Part 5 (1/2)

However much he suggested the typical Anglo-Saxon in real life, there was the true Celt whenever he took pen in hand.

A stranger blend of the Celt and the Saxon indeed it would be hard to find. The Celtic side is not uppermost in his temperament-this strong, a.s.sertive, prize-fighting, beer-loving man (a good drinker, but never a drunkard) seems far more Saxon than anything else. De Quincey had no small measure of the John Bull in [Picture: George Borrow] his temperament, and Borrow had a great deal more. The John Bull side was very obvious. Yet a Celt he was by parentage, and the Celtic part was unmistakable, though below the surface. If the East Anglian in him had a weakness for athleticism, boiled mutton and caper sauce, the Celt in him responded quickly to the romantic a.s.sociates of Wales.

Readers of Mr. Watts-Dunton's charming romance _Aylwin_ will recall the emphasis laid on the pa.s.sionate love of the Welsh for a tiny strip of Welsh soil. Borrow understood all this; he had a rare sympathy with the Cymric Celt. You can trace the Celt in his scenic descriptions, in his feeling for the spell of antiquity, his restlessness of spirit. And yet in his appearance there was little to suggest the Celt. Small wonder that many of his friends spoke of this white-haired giant of six foot three as if he was first and foremost an excellent athlete.

Certainly he had in full measure an Englishman's delight and proficiency in athletics-few better at running, jumping, wrestling, sparring, and swimming.

In many respects indeed Borrow will not have realized the fancy picture of the Englishman as limned by Hawthorne's fancy-the big, hearty, self-opiniated, beef-eating, ale-drinking John Bull. Save to a few intimates like Mr. Watts-Dunton and Dr. Hake he seems to have concealed very effectually the Celtic sympathies in his nature. But no reader of his books can be blind to this side of his character; and then again, as in all the literary Vagabonds, it is the complexity of the man's temperament that attracts and fascinates.

The man who can delight in the garrulous talk of a country inn, understand the magic of big solitudes; who can keenly appraise the points of a horse and feel the impalpable glamour of an old ruin; who will present an impenetrable reserve to the ordinary stranger and take the fierce, moody gypsy to his heart; who will break almost every convention of civilization, yet in the most unexpected way show a st.u.r.dy element of conventionality; a man, in short, of so many bewildering contradictions and strangely a.s.sorted qualities as Borrow cannot but compel interest.

Many of the contradictory traits were not, as they seemed, the inconsequential moods of an irresponsible nature, but may be traced to the fierce egotism of the man. The Vagabond is always an egotist; the egotism may be often amusing, and is rarely uninteresting. But the personal point of view, the personal impression, has for him the most tremendous importance. It makes its possessor abnormally sensitive to any circ.u.mstances, any environment, that may restrict his independence or prevent the full expression of his personal tastes and whims. Among our Vagabonds the two most p.r.o.nounced egotists are Borrow and Whitman. The secret of their influence, their merits, and their deficiencies lies in this intense concentration of self. An appreciation of this quality leads us to comprehend a good deal of Borrow's att.i.tude towards men and women. Reading _Lavengro_ and _The Romany Rye_ the reader is no less struck by the remarkable interest that Borrow takes in the people-especially the rough, uncultured people-whom he comes across, as in the cheerful indifference with which he loses sight of them and pa.s.ses on to fresh characters. There is very little objective feeling in his friends.h.i.+ps; as flesh and blood personages with individualities of their own-loves, hopes, faiths of their own-he seems to regard them scarcely at all. They exist chiefly as material for his curiosity and inquisitiveness. Hence there is a curious selfishness about him-not the selfishness of a pa.s.sionate, capricious nature, but the selfishness of a self-absorbed and self-contained nature. Perhaps there was hidden away somewhere in his nature a strain of tenderness, of altruistic affection, which was reserved for a few chosen souls. But the warm human touch is markedly absent from his writings, despite their undeniable charm.

Take the Isopel Berners episode. Whether Isopel Berners was a fiction of the imagination or a character in real life matters not for my purpose.

At any rate the episode, his friends.h.i.+p with this Anglo-Saxon girl of the road, is one of the distinctive features of both _Lavengro_ and _The Romany Rye_. The att.i.tude of Borrow towards her may safely be regarded as a clear indication of the man's character.

A girl of fine physical presence and many engaging qualities such as were bound to attract a man of Borrow's type, who had forsaken her friends to throw in her lot with this fellow-wanderer on the road. Here were the ready elements of a romance-of a friends.h.i.+p that should burn up with the consuming power of love the baser elements of self in the man's disposition, and transform his nature.

And what does he do?

He accepts her companions.h.i.+p, just as he might have accepted the companions.h.i.+p of one of his landlords or ostlers; spends the time he lived with her in the Dingle in teaching her Armenian, and when at last, driven to desperation by his calculating coldness, she comes to take farewell of him, he makes her a perfunctory offer of marriage, which she, being a girl of fine mettle as well as of strong affection, naturally declines. She leaves him, and after a few pa.s.sages of philosophic regret, he pa.s.ses on to the next adventure.

Now Borrow, as we know, was not physically drawn towards the ordinary gypsy type-the dark, beautiful Celtic women; and it was in girls of the fair Saxon order such as Isopel Berners that he sought a natural mate.

Certainly, if any woman was calculated by physique and by disposition to attract Borrow, Isopel Berners was that woman. And when we find that the utmost extent of his pa.s.sion is to make tea for her and instruct her in Armenian, it is impossible not to be disagreeably impressed by the unnatural chilliness of such a disposition. Not even Isopel could break down the barrier of intense egoism that fenced him off from any profound intimacy with his fellow-creatures.

Perhaps Dr. Jessop's attack upon him errs in severity, and is to an extent, as Mr. Watts-Dunton says, ”unjust”; but there is surely an element of truth in his remarks when he says: ”Of anything like animal pa.s.sion there is not a trace in all his many volumes. Not a hint that he ever kissed a woman or even took a little child upon his knee.” Nor do I think that the anecdote which Mr. Watts-Dunton relates about the beautiful gypsy, to whom Borrow read Arnold's poem, goes far to dissipate the impression of Borrow's insensibility to a woman's charm.

A pa.s.sing tribute to the looks of an extraordinarily beautiful girl is quite compatible with a comparative insensibility to feminine beauty and feminine graces. That Borrow was devoid of animal pa.s.sion I do not believe-nor indeed do his books convey that impression; that he had no feeling for beauty either would be scarcely compatible with the Celtic element in his nature. I think it less a case-as Dr. Jessop seems to think-of want of pa.s.sion as of a tyrannous egotism that excluded any element likely to prove troublesome. He would not admit a disturbing factor-such as the presence of the self-reliant Isopel-into his life.

No doubt he liked Isopel well enough in his fas.h.i.+on. Otherwise certainly he would not have made up his mind to marry her. But his own feelings, his own tastes, his own fancies, came first. He would marry her-oh yes!-there was plenty of time later on. For the present he could study her character, amuse himself with her idiosyncrasies, and as a return for her devotion and faithful affection teach her Armenian. Extremely touching!

But the episode of Isopel Berners is only one ill.u.s.tration, albeit a very significant one, of Borrow's calculating selfishness. No man could prove a more interesting companion than he; but one cannot help feeling that he was a sorry kind of friend.

It may seem strange at first sight, finding this wanderer of the road in the pay of the Bible Society, and a zealous servant in the cause of militant Protestantism. But the violent ”anti-Popery” side of Borrow is only another instance of his love of independence. The brooding egotism that chafed at the least control was not likely to show any sympathy with sacerdotalism.

There was no trace of philosophy in Borrow's frankly expressed views on religious subjects. They were honest and straightforward enough, with all the vigorous unreflective narrowness of ultra-Protestantism.

It says much for the amazing charm of Borrow's writing that _The Bible in Spain_ is very much better than a glorified tract. It must have come as a surprise to many a grave, pious reader of the Bible Society's publications.

And the Bible Society made the Vagabond from the literary point of view.

Borrow's book-_The Zincali_-or an account of the gypsies of Spain, published in 1841, had brought his name before the public. But _The Bible in Spain_ (1843) made him famous-doubtless to the relief of ”glorious John Murray,” the publisher, who was doubtful about the book's reception.

It is a fascinating book, and if lacking the unique flavour of the romantic autobiographies, _Lavengro_ and _The Romany Rye_, has none the less many of the characteristics that give all his writings their distinctive attraction.

II