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Updated: June 13, 2025
After some negotiation, I was paid £20 on the spot, and departed with a light heart. Reader, amidst life's difficulties, should you ever be tempted to despair, call to mind these experiences of Lavengro. There are few positions, however difficult, from which dogged resolution and perseverance will not liberate you. I had long determined to leave London, as my health had become much impaired.
Lilly's Latin Grammar was universally used, and was learned by rote, as by George Borrow, in the last century. See Lavengro for details. Conversation books, Sententiae Pueriles, were in use; with easy books, such as Corderius's Colloquia, and so on, for boys were taught to SPEAK Latin, the common language of the educated in Europe.
Had Lavengro, instead of being the work of an independent mind, been written in order to further any of the thousand and one cants, and species of nonsense prevalent in England, the author would have heard much less about its not being true, both from public detractors and private censurers.
"They have certainly very singular names, Jasper." "Names! Lavengro! However, brother, if you had been as fond of things as of names, you would never have been a pal of ours." "What do you mean, Jasper?" "A'n't they rum animals?" "They have tongues of their own, Jasper." "Did you ever feel their teeth and nails, brother?" "Never, Jasper, save Mrs. Herne's.
For some reason, difficult to explain, Borrow had omitted from this Vocabulary a number of the gypsy words that appeared in Lavengro and The Romany Rye. After praising the Gypsy songs as the best portion of the book, Groome proceeds: "Of his prose I cannot say so much.
Lavengro is a philological book, a poem if you choose to call it so.
Lavengro had ended by the postilion concluding his story with "Young gentleman, I will now take a spell on your blanket young lady, good-night," and presumably the three, Borrow, Isopel Berners and their guest had lain down to sleep, and a great quiet fell upon the dingle, and the moon and the stars shone down upon it, and the red glow from the charcoal in the brazier paled and died away.
Lowest and worst of all is the shapeless and bodiless fear, which is a real disease of brain and nerves. I know no more poignant description of this than in the strange book Lavengro: "'What ails you, my child, said a mother to her son, as he lay on a couch under the influence of the dreadful one; 'what ails you? you seem afraid! "Boy. And so I am; a dreadful fear is upon me. "Mother.
Sometimes he modified a showy phrase, and "when I became ambitious of the title of Lavengro and strove to deserve it" was cut down to "when I became a student."
"Are you really in existence?" wrote one correspondent who was unknown to Borrow, "for I also have occasionally doubted whether things exist, as you describe your own feelings in former days." "I was reminded of you the other day by an enquiry after Lavengro and its author, made by the Right Honourable John Wilson Croker.
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