His attitude towards the race is curious. He recognised the Gypsies as liars, rogues, cheats, vagabonds, in short as the incarnation of all the vices; yet their fascination for him in no way diminished. He could mix with them, as with other vagabonds, and not become harmed by their broad views upon personal property, or their hundred and one tricks and dishonesties. He was a changed man when in their company, losing all that constraint that marked his intercourse with people of his own class.

He had laboured hard to bring the light of the Gospel into their lives. He made them translate for him the Scriptures into their tongue; but it was the novelty of the situation, aided by the glass of Malaga wine he gave them, not the beauty of the Gospel of St Luke, that aroused their interest and enthusiasm. To this, Borrow's own eyes were open. "They listened with admiration," he says; "but, alas! not of the truths, the eternal truths, I was telling them, but to find that their broken jargon could be written and read." {338b}

On one occasion, having refused to one of his congregation the loan of two barias (ounces of gold), he proceeded to read to the whole assembly instead the Lord's Prayer and the Apostle's Creed in Romany. Happening to glance up, he found not a gypsy in the room, but squinted, "the Gypsy fellow, the contriver of the jest, squinted worst of all. Such are Gypsies." {338c}

It was indeed the novelty that appealed to them. They greeted with a shout of exultation the reading aloud a translation that they themselves had dictated; but they remained unmoved by the Christian teaching it contained. For all these discouragements Borrow persisted, and perhaps none of his efforts in Spain produced less result than this "attempt to enlighten the minds of the Gitanos on the subject of religion." {339a}

If the Gypsies were all that is evil, judged by conventional standards, they at least loyally stood by each other in the face of a common foe. Borrow knew Ambrose Petulengro to be a liar, a thief, in fact most things that it is desirable a man should not be; yet he was equally sure that under no circumstances would he forsake a friend to whom he stood pledged. There seems to be little doubt that Borrow's fame with the Gypsies spread throughout England and the Continent. "Everybody as ever see'd the white-headed Romany Rye never forgot him."

Borrow was by no means the first Romany Rye. From Andrew Boorde (15th-16th Century) down the centuries they are to be found, even to our day, in the persons of Mr Theodore Watts-Dunton and Mr John Sampson; but Borrow was the first to bring the cult of Gypsyism into popularity. Before he wrote, the general view of Gypsies was that they were uncomfortable people who robbed the clothes-lines and hen- roosts, told fortunes and incidentally intimidated the housewife if unprotected by man or dog. Borrow changed all this. The suspicion remained, so strongly in fact that he himself was looked at askance for consorting with such vagabonds; but with the suspicion was more than a spice of interest, and the Gypsies became epitomised and immortalised in the person of Jasper Petulengro. Borrow's Gypsyism was as unscientific as his "philology." Their language, their origin he commented on without first acquainting himself with the literature that had gathered round their name. Francis Hindes Groome, "that perfect scholar-gypsy and gypsy-scholar," wrote:-

"The meagreness of his knowledge of the Anglo-Gypsy dialect came out in his Word Book of the Romany (1874); there must have been over a dozen Englishmen who have known it far better than he. For his Spanish-Gypsy vocabulary in The Zincali he certainly drew largely either on Richard Bright's Travels through Lower Hungary or on Bright's Spanish authority, whatever that may have been. His knowledge of the strange history of the Gypsies was very elementary, of their manners almost more so, and of their folk-lore practically nil. And yet I would put George Borrow above every other writer on the Gypsies. In Lavengro and, to a less degree, in its sequel, The Romany Rye, he communicates a subtle insight into Gypsydom that is totally wanting in the works--mainly philological--of Pott, Liebich, Paspati, Miklosich, and their confreres." {340a}

Groome was by no means partial to Borrow, as a matter of fact he openly taxed him {340b} with drawing upon Bright's Travels in Hungary (Edinburgh 1819) for the Spanish-Romany Vocabulary, and was strong in his denunciation of him as a poseur.

Borrow scorned book-learning. Writing to John Murray, Junr. (21st Jan. 1843), about The Bible in Spain, he says, "I was conscious that there was vitality in the book and knew that it must sell. I read nothing and drew entirely from my own well. I have long been tired of books; I have had enough of them," {340c} he wrote later, and this, taken in conjunction with another sentence, viz., "My favourite, I might say my only study, is man," explains not only Borrow's Gypsyism, but also his casual philology. Languages he mostly learned that he might know men. In youth he read--he had to do something during the long office hours, and he read Danish and Welsh literature; but he did not trouble himself much with the literary wealth of other countries, beyond dipping into it. He had a brain of his own, and preferred to form theories from the knowledge he had acquired first hand, a most excellent thing for a man of the nature of George Borrow, but scarcely calculated to advance learning. He hated anything academic.

"I cannot help thinking," he wrote, "that it was fortunate for myself, who am, to a certain extent, a philologist, that with me the pursuit of languages has been always modified by the love of horses . . . I might, otherwise, have become a mere philologist; one of those beings who toil night and day in culling useless words for some opus magnum which Murray will never publish and nobody ever read--beings without enthusiasm, who, having never mounted a generous steed, cannot detect a good point in Pegasus himself." {341a}

This quotation clearly explains Borrow's attitude towards philology. As he told the emigre priest, he hoped to become something more than a philologist.

There was nothing in the sale of The Zincali to encourage Borrow to proceed with the other books he had partially prepared. Nearly seven weeks after publication, scarcely three hundred copies had been sold. In the spring of the following year (18th March) John Murray wrote: "The sale of the book has not amounted to much since the first publication; but in recompense for this the Yankees have printed two editions, one for twenty pence COMPLETE." As Borrow did not benefit from the sale of American editions, the news was not quite so comforting as it would have been had it referred to the English issue.

CHAPTER XXII: APRIL 1841-MARCH 1844

During his wanderings in Portugal and Spain Borrow had carried out his intention of keeping a journal, from which on several occasions he sent transcriptions to Earl Street instead of recapitulating in his letters the adventures that befell him. Many of his letters went astray, which is not strange considering the state of the country. The letters and reports that Borrow wrote to the Bible Society, which still exist, may be roughly divided as follows

From his introduction until the end of the Russian expedition 17.50 Used for The Bible in Spain 30.00 Others written during the Spanish and Portuguese periods and not used for The Bible in Spain 52.50 100.00

Thirty per cent, of the whole number of the letters was all that Borrow used for The Bible in Spain. In addition he had his Journal, and from these two sources he obtained all the material he required for the book that was to electrify the religious reading-public and make famous its writer.

Between Borrow and Ford a warm friendship had sprung up, and many letters passed between them. Ford, who was busily engaged upon his Hand-Book, sought Borrow's advice upon a number of points, in particular about Gypsy matters. There was something of the same atmosphere in his letters as in those of John Hasfeldt: a frank, affectionate interest in Borrow and what affected him that it was impossible to resent. "How I wish you had given us more about yourself," he wrote to Borrow apropos of The Zincali, "instead of the extracts from those blunder-headed old Spaniards, who knew nothing about Gypsies! I shall give you . . . a hint to publish your whole adventures for the last twenty years." But Hayim Ben-Attar, son of the miracle, had already brought lights, and The Bible in Spain had been begun.

Ford's counsel was invariably sound and sane. He advised El Gitano, as he sometimes called Borrow, "to avoid Spanish historians and POETRY like Prussic acid; to stick to himself, his biography and queer adventures," {343a} to all of which Borrow promised obedience. Ford wrote to Borrow (Feb. 1841) suggesting that The Bible in Spain should be what it actually was. "I am delighted to hear," he wrote, "that you meditate giving us your travels in Spain. The more odd personal adventures the better, and still more so if DRAMATIC; that is, giving the exact conversations."

In June 1841 Borrow received from Earl Street the originals of his letters to the Bible Society, and when he was eventually called upon to return them he retained a number, either through carelessness or by design. It was evidently understood that there should be no reference to any contentious matters. Borrow set to work with the aid of his "Country Amanuensis" to transcribe such portions of the correspondence as he required. The work proceeded slowly.

"I still scribble occasionally for want of something better to do," he informs John Murray, Junr. (23rd Aug. 1841), and continues: " . . . A queer book will be this same Bible in Spain, containing all my queer adventures in that queer country whilst engaged in distributing the Gospel, but neither learning, nor disquisitions, fine writing, or poetry. A book with such a title and of this description can scarcely fail of success."

Through a dreary summer and autumn he wrote on complaining that there was "scarcely a gleam of sunshine." Remote from the world "with not the least idea of what is going on save in my immediate neighbourhood," he wrote merely to kill time. Such an existence was, to the last degree, uncongenial to a man who for years had been accustomed to sunshine and a life full of incident and adventure.