Translation:George Borrow

by Sarah Winifred Parry

George Borrow by Winnie Parry

In the history of English literature in the nineteenth century, there is no figure stranger and more interesting than George Borrow, and none about whom there is more debate among the critics. He has been dead for over twenty years, but articles continue to be written about him, and references to him in the press are constantly to be seen [1].

We Welsh these days take a great deal of interest in English writers; indeed there is reason to fear that some of us find them more interesting than our own. But Borrow, although he is English, claims our deepest interest, not as we are literary, but as we are Welsh; because he loved our country, our language, and our nation, and never stopped singing their praises, and this at a time when Wales and its people were more than despised. It is a fashion among the literary English these days that they admire the Welsh and Welsh characteristics, for we are part of the Celtic fringe that is heard so much about. Indeed some of them have gone so far as to admit that there is no man of true genius to be found without a certain element of this Celtic influence belonging to him [2]. But there was no mention of this when Borrow was singing the praises of Wales, and it was a strange and contrary thing at that time for an Englishman to spend labour and time to learn Welsh as Borrow did, so that he could enjoy the works of our poets and writers.

It is almost impossible to do justice to one who was unlike all of his literary peers, one who is called by one writer, “A figure dominating, shy, reliant, mysterious, elusive.” [3] However, we would very much like to generate sufficient interest in him that those of my readers who have not read Borrow’s books would undertake to do so, starting with one that deals with Wales and Welsh things, “Wild Wales,” a literal translation of a name we give our country in moments of poetic exaltation, “Gwyllt Walia.” The book can be found for a shilling in the beautiful format of the “Every Man’s Library” series, with an introduction by Theodore Watts Dunton, who knew Borrow personally, and who himself takes no small interest in our country and our nation.

Borrow’s life story reads like a romance. He tells it himself in his book “Lavengro,” and continues the story in the “Romany Rye.” In fact all of Borrow’s books are biographies of different parts of his life. Speaking of romances, none have ever been written more involving than these books, and the author himself is the hero of each of them. Some critics accuse Borrow of conceit [4], but if the person most interesting to Borrow was himself, he possesses the ability to make himself most interesting to us, too; indeed, there has never been such a literary hero as Borrow, and we follow his steps closely for fear of missing any of his adventures. Some new aspect of his character comes to light on almost every page. One minute we hate him for his Toryism and hostility to Non-Conformity, and the next minute we admire him to the hilt for his defence of the poor, the weak and the oppressed, and think of him as one of the knights-errand of the Middle Ages. In one place we agree with one who calls him “The Prince of Adventurers,” [5] and claims that he was born hundreds of years too late, and that he should have been the leader of a horde of those sea-warriors, the Vikings. Then he brings to our attention some of the most singular characters, whose like we have before neither seen nor imagined, and we agree with other writers who call him “A writer of Fairy Tales for grown up people,” [6] as it is almost impossible to form an opinion on such a bundle of contrasts. But in whatever aspect we look at him, he is fascinating.

Borrow was born in East Dereham, Norfolk, in the year 1803. His father was descended from a family of gentlemen in Cornwall, who had a place there called Tredinnock, and his mother was a descendant of the Huguenots, who had left France to save their lives at a time of persecution. Borrow records the facts at the beginning of “Lavengro” in his own way. Having written a long passage on the dignity of his father’s family, he says sarcastically, “I am giving the details above so that the reader understands that I do not come from a very ordinary family. This is a very aristocratic age and I am convinced that the public will read my work with more interest if they know that I come from a noble family who have a property and lands to them.” [7] In these sentences Borrow’s consistency and inconsistency become apparent. He was a Churchman and a blinkered Tory, but he absolutely hated the aristocracy and all false dignity and ritual. He also has something to say about his mother’s ancestors, and another characteristic comes to light when he talks about them, namely his hatred of Catholicism. “My mother’s family were French Protestants, and regardless of her bloodline, they gave clear proof that they had pure and brave hearts, and that they were good Christians who refused to bow to the arrogance of Rome. That is why they left their beautiful country, and with only a very little money and a Bible in their own language, they came across the sea to the island where national peace and freedom of conscience lived, and they made their home in East Anglia.” [8]

Borrow gives a detailed description of his childhood days. His father was a recruiting agent, and the family comprised of father, mother and two boys, who all travelled from place to place with the regiment to which the father belonged. Sometimes they would live in the barracks, and other times, if these were not comfortable, they would lodge in the town where the regiment was posted. It seems that this unsettled way of living during his childhood years fostered the wandering element in Borrow’s nature, which developed to such an extent later in his life. He was not a “sharp” child, as we say, and it was a long time before he was able to read. He was encouraged to do so by a lady, a friend of his mother, who brought him the story of Robinson Crusoe as a gift. The edition was full of illustrations, and in order to understand the story they conveyed, that so fuelled his imagination, the child dedicated himself to learning to read. It wasn’t long before he was able to read every word of the book that was his daily companion. The book made a deep impression on his young mind, and it was an additional factor to strengthen his natural inclination towards the adventurous.

These early days were very happy for Borrow. He was delighted with the wandering way of life, as probably many other boys would have been delighted. At a very young age he discovered the ability he had to make friends with all kinds of people, and to charm them into telling him all their troubles. He was sent to the best school in every town in which the regiment stopped, and was thoroughly instructed in Latin and Greek.

He had a special ability to learn languages, acquired several, and was said to be able to speak these fluently. But in this respect, too, he was quite whimsical. Latin was distasteful to him because of his hatred of Rome. He did not want to use German because it was spoken in the court and by the aristocracy. But, because he considered that Irish, Gaelic, and Welsh were despised, and attempts were being made to kill them off, he did all in his power to keep them alive. He finished his education at a school in Norwich, where the family had settled on the father’s retirement from the army. After school, we find him in the same town in a solicitor’s office, having grown into a powerful young man over six feet tall, amusing himself when the work slackened by translating songs from the Danish, and the poems of Dafydd ab Gwilym. He reckoned our poet to be worth half a dozen of his Daffydd’s English contemporary Chaucer! Has there ever been an Englishman like this?

While Borrow was an apprentice with the solicitor in Norwich, his father died. After a while Borrow got tired of his work in the office, and decided to go like many others to seek his fortune in the literary world of London; and he therefore began with a batch of translations of Dafydd ab Gwilym’s work and the idea of them being published in print; but, poor fellow! the publisher’s reception, consistent with their character, was not up to Borrow’s expectations at all. Not one would so much as look at Ab Gwilym’s masterpieces, and Borrow tells the story of his visit to these men in a very bitter way. He stayed in London for a few years, living on the little he could earn from writing some small pieces for the daily press, and half starving in a garret; and he likens himself in one place to one of our best poets, Goronwy, a poet Borrow adored. Eventually Borrow got tired of this kind of life, and decided that if he had to starve, he would do so under a blue sky and among the beauties of nature.

Having managed to get twenty pounds from one of the publishers for a minor book [9] he had written, he turned his back on London, and started on a journey through England; and now Borrow’s love for nature comes to the fore more clearly, and he gives beautifully poetic descriptions of the scenes he sees. One morning, at dawn, he comes to the great cromlech, Stonehenge, and the spirit of the place descends on him and takes hold of him. He says that he threw himself on his face on the dewy ground between two of the huge uprights, under the stone lintel, and having stayed like that for some time, he got up and sat on a stone in the middle of the circle for ten hours, until the sun rose and shone on his face [10]. Then he travelled on, and here commence those strange events of which Borrow’s history is full, and he begins to draw us his pictures of the extraordinary characters he meets. He didn’t travel very far before coming across a tinker and his family. They have recently suffered bereavement, and as usual, Borrow, in his character of the romantic wanderer, is able to charm them “with the waining tongue” [11] into telling him their whole story. He comes to understand that the tinker needs to leave his cart and his pony; and the upshot is that Borrow buys them, and the tinker’s outfit, for £5 1s [12]. He also bought, from the woman of the hotel where this discussion had been held, a smock that once belonged to her son who had died, and some food, and then he started off again; and this is certainly the strangest tinker that has ever travelled through the country roads of England. On his way he encounters the Gipsies. This is not the first time he has come to know these people. He had been among them when he was a child, when they had given him the name Sapengro, because of his ability to charm snakes until they were completely harmless to him. He met the same Gipsies again when the town he lived in at the time held a horse fair, and went to their tents to learn their language; and did this so quickly that one of them said with great satisfaction, “We don’t call you Sapengro anymore, but Lavengro,” that is, master of words; and that was his name among this strange nation - Borrow’s mark of kinship with them, and one which brings a particular aspect of his character very clearly to light. These were foreigners and persecuted, and that was a sufficient reason for him to take their side. But his encounter with them this time, in his character of traveling tinker, was not so fortunate. It seems that one of the tribe was hostile to him because he was English, and he was; and she had tried to prevent it when, as a youth, Borrow had been allowed to learn their language; and now she took the opportunity to poison him, and leave him half dead in his tent. Hearing the sound of wheels coming in his direction, Borrow tries to drag himself to the door of the tent for help, and on this he hears a voice saying in Welsh; “What is this lying on the ground?” Then he heard another voice - a girl’s voice answering - “I really don’t know, what could it be?” They were husband and wife, who extended help to Borrow and were able to give him some antidote to the poison the gipsy had given him.

The Welshman who had come across Borrow on this occasion was a preacher, one Peter Williams. Many have tried to guess who this man was. One Welsh writer asked, “Who was Peter Williams, the preacher from Wales who drew the crowds after him, and went almost mad at times, because he believed he had committed the unforgivable sin?” [13] However, he and his wife behave very kindly towards Borrow, and they discussed a great deal with each other while Borrow was in their company; and the topics of their conversation were sufficiently fascinating, you may assume, when I say that John Bunyan and Elis Wyn and their works were among them. Borrow does not let Peter Williams know that he can speak Welsh, and he listens to him talk about Elis Wyn the “Sleeping Poet” without saying a word of his knowledge of Welsh things. Here again the charm of Borrow’s personality pulls the whole story of Peter Williams from his mouth, and he tells him all the details of his life. Borrow travelled on in the company of this small family up to the borders of England. They urge him desperately to come with them into Wales. Borrow asked why he should come. “To learn Welsh,” said the preacher. Then Borrow, to their great surprise, reveals to them his knowledge of the Welsh language. He, however, refuses to go with them further, and he says goodbye to them, wishing God’s blessing on them. Peter Williams runs after him and pushes his Welsh Bible into his hand saying, “Take this with you.”

With Borrow having spoken well about Peter Williams and his wife, he meets an old acquaintance of his among the Gipsies. This man tells Borrow that he comes from the funeral of the old woman who had tried to poison Borrow. It seems that she had been mad for years, that a daughter of hers had been wronged by an Englishman, and that was the reason why she was so hostile to Borrow befriending the tribe, and why she tried to kill him. Borrow, after leaving this Gipsy, goes to a place he calls the Hollow, where he raises his tent and goes to collect pots to repair from the various farms and cottages around. In the Hollow the terrible fight takes place between Borrow and a character he calls “the Flaming Tinman,” on which occasion Isopel Berners, another strange character, makes her appearance and takes his side. This is the heroine of “Lavengro,” and her story is fascinating, but she disappears from the book as suddenly as she somehow appeared, and there is no information as to what became of her.

A continuation of this period, and perhaps the most interesting period of Borrow’s life can be found in his book the “Romany Rye.” His fellowship with the Gipsies makes up most of this book, and Borrow tells many strange and interesting stories about these people. He is accepted by all of them in this, and indeed, they consider him almost one of theirs. After wandering like this in the character of “travelling tinker” all over England, as he recounts in Lavengro and Romany Rye, he travels through France, Germany, and Russia, and in 1835, he publishes in St. Petersburg a book he calls “Tergum,” containing translations of passages taken from thirty languages. You see that there was never another such linguist as Borrow, and that it was not inappropriate for the Gipsies to call him “The Master of Words.” In the same year he accepted the offer of the Bible Society to travel and distribute Bibles in Spain. Borrow spent five years here during the turbulent reign of Isabella the Second, and published two books on his travels, “The Gipsies in Spain” and “The Bible in Spain.” The latter is full of romantic events and strange and wild adventures. There has been a great deal of controversy regarding Borrow’s connection with the Bible Society [14]. Some say that he undertook the work not out of zeal for spreading the gospel, but only as a matter of livelihood, and in an adventurous spirit. These critics say that it is easy to see that in “The Bible in Spain” the adventures are laid down side by side with expressions of false zeal for the Protestant faith. They say that the book lacks the sincerity which so fascinates the reader in his other volumes. On the other hand, some critics say that Borrow has worked excellently for the society. Regardless of the critics, one would think that Borrow’s hatred of Catholicism made him fit for the job, and certainly that neither the Bible Society nor any other society had a more distinguished and strange servant. It is said that the society room would be crowded when Borrow’s contributions were to be read, and there should be no surprise at that. The “Bible in Spain” had a wide circulation, and some say that to this day it remains the most popular of Borrow’s books.

The next book he published was “Wild Wales,” and this is undoubtedly the most appealing to us. It is the story of his journey through Wales in the year 1854. Borrow had by this time said goodbye to the days of his youth, and perhaps this accounts for the fact that this book is less adventurous in tone than “Lavengro” and the “Romany Rye.” But if Borrow has lost some of the fire that burns in his other volumes, there is still sufficient enthusiasm in it, used in singing the praises of Wales; its language, its heroes, its poets, and its writers. His foreword to the book is fascinating to the extreme. He praises the scenery of Wales and its famous men; - “Who has not heard of the poets? Praise to them, and eternal praise to the three greatest of them - Taliesin, Dafydd ab Gwilym, and Goronwy.” Then he goes on,- “But Wales has something besides its wonderful scenery, its eventful history and its illustrious men of yore, it has a population and a remarkable one- hardy, frugal, yet kind and hospitable and still speaking- Diolch i r Nefoedd- the language of Glendower and the bards.” And before beginning the story of his journey he says, - “This is a book written about Wales, and if someone honours me by reading it he will be paying a visit to many places, notable not only for their beauty, but because some strange event has taken place there, or because some hero was born there, or a man of genius lives there. He will also come to know the true Welsh, and he will know what the Welshman has to say about his countrymen, and about his neighbour on the other side of Offa’s Dyke, about buying and selling, and about fattening pigs and raising fowls, and about Methodism, Baptism and the poor and persecuted Established Church.” After such an introduction the book is bound to be fascinating. In the first chapter he tells in his own way how he wanted to begin his trip to Wales.

He and his wife and daughter, Henrietta, he says, have decided to leave home for a change of air. Borrow wants to go to Wales, but the wife and daughter feel a desire to go somewhere fashionable like Harrogate or Leamington. Borrow tells the two that there is nothing he hates more than fashionable life, but as he is not a selfish man he would try to put up with it for a while, and that he is willing to go with them to some place of their preference. But this awakens a sacrificial spirit in the mother and daughter, and they now say that they would prefer to go to Wales, that it is by all accounts a beautiful country, and that they would certainly enjoy themselves there, especially so as he is familiar with the language. He then explains to the reader how he learned Welsh. His master, the lawyer, had a servant from Wales, and Borrow gives a detailed description of him, down to his dress, until we almost see him standing in front of us. The clerks in the office had discovered that the servant was Welsh and they would bully him daily, putting their heads out of the window every time he passed and shouting “Taffi” after him. Borrow saw that this caused great pain to the Welshman, and he managed to get the others to leave him alone. Borrow won the man’s affection through his kindness, and the man came to Borrow to give lessons in speaking Welsh once every week for over a year, after which he left for Wales, and Borrow heard nothing more of him afterwards.

It would take too much time to follow Borrow’s steps along all his journey, but we will try to go a little way with him. The family had decided to make Llangollen their headquarters while they were in Wales, and they set off together for that town, but Borrow leaves his wife and daughter in Chester and walks the rest of the way without company.

He gives a very detailed and entertaining account of their establishment in Llangollen. The first day of their stay there, a half-starved cat comes to their house, and Borrow gives the story of the creature. He calls her “a poor Church of England cat”, for the reason that she was once the property of a parishioner, who had left the place, and was therefore persecuted by all the Dissenters in the town, until she found refuge with Borrow. Before leaving Llangollen he looks for a home for her with Churchwomen, and it seems that he was sent news about her while she lived, because he records the story of her end as follows: “There it continued in peace and comfort, till one morning it sprang suddenly from the hearth into the air, gave a mew and died. So much for the ecclesiastical cat.”

But to return to his journey through Wales. He leaves wife and daughter in Llangollen, and sets out on his own. He chooses this way of travelling because it gives him a better opportunity to see the country and get to know its people. He starts from Llangollen on a Sunday morning after attending the church’s morning service with his wife and daughter. He gives as his reason that he wants to see how people would spend Sunday in the country.

As is typical, he meets a large number of strange characters on his journey. I sometimes wonder if the people Borrow came across were as interesting as he says they were, or if there was something in Borrow himself that made them appear that way. Anyway I never met such characters. His way of drawing them out is very effective. When he comes to a spot associated with the story of some famous person, he greets a local man or woman, and asks them about the hero of the place. Very often these know nothing at all about the worthy, and Borrow proceeds to relate the whole story. And if a poet was born or lived there, Borrow recites lines of poetry until his listener is struck dumb by surprise. An Englishman who knows more about Welsh things than a native!

The story of Borrow’s visit to the home of Huw Morus (Eos Ceiriog) is particularly interesting. He has made the acquaintance of a certain weaver called John Jones, a devout Methodist. He and Borrow become good friends, and John Jones goes with him to various places in the neighbourhood. The two talk about many different things while traveling together, and very often heatedly debate religion. Both remain firm in their principles. But this is the account that Borrow gives of the Welsh weaver when he sings his praises- “I found my guide a first rate walker and a good botanist, knowing the names of all the plants and trees in Welsh. He was very honest, disinterested and exceedingly good humoured. It is true he had some skits at the Church, but setting aside these, a venial trifle after all, and easily to be accounted for, on the score of his religious education, I found nothing to blame and much to admire in John Jones the Methodist weaver of Llangollen.” In the company of this man he goes to see Huw Morus’ home. Before telling the story of his visit, Borrow gives us all he knows about the poet. He then describes the house and how they went to look for a seat in the bank of the nearby field which was called “Huw Morus’s Chair.” They have great trouble finding this, during a heavy thunderstorm, in the middle of the thickets and the brambles. The lady of the house and her granddaughter had gone with them to the field to help. In the end they find an alcove in the bank with a stone seat, and on it the letters, “H. M. B.”, Huw Morus Bardd. Borrow describes the scene in an very striking manner. He relates that John Jones had told him to sit in the chair. [15] “‘You have taken enough trouble to find it.’ ‘Yes, sit down,’” said the woman who was with them. “‘But let me dry it, it’s wet and dirty.’ I prevented her from doing that, and after taking off my hat, I stood in front of the chair, and I said in the best Welsh I had, ‘Shade of Huw Morus, if you come sometimes to see the place you once loved, behold here an Englishman has come to pay his respects to one he greatly honours. He read Eos Ceiriog’s songs when he was a boy, and now when he is a man and his hair is grey, he comes here to say that many times they made him shed tears in a downpour.’” Then I sat in the chair and began to recite some of Huw Morus’ songs in the presence of his wife and granddaughter, and John Jones the weaver. And the three listened attentively, even though the rain was pouring on their heads, and the branches of the trees and the thorns were driven by the wind beating in their faces, because such enthusiasm is never despised by the pure, simple, and right-minded Welshman.’”