingefred and gudrune they sate in their bower_] sir ribolt. [_ribolt the son of a count was he_] as a further example of these ballads i give _ingefred and gudrune_ in full. _ingefred and gudrune_ { } _ingefred and gudrune they sate in their bower_, _each bloomed a beauteous fragrant flower_-- _so sweet it is in summer tide_! _a working the gold fair ingefred kept_, _still sate gudrune_, _and bitterly wept_. "_dear sister gudrune so fain i'd know_ _why down thy cheek the salt tears flow_?" "_cause enough have i to be thus forlorn_, _with a load of sorrow my heart is worn_. "_hear_, _ingefred_, _hear what i say to thee_, _wilt thou to-night stand bride for me_? "_if bride for me thou wilt stand to-night_, _i'll give thee my bridal clothes thee to requite_. "_and more_, _much more to thee i'll give_, _all my bride jewels thou shalt receive_." "_o_, _i will not stand for bride in thy room_, _save i also obtain thy merry bridegroom_." "_betide me whatever the lord ordain_, _from me my bridegroom thou never shalt gain_." _in silks so costly the bride they arrayed_, _and unto the kirk the bride they conveyed_. _in golden cloth weed the holy priest stands_, _he joins of gudrune and samsing the hands_. _o'er the downs and green grass meadows they sped_, _where the herdsman watched his herd as it fed_. "_of thy beauteous self_, _dear damsel_, _take heed_, _ne'er enter the house of sir samsing_, _i rede_. "_sir samsing possesses two nightingales_ _who tell of the ladies such wondrous tales_. "_with their voices of harmony they can declare_ _whether maiden or none has fallen to his share_." _the chariot they stopped in the green wood shade_, _an exchange_ '_twixt them of their clothes they made_. _they change of their dress whatever they please_, _their faces they cannot exchange with ease_. _to sir samsung's house the bride they conveyed_, _of the ruddy gold no spare was made_. _on the bridal throne the bride they plac'd_, _they skinked the mead for the bride to taste_. _then said from his place the court buffoon_: "_methinks thou art ingefred_, _not gudrune_." _from off her hand a gold ring she took_, _which she gave the buffoon with entreating look_. _said he_: "_i'm an oaf_, _and have drunk too hard_, _to words of mine pay no regard_." '_twas deep at night_, _and down fell the mist_, _to her bed the young bride they assist_. _sir samsing spoke to his nightingales twain_: "_before my young bride sing now a strain_. "_a song now sing which shall avouch_ _whether i've a maiden or none in my couch_." "_a maid's in the bed_, _that's certain and sure_, _gudrune is standing yet on the floor_." "_proud ingefred_, _straight from my couch retire_! _gudrune come hither_, _or dread my ire_! "_now tell me_, _gudrune_, _with open heart_, _what made thee from thy bed depart_?" "_my father_, _alas_! _dwelt near the strand_, _when war and bloodshed filled the land_. "_full eight there were broke into my bower_, _one only ravished my virgin flower_." _upon her fair cheek he gave a kiss_: "_my dearest_, _my dearest_, _all sorrow dismiss_; "_my swains they were that broke into thy bower_, '_twas i that gathered thy virgin flower_." _fair ingefred gained_, _because bride she had been_, _one of the king's knights of handsome mien_. there is a copy of _child maidelvold and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of child maidelvold] [picture: manuscript of ingefred and gudrune] ( ) [ermeline: ] ermeline / a ballad / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the poems pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular poem occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_ / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), and b (a full sheet of eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page ermeline. [_with lance upraised so haughtily_] the paper upon which the manuscript of _ermeline_ is written is water-marked with the date . no other ms. is forthcoming. the cuckoo's song in merion. [_though it has been my fate to see_] the fifth stanza of this _song_ was printed by borrow in _wild wales_, , vol. i, p. . the two versions of this stanza offer some interesting variations of text; i give them both: _full fair the gleisiad in the flood_, _which sparkles_ '_neath the summer's sun_, _and fair the thrush in green abode_ _spreading his wings in sportive fun_, _but fairer look if truth be spoke_, _the maids of county merion_. _o fair the salmon in the flood_, _that over golden sands doth run_; _and fair the thrush in his abode_, _that spreads his wings in gladsome fun_; _more beauteous look_, _if truth be spoke_, _the maids of county merion_. there is a copy of _ermeline a ballad_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page for giant of bern] ( ) [the giant of bern: ] the giant of bern / and orm ungerswayne / a ballad / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. ; consisting of half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballad_ pp. - . the head-line is _the giant of bern_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." there are no signatures, the pamphlet being composed of a single sheet, folded to form sixteen pages. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the giant of bern and orme ungerswayne. [_it was the lofty jutt of bern_, _o'er all the walls he grew_] fifteen stanzas, descriptive of the incident of orm's obtaining his father's sword from the dead man's grave, were printed in _targum_, , pp. - , under the title _birting_. _a fragment_. the text differs greatly in the two versions, that of the later (which, though not printed until , was written about ) is much the superior. as an example i give the first two stanzas of each version: _it was late at evening tide_, _sinks the day-star in the wave_, _when alone orm ungarswayne_ _rode to seek his father's grave_. _late it was at evening hour_, _when the steeds to streams are led_; _let me now_, _said orm the young_, _wake my father from the dead_. _it was so late at evening tide_, _the sun had reached the wave_, _when orm the youthful swain set out_ _to seek his father's grave_. _it was the hour when grooms do ride_ _the coursers to the rill_, _that orm set out resolved to wake_ _the dead man in the hill_. there is a copy of _the giant of bern and orm ungerswayne_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . ( ) [little engel: ] little engel / a ballad / with a series of / epigrams from the persian / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballad_ and _epigrams_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular poem occupying it--save for pp. - , which are headed _epigrams_. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (six leaves), and b (a full sheet of eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page little engel. [_it was the little engel_, _he_] an elegy. [_where shall i rest my hapless head_] epigrams. from the persian: . [_hear what once the pigmy clever_] . [_the man who of his words is sparing_] . [_if thou would'st ruin_ '_scape_, _and blackest woe_] . [_sit down with your friends in delightful repose_] . [_the hungry hound upon the bone will pounce_] . [_great aaroun is dead_, _and is nothing_, _the man_] . [_though god provides our daily bread_] . the king and his followers. [_if in the boor's garden the king eats a pear_] . the devout man and the tyrant. [_if the half of a loaf the devout man receives_] . the cat and the beggar. [_if a cat could the power of flying enjoy_] . the king and taylor. [_the taylor who travels in far foreign lands_] . gold coin and stamped leather. [_of the children of wisdom how like is the face_] . [_so much like a friend with your foe ever deal_] the manuscript of these _epigrams_ bears instructive evidence of the immense amount of care and labour expended by borrow upon his metrical compositions. reduced facsimiles of two of the pages of this manuscript are given herewith. it will be observed that a full page and a half are occupied by the thirteenth _epigram_, at which borrow made no fewer than seven attempts before he succeeded in producing a version which satisfied him. the completed _epigram_ is as follows:-- _so much like a friend with your foe ever deal_, _that you never need dread the least scratch from his steel_; _but ne'er with your friend deal so much like a foe_, _that you ever must dread from his faulchion a blow_. the original manuscript of _little engel_, written in , is in the library of mr. edmund gosse. the manuscript of , from which the ballad was printed, is in my own library. there is a copy of _little engel_, _a ballad_, &c., in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of little engel] ( ) [alf the freebooter: ] alf the freebooter / little danneved and / swayne trost / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are headlines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint, "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of leaves), b (a half-sheet of leaves), and _c_ (a full sheet of leaves), all inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page sir alf the freebooter. [_sir alf he is an atheling_.] little danneved and swayne trost. ["_o what shall i in denmark do_?"] sir pall, sir bear, and sir liden. [_liden he rode to the ting_, _and shewed_] belardo's wedding. [_from the banks_, _in mornings beam_] the yew tree. [_o tree of yew_, _which here i spy_] two earlier versions of this ode were printed by borrow in _wild wales_, vol. iii, pp. and . the texts of all three versions differ very considerably. there is a copy of _alf the freebooter and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of epigrams] [picture: manuscript of epigrams] ( ) [king diderik: ] king diderik / and the fight between the / lion and dragon / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint, "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of leaves), b (a half-sheet of leaves), and c (a full sheet of leaves), all inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page king diderik and the lion's fight with the dragon. [_from bern rode forth king diderik_] there exists a single leaf of an early draft of another, entirely different, version of this ballad. upon the opposite page is a facsimile, the exact size of the original, of this fragment. diderik and olger the dane. [_with his eighteen brothers diderik stark_] olger the dane and burman. [_burman in the mountain holds_] the complete manuscript of _king diderik_, _&c._, _and other ballads_, as prepared for the _songs of scandinavia_ of , is preserved in the british museum. there is a copy of _king diderik and the fight between the lion and dragon_, _&c._ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: king diderik--early draft] ( ) [the nightingale: ] the nightingale / the valkyrie and raven / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n. w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of leaves), b (a half-sheet of leaves), and c (a full sheet of leaves), all inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the nightingale, or the transformed damsel. [_i know where stands a castellaye_] the valkyrie and raven. [_ye men wearing bracelets_] previously printed in _once a week_, _august_ _nd_, , pp. - , where the ballad was accompanied by a full-page illustration engraved upon wood. [_see post_, pp. - .] erik emun and sir plog. [_early at morn the lark sang gay_] the elves. [_take heed_, _good people_, _of yourselves_] there are two manuscripts of _the elves_ available. so far as the body of the poem is concerned the texts of these are identical, the fifth line alone differing materially in each. this line, as printed, reads: _the lass he woo' d_, _her promise won_. in the earlier of the two mss. it reads: _inflamed with passion her he woo'd_. a cancelled reading of the same ms. runs: _whom when he saw the peasant woo'd_. but the ballad is furnished with a repeated refrain. this refrain in the printed version reads: _take heed_, _good people_, _of yourselves_; _and oh_! _beware ye of the elves_. in the earlier ms. the refrain employed is: '_tis wonderful the lord can brook_ _the insolence of the fairy folk_! a reduced facsimile of the first page of the later ms. will be found facing the present page. the entire poem should be compared with _the elf bride_, printed in _the brother avenged and other ballads_, , pp. - . feridun. [_no face of an angel could feridun claim_] epigrams: . [_a worthless thing is song_, _i trow_] . [_though pedants have essayed to hammer_] . [_when of yourself you have cause to speak_] _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _the nightingale_, _the valkyrie and raven_, _and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of the elves] ( ) [grimmer and kamper: ] grimmer and kamper / the end of sivard snarenswayne / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are headlines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n. w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of leaves), b (a half-sheet of leaves), and c (a full-sheet of leaves), all inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page grimmer and kamper. [_grimmer walks upon the floor_] mimmering tan. [_the smallest man was mimmering_] the end of sivard snarenswayne. [_young sivard he his step-sire slew_] the two manuscripts, belonging to the years and respectively, of this ballad exhibit very numerous differences of text. as a brief, but sufficient, example i give the second stanza as it occurs in each: _it was sivard snareswayne_ [sic] _to his mother's presence hied_: "_say_, _shall i go from thee on foot_, _or_, _tell me_, _shall i ride_?" _it was sivard snarenswayne_ _to his mother's presence strode_: "_say_, _shall i ride from hence_?" _he cried_, "_or wend on foot my road_?" sir guncelin's wedding. [_it was the count sir guncelin_] epigrams: honesty. [_no wonder honesty's a lasting article_] a politician. [_he served his god in such a fashion_] the candle. [_for foolish pastimes oft_, _full oft_, _they thee ignite_] epigram on himself. by wessel [_he ate_, _and drank_, _and slip-shod went_] there is a copy of _grimmer and kamper_, _the end of sivard snarenswayne_, _and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of sir guncelin's wedding] ( ) [the fountain of maribo: ] the / fountain of maribo / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; frontispiece (with blank recto) pp. - ; title-page (with notice regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), b (a half-sheet of four leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. the frontispiece is a reduced facsimile of the first page of the original manuscript of _ramund_. _contents_. page the fountain of maribo, or the queen and the algreve. [_the algreve he his bugle wound_] of _the fountain of maribo_ there are two manuscripts available, one written in and the other in . the text of these differs appreciably, that of the second being as usual the superior. here are some stanzas from each version: the algreve he his bugle wound, _the longest night_. the queen in her bower heard the sound _love me doth thrall_. the queen her little foot boy address'd: _the longest night_. "go, come to me hither the algreve request." _love me doth thrall_. in came the algrave, 'fore the board stood he: "what wilt thou my queen that thou'st sent for me?" "if i survive when my lord is dead, thou shall rule o'er my gold so red." the algreve he his bugle wound _the long night all_-- the queen in bower heard the sound, _i'm passion's thrall_. the queen her little page address'd, _the long night all_-- "to come to me the greve request," _i'm passion's thrall_. he came, before the board stood he, _the long night all_-- "wherefore, o queen, hast sent for me?" _i'm passion's thrall_, "as soon as e'er my lord is dead, _the long night all_-- thou shall rule o'er my gold so red," _i'm passion's thrall_. ramund. [_ramund thought he should a better man be_] a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of _ramund_ faces the present page. alf of odderskier. [_alf he dwells at odderskier_] there is a copy of _the fountain of maribo and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of ramund] ( ) [queen berngerd: ] queen berngerd / the bard and the dreams / and / other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; frontispiece (with blank recto) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are headlines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a and b (two sheets each eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. the frontispiece consists of a reduced facsimile of the original manuscript, in borrow's handwriting, of _the bard and the dreams_. _contents_. page queen berngerd. [_long ere the sun the heaven arrayed_] dame martha's fountain. [_dame martha dwelt at karisegaard_] previously printed (with some small differences of text) in _the foreign quarterly review_, june , p. . the bard and the dreams. [_o'er the sweet smelling meads with his lyre in his hand_] king oluf the saint. [_king oluf and his brother bold_] previously printed (with some slight differences of text) in _the foreign quarterly review_, _june_ , pp. - . to scribblers. [_would it not be more dignified_] this delightful squib, here first printed, was written by borrow upon the refusal by lockhart to insert in _the quarterly review_ borrow's essay suggested by ford's _handbook for travellers in spain_, , in the unmutilated and unamended form in which the author had written it.--[see _ante_, no. .] to a conceited woman. [_be still_, _be still_, _and speak not back again_] _note_.--each poem, to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _queen berngerd_, _the bard and the dreams_, _and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of the bard and the dreams] [picture: title page of finnish arts] ( ) [finnish arts: ] finnish arts / or / sir thor and damsel thure / a ballad / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; frontispiece (with blank recto), pp. - ; title-page, as above (with notice regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), b (a half-sheet of four leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. the frontispiece is a reduced facsimile of the first page of the original manuscript of _finnish arts_, _or sir thor and damsel thure_. _contents_. page finnish arts, or, sir thor and damsel thure. [_sir thor was a knight of prowess tried_] a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of _finnish arts_ will be found facing the present page. a new song to an old tune. [_who starves his wife_] ode from anacreon. [_the earth to drink does not disdain_] lines from the italian. ["_repent_, _o repent_!" _said a friar one day_] a drinking song. [_o how my breast is glowing_] there is a copy of _finnish arts_, _or sir thor and damsel thure_ in the library of the british museum. the pressmark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of finnish arts] ( ) [brown william: ] brown william / the power of the harp / and / other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with notice regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_ / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a and b (two sheets, each eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page brown william. [_let no one in greatness too confident be_] previously printed in _once a week_, _january_ _th_, , pp. - . the power of the harp. [_sir peter would forth from the castle ride_] a reduced facsimile of one of the pages of the manuscript of _the power of the harp_ will be found facing herewith. the unfortunate marriage. [_hildebrand gave his sister away_] the wrestling-match. [_as one day i wandered lonely_, _in extreme distress of mind_] the warrior. from the arabic. [_thou lov'st to look on myrtles green_] _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _brown william_, _the power of the harp_, _and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of the power of the harp] ( ) [the song of deirdra: ] the song of deirdra / king byrge and his brothers / and / other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular ballad occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), b (a half-sheet of four leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), all inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the song of deirdra. [_farewell_, _grey albyn_, _much loved land_] the diver. [_where is the man who will dive for his king_] previously printed in _the new monthly magazine_, vol. vii., , pp. - . king byrge and his brothers. [_dame ingeborg three brave brothers could boast_] turkish hymn to mahomet. [_o envoy of allah_, _to thee be salaam_] _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _the song of deirdra_, _king byrge and his brothers_, _and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: title page of king byrge] ( ) [signelil: ] signelil / a tale from the cornish / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page (with notice regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), b (a half-sheet of four leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), all inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page signelil. [_the lady her handmaid to questioning took_] a tale from the cornish. [_in lavan's parish once of yore_] previously printed, with some trifling inaccuracies, in knapp's _life_, _writings_, _and correspondence of george borrow_, , vol. ii, pp. - . sir verner and dame ingeborg. [_in linholm's house_ _the swains they were drinking and making carouse_] the heddeby spectre. [_at evening fall i chanced to ride_] an earlier, and utterly different, version of this ballad was printed (under the tentative title _the heddybee-spectre_) in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . borrow afterwards described this earlier version as "a paraphrase." from goudeli. [_yestere'en when the bat_, _and the owl_, _and his mate_] peasant songs of spain: . [ _when jesu our redeemer_] . [_there stands a stone_, _a rounded stone_] _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _signelil_, _a tale from the cornish_, _and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of signelil] ( ) [young swaigder: ] young swaigder / or / the force of runes / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a notice regarding the american copyright upon the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), b (a half-sheet of four leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page young swaigder, or the force of runes. [_it was the young swaigder_] the hail storm. [_as in horunga haven_] previously printed in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . again printed in _targum_, , pp. - . in each instance the text varied very considerably. the present version was written about , and represents the text as borrow finally left it. i quote the first stanza of each version. it will be seen that the revision was progressive. _when from our ships we bounded_, _i heard_, _with fear astounded_, _the storm of thorgerd's waking_; _with flinty masses blended_, _gigantic hail descended_, _and thick and fiercely rattled_ _against us there embattled_. _for victory as we bounded_, _i heard_, _with fear astounded_, _the storm_, _of thorgerd's waking_, _from northern vapours breaking_. _sent by the fiend in anger_, _with din and stunning clangour_, _to crush our might intended_, _gigantic hail descended_. _as in horunga haven_ _we fed the crow and raven_, _i heard the tempest breaking_, _of demon thorgerd's waking_; _sent by the fiend in anger_, _with din and stunning clangor_, _to crush our might intended_, _gigantic hail descended_. another translation of the same ballad, extending to lines, was printed in _once a week_, , vol. viii, p. , under the title _the hail-storm_; _or_, _the death of bui_. rosmer mereman. [_in denmark once a lady dwelt_] this ballad should be read in conjunction with _rosmer_, printed in _the mermaid's prophecy_, _and other songs relating to queen dagmar_, , pp. - . the wicked stepmother. no. ii. [_sir peter o'er to the island strayed_--] this ballad should be compared with _the wicked stepmother_, printed in _the dalby bear and other ballads_, , pp. - . _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _young swaigder or the force of runes and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum the press-mark is c. . d. . ( ) [emelian the fool: ] emelian the fool / a tale / translated from the russian / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; _introduction_ pp. - ; and text of the _tale_ pp. - . the reverse of p. is blank. the head-line is _emelian the fool_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. the pamphlet is concluded by a leaf, with blank reverse, carrying the following imprint upon its recto: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of leaves), plus b and c ( sheets, each leaves), inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x inches. thirty copies only were printed. _emelian the fool_ first appeared in _once a week_, vol. vi, _march_ _th_, , pp. - , where it formed the first of a series of three _russian popular tales_, in prose, translated by george borrow. the _tale_ was also included in _the avon booklet_, vol. ii, , pp. - . there is a copy of _emelian the fool_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . e. ( ). ( ) [the story of tim: ] the story of tim / translated from the russian / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page as above (with blank reverse) pp. - ; _introduction_ p. ; and text of the _story_ pp. - . the head-line is _the story of tim_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a and b (two sheets, each eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x inches. thirty copies only were printed. _the story of tim_ first appeared in _once a week_, vol. vii, _october_ _th_, , pp. - , where it formed the third of a series of _russian popular tales_, in prose, translated by george borrow. the _story_ was also included in _the avon booklet_, vol. ii, , pp. - . there is a copy of _the story of tim_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . e. ( ). [picture: title page of the story of tim] ( ) [mollie charane: ] mollie charane / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with notice regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are headlines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), b (a half-sheet of four leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page mollie charane. [_o_, _mollie charane_, _where got you your gold_?] previously printed in _once a week_, vol. vi, , pp. - . the danes of yore. [_well we know from saga_] a survey of death. [_my blood is freezing_, _my senses reel_] another version of this poem was printed in _the monthly magazine_, vol. lvi, , p. ; and reprinted (with some small textual variations) in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . as the poem is a short one, and as the two versions afford a happy example of the drastic changes borrow introduced into his text when revising his ballads, i give them both in full: _perhaps_ '_tis folly_, _but still i feel_ _my heart-strings quiver_, _my senses reel_, _thinking how like a fast stream we range_, _nearer and nearer to life's dread change_, _when soul and spirit filter away_, _and leave nothing better than senseless clay_. _yield_, _beauty_, _yield_, _for the grave does gape_, _and_, _horribly alter'd_, _reflects thy shape_; _for_, _oh_! _think not those childish charms_ _will rest unrifled in his cold arms_; _and think not there_, _that the rose of love_ _will bloom on thy features as here above_. _let him who roams at vanity fair_ _in robes that rival the tulip's glare_, _think on the chaplet of leaves which round_ _his fading forehead will soon be bound_, _and on each dirge the priests will say_ _when his cold corse is borne away_, _let him who seeketh for wealth_, _uncheck'd_ _by fear of labour_, _let him reflect_ _that yonder gold will brightly shine_ _when he has perish'd_, _with all his line_; _tho' man may rave_, _and vainly boast_, _we are but ashes when at the most_. _my blood is freezing_, _my senses reel_, _so horror stricken at heart i feel_; _thinking how like a fast stream we range_ _nearer and nearer to that dread change_, _when the body becomes so stark and cold_, _and man doth crumble away to mould_. _boast not_, _proud maid_, _for the grave doth gape_, _and strangely altered reflects thy shape_; _no dainty charms it doth disclose_, _death will ravish thy beauty's rose_; _and all the rest will leave to thee_ _when dug thy chilly grave shall be_. _o_, _ye who are tripping the floor so light_, _in delicate robes as the lily white_, _think of the fading funeral wreath_, _the dying struggle_, _the sweat of death_-- _think on the dismal death array_, _when the pallid corse is consigned to clay_! _o_, _ye who in quest of riches roam_, _reflect that ashes ye must become_; _and the wealth ye win will brightly shine_ _when burried are ye and all your line_; _for your many chests of much loved gold_ _you'll nothing obtain but a little mould_. desiderabilia vitae. [_give me the haunch of a buck to eat_] previously printed, with a slightly different text, and arranged in six lines instead of in three four-line stanzas, in _lavengro_, , vol. i, p. . saint jacob. [_saint jacob he takes our blest lord by the hand_] the renegade. [_now pay ye the heed that is fitting_] previously printed, with some small differences of text, in _the talisman_, , pp. - . an impromptu. [_and darest thou thyself compare_] a hymn. [_o jesus_, _thou fountain of solace and gladness_] the transformed damsel. [_my father up of the country rode_] this ballad should be compared with _the cruel step-dame_, printed in _the serpent knight and other ballade_, , pp. - . also with _the transformed damsel_, printed in _the return of the dead and other ballads_, , pp. - . the actions described in the earlier stanzas follow closely those of the opening stanzas of _the cruel step-dame_; whilst the incident of the lover cutting a piece of flesh from his own breast to serve as bait to attract his mistress, who, in the form of a bird, is perched upon a branch of the tree above him, is common to both the _transformed damsel_ ballads. _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _mollie charane and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of the danes of yore] ( ) [grimhild's vengeance: ] grimhild's vengeance / three ballads / by / george borrow / edited / with an introduction / by / edmund gosse, c. b. / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; _introduction_ pp. - ; and text of the three _ballads_ pp. - . the head-line is _grimhild's vengeance_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), and b and c (two sheets, each eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page grimhild's vengeance. song the first. [_it was the proud dame grimhild prepares the mead and beer_] a reduced facsimile of page of the manuscript of this _song_ faces the present page. grimhild's vengeance. song the second. [_it was the proud dame grimhild the wine with spices blends_] grimhild's vengeance. song the third. [_o_, _where will ye find kempions so bold and strong of hand_] the introduction furnished by mr. edmund gosse to _grimhild's vengeance_ is undoubtedly by far the most illuminating and important contribution yet made to the critical study of borrow's ballads, a study which has hitherto been both meagre and inadequate. not only does mr. gosse handle the three _songs_ particularly before him, and make clear the relationship they bear to each other, but he deals with the whole subject of the origin of borrow's scandinavian ballads, and traces fully and precisely the immediate source from which their author derived them. one of borrow's most vivid records mr. gosse calls into question, and proves indisputably that it must henceforth be regarded, if not as a fiction, at least as one more result of borrow's inveterate habit of "drawing the long bow,"--to wit the passages in _lavengro_ wherein borrow recounts his acquisition of the "strange and uncouth-looking volume" at the price of a kiss from the yeoman's wife, and the purpose which that volume served him. of the first and second of the three ballads included in _grimhild's vengeance_ two manuscripts are available. the first of these was written in , and was intended to find a place in the _songs of scandinavia_ advertised at the close of that year. the second manuscript was written in , and was prepared for the projected volumes of _koempe viser_ of that date. of the third ballad there exists only a single manuscript, namely that produced in . apparently in borrow had relinquished all hope of publishing the _koempe viser_ before he had commenced work upon the third ballad. in the present volume the first two _songs_ were printed from the manuscripts of ; the third _song_ from the manuscript of . there is a copy of _grimhild's vengeance_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of grimhild's vengeance: song the first-- ] ( ) [letters to ann borrow: ] letters / to his mother / ann borrow / and other correspondents / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. ; consisting of half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a notice regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _letters_ pp. - . the head-line is _letters to his mother_ throughout, upon both sides of the page. following p. is a leaf, with blank recto, and with the following imprint upon the reverse: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), plus b and c (two sheets, each eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x inches. thirty copies only were printed. the series of letters contained in this volume were reprinted in _george borrow and his circle_. _by clement king shorter_, vo, . the whole of the holographs are in mr. shorter's possession. there is a copy of _letters to his mother_, _ann borrow_, in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . e. . ( ) [the brother avenged: ] the brother avenged / and / other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular ballad occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a and b (two sheets, each eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed _contents_. page the brother avenged. [_i stood before my master's board_] previously printed (with some textual variations) in _the foreign quarterly review_, vol. vi, _june_ , pp - . the eyes. { } [_to kiss a pair of red lips small_] harmodius and aristogiton. [_with the leaves of the myrtle i'll cover my brand_] my dainty dame. [_my dainty dame_, _my heart's delight_] grasach abo or the cause of grace. [_o_, _baillie na cortie_! _thy turrets are tall_] dagmar. [_sick in ribe dagmar's lying_] the elf bride. [_there was a youthful swain one day_] these stanzas should be compared with _the elves_, printed in _the nightingale_, _the valkyrie and raven_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . the treasure digger. [_o_, _would that with last and shoe i had stay'd_] the fisher. [_the fisherman saddleth his good winged horse_] the cuckoo. [_abiding an appointment made_] _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _the brother avenged and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of grasach abo] ( ) [the gold horns: ] the gold horns / translated by / george borrow / from the danish of / adam gottlob oehlenschlager / edited / with an introduction by / edmund gosse, c.b. / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; _introduction_ pp. - ; and text of _the gold horns_, the danish and english texts facing each other upon opposite pages, pp. - . the reverse of p. is blank. there are head-lines throughout, each recto being headed _the gold horns_, and each verso _guldhornene_. the book is completed by a leaf, with blank reverse, and with the following imprint upon its recto: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), b (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), each inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. although the poem was not printed until , it is quite evident that the translation was made by borrow in or about the year . the paper upon which the manuscript is written is watermarked with the date , whilst the handwriting coincides with that of several of the pieces included in the _romantic ballads of_ . "there can be little doubt," writes mr. gosse, "that borrow intended _the gold horns_ for that volume, and rejected it at last. he was conscious, perhaps, that his hand had lacked the skill needful to reproduce a lyric the melody of which would have taxed the powers of coleridge or of shelley." "_the gold horns_ marks one of the most important stages in the history of scandinavian literature. it is the earliest, and the freshest, specimen of the romantic revival in its definite form. in this way, it takes in danish poetry a place analogous to that taken by _the ancient mariner_ in english poetry. . . . "oehlenschlager has explained what it was that suggested to him the leading idea of his poem. two antique horns of gold, discovered some time before in the bogs of slesvig, had been recently stolen from the national collection at rosenberg, and the thieves had melted down the inestimable treasures. oehlenschlager treats these horns as the reward for genuine antiquarian enthusiasm, shown in a sincere and tender passion for the ancient relics of scandinavian history. from a generation unworthy to appreciate them, the _horns_ had been withdrawn, to be mysteriously restored at the due romantic hour."--[_from the introduction by edmund gosse_.] there is a copy of _the gold horns_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . ( ) [tord of hafsborough: ] tord of hafsborough / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. at the foot of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a and b (two sheets, each eight leaves), the one inset within the other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page tord of hafsborough. [_it was tord of hafsborough_] from the arabic. [_o thou who fain would'st wisdom gain_] thorvald. [_swayne tveskieg did a man possess_] previously printed in _the foreign quarterly review_, vol. vi, , p. . peter colbiornsen. ['_fore fredereksteen king carl he lay_] previously printed in _the foreign quarterly review_, vol. vi, , pp. - . kragelill. ['_twas noised about_, '_twas noised about_] allegast. [_the count such a store of gold had got_] epigrams: . [_assume a friend's face when a foeman you spy_] . [_the lion in woods finds prey of noble kind_] . [_though god provides our daily bread_] . [_to trust a man i never feel inclined_] . [_a hunter who was always seeking game_] . [_the plans of men of shrewdest wit_] . [_well was it said_, _long years ago_] . [_who roams the world by many wants beset_] it is probable that the whole of these eight _epigrams_ were derived by borrow from persian sources. on a young man with red hair. [_he is a lad of sober mind_] _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _tord of hafsborough and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . ( ) [the expedition to birting's land: ] the expedition to / birting's land / and other ballads / by / george borrow / london: / printed for private circulation / . collation:--square demy octavo, pp. ; consisting of: half-title (with blank reverse) pp. - ; title-page, as above (with a note regarding the american copyright upon the centre of the reverse) pp. - ; and text of the _ballads_ pp. - . there are head-lines throughout, each page being headed with the title of the particular _ballad_ occupying it. upon the reverse of p. is the following imprint: "_london_: / _printed for thomas j. wise_, _hampstead_, _n.w._ / _edition limited to thirty copies_." the signatures are a (a half-sheet of four leaves), b (a quarter-sheet of two leaves), and c (a full sheet of eight leaves), inset within each other. issued in bright green paper wrappers, with untrimmed edges, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. the leaves measure . x . inches. thirty copies only were printed. _contents_. page the expedition to birting's land. [_the king he o'er the castle rules_] of _the expedition to birting's land_ no less than three manuscripts are extant. the first was composed in , and was originally destined for inclusion in the _romantic ballads_ of that date. it is numbered to come between _the tournament_ and _vidrik verlandson_. the second was written in , and was intended to find a place in _the songs of scandinavia_. the third was prepared in , with a view to its appearance in the _koempe viser_. in the two earlier versions the ballad bears the tentative title _the expedition of king diderik's warriors to birting's land_. the texts of all three differ very considerably, the final version being that from which the ballad was here printed. the singing mariner. [_who will ever have again_] previously printed in _the monthly magazine_, vol. lvi, , p. . there exists an early manuscript of this charming lyric, differing entirely from the text as printed. this early version is written in couplets, instead of in four-line stanzas. here is the first stanza, followed by the equivalent couplet from the ms.: printed text. _who will ever have again_, _on the land or on the main_, _such a chance as happen'd to_ _count arnaldos long ago_. ms. _who had e'er such an adventure the ocean's waves upon_, _as had the count arnaldos the morning of st. john_. upon the opposite page i give a facsimile of this early manuscript, the exact size of the original. the tiny waif affords a delightful specimen of borrow's extremely beautiful and graceful minute handwriting, of which one or two other examples exist. the paper upon which the lines are written is evidently a leaf torn from a small note-book. youth's song in spring. [_o_, _scarcely is spring a time of pure bliss_] the nightingale. [_in midnight's calm hour the nightingale sings_] previously printed in _the monthly magazine_, vol. lvi, , p. . lines. [_say from what mine took love the yellow gold_] morning song. [_from eastern quarters now_] previously printed in _the foreign quarterly review_, vol. vi, , p. . from the french. [_this world by fools is occupied_] the morning walk. [_to the beech grove with so sweet an air_] previously printed in _the foreign quarterly review_, vol. vi, , pp. - . _note_.--each poem to which no reference is attached, appeared for the first time in this volume. there is a copy of _the expedition to birting's land and other ballads_ in the library of the british museum. the press-mark is c. . d. . [picture: manuscript of singing mariner] _part ii_. contributions to periodical literature, etc. ( ) _the new monthly magazine_, vol. vii, . pp. - . the diver, a ballad translated from the german. [_where is the man who will dive for his king_?] reprinted in the song of deirdra and other ballads, , pp. - . ( ) _the monthly magazine_, vol. lvi, . p. . ode to a mountain torrent. [_how lovely thou art in thy tresses of foam_] reprinted, with the text substantially revised, in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . again reprinted in _targum_, , pp. - . the majority of borrow's contributions to _the monthly magazine_ appeared under the signature '_george olaus borrow_.' dr. knapp has recorded that he found in the corporation library at norwich a book on ancient danish literature, by olaus wormius, carrying several marginal notes in borrow's handwriting. the suggestion that it was from this book that borrow derived the pseudonymous second christian name which he employed in _the monthly magazine_ is not an unreasonable one. p. . death. [_perhaps_ '_tis folly_, _but still i feel_] reprinted (under the amended title _thoughts on death_, and with some small textual variations) in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . another version of the same poem was printed (under the title _a survey of death_, the first line reading _my blood is freezing_, _my senses reel_) in _mollie charane and other ballads_, , pp. - . p. . mountain song. [_that pathway before ye_, _so narrow and gray_] pp. - . danish poetry and ballad writing. a prose essay, including, _inter alia_, the following ballad: skion middel. [_the maiden was lacing so tightly her vest_] reprinted, under the amended title _sir middel_, the first line reading "_so tightly was swanelil lacing her vest_," in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . another, but widely different, version of this ballad is printed in _child maidelvold and other ballads_, , pp. - . in this latter version the name of the heroine is sidselil in place of swanelil, and that of the hero is child maidelvold in place of sir middel. pp. - . lenora. [_when morning's gleam was on the hill_] p. . chloe. [_oh_! _we have a sister on earthly dominions_] reprinted in _targum_, , pp. - . when gathering _chloe_ into the pages of _targum_ borrow very considerably revised the text. here is the concluding stanza of each of the two versions:-- _but god shook his sceptre_, _and thunder'd appalling_, _while winds swept the branches with turbulent sigh_; _then trembled the host_, _but they heeded his calling_, _and bore the sweet maiden_, _yet praying_, _on high_. "_ah_, _we had a sister on earthly dominions_!" _all sung_, _as thro' heaven they joyously trod_, _and bore_, _with flush'd faces_, _and fluttering pinions_, _the yet-praying maid to the throne of her god_. _then frown'd the dread father_;_ his thunders appalling_ _to rattle began_, _and his whirlwinds to roar_; _then trembled the host_, _but they heeded his calling_, _and chloe up-snatching_, _to heaven they soar_. _o we had a sister on earthly dominions_! _they sang as through heaven triumphant they stray'd_, _and bore with flush'd faces and fluttering pinions_ _to god's throne of brightness the yet praying maid_. p. . sea-song. [_king christian stood beside the mast_] in and the title was changed to _national song_. borrow published no less than four versions of this _national song_: . in _the monthly magazine_, , p. , . in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - , . in the foreign quarterly review, , pp. - , . in _targum_, , pp. - . upon each occasion he practically rewrote the _song_, so that all four versions differ completely. as an illustration of these differences i give the first stanza of each version: . _king christian stood beside the mast_, _in smoke and flame_; _his heavy cannon rattled fast_ _against the gothmen_, _as they pass'd_: _then sunk each hostile sail and mast_ _in smoke and flame_. "_fly_, (_said the foe_,) _fly_, _all that can_, _for who with denmark's christian_ _will ply the bloody game_?" . _king christian stood beside the mast_ _smoke_, _mixt with flame_, _hung o'er his guns_, _that rattled fast_ _against the gothmen_, _as they passed_: _then sunk each hostile sail and mast_ _in smoke and flame_. "_fly_!"_ said the foe_: "_fly_! _all that can_, _nor wage_, _with denmark's christian_, _the dread_, _unequal game_." . _king christian by the main-mast stood_ _in smoke and mist_! _so pour'd his guns their fiery flood_ _that gothmen's heads and helmets bow'd_; _their sterns_, _their masts fell crashing loud_ _in smoke and mist_. "_fly_," _cried they_, "_let him fly who can_, _for who shall denmark's christian_ _resist_?" . _king christian stood beside the mast_ _in smoke and mist_. _his weapons_, _hammering hard and fast_, _through helms and brains of gothmen pass'd_. _then sank each hostile sail and mast_ _in smoke and mist_. "_fly_," _said the foe_, "_fly all that can_, _for who can denmark's christian_ _resist_?" p. . the erl king. [_who is it that gallops so lat on the wild_!] ( ) _the monthly magazine_, vol. lvii, . p. . bernard's address to his army. [_freshly blew the morning breeze_] p. . the singing mariner. [_who will ever have again_] reprinted in _the expedition to birting's land and other ballads_, , pp. - . p. . the french princess. [_towards france a maiden went_] p. . the nightingale. [_in midnight's calm hour the nightingale sings_] reprinted in _the expedition to birting's land and other ballads_, , pp. - . ( ) _the universal review_, vol. i, . p. . a review of _fortsetzung des faust von goethe_. _von c. c. l. schone_. (_berlin_.) p. . a review of _oelenschlager's samlede digte_. (_copenhagen_.) pp. - . a review of _narrative of a pedestrian journey through russia and siberian tartary_, _from the frontiers of china to the frozen sea_. _by capt. john dundas_, _r.n._ (_london_, .) ( ) _the monthly magazine_, vol. lviii, - . pp. - . danish traditions and superstitions. a prose essay. _part i_. including _inter alia_ the following ballad: waldemar's chase. [_late at eve they were toiling on harribee bank_] reprinted in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . p. . war-song; written when the french first invaded spain. [_arise_, _ye sons of injur'd spain_] p. . danish songs and ballads. no. , bear song. [_the squirrel that's sporting_] reprinted in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . pp. - . danish traditions and superstitions. a prose essay. _part ii_. ( ) _the monthly magazine_, vol. lix, . pp. - and - . danish traditions and superstitions. a prose essay. _parts iii and iv_. pp. - . the deceived merman. [_fair agnes left her mother's door_] reprinted (with very considerable changes in the text, the first line reading "_fair agnes alone on the sea-shore stood_") in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . in borrow rewrote this ballad, and furnished it with a new title _agnes and the merman_. the following stanzas taken from each, will serve to show the difference between the two versions:-- . _the merman up to the church door came_; _his eyes they shone like a yellow flame_; _his face was white_, _and his beard was green_-- _a fairer demon was never seen_. "_now_, _agnes_, _agnes_, _list to me_, _thy babes are longing so after thee_." "_i cannot come yet_, _here must i stay_ _until the priest shall have said his say_." . _in at the door the merman treads_-- _away the images turned their heads_. _his face was white_, _his beard was green_, _his eyes were full of love_, _i ween_. "_hear_, _agnes_, _hear_! _'tis time for thee_ _to come to thy home below the sea_." "_i cannot come yet_, _i here must stay_, _until the priest has said his say_." pp. , , and . danish traditions and superstitions. a prose essay. _parts v_, _vi_, _and vii_. ( ) _the monthly magazine_, vol. lx, . pp. - { } and - . danish traditions and superstitions. a prose essay. _parts viii and ix_. ( ) _the universal review_, vol. ii, . pp. - . a review of _the devil's elixir_; _from the german of hoffman_. (_london_, _cadell_, _vols_.) pp. - . a review of _danske folkesagn_, _samlede af j. m. thiele_. (_copenhagen_, - .) ( ) _the foreign quarterly review_, vol. vi, no. xi, _june_, , pp. - . a review of _dansk-norsk litteraturlexicon_, , and _den danske digtekunsts middelalder fra arrebo til tullin fremstillet i academiske foreloesinger holdne i aarene_, - . a long critical prose article by john bowring, including, _inter alia_, the following ballads by george borrow:-- . king oluf the saint. [_king oluf and his brother bold_] reprinted in _queen berngerd_, _the bard and the dreams_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . this is an entirely different ballad from that which had appeared, under the title _saint oluf_, in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . . the brother avenged. [_i stood before my master's board_] reprinted, with some textual variations, in _the brother avenged and other ballads_, , pp. - . . aager and eliza. ['_twas the valiant knight_, _sir aager_] previously printed, but with endless variations in the text, in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - , where the first line reads, "_have ye heard of bold sir aager_." as an example of the differences of text to be observed in the two versions, i give three stanzas of each: . _up his mighty limbs he gather'd_, _took the coffin on his back_; _and to fair eliza's bower_ _hasten'd_, _by the well-known track_. _on her chamber's lowly portal_, _with his fingers long and thin_, _thrice he tapp'd_, _and bade eliza_ _straightway let her bridegroom in_! _straightway answer'd fair eliza_, "_i will not undo my door_ _till i hear thee name sweet jesus_, _as thou oft hast done before_." . _up sir aager rose_, _his coffin_ _bore he on his bended back_. _tow'ds the bower of sweet eliza_ _was his sad and silent track_. _he the door tapp'd with his coffin_, _for his fingers had no skin_; "_rise_, _o rise_, _my sweet eliza_! _rise_, _and let thy bridegroom in_." _straightway answer'd fair eliza_: "_i will not undo my door_ '_till thou name the name of jesus_, _even as thou could'st before_." . morning song. [from eastern quarters now] reprinted in _the expedition to birting's land_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . . danish national song. [_king christian by the main-mast stood_] previously printed: . in _the monthly magazine_, vol. lvi, , p. . . in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - . afterwards reprinted in _targum_, , pp. - . . the seaman. [_a seaman with a bosom light_] . sir sinclair. [_sir sinclair sail'd from the scottish ground_] reprinted in _targum_, , pp. - . . thorvald. [_swayne tveskieg did a man possess_] reprinted in _tord of hafsborough and other ballads_, , pp. - . . when i was little. [_there was a time when i was very tiny_] . birth of christ. [_each spring_,--_when the mists have abandon'd the earth_] . time's perspective. [_through the city sped a youth_] . the morning walk. [_to the beach grove with so sweet an air_] reprinted in _the expedition to birting's land and other ballads_, , pp. - . . the aspen. [_what whispers so strange at the hour of midnight_] . dame martha's fountain. [_dame martha dwelt at karisegaard_] reprinted in _queen berngerd_, _the bard and the dreams_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . . peter colbiornsen. ['_fore fredereksteen king carl he lay_] reprinted in _tord of hafsborough and other ballads_, , pp. - . . the ruins of uranienborg. [_thou by the strand dost wander_] reprinted, but with much textual variation, in _ellen of villenskov and other ballads_, , pp. - . ( .) _the norfolk chronicle_, august _th_, . a note on "the origin of the word 'tory'." a short prose article, signed "_george borrow_," and dated "_norwich_, _august_ ." ( ) _the athenaeum_, _august_ , , pp. - . the gypsies in russia and in spain. two letters from borrow, giving an account of his experiences of the gypsies in russia and in spain. "all the episodes that he relates he incorporated in _the bible in spain_. the two letters plainly indicate that all the time borrow was in spain his mind was more filled with the subject of the gypsies than with any other question. he did his work well for the bible society no doubt . . . but there is a humourous note in the fact that borrow should have utilised his position as a missionary--for so we must count him--to make himself thoroughly acquainted with gypsy folklore, and gypsy songs and dances."--[shorter, _george borrow and his circle_, p. .] ( ) _the illustrated london news_, _december_ _th_, , p. . ancient runic stone, recently found in the isle of man. reprinted in _george borrow and his circle_, by clement king shorter, , pp. - . ( .) _a practical grammar of the antient gaelic_. by the rev. john kelly, ll.d. edited by the rev. william gill, vo, . p. xi. translation from the manx. [_and what is glory_, _but the radiance of a name_,--] borrow's statement in the closing paragraph (printed _post_, p. ) of his essay on _the welsh and their literature_ renders it possible to place this translation to his credit. p. xix. a letter from borrow to the editor, regarding manx ballads. ( ) _ the quarterly review_, _january_, , pp. - . the welsh and their literature. a prose essay. this essay was in fact a review, by borrow himself, of his own work _the sleeping bard_. "in the autumn [of ] borrow determined to call attention to it [_the sleeping bard_] himself. he revamped an old article he had written in , entitled _the welsh and their literature_, and sent it to mr. murray for _the quarterly review_. . . . the modern literature and things of wales were not introduced into the article . . . and it appeared anonymously in _the quarterly review_ for january, . it is in fact borrow's own (and the only) review of _the sleeping bard_, which, however, had the decisive result of selling off the whole edition in a month."--[knapp's _life and correspondence of george borrow_, , vol. ii, pp. - .] the manuscript of this essay, or review, is not at present forthcoming. but, fortunately, the ms. of certain paragraphs with which borrow brought the essay to a conclusion, and which the editor in the exercise of his editorial function quite properly struck out, have been preserved. the barefaced manner in which borrow anonymously praised and advertised his own work fully justified the editor's action. i print these paragraphs below. my principal reason for doing so is this, that the closing lines afford evidence of borrow's authorship of other portions of gill's introduction to his edition of _kelly's manx grammar_, , beyond those which until now have been attributed to his pen: "our having mentioned _the romany rye_ gives us an opportunity of saying a few words concerning that work, to the merits of which, and likewise to those of _lavengro_, of which it is the sequel, adequate justice has never been awarded. it is a truly remarkable book, abounding not only with strange and amusing adventure, but with deep learning communicated in a highly agreeable form. we owe it an _amende honorable_ for not having in our recent essay on buddhism quoted from it some remarkable passages on that superstition, which are to be found in a conversation between the hero of the tale and the man in black. never was the subject of buddhism treated in a manner so masterly and original. but the book exhibits what is infinitely more precious than the deepest learning, more desirable than the most amusing treasury of adventure, a fearless, honest spirit, a resolution to tell the truth however strange the truth may appear to the world. "a remarkable proof of this is to be found in what is said in it respecting the italians. it is all very well at the present day, after the miracles lately performed in italy by her sons, to say that italy is the land to which we must look for great men; that it is not merely the country of singers, fiddlers, _improvisatori_, and linguists, but of men, of beings who may emphatically be called men. but who, three or four years ago, would have ventured to say as much? why there was one and only one who ventured to say so, and that was george borrow in his work entitled _the romany rye_. many other things equally bold and true he has said in that work, and also in its predecessor _lavengro_. "in conclusion we wish to give mr. borrow a piece of advice, namely, that with all convenient speed he publish whatever works he has written and has not yet committed to the press. life is very precarious, and when an author dies, his unpublished writings are too frequently either lost to the world, or presented in a shape which all but stultifies them. of mr. borrow's unpublished writings there is a catalogue at the end of _the romany rye_, and a most remarkable catalogue it is, comprising works on all kinds of interesting subjects. of these, the one which we are most eager to see is that which is called _wild wales_, which we have no doubt whenever it appears will be welcomed as heartily as _the bible in spain_ was seventeen years ago, a book which first laid open the mysterious peninsula to the eyes of the world, and that the book on wales will be followed by the one which is called _wanderings in quest of manx literature_. now the title alone of that book is worth a library of commonplace works, for it gives the world an inkling of a thing it never before dreamed of, namely, that the little celtic isle of man has a vernacular literature. what a pity if the book itself should be eventually lost! here some person will doubtless exclaim, 'perhaps the title is all book, and there is no book behind it; what can mr. borrow know of manx literature?' stay, friend, stay! a manx grammar has just appeared, edited by a learned and highly respectable manx clergyman, in the preface to which are some beautiful and highly curious notices of manx vernacular gallic literature, which are, however, confessedly not written by the learned manx clergyman, nor by any other learned manxman, but by george borrow, an englishman, the author of _the bible in spain_ and _the romany rye_." a number of translations from welsh poetry were introduced by borrow into this essay. they were all, as he explained in a footnote, derived from his projected _songs of europe_. with the exception of an occasional stray couplet, or single line, the following list includes them all:-- . from iolo goch's "ode to the plough man." [_the mighty hu with mead would pay_] reprinted, with several changes in the text, in _wild wales_, , vol. iii, pp. - . a further extract from the same _ode_, "_if with small things we hu compare_" etc., is given in a footnote on p. . . saxons and britons. [_a serpent that coils_] reprinted (the first line reading _a serpent which coils_) in _wild wales_, , vol. i, p. . . the destiny of the britons. [_their lord they shall praise_] these lines were employed by borrow in the following year as a motto for the title-pages of _wild wales_. . from an ode on llywelyn, by dafydd benfras. [_llywelyn of the potent hand oft wroght_] . from an ode on the mansion of owen glendower, by iolo goch. [_its likeness now i'll limn you out_] . epigram on the rising of owen glendower. [_one thousand four hundred_, _no less and no more_] . from an ode to griffith ap nicholas, by gwilym ap ieuan hen. [_griffith ap nicholas_! _who like thee_] reprinted in _wild wales_, , vol. iii, p. . . epigram on a spider. [_from out its womb it weaves with care_] ( ) _once a week_, vol. vi, _january_ _th_, , pp. - . ballads of the isle of man. translated from the manx. by george borrow: . brown william. [_let no one in greatness too confident be_] reprinted in _mona miscellany_, , pp. - . again reprinted (with the prose introduction considerably curtailed) in _brown william_, _the power of the harp_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . . mollie charane. [_o_, _mollie charane_, _where got you your gold_?] reprinted in _mollie charane and other ballads_, , pp. - . ( ) _once a week_, vol. vi, _march_ _th_, , pp. - . emelian the fool. the first of a series of three _russian popular tales_, in prose, translated by george borrow. also printed privately in pamphlet form, as follows:-- _emelian the fool_ / _a tale_ / _translated from the russian_ / _by_ / _george borrow_ / _london_: / _printed for private circulation_ / .--crown octavo, pp. . [see _ante_, part i, no. .] the _tale_ was included in _the avon booklet_, vol. ii, , pp. - . borrow had projected a volume to contain a series of twelve _russian popular tales_, and this was included among the works advertised as "ready for the press" at the end of _the romany rye_. unfortunately the project failed to meet with success, and these three _tales_ were all that finally appeared. ( ) _once a week_, vol. vi, _may_ _th_, , pp. - . the story of yvashka with the bear's ear. the second of a series of _russian popular tales_, in prose, translated by george borrow. reprinted in _the sphere_, _february_ _st_, , p. . also printed privately in pamphlet form as follows:-- _the story_ / _of_ / _yvashka with the bear's ear_ / _translated from the russian_ / _by_ / _george borrow_ / _london_: / _printed for private circulation_ / . square demy octavo, pp. . [see _ante_, part i, no. .] the _story_ was also included in _the avon booklet_, vol. ii, , pp. - . ( ) _once a week_, vol. vii, _august_ _nd_, , pp. - . harald harfagr. a discourse between a valkyrie and a raven, &c. [_ye men wearing bracelets_] reprinted (under the amended title _the valkyrie and raven_) in _the nightingale_, _the valkyrie and raven_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . a prose introduction, which preceded the ballad in _once a week_, was not reprinted in _the nightingale_, _the valkyrie and raven_, _and other ballads_. a facsimile (actual size) of a page of the original manuscript is given herewith. in _once a week_ this ballad was accompanied by an illustration, engraved upon wood, representing the valkyrie discoursing with the raven. [picture: manuscript of harold harfagr = the valkyrie and raven] ( ) _once a week_, vol. vii, _october_ _th_, , pp. - . the story of tim. the third (and last) of a series of _russian popular tales_, in prose, translated by george borrow. also printed privately in pamphlet form, as follows:-- _the story of tim_ / _translated from the russian_ / _by_ / _george borrow_ / _london_: / _printed for private circulation_ / -crown octavo, p. . [see _ante_, part i, no. .] the _story_ was also included in _the avon booklet_, vol. ii, , pp. - . ( ) _once a week_, vol. viii, _january_ _rd_, , pp. - . the count of vendel's daughter. [_within a bower the womb i left_] reprinted in _the verner raven_, _the count of vendel's daughter_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . ( ) _once a week_, vol. viii, _december_ _th_, , p. . the hail-storm; or, the death of bui. [_all eager to sail_] this ballad differs entirely from those which appeared, under the title _the hail-storm_ only, in _romantic ballads_, , pp. - , in _targum_, , pp. - , and in _young swaigder or the force of runes and other ballads_, , pp. - . each of these three versions consists of four eight-line stanzas; the present ballad extends to lines, arranged in irregular stanzas. ( ) _benjamin robert haydon_: _correspondence and table talk_. by frederic wordsworth haydon, , vol. i, pp. - . a letter from borrow to b. r. haydon. reprinted in _george borrow and his circle_. by clement king shorter, , p. . ( ) _life_, _writings_, _and correspondence of george borrow_. by william i. knapp, vols, : vol. ii, pp. - . tale from the cornish. [_in lavan's parish once of yore_] reprinted (with some small textual revisions) in _signelil_, _a tale from the cornish_, _and other ballads_, , pp. - . vol. ii, p. . hungarian gypsy song. [_to the mountain the fowler has taken his way_] the two volumes contain, in addition, a considerable number of letters and other documents published therein for the first time. ( ) _george borrow_: _the man and his work_. by r. a. j. walling, vo, . several letters by borrow, addressed to dr. [afterwards sir john] bowring, were printed for the first time in this volume. ( ) _the life of george borrow_. by herbert jenkins, vo, . several letters, and portions of letters, by borrow, were printed for the first time in this volume. ( ) _the fortnightly review_, _april_, , pp. - . nine letters from borrow to his wife. the letters form a portion of an article by mr. clement shorter, entitled _george borrow in scotland_. eight of these letters had been printed previously in _letters to his wife mary borrow_, [see _ante_, part i, no. ]. the remaining letter was afterwards included in _letters to his mother ann borrow and other correspondents_, [see _ante_, part i, no. ]. ( ) _george borrow and his circle_. by clement king shorter, vo, . many letters by borrow, together with a considerable number of other important documents, were first printed in this volume. _note_. the various poems and prose articles included in the above list, to which no reference is appended, have not yet been reprinted in any shape or form. _query_. there exists a galley-proof of a ballad by borrow entitled _the father's return_. _from the polish of mickiewicz_. the ballad consists of twenty-one four-line stanzas, and commences "_take children your way_, _for the last time to-day_." this proof is set up in small type, and was evidently prepared for insertion in some provincial newspaper. this paper i have not been able to trace. should its identity be known to any reader of the present bibliography i should be grateful for a note of it. * * * * * *** in _the tatler_ for _november_ , , appeared a short story entitled _the potato patch_. _by g. borrow_. this story was not by the author of _targum_. '_borrow_' was a mis-print; the name should have read '_g. barrow_.' _part iii_. borroviana: complete volumes of biography and criticism. ( ) george borrow in / east anglia / by / william a. dutt / [_quotation from emerson_] / london / david nutt, - , strand / . collation:--crown octavo, pp. . issued in paper boards backed with cloth, with the title-page, slightly abbreviated, reproduced upon the front cover. some copies are in cream-coloured paper wrappers. ( ) life, writings, / and correspondence of / george borrow / derived from official and other / authentic sources / by william i. knapp, ph.d., ll.d. / author and editor of french and spanish text-books / editor of "las obras de boscan," "diego de mendoza," etc. / and late of yale and chicago universities / with portrait and illustrations / in two volumes / vol. i. [vol. ii.] / london / john murray, albemarle street / new york: g. p. putnam's sons / . collation:--demy octavo: vol. i. pp. xx + . vol. ii. pp. x + , with an inserted slip carrying a list of _errata_ for both volumes. issued in dull green cloth boards, gilt lettered. ( ) george borrow / the man and his work / by / r. a. j. walling / author of "a sea dog of devon" / cassell and company, limited / london, paris, new york, toronto and melbourne / mcmviii. collation:--crown octavo, pp. xii + . issued in dull red cloth boards, gilt lettered. several letters from borrow to dr. [afterwards sir john] bowring were first printed in this volume. ( ) george borrow / von / dr. bernhard blaesing. / berlin / emil ebering / . collation:--royal octavo, pp. . issued in mottled-grey paper wrappers, with the title-page reproduced upon the front. ( ) cymmrodorion / society's / publications. / george borrow's second / tour in wales. / by / t. c. cantrill, b.sc., / and / j. pringle. / from "y cymmrodor," vol. xxii. { } / london: issued by the society, / new stone buildings, , chancery lane. collation:--demy octavo, pp. , without title-page, the title, as above, appearing upon the front wrapper only. issued (in _april_, ) in bright green paper wrappers, with the title in full upon the front. ( ) george borrow / the man and his books / by / edward thomas / author of / "the life of richard jefferies," "light and / twilight," "rest and unrest," "maurice / maeterlinck," etc. / with portraits and illustrations / london / chapman & hall, ltd. / . collation:--demy octavo, pp. xii + + viii. issued in deep mauve coloured cloth boards, gilt lettered. ( ) the life of / george borrow / compiled from unpublished / official documents, his / works, correspondence, etc. / by herbert jenkins / with a frontispiece in photogravure, and / twelve other illustrations / london / john murray, albemarle street, w. / . collation:--demy octavo, pp. xxvi [misnumbered xxviii] + . issued in bright green cloth boards, gilt lettered. a _second edition_ appeared in . ( ) george / borrow / a sermon preached in / norwich cathedral on / july , / by / h. c. beeching, d.d., d.litt. / dean of norwich / london / jarrold & sons / publishers. collation:--crown octavo, pp. . issued in drab paper wrappers, with the title-page reproduced upon the front, the words _threepence net_ being added at foot. ( ) souvenir / of the / george borrow / celebration / norwich, july th, / by / james hooper / prepared and published for / the committee / jarrold & sons / publishers / london and norwich. collation:--royal octavo, pp. , with a portrait-frontispiece, and twenty-four illustrations and portraits. issued in white pictorial paper wrappers, with trimmed edges. ( ) catalogue of the exhibition / commemorative of george borrow / author of "lavengro" etc. held / at the norwich castle museum. / july, . / price _d._ collation:--post octavo, pp. . issued wire-stitched, without wrappers, and with trimmed edges. ( ) george borrow / and his circle / wherein may be found many / hitherto unpublished letters / of borrow and his friends / by / clement king shorter / hodder and stoughton / london new york toronto / . collation:--square octavo, printed in half-sheets, pp. xix + ; with a portrait of borrow as frontispiece, and numerous other illustrations. issued in dark crimson paper boards, backed with buckram, gilt lettered. there are several variations in this edition as compared with one published simultaneously in america by messrs. houghton, mifflin & co. of cambridge, mass. these variations are connected with borrow's attitude towards the british and foreign bible society, mr. shorter having taken occasion to pass some severe strictures upon the obvious cant which characterised the bible society in its relations with borrow. these strictures, although supported by ample quotations from unpublished documents, the london publishers, being a semi-religious house, persuaded the author to cancel. ( ) a / bibliography / of / the writings in prose and verse / of / george henry borrow / by / thomas j. wise / london: / printed for private circulation only / by richard clay & sons, ltd. / . collation:--foolscap quarto, pp. xxii + , with sixty-nine facsimiles of title-pages and manuscripts. issued in bright green paper boards, lettered across the back, and with the title-page reproduced upon the front. one hundred copies only were printed. london: printed for private circulation only by richard clay & sons, ltd. . footnotes: { a} the majority of the manuscripts of ballads written in or about are upon paper watermarked with the date . the majority of the manuscripts of ballads written in or about are upon paper watermarked with the date . { b} among the advertisements at the end of _the romany rye_, , three works ( ) _celtic bards_, _chiefs_, _and kings_, ( ) _songs of europe_, and ( ) _koempe viser_, were announced as 'ready for the press'; whilst a fourth, _northern skalds_, _kings_, _and earls_, was noted as 'unfinished.' { c} no doubt a considerable number of the ballads prepared for the _songs of scandinavia_ in , and surviving in the manuscripts of that date, were actually composed during the three previous years. the production of the complete series must have formed a substantial part of borrow's occupation during that "veiled period," the mists surrounding which mr. shorter has so effectually dissipated. { d} "what you have written has given me great pleasure, as it holds out hope that i may be employed usefully to the deity, to man, and to myself."--[_from borrow's letter to the rev. j. jowett_.] "our committee stumbled at an expression in your letter of yesterday . . . at which a humble christian might not unreasonably take umbrage. it is where you speak of becoming '_useful to the deity_, _to man_, _and to yourself_.' doubtless you meant _the prospect of glorifying god_."--[_from the rev. j. jowett's reply_.] "the courier and myself came all the way without the slightest accident, my usual wonderful good fortune accompanying us."--[_from borrow's letter to the rev. a. brandram_.] "you narrate your perilous journey to seville, and say at the beginning of the description '_my usual wonderful good fortune accompanying us_.' this is a mode of speaking to which we are not accustomed, it savours of the profane."--[_from the rev. a. brandram's reply_.] { } in the majority of the extant copies of the book this list is not present. { } the name of the ship. { } these preliminary pages are misnumbered viii-xx, instead of vi-xviii. { } a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of _the king's wake_ will be found facing page . { } facing the following page will be found a reduced facsimile of the first page of the manuscript of _ingeborg's disguise_. { } a reduced facsimile of the first page of the original manuscript of _ingefred and gudrune_ will be found facing page . { } the manuscript of this poem is in the possession of mr. j. a. spoor, of chicago, to whose courtesy i was indebted for the loan of it when editing the present pamphlet. { } pages and are misnumbered and . { } _y cymmrodor_, vol. xxii, , pp. - . notes on the project gutenberg transcription in the original book the facsimiles occupy a full page and do not carry a page number. in each the verso of the page is blank. in both cases the page counts towards the page number, which is why there are gaps in the page numbering. the inset nature of the facsimiles also means that in the book they break the flow of the text and are sometimes not even in the section to which they belong. in the transcription they have usually been moved to the end of the section to which they belong. their original page position is given by their filename (e.g. p .jpg was originally on page ). on page in the paragraph starting "_targum_ was written by borrow", the "but a small proportion" is as in the book, but should probably be "but only", or "with". on page the book has "one of these is now, in the possession . . ." on page the book has no full-stop at the end of "_to the ears of the queen in her bed it rang_". on page "edition limited to thirty copies" has no closing quote. on page "edition limited to thirty copies" has no closing quote. on page the full-stop is missing after "reproduced upon the front." on page for "freshly blew" the book has "freshl blew". the original book also had an errata which has been applied. the original errors were: on page the paragraph beginning "issued in dark blue cloth boards..." originally read: issued in dark blue cloth boards, with white paper back-labels, lettered "_borrow's_ / _gypsies_ / _of_ / _spain_. / _two volumes_. / _vol. i_. [_vol. ii_.]." the leaves measure . x . inches. the edition consisted of , copies. the published price was _s._ on page the book read "which lockhart in the exercise of his editorial", "fully justified lockhart's action". transcribed from the jarrold & sons edition by david price, email ccx @pglaf.org. many thanks to the norfolk and norwich millennium library, uk, for kindly supplying the images from which this transcription was made. george borrow a sermon preached in norwich cathedral on :: :: july , :: :: by h. c. beeching, d.d., d.litt. dean of norwich london _jarrold & sons_ publishers "as for me, i would seek unto god, which doeth great things and unsearchable; marvellous things without number."--_job_ _v._ . you may desire some explanation of why we in this cathedral, have thought it right to take part with the city in the public commemoration of george borrow. it is not, of course, merely because he was a devoted lover of our ancient house, though for that we are not ungrateful. nor again is it merely because he was for the most active years of his life a zealous servant of the bible society; and our church has taken a special interest in that society since the day when bishop bathurst, first of his episcopal brethren, appeared upon its platforms side by side with joseph john gurney. nor again is it merely because he was an accomplished man of letters. religion and literature indeed have much that is common in their purpose. the church exists to propagate a certain interpretation of the world and human life. literature also exists to interpret life, and the great literatures of the world have never in their interpretations shown themselves antagonistic to religion; on the contrary, they have always tended to discover more and more elements of permanent value in human life, confirming the church's message of its divine origin and destiny. but, unhappily, there have always been, and are still, men of letters whom the church cannot honour, because their books, although technically meritorious, take a view of life which is in our judgment against good morals, or in some other way mischievous. if, then, we in this mother church claim our share in the commemoration of george borrow, it is because he was, as we think, a true seer and interpreter; because he opened to us fresh springs of delight in the natural world; because he aroused new and living interest in the lives of men of many kindreds and tongues; and because he held up to our own nation an ideal of conduct which could not but benefit those whom it attracted. let me, as shortly as i can, remind you of some characteristics of that ideal. every reader of the old testament is familiar with the two great types which the early israelitish civilisation sets before us again and again in cain and abel, isaac and ishmael, esau and jacob--the contrast of the wild and vagabond hunter and the "plain man, dwelling in tents." these types as they appear in the bible have in them a characteristically semitic element, but they have still more of our common humanity. we observe the two types among our own children, and it is a contrast that interests us all. our affections perhaps go out to the romantic esau rather than to his business-like brother; while at the same time we recognise that the future of civilisation must lie not with the child of impulse, but with him who can forecast the future and rank something higher than his momentary whim. it was this fundamental contrast that was so interesting to borrow. he studied it in the cities and in the wildernesses of this and many other lands; and because he studied it he was not content to accept the easy verdict of civilisation that finds nothing but profanity in esau, or the equally easy paradox of a return-to- nature philosophy, which finds all virtue in the noble savage. borrow studied esau in his wandering life with interested eyes, and won his confidence and a glimpse of his secret; and he studied jacob in his counting house and workshop with no less understanding, if with a less degree of sympathy; and then he exhibited to his countrymen an ideal which at the time vexed and disquieted them, because there were elements in it drawn from both. look first at those which he drew from his intercourse with the gipsies. he was puzzled by the problem of their wonderful persistence. what could be its cause? their faults were proverbs. they lived by drawing fools into a circle and cheating them. stealing and lying were first principles in their code of life. and yet because borrow held that nature did not forgive faults, much less allow men to profit by them, he could not but ask whether those gipsies were so thoroughly vicious as was supposed. one day, in a conversation with a gipsy girl under a hedge--one of the strangest talks in the chronicle of literature--he elicited the fact that domestic honour was held among them to be a primary law, and female unchastity an unpardonable offence. and he left that conversation on record for our admonition. that, you will say, is no new ideal to english women. as an ideal, no. but our english practice is something very different. and we have lived to see literature challenge even the ideal. and then there was the secret, an open one indeed, but hidden from many englishmen of borrow's generation, though it had been recently proclaimed by the gentle and thoughtful poet who lay buried in borrow's native town of dereham, that though civilisation arose from life in cities, yet the joy of life was apt to escape the city liver. the vagabond gipsy had something which man was the better for having, a delight in the sun and air and wind and rain. we in norwich are not likely to forget those magical words put into the mouth of the gipsy on mousehold heath, "there's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the heath. life is very sweet, brother." allied with this love of nature was a keen satisfaction in manly exercises, walking, riding, boxing, swimming, which borrow contrasted somewhat scornfully with the baser sports of dog fighting and cock fighting, then in vogue among gentlemen. and as a consequence of this love of the open air and the open country borrow found in the gipsies a sense of freedom and independence, and so a self- respect, which he compared unfavourably with the mingled arrogance and servility of many city-bred people. here then we have some of the elements of the ideal, largely drawn from the despised gipsies, which borrow held up before his generation. he does not indeed promulgate it as the whole duty of man, though we who have learned the lesson may think he is apt to over-emphasise it. he does not ignore other qualities of manliness. he holds that from the root of a self-respecting freedom, if the environment be but favourable, as with the gipsies it was not, other manly qualities will spring. from the strength of self-respect should spring the courage of truthfulness, and justice, and tenderness, and perseverance. on the love of truth and justice i need not dwell; they are conspicuous in every page that borrow wrote. perseverance is still more emphasised, because it was the main contribution of jacob to the human ideal, the quality most lacking in esau. tenderness may seem to be less evident; and i know it is a common opinion that borrow's ideal of life was too self-absorbed to allow of much sympathy with others. i think this view is mistaken. there was undoubtedly a strong stress laid on the duty of protecting one's own life and personality from outside influence, and a corresponding stress on the duty of respect for the independence of others; but where there was a claim, whether of blood, or friendship, or need, borrow's ideal admitted it to the full. i have wished to confine myself this morning to the ideal of conduct which borrow offers us in his books, because it was a conscious and reasoned ideal, and he wrote to propagate it. the question how far he himself attained to his own standard we are right in passing by unless there was any conspicuous contrast between his theory and his practice. but there was no such contrast. so far as our information goes, borrow lived by his ideal resolutely. his truthfulness and perseverance and love of justice cannot be questioned; and on the point of tenderness it is not those who knew him best--his mother, or his wife, or his friends--who have found him wanting. let me pass on to indicate how this ideal connected itself with religion. the fundamental dogma of borrow's religion was the providence of god. so far as i know, he did not formulate his notion of the purpose of the world; he accepted the view of st. paul, that the creation is moving to some "divine event"; and that within the great scheme there are numberless subservient ends which man is being urged by divine admonition to fulfil. such admonitions come to men in many ways; we speak of them as modes of inspiration; and even those who question the inspiration of prophets do not refuse the word in speaking of poets and musicians. borrow did not question prophetic inspiration in the past, because he believed in it as a present fact. he believed that to the man who by prayer kept himself in touch with the divine spirit intimations were vouchsafed of the divine will, which brought clear light into the dark places of life. he somewhat shocked the good but precise secretary of the bible society by declaring in a letter from spain that he had been "very passionate in prayer during the last two or three days," and in consequence, as he thought, saw his way "with considerable clearness": on another occasion, by saying that he was "what the world calls exceedingly superstitious" because he had changed some plan in consequence of a dream; and again by saying, "my usual wonderful good fortune accompanied me." for the last expression he apologised; but, whatever the particular expression used, there can be no doubt that borrow was a firm believer in what our fathers called "particular providences," "leadings of the divine spirit." he believed, for example, that he was doing the will of god in circulating the bible, and he also believed that god made his way plain for so doing. we have known since borrow another great englishman who held a similar faith, charles gordon; and the lives of both supply so many instances of what look like acts of special protection, that the question will present itself to the student of their lives whether there may not be some such connexion between faith and miracle, as our saviour asserted. at any rate, we shall never understand borrow if we exclude from our notion of religion the idea of the miraculous, meaning by that word not the contravention of natural law, but the providential guidance of events. there is one special side of this doctrine of providence which must be referred to specially, because borrow himself calls attention to it in the curious commentary which he annexed to "the romany rye"; the doctrine so familiar to the last generation in the poems of browning, that trouble, to which "man is born, as the sparks fly upward," is ordained by the creator as a stimulus to endeavour, because "where least man suffers, longest he remains." some of you may remember that he argues in that appendix that the old man who had learnt chinese to distract his mind would have played but a sluggard's part in life if no affliction had befallen him, since he had never taken the pains to learn how to tell the time from a clock. "nothing but extreme agony," says borrow, "could have induced such a man to do anything useful." and every one will recall the passage in "lavengro" where he speaks of the fit of horrors that attacked his hero, may we not say himself, when recovering from an illness. "in the recollection and prospect of such woe," he asks, "is it not lawful to exclaim, 'better that i had never been born'"? and he replies, "fool, for thyself thou wast not born, but to fulfil the inscrutable decrees of thy creator; and how dost thou know that this dark principle is not, after all, thy best friend; that it is not that which tempers the whole mass of thy corruption? it may be, for what thou knowest, the mother of wisdom and of great works, it is the dread of the horror of the night that makes the pilgrim hasten on his way. when thou feelest it nigh, let thy safety word be 'onward!' if thou tarry, thou art overwhelmed. courage! build great works; 'tis urging thee." in the passage just quoted borrow speaks of god's "inscrutable" decrees. after sitting as a young man at the feet of william taylor and learning from him some philosophy and much scepticism, he had come back to the old hebrew idea that in religion reverence was the beginning of wisdom. this did not mean that he had discarded western science, or put a bridle upon his own insatiable curiosity. no man was more ready to learn what could anyhow or anywhere be learned. it meant that when all had been learned that science could teach, the really vital questions remained still without an answer, because natural science can throw no light on what nature itself really is. the only clue within our reach to that first and last problem lay, in his judgment, with the simple-hearted and lowly- minded, those in whom this wonderful world still aroused wonder. in thus calling to the soul of man not to lose its power of wonder, borrow is in sympathy with the deepest thought of our time. for ah! how surely, how soon and surely will disenchantment come, when first to herself she boasts to walk securely, and drives the master spirit away from his home; seeing the marvellous things that make the morning are marvels of every day, familiar, and some have lost with use, like earthly robes, their adorning, as earthly joys the charm of a first delight, and some are fallen from awe to neglect and scorning. { } let us say then with the ancient seer: "as for me, i would seek unto god; which doeth great things and unsearchable, marvellous things without number." footnotes: { } robert bridges, _prometheus the firegiver_, .