“I did not like that Jack Priest; so I kept my eye upon all his motions. Lord! how that Jack Priest did curry favour with our governor and the two young ladies; and he curried, and curried, till he had got himself into favour with the governor, and more especially with the two young ladies, of whom their father was doatingly fond. At last the ladies took lessons in Italian of the priest, a language in which he was said to be a grand proficient, and of which they had hitherto known but very little; and from that time his influence over them, and consequently over the old governor, increased, till the tables were turned, and he no longer curried favour with them, but they with him; yes, as true as my leg aches, the young ladies curried, and the old governor curried favour with that same priest; when he was with them, they seemed almost to hang on his lips, that is, the young ladies; and as for the old governor, he never contradicted him, and when the fellow was absent, which, by-the-bye was not often, it was ‘Father so-and-so said this, and Father so-and-so said that; Father so-and-so thinks we should do so-and-so, or that we should not do so-and-so’. I at first thought that he must have given them something, some philtre or the like; but one of the English maid-servants, who had a kind of respect for me, and who saw much more behind the scenes than I did, informed me that he was continually instilling strange notions into their heads, striving, by every possible method, to make them despise the religion of their own land, and take up that of the foreign country in which they were. And sure enough, in a little time, the girls had altogether left off going to an English chapel, and were continually visiting places of Italian worship. The old governor, it is true, still went to his church, but he appeared to be hesitating between two opinions; and once when he was at dinner he said to two or three English friends, that since he had become better acquainted with it, he had conceived a much more favourable opinion of the Catholic religion than he had previously entertained. In a word, the priest ruled the house, and everything was done according to his will and pleasure; by degrees he persuaded the young ladies to drop their English acquaintances, whose place he supplied with Italians, chiefly females. My poor old governor would not have had a person to speak to, for he never could learn the language, but for two or three Englishmen who used to come occasionally and take a bottle with him, in a summer-house, whose company he could not be persuaded to resign, notwithstanding the entreaties of his daughters, instigated by the priest, whose grand endeavour seemed to be to render the minds of all three foolish, for his own ends. And if he was busy above stairs with the governor, there was another busy below with us poor English servants, a kind of subordinate priest, a low Italian; as he could speak no language but his own, he was continually jabbering to us in that, and by hearing him the maids and myself contrived to pick up a good deal of the language, so that we understood most that was said, and could speak it very fairly; and the themes of his jabber were the beauty and virtues of one whom he called Holy Mary, and the power and grandeur of one whom he called the Holy Father; and he told us that we should shortly have an opportunity of seeing the Holy Father, who could do anything he liked with Holy Mary: in the meantime we had plenty of opportunities of seeing Holy Mary, for in every church, chapel and convent to which we were taken, there was an image of Holy Mary, who, if the images were dressed at all in her fashion, must have been very fond of short petticoats and tinsel, and who, if those said figures at all resembled her in face, could scarcely have been half as handsome as either of my two fellow-servants, not to speak of the young ladies.
“Now it happened that one of the female servants was much taken with what she saw and heard, and gave herself up entirely to the will of the subordinate, who had quite as much dominion over her as his superior had over the ladies; the other maid, however, the one who had a kind of respect for me, was not so easily besotted; she used to laugh at what she saw, and at what the fellow told her, and from her I learnt that amongst other things intended by these priestly confederates was robbery; she said that the poor old governor had already been persuaded by his daughters to put more than a thousand pounds into the superior priest’s hands for purposes of charity and religion, as was said, and that the subordinate one had already inveigled her fellow-servant out of every penny which she had saved from her wages, and had endeavoured likewise to obtain what money she herself had, but in vain. With respect to myself, the fellow shortly after made an attempt towards obtaining a hundred crowns, of which, by some means, he knew me to be in possession, telling me what a meritorious thing it was to give one’s superfluities for the purposes of religion. ‘That is true,’ said I, ‘and if, after my return to my native country, I find I have anything which I don’t want myself, I will employ it in helping to build a Methodist chapel.’
“By the time that the three months were expired for which we had hired the palace of the needy Prince, the old governor began to talk of returning to England, at least of leaving Italy. I believe he had become frightened at the calls which were continually being made upon him for money; for after all, you know, if there is a sensitive part of a man’s wearing apparel, it is his breeches pocket; but the young ladies could not think of leaving dear Italy and the dear priest; and then they had seen nothing of the country, they had only seen Naples; before leaving dear Italia they must see more of the country and the cities; above all, they must see a place which they called the Eternal City, or by some similar nonsensical name; and they persisted so that the poor governor permitted them, as usual, to have their way; and it was decided what route they should take, that is, the priest was kind enough to decide for them; and was also kind enough to promise to go with them part of the route, as far as a place where there was a wonderful figure of Holy Mary, which the priest said it was highly necessary for them to see before visiting the Eternal City; so we left Naples in hired carriages, driven by fellows they call veturini, cheating, drunken dogs, I remember they were. Besides our own family there was the priest and his subordinate, and a couple of hired lackeys. We were several days upon the journey, travelling through a very wild country, which the ladies pretended to be delighted with, and which the governor cursed on account of the badness of the roads; and when we came to any particularly wild spot we used to stop, in order to enjoy the scenery, as the ladies said; and then we would spread a horse-cloth on the ground, and eat bread and cheese, and drink wine of the country; and some of the holes and corners in which we bivouacked, as the ladies called it, were something like this place where we are now, so that when I came down here it put me in mind of them. At last we arrived at the place where was the holy image.
“We went to the house or chapel in which the holy image was kept, a frightful, ugly black figure of Holy Mary, dressed in her usual way; and after we had stared at the figure, and some of our party had bowed down to it, we were shown a great many things which were called holy relics, which consisted of thumbnails and fore-nails and toe-nails, and hair and teeth, and a feather or two, a mighty thigh-bone, but whether of a man or a camel, I can’t say; all of which things I was told, if properly touched and handled, had mighty power to cure all kinds of disorders; and as we went from the holy house, we saw a man in a state of great excitement; he was foaming at the mouth, and cursing the holy image and all its household, because, after he had worshipped it and made offerings to it, and besought it to assist him in a game of chance which he was about to play, it had left him in the lurch, allowing him to lose all his money; and when I thought of all the rubbish I had seen, and the purposes which it was applied to, in conjunction with the rage of the losing gamester at the deaf and dumb image, I could not help comparing the whole with what my poor brother used to tell me of the superstitious practices of the blacks on the high Barbary shore, and their occasional rage and fury at the things they worshipped; and I said to myself, if all this here doesn’t smell of fetish may I smell fetid.
“At this place the priest left us, returning to Naples with his subordinate, on some particular business, I suppose. It was, however, agreed that he should visit us at the Holy City. We did not go direct to the Holy City, but bent our course to two or three other cities which the family were desirous of seeing, but as nothing occurred to us in these places of any particular interest, I shall take the liberty of passing them by in silence. At length we arrived at the Eternal City; an immense city it was, looking as if it had stood for a long time, and would stand for a long time still; compared with it, London would look like a mere assemblage of bee-skeps; however, give me the bee-skeps with their merry hum and bustle, and life and honey, rather than that huge town, which looked like a sepulchre, where there was no life, no busy hum, no bees, but a scanty, sallow population, intermixed with black priests, white priests, grey priests; and though I don’t say there was no honey in the place, for I believe there was, I am ready to take my Bible oath that it was not made there, and that the priests kept it all for themselves.”
CHAPTER XCIX.
“The day after our arrival,” continued the postillion, “I was sent, under the guidance of a lackey of the place, with a letter, which the priest, when he left, had given us for a friend of his in the Eternal City. We went to a large house, and on ringing, were admitted by a porter into a cloister, where I saw some ill-looking, shabby young fellows walking about, who spoke English to one another. To one of these the porter delivered the letter, and the young fellow going away, presently returned and told me to follow him; he led me into a large room, where, behind a table, on which were various papers, and a thing, which they call in that country a crucifix, sat a man in a kind of priestly dress. The lad having opened the door for me, shut it behind me, and went away. The man behind the table was so engaged in reading the letter which I had brought, that at first he took no notice of me; he had red hair, a kind of half-English countenance, and was seemingly about five-and-thirty. After a little time he laid the letter down, appeared to consider a moment, and then opened his mouth with a strange laugh, not a loud laugh, for I heard nothing but a kind of hissing deep down the throat; all of a sudden, however, perceiving me, he gave a slight start, but instantly recovering himself, he inquired in English concerning the health of the family, and where we lived; on my delivering him a card, he bade me inform my master and the ladies that in the course of the day he would do himself the honour of waiting upon them. He then arose and opened the door for me to depart; the man was perfectly civil and courteous, but I did not like that strange laugh of his, after having read the letter. He was as good as his word, and that same day paid us a visit. It was now arranged that we should pass the winter in Rome, to my great annoyance, for I wished to return to my native land, being heartily tired of everything connected with Italy. I was not, however, without hope that our young master would shortly arrive, when I trusted that matters, as far as the family were concerned, would be put on a better footing. In a few days our new acquaintance, who, it seems, was a mongrel Englishman, had procured a house for our accommodation; it was large enough, but not near so pleasant as that we had at Naples, which was light and airy, with a large garden. This was a dark, gloomy structure in a narrow street, with a frowning church beside it; it was not far from the place where our new friend lived, and its being so was probably the reason why he selected it. It was furnished partly with articles which we bought, and partly with those which we hired. We lived something in the same way as at Naples; but though I did not much like Naples, I yet liked it better than this place, which was so gloomy. Our new acquaintance made himself as agreeable as he could, conducting the ladies to churches and convents, and frequently passing the afternoon drinking with the governor, who was fond of a glass of brandy and water and a cigar, as the new acquaintance also was—no, I remember, he was fond of gin and water, and did not smoke. I don’t think he had so much influence over the young ladies as the other priest, which was, perhaps, owing to his not being so good-looking; but I am sure he had more influence with the governor, owing, doubtless, to his bearing him company in drinking mixed liquors, which the other priest did not do.
“He was a strange fellow, that same new acquaintance of ours, and unlike all the priests I saw in that country, and I saw plenty of various nations—they were always upon their guard, and had their features and voice modulated; but this man was subject to fits of absence, during which he would frequently mutter to himself; then, though he was perfectly civil to everybody, as far as words went, I observed that he entertained a thorough contempt for most people, especially for those whom he was making dupes. I have observed him whilst drinking with our governor, when the old man’s head was turned, look at him with an air which seemed to say, ‘What a thundering old fool you are!’ and at our young ladies, when their backs were turned, with a glance which said distinctly enough, ‘You precious pair of ninnyhammers’; and then his laugh—he had two kinds of laughs—one which you could hear, and another which you could only see. I have seen him laugh at our governor and the young ladies, when their heads were turned away, but I heard no sound. My mother had a sandy cat, which sometimes used to open its mouth wide with a mew which nobody could hear, and the silent laugh of that red-haired priest used to put me wonderfully in mind of the silent mew of my mother’s sandy-red cat. And then the other laugh, which you could hear; what a strange laugh that was, never loud, yes, I have heard it tolerably loud. He once passed near me, after having taken leave of a silly English fellow—a limping parson of the name of Platitude, who they said was thinking of turning Papist, and was much in his company; I was standing behind the pillar of a piazza, and as he passed he was laughing heartily. Oh, he was a strange fellow, that same red-haired acquaintance of ours!
“After we had been at Rome about six weeks, our old friend the priest of Naples arrived, but without his subordinate, for whose services he now perhaps thought that he had no occasion. I believe he found matters in our family wearing almost as favourable an aspect as he could desire: with what he had previously taught them and shown them at Naples and elsewhere, and with what the red-haired confederate had taught them and shown them at Rome, the poor young ladies had become quite handmaids of superstition, so that they, especially the youngest, were prepared to bow down to anything, and kiss anything however vile and ugly, provided a priest commanded them; and as for the old governor, what with the influence which his daughters exerted, and what with the ascendancy which the red-haired man had obtained over him, he dared not say his purse, far less his soul, was his own. Only think of an Englishman not being master of his own purse. My acquaintance, the lady’s maid, assured me, that to her certain knowledge, he had disbursed to the red-haired man, for purposes of charity, as it was said, at least one thousand pounds during the five weeks we had been at Rome. She also told me that things would shortly be brought to a conclusion, and so indeed they were, though in a different manner from what she and I and some other people imagined; that there was to be a grand festival, and a mass, at which we were to be present, after which the family were to be presented to the Holy Father, for so those two priestly sharks had managed it; and then—she said she was certain that the two ladies, and perhaps the old governor, would forsake the religion of their native land, taking up with that of these foreign regions, for so my fellow-servant expressed it, and that perhaps attempts might be made to induce us poor English servants to take up with the foreign religion, that is, herself and me, for as for our fellow-servant, the other maid, she wanted no inducing, being disposed body and soul to go over to it. Whereupon, I swore with an oath that nothing should induce me to take up with the foreign religion; and the poor maid, my fellow-servant, bursting into tears, said that for her part she would sooner die than have anything to do with it; thereupon we shook hands and agreed to stand by and countenance one another: and moreover, provided our governors were fools enough to go over to the religion of these here foreigners, we would not wait to be asked to do the like, but leave them at once, and make the best of our way home, even if we were forced to beg on the road.
“At last the day of the grand festival came, and we were all to go to the big church to hear the mass. Now it happened that for some time past I had been much afflicted with melancholy, especially when I got up of a morning, produced by the strange manner in which I saw things going on in our family; and to dispel it in some degree, I had been in the habit of taking a dram before breakfast. On the morning in question, feeling particularly low-spirited when I thought of the foolish step our governor would probably take before evening, I took two drams before breakfast; and after breakfast, feeling my melancholy still continuing, I took another, which produced a slight effect upon my head, though I am convinced nobody observed it.
“Away we drove to the big church; it was a dark, misty day, I remember, and very cold, so that if anybody had noticed my being slightly in liquor, I could have excused myself by saying that I had merely taken a glass to fortify my constitution against the weather; and of one thing I am certain, which is, that such an excuse would have stood me in stead with our governor, who looked, I thought, as if he had taken one too; but I may be mistaken, and why should I notice him, seeing that he took no notice of me: so away we drove to the big church, to which all the population of the place appeared to be moving.
“On arriving there we dismounted, and the two priests who were with us led the family in, whilst I followed at a little distance, but quickly lost them amidst the throng of people. I made my way, however, though in what direction I knew not, except it was one in which everybody seemed striving, and by dint of elbowing and pushing, I at last got to a place which looked like the aisle of a cathedral, where the people stood in two rows, a space between being kept open by certain strangely-dressed men who moved up and down with rods in their hands; all were looking to the upper end of this place or aisle; and at the upper end, separated from the people by palings like those of an altar, sat in magnificent-looking stalls, on the right and the left, various wonderful-looking individuals in scarlet dresses. At the farther end was what appeared to be an altar, on the left hand was a pulpit, and on the right a stall higher than any of the rest, where was a figure whom I could scarcely see.
“I can’t pretend to describe what I saw exactly, for my head, which was at first rather flurried, had become more so from the efforts which I had made to get through the crowd; also from certain singing which proceeded from I know not where, and above all from the bursts of an organ which were occasionally so loud that I thought the roof, which was painted with wondrous colours, would come toppling down on those below. So there stood I, a poor English servant, in that outlandish place, in the midst of that foreign crowd, looking at that outlandish sight, hearing those outlandish sounds, and occasionally glancing at our party, which, by this time, I distinguished at the opposite side to where I stood, but much nearer the place where the red figures sat. Yes, there stood our poor governor, and the sweet young ladies, and I thought they never looked so handsome before, and close by them were the sharking priests, and not far from them was that idiotical parson Platitude, winking and grinning, and occasionally lifting up his hands as if in ecstasy at what he saw and heard, so that he drew upon himself the notice of the congregation.
“And now an individual mounted the pulpit, and began to preach in a language which I did not understand, but which I believe to be Latin, addressing himself seemingly to the figure in the stall; and when he had ceased, there was more singing, more organ playing, and then two men in robes brought forth two things which they held up; and then the people bowed their heads, and our poor governor bowed his head, and the sweet young ladies bowed their heads, and the sharking priests, whilst the idiotical parson Platitude tried to fling himself down; and then there were various evolutions withinside the pale, and the scarlet figures got up and sat down, and this kind of thing continued for some time; at length the figure which I had seen in the principal stall came forth and advanced towards the people; an awful figure he was, a huge old man with a sugar-loaf hat, with a sulphur-coloured dress, and holding a crook in his hand like that of a shepherd; and as he advanced the people fell on their knees, our poor old governor amongst them; the sweet young ladies, the sharking priests, the idiotical parson Platitude all fell on their knees, and somebody or other tried to pull me on my knees, but by this time I had become outrageous; all that my poor brother used to tell me of the superstitions of the high Barbary shore rushed into my mind, and I thought they were acting them over here; above all, the idea that the sweet young ladies, to say nothing of my poor old governor, were, after the conclusion of all this mummery, going to deliver themselves up body and soul into the power of that horrid-looking old man, maddened me, and, rushing forward into the open space, I confronted the horrible-looking old figure with the sugar-loaf hat, the sulphur-coloured garments, and shepherd’s crook, and shaking my fist at his nose, I bellowed out in English:—
“‘I don’t care for you, old Mumbo Jumbo, though you have fetish!’
“I can scarcely tell you what occurred for some time. I have a dim recollection that hands were laid upon me, and that I struck out violently left and right. On coming to myself, I was seated on a stone bench in a large room, something like a guarde room, in the custody of certain fellows dressed like Merry Andrews; they were bluff, good-looking, wholesome fellows, very different from the sallow Italians; they were looking at me attentively, and occasionally talking to each other in a language which sounded very like the cracking of walnuts in the mouth, very different from cooing Italian. At last one of them asked me in Italian what had ailed me, to which I replied, in an incoherent manner, something about Mumbo Jumbo; whereupon the fellow, one of the bluffest of the lot, a jovial, rosy-faced rascal, lifted up his right hand, placing it in such a manner that the lips were between the forefinger and thumb, then lifting up his right foot and drawing back his head, he sucked in his breath with a hissing sound, as if to imitate one drinking a hearty draught, and then slapped me on the shoulder, saying something which sounded like goot wine, goot companion, whereupon they all laughed, exclaiming, ya, ya, goot companion. And now hurried into the room our poor old governor, with the red-haired priest; the first asked what could have induced me to behave in such a manner in such a place, to which I replied that I was not going to bow down to Mumbo Jumbo, whatever other people might do. Whereupon my master said he believed I was mad, and the priest said he believed I was drunk; to which I answered that I was neither so mad nor drunk but I could distinguish how the wind lay. Whereupon they left me, and in a little time I was told by the bluff-looking Merry Andrews I was at liberty to depart. I believe the priest, in order to please my governor, interceded for me in high quarters.
“But one good resulted from this affair; there was no presentation of our family to the Holy Father, for old Mumbo was so frightened by my outrageous looks that he was laid up for a week, as I was afterwards informed.
“I went home, and had scarcely been there half an hour when I was sent for by the governor, who again referred to the scene in church, said that he could not tolerate such scandalous behaviour and that unless I promised to be more circumspect in future, he should be compelled to discharge me. I said that if he was scandalised at my behaviour in the church, I was more scandalised at all I saw going on in the family, which was governed by two rascally priests, who, not content with plundering him, appeared bent on hurrying the souls of us all to destruction; and that with respect to discharging me, he could do so that moment, as I wished to go. I believe his own reason told him that I was right, for he made no direct answer; but, after looking on the ground for some time, he told me to leave him. As he did not tell me to leave the house, I went to my room intending to lie down for an hour or two; but scarcely was I there when the door opened, and in came the red-haired priest. He showed himself, as he always did, perfectly civil, asked me how I was, took a chair and sat down. After a hem or two he entered into a long conversation on the excellence of what he called the Catholic religion; told me that he hoped I would not set myself against the light, and likewise against my interest; for that the family were about to embrace the Catholic religion, and would make it worth my while to follow their example. I told him that the family might do what they pleased, but that I would never forsake the religion of my country for any consideration whatever; that I was nothing but a poor servant, but I was not to be bought by base gold. ‘I admire your honourable feelings,’ said he; ‘you shall have no gold; and as I see you are a fellow of spirit, and do not like being a servant, for which I commend you, I can promise you something better. I have a good deal of influence in this place, and if you will not set your face against the light, but embrace the Catholic religion, I will undertake to make your fortune. You remember those fine fellows to-day who took you into custody, they are the guards of his Holiness. I have no doubt that I have interest enough to procure your enrolment amongst them.’ ‘What,’ said I, ‘become swash buckler to Mumbo Jumbo up here! May I ---’—and here I swore—‘if I do. The mere possibility of one of their children being swash-buckler to Mumbo Jumbo on the high Barbary shore has always been a source of heart-breaking to my poor parents. What, then, would they not undergo if they knew for certain that their other child was swash-buckler to Mumbo Jumbo up here?’ Thereupon he asked me, even as you did some time ago, what I meant by Mumbo Jumbo? And I told him all I had heard about the Mumbo Jumbo of the high Barbary shore; telling him that I had no doubt that the old fellow up here was his brother, or nearly related to him. The man with the red hair listened with the greatest attention to all I said, and when I had concluded, he got up, nodded to me, and moved to the door; ere he reached the door I saw his shoulders shaking, and as he closed it behind him I heard him distinctly laughing, to the tune of—he! he! he!
“But now matters began to mend. That same evening my young master unexpectedly arrived. I believe he soon perceived that something extraordinary had been going on in the family. He was for some time closeted with the governor, with whom, I believe, he had a dispute; for my fellow-servant, the ladies’ maid, informed me that she heard high words.
“Rather late at night the young gentleman sent for me into his room, and asked me various questions with respect to what had been going on, and my behaviour in the church, of which he had heard something. I told him all I knew with respect to the intrigues of the two priests in the family, and gave him a circumstantial account of all that had occurred in the church, adding that, under similar circumstances, I was ready to play the same part over again. Instead of blaming me, he commended my behaviour, told me I was a fine fellow, and said he hoped that if he wanted my assistance, I would stand by him: this I promised to do. Before I left him, he entreated me to inform him the very next time I saw the priests entering the house.
“The next morning, as I was in the court-yard, where I had placed myself to watch, I saw the two enter and make their way up a private stair to the young ladies’ apartment; they were attended by a man dressed something like a priest, who bore a large box; I instantly ran to relate what I had seen to my young master. I found him shaving. ‘I will just finish what I am about,’ said he, ‘and then wait upon these gentlemen.’ He finished what he was about with great deliberation, then taking a horsewhip, and bidding me follow him, he proceeded at once to the door of his sisters’ apartment: finding it fastened, he burst it open at once with his foot and entered, followed by myself. There we beheld the two unfortunate young ladies down on their knees before a large female doll, dressed up, as usual, in rags and tinsel; the two priests were standing near, one on either side, with their hands uplifted, whilst the fellow who brought the trumpery stood a little way down the private stair, the door of which stood open; without a moment’s hesitation, my young master rushed forward, gave the image a cut or two with his horsewhip, then flying at the priests, he gave them a sound flogging, kicked them down the private stair, and spurned the man, box and image after them; then locking the door, he gave his sisters a fine sermon, in which he represented to them their folly in worshipping a silly wooden graven image, which, though it had eyes, could see not; though it had ears, could hear not; though it had hands, could not help itself; and though it had feet, could not move about unless it were carried. Oh, it was a fine sermon that my young master preached, and sorry I am that the Father of the Fetish, old Mumbo, did not hear it. The elder sister looked ashamed, but the youngest, who was very weak, did nothing but wring her hands, weep and bewail the injury which had been done to the dear image. The young man, however, without paying much regard to either of them went to his father, with whom he had a long conversation, which terminated in the old governor giving orders for preparations to be made for the family’s leaving Rome and returning to England. I believe that the old governor was glad of his son’s arrival, and rejoiced at the idea of getting away from Italy, where he had been so plundered and imposed upon. The priests, however, made another attempt upon the poor young ladies. By the connivance of the female servant who was in their interest, they found their way once more into their apartment, bringing with them the fetish image, whose body they partly stripped, exhibiting upon it certain sanguine marks which they had daubed upon it with red paint, but which they said were the result of the lashes which it had received from the horsewhip. The youngest girl believed all they said, and kissed and embraced the dear image; but the eldest, whose eyes had been opened by her brother, to whom she was much attached, behaved with proper dignity; for, going to the door, she called the female servant who had a respect for me, and in her presence reproached the two deceivers for their various impudent cheats, and especially for this their last attempt at imposition; adding, that if they did not forthwith withdraw and rid her sister and herself of their presence, she would send word by her maid to her brother, who would presently take effectual means to expel them. They took the hint and departed, and we saw no more of them.
“At the end of three days we departed from Rome, but the maid whom the priests had cajoled remained behind, and it is probable that the youngest of our ladies would have done the same thing if she could have had her own will, for she was continually raving about her image, and saying, she should wish to live with it in a convent; but we watched the poor thing, and got her on board ship. Oh, glad was I to leave that fetish country, and old Mumbo behind me!”
CHAPTER C.
“We arrived in England, and went to our country seat, but the peace and tranquillity of the family had been marred, and I no longer found my place the pleasant one which it had formerly been; there was nothing but gloom in the house, for the youngest daughter exhibited signs of lunacy, and was obliged to be kept under confinement. The next season I attended my master, his son and eldest daughter to London, as I had previously done. There I left them, for hearing that a young baronet, an acquaintance of the family, wanted a servant, I applied for the place, with the consent of my masters, both of whom gave me a strong recommendation, and being approved of, I went to live with him.
“My new master was what is called a sporting character, very fond of the turf, upon which he was not very fortunate. He was frequently very much in want of money, and my wages were anything but regularly paid; nevertheless, I liked him very much, for he treated me more like a friend than a domestic, continually consulting me as to his affairs. At length he was brought nearly to his last shifts, by backing the favourite at the Derby, which favourite turned out a regular brute, being found nowhere at the rush. Whereupon, he and I had a solemn consultation over fourteen glasses of brandy and water, and as many cigars—I mean, between us—as to what was to be done. He wished to start a coach, in which event he was to be driver and I guard. He was quite competent to drive a coach, being a first-rate whip, and I dare say I should have made a first-rate guard; but to start a coach requires money, and we neither of us believed that anybody would trust us with vehicles and horses, so that idea was laid aside. We then debated as to whether or not he should go into the Church; but to go into the Church—at any rate to become a dean or bishop, which would have been our aim—it is necessary for a man to possess some education; and my master, although he had been at the best school in England, that is, the most expensive, and also at College, was almost totally illiterate, so we let the Church scheme follow that of the coach. At last, bethinking me that he was tolerably glib at the tongue, as most people are who are addicted to the turf, also a great master of slang, remembering also that he had a crabbed old uncle, who had some borough interest, I proposed that he should get into the House, promising in one fortnight to qualify him to make a figure in it, by certain lessons which I would give him. He consented; and during the next fortnight I did little else than give him lessons in elocution, following to a tittle the method of the great professor, which I had picked up listening behind the door. At the end of that period, we paid a visit to his relation, an old gouty Tory, who, at first, received us very coolly. My master, however, by flattering a predilection of his for Billy Pitt, soon won his affections so much that he promised to bring him into Parliament, and in less than a month was as good as his word. My master, partly by his own qualifications, and partly by the assistance which he had derived, and still occasionally derived, from me, cut a wonderful figure in the House, and was speedily considered one of the most promising speakers; he was always a good hand at promising. He is at present, I believe, a Cabinet minister.
“But as he got up in the world, he began to look down on me. I believe he was ashamed of the obligation under which he lay to me; and at last, requiring no further hints as to oratory from a poor servant like me, he took an opportunity of quarrelling with me and discharging me. However, as he had still some grace, he recommended me to a gentleman with whom, since he had attached himself to politics, he had formed an acquaintance, the editor of a grand Tory Review. I lost caste terribly amongst the servants for entering the service of a person connected with a profession so mean as literature; and it was proposed at the Servants’ Club, in Park Lane, to eject me from that society. The proposition, however, was not carried into effect, and I was permitted to show myself among them, though few condescended to take much notice of me. My master was one of the best men in the world, but also one of the most sensitive. On his veracity being impugned by the editor of a newspaper, he called him out, and shot him through the arm. Though servants are seldom admirers of their masters, I was a great admirer of mine, and eager to follow his example. The day after the encounter, on my veracity being impugned by the servant of Lord C--- in something I said in praise of my master I determined to call him out, so I went into another room and wrote a challenge. But whom should I send it by? Several servants to whom I applied refused to be the bearers of it; they said I had lost caste, and they could not think of going out with me. At length the servant of the Duke of B--- consented to take it; but he made me to understand that, though he went out with me, he did so merely because he despised the Whiggish principles of Lord C---’s servant, and that if I thought he intended to associate with me, I should be mistaken. Politics, I must tell you, at that time ran as high amongst the servants as the gentlemen, the servants, however, being almost invariably opposed to the politics of their respective masters, though both parties agreed in one point, the scouting of everything low and literary, though I think, of the two, the liberal or reform party were the most inveterate. So he took my challenge, which was accepted; we went out, Lord C---’s servant being seconded by a reformado footman from the Palace. We fired three times without effect; but this affair lost me my place, my master on hearing it forthwith discharged me; he was, as I have said before, very sensitive, and he said this duel of mine was a parody of his own. Being, however, one of the best men in the world, on his discharging me he made me a donation of twenty pounds.
“And it was well that he made me this present, for without it I should have been penniless, having contracted rather expensive habits during the time that I lived with the young baronet. I now determined to visit my parents, whom I had not seen for years. I found them in good health, and, after staying with them for two months, I returned again in the direction of town, walking in order to see the country. On the second day of my journey, not being used to such fatigue, I fell ill at a great inn on the north road, and there I continued for some weeks till I recovered, but by that time my money was entirely spent. By living at the inn I had contracted an acquaintance with the master and the people, and become accustomed to inn life. As I thought that I might find some difficulty in procuring any desirable situation in London, owing to my late connection with literature, I determined to remain where I was, provided my services would be accepted. I offered them to the master, who, finding I knew something of horses, engaged me as a postillion. I have remained there since. You have now heard my story.
“Stay, you sha’n’t say that I told my tale without a per—peroration. What shall it be? Oh, I remember something which will serve for one. As I was driving my chaise some weeks ago, on my return from L---, I saw standing at the gate of an avenue, which led up to an old mansion, a figure which I thought I recognised. I looked at it attentively, and the figure, as I passed, looked at me; whether it remembered me I do not know, but I recognised the face it showed me full well.
“If it was not the identical face of the red-haired priest whom I had seen at Rome, may I catch cold!
“Young gentleman, I will now take a spell on your blanket—young lady, good-night.”
[End of Vol. III., 1851.]
THE EDITOR’S POSTSCRIPT.
Lavengro and The Romany Rye (properly Romanó Ráï) were terms applied to George Borrow in his youth by the Norfolk Gypsy, Ambrose Smith, better known in these volumes as Jasper Petulengro. The names signify respectively “Philologist” and “the Gypsy Gentleman”. The two works thus entitled constitute a more or less exact autobiography of the writer of them, from the date of his birth to the end of August, 1825. The author himself confesses in his Preface that “the time embraces nearly the first quarter of the present century”.
Lavengro was written at Oulton, in Suffolk, slowly and at intervals, between the years 1842 and 1851. The MSS. exist in three varieties: 1. The primitive draft of a portion, found scattered through sundry notebooks and on isolated scraps of paper, as described in the letter to Dawson Turner (Life, i., p. 394). 2. The definitive autograph text in one thick quarto volume. 3. The transcript for the printers, made by Mrs. Borrow, in one large folio volume, interlarded with the author’s additions and corrections.
The text of the present edition reproduces with fidelity the first issue of 1851. Occasionally a verbal alteration, introduced by the author himself into his second edition of 1872, has been adopted in this, whenever it seemed to improve the reading. In general, however, that reprint was in many respects a defective one. Not only words, but even whole sentences, which had escaped the printers, remained undetected by the editor, and, as a consequence, were lost to later impressions, based, as they all have been, on that issue. We should have preferred to alter, quietly and without remark, certain errors in the text, as we did in the documents published in the Life; but save in a single instance, we have left such inaccuracies intact, reserving all corrections for the place where we might be supposed to exercise a free hand. [553]
The insertion, with brackets of course, of the promised inedited episodes, caused in two cases some embarrassment. In removing them from the final form of his MS., Mr. Borrow closed up the gap with a few fitting lines which concealed the withdrawal. These words had to be suppressed on the restoration of the passages.
The insertions will be met with as follows:—
The Poet Parkinson, pp. 119-25.
The Wake of Freya, pp. 128-33.
Cromwell’s Statue and the Dairyman’s Daughter, pp. 196-98.
Portobello or the Irish Patriot, pp. 231-39.
Thomas d’Éterville, in the Notes, pp. 558-59.
Thus we have made a full statement as regards the text of the present reprint. Any one who takes up this edition will discover no visible name, or preface, or introduction, save only those of George Borrow, from the title to the close. The book is, therefore, “all Borrow,” and we have sought to render the helping hand as inconspicuous as possible. Should, however, the prejudiced stumble at the Notes, we can say in the language of the fairy smith of Loughmore: is agad an t-leigheas, you have the remedy in your own power.
Speaking of the Notes, they have been drawn up on the unimpeachable testimony of contemporaneous record. Especially have we sought the works which Mr. Borrow was accustomed to read in his younger days, and at times with curious results. A list of these is given at the close of The Romany Rye, and is referred to in these notes as “Bibliography” for the sake of concision. What is not here explained can be easily looked up in our Life, Writings, and Correspondence of George Borrow, London, 1899, which of itself furnishes a sufficient and unalterable exhibition of the facts concerning the man and his work.
W. I. Knapp.
High St., Oxford,
November, 1899.
NOTES TO LAVENGRO,
WITH
CORRECTIONS, IDENTIFICATIONS AND TRANSLATIONS.
Page 1. East D---: East Dereham, a small town in Norfolk, 16 miles W. of Norwich, and 102 N.E. of London. Here Capt. Thomas Borrow, the father of George, was often stationed from 1792 to 1812.—1. East Anglia: This Anglo-Saxon kingdom comprised the present counties of Norfolk, Suffolk and Cambridge.—1. Tredinnock, read Trethinnick; Parish of St. Cleer, Cornwall.—2. Big Ben: Benjamin Brain or Bryan was born in 1753. Some of his most severe “battles” were fought between 1780 and 1790—one on the 30th of August in the latter year, with Hooper at Newbury, Berks. A few days after this exploit, he picked a quarrel with Sergeant Borrow of the Coldstream Guards, which resulted in the Hyde Park encounter. Some four months later, i.e., 17th January, 1791, the decisive fight for the championship came off between Brain and Johnson. It was an appalling spectacle, and struck dumb with horror, even in that day, the witnesses to the dreadful conflict. Big Ben was the victor, and remained champion of England from that date until his death three years (not “four months”) later—8th April, 1794. “Lavengro,” carried away by the enthusiasm of early reminiscence, allowed himself to declare that his father read the Bible to Brain in his latter moments. But in 1794 Thomas Borrow was busy recruiting soldiers in Norfolk, one hundred miles from the scene of the dying pugilist. However, the error was probably one of date merely, and during the year 1791 Thomas doubtless read the Bible to him in London, since we learn from Pierce Egan that “Ben derived great consolation from hearing the Bible read, and generally solicited those of his acquaintance who called upon him to read a chapter to him”. [555]—3. Captain: The West Norfolk Militia was raised in 1759 by the third Earl of Orford. He died in December, 1791, when the regiment was reorganised (not “raised”) under the new Colonel, the Hon. Horatio Walpole, subsequently the sixth Earl of Orford. Thus in February, 1792, Thomas was transferred from the Guards to be Sergeant-major in the W.N.M., and stationed at East Dereham. He married the following year, became Quarter-master (with the rank of Ensign) in 1795, and Adjutant (Lieutenant) in February, 1798. This his final promotion doubtless gave him the honorary rank of Captain, since in the Monthly Army List for 1804 we read: “Adjutant, Thomas Borrow, Capt.”. But a letter before me dated 18th April, 1799, from his Major, is officially addressed to him as “Lieut. Borrow, Adjutant,” etc., etc.—3. Petrement: Our author knew very well that his mother’s maiden name was Ann Perfrement, pronounced and written Parfrement at the present day by those of the family we have met. The correct spelling is found on the tombstone of her sister, Sarah, at Dereham (1817), and on that of her brother, Samuel, at Salthouse near Holt (1864).—3. Castle of De Burgh: A fanciful Borrovian epithet applied to Norwich Castle. Nor did the exiles build the Church of St. Mary-the-Less, in Queen Street, Norwich; it was a distinct parish church long before Elizabeth’s reign, and in her time the parish was consolidated with the neighbouring one of St. George’s, Tombland, while the church became municipal property. But the French exiles of the Edict of 1685 did worship there, even as did the Dutch refugees from Alva’s persecution a century before (1565-70).—4. Middle Age: Borrow’s father was thirty-four, and his mother twenty-one, at the date of their marriage. John was born seven years after the marriage, and George ten. The mother was, then, thirty-one at George’s birth.—4. Bishop Hopkins: Sermons.—4. Angola: More correctly Angora.—5. Foreign grave: Lieut. John Thomas Borrow died at Guanajuato, Mexico, 22nd November, 1833.
Pages 12-13. “Snorro” Sturleson: Poet and historian of Iceland (1178-1241). Harald (not Harold) III., called “Haardraade”. Battle of Stamford Bridge, a.d. 1066, same year as Norman Conquest. See Mallet’s Northern Antiquities, pp. 168-71 and 194; Snorro’s Heimskringla, ii., p. 164, and his Chronica, 1633, p. 381, for the quotation; also Bibliog. at end of Romany Rye.—13. Winchester: Rather Winchelsea, according to the Regimental Records.—14. A gallant frigate: A reminiscence of Norman Cross gossip in 1810-11. “Ninety-eight French prisoners, the crew of a large French privateer of eighteen guns called the Contre-Amiral Magon, and commanded by the notorious Blackman, were captured 16th October, 1804, by Capt. Hancock of the Cruiser sloop, and brought into Yarmouth. They marched into Norwich, 26th November, and the next morning proceeded under guard on their way to Norman Cross barracks”—Norwich Papers, 1804.—15. Lady Bountiful: Dame Eleanor Fenn (1743-1813).—15. Bard: William Cowper (1731-1800).—16. Some Saint: Withburga, daughter of Anna, king of the East Angles, was the “saint” and the “daughter” at the same time.—19. Hunchbacked rhymer: Alexander Pope.—20. Properties of God, read attributes.—20. Rector: The Rev. F. J. H. Wollaston.—20. Philoh: James Philo (1745-1829).—21. Tolerism, read toleration.—24. Mere: Whittlesea Mere, long since drained.—31. Bengui: See the vocabulary at the end for all Gypsy words in this volume.—34. Jasper: The change from Ambrose to Jasper was made in pencil in Mrs. Borrow’s transcript at the last moment in 1849, before handing it to the printers.—38. Three years: Included in the subsequent narrative, not excluded from it as his Norwich school days (1814-15, 1816-18) were. They extend from July, 1811, to April, 1813—from Norman Cross to Edinburgh. The chronology, according to the Regimental Records, was as follows: George was at East Dereham from 22nd July to 18th November, 1811, at J. S. Buck’s (“Dr. B.’s”) school; 30th November, 1811, to February, 1812, at Colchester; 28th February to 5th March, 1812, at Harwich; 15th to 19th March, at Leicester; 21st to 30th March, at Melton Mowbray; 2nd to 25th April, at Leicester again; 28th April to 3rd May, at Tamworth (Lavengro, pp. 367-68); 8th to 26th May, at Macclesfield; 28th May to 2nd August, at Stockport; 3rd to 23rd August, at Ashton; 24th August to 15th December, at Huddersfield (W. W., p. 64, and Lavengro, pp. 39-41); 16th December, 1812, to 19th March, 1813, at Sheffield; 20th and 21st March, 1813, at Leeds; 22nd March, at Wetherby; 23rd March, Boroughbridge; 24th March, Allerton; 25th March, Darlington; 26th March, Durham (W. W., pp. 258-59); 27th and 28th March, Newcastle; 29th March, Morpeth; 30th March, Alnwick; 3rd and 4th April, at Berwick-upon-Tweed; 6th April, 1813, Edinburgh Castle.—38. Lilly: See Bibliog.
Page 42. Bank of a river: The Tweed. The scene here described occurred on a Sunday, 4th April, 1813, near Berwick, where they “arrived the preceding night” (p. 44).—42. Elvir Hill: See Borrow’s Romantic Ballads, Norwich, 1826, pp. 111-14. This piece entitled “Elvir Hill,” one of the old Danish ballads of Vedel’s collection, 1591, represents the dangers attending a youth who “rested” his “head upon Elvir Hill’s side” where he was so charmed in his sleep by a brace of seductive fairies, that
“If my good luck had not managed it so
That the cock crew out then in the distance,
I should have been murder’d by them on the Hill,
Without power to offer resistance.“’Tis therefore I counsel each young Danish swain
Who may ride in the forest so dreary,
Ne’er to lay down upon lone Elvir Hill
Though he chance to be ever so weary.”
43. Skaldaglam: The barditus of Tacitus, or the “din” made by the Norse “bards” (skalds) on shields and with shouts as they rushed into battle. It is not in Molbech, but Snorro frequently uses it in his Chronica, 1633.—43. Kalevala: Title of the great Finnish epic, of which the hero is Woinomöinen.—43. Polak: Polander or Pole.—43. Magyar (pron. Mädjr): Hungarian.—43. Batuscha: An erratum of the author for his Batuschca (161)—better Batyushca, “father Tsar”—but generally applied by Borrow to his friend the Pope.—45 to 55: See Life, i., pp. 39-43.—46. Bui hin Digri: The Jomsburg Viking, a.d. 994. See Borrow’s Romantic Ballads, p. 136, and Once A Week, ix., p. 686. The account is given in Snorro’s Chronica, 1633, p. 136 (see Bibliog.), but a more accessible version of it is found in Mallet’s Northern Antiquities (Bohn’s ed.), pp. 144-45.—46. Horunga Vog, read Hjörúnga Vâgr in Icelandic, or Vaag in Danish. In Romany Rye (p. 359) it is Englished as “Horinger Bay”.—50. Hickathrift: A Norfolk worthy of the eleventh century, whose prodigious exploits with the axle of his cart as an offensive weapon, and the wheel as a shield, are handed down in the chap-books of the last three centuries. See p. 63; also Bibliog. at the end of Romany Rye.—51. Elzigood: William E., of Heigham, Norwich, enlisted October, 1789, became Drum-major in the regiment, 22nd October, 1802; called facetiously or maliciously Else-than-gude on p. 54.—55. O’Hanlon: Redmond O’Hanlon (d. 1681), a proprietor of Ulster, dispossessed under the Cromwellian settlement, and afterwards leader of a band of outlaws.—56. Disbanded: The W.N.M. regiment left Edinburgh in July, 1814, and was disembodied at Norwich, 19th July. It was again called out, 10th July, 1815, and sent to Ireland. John Borrow was appointed Ensign, 29th May, 1815, and Lieutenant, 13th December of the same year. The regiment sailed from Harwich (“port in Essex”) 31st August, reaching Cork harbour (“the cove”) about 9th September, 1815. 63. Wight Wallace (story book of): See Bibliog.
Page 63. Shorsha: The Irish for George, properly written Seors, but the author usually wrote his Irish by sound.—64. Saggart, read sagart: (Lat. sacerdos), a priest.—64. Finn-ma-Coul: In Irish Fionn-mac-Cumhail, the father of Ossian.—64. Brian Boroo: In Irish, Brian Boroimhe, a king of Ireland (926-1014).—65. Saggarting: Studying with reference to the priesthood.—65. Mavourneen: Properly mo mhuirnin, my darling.—65. Hanam mon Dioul: Wrongly given for M’anam o’n Diabhal [God preserve] my soul from the devil! See Romany Rye, p. 286, where it is quite correct—from sound.—66. Christmas over: 1816. Regiment quartered at Templemore. John, now a lieutenant (not “ensign”), is sent with a detachment to Loughmore, three miles away. Sergeant Bagg, promoted to that rank, 10th July, 1815, accompanies him.—66. Mountain: Called locally, “Devil’s Bit,” and not Devil’s Hill or Mt., as in the text.—68. Fine old language (add: which):
“A labhair Padric ’nninsè Fail na Riogh
’San faighe caomhsin Colum naomhtha ’n I.”
(which) “Patrick spoke in Innisfail to heathen chiefs of old,
And Columb, the mild prophet-saint, spoke in his island-hold.”
So Borrow gives the Irish and his version in Romantic Ballads, p. viii. The Erse lines were taken from Lhuyd’s Archæologia Britannica, Oxford, 1707, sign. d.—69. The Castle: Loughmore Castle.—71. Figure of a man: Jerry Grant, the Irish outlaw. See the Newgate Calendars subsequent to 1840—Pelham. Griffith, etc.—72 and 83. “Sas” and “Sassanach,” of course mean Englishman or English (Saxon).—74. Clergyman of the parish: The Rev. Patrick Kennedy, vicar of Loughmore. His name is also on the list of subscribers to the Romantic Ballads, Norwich, 1826, as J. Kennedy, by mistake.—76. Swanton Morley: A village near East Dereham.—82. Arrigod yuit (Irish), read airgiod dhuit: Have you any money?—82. Tabhair chugam (pron. tower khoogam): Give (it) to me.—83. Is agam an’t leigeas (read an t-leigheas): I have the remedy.—83. Another word: deaghbhlasda: See Romany Rye, p. 266, and Notes and Queries, 5th May, 1855, p. 339, article by George Métivier.
Page 84. Old city: Norwich. The regiment having returned to head-quarters, 11th May, 1816, was mustered out 17th June. The author describes the city from the “ruined wall” of the old Priory on the hill to the east.—85. The Norman Bridge: is Bishop’s Bridge.—85. Sword of Cordova, in Guild Hall, is a mistake for the sword of the Spanish General Don Xavier Winthuysen.—90. Vone banished priest: Rev. Thomas d’Éterville. The MS. gives the following inedited account of D’Éterville. I omit the oft-recurring expletive sacré (accursed):—
[Myself. Were you not yourself forced to flee from your country?
D’Éterville. That’s very true. . . . I became one vagabond—nothing better, I assure you, my dear; had you seen me, you would have said so. I arrive at Douvres; no welcome. I walk to Canterbury and knock at the door of one auberge. The landlord opens. “What do you here?” he says; “who are you?” “Vone exiled priest,” I reply. “Get you gone, sirrah!” he says; “we have beggars enough of our own,” and he slams the door in my face. Ma foi, il faisoit bien, for my toe was sticking through my shoe.
Myself. But you are no longer a vagabond, and your toe does not stick through your shoe now.
D’Éterville. No, thank God, the times are changed. I walked and walked, till I came here, where I became one philologue and taught tongues—French and Italian. I found good friends here, those of my religion. “He very good man,” they say; “one banished priest; we must help him.” I am no longer a vagabond—ride a good horse when I go to visit pupils in the country—stop at auberge—landlord comes to the door: “What do you please to want, sir?” “Only to bait my horse, that is all.” Eh bien, landlord very polite; he not call me vagabond; I carry pistols in my pocket.
Myself. I know you do; I have often seen them. But why do you carry pistols?
D’Éterville. I ride along the road from the distant village. I have been to visit my pupil whom I instruct in philology. My pupil has paid me my bill, and I carry in my purse the fruits of my philology. I come to one dark spot. Suddenly my bridle is seized, and one tall robber stands at my horse’s head with a very clumsy club in his hand. “Stand, rascal,” says he; “your life or your purse!” “Very good, sir,” I respond; “there you have it.” So I put my hand, not into my pocket, but into my holster; I draw out, not my purse, but my weapon, and—bang! I shoot the English robber through the head.
Myself. It is a bad thing to shed blood; I should be loth to shoot a robber to save a purse.
D’Éterville. Que tu es bête! mon ami. Am I to be robbed of the fruits of my philology, made in foreign land, by one English robber? Shall I become once more one vagabond as of old? one exiled priest turned from people’s doors, my shoe broken, toe sticking through it, like that bad poet who put the Pope in hell? Bah, bah!
By degrees D’Éterville acquired a considerable fortune for one in his station. Some people go so far as to say that it was principally made by an extensive contraband trade in which he was engaged. Be this as it may, some twenty years from the time of which I am speaking, he departed this life, and shortly before his death his fellow-religionists, who knew him to be wealthy, persuaded him to make a will, by which he bequeathed all his property to certain popish establishments in England. In his last hours, however, he repented, destroyed his first will, and made another, in which he left all he had to certain of his relations in his native country;—“for,” said he, “they think me one fool, but I will show them that they are mistaken. I came to this land one banished priest, where I made one small fortune; and now I am dying, to whom should I leave the fruits of my philology but to my blood-relations? In God’s name, let me sign. Monsieur Boileau left the fruits of his verses to his niece; eh bien, I will bequeath the fruits of my philology to my niece and nephew. There, there! thanks be to God, it is done! They take me for a fool; I am no fool. Leave to the Pope the fruits of my philology! Bah, bah! I do no such thing. I do like Monsieur Boileau.”]
Page 93. Earl’s Home: Earlham Hall, the residence of Joseph John Gurney (1788-1847), the Norwich banker and famous Quaker. The “tall figure” mentioned on the next page was Mr. Gurney, then twenty-eight years of age.—95. Only read Greek: This is a mistake. Mr. Gurney was an early student of Italian. See Braithwaite’s Life, i., pp. 25 and 49.—Zohar: Very correct. Braithwaite, i., p. 37.—Abarbenel, read Abarbanel or Abrabanel: A Spanish Jew driven from Spain in 1492. See p. 282.—97. Castle Hill: Norwich.—97. Fair of horses: Tombland Fair, held on Maundy Thursday every year.—100. Heath: Mousehold Heath, near Norwich. See also pp. 106, 161, etc.—112. “Gemiti, sospiri ed alti guai” (compare Dante, Inf., iii., 8: “Quivi sospiri, pianti, e alti guai”): Groans, sighs, and deep lamentations.—114. Ab Gwilym: See Bibliog. at the end of Romany Rye.—114. Cowydd: A species of Welsh poetry.—114. Eos (W.); Nightingale.—114. Narrow Court: Tuck’s Court, St. Giles, Norwich.—115. Old master: William Simpson of the law firm of Simpson & Rackham, Norwich.—115. Bon jour: read “Bonjour . . . ! bien des chases de ma part à Monsieur Peyrecourt or Pierrecourt”. “Expressions” in this sense (kind regards) is the Spanish expresiones, disguised as French.—118. Bwa Bach: The “little hunchback”. See p. 114.—119 to 125. Parkinson the poet: This character, who appears for the first time among the inedited episodes of Lavengro, was a real one, although his true name (Parkerson) is given somewhat veiled, as usual with Mr. Borrow. He seems to have been the poet-laureate of farmers, corn-merchants, drovers and publicans, selling his muse to the highest bidder, at first in printed sheets of eight pages, and subsequently gathered into pamphlets of thirty or more pages which he offered for one or two shillings each. They were printed by R. Walker, “near the Duke’s Palace, Norwich,” and sold by “Lane and Walker, St. Andrew’s”. They are without date, but cannot range far from 1818. Here are some specimens of his style: “The Norwich Corn Mart. By J. Parkerson, Junior.”
At one o’clock the busy scene begin,
Quick to the hall they all are posting in;
The cautious merchant takes his stand,
The farmer shows the produce of his land,
etc., for sixty-six lines. “On Mr. L . . . taking leave of his wife and children, who was sentenced to transportation for fourteen years” (!):—
Hannah, farewell, I’m bound to go,
To taste the bitter draught of woe,
134 lines. “A Description of the Pine-Apple at Trowse”:—
Both Beauty and Art have exerted their skill,
You will find on a spot near the brow of a hill;
The hill is near Norwich and call’d Bracondale,
I stept into Vince’s myself to regale,
etc., four pages of that.—124. Mr. C.: Thomas William Coke, Esq., of Holkham, Earl of Leicester in 1837, and died in 1842.
Pages 128-133. The Wake of Freya: This incident must have occurred to Mrs. Borrow at her home, Dumpling Green, East Dereham, on a Friday night, 5th December, 1783, when she was twelve (not “ten”) years old. Her eldest sister, Elizabeth, would be in her seventeenth year. Friday was then, as now, market day at Dereham. The place was the Blyth farm about one and a half miles (not “three”) from “pretty D”. The superstition referred to in this episode is, or was, a very common one in Norfolk, and even other countries. See the Norfolk Chronicle for 14th May, 1791; Glyde’s Norfolk Garland, pp. 13-14, and George Borrow in the Quarterly Review for January, 1861, p. 62.—130. Freya: The Venus of the North was the sister of Frey, according to Mallet (p. 94), and the original sources.—136. To London: Crome (John’s teacher) died at Norwich, 22nd April, 1821; but John could not leave until after the Regimental Training, which closed that year on 26th June; hence his departure may be set down for the last of June, 1821.—136. Rafael: Note spelling here (also pp. 223 and 225) and Raphael on p. 352.—137. Corregio, read Correggio.—139. Murray and Latroon, the Scotch outlaw and the “English Rogue”. See Bibliog. at the end of Romany Rye.—142. “Draoitheac,” magic, read draoidheachd (Ir.).—144. Muggletonians: Evidently a Borrovian slip here. See Notes and Queries for 3rd April, 1852, p. 320.—145. Vedel: Anders Sörensen Vedel, first collector of the Kiæmpeviser, or Heroic Ballads of the Danes, Copenh., 1591.—146. Chapter xxiii.: Interview between William Taylor (21 King Street, Norwich) and George Borrow.—151. Orm Ungarswayne: “Orm the youthful Swain,” Romantic Ballads, p. 86. But see the Danish ballad “Birting” in Borrow’s Targum, St. Petersb., 1835, pp. 59-61, commencing:—
“It was late at evening tide,
Sinks the day-star in the wave,
When alone Orm Ungarswayne
Rode to seek his father’s grave”.
—151. Swayne Vonved: See this piece in Romantic Ballads, pp. 61-81.—151. Mousha, read Muça, in Arabic or Moshé in Hebrew; both represent our Moses. But the Jew’s name was Levi, according to the MS.—153. The Fight: Between Painter and Oliver, near North Walsham, 17th July, 1820. This chapter xxiv. relates the author’s call on Mr. Petre of Westwick House, which must have been after 20th May, when it was decided that the “battle” should take place within twenty miles of Norwich.—155. Parr: There were two Parrs, one, Thomas, called “English” or “Old” Parr (1483-1635) who lived 152 years, and Samuel, called the “Greek” Parr (1747-1825,) who had been Head Master of the Norwich Grammar School from 1778 to 1785. This Dr. Samuel Parr was the one referred to by Mr. Petre.—155. Whiter: Rev. Walter Whiter, author of the Commentary on Shakespeare, Lond. 1794, and Etymologicum Magnum, Camb., 1800, 4to; enlarged ed., Camb., 1822-25, 3 vols. 4to.—156. Game Chicken: Henry Pierce, nicknamed Game Chicken, beat Gulley, 8th October, 1805 (Egan’s Boxiana, i., p. 145).—156. Sporting Gentlemen: John Thurtell and Edward Painter (“Ned Flatnose”).—158. Harmanbeck: Slang for constable—word taken from the English Rogue.—161. Batuschca (read Bátyooshca): See p. 43.—161. Priberjensky, read Préobrazhenski: Crack regiment of the Russian Imperial Guard, so called from the barracks situated near the Church of the Transfiguration (Préobrazhenïe).
Page 166. The Fight of 1820, chapter xxvi. We will here give a condensed portion of a chapter which we suppressed from the Life.
On the 20th of May, 1820, an eager crowd might have been seen pressing up to a card displayed in the Castle Tavern, Norwich. The card was signed T. C. and T. Belcher; but every one knew that the initials stood for the Champion of England, Thomas Cribb. The purport of the notice was that Edward Painter of Norwich was to fight Thomas Oliver of London for a purse of 100 guineas, on Monday, the 17th of July, in a field within twenty miles of the city.
A few days after this announcement, George Borrow was charged by his principals to convey a sum of money to a country gentleman by the name of John Berney Petre, Esq., J.P., residing at Westwick House, some thirteen and a half miles distant on the North Walsham road. The gentleman was just settling the transfer of his inheritance, his father having died eight months before. Borrow walked the entire distance, and while he tarried with the magistrate, the interview took place between him and Thurtell who desired to secure a field for the fight. Mr. Petre could not accommodate them, and they drove on to North Walsham. There they found the “pightle” which suited them in the vicinity of that town, on the road leading to Happisburgh (Hazebro).
Norwich began to fill on Saturday, the 15th of July, as the stage-coaches rolled in by the London (now Ipswich) and Newmarket roads. The Inn attached to the Bowling Green on Chapel-Field, then kept by the famous one-legged ex-coachman Dan Gurney (p. 167), was the favourite resort of the “great men” of the day. Belcher, not old Belcher of 1791, but the “Teucer” Belcher, and Cribb, the champion of England, slept at the Castle Tavern, which like Janus had two faces—backed on the Meadows and fronted on White-Lion. The Norfolk in St. Giles and the Angel on the “Walk,” housed other varieties of the sporting world.
At an early hour on Monday, the 17th, the roads were alive with pedestrians, equestrians, Jews, Gentiles and Gypsies, in coaches, barouches and vehicles of every sort. From Norwich they streamed down Tombland into Magdalen street and road, out on the Coltishall highway, and thence—sixteen and one half miles in all—to North Walsham and the field. One ancient MacGowan (the Scotch for Petulengro) stood on Coltishall bridge and counted 2050 carriages as they swept past. More than 25,000 men and thieves gathered in concentric circles about the stand.
I do not propose to attempt the description of this celebrated pugna or “battle with the fists”. Those who crave such diversions will find this one portrayed fittingly in the newspapers of the time. The closing passage of one of them has always seemed to me to be a masterpiece of grim brutality: “Oliver’s nob was exchequered, and he fell by heavy right-handed blows on his ears and temple. When on his second’s knee, his head dangled about like a poppy after a shower.”
A second fight, this time between Sampson, called the “Birmingham boy,” and Martin the “baker,” lost much of its interest by reason of the storm described in Lavengro. “During the contest,” says the Norfolk Chronicle, “a most tremendous black cloud informed the spectators that a rare sousing was in preparation for them.” And the Mercury states that “the heavy rain drenched the field, and most betook themselves to a retreat, but the rats were all drinkled”. Thus the “cloud” was no fiction, by which the Gypsy foretold the dreadful fate awaiting John Thurtell before Hertford gaol, 9th January, 1824. Ned Painter never fought again. He was landlord of the White Hart Inn from 1823 to 1835. The present proprietor still shows his portrait there, with the above fact duly inscribed on the back of the frame.