Chapter 6

Many thanks for your valuable critical emendations, which have been duly and thankfully introduced. I fear myliberaleducation and foreign travel will never enable me to spell either my own or any other language. You can form no idea how very difficult it is for a hasty,currente calamo,slipshod writer like me to form a critical, sober, proper style. That stile is always in my way, as it is in the country; I shall never, I fear, change my old into the new stile, nor get my writing stile,stilus, sufficiently pointed, although whetted on so excellent a bone as your Excellency is. You are quite qualified to be the Editor of theQuarterly Review, and I wish you were, for I wonder Lockhart overlooks the manifest flaws you detect.I am by no means averse to thelimæ labor, and am really anxious to turn out my wares in a workmanlike manner; I often take more pains with them than you or my readers will give me credit for.

I am by no means averse to thelimæ labor, and am really anxious to turn out my wares in a workmanlike manner; I often take more pains with them than you or my readers will give me credit for.

Between July 1837 and April 1838 Ford contributed nothing to theReview. Beyond putting the final touches to articles already prepared for the press, his pen was idle. He had become engaged to a lady whom he had known intimately for several years, the Hon. Eliza Cranstoun, sister of the tenth Lord Cranstoun. On October 7th, 1837, he writes of his engagement to Addington:

As the affair has been the unceasing nine days’ wonder of this part of the world, it is no longer a secret, and has been duly communicated to Lord Essex. Therefore you may participate to the fair partner of your joys the important secret so long concealed in the diplomatic depths of your silentbosom, “un secreto de importanza.” I hope in due time that these ladies will meet, and like each other, and be equally of opinion, that no men make such excellent, super-excellent husbands as those who have lived in the world, been in Spain, andnot beenthere for three or four years.Be assured that there is no truth in my selling my Alhambra. My Sultana, who disposes of me, and my house, and all, is pleased with the idea of leading a loving, rational, quiet life there. The Moorish tower is finished, and covered with arabesqueLienzowork, and is prettier than the Puerta del Vino of the Alhambra.

Be assured that there is no truth in my selling my Alhambra. My Sultana, who disposes of me, and my house, and all, is pleased with the idea of leading a loving, rational, quiet life there. The Moorish tower is finished, and covered with arabesqueLienzowork, and is prettier than the Puerta del Vino of the Alhambra.

The marriage took place February 24th, 1838, and Mr. and Mrs. Ford began life together at Heavitree.

Heavitree,March 6, 1838.Your kind and friendly letter (as all indeed have been and are) was duly and gratefully received by me, and dutifully communicated to that sweet person in whose keeping I have placed myself and my happiness, and, having done so, my perturbed spirit is at rest. This ceremony took place on the 24th, at Stoke Gabriel, a beautiful little hamlet in one of those quiet sequestered nooks on the Dart, where the woods slope into the clear waters, a localitydulces qui suadet amores. She was verynervous and affected, but went through the trying scene with that purity, grace, and propriety which mark all she says or does. I was nervous, but very collected, and think few men were more aware than I was, how much and entirely the future depends on the husband. I am not afraid of myself, and less of her. We returned to Sandridge, and in the afternoon proceeded quietly to this quiet cell, gladdened with the sunny presence of a cheerful, contented mistress. She is highly pleased with her abodeand(I am pleased to say) with the master. All is placed at herdisposicion. Indeed, since you were here so much has been done, internally and externally, that you would not know the place. I am in hopes, now there is a fit personage to receive her, that some daydie gnädige Frau Gesandterrinn(C.P.B.) will honour this (her) house. The Moorish trellis-walk and the tower are worth seeing. We are expecting Lord Cranstoun here to-day, and King on the 10th. Strange that he should come to witness my hymeneals, as we did his. We shall then proceed reluctantly to London. I have got rid of my house in Jermyn Street at a sad loss of coin, but a great gain of peace. I am still hampered with theCasitain Lowndes Street, where my children are. I hope this year to get rid of that, and then to pitch my tent here, far from theopesstrepitumque Romæ. I am going to build a small Britzka, and have bought another nag, which goes well in harness with my old horse, you will remember. Madame rides well, and has a beautiful horse which her brother has given her. We think of driving up to town, and be not therefore surprised at an intimation that we may take you in the way for a night. I will present you to my spouse, and you will do me the same service by yours, to whom I in anticipation offer my profound respects. I meditate an article on Spanish Heraldry and on Bull-fighting. So farewell. Cherish your spouse, and think no more of the past norlas tierras calientes.

Heavitree,March 6, 1838.

Your kind and friendly letter (as all indeed have been and are) was duly and gratefully received by me, and dutifully communicated to that sweet person in whose keeping I have placed myself and my happiness, and, having done so, my perturbed spirit is at rest. This ceremony took place on the 24th, at Stoke Gabriel, a beautiful little hamlet in one of those quiet sequestered nooks on the Dart, where the woods slope into the clear waters, a localitydulces qui suadet amores. She was verynervous and affected, but went through the trying scene with that purity, grace, and propriety which mark all she says or does. I was nervous, but very collected, and think few men were more aware than I was, how much and entirely the future depends on the husband. I am not afraid of myself, and less of her. We returned to Sandridge, and in the afternoon proceeded quietly to this quiet cell, gladdened with the sunny presence of a cheerful, contented mistress. She is highly pleased with her abodeand(I am pleased to say) with the master. All is placed at herdisposicion. Indeed, since you were here so much has been done, internally and externally, that you would not know the place. I am in hopes, now there is a fit personage to receive her, that some daydie gnädige Frau Gesandterrinn(C.P.B.) will honour this (her) house. The Moorish trellis-walk and the tower are worth seeing. We are expecting Lord Cranstoun here to-day, and King on the 10th. Strange that he should come to witness my hymeneals, as we did his. We shall then proceed reluctantly to London. I have got rid of my house in Jermyn Street at a sad loss of coin, but a great gain of peace. I am still hampered with theCasitain Lowndes Street, where my children are. I hope this year to get rid of that, and then to pitch my tent here, far from theopesstrepitumque Romæ. I am going to build a small Britzka, and have bought another nag, which goes well in harness with my old horse, you will remember. Madame rides well, and has a beautiful horse which her brother has given her. We think of driving up to town, and be not therefore surprised at an intimation that we may take you in the way for a night. I will present you to my spouse, and you will do me the same service by yours, to whom I in anticipation offer my profound respects. I meditate an article on Spanish Heraldry and on Bull-fighting. So farewell. Cherish your spouse, and think no more of the past norlas tierras calientes.

The two articles to which Ford alludes at the close of the letter were published before the end of the year. Both were full of curious information gleaned from a wide field. The article on “Bull Fights” is remarkably complete and exhaustive, and is especially interesting from the personal observation which lightens the historical details. Before publication it had been submitted to Addington for criticism.

Heavitree,Aug. 16, 1838.Many thanks for your tororesque notices. I have finished the paper,—opus exegi,—having worked incessantly for a fortnight five or six hours a day. The MSS. goes up with this to the printer’s. Ihave begged him to send you a proof: will you be so kind as to run it over, and forward it herepermailquam primum? Never mind correcting the press, exceptthe Spanish.The article is long, and I am not afraid of your Excellency’s shears, and will gladly avail myself of any proposed excisions or additions. Any word or idea more pungent than my poor thoughts might be pencilled in the margin. The article is extremely learned and tororesque. I think the old subject is treated newly. I hope Murray will treat me to £36 15s., as gaunt poverty flits about my gilded ceiling. I wish you could see the dining-room, all blue, red, yellow, and greenà laMamhead, very gay and brilliant. Madame is quite well and happy, and salutes yourdimidium vitæ animæque. We are going next week for a few days to Sandridge, a place of her brother’s. I shall then hurry back to correct the press. I intendsummingup with a few general remarks on the moral tendency and effect on Spanish character produced by the bull-fight. If you have ever philosophically cogitated thereon, favour me with a few “’ints.” My idea is that the Spaniards were cruel and ferocious before they had bull-fights; that bull-fights are rather an effect than a cause, albeit they reciprocate now; that the savage part is lost onthem from early habit; that the sporting feeling predominates; and that strangers are hardly fair judges, for they feelfirstexcitement, then bore, then disgust;borethe predominant. Still, the whole is magnificent, though the details (like Paris) are miserable. I should like to have a neat peroration, and am going to meditate on the subject in those shady groves which hang over the clear Dart, where we as bachelors used to toil and catch no fish, and where I caught that fish which has swallowed up all others and all my cares besides.

Heavitree,Aug. 16, 1838.

Many thanks for your tororesque notices. I have finished the paper,—opus exegi,—having worked incessantly for a fortnight five or six hours a day. The MSS. goes up with this to the printer’s. Ihave begged him to send you a proof: will you be so kind as to run it over, and forward it herepermailquam primum? Never mind correcting the press, exceptthe Spanish.

The article is long, and I am not afraid of your Excellency’s shears, and will gladly avail myself of any proposed excisions or additions. Any word or idea more pungent than my poor thoughts might be pencilled in the margin. The article is extremely learned and tororesque. I think the old subject is treated newly. I hope Murray will treat me to £36 15s., as gaunt poverty flits about my gilded ceiling. I wish you could see the dining-room, all blue, red, yellow, and greenà laMamhead, very gay and brilliant. Madame is quite well and happy, and salutes yourdimidium vitæ animæque. We are going next week for a few days to Sandridge, a place of her brother’s. I shall then hurry back to correct the press. I intendsummingup with a few general remarks on the moral tendency and effect on Spanish character produced by the bull-fight. If you have ever philosophically cogitated thereon, favour me with a few “’ints.” My idea is that the Spaniards were cruel and ferocious before they had bull-fights; that bull-fights are rather an effect than a cause, albeit they reciprocate now; that the savage part is lost onthem from early habit; that the sporting feeling predominates; and that strangers are hardly fair judges, for they feelfirstexcitement, then bore, then disgust;borethe predominant. Still, the whole is magnificent, though the details (like Paris) are miserable. I should like to have a neat peroration, and am going to meditate on the subject in those shady groves which hang over the clear Dart, where we as bachelors used to toil and catch no fish, and where I caught that fish which has swallowed up all others and all my cares besides.

Spanish Bull-feasts and Bull-fightscreated something of a sensation in the literary world. It was noticed with high praise in the journals of the time, and Ford writes to thank Addington for an extract which he had himself overlooked.

Heavitree,December 5 [1838].The critique is so palatable, that I beg you will not think I wrote it myself. Pray, as you will be in franking-land, let me know whence you extracted it. I am delighted. I want people to think that Icould, if I wished, write a d—d, long, dry, serious essay, which they wouldnotread. The political pepper flavours thePuchero, and it is exactlythatthat makes Lockhart write to me that all the world cries “Bravo!”I am buttered by Murray, and considered aman ofdeep research.Dii boni!and peopleregretthat I “shouldpersifler, and amuse, instead of boring.”

Heavitree,December 5 [1838].

The critique is so palatable, that I beg you will not think I wrote it myself. Pray, as you will be in franking-land, let me know whence you extracted it. I am delighted. I want people to think that Icould, if I wished, write a d—d, long, dry, serious essay, which they wouldnotread. The political pepper flavours thePuchero, and it is exactlythatthat makes Lockhart write to me that all the world cries “Bravo!”

I am buttered by Murray, and considered aman ofdeep research.Dii boni!and peopleregretthat I “shouldpersifler, and amuse, instead of boring.”

Ford had undertaken a review of Prescott’sFerdinand and Isabella, “an admirable book,” he tells Addington, “thebestbook ever written by a Yankee.” But he found the task difficult. On February 9th, 1839, he writes to Addington from his mother’s house in London:—

Your letter followed me to this foggy, careworn abode of attorneys, and men who sow tares in the corn of human happiness. I have been up here nearly three weeks, to my infinite worry and the fret of an absent and disconsolate spouse, about mortgages and the devil knows what of my own and my mother. I hope to get back again to my pleasant houseet placens uxorbefore the end of next week.All these breaks interfere sadly with literary pursuits. The rolling stone gathers no moss. Prescott, promised half a year ago, is not yet begun! In fact, I blink, bolt, shy and jib from the task. Meanwhile, to keep my pen in, I have written a lightish article onRonda and Granada, which looks well in print, and will come out in the next number, and Prescott in the June number.I have read Gurwood attentively, which took sixweeks, and never were six weeks better employed. Murray tells me that the Duke cut out as much more as would have made six more volumes. What a pity! But they will be printed when that great man is gone.Serus in cœlum redeat!Do you know that I amupin the market, and that my articles are thought No. 1, Letter A,—clear grit? I am fed by those who usually feed lions, and curious people are asked to meetme. This is not unamusing. I have seen “Sam Slick” (Haliburton); Scrope, who wrote that charming book onDeer Stalking; Jones of the Alhambra, Marryat, etc., and I do not know who. Murray feeds well, and his claret is particular; “Bulls” £36 15s.; so my papers rise in value. Lockhart’sBalladsare to be republished, and I rather think that I am to edit them. All this looks like turning author. Who would have thought it? and to have a character for most profound reading and research!Dii boni!I met a friend of yours yesterday at Lockhart’s—Mr. Best: we had a pleasant dinner; Scrope and Lord Selkirk, great shooters and fishers, whose healthy exploits gave a game flavour to the blue men around them. If I remained here, neither head, nor legs, norentrañascould do their work. It is all very well now and then. Butoh rus!quando te aspiciam? Not but what, if I had £5000 a year, I would spend three months in this metropolis to rub off rust, keep up acquaintances, and hear the news up to Saturday night.

All these breaks interfere sadly with literary pursuits. The rolling stone gathers no moss. Prescott, promised half a year ago, is not yet begun! In fact, I blink, bolt, shy and jib from the task. Meanwhile, to keep my pen in, I have written a lightish article onRonda and Granada, which looks well in print, and will come out in the next number, and Prescott in the June number.

I have read Gurwood attentively, which took sixweeks, and never were six weeks better employed. Murray tells me that the Duke cut out as much more as would have made six more volumes. What a pity! But they will be printed when that great man is gone.Serus in cœlum redeat!

Do you know that I amupin the market, and that my articles are thought No. 1, Letter A,—clear grit? I am fed by those who usually feed lions, and curious people are asked to meetme. This is not unamusing. I have seen “Sam Slick” (Haliburton); Scrope, who wrote that charming book onDeer Stalking; Jones of the Alhambra, Marryat, etc., and I do not know who. Murray feeds well, and his claret is particular; “Bulls” £36 15s.; so my papers rise in value. Lockhart’sBalladsare to be republished, and I rather think that I am to edit them. All this looks like turning author. Who would have thought it? and to have a character for most profound reading and research!Dii boni!

I met a friend of yours yesterday at Lockhart’s—Mr. Best: we had a pleasant dinner; Scrope and Lord Selkirk, great shooters and fishers, whose healthy exploits gave a game flavour to the blue men around them. If I remained here, neither head, nor legs, norentrañascould do their work. It is all very well now and then. Butoh rus!quando te aspiciam? Not but what, if I had £5000 a year, I would spend three months in this metropolis to rub off rust, keep up acquaintances, and hear the news up to Saturday night.

Six weeks later he was still engaged on his task. He writes from Heavitree, April 2nd, 1839:—

I have been occupied, since my return to these myrtle bowers, in a review on Prescott’sFerdinand and Isabella. I ought to have done it long ago; but I deferred and deferred.Mañana, mañana!I find it a tougher job than I had expected, and almost think that I have undertaken a task for which I am unfit. However,stultorum numerus est infinitus, and I presume on people knowing less than myself. It will be a mighty dull, learned, and historical affair.I am not very well, as I cannot sleep. I never can when I write, and believe you are right to hunt and fish, the originaldélassementof a gentleman.

I am not very well, as I cannot sleep. I never can when I write, and believe you are right to hunt and fish, the originaldélassementof a gentleman.

At lastFerdinand and Isabellawas finished and published. The article deals more with the subject than with the book. It is, however, important from the new lights which it throws upon the period, drawn from the writer’s intimate knowledge, not only of the history, but of the country and the people. Some trace of effort appears in the unusual elaboration. But another article whichwas printed in the same number of theQuarterlywas in Ford’s most characteristic vein. This was a review ofOliver Twist. In a letter dated April 29th, 1839, he had asked Addington’s opinion of Dickens’ style, and given his own view. “I am inclined to think it,” he says, “the reaction from the Silver Fork school and the Rosa Matildas, ‘car le dégoût du beau amène le goût du singulier.’”He also regarded the book as a product and a sign of democratic times. Both the literary and political theories are developed in theQuarterly, where he describes “Boz” as “a lively half-bred colt of great promise, bone and action,—sire, ‘Constantine the Great,’—dam, ‘Reform.’”

“Constantine the Great” is Constantine Henry Phipps, first Marquis of Normanby, and the most distinguished of the “prattling scribbling Phippses.” His kid-glove novels and romances, founded on actual occurrences in society, tickled the curiosity of the public. Newspapers still further pandered to the same taste; “Perry and Stewart led the way by chronicling and posting the dinners, wooings, and marriages of high life.” But a diet of water gruel palled, and the patient “clamoured for beef and stout.” Sickened of the “smooth confectionery style,” “disgusted with die-awaydivorcéesand effeminate man-milliners,” the public fled in despair to “rude, rough, human, ‘Dusty-Bob’ nature.” Such was Ford’s explanation of the appearance ofOliver Twist. As a Tory, and an Irish mortgagee, he was no doubt pleased to treat the author ofMatilda, andYes or Noas one of these “Catilines in politics andliterature” who had helped forward “a depraved taste” and “the degradation of the higher classes, whether monarchical, clerical, or aristocratical.” Not only had Lord Normanby changed sides and deserted the Tories for the Liberals, but, as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland (1835-39), his attempt to conciliate O’Connell, his patronage of the Catholic Party, and his leniency towards political crime, had, in the opinion of his opponents, endangered the very existence of law and order. Politics apart, the review shows a keen appreciation of the genius and faults of Dickens. It concludes with a just tribute to the haunting power of George Cruikshank, for whom Ford demands admission to the rank of a Royal Academician: “We are really surprised that such judges as Wilkie, Landseer, Leslie, Allan, etc., have not ere now insisted on breaking through all puny laws, and giving this man of undoubted genius a diploma.”

The last months of the year were spent in preparations for a tour abroad. Addington and his wife were also going, and were to meet the Fords at Rome.

Many thanks (writes Ford, August 4th, 1839) for all your valuable hints. I rather incline to cross over from Weymouth to Cherbourg, or, if not so, from Southampton to Jersey and St. Malo. As I intend to go through the south, it will beautant de gagné sur la belle France. I take it we shall have bad inns between St. Malo and Toulouse.No hay atajo sin trabajo[no convenience without inconvenience]. We shall follow your steps with due respect, and, I hope, meet in the Eternal City.I progress greatly in design, and am washing in skies which are heavier than lead. I reckon onyourportable library and beg to tell you that I take Shakespeare, Burton’sRome, and Conder’sItaly, which will always beá la disposicion de V.E. y de mi Señora la Esposa de V.E. (C.P.B.)I have just bought a charming Britzka here which was made at Vienna, and shall therefore jog down with all my traps, pictorial and piscatorial. I am sorry that you do not take your rod and line. How little room they will take! andquien sabe?Who knows what trout spring in Terni’s fall? I never was so agog for migration, and intend to go the whole Continental hog.You will have the pleasure of seeing your old friend Sir Richard Ottley at Naples,—he who asked us to dine at 5 to meet the Miss Barings. We will not dine with him at Naples, be his macaroni royal. His daughter has turned Roman Catholic: so much for taking imaginative maidens into the glowing climes of ItalianAbates.We have been all gaieties here. The great squires have been givingdéjeuners, with archery and pine-apples, under tents. We will eatpolpette,drink Orvieto in the Eternal City, and grow young and forget years and care.

I progress greatly in design, and am washing in skies which are heavier than lead. I reckon onyourportable library and beg to tell you that I take Shakespeare, Burton’sRome, and Conder’sItaly, which will always beá la disposicion de V.E. y de mi Señora la Esposa de V.E. (C.P.B.)

I have just bought a charming Britzka here which was made at Vienna, and shall therefore jog down with all my traps, pictorial and piscatorial. I am sorry that you do not take your rod and line. How little room they will take! andquien sabe?Who knows what trout spring in Terni’s fall? I never was so agog for migration, and intend to go the whole Continental hog.

You will have the pleasure of seeing your old friend Sir Richard Ottley at Naples,—he who asked us to dine at 5 to meet the Miss Barings. We will not dine with him at Naples, be his macaroni royal. His daughter has turned Roman Catholic: so much for taking imaginative maidens into the glowing climes of ItalianAbates.

We have been all gaieties here. The great squires have been givingdéjeuners, with archery and pine-apples, under tents. We will eatpolpette,drink Orvieto in the Eternal City, and grow young and forget years and care.

Ford returned from the Continent in July 1840. Of his travels no account exists, as he journeyed in company with Addington, who alone preserved his letters. But he writes, September 7th, 1840, to welcome his friend back to England from “the land of macaroni and sour crout.”

Did you (he asks) get a letter from me at Milan? It contained an account of my Sicilian trip and of our hurried flight home. We drove through France as hard as four horses could go, and crossed from Havre on the 14th of July—nine months to a day.Meanwhile we are slowly recovering from the vast scarifications and bleedings ofItalia cum Gallia. I am afraid to look at all the items; I should like to see your sum total.N’importe!It was a gallant trip, and shed a flood of new light and sources of future reading, writing, and drawing on one’s mind.When you were in Rome I asked you to lend me yourMinaño, diccionario de España. I am going to do a handbook for Spain for Murray, and we have not been able to get a Minaño in London. I will take the greatest care of it, and send you an early copy of the book when written and when published—when!!—for your fee. Will you pack

Meanwhile we are slowly recovering from the vast scarifications and bleedings ofItalia cum Gallia. I am afraid to look at all the items; I should like to see your sum total.N’importe!It was a gallant trip, and shed a flood of new light and sources of future reading, writing, and drawing on one’s mind.

When you were in Rome I asked you to lend me yourMinaño, diccionario de España. I am going to do a handbook for Spain for Murray, and we have not been able to get a Minaño in London. I will take the greatest care of it, and send you an early copy of the book when written and when published—when!!—for your fee. Will you pack

Antonio Chatelain PinxEmery Walker Ph Sc.Richard Ford1840.

Antonio Chatelain PinxEmery Walker Ph Sc.

Richard Ford

1840.

it up and send it mepercoach? I hope to do the little book before February.

The Handbook for Travellers in Spain, here first mentioned, seems to have been undertaken almost in jest. In 1839, when Ford was dining with John Murray, the publisher, his host asked him to recommend a man to write a Spanish guide-book. “I will do it myself,” replied Ford, and thought no more on the subject. But, after his return from abroad, Murray definitely asked him to write the book. His estimate of the time necessary to complete the work proved far too moderate. Instead of six months, the myrtle and ivy-clad garden-house at Heavitree, to which he retired as a study, was for nearly five years the scene of his labours. Week after week he sat at his inky deal table, clad in his Spanish jacket of black sheepskin, surrounded by shelves laden with parchment-clad folios and quartos, by pigeon-holes crammed with notes to repletion, and by piles of manuscript which gradually encumbered the chairs and floor. Here he entertained his visitors with his book-rarities, and poured forth his complaints, half serious, half humorous, of the slavery to which he had condemned himself.

In spite of its modest title, theHandbookis really a most entertaining encyclopedia of Spanish history and antiquities, religion and art, life and manners. But the slavery might have been less protracted if it had been mitigated by fewer distractions. Nor had Ford acquired the habit of prolonged labour on a lengthy subject. Reviewwriting had encouraged him in the short bursts of literary industry, concentrated on a comparatively restricted field, which were most congenial to his natural tastes and character. No doubt, as time went on, and as he realised the magnitude of his task, he grew heartily weary of theHandbook. But it may be doubted whether the form is not the best that, under the circumstances, he could have chosen. At all events, no trace of effort appears in the lively vivacious style which communicated to the reader a prodigious mass of information in the easiest possible manner.

More than two months passed before the book was begun. Even then it was interrupted by other literary work.

Heavitree,13 September, 1840.The Minaños are duly arrived, and to-morrow will leave this library for a den in a cottage here in my garden, where I am going to retire and composeHandbook. What a mass of matter the said Minaño contains, and how will it be simmered down into a gallipot guide-book?I have no news yet of the macaroni; but it is in London. Let me know how you feel as to sharing in therotuli. There is no delicacy in refusing, if the taste be swamped by eating German sour crout, as there are more amateurs for that article hereabouts than for Rafaello ware. By the way, I could indeed turn one honest penny by those potsand plates, having been offeredguineasfor what costscudi, and having weeded my collection very nearly to the amount of the prime cost. The marbles are still in the agents’ custody, as I have nowhere to put them here. But buying what one does not want is the veritable malaria of the Via Babuino.The weather is so delicious that I have not the heart to begin work. I take a lesson every day in drawing, and am going through the whole of my sketches, which then will be put in a huge book. It is wonderful, as in the case of Spain, how they carry you back to scenes long forgotten, and awaken a million events hived in the brain, which, like dewdrops on the boughs, only fall when touched! There’s a go!I don’t wonder at the contending elements that are now fermenting in your noddle. They will all settle down into a delicious elixir to sweeten future existence, and make cheerful the domestic fireside when a lull comes—which will happen, and indeed ought to happen, as we can’t be always living on cayenne and lollypops.

Heavitree,13 September, 1840.

The Minaños are duly arrived, and to-morrow will leave this library for a den in a cottage here in my garden, where I am going to retire and composeHandbook. What a mass of matter the said Minaño contains, and how will it be simmered down into a gallipot guide-book?

I have no news yet of the macaroni; but it is in London. Let me know how you feel as to sharing in therotuli. There is no delicacy in refusing, if the taste be swamped by eating German sour crout, as there are more amateurs for that article hereabouts than for Rafaello ware. By the way, I could indeed turn one honest penny by those potsand plates, having been offeredguineasfor what costscudi, and having weeded my collection very nearly to the amount of the prime cost. The marbles are still in the agents’ custody, as I have nowhere to put them here. But buying what one does not want is the veritable malaria of the Via Babuino.

The weather is so delicious that I have not the heart to begin work. I take a lesson every day in drawing, and am going through the whole of my sketches, which then will be put in a huge book. It is wonderful, as in the case of Spain, how they carry you back to scenes long forgotten, and awaken a million events hived in the brain, which, like dewdrops on the boughs, only fall when touched! There’s a go!

I don’t wonder at the contending elements that are now fermenting in your noddle. They will all settle down into a delicious elixir to sweeten future existence, and make cheerful the domestic fireside when a lull comes—which will happen, and indeed ought to happen, as we can’t be always living on cayenne and lollypops.

November 6, 1840.I assure you I have been so scared about war, and the exposed site of Heavitree between Exmouth and Exeter, that I have been meditating movingup land my Wilsons androba fina. However, I think the storm is clearing away.ViveLouis Philippe!While you are hunting of foxes, I am going to hunt through Minaño. I begin Spanish Handbook next week.

November 6, 1840.

I assure you I have been so scared about war, and the exposed site of Heavitree between Exmouth and Exeter, that I have been meditating movingup land my Wilsons androba fina. However, I think the storm is clearing away.ViveLouis Philippe!

While you are hunting of foxes, I am going to hunt through Minaño. I begin Spanish Handbook next week.

Wednesday, November 18, 1840.The Minaños frighten me, like the great Genius did the Arabian fisherman. How am I to get this mass into the small pot or duodecimo handbook?Handbook lingers. I have made no progress, and am tempted to give it up. I am all for the sublime and beautiful, sententious and sesquipedalian. I can’t cool my style to the tone of a way-bill.

Wednesday, November 18, 1840.

The Minaños frighten me, like the great Genius did the Arabian fisherman. How am I to get this mass into the small pot or duodecimo handbook?

Handbook lingers. I have made no progress, and am tempted to give it up. I am all for the sublime and beautiful, sententious and sesquipedalian. I can’t cool my style to the tone of a way-bill.

Gradually the work shaped itself in his mind and in print.

“Part of Handbook” (he writes, January 14th, 1841) “is gone to press.” “I am meditating” (he says, February 16th, 1841) “a serious go at the Handbook, and have got about forty pages of preliminary remarks in print, which I am told are amusing. I have written them off like a letter,sermone pedestri, without, however, forgetting theajo y cibolla[garlic and onion].”

On March 26th, 1841, the first batch was sent to Addington.

“I send you a few sheets of Handbook. If your eyes will permit you to run through it, pray correct any error or make any suggestion. I have done about fifty pages (letterpress) more. The object I have is to combine learning with facetiousness,utile dulci.”

April 11, 1841.The print is damnable, and what is worse is the enormous quantity it takes to a page. All this preliminary part, which will run to two hundred pages, is an after-thought of mine. Murray only bargained for distances and mere lionizing. It appears to me that the traveller in aVentawill thank me for an amusing bit of reading. How often have I cursed Starke[45]for the contrary, and I hope to give a true insight into Spanish manners.

April 11, 1841.

The print is damnable, and what is worse is the enormous quantity it takes to a page. All this preliminary part, which will run to two hundred pages, is an after-thought of mine. Murray only bargained for distances and mere lionizing. It appears to me that the traveller in aVentawill thank me for an amusing bit of reading. How often have I cursed Starke[45]for the contrary, and I hope to give a true insight into Spanish manners.

May 4, 1841.I have already expunged the bits that you objected to, and the sheets read all the better for it. I grieve deeply that the print is so execrable. But you cannot tell what a service your sound censorship is. I writecurrente calamoin a sort ofslip-slap-and-shod style both as to matter and language. It comes boiling over like a soda-water bottle, and I cannot help it. I daresay that, if I had more time, I should make itworse, as it would be more laboured.

May 4, 1841.

I have already expunged the bits that you objected to, and the sheets read all the better for it. I grieve deeply that the print is so execrable. But you cannot tell what a service your sound censorship is. I writecurrente calamoin a sort ofslip-slap-and-shod style both as to matter and language. It comes boiling over like a soda-water bottle, and I cannot help it. I daresay that, if I had more time, I should make itworse, as it would be more laboured.

November 3, 1841.I am not so bigoted a Carlist as to think all reform a wilderness. But my antiquarian, artistical andromanticpredilections make me grieve at seeing barbarous destructives overturning in an hour the works of ages of taste and magnificence. This age can only destroy: witness cheap, compo churchesversuscathedrals.I am getting very slowly on. But I hope it may be done by May or June. I intend in a short preface to allude to the “state of transition” of the moment. But some things are fixed—country, ruins, battlefields, history of the past. All that can be pointed out. I am only afraid it will betoogood.

November 3, 1841.

I am not so bigoted a Carlist as to think all reform a wilderness. But my antiquarian, artistical andromanticpredilections make me grieve at seeing barbarous destructives overturning in an hour the works of ages of taste and magnificence. This age can only destroy: witness cheap, compo churchesversuscathedrals.

I am getting very slowly on. But I hope it may be done by May or June. I intend in a short preface to allude to the “state of transition” of the moment. But some things are fixed—country, ruins, battlefields, history of the past. All that can be pointed out. I am only afraid it will betoogood.

November 18, 1841.I am sick of Handbook. I meditate bringing out the first volume, thepreliminaryand the most difficult, early next spring. It is nearly completed. It is a series of essays, and has plagued me to death. The next volume will be more mechanical and matter-of-fact—what Murray wanted; and I aman ass for my pains. I have been throwing pearly articles into the trough of a road-book. However, there will be stuff in it.

November 18, 1841.

I am sick of Handbook. I meditate bringing out the first volume, thepreliminaryand the most difficult, early next spring. It is nearly completed. It is a series of essays, and has plagued me to death. The next volume will be more mechanical and matter-of-fact—what Murray wanted; and I aman ass for my pains. I have been throwing pearly articles into the trough of a road-book. However, there will be stuff in it.

Weary of theHandbook, Ford turned from it with relief to a subject after his own heart. In 1841 George Borrow published hisZincali; or an Account of the Gypsies in Spain. Interested both in the writer and his work, his own mind absorbed in Spanish life, Ford laid aside theHandbookto write an article on the book, which he had himself recommended to Murray for publication. His article ultimately appeared in theBritish and Foreign Review(No. XXVI., p. 367).

I have made acquaintance (he tells Addington, January 14th, 1841) with an extraordinary fellow,George Borrow, who went out to Spain to convert thegipsies. He is about to publish his failure, and a curious book it will be. It was submitted to my perusal by the hesitating Murray.Borrow is done (he writes November 3rd, 1841), and I daresay will soon be printed. I took the greatest pains with it, and Lockhart, on reading a portion, wrote to me that it was “perfect”—a great word from a man not prodigal of praise.

Borrow is done (he writes November 3rd, 1841), and I daresay will soon be printed. I took the greatest pains with it, and Lockhart, on reading a portion, wrote to me that it was “perfect”—a great word from a man not prodigal of praise.

In an undated letter to John Murray, he says:

I have written a very careful review of Borrow’sGypsies, with which Lockhart seems well pleased.The book has created a great sensation far and wide. I was sure it would, and I hope you think that when I read the MS. my opinion and advice were sound.I have now a letter from Borrow telling me that he has nearly completed hisBible in Spain. I have given him much advice,—to avoid Spanish historians andpoetrylike Prussic acid; to stick to himself, his biography, and queer adventures. He writes: “I shall attend to all your advice. The book will consist entirely of my personal adventures, travels, etc., in that country during five years. I met with a number of strange characters, all of whom I have introduced; the most surprising of them is my Greek servant, who accompanied me in my ride of 1500 miles.”The author writes again, November 8th: “The Bible in Spainis a rum, very rum, mixture of gipseyism, Judaism, and missionary adventure, and I have no doubt will be greedily read.”I have some thoughts of asking him down here with his MS., and pruning it a little for him.

I have now a letter from Borrow telling me that he has nearly completed hisBible in Spain. I have given him much advice,—to avoid Spanish historians andpoetrylike Prussic acid; to stick to himself, his biography, and queer adventures. He writes: “I shall attend to all your advice. The book will consist entirely of my personal adventures, travels, etc., in that country during five years. I met with a number of strange characters, all of whom I have introduced; the most surprising of them is my Greek servant, who accompanied me in my ride of 1500 miles.”

The author writes again, November 8th: “The Bible in Spainis a rum, very rum, mixture of gipseyism, Judaism, and missionary adventure, and I have no doubt will be greedily read.”

I have some thoughts of asking him down here with his MS., and pruning it a little for him.

An early copy ofThe Bible in Spainseems to have been given to Ford by John Murray. In a letter[46]to the publisher he thus describes its character.

I read Borrow with great delight all the way down per rail, and it shortened the rapid flight of that velocipede. You may depend upon it that the book will sell, which, after all, is the rub. It is the antipodes of Lord Carnarvon, and yet how they tally in what they have in common, and that is much—the people, the scenery of Galicia, and the suspicions and absurdities of Spanish Jacks-in-office, who yield not in ignorance or insolence to any kind of red-tapists, hatched in the hot-beds of jobbery and utilitarian mares-nests. Borrow spares none of them. I see he hits right and left, and floors his man whenever he meets him. I am pleased with his honest sincerity of purpose and his graphic abrupt style. It is like an old Spanish ballad, leapingin medias res, going from incident to incident, bang, bang, bang, hops, steps, and jumps like a cracker, and leaving off like one, when you wish he would give you another touch orcoup de grâce.He really puts me in mind of Gil Blas; but he has not the sneer of the Frenchman, nor does he gild the bad. He has a touch of Bunyan, and, like that enthusiastic tinker, hammers away,à la Gitano, whenever he thinks he can thwack the Devil or his man-of-all-work on earth—the Pope. Therein he resembles my friend and everybody’s friend—Punch—who, amidst all his adventures, never spares the black one.However, I am not going to review him now; for I know that Mr. Lockhart has expressed a wish that I should do it for theQuarterly Review. Now, a wish from my liege master is a command. I had half engaged myself elsewhere, thinking that he did not quite appreciate such atrumpas I know Borrow to be. He is as full of meat as an egg, and a fresh-laid one—not one of your Inglis breed, long addled by over-bookmaking. Borrow will lay you golden eggs, and hatch them after the ways of Egypt; put salt on his tail and secure him in your coop, and beware how any poacher coaxes him with ‘raisins’ or reasons out of the Albemarle preserve.When you see Mr. Lockhart tell him that I will do the paper. I owe my entire allegiance to theQ. R.flag.... Perhaps my understanding thefull forceof this “gratia” makes me over-partial to this wild Missionary; but I have ridden over the same tracks without the tracts, seen the same people, and know that he is true, and I believe that he believes all that he writes to be true.

He really puts me in mind of Gil Blas; but he has not the sneer of the Frenchman, nor does he gild the bad. He has a touch of Bunyan, and, like that enthusiastic tinker, hammers away,à la Gitano, whenever he thinks he can thwack the Devil or his man-of-all-work on earth—the Pope. Therein he resembles my friend and everybody’s friend—Punch—who, amidst all his adventures, never spares the black one.

However, I am not going to review him now; for I know that Mr. Lockhart has expressed a wish that I should do it for theQuarterly Review. Now, a wish from my liege master is a command. I had half engaged myself elsewhere, thinking that he did not quite appreciate such atrumpas I know Borrow to be. He is as full of meat as an egg, and a fresh-laid one—not one of your Inglis breed, long addled by over-bookmaking. Borrow will lay you golden eggs, and hatch them after the ways of Egypt; put salt on his tail and secure him in your coop, and beware how any poacher coaxes him with ‘raisins’ or reasons out of the Albemarle preserve.

When you see Mr. Lockhart tell him that I will do the paper. I owe my entire allegiance to theQ. R.flag.... Perhaps my understanding thefull forceof this “gratia” makes me over-partial to this wild Missionary; but I have ridden over the same tracks without the tracts, seen the same people, and know that he is true, and I believe that he believes all that he writes to be true.

Before the book appeared, Ford had already begun a review of the work,[47]the progress of whichhe reports to Addington: “Borrow has got,” says a letter dated June 28th, 1842, “a very singular book coming out—The Bible in Spain—the place where one would be the least likely to meet it.” “How gat it there?” he asks later (November 21st), and describes the book as “a sort of Gil Blas and Bunyan rolled together.” His review came out in theEdinburgh Reviewfor February 1843 (vol. lxxvii. pp. 105-38).

I have been very busy (he writes, December 16th, 1842) about Borrow’sBible in Spain. It is a most curious book, and mind you read it, if you can steal a moment. In the lastQuarterlythere is a paper by Lockhart, principally extracts, which will only give you a slight notion of the contents of thechorizo[sausage]. The first sentence will amuse you, in which Lockhart grieves that he let slip my gipsy paper.[48]I would have done one for theQuarterly Review, but he only could give me five days. That was enough to write witha pair of scissors, but not quite for such a paper as the subject deserved. So I have done agrandis et verbosa epistola, which has been offered to theEd. Rev., and graciously accepted with many civil speeches. It is very careful, enters into thephilosophy of Spanish fanaticism, etc., very anti-Gallican.

Borrow, writing to John Murray, February 25th, 1843, alludes to theEdinburgharticle as “exceedingly brilliant and clever, but rather too epigrammatic, quotations scanty and not correct. Ford is certainly a most astonishing fellow; he quite flabbergasts me—handbooks, reviews, and I hear that he has just been writing a ‘Life of Velasquez’ for thePenny Cyclopædia.” But Ford’s infidelity to the orthodox organ provoked a characteristic note from the Duke of Wellington: “My dear Mr. Ford,” he wrote, “you think the Lord will forgive your former Whiggishisms: I daresay He may, but the Devil will have his due, and the contributions to theEdinburghare items in his account.” With these and many other interruptions, theHandbookhad made slow progress. Still, in its first draft, it was approaching completion.

Heavitree,Jan. 10, 1843.How you must have disported in rural idleness.Oh Rus!Here we have enough of it, and too much of local festivities. How the excise can fall off I can’t imagine. Here Belly is the god of all classes. The squires are not scared with the tariff, which by the way has done me no good in any respect, nor any one else that I can hear of, while the income tax is a real, tangible, awful evil.Drawing flourishes, and I am now making aSpanish volume, and have begun with Toledo, glorious, rock-built, imperial Toledo!I meditate coming up to town at Easter with my two girls, who are now assuming thetoga muliebris, having discarded their governess. The next step is a husband, and, when once a grandpapa, I shall consider the 5th act of thecomedia imbrogliataas fast approaching. I shall bring up the Spanish drawings, and, if any should revive in your Excellency recollections of pleasant days gone by, I shall be proud to make you any you may select for your private portfolio.Borrow is a queer chap. I believe that an extra number of theEdinburghis to come out next month, when my article will appear. I have just got an application to write the life of Velazquez for thePenny Cyclopædia. Murray will sigh for hisHandbookas you do for the country; but I am so interrupted that I have never fairly gone to work, and, as it is, at least two-thirds of what I have got together must be exscinded, but they are a useful mass of work got up for any future object.

Heavitree,Jan. 10, 1843.

How you must have disported in rural idleness.Oh Rus!Here we have enough of it, and too much of local festivities. How the excise can fall off I can’t imagine. Here Belly is the god of all classes. The squires are not scared with the tariff, which by the way has done me no good in any respect, nor any one else that I can hear of, while the income tax is a real, tangible, awful evil.

Drawing flourishes, and I am now making aSpanish volume, and have begun with Toledo, glorious, rock-built, imperial Toledo!

I meditate coming up to town at Easter with my two girls, who are now assuming thetoga muliebris, having discarded their governess. The next step is a husband, and, when once a grandpapa, I shall consider the 5th act of thecomedia imbrogliataas fast approaching. I shall bring up the Spanish drawings, and, if any should revive in your Excellency recollections of pleasant days gone by, I shall be proud to make you any you may select for your private portfolio.

Borrow is a queer chap. I believe that an extra number of theEdinburghis to come out next month, when my article will appear. I have just got an application to write the life of Velazquez for thePenny Cyclopædia. Murray will sigh for hisHandbookas you do for the country; but I am so interrupted that I have never fairly gone to work, and, as it is, at least two-thirds of what I have got together must be exscinded, but they are a useful mass of work got up for any future object.

Heavitree,27th Feb., /43.The enclosed will amuse, if notconvinceyou. I believe Borrow to be honest, albeit aGitano. His biography will be passing strange if he tells thewholetruth. He is now writing it by my advice.Have you found time to run through my paper in the lastEdinburgh Review, which the criticeelauds so much andpour cause? The value of a thing is, however, just what it willbring, and the thirty-two pages brought me £44, well and truly paid by the canny Scot, Napier, who does not throw away cash without “value received.” Verily the Whigs pay well, and willdoMurray by seducing his light troops. Hayward (also a Quarterly reviewer like me) figures in the last blue and bluff;proh pudor! et nummos!his paper on “Advertising” is droll.I have invested my £44 in Château Margaux.Handbookis done—that is, I have done myown hobby, and have covered a haycock of reams with the past and present of Spain: antiquities, art, history, manners, scenery, battles, and what not. Now comes therub, to cut out all that is good and simmer it down to a way-bill. Ishyand “gib” like a Pegasus in a dung-cart.

Heavitree,27th Feb., /43.

The enclosed will amuse, if notconvinceyou. I believe Borrow to be honest, albeit aGitano. His biography will be passing strange if he tells thewholetruth. He is now writing it by my advice.

Have you found time to run through my paper in the lastEdinburgh Review, which the criticeelauds so much andpour cause? The value of a thing is, however, just what it willbring, and the thirty-two pages brought me £44, well and truly paid by the canny Scot, Napier, who does not throw away cash without “value received.” Verily the Whigs pay well, and willdoMurray by seducing his light troops. Hayward (also a Quarterly reviewer like me) figures in the last blue and bluff;proh pudor! et nummos!his paper on “Advertising” is droll.

I have invested my £44 in Château Margaux.

Handbookis done—that is, I have done myown hobby, and have covered a haycock of reams with the past and present of Spain: antiquities, art, history, manners, scenery, battles, and what not. Now comes therub, to cut out all that is good and simmer it down to a way-bill. Ishyand “gib” like a Pegasus in a dung-cart.

Weymouth,July 30, 1843.I am here with all my family, first and second,[49]great and small, having been dabbling in brick, mortar, and paint at home—wild vagaries you will

Weymouth,July 30, 1843.

I am here with all my family, first and second,[49]great and small, having been dabbling in brick, mortar, and paint at home—wild vagaries you will

Marianne Houton, delEmery Walker Ph. Sc.Margaret Henrietta Ford1854.

Marianne Houton, delEmery Walker Ph. Sc.

Margaret Henrietta Ford

1854.

say for a man wholiveson an Irish mortgage; but those who have read Milesian and Iberian annals will take things coolly:son cosas de España y Irlanda, where peace and order are the exception, not the rule, and where row and blarney are as wholesome as fire to the salamander. I, however, wish we had agovernment. It would have been just as easy, instead of reading a sentence from a king’s speech, to have declared mooting repeal high treason.

There is no conciliating an enemy. Knock him down. “Hit him hardest in the weakest point,”oncesaid the Iron Duke. Now enemies sneer and despise, and good friends are cooled and stand aloof. Peel’s unpopularity in the far west is daily increasing;lowprices will ruin us all.

I set out to-morrow for town, having a week’s absence. I shall bring up Minaño,con muchas y muchissimas gracias. I have kept it an unconscionable while; but it has produced a bairn, which I shall beg your acceptance of: not much of a bairn, a Spanish parturition, a mouse from a mountain.

Minaño’s book, whatever people may say, is an admirable compilation.Handbookiswritten. Poor old Murray’s death has deranged the types in Albemarle Street, and theserowsin Spain are

not favourable to the man with the notebook; however, I shall settle something this next week.

Heavitree,Oct. 10, 1843.While you have been up to your middle in No. 6548, I have been boating and catching mackerel at Weymouth, eating Portland mutton, and dreaming of George III. Now the falling leaf has warned us to see the warm household and penates. TheDomushas been painted, and a new wing added, which is not paid for. Theplacens uxoris well and much improved by sea air; thechiquillais in stupendous force, and rejoicing in a new hoop.We shall have the railroad open to this place next May, and then you and Madame might run down and rusticate here amid the myrtles and forget Downing Street. I was rather idle at Weymouth; ’tis the quality of a watering-place; but now I am simmering and resimmering at Handbook; which although done, waits theimprimaturof Murray. The times are out of joint as regards Spanish travelling. I met a man yesterday at dinner just returned from a tour in Spain. Nothing can exceed the dilapidation and demoralisation. This new outbreak has come like the war after Ferdinand VII.’s death, to blight the improvements which quiet was producing. ThatFrench influence and Christina gold effected the matter, no one doubts in Spain. The French are hated and the English not unpopular.Borrow writes me word that hislifeis nearly ready, and that it will run theBiblehull down. If he tells truth, it will be a queer thing. I shall review it for theEdinburgh. There is nothing new here; the harvest has been splendid, and there is cider enough to make the country drunk. The farmers are in better spirits; if the Government did but know their strength and act, all would go well, but the house is on fire in many places, and not a bucket moved:Vaya! vaya! il faut cultiver son jardin.

Heavitree,Oct. 10, 1843.

While you have been up to your middle in No. 6548, I have been boating and catching mackerel at Weymouth, eating Portland mutton, and dreaming of George III. Now the falling leaf has warned us to see the warm household and penates. TheDomushas been painted, and a new wing added, which is not paid for. Theplacens uxoris well and much improved by sea air; thechiquillais in stupendous force, and rejoicing in a new hoop.

We shall have the railroad open to this place next May, and then you and Madame might run down and rusticate here amid the myrtles and forget Downing Street. I was rather idle at Weymouth; ’tis the quality of a watering-place; but now I am simmering and resimmering at Handbook; which although done, waits theimprimaturof Murray. The times are out of joint as regards Spanish travelling. I met a man yesterday at dinner just returned from a tour in Spain. Nothing can exceed the dilapidation and demoralisation. This new outbreak has come like the war after Ferdinand VII.’s death, to blight the improvements which quiet was producing. ThatFrench influence and Christina gold effected the matter, no one doubts in Spain. The French are hated and the English not unpopular.

Borrow writes me word that hislifeis nearly ready, and that it will run theBiblehull down. If he tells truth, it will be a queer thing. I shall review it for theEdinburgh. There is nothing new here; the harvest has been splendid, and there is cider enough to make the country drunk. The farmers are in better spirits; if the Government did but know their strength and act, all would go well, but the house is on fire in many places, and not a bucket moved:Vaya! vaya! il faut cultiver son jardin.

Heavitree,Dec. 28th, 1843.We are all here, pursuing the same uniform vegetable existence for which Devonians are renowned, and none the worse for the routine. It has been somewhat varied by my bringing outtwoDaughters, which, in point of satin slips, ball flounces, and trimmed nightcaps, is nearly equivalent to a marriage trousseau. The bills, combined with those of Eton, have reduced myIrish5 per cents. to almost an unknown quantity. Such is the perverse tendency of expenditure to advance in a more rapid ratio than increase of income. Ireland just now seems quiet; so is Vesuvius. IfDan carries the day, I shall be shot up, or rather be shot down, light as thescoriæby which Pompeii was covered over; but I have no fears whatever.Handbookis about to be printed. All these civil wars in Spain are not very attractive to the wayfaring man, who purchases in Albemarle Street; but I dare swear that ere April the goodly tomes—now two—will decorate Murray’s shop. The task has indeed been severe, yet a serious pleasure, a great occupation,—somewhat indeed too much, as the mind ought not to be kept on a perpetual strain. I shall “couper mon bâton” and pen; when it is done,his artem cestumque repono.Asi va el mundo.I am lamenting over the silent and rapid flight, and thedesengañoof all things. It is lucky that there is noSan Yustein this Protestant land, or (as one, nowen la gloria esta, used to say) I might be tempted to turn hermit and count my beads. What a charming place after all Sⁿ Yuste was! and what capital trout fishing!

Heavitree,Dec. 28th, 1843.

We are all here, pursuing the same uniform vegetable existence for which Devonians are renowned, and none the worse for the routine. It has been somewhat varied by my bringing outtwoDaughters, which, in point of satin slips, ball flounces, and trimmed nightcaps, is nearly equivalent to a marriage trousseau. The bills, combined with those of Eton, have reduced myIrish5 per cents. to almost an unknown quantity. Such is the perverse tendency of expenditure to advance in a more rapid ratio than increase of income. Ireland just now seems quiet; so is Vesuvius. IfDan carries the day, I shall be shot up, or rather be shot down, light as thescoriæby which Pompeii was covered over; but I have no fears whatever.

Handbookis about to be printed. All these civil wars in Spain are not very attractive to the wayfaring man, who purchases in Albemarle Street; but I dare swear that ere April the goodly tomes—now two—will decorate Murray’s shop. The task has indeed been severe, yet a serious pleasure, a great occupation,—somewhat indeed too much, as the mind ought not to be kept on a perpetual strain. I shall “couper mon bâton” and pen; when it is done,his artem cestumque repono.

Asi va el mundo.I am lamenting over the silent and rapid flight, and thedesengañoof all things. It is lucky that there is noSan Yustein this Protestant land, or (as one, nowen la gloria esta, used to say) I might be tempted to turn hermit and count my beads. What a charming place after all Sⁿ Yuste was! and what capital trout fishing!

Oulton Hall,Lowestoft,26 Jan. /44.Handbookgoes forthwith to press.I am here on a visit toEl Gitano; two “rum coves,” in a queer country. This is a regular Patmos, anultima Thule; placed in an angle of the most unvisited, out-of-the-way portion of England.His house hangs over a lonely lake covered with wild fowl, and is girt with dark firs, through which the wind sighs sadly; however, we defy the elements, and chat overlas cosas de España, and he tells me portions of his life, more strange even than his book. We scamper by day over the country in a sort of gig, which reminds me of Mr. Weare on his trip with Mr. Thurtell (Borrow’s old preceptor); “Sidi Habismilk” is in the stable, and a Zamarra [sheepskin coat] now before me, writing as I am in a sort of summer-house calledLa Mezquita, in whichEl Gitanoconcocts his lucubrations, andpaintshis pictures, for his object is to colour up and poetise his adventures.

Oulton Hall,Lowestoft,26 Jan. /44.

Handbookgoes forthwith to press.

I am here on a visit toEl Gitano; two “rum coves,” in a queer country. This is a regular Patmos, anultima Thule; placed in an angle of the most unvisited, out-of-the-way portion of England.His house hangs over a lonely lake covered with wild fowl, and is girt with dark firs, through which the wind sighs sadly; however, we defy the elements, and chat overlas cosas de España, and he tells me portions of his life, more strange even than his book. We scamper by day over the country in a sort of gig, which reminds me of Mr. Weare on his trip with Mr. Thurtell (Borrow’s old preceptor); “Sidi Habismilk” is in the stable, and a Zamarra [sheepskin coat] now before me, writing as I am in a sort of summer-house calledLa Mezquita, in whichEl Gitanoconcocts his lucubrations, andpaintshis pictures, for his object is to colour up and poetise his adventures.

Writing to Ford from Oulton Hall, February 9th, 1844, Borrow says:

Almost as soon as I got back from Norwich the weather became very disagreeable, a strange jumble of frost, fog, and wet. I am glad that during your stay here it has been a little more favourable. I still keep up, but not exactly the thing. You can’t think how I miss you and our chats by the fireside. The wine, now I am alone, has lost its flavour, and the cigars make me ill. I am very frequently in my valley of the shadows, and had I not my summer jaunt to look forward to, I am afraid it would beall up with your friend andBatushka[little father]. I still go on with myLife, but slowly and lazily. What I write, however, isgood. I feel it is good, strange and wild as it is.

Ford’s correspondence with Addington is resumed.

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