The Life of George Borrow Part 3

On the morning of 2nd April there arrived at 16 Milman Street, Bedford Row, London, W.C.,

"A lad who twenty tongues can talk, And sixty miles a day can walk; Drink at a draught a pint of rum, And then be neither sick nor dumb; Can tune a song and make a verse, And deeds of Northern kings rehea.r.s.e; Who never will forsake his friend While he his bony fist can bend; And, though averse to broil and strife, Will fight a Dutchman with a knife; O that is just the lad for me, And such is honest six-foot-three." {42a}

It was through the Kerrisons that Borrow went to 16 Milman Street, where Roger was lodging. His apartments seem to have been dismal enough, consisting of "a small room, up two pair of stairs, in which I was to sit, and another, still smaller, above it, in which I was to sleep." After the first feeling of loneliness had pa.s.sed, dispelled largely by a bright fire and breakfast, he sallied forth, the contents of the green box under his arm, to present his letter of introduction to Sir Richard Phillips, {42b} in whom centred his hopes of employment.

On arriving at the publisher's house in Tavistock Square, he was immediately shown into Sir Richard's study, where he found "a tall, stout man, about sixty, dressed in a loose morning gown," and with him his confidential clerk Bartlett (the Taggart of Lavengro). Sir Richard was at first enthusiastic and cordial, but when he learned from William Taylor's letter that Borrow had come up to earn his livelihood by authorship, his manner underwent a marked change. The bluff, hearty expression gave place to "a sinister glance," and Borrow found that within that loose morning gown there was a second Sir Richard.

He learned two things--first, that Sir Richard Phillips had retired from publishing and had reserved only The Monthly Magazine; {43a} secondly, that literature was a drug upon the market. With airy self-a.s.sertiveness, the ex-publisher dismissed the contents of the green box that Borrow had brought with him, which had already aroused considerable suspicion in the mind of the maid who had admitted him to the publisher's presence.

When he had thoroughly dashed the young author's hopes of employment, Sir Richard informed him of a new publication he had in preparation, The Universal Review [The Oxford Review of Lavengro], which was to support the son of the house and the wife he had married. With a promise that he should become a contributor to the new review, an earnest exhortation to write a story in the style of The Dairyman's Daughter, and an invitation to dinner for the following Sunday, the first interview between George Borrow and Sir Richard Phillips ended, and Borrow left the great man's presence to begin his exploration of London, first leaving his ma.n.u.scripts at Milman Street. During the rest of the day he walked "scarcely less than thirty miles about the big city." It was late when he returned to his lodgings, thoroughly tired, but with a copy of The Dairyman's Daughter, for "a well- written tale in the style" of which Sir Richard Phillips "could afford as much as ten pounds." The day had been one of the most eventful in Borrow's life.

On the following Sunday Borrow dined at Tavistock Square, and met Lady Phillips, young Phillips and his bride. He learned that Sir Richard was a vegetarian of twenty years' standing and a total abstainer, although meat and wine were not banished from his table.

When publisher and potential author were left alone, the son having soon followed the ladies into the drawing-room, Borrow heard of Sir Richard's amiable intentions towards him. He was to compile six volumes of the lives and trials of criminals [the Newgate Lives and Trials of Lavengro], each to contain not less than a thousand pages.

{44a} For this work he was to receive the munificent sum of fifty pounds, which was to cover all expenses incurred in the purchase of books, papers and ma.n.u.scripts necessary to the compilation of the work. This was only one of the employments that the fertile brain of the publisher had schemed for him. He was also to make himself useful in connection with the forthcoming Universal Review.

"Generally useful, sir--doing whatever is required of you"; for it was not Sir Richard's custom to allow young writers to select their own subjects.

With impressive manner and ponderous diction, Sir Richard Phillips unfolded his philanthropic designs regarding the young writer to whom his words meant a career. He did not end with the appointment of Borrow as general utility writer upon The Universal Review; but proceeded to astonish him with the announcement that to him, George Borrow, understanding German in a manner that aroused the "strong admiration" of William Taylor, was to be entrusted the translating into that tongue of Sir Richard Phillips' book of Philosophy. {44b} If translations of Goethe into English were a drug, Sir Richard Phillips' Proximate Causes was to prove that neither he nor his book would be a drug in Germany. For this work the remuneration was to be determined by the success of the translation, an arrangement sufficiently vague to ensure eventual disagreement.

When Sir Richard had finished his account of what were his intentions towards his guest, he gave him to understand that the interview was at an end, at the same time intimating how seldom it was that he dealt so generously with a young writer. Borrow then rose from the table and pa.s.sed out of the house, leaving his host to muse, as was his custom on Sunday afternoons, "on the magnificence of nature and the moral dignity of man."

For the next few weeks Borrow was occupied in searching in out-of- the-way corners for criminal biography. If he flagged, a visit from his philosopher-publisher spurred him on to fresh effort. He received a copy of Proximate Causes, with an injunction that he should review it in The Universal Review, as well as translate it into German. He was taken to and introduced to the working editor {45a} of the new publication, which was only ostensibly under the control of young Phillips.

In the provision that he should purchase at his own expense all the necessary materials for Celebrated Trials, Borrow found a serious tax upon his resources; but a harder thing to bear with patience and good-humour were the frequent visits he received from Sir Richard himself, who showed the keenest possible interest in the progress of the compilation. He had already caused a preliminary announcement to be made {45b} to the effect that:

"A Selection of the most remarkable Trials and Criminal Causes is printing, in five volumes. {46a} It will include all famous cases, from that of Lord Cobham, in the reign of Henry the Fifth, to that of John Thurtell: and those connected with foreign as well as English jurisprudence. Mr Borrow, the editor, has availed himself of all the resources of the English, German, French, and Italian languages; and his work, including from 150 to 200 {46b} of the most interesting cases on record, will appear in October next." {46c}

Sir Richard's visits to Milman Street were always accompanied by numerous suggestions as to criminals whose claims to be included in this literary chamber of horrors were in his, Sir Richard's, opinion unquestionable. The English character of the compilation was soon sacrificed in order to admit notable malefactors of other nationalities, and the drain upon the editor's small capital became greater than ever.

The leisure that he allowed himself, Borrow spent in exploring the city, or in the company of Francis Arden (Ardrey in Lavengro), whom he had met by chance in the coffee-room of a hotel. The two appear to have been excellent friends, perhaps because of the dissimilarity of their natures. "He was an Irishman," Borrow explains, "I an Englishman; he fiery, enthusiastic and opened-hearted; I neither fiery, enthusiastic, nor open-hearted; he fond of pleasure and dissipation, I of study and reflection." {46d}

They went to the play together, to dog-fights, gaming-houses, in short saw the sights of London. The arrival of Francis Arden at 16 Milman Street was a signal for books and ma.n.u.scripts to be thrown aside in favour either of some expedition or an hour or two's conversation. Borrow, however, soon tired of the pleasures of London, and devoted himself almost entirely to work. Although he saw less of Francis Arden in consequence, they continued to be excellent friends.

After being some four weeks in London, Borrow received a surprise visit (29th April) from his brother, whom he found waiting for him one morning when he came down to breakfast. John told him of his mother's anxiety at receiving only one letter from him since his departure, of her fits of crying, of the grief of Captain Borrow's dog at the loss of his master. He also explained the reason for his being in London. He had been invited to paint the portrait of Robert Hawkes, an ex-mayor of Norwich, for a fee of a hundred guineas.

Lacking confidence in his own ability, he had declined the honour and suggested that Benjamin Haydon should be approached. At the request of a deputation of his fellow citizens, which had waited upon him, he had undertaken to enter into negotiations with Haydon. He even undertook to come up to London at his own expense, that he might see his old master and complete the bargain. Borrow subsequently accompanied his brother when calling upon Haydon, and was enabled to give a thumbnail-sketch of the painter of the Heroic at work that has been p.r.o.nounced to be photographic in its faithfulness.

John returned to Norwich about a fortnight later accompanied by Haydon, who was to become the guest of his sitter, {47a} and George was left to the compilation of Celebrated Trials. Sir Richard Phillips appears to have been a man as prolific of suggestion as he was dest.i.tute of tact. He regarded his authors as the instruments of his own genius. Their business it was to carry out his ideas in a manner entirely congenial to his colossal conceit. His latest author he exposed "to incredible mortification and ceaseless trouble from this same rage for interference."

The result of all this was an attack of the "Horrors." Towards the end of May, Roger Kerrison received from Borrow a note saying that he believed himself to be dying, and imploring him to "come to me immediately." The direct outcome of this note was, not the death of Borrow, but the departure from Milman Street of Roger Kerrison, lest he should become involved in a tragedy connected with Borrow's oft- repeated threat of suicide. Kerrison became "very uneasy and uncomfortable on his account, so that I have found it utterly impossible to live any longer in the same lodgings with him." {48a} Looked at dispa.s.sionately it seems nothing short of an act of cowardice on Kerrison's part to leave alone a man such as Borrow, who might at any moment be a.s.sailed by one of those periods of gloom from which suicide seemed the only outlet. On the other hand, from an anecdote told by C. G. Leland ("Hans Breitmann"), there seems to be some excuse for Kerrison's wish to live alone. "I knew at that time [about 1870]," he writes, {48b} "a Mr Kerrison, who had been as a young man, probably in the Twenties, on intimate terms with Borrow.

He told me that one night Borrow acted very wildly, whooping and vociferating so as to cause the police to follow him, and after a long run led them to the edge of the Thames, 'and there they thought they had him.' But he plunged boldly into the water and swam in his clothes to the opposite sh.o.r.e, and so escaped."

A serious misfortune now befell Borrow in the premature death of The Universal Review, which expired with the sixth number (March 1824-- January 1825). It is not known what was the rate of pay to young and impecunious reviewers {49a} certainly not large, if it may be judged by the amount agreed upon for Celebrated Trials. Still, its end meant that Borrow was now dependent upon what he received for his compilation, and what he merited by his translation into German of Proximate Causes.

There appears to have been some difficulty about payment for Borrow's contributions to the now defunct review, which considerably widened the breach that the Trials had created. Sir Richard became more exacting and more than ever critical. {49b} The end could not be far off. Borrow had come to London determined to be an author, and by no juggling with facts could his present drudgery be considered as authorship. Occasionally his mind reverted to the ma.n.u.scripts in the green box, his faith in which continued undiminished. He made further efforts to get his translations published, but everywhere the answer was the same, in effect, "A drug, sir, a drug!"

At last he determined to approach John Murray (the Second), "Glorious John, who lived at the western end of the town"; but he called many times without being successful in seeing him. Another seventeen years were to elapse before he was to meet and be published by John Murray.

Yet another dispute arose between Borrow and Sir Richard Phillips.

Neither appeared to have realised the supreme folly of entrusting to a young Englishman the translation into German of an English work. A novel would have presented almost insurmountable difficulties; but a work of philosophy! The whole project was absurd. The diction of philosophy in all languages is individual, just as it is in other branches of science, and a very thorough knowledge of, and deep reading in both languages are necessary to qualify a man to translate from a foreign tongue into his own. To expect an inexperienced youth to reverse the order seems to suggest that Sir Richard Phillips must have been a publisher whose enthusiasm was greater than his judgment.

One day when calling at Tavistock Square, Borrow found Sir Richard in a fury of rage. He had submitted the first chapter of the translation of Proximate Causes to some Germans, who found it utterly unintelligible. This was only to be expected, as Borrow confesses that, when he found himself unable to comprehend what was the meaning of the English text, he had translated it LITERALLY INTO GERMAN!

The result of the interview was that Borrow, after what appears to be a tactless, not to say impertinent, rejoinder, {50a} relapsed into silence and finally left the house, ordered back to his compilation by Sir Richard, as soon as he became sufficiently calm to appear coherent, and Borrow walked away musing on the "difference in clever men."

The discovery of the inadequacy of the German translation apparently urged Borrow to hasten on with Celebrated Trials. The Universal Review was dead, the German version of Proximate Causes {50b} had pa.s.sed out of his hands. It was desirable, therefore, that the remaining undertaking should be completed as soon as possible, that the two might part. The last of the ma.n.u.script was delivered, the proofs pa.s.sed for press, and on 19th March the work appeared, the six volumes, running to between three and four thousand pages, containing accounts of some four hundred trials, including that of Borrow's old friend Thurtell for the murder of Mr Weare.

Borrow's name did not appear. He was "the editor," and as such was referred to in the preface contributed by Sir Richard himself. Among other things he tells of how, in some cases, "the Editor has compressed into a score of pages the substance of an entire volume."

Sir Richard was a philosopher as well as a preface-writing publisher, and it was only natural that he should speculate as to the effect upon his editor's mind of months spent in reading and editing such records of vice. "It may be expected," he writes, "that the Editor should convey to his readers the intellectual impressions which the execution of his task has produced on his mind. He confesses that they are mournful." Sir Richard was either a master of irony, or a man of singular obtuseness.

One effect of this delving into criminal records had been to raise in Borrow's mind strange doubts about virtue and crime. When a boy, he had written an essay in which he strove to prove that crime and virtue were mere terms, and that we were the creatures of necessity or circ.u.mstance. These broodings in turn reawakened the theory that everything is a lie, and that nothing really exists except in our imaginations. The world was "a maze of doubt." These indications of an overtaxed brain increased, and eventually forced Borrow to leave London. His work was thoroughly uncongenial. He disliked reviewing; he had failed in his endeavours to render Proximate Causes into intelligible German; and it had taken him some time to overcome his dislike of the sordid stories of crime and criminals that he had to read and edit. He became gloomy and depressed, and p.r.o.ne to compare the real conditions of authorship with those that his imagination had conjured up.

The most important result of his labours in connection with Celebrated Trials was that upon his literary style. There is a tremendous significance in the following pa.s.sage. It tells of the transition of the actual vagabond into the literary vagabond, with power to express in words what proved so congenial to Borrow's vagabond temperament:

"Of all my occupations at this period I am free to confess I liked that of compiling the Newgate Lives and Trials [Celebrated Trials]

the best; that is, after I had surmounted a kind of prejudice which I originally entertained. The trials were entertaining enough; but the lives--how full were they of wild and racy adventures, and in what racy, genuine language were they told. What struck me most with respect to these lives was the art which the writers, whoever they were, possessed of telling a plain story. It is no easy thing to tell a story plainly and distinctly by mouth; but to tell one on paper is difficult indeed, so many snares lie in the way. People are afraid to put down what is common on paper, they seek to embellish their narratives, as they think, by philosophic speculations and reflections; they are anxious to shine, and people who are anxious to shine can never tell a plain story. 'So I went with them to a music booth, where they made me almost drunk with gin, and began to talk their flash language, which I did not understand,' {52a} says, or is made to say, Henry Simms, executed at Tyburn some seventy years before the time of which I am speaking. I have always looked upon this sentence as a masterpiece of the narrative style, it is so concise and yet so clear." {52b}

By the time the work was published and Borrow had been paid his fee, all relations between editor and publisher had ceased, and there was "a poor author, or rather philologist, upon the streets of London, possessed of many tongues," which he found "of no use in the world."

{52c} A month after the appearance of Celebrated Trials (18th April), and a little more than a year after his arrival in London, Borrow published a translation of Klinger's Faustus. {53a} He himself gives no particulars as to whether it was commissioned or no.

It may even have been "the Romance in the German style" from the Green Box. It is known that he received payment for it by a bill at five or six months, {53b} but there is no mention of the amount. It would appear that the translation had long been projected, for in The Monthly Magazine, July 1824, there appeared, in conjunction with the announcement of Celebrated Trials, the following paragraph: "The editor of the preceding has ready for the press, a Life of Faustus, his Death and Descent into h.e.l.l, which will also appear the next winter."

Faustus did not meet with a very cordial reception. The Literary Gazette (16th July 1825) characterised it as "another work to which no respectable publisher ought to have allowed his name to be put.

The political allusion and metaphysics, which may have made it popular among a low cla.s.s in Germany, do not sufficiently season its lewd scenes and coa.r.s.e descriptions for British palates. We have occasionally publications for the fireside,--these are only fit for the fire."

Borrow had apparently been in some doubt about certain pa.s.sages, for in a note headed "The Translator to the Public," he defends the work as moral in its general teaching:

"The publication of the present volume may at first sight appear to require some brief explanation from the Translator, inasmuch as the character of the incidents may justify such an expectation on the part of the reader. It is, therefore, necessary to state that, although scenes of vice and crime are here exhibited, it is merely in the hope that they may serve as beacons, to guide the ignorant and unwary from the shoals on which they might otherwise be wrecked. The work, when considered as a whole, is strictly moral."

It must be confessed that Faustus does not err on the side of restraint. Many of its scenes might appear "lewd . . . and coa.r.s.e"

to anyone who for a moment allowed his mind to wander from the morality of "its general teaching." The attacks upon the lax morals of the priesthood must have proved particularly congenial to the translator.

The more Borrow read his translations of Ab Gwilym, the more convinced he became of their merit and the profit they would bring to him who published them. The booksellers, however, with singular unanimity, declined the risk of introducing to the English public either Welsh or Danish ballads; and their translator became so shabby in consequence, that he refrained from calling upon his friend Arden, for whom he had always cherished a very real friendship. He began to lose heart. His energy left him and with it went hope. He was forced to review his situation. Authorship had obviously failed, and he found himself with no reasonable prospect of employment.

There is no episode in Borrow's life that has so exercised the minds of commentators and critics as his account of the book he terms in Lavengro, The Life and Adventures of Joseph Sell, the Great Traveller. Some dismiss the whole story as apocryphal; others see in it a grain of truth distorted into something of vital importance; whilst there are a number of earnest Borrovians that accept the whole story as it is written. Dr Knapp has said that Joseph Sell "was not a book at all, and the author of it never said that it was." This was obviously an error, for the bookseller is credited with saying, "I think I shall venture on sending your book to the press," {55a} referring to it as a "book" four times in nine lines. Again, in another place, Borrow describes how he rescued himself "from peculiarly miserable circ.u.mstances by writing a book, an original book, within a week, even as Johnson is said to have written his Ra.s.selas and Beckford his Vathek." {55b} This removes all question of the Life and Adventures of Joseph Sell being included in a collection of short stories. The t.i.tle would not be the same, the date is most probably wrongly given, as in the case of Marshland Shales; but the general accuracy of the account as written seems to be highly probable. Many efforts have been made to trace the story; but so far unsuccessfully. It must be remembered that Borrow loved to stretch the long arm of coincidence; but he loved more than anything else a dramatic situation. He was always on the look out for effective "curtains."

In favour of the story having been actually written, is the knowledge that Borrow invented little or nothing. Collateral evidence has shown how little he deviated from actual happenings, although he did not hesitate to revise dates or colour events. The strongest evidence, however, lies in the atmosphere of truth that pervades Chapters LV.-LVII. of Lavengro. They are convincing. At one time or another during his career, it would appear that Borrow wrote against time from grim necessity; otherwise he must have been a master of invention, which everything that is known about him clearly shows that he was not.

Joseph Sell has disappeared, a most careful search of the Registers at Stationers' Hall can show no trace of that work, or any book that seems to suggest it, and the contemporary literary papers render no a.s.sistance.

According to Borrow's own account, one morning on getting up he found that he had only half a crown in the world. It was this circ.u.mstance, coupled with the timely notice that he saw affixed to a bookseller's window to the effect that "A Novel or Tale is much wanted," that determined him to endeavour to emulate Dr Johnson and William Beckford. He had tired of "the Great City," and his thoughts turned instinctively to the woods and the fields, where he could be free to meditate and muse in solitude.

When he returned to Milman Street after seeing the bookseller's advertis.e.m.e.nt, he found that his resources had been still further reduced to eighteen-pence. He was too proud to write home for a.s.sistance, he had broken with Sir Richard Phillips, and he had no reasonable expectation of obtaining employment of any description; for his accomplishments found no place in the catalogue of everyday wants. He was a proper man with his hands, and knew some score or more languages. No matter how he regarded the situation, the facts were obvious. Between him and actual starvation there was the inconsiderable sum of eighteen-pence and the bookseller's advertis.e.m.e.nt. The gravity of the situation banished the cloud of despondency that threatened to settle upon him, and also the doubts that presented themselves as to whether he possessed the requisite ability to produce what the bookseller required. The all-important question was, could he exist sufficiently long on eighteen-pence to complete a story? Sir Richard Phillips had told him to live on bread and water. He now did so.