“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 1820, 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 1825, 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 £50, which he would not accept, nor his invitation to join the band. Dr. Knapp confidently gives the date of May 12 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 1825 and 1826 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 1825. With this may possibly be connected another story: of a young painter of dogs and horses who was living at Melford in 1805 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 1825, 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.” [{93a}] Borrow was a great admirer of the “Memoirs” [{93b}] of Vidocq,” principal agent of the French police till 1827—now proprietor of the paper