CHAPTER XXIX

“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 note-books 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 1843, the second in 1845, after the Continental tour, which is made use of in the description of the Hungarian, and the third volume in the years between 1845 and 1848. Then in 1852 Borrow wrote out an “advertisement” of a fourth volume, which runs as follows:

Shortly will be published in one volume. Price 10s. _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 1854, and another to Wales in the same year. The Isle of Man was selected for a holiday in 1855, and not until 1857 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, 1857.

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 24th May, 1825, and the 18th July of that year. In _The Romany Rye_ the incidents apparently occur between 19th July and 3rd August, 1825. 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.

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 1000 copies in April, 1857, and it took thirty years to dispose of 3750 copies. Not more than 2000 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.

12 ST. JAMES’S SQUARE,_ May_ 24_th_, 1857.

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 on 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, 19_th_ _August_ 1857.

SIR,—We have, attached to our Corporation, an ancient jocular court composed of 13 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-freemen) 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.