[{8}] For a useful, if more commonplace and merely bibliographical study of Sir Richard Phillipps, see W. E. A. Axon’s Stray Chapters, 1888, p. 237.
[{12}] This is no less true of Borrow’s still earlier book The Zincali, An Account of the Gypsies of Spain (1841)—a book which every true Borrovian will carefully assimilate, if only for these reasons: First, it supplies a key to much of his later work, many of the greatest qualities of which may here be found in embryo. Secondly, it contains some of the finest descriptive passages in the English tongue, notably the account of the Gitána of Seville.
[{20a}] The beer he got was seldom to his taste; he called it “swipes,” but went on drinking glass after glass. What a figure he must have made in the bar parlour of the Bald-faced Stag at Roehampton, with his tales of Jerry Abershaw, Ambrose Gwinett, Thurtell and Wainewright! Mr. Watts-Dunton says he had the gift of drinking deeply, but he adds “of the waters of life,” a refinement which Borrow himself might have deprecated.
[{20b}] Henry Hall Dixon.
[{22}] Of the marvellous facility with which some people learn languages in the latter sense we have a good example cited by Alfred Russel Wallace, in the case of a Flemish planter of Ceram, near Amboyna, named Captain Van der Beck. “When quite a youth he had accompanied a Government official who was sent to report on the trade and commerce of the Mediterranean, and had acquired the colloquial language of every place they stayed a few weeks at. He had afterwards made voyages to St. Petersburg, and to other parts of Europe, including a few weeks in London; and had then come out to the East, where he had been for some years trading and speculating in the various islands. He now spoke Dutch, French, Malay and Javanese, all equally well; English with a very slight accent, but with perfect fluency, and a most complete knowledge of idiom, in which I often tried to puzzle him in vain. German and Italian were also quite familiar to him, and his acquaintance with European languages included Modern Greek, Turkish, Russian and colloquial Hebrew and Latin. As a test of his power, I may mention that he had made a voyage to the out-of-the-way island of Salibaboo, and had stayed there trading a few weeks. As I was collecting vocabularies, he told me he thought he could remember some words, and dictated a considerable number. Some time after I met with a short list of words taken down in those islands, and in every case they agreed with those he had given me. He used to sing a Hebrew drinking-song, which he had learned from some Jews with whom he had once travelled and astonished by joining in their conversation.” [{23}] Borrow’s colloquial gift was, to all appearance, closely allied to that of this polyglot Fleming.
[{23}] Wallace, The Malay Archipelago, 1890, p. 269.
[{25}] Flunkeyism he called it, and thence deduced the pecuniary miseries of Scott’s later life. His depreciatory view was in part, too, I believe, an echo from his favourite Vidocq. Speaking of the gipsies in his chapter on “Les Careurs,” Vidocq calls them a species characterised and depicted with so little truth by the first romance-writer of our time. But Borrow certainly had a far deeper reason for his dislike of Scott. Under the specious pretence of deference for antiquity and respect for primitive models, he imagined that Scott was sapping the foundations of Protestantism. Newman from the opposite camp saw only the beneficial effect of Scott’s influence in turning men’s minds in the direction of the Middle Ages. (See his article in the British Critic for April 1839, and Apologia, chap. iii.). As for Wordsworth, Borrow (with characteristic wrong-headedness) conceived him as an impostor. Had he made Nature his tent and the hard earth his bed with the stars for a canopy? No; he walked out to sing of moorland, and fell from a “highly eligible” cottage in the Lakes, where women-folk, at his beck and call, bore the brunt of the “plain living.”
[{27a}] The “splendid old corsair,” E. J. T., is best known perhaps as the grim and grizzled pilot in Millais’ great picture (now in the Tate) of the North-west Passage. Trelawny and Borrow are linked together as men whose mental powers were strong but whose bodily powers were still stronger in the Memoirs of Gordon Hake (who knew both of them well). Another rival of Borrow in respect to the Mens sana in corpore sano was the famous Dr. Whewell, Master of Trinity. Mr. Murray tells a story of his concern at a dinner-party upon a prospect of an altercation between Borrow and Whewell. With both omniscience was a foible. Both were powerful men; and both of them, if report were true, had more than a superficial knowledge of the art of self-defence.
[{27b}] As a matter of fact there was nothing in the least degree squalid about Borrow’s subjects or treatment. His tramps and vagabonds have nothing about them that is repulsive. Borrow, it is true, was ready enough to condone the offences of those who sought dupes among the well-to-do public; but he preferred the honester members of the vagrant class; and it is plain that they reciprocated the preference, for they regarded the Romany Rye with an almost superstitious reverence on account of his truth, honour bright and fair speech. Borrow had a passion for depicting the class that Hurtado de Mendoza had first caught for literature in his Lazarillo (1553)—that, namely, of the old tricksters of the highway who still retained many traits, noble and ignoble, from the primeval savage. For the characteristically mean and squalid one must go up higher in the scale of civilisation.
[{30}] Of all the reviews of Lavengro, extraordinary as many now appear, it was left for the month of July in the year of grace 1900 to produce the most delightfully amazing. We subjoin it verbatim from the Catholic Times of July 27th, 1900.