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 1905, although Ford
died in 1858. 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 1845 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to Madrid for some years, until he was superseded by George Villiers,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 1831. Richard Ford apparently left Spain
very shortly before George Borrow entered that country. Ford passed
through Madrid on his way to England in September, 1833. 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 in Spain_.
He tells Addington, indeed, in a letter of 14th January, 1841:
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 £44 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, but
I content myself with giving only a translation:
TO GEORGE BORROW, ESQ., OULTON HALL, LOWESTOFT
(_Translated from the Spanish_)
HEAVITREE HOUSE, EXETER, _Jan._ 19, 1842.
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, in all friendliness,
RICHARD FORD.
Here is a second letter of the following month:
_February_ 26_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 £44 for the thirty-two pages; this, with
Kemble’s £50, 8s. for the _Zincali_, nearly reaches £100: 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! Arriba! 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 flyleaf 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 Vm a la primera vista
de aquella hoja volante. Conque Mantengare Vm bueno y alegre y mande
Vm siempre, a S: S: S: y buen Critico, L: I: M: B.,
R. F.
During these years—1843 and onwards—Borrow was regularly corresponding
with Ford, as we learn from Ford’s own words:—
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
123 PARK MANSIONS, _Thursday_, _April_ 13, 1843.
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 refers to a 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.
{164}
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, 1844, while the _Handbook for Travellers in Spain_ was going to
press, Ford went on a visit to Borrow at Oulton Hall, 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 1845 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 letter on p. 167, dated 1846,
written long after the unfortunate episode, and another in Dr. Knapp’s
_Life_, dated 1851.
TO MRS. BORROW, OULTON HALL, LOWESTOFT
_Oct._ 6, 1844, 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
123 PARLIAMENT STREET,
GROSVENOR SQUARE, _Feb._ 17, 1845.
DEAR BORROW,—_El hombre propose pero Dios es que dispose_. I had
hoped 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 30 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 1851, acknowledging a copy of
_Lavengro_, in which Fords 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 1858:
TO GEORGE BORROW, ESQ., OULTON HALL, LOWESTOFT
HEAVITREE, _Jany._ 28, 1846.
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 4th,
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.