French, Cockney, Dutch in Borrow

Trevor @ Tuesday August 30th 2005 21:10

Glad to see the French are bemoaning the death of Cockney. There’s a lovely bit in George Borrow’s Romany Rye where he has moved into an inn in which

there was a barber and hair-dresser, who had been at Paris, and talked French with a cockney accent; the French sounding all the better, as no accent is so melodious as the cockney.

Cockney may be dying, but the triumph of nouvelle Cockney, Mockney, over French can be seen in the superstar status accorded to Brit telly chef, Jamie Oliver–at least until he suffered the typically British fate of being driven out of his Hampstead bolthole by pub drunks shouting “Oi, Jamie, rig us up a bacon sarnie” through his letterbox at kicking-out time (sez the DG).

Other items in Borrow that I found interesting include, in Lavengro, the use of “High Dutch” (probably a Norfolkism from the Dutch Hoogduits, in opposition to Nederduits (in which language Vondel asked his compatriots to write)) to mean “German” and the appearance of a trekschuit, a classic Dutch horse-drawn public service boat:

On the second day we reached a marshy and fenny country, which, owing to immense quantities of rain which had lately fallen, was completely submerged. At a large town we got on board a kind of passage-boat, crowded with people; it had neither sails nor oars, and those were not the days of steam-vessels; it was a treck-schuyt, and was drawn by horses. Young as I was, there was much connected with this journey which highly surprised me, and which brought to my remembrance particular scenes described in the book which I now generally carried in my bosom. The country was, as I have already said, submerged — entirely drowned — no land was visible; the trees were growing bolt upright in the flood, whilst farmhouses and cottages were standing insulated; the horses which drew us were up to the knees in water, and, on coming to blind pools and ‘greedy depths,’ were not unfrequently swimming, in which case, the boys or urchins who mounted them sometimes stood, sometimes knelt, upon the saddle and pillions. No accident, however, occurred either to the quadrupeds or bipeds, who appeared respectively to be quite au fait in their business, and extricated themselves with the greatest ease from places in which Pharaoh and all his host would have gone to the bottom.

Other quotes will follow–I haven’t read this stuff since I was a kid, and I am, of course, wiser as well as older now. This evening I’m convinced that Borrow is a chronologically aleatoric bragging champion situated somewhere between Thomas de Quincey and James George Frazer, but that judgement may change.

RSS: post comments, blog comments, blog posts

You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

Share this post
  • Digg
  • del.icio.us
  • Facebook
  • Google Bookmarks
  • LinkedIn
  • Live
  • Ma.gnolia
  • Meneame
  • MySpace
  • Reddit
  • StumbleUpon
  • Technorati
Book recommendation

If you enjoyed this post, then you might also enjoy Romany Rye or other books by George Borrow. More book ideas here.

Writing and translation

Check out the services I provide over at Oreneta.com

Google Reader

I share other stuff over here.

Pordiosería

If you're feeling generous, check out my Amazon wishlists for Deutschland, France , and the UK, or use PayPal to

My 5% bookstore - new stuff



Spanish history

Modern Spanish fiction

Spanish classics

On this day

Barcelona

  • March 18 1376 

    Tempestad marina en las costas de Barcelona, donde se hunde un barco procedente de Génova y fallecen 60 personas.

Josep Pla, Palafrugell (1918-9)

  • 18 de març de 1918 Aquest matí, al safareig del jardí, he vist la primera oreneta de l’any. L’ocell era al cantell de pedra del dipòsit, molt a la vora de l’aigua, i tractava, amb grans dificultats, de beure’n una gota. A la tarda, en passar per davant de l’església, les orenetes xisclaven volant, descrivint circumferències molt amples, al voltant del [...]
  • 18 de març de 1919 Nit. Em quedo sol a la cambra de la dispesa. Vigília del meu sant. Recordo que molts anys enrera, a Palafrugell, en tal nit com aquesta, passaven colles d’homes per les cases que cantaven els goigs. «Sed, José, nuestro abogado – en esta vida mortal» –deien. Perfectament. Hom els donava mitja dotzena d’ous i se’ls havia [...]

Catholic hagiography

Back to top