George Borrow | Page 7

twenty years. The publisher's reader, who saw the manuscript of "The Bible in Spain" in 1842, suggested that Borrow should prefix a short account of his birth, parentage, education and life. But already Borrow had taken Ford's hint and was thinking of an autobiography. By the end of 1842 he was suggesting a book on his early life, studies and adventures, Gypsies, boxers, philosophers; and he afterwards announced that "Lavengro" was planned and the characters sketched in 1842 and 1843. He saw himself as a public figure that had to be treated heroically. Read, for example, his preface to the second edition of "The Zincali," dated March 1, 1843. There he tells of his astonishment at the success of "The Zincali," and of John Murray bidding him not to think too much of the book but to try again and avoid "Gypsy poetry, dry laws, and compilations from dull Spanish authors."
"Borromeo," he makes Murray say to him, "Borromeo, don't believe all you hear, nor think that you have accomplished anything so very extraordinary. . . ."
And so, he says, he sat down and began "The Bible in Spain." He proceeds to make a picture of himself amidst a landscape by some raving Titanic painter's hand:
"At first," he says, "I proceeded slowly,--sickness was in the land and the face of nature was overcast,--heavy rain-clouds swam in the heavens,--the blast howled amid the pines which nearly surround my lonely dwelling, and the waters of the lake which lies before it, so quiet in general and tranquil, were fearfully agitated. 'Bring lights hither, O Hayim Ben Attar, son of the miracle!' And the Jew of Fez brought in the lights, for though it was midday I could scarcely see in the little room where I was writing. . . .
"A dreary summer and autumn passed by, and were succeeded by as gloomy a winter. I still proceeded with 'The Bible in Spain.' The winter passed and spring came with cold dry winds and occasional sunshine, whereupon I arose, shouted, and mounting my horse, even Sidi Habismilk, I scoured all the surrounding district, and thought but little of 'The Bible in Spain.'
"So I rode about the country, over the heaths, and through the green lanes of my native land, occasionally visiting friends at a distance, and sometimes, for variety's sake, I staid at home and amused myself by catching huge pike, which lie perdue in certain deep ponds skirted with lofty reeds, upon my land, and to which there is a communication from the lagoon by a deep and narrow watercourse.--I had almost forgotten 'The Bible in Spain.'
"Then came the summer with much heat and sunshine, and then I would lie for hours in the sun and recall the sunny days I had spent in Andalusia, and my thoughts were continually reverting to Spain, and at last I remembered that 'The Bible in Spain' was still unfinished; whereupon I arose and said: This loitering profiteth nothing,--and I hastened to my summer-house by the side of the lake, and there I thought and wrote, and every day I repaired to the same place, and thought and wrote until I had finished 'The Bible in Spain.'
"And at the proper season 'The Bible in Spain' was given to the world; and the world, both learned and unlearned, was delighted with 'The Bible in Spain,' and the highest authority said, 'This is a much better book than the Gypsies;' and the next great authority said, 'Something betwixt Le Sage and Bunyan.' 'A far more entertaining work than Don Quixote,' exclaimed a literary lady. 'Another Gil Blas,' said the cleverest writer in Europe. 'Yes,' exclaimed the cool sensible Spectator, 'a Gil Blas in water colours.'
"A Gil Blas in water colours"--that, he says himself, pleased him better than all the rest. He liked to think that out of his adventures in distributing Bibles in Spain, out of letters describing his work to his employers, the Bible Society, he had made a narrative to be compared with the fictitious life and adventures of that gentle Spanish rogue, Gil Blas of Santillana. No wonder that he saw himself a public figure to be treated reverently, nay! heroically. And so when he comes to consider somebody's suggestion that the Gypsies are of Jewish origin, he relates a "little adventure" of his own, bringing in Mr. Petulengro and the Jewish servant whom he had brought back with him after his last visit to Spain. He mounts the heroic figure upon an heroic horse:
"So it came to pass," he says, "that one day I was scampering over a heath, at some distance from my present home: I was mounted upon the good horse Sidi Habismilk, and the Jew of Fez, swifter than the wind, ran by the side of the good horse Habismilk, when what