Part 2 (1/2)
He is wrong about the planting of the trees in Chapel Field ”at the restoration of sporting Charles,” for they were planted in 1746, by Sir Thomas Churchman, then lessee of the Field.
A good contemporary account of the big fight, in which Painter won, may be found in ”Norfolk Annals” (compiled from the files of the _Norfolk Chronicle_), vol. i. p. 184. This was Painter's last appearance in the prize-ring. He was landlord of the White Hart, just above St. Peter Mancroft Church, from 1823 to 1835, and in that inn there is still a portrait of the famous Ned. He occupied the meadows on which Thorpe Station was built.
[Picture: Bowling Green Inn (now Orphan's Home). From Drawing by H. W.
Tuck]
Borrow's introduction of the celebrated fast trotter ”Marshland Shales”
at the Tombland Fair of March 19th, 1818, is an anachronism, for that n.o.ble animal did not present himself on the Castle Hill till 1827. He had been sold for 305 guineas in 1810, and again sold in 1827; he died in 1835, aged thirty-three. Sir Walter Gilbey states that ”though the Norfolk Hackney achieved its fame through Blaze (foaled 1733), who begat the original Shales, foaled in 1755, and the foundations of this invaluable breed were thus laid in George II.'s time, we must have regard to the period during which the breed achieved its celebrity both at home and abroad, and that period is the long reign of George III.” Dr. Knapp expresses himself as much terrified by the invasion of the free path by ”a party rus.h.i.+ng madly up, striving to keep pace with a mettlesome steed . . . at the sight of whose enormous hoofs and s.h.a.ggy fetlocks you are all but ready to perish.” Such niggling super refinement would be quite repugnant to Borrow's highway robustious temperament.
[Picture: Portrait of William Simpson. From Painting in Blackfriars'
Hall, by Thomas Phillips, R.A., Norwich Corporation Collection]
It was at this Horse Fair that he became conscious of being watched by someone, till at last he was accosted: ”What! the sap-engro? Lor! the sap-engro upon the hill!” Then Jasper revealed himself. He had been dodging about inspecting young Borrow, and said he believed Borrow had felt his presence--”a sign, brother, that we are akin, that we are _dui palor_--two relations. Your blood beat when mine was near, as mine always does at the coming of a brother.” The two pals walked on over ”the old Norman Bridge” till they reached the gypsy tents on Mousehold, where Borrow had a memorable conversation with Jasper (Ambrose Smith), and incurred the wrath of the malignant Mrs. Herne, who objected to the strange Gorgio ”stealing” her language. But he continually consorted with Jasper, studying the language, the characters, and the manners of the gypsies. So quickly did he pick up Romany words that Jasper said: ”We'll no longer call you Sap-engro, brother, but rather Lav-engro, which in the language of the Gorgios meaneth Word Master.” The handsome Tawno Chikno would have preferred to call him Cooro-mengro, as he had found him ”a pure fist master.” Mrs. Herne could not stand this intimacy, for she so hated the Gorgio that she said she would like to mix a little poison with his water, so she left her party with her blessing, and this _gillie_ to cheer their hearts:
”In all kinds of weather Have we lived together; But now we are parted, I goes broken hearted.
Ye are no longer Rommany.
To gain a bad brother, Ye have lost a good mother.”
[Picture: Tuck's Court, St. Giles]
[Picture: Portrait of John Crome. By Michael W. Sharpe]
About three years later, Lavengro and Jasper had that conversation on Mousehold, in which this cla.s.sic pa.s.sage occurs:--
”Life is sweet, brother.”
”Do you think so?”
”Think so! There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise the wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?”
”I would wish to die--”
”You talk like a gorgio--which is the same as talking like a fool--were you a Rommany Chal you would talk wiser. Wish to die indeed! A Rommany Chal would wish to live for ever!”
”In sickness, Jasper?”
”There's the sun and stars, brother.”
”In blindness, Jasper?”
”There's the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel that, I would gladly live for ever. Dosta, we'll now go to the tents and put on the gloves; and I'll try to make you feel what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!”
Borrow's school era was closed appropriately, says Dr. Knapp, by the mysterious distemper already referred to, which would, he thought, end his life; but as he recovered a career had to be decided upon, and, apparently on the advice of his friend Roger Kerrison, the law was chosen. So on Monday, March 30th, 1819, George Borrow was articled for a term of five years to the highly respectable firm of Simpson & Rackham, whose offices were in Tuck's Court, St. Giles's, still occupied by solicitors in the persons of Messrs. Leathes Prior & Son. ”So,” says Borrow, ”I sat behind a desk many hours in the day, ostensibly engaged in transcribing doc.u.ments of various kinds. The scene of my labours was a strange old house, occupying one side of a long and narrow court, into which, however, the greater number of the windows looked not, but into an extensive garden, filled with fruit trees, in the rear of a large handsome house, belonging to a highly respectable gentleman.” This was William Simpson, Town Clerk of Norwich from 1826 till his death, in 1834, having succeeded Elisha de Hague, who attested Borrow's articles. The portraits of both these worthies hang in Blackfriars Hall, that of De Hague by Sir William Beechey, that of Simpson by Thomas Phillips, whose son, H. W. Phillips, painted Borrow's portrait in 1843: it was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1844. As articled clerk Borrow lived at Mr.
Simpson's house in the Upper Close, which has long since disappeared.
Mr. Simpson was a genial and indulgent employer, so probably young Borrow found little to prevent him from bringing Ab Gwilym into company with Blackstone: by adopting the law the ardent young linguist had not ceased to be Lav-engro; indeed, the acquisition of languages was his chief pursuit. He already knew, in a way, Latin, Greek, Irish, French, Italian, Spanish, and what Dr. Knapp calls ”the broken jargon” then current in England as gypsy. From a misshapen Welsh groom this queer lawyer's clerk learned Welsh p.r.o.nunciation, and to the consternation of his employer, ”turned Sir Edward from the door,” and gladly admitted the petty versifier Parkerson who sold his sheets to the highest bidder in the streets; worse even than this was his audacity in contending against a wealthy archdeacon that Ab Gwilym was the superior of Ovid. This gentleman was probably the Rev. John Oldershaw, Archdeacon of Norfolk from 1797 till his death, January 31st, 1847, aged ninety-three. As he was one of the most active magistrates in the county, he would naturally be on friendly terms with so prominent a lawyer as Mr. Simpson, whose handsome wife, moreover, was in the habit of giving entertainments which rather worried her spouse. The episode of the Wake of Freya, included in Chapter XX. of Dr. Knapp's edition of ”Lavengro,” and the fine eulogy of Crome in the succeeding chapter, should inspire every reader's genuine interest. Here is the memorable Crome pa.s.sage: ”A living master? Why, there he comes! thou hast had him long, he has long guided thy young hand towards the excellence which is yet far from thee, but which thou canst attain if thou shouldst persist and wrestle, even as he has done, midst gloom and despondency--ay, and even contempt; he who now comes up the creaking stair to thy little studio in the second floor to inspect thy last effort before thou departest, the little stout man whose face is very dark, and whose eye is vivacious; that man has attained excellence, destined some day to be acknowledged, though not till he is cold, and his mortal part returned to its kindred clay. He has painted, not pictures of the world, but English pictures, such as Gainsborough himself might have done; beautiful rural pieces, with trees which might well tempt the wild birds to perch upon them; thou needest not run to Rome, brother, after pictures of the world, whilst at home there are pictures of England; nor needest thou even go to London, the big city, in search of a master, for thou hast one at home in the old East Anglian town who can instruct thee whilst thou needest instruction. Better stay at home, brother, at least for a season, and toil and strive 'midst groanings and despondency till thou hast attained excellence even as he has done--the little dark man with the brown coat and the top-boots, whose name will one day be considered the chief ornament of the old town, and whose works will at no distant period rank among the proudest pictures of England--and England against the world! thy master, my brother, thy, at present, all too little considered master--Crome.”
Borrow was frankly bored by his experiences in law; he tired of his surroundings, but relaxation came when an old couple gave him a venerable collection of Danish ballads, jetsam of the sea, left with the yeoman and his wife by some s.h.i.+pwrecked red-haired man. This was enough to waken his greedy curiosity, and he at once shook off his listlessness, and set to work to learn Danish, by the aid of a Danish Bible bought of a Muggletonian preacher, who was also a bookseller. In less than a month he was able to read his prize. A correspondent in ”Notes and Queries”
(April 3rd, 1852) suggested that Borrow confounded Muggleton with Huntington, which, indeed, seems likely enough.
[Picture: The Windmill on Mousehold Heath. By John Crome]