"Lavengro" in 1851 and "The Romany Rye" in 1857 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 1857 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 1857
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 20 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:
page261.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.