Nothing but Gloom--Sporting Character--Gouty Tory--Servants'
Club--Politics--Reformado Footman--Peroration--Good Night.
"We arrived in England, and went to our country seat, but the peace and
tranquillity of the family had been marred, and I no longer found my
place the pleasant one which it had formerly been; there was nothing but
gloom in the house, for the youngest daughter exhibited signs of lunacy,
and was obliged to be kept under confinement. The next season I attended
my master, his son, and eldest daughter to London, as I had previously
done. There I left them, for hearing that a young baronet, an
acquaintance of the family, wanted a servant, I applied for the place,
with the consent of my masters, both of whom gave me a strong
recommendation; and, being approved of, I went to live with him.
"My new master was what is called a sporting character, very fond of the
turf, upon which he was not very fortunate. He was frequently very much
in want of money, and my wages were anything but regularly paid;
nevertheless, I liked him very much, for he treated me more like a friend
than a domestic, continually consulting me as to his affairs. At length
he was brought nearly to his last shifts, by backing the favourite at the
Derby, which favourite turned out a regular brute, being found nowhere at
the rush. Whereupon, he and I had a solemn consultation over fourteen
glasses of brandy and water, and as many cigars--I mean, between us--as
to what was to be done. He wished to start a coach, in which event he
was to be driver, and I guard. He was quite competent to drive a coach,
being a first-rate whip, and I dare say I should have made a first-rate
guard; but, to start a coach requires money, and we neither of us
believed that anybody would trust us with vehicles and horses, so that
idea was laid aside. We then debated as to whether or not he should go
into the Church; but to go into the Church--at any rate to become a dean
or bishop, which would have been our aim--it is necessary for a man to
possess some education; and my master, although he had been at the best
school in England, that is, the most expensive, and also at College, was
almost totally illiterate, so we let the Church scheme follow that of the
coach. At last, bethinking me that he was tolerably glib at the tongue,
as most people are who are addicted to the turf, also a great master of
slang; remembering also that he had a crabbed old uncle who had some
borough interest, I proposed that he should get into the House, promising
in one fortnight to qualify him to make a figure in it, by certain
lessons which I would give him. He consented; and during the next
fortnight I did little else than give him lessons in elocution, following
to a tittle the method of the great professor, which I had picked up,
listening behind the door. At the end of that period, we paid a visit to
his relation, an old gouty Tory, who, at first, received us very coolly.
My master, however, by flattering a predilection of his for Billy Pitt,
soon won his affections so much, that he promised to bring him into
Parliament; and in less than a month was as good as his word. My master,
partly by his own qualifications, and partly by the assistance which he
had derived, and still occasionally derived from me, cut a wonderful
figure in the House, and was speedily considered one of the most
promising speakers; he was always a good hand at promising--he is at
present, I believe, a Cabinet Minister.
"But as he got up in the world he began to look down on me. I believe he
was ashamed of the obligation under which he lay to me; and at last,
requiring no farther hints as to oratory from a poor servant like me, he
took an opportunity of quarrelling with me and discharging me. However,
as he had still some grace, he recommended me to a gentleman with whom,
since he had attached himself to politics, he had formed an acquaintance,
the editor of a grand Tory Review. I lost caste terribly amongst the
servants for entering the service of a person connected with a profession
so mean as literature; and it was proposed at the Servants' Club, in Park
Lane, to eject me from that society. The proposition, however, was not
carried into effect, and I was permitted to show myself among them,
though few condescended to take much notice of me. My master was one of
the best men in the world, but also one of the most sensitive. On his
veracity being impugned by the editor of a newspaper, he called him out,
and shot him through the arm. Though servants are seldom admirers of
their masters, I was a great admirer of mine, and eager to follow his
example. The day after the encounter, on my veracity being impugned by
the servant of Lord C--- in something I said in praise of my master, I
determined to call him out; so I went into another room and wrote a
challenge. But whom should I send it by? Several servants to whom I
applied refused to be the bearers of it; they said I had lost caste, and
they could not think of going out with me. At length the servant of the
Duke of B--- consented to take it; but he made me to understand that,
though he went out with me, he did so merely because he despised the
Whiggish principles of Lord C---'s servant, and that if I thought he
intended to associate with me I should be mistaken. Politics, I must
tell you, at that time ran as high amongst the servants as the gentlemen,
the servants, however, being almost invariably opposed to the politics of
their respective masters, though both parties agreed in one point, the
scouting of everything low and literary, though I think, of the two, the
liberal or reform party were the most inveterate. So he took my
challenge, which was accepted; we went out, Lord C---'s servant being
seconded by a reformado footman from the palace. We fired three times
without effect; but this affair lost me my place; my master on hearing it
forthwith discharged me; he was, as I have said before, very sensitive,
and he said this duel of mine was a parody of his own. Being, however,
one of the best men in the world, on his discharging me he made me a
donation of twenty pounds.
"And it was well that he made me this present, for without it I should
have been penniless, having contracted rather expensive habits during the
time that I lived with the young baronet. I now determined to visit my
parents, whom I had not seen for years. I found them in good health,
and, after staying with them for two months, I returned again in the
direction of town, walking, in order to see the country. On the second
day of my journey, not being used to such fatigue, I fell ill at an inn
on the Great North Road, and there I continued for some weeks till I
recovered, but by that time my money was entirely spent. By living at
the inn I had contracted an acquaintance with the master and the people,
and become accustomed to inn life. As I thought that I might find some
difficulty in procuring any desirable situation in London, owing to my
late connection with literature, I determined to remain where I was,
provided my services would be accepted. I offered them to the master,
who, finding I knew something of horses, engaged me as a postillion. I
have remained there since. You have now heard my story.
"Stay, you shan't say that I told my tale without a per--peroration. What
shall it be? Oh, I remember something which will serve for one! As I
was driving my chaise some weeks ago; I saw standing at the gate of an
avenue, which led up to an old mansion, a figure which I thought I
recognised. I looked at it attentively, and the figure, as I passed,
looked at me; whether it remembered me I do not know, but I recognised
the face it showed me full well.
"If it was not the identical face of the red-haired priest whom I had
seen at Rome, may I catch cold!
"Young gentleman, I will now take a spell on your blanket--young lady,
good night."
THE END. {437}
Footnotes:
{22} Greenwich.
{27a} Cf. French _chaperon_.
{27b} The Gentile's coming.
{27c} Gypsy fellows.
{33} Hearken, thimbla,
Comes a Gentile.
{35a} A meaningless verse.
{35b} Rather, _Okki tiro piomus_.
{36} Books.
{37} _Tatchi romadi_.
{38} Great City.
{39a} Meant for "ghost," but not real Anglo-Romany.
{39b} _Jerry_ Abershaw (_c._ 1773-95), a highwayman who haunted
Wimbledon Common, and was hanged on Kennington Common for shooting a
constable.
{43a} Thomas Blood (_c._ 1618-80). See T. Seccombe's _Lives of Twelve
Bad Men_ (1894).
{43b} In December 1670.
{63} ?Amesbury.
{65} The Avon.
{72a} The so-called (by Stukeley) "Vespasian's Ramparts."
{72b} Salisbury.
{87} This practice is not so uncommon. Dr. Johnson had a very similar
habit in his "sort of magical movement" (Life by Boswell, end of year
1764); and a member of my own college at Oxford, nearly thirty years ago,
touched just like the man in _Lavengro_. Once in the Schools he
remembered he had passed by a pebble which he had noticed in the High
Street: he tore up his papers, and went and picked up the pebble.
{88} Mr. William Bodham Donne, the examiner of plays 1857-74, was told
by Borrow himself that this "Man who Touched" was drawn from the author
of _Vathek_, William Beckford (1760-1844). There are difficulties in the
way of accepting this statement, among them that Beckford had quitted
Fonthill for Bath in 1822, three years before Borrow went a-gypsying.
Still, I believe there is something in it.
{114} A thing done oftener in books than in reality.
{121} Richard Hurrell Froude in a letter of 1831 brands Dissenters as
"the promoters of damnable heresy."
{139} A branch of the great Gypsy family of Boswell have contracted the
surname to Boss.
{142} At Tamworth in May 1812 (Knapp, i. 105).
{156} The Gypsy lass
And the Gypsy lad
Shall go to-morrow
To poison the pig
And bewitch the horse
Of the farmer gentleman.
{160} The Gypsy lass
And the Gypsy lad
Love stealing
And fortune-telling,
And lying,
And every _-pen_
But goodness
And truth.
{161} Dog. Better, _jukel_.
{165a} By my God; not Anglo-Romany.
{165b} Coppersmith.
{167} Grand-aunt's.
{168} Cake.
{169} Rod.
{170} Aunt.
{174a} Poisoned.
{174b} Fortune-telling spirit. I never met the English Gypsy that used
_dook_.
{177} Gentile's coming.
{188} In my _Gypsy Folk-Tales_ (1899, pp. 293-95) I have discussed with
some fulness Bunyan's possible Gypsy ancestry. The most interesting
point is that in 1586 at Launceston a child was baptized "Nicholas, sonne
of James Bownian, an Egiptian rogue."
{201} Ellis Wynn (_c._ 1671-1741). Borrow himself at last printed his
translation of _The Sleeping Bard_ at Yarmouth in 1860, and himself next
year reviewed it in the _Quarterly_.
{238} Rhys Prichard (1579-1644).
{246} Hat of beaver.
{247} Good day, brother.
{249a} Seems meant for "hang-woman," but there is no such word.
{249b} Gipsy-wise--an odd form.
{250a} Good old blood. Should be _rat_, not _rati_.
{250b} Horse.
{251} Brother, comrade.
{252a} Aunt.
{252b} Poisoning pigs.
{253a} Poisons; not Anglo-Romany.
{253b} Better, _nashado_, hanged.
{254a} Magistrate.
{254b} Runner, detective.
{255a} Woman. Rightly _juvel_.
{255b} No such word.
{256} Seemingly "gallows," but no such word.
{257a} Gypsy chap.
{257b} _Engro_ is a mere termination, like _-er_ in _runner_.
{259} Fool.
{260} Fists. Prizefighters' slang.
{263} Blacksmith.
{264a} Tell fortunes.
{264b} Hill Town, Norwich, but better, _Chumba Gav_.
{264c} "Go with God." Not English Romany.
{267} Horse-shoe.
{268a} Better, _yogesko chivs_.
{268b} Probably "brother," but not English Romany.
{268c} Unknown to English Gypsies.
{268d} Beating.
{268e} Questionable.
{269} Destiny.
{270a} Knife.
{270b} Foot. Not English Romany.
{270c} Nail, questionable.
{280} Horse.
{283} Son; better, _chavo_.
{285} As I was going to the town one day
I met on the road my Gypsy lass.
{287} In again.
{293} Woman, thieves' cant.
{294a} Ghost.
{294b} Knive, thieves' cant.
{294c} _Moila_, donkey.
{324a} Gentile listening.
{324b} Yonder there.
{330} _Mumper_, sling for "vagabond."
{347} Cardinal Giuseppe Mezzofanti (1774-1849), who could speak fifty-
eight languages.
{437} Did ever any other book break off like this one? And _The Romany
Rye_ opens calmly with: "I awoke at the first break of day, and, leaving
the postillion fast asleep, stepped out of the tent."