Lavengro, the Scholar, the Gypsy, the Priest, published in 1851, is a heavily fictionalized account of George Borrowβs early years. Borrow, born in 1803, was a writer and self-taught polyglot, fluent in many European languages, and a lover of literature.
The Romany Rye, published six years later in 1857, is sometimes described as the βsequelβ to Lavengro, but in fact it begins with a straight continuation of the action of the first book, which breaks off rather suddenly. The two books therefore are best considered as a whole and read together, and this Standard Ebooks edition combines the two into one volume.
In the novel Borrow tells of his upbringing as the son of an army recruiting officer, moving with the regiment to different locations in Britain, including Scotland and Ireland. It is in Ireland that he first encounters a strange new language which he is keen to learn, leading to a life-long passion for acquiring new tongues. A couple of years later in England, he comes across a camp of gypsies and meets the gypsy Jasper Petulengro, who becomes a life-long friend. Borrow is delighted to discover that the Romany have their own language, which of course he immediately sets out to learn.
Borrowβs subsequent life, up to his mid-twenties, is that of a wanderer, traveling from place to place in Britain, encountering many interesting individuals and having a variety of entertaining adventures. He constantly comes in contact with the gypsies and with Petulengro, and becomes familiar with their language and culture.
The book also includes a considerable amount of criticism of the Catholic Church and its priests. Several chapters are devoted to Borrowβs discussions with βthe man in black,β depicted as a cynical Catholic priest who has no real belief in the religious teachings of the Church but who is devoted to seeing it reinstated in England in order for its revenues to increase.
Lavengro was not an immediate critical success on its release, but after Borrow died in 1881, it began to grow in popularity and critical acclaim. It is now considered a classic of English Literature. This Standard Ebooks edition of Lavengro and The Romany Rye is based on the editions published by John Murray and edited by W. I. Knapp, with many clarifying notes.
him!β Though confident that he was addressing himself to me, I took no notice, remembering the advice of the ostler, and proceeded up the street. My horse possessed a good walking step; but walking, as the reader knows, was not his best pace, which was the long trot, at which I could not well exercise him in the street, on account of the crowd of men and animals; however, as he walked along, I could easily perceive that he attracted no slight attention amongst those, who by their jockey dress and general appearance, I imagined to be connoisseurs; I heard various calls to stop, to none of which I paid the slightest attention. In a few minutes I found myself out of the town, when, turning round for the purpose of returning, I found I had been followed by several of the connoisseur-looking individuals, whom I had observed in the fair. βNow would be the time for a display,β thought I; and looking around me I observed two five-barred gates, one on each side of the road, and fronting each other. Turning my horseβs head to one, I pressed my heels to his sides, loosened the reins, and gave an encouraging cry, whereupon the animal cleared the gate in a twinkling. Before he had advanced ten yards in the field to which the gate opened, I had turned him round, and again giving him cry and rein, I caused him to leap back again into the road, and still allowing him head, I made him leap the other gate; and forthwith turning him round, I caused him to leap once more into the road, where he stood proudly tossing his head, as much as to say, βWhat more?β βA fine horse! a capital horse!β said several of the connoisseurs. βWhat do you ask for him?β βToo much for any of you to pay,β said I. βA horse like this is intended for other kind of customers than any of you.β βHow do you know that,β said one; the very same person whom I had heard complaining in the street of the paucity of good horses in the fair. βCome, let us know what you ask for him?β βA hundred and fifty pounds,β said I; βneither more nor less.β βDo you call that a great price?β said the man. βWhy, I thought you would have asked double that amount! You do yourself injustice, young man.β βPerhaps I do,β said I, βbut thatβs my affair; I do not choose to take more.β βI wish you would let me get into the saddle,β said the man; βthe horse knows you, and therefore shows to more advantage; but I should like to see how he would move under me, who am a stranger. Will you let me get into the saddle, young man?β βNo,β said I; βI will not let you get into the saddle.β βWhy not?β said the man. βLest you should be a Yorkshireman,β said I, βand should run away with the horse.β βYorkshire?β said the man; βI am from Suffolk, silly Suffolk, so you need not be afraid of my running away with the horse.β βOh! if thatβs the case,β said I, βI should be afraid that the horse would run away with you; so I will by no means let you mount.β βWill you let me look in his mouth?β said the man. βIf you please,β said I; βbut I tell you, heβs apt to bite.β βHe can scarcely be a worse bite than his master,β said the man, looking into the horseβs mouth; βheβs four off. I say, young man, will you warrant this horse?β βNo,β said I; βI never warrant horses; the horses that I ride can always warrant themselves.β βI wish you would let me speak a word to you,β said he. βJust come aside. Itβs a nice horse,β said he in a half-whisper, after I had ridden a few paces aside with him. βItβs a nice horse,β said he, placing his hand upon the pommel of the saddle, and looking up in my face, βand I think I can find you a customer. If you would take a hundred, I think my lord would purchase it, for he has sent me about the fair to look him up a horse, by which he could hope to make an honest penny.β βWell,β said I, βand could he not make an honest penny, and yet give me the price I ask?β βWhy,β said the go-between, βa hundred and fifty pounds is as much as the animal is worth, or nearly so; and my lord, do you seeβ ββ βI see no reason at all,β said I, βwhy I should sell the animal for less than he is worth, in order that his lordship may be benefited by him; so that if his lordship wants to make an honest penny, he must find some person who would consider the disadvantage of selling him a horse for less than it is worth as counterbalanced by the honour of dealing with a lord, which I should never do; but I canβt be wasting my time here. I am going back to the βΈ», where, if you, or any person, are desirous of purchasing the horse, you must come within the next half-hour, or I shall probably not feel disposed to sell him at all.β βAnother word, young man,β said the jockey, but without staying to hear what he had to say, I put the horse to his best trot, and re-entering the town, and threading my way as well as I could through the press, I returned to the yard of the inn, where, dismounting, I stood still, holding the horse by the bridle.
I had been standing in this manner about five minutes, when I saw the jockey enter the yard, accompanied by another individual. They advanced directly towards me. βHere is my lord come to look at the horse, young man,β said the jockey. My lord, as the jockey called him,
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